Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

After hunting high and low for Amenadiel, we find him hidden deep in the belly of the library back at the academy, of all places. Arms laden with old, spine-creased books, he pauses when he turns and spots us. His eyes flick between us all before settling on Dmitriy. “I guess you got through to them, after all.”

As he breezes past us in a flurry of cologne and whiskey-scented breath, I follow hot on his heel. With a heavy thump, the books land on the nearest table, disturbing a leaflet that goes flying. He clicks his finger, lighting the lanterns on top—three in total.

Before he can sit his ass down on the chair that he pulls out, I growl, “How do we bring her back from the shadows?”

Without even so much as a look in my direction, he sits down, reaches for the book on top, and opens it to the first page. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need to waste hours reading through pointless material written by clueless angels, would I?”

His response tightens my muscles, but I let it slide as my gaze snags on the title of the book on top of the pile. I pick it up and take a seat in the nearest chair.

“What’s it about?” Alaric asks, no doubt intrigued by the sight of me willingly picking up a book.

“Timelines,” I mumble, distracted as I scan the page.

“You’ll find some useful information,” Amenadiel replies, turning another page, “but most of it is nonsense.”

“You’re such a pro, right?” I mutter, and his eyes flick up from the book.

Watching me from across the table as the flames in the lanterns cast a soft glow over his face, he states matter-of-factly, “Some of us are powerful enough to travel through tears in the veil. Others are not.”

“You should write a book.” Alaric takes a seat beside me, the chair scraping on the stone floor. “You know more than most angels here.”

“I don’t know enough,” he says bitterly, and there’s something in his tone that makes me look over at him. I study the way his jaw flexes with frustration and how his dark eyes fly over the page while he tugs at his dark hair with his free hand that’s not drumming out a beat on the desk.

“Why are you so tense?” The accusation in my tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

He drags his eyes up to meet mine. But instead of replying, he snorts dismissively, tosses his book aside, and grabs the next one in the pile. “This is bigger than you young ones can grasp.”

Abandoning my book, I ease back in my seat and cross my arms, biceps bulging against the straining fabric. “Explain it to us.”

Dmitriy is watching our exchange closely, hovering on the outskirts of my periphery. The urge to rip his fucking head off for harboring any kind of feelings toward the little witch begs me to fly out of my seat and attack him. It takes all my willpower not to listen to that voice. Now there’s something else grating at me. I don’t like the bead of perspiration on my uncle’s temple.

“Genesis is back for revenge. She claims God Himself orchestrated all of this in His own perfect timing to seek revenge on the seven angels who turned their back on Him. Her claims go so far as to say that’s why the gates opened for Aurelia.” His eyes flick between us all. “If that’s true, God used Aurelia as a weapon against us. To weaken us.” He looks at me, and a muscle works in his jaw. “The next one in line to fall under her spell is your father. And if your father falls…”

My heart stalls in my chest.

No fucking way.

“This is far-fetched,” Ronan interjects, shattering my thoughts. “Are you saying she’s making us fall for her? Then what?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Amenadiel sits forward to read another page. “I don’t know God’s ultimate plan for revenge. But I do know none of you would ever hurt her, and that makes her dangerous.”

“Hang on,” I say, placing my elbows on the table. “You said the next one in line to fall under her spell is my father…”

Amenadiel turns another page.

“Do you like her, too?”

When he doesn’t reply, a growl rips through my vocal cords. I slam my hands on the table, relieved when he finally cuts his eyes to me. “Answer the fucking question.”

“Don’t piss me off, Daemon. It won’t end well for you.”

I shoot up from my chair, and he follows suit, flaring his wings aggressively. The urge to back down tickles the back of my neck, but fuck if I will. Gritting my jaw, I let him see the hellfire flicker in my eyes. “I won’t hesitate to challenge you for her.”

He stares at me for a beat, then the darkness and raw fury in his gaze give way to amusement. Sitting back down, he grabs another book. “Aurelia is a weakness to us all. That’s why we’re here, preparing to derail God’s plan for revenge.”

Dari slides in beside Amenadiel and grabs a book, too, in a silent plea for a ceasefire. She peers up at me from beneath her dark lashes, and I crumble beneath the blaze that burns deep inside her soul. “Sit down, Daemon.”

Fuck it. I pull my chair back out and take a seat. Ronan follows suit, and Dmitriy soon slides in next to my uncle.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Dari asks, tapping her long nails on the desk. “Or should I ask what you’re searching for?”

Amenadiel barely spares her a glance. “I have tried to reach her in her mind when I step through the veil, but I can’t find her.”

