CHAPTER FIVE

Driving through the chain-link fence of his compound Sunday evening, Viper noticed a number of his brothers gathered in a circle. He parked his bike among the others outside the clubhouse and then switched off the engine. Tugging off his safety helmet, he frowned. Voices were yelling—voices that came from within the circle of people.

Having set both his gloves and helmet on the bike, he dismounted it. He didn't actually need protective gear. None of them did. It would take more than a traffic accident to severely injure them. But blending with humans often meant following their rules so as not to attract the attention of their law enforcement.

As he strode toward the gathering of people, he noticed that Jester stood off to the side. "What's going on?" Viper asked him.

"So—and don't ask me how, because I don't get it—Hustle managed to convince Rivet to stake his bike during a game of poker," Jester explained. "A game he then lost. Rivet, naturally, doesn't wanna part with his pride and joy. Hustle doesn't see how that's his problem."

Viper sighed. Honestly, his brothers had been easier to manage when part of the holy host. Since they'd fallen, they'd become more mercurial—a result of not only their inner entities twisting but the lessening of action, combat, and adrenaline since retiring from their old positions. Half the time, he'd swear they started shit with each other out of boredom.

Viper waded in, shrugging his way through the crowd. "All right, enough."

The yelling stopped, and the two glowering angels took a step back from each other.

His club was made up of two breeds of angel. Both kinds were powerful, though one was slightly more dangerous than the other. Unlike angels who sported wings or halos, the two breeds here didn't boast typical physical traits that made them identifiable. A fortunate thing, since not one of their kind would be welcome by the demon population.

Rivet pointed at Hustle. " He needs an ass-kicking."

"Because he won at poker?" asked Viper.

"No, because he cheated ."

"I resent that," Hustle piped up.

He shouldn't, since he probably had cheated.

"Resent it all the fuck you like," Rivet sniped. "I'm not handing over my bike to you or anyone else. I would have won if you'd played fair."

In the crowd, Prophet sighed. "When does he ever play fair?"

"He said he would this time," Rivet claimed.

Jester frowned. "You didn't suspect he was lying, considering he's a person you can always rely on to bullshit and swindle people? Seriously?"

Rivet ground his teeth. "I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt."

"Then you're stupid," Jester bluntly told him.

A psyche right then bumped Viper's, a sense of urgency coming from it. Then Dice's voice flitted through his mind … I found some strix .

Viper stilled. Where? He wasn't surprised that Dice had located them within a day—he was an expert tracker.

A bunch of them are hovering and sniffing around a camping spot. Seems like they're trying to track the humans who recently used it. He paused. One human left behind a sock. A real small one, V.

Viper silently swore. Strix always preferred the blood of children. I need your coordinates.

Dice rattled them off. Be fast.

Viper refocused on his brothers. "All right, listen up. Dice has tracked the strix. We need to act quickly, because they seem to be hunting a party of campers that includes at least one kid." He gave out Dice's coordinates and then teleported straight there, finding himself stood within a tight cluster of trees. His brothers appeared behind him in a mere millisecond.

They could all teleport—or shimmer, as they sometimes called it—with complete ease. All celestials could, fallen or not.

Dice nodded their way. "They're still sniffing around the camp."

Celestial-vision not hampered by low lighting, Viper locked his gaze on the pale, long-limbed figures that were prowling around a patch of uneven ground that was ringed by trees and shrubs. One of them held the sock that Dice had mentioned. Yeah, it definitely belonged to a child.

They appeared to be debating something, two pointing long-nailed fingers in separate directions; possibly arguing over which way they believed the campers had headed.

"There's only a dozen of them, and none are females. This can't possibly be the entire colony." Which was a shame, because eradicating them all in one go would have been easiest.

He drew in a breath through his nose, taking in the scents of grass, dew, and pine needles. There were no sounds of nature—no owls hooting, no coyotes howling, no mosquitos buzzing. As if every living thing had fled on sensing the strix. All that could be heard was the rustle of leaves and the crunch of gravel beneath the strix's feet.

Viper shed his jacket, and the others followed suit. The fight would get ugly, and none wanted their jackets being ruined.

"We move now," said Viper. "Circle them. None can leave here alive."

"Do we have to kill them fast, or can we play?" asked Darko.

Viper felt his lips tip up, his entity all for the latter. "We can play."

Darko grinned, as did several others.

They teleported straight to the camp, forming a circle around it … placing the strix in the center.

Startled, the demons tensed, their blood-red eyes skimming over the Black Saints. Hissing, they shifted nervously, though a hunger for violence seeped into their gazes.

Inside Viper, his entity smiled in sadistic delight. "I've been looking forward to this." He let out an archangelic blast of warped holy fire. The ultraviolet wave shimmered through the air, lethal as the sharpest of blades. It rammed into three strix, severing their bodies in half—halves that then crumbled to ashes.

The other strix hissed again, baring canine fangs. Then, like a switch had been flicked, chaos ensued.

A strix leaped in the air as if it had bounced off a damn trampoline. It came right at Viper, striking out with a black whip of fire that smelled of sulphur and brimstone.

He lurched to the side, but the whip lashed his arm and shoulder. The scorching-hot lash hurt like a motherfucker. It corroded his skin, ate through his tee, and infuriated his entity.

