The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(63)

Arthur smirked at him over one shoulder. “Must be a goddamned miracle.”

“Nephilim,” Gabriel cried, “do not receive miracles.”

Arthur’s leg slipped from Gabriel’s grasp. In a blink of an eye, he was gone. He’d fallen into the cave that he was not, under any circumstances, supposed to enter. For one wild instant, Gabriel considered plunging in after him.

Then he came to his senses and shook his head. Darn it all to holy heck, he was a messenger, not a warrior. What was he supposed to do? Attack the situation with a round of Hails?

“Stupid loophole. Let Raphael deal with it.”





FIFTEEN


Cybele sat up and immediately wished she hadn’t. Damn. She’d smacked her head so hard she was still seeing stars. Gingerly, she pressed the lump swelling on the back of her skull. She was sitting in a puddle, her jeans rapidly wicking up moisture. Her upper arm stung. She touched the spot, and her fingers came away sticky. Blood. Right. She remembered snagging her arm on a nail or something when Jack dragged her under the fallen beam blocking the old tack room.

And light. She remembered brilliant, golden light.

Whatever that light had been, it was gone now. It was dark, almost totally so. A constant drip, drip, drip fell from above. A splash of water hit her nose. An eerie wail rose and fell like a tide through the darkness.

That had to be the sound Jack had described. But as for it being Merlin’s voice—Cybele had her doubts. It didn’t sound at all life-like.

Still, the place was creepy. She hated suffocating spaces. Reaching out to the right and left, she spread her palms on slick stone. She was in a dark, narrow tunnel. She tried her best to ignore the panic that thought brought.

She levered herself to her feet. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized she wasn’t entirely trapped. A narrow slice of space stretched out before her. What illumination there was seemed to come from above. She tilted her head back. A layer of gauzy light filtered down from overhead. Exactly how far above, it was difficult to judge. And where the hell was Jack, who had gotten her into this mess?

“Jack? Are you here?” She paused for an answer. It came only as an echo of her own voice. She tried again. “Jack! Answer me.”

The effort of shouting made her head spin. The cave seemed to waver. Imagination? Or magic? She craned her neck, focusing on the light.

It vanished, plunging her into total darkness.

An explosion of panic nearly choked her. A sudden downdraft drove her back against the cave wall, palms slapping on the slick stone. Just in time. Something fell from above, landing with a thud in the spot where she’d just been standing. A dark opal light illuminated the darkness.

“Fuck,” a voice said.

She went limp with relief. “Arthur.” She threw herself at him.

“Cybele.” A ball of hellfire ignited above her head. His arms closed around her. He was in demon form. His wings swept forward, sheltering her. “What happened?” he whispered frantically, running a hand over her hair. “I saw blood on the ground...I can smell it now...”

She looked up. Arthur’s expression, delineated by sharp-edged shadows, was frantic. “I’m fine. A nail or something found my arm.”

“Let me see.”

“No.” She eased from his arms. “I don’t need you going into kill mode again.”

“Oh, I’m already in kill mode,” he said darkly. “But it’s not you I want to kill.” He glanced at the light far above. “Goddamned coward didn’t follow me in.”

“Who?”

He told her about his encounter with Gabriel. “So there’s the reason none of my ancestors could find this place,” he finished. “A celestial seal. Goddamn interfering archangels.”

“But...if that’s true, how did we get in?”

“I’m not sure. Someone pulled me through,” he said.

“It had to be Jack. He dragged me in here, but I don’t know where he’s—”

“Here,” a voice said. “But we need...we need to go...”

“Jack!” Cybele spun around. The boy was huddling in a shadowed nook.

“Get over here,” Arthur growled. “And tell us what the hell is—”

“No. Don’t say that.” Though his voice was rusty with disuse, Jack’s speech emerged distinctly. “That’s a bad word. Very bad.”

Cybele paused, frowning. “And you don’t like bad words? All right. Just tell us. Why did you bring us in here? And how?”

“No. No time to tell. You must come. Now.” Jack reached out and grabbed Cybele’s arm.

Arthur let out a growl. “Get your bloody hands off her.” He jerked the boy up by the collar and gave him a sharp shake. “Or I’ll snap your neck.”

Jack’s eyes bugged. A few unintelligible words choked out of his mouth. “Gaaa— Gaaa—”

Cybele easily twisted her wrist free of Jack’s grip, and then turned her scowl on Arthur. “Stop it. You’re scaring him.”

“Good,” he said. “Maybe if he’s scared, he’ll give us some answers.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not going to tell us anything if he’s too terrified to talk.”

Arthur gave the boy a final shake and let him go. Jack stumbled and fell, his arms coming up to cover his head.