“What do you mean, you can’t find her?”

“Think of the mind like a maze. It’s a vast space.”

“But you’ve found her before.”

“That was different.”

“How so?” I ask, shutting the book in front of me.

Amenadiel tracks my movements. “She wasn’t trapped in the shadows. The darkness has a hold on her now.”

“If she’s trapped, you should still be able to locate her.”

“Not if it’s deliberately keeping her from me.”

When I frown, he continues, “Genesis told me that Aurelia isn’t alone in the shadows.”

“She’s not alone in the shadows?” Alaric looks from Amenadiel to me and back. “Who’s there with her?”

“I don’t know,” he replies. “That’s what we need to figure out.”

Ronan sits forward. “Do you think it’s someone who belongs to the shadows or someone powerful enough to travel through worlds? You stepped through the veil. What’s to stop someone else from doing it too?”

“Like her stalker,” Dari interjects, sitting up straight. “Oh, fuck!”

Amenadiel holds up a hand, falling silent when a group of students walk past the desk. When they’re out of earshot, he says, “Very few can enter through a veil. That would take someone very powerful. It’s more likely to be a subconscious fear.”This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

“What are you talking about now?” I ask skeptically.

“The mind is a place of imagination. While Heaven and Earth are physical, the mind is not.”

Easing back in my seat, I cross my arms, tipping my chin. “Go on.”

“Our world, as well as the human world, follows certain laws of physics. The human world is more restricted than ours, sure, but we are still bound by laws. We can manipulate hellfire with our minds, but we can’t shapeshift. We can’t manipulate Light because we’re not of the light. We are restricted within our magic.” Tapping his temple, he looks at us all in turn. “The mind has no such restrictions. Once you enter through the veil, you better pray the person whose mind you’re inside favors you or, at the very least, isn’t aware of the power at their disposal. You can’t manipulate their magic, but they can manipulate it themselves. Why? Because the mind is magic.”

“What has this to do with subconscious fears?” Alaric asks, bringing us back on topic.

“Aurelia hasn’t learned to harness her own power yet. She’s lost in a dream, and in that dream, her own fears can take on shape.”

“Fuck, that’s heavy,” Alaric grumbles, scratching his stubble.

“The darkness can take on the resemblance of a person, even. We just don’t know what’s happening inside her mind. But we do know that if she learns to harness her own power, like she did when she defeated me by manipulating and weaponizing her own Light to mend the veil, she can defeat what holds her captive from us.”

“That sounds easier said than done,” Dmitriy says, blowing out a tired breath.

“That’s because it is. She’d have to wake up out of her own delusion first.”

“But what about Genesis?” Alaric asks, blinking at the desk.

“How do we kill her?” Ronan looks between us.

Amenadiel turns another page in the book. “That’s what we need to figure out.”

“Let’s just hope we’re wrong about the stalker. That he hasn’t got her trapped somewhere in her mind.” Dmitriy looks at Amenadiel. “We could be wrong, right?”

“Of course.” Amenadiel scoots his chair back and scrubs a hand down his face. “I can enter through the veil, but I can’t locate he—”

Before he can finish that sentence, Dariana butts in, “Daemon can find her.”

Amenadiel freezes, and Dari hurries to add, “He likes to hunt. Trust me, Daemon knows how to hunt. If anyone can hunt her down, it’s him.”

“Only one small problem,” I drawl, standing up. “I can’t enter through the veil.”

“You can with my help,” Amenadiel reluctantly admits. Then, as if he realizes what he’s said, “I’m not powerful enough to get you all across the veil. But I should be able to conjure enough magic to bring Daemon with me.”

“Nothing beats a bit of family bonding,” Ronan quips as he stands up, and I glower at him.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“What happens when we get her back?” Dari asks, tightening her ponytail.

Amenadiel shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Let’s not think that far ahead. We need to find her first. Before Genesis sinks her claws into Lucifer. Daemon and I will enter through the veil to try to locate her. Meanwhile, don’t let Genesis out of your sight. And whatever you do, don’t fall under her spell. She’s dangerous, and she knows how to hunt angels the same way we hunt humans.”

Ronan stifles a laugh, shooting me a brief look that I choose to ignore. “Trust me, we know.”

Grumbling under my breath, I walk past him.

Trust me to get ladened with my uncle, whom I also suspect harbors a crush on the little witch. Her nickname is proving truer by the minute—the way she seems to have cast a spell on us all. If my uncle is correct, and this is all part of her dream somehow, then we’re all at her mercy until she decides she’s done with us. Like dolls with torn limbs.