Adrenaline pumping through his system fast, Viper lobbed an ultraviolet orb at the demon's chest, sending it careening into the picnic bench behind it. The wooden table gave beneath the strix's weight, collapsing into a pile. An agonized cry burst out of the strix as he stared down at his wound.

Just as the fall from heaven had twisted Viper's inner entity, it had also twisted his ability to conjure holy fire. The latter left clean burns that hurt like nothing else. But the flaming orbs Viper and his brothers now wielded? They blackened flesh, burned like hell, and carried the astringent scent of acid.

The strix in Viper's sight didn't look up in time to see the second ball he aimed its way—it caught the demon right in the head, killing it instantly.

He jerked back as a hellfire orb whizzed past him and crashed into Sting's chest.

Sting regarded his attacker like he was no more than a child throwing pebbles. "That all you got? How disappointing."

He probably was disappointed, because he actually liked pain.

Confident that Sting could take out the strix easily, Viper zeroed in on another demon—one who was attacking Darko from behind and clawing at his back. He pelted the strix with a shower of unholy orbs that reduced it to ashes. He couldn't lie, the feeling of release that came when he allowed violence to take him was thrillingly addictive.

Viper and his brothers fought how they always fought: Viciously and without pity. Which wasn't to say that they were all kill, kill, kill . As pre-agreed, they had some fun with the strix. They bit them, burned them, broke their bones, drank their blood, blistered their skin. And they enjoyed every fucking minute.

The strix retaliated hard with claws, fangs, hellfire orbs, and whips of black fire. Again and again the demons evaded strikes by shifting into mist or exploding into molecules. They sometimes attacked as oversized bats or owls, and they were gruesome in every form. But they were also outmatched—the power of the Black Saints too raw, their savageness too primal.

"Jesus, he's heavier than he looks," grumbled Merchant.

Viper tracked his brother's voice, his brows lifting at the sight of Merchant and Rivet holding a demon by its wrists and ankles while swinging it from side to side. They sang something about shaking a bed and turning the blanket over before promptly dropping the strix face first onto the fire pit they'd lit with unholy fire.

Leaving them to it, Viper turned. And found a demon almost on him. He growled as it swiped out and dragged its razor-sharp nails across his face, scoring deep.

Fucker. He fisted its sweater, hauled it close, and sank his teeth into its throat. Blood hit his tongue, carrying a charred tang. He wasn't crazy about the taste, but he drank the liquid down, letting it help him heal. His blood clotted, his wounds closed over, his energy—

A large impact blindsided him, breaking his hold on the strix and sending him stumbling to the side so hard he almost lost his footing.

Viper whirled on the new threat and lobbed an orb its way. The demon burst into molecules, evading the orb. Those molecules quickly reformed into an overly large bat that swooped down toward him.

He wacked it with a telekinetic hit. The winged little shit rammed into a tree with such force that wood cracked and bark—

His peripheral vision screamed a warning. The strix he'd fed from was advancing on him fast.

Viper didn't move. He let it crash into him, let it bury its fangs into his neck, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain.

The demon jerked back with a loud screech, and Viper's entity smirked. His once-blessed blood, now so acidic it poisoned any who drank it, immediately went to work on the strix. The demon dropped to its knees as his blood killed it from the inside out.

Viper glanced around, braced for more threats. There were none, to his entity's supreme disappointment. Few strix were left alive, and his brothers were focused on them as a group.

He took that moment to take stock of his brothers. None were fatally injured, but many sported puncture wounds, burns, and rake marks. No fatigue could be seen on their expressions. No, they were as amped up as always when battle came their way.

"Let's end this," he called out … just as an owl dropped down on his fucking head.

Viper grabbed it, slammed it on the ground, and stomped his foot down hard on its body. A screech erupted from the owl. It squirmed, twisted, shifted . And then a strix lay beneath Viper's foot in its standard form.

It coughed up blood, its body sporting burns, bruises, slices, and broken bones. The demon was dying and knew it.

Viper cocked his head as he stared down at it. "If that was supposed to be one last ditch effort to kill me before you die, it was a totally shit one. Did you really think it was wise to come after us? Did you think you could take us out?"

It bared bloodstained teeth. "My brethren will keep trying. They will eventually succeed."

Viper pursed his lips. "Nah, they'll just be slaughtered."

He didn't bother asking for the location of the colony. Strix never gave up their own, not even under heavy interrogation. But there was another way to extract information from it. Few mental shields could keep Viper out.

"Don't do it," Dice said to him, clearly sensing what Viper was considering. "We'll find the colony another way."

Jester nodded. "It ain't worth the pain you'd go through, or the psychic burnout. And you can't afford to be weak when you have celestials and hell-born demons to contend with."

Excruciating pain hit any angel that tried delving into the mind of a demon, and vice versa. It also rendered them weak on a psychic level. Hence why Viper hadn't stayed in Ella's mind long the one time he'd invaded it to confirm his suspicion of who she was to him.

"We'll find the others," Jester went on. "We'll keep chipping at their numbers until what's left of the colony finally launches an attack. Then we'll wipe out the rest."

"No," the strix objected, its red eyes like lasers of hatred. " They will wipe out all of you . My colony—"

"Stands no chance against what we are and what we can do," finished Razor. "You should have just stayed away."

The demon slid Viper a look. "He calls to us."

That wasn't something Viper could control. Neither could they, but they weren't compelled to act on it. "You could have ignored that call. You didn't." He shrugged. "Now you die."