“With no prophecy to help you pathetic losers along with this,” Revenant chimed in, “you’re kind of screwed.”

“That’s so helpful,” Limos muttered.

Reseph turned to Reaver. “What about Wormwood?”

Everyone got quiet… except Jillian. “What’s Wormwood?”

“It’s the only weapon that can kill Pestilence,” Reaver said.

“But… won’t that kill Reseph, too?” Jillian plastered herself to Reseph’s side. “No. You can’t do that.”

Turning, Reseph drove his fingers into Jillian’s hair on either side of her head and drew her close enough that their foreheads almost touched. The intimacy left Reaver touched with an odd sense of longing. Why, he wasn’t sure. He’d long ago decided bachelorhood was the best fit for him.

Then again, so had Reseph. “It might be the only way,” Reseph murmured to Jillian. “I can’t live as Pestilence again.”

“But you’ll die.”

“Pestilence will die. I’m just collateral damage.”

Kynan closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they drilled into Reaver. “You sure about this?”

“I am.” Reaver looked over at Reseph. “My son is stronger than he thinks. I’ve always known that. And I suspect his brothers and sister know that, too.”

Taking his time and with the greatest of care, Kynan handed the necklace to Jillian. Reaver didn’t miss the way Revenant’s eyes glittered. No doubt the evil bastard would give his very soul to gain possession of such a powerful object.

“This is a real piece of Heaven, huh?” Jillian’s voice was barely a whisper. She turned to Reseph. “You can do this. It’s up to you now. You’ll save us. I know you will.”

He swallowed. “No pressure, right?”

“No pressure,” Jillian answered.

Reseph tugged her hard against him and kissed her. Out of respect, Reaver turned away, giving them a moment of privacy.

When Reaver had first taken the job of Watcher, Harvester had told him about Reseph’s past. Given the flighty playboy Horseman’s history, Reaver hadn’t expected to see him ever fall for any one person. But clearly, he’d found his match in Jillian. They’d healed each other.

Hopefully, Jillian would be enough of an anchor for him to fight his evil half.

He turned back to the couple as they pulled apart. Reseph ducked his head, and Jillian slipped the necklace over it.

And then all hell broke loose.

Forty-two

Reseph f**king exploded out of his armor. As if a nuclear bomb had gone off on the surface of his skin, his armor blasted off his body, blowing through the living room like shrapnel.

Fucking. Awesome.

Completely na**d, his skin glowing, Reseph looked through Pestilence’s eyes on his family, some of whom had taken damage. Ares was wrenching a shard of metal out of his thigh. Thanatos was bleeding from a gash in his cheek. Limos and Arik were untouched, as was Kynan.

Jillian!

Reseph spun to where she’d been standing, ignoring Pestilence’s cackling laughter. Blood splattered the floor, but Jillian was okay. Reaver must have shoved her behind him. The angel, on the other hand, was clutching his belly, from which a dinner plate–sized piece of metal jutted.

Funny.

Reseph wanted to help. Wanted to say he was sorry. But Pestilence had taken away his voice. He felt like a spectator as his own hand reached out in a come to Papa gesture, and suddenly, all of his armor ripped free of the walls, the furniture, from bodies, and snapped back into place.

We are so strong, Pestilence shouted. We can rule the heavens now!

First things first, Reseph reminded him. We need to destroy Lucifer.

The power-hungry demon purred his approval. And with the two amulets and Lucifer’s blood, we can break the barrier between Heaven and Sheoul.

The container that had housed Pestilence was wide open and empty. Reseph knew, without a doubt, that when the battle with Lucifer was over, the battle for freedom would begin. One of them would return to the container.

Reluctantly, Reseph let Pestilence take over. Pestilence’s pure evil vibe would give them an advantage, and they needed every extra edge they could get.

But Reseph refused to go too deep, terrified that if he buried himself too heavily under Pestilence, he’d never be able to claw his way back out.

At the living room door, Pestilence, that bastard, halted. Very slowly he turned to Jillian, and Reseph felt Pestilence’s twisted lust heat his groin.

The parking lot incident flashed through Reseph’s head—Jillian’s screams, her terror, Pestilence’s sick anticipation. The things he had planned to do to her after the Soulshredders were done…

“No!” Reseph lurched toward her, but someone shoved him outside the house, and Pestilence took over, laughing his f**king ass off.

They cut a swath through the army of demons, kicking at the ones who didn’t bow deeply enough and beheading the ones who didn’t bow at all.

Lucifer, standing atop the shallow rise at the rear of the army, grinned as they approached. “Back for more? Or are you here to surrender?”

“Neither.” The voice coming from Reseph’s mouth was smoky and harsh, singing with power, and Lucifer’s expression fell.

“Pestilence.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “What trick is this? I feel power around you.”

“Trick?” Pestilence’s and Reseph’s speech and thoughts were in perfect sync, and for the first time, Reseph realized how intertwined they really were. “We’re here to bleed you dry, you prick.”

Lucifer didn’t hesitate. He shed his human skin and morphed into a massive, veiny beast, its wingspan nearing thirty feet, its horns jutting out of its skull like the world’s largest bull. With a lightning-quick wave of his clawed hand, a bolt of lava-hot electricity shot through Reseph’s armor. Pain ripped through him, but it was dull, as if divided between Pestilence and him.

“You silly fuck.” Again, Reseph and Pestilence were in sync. “We have the power of Heaven behind us, as well as the power of hell.” He cocked his head at Lucifer. “You die now.”

Reseph launched at Lucifer, punching through one of the demon’s leathery wings, crushing bones, shredding skin. Lucifer roared in fury, raking his serrated claws across Reseph’s face and flaying open his cheek. He healed almost instantly, which was super cool.

The pendants around his neck vibrated and began to glow bright enough to cast light deep into the forest beyond. Lucifer’s gaze dropped to the stones, and with a hiss, he stumbled backward.

“Heofon.” Lucifer’s voice quivered, and Pestilence nearly came at the fear and envy mingling in Lucifer’s words. “Give it to me.”

“As if.” Reseph snorted. “Do you think we can deal now?”

Pestilence laughed, aware that Reseph was f**king with the demon.

“Heofon for the lives of your families,” Lucifer said.

“I have a better idea.” Pestilence thrust his sword through Lucifer’s abdomen. “Your death for a gate between Heaven and Sheoul.”

No! Reseph screamed, helpless to stop Pestilence. Blood splashed onto the amulets and sudden power sang through Reseph like a tuning fork, the rush of unlimited strength filling his body. It was like a drug… a damned-near orgasmic drug that stroked every one of Reseph’s pleasure centers. Not just stroked them, but sucked them off and swallowed.

Ah… damn… so… good.

Pestilence rose up, taking full control. As if in a fog—a fog of euphoria—Reseph watched his sword hack apart Lucifer. The fallen angel wasn’t going to die from blows alone… hell, nothing Pestilence could do would actually kill Lucifer.

But Pestilence wouldn’t have to.

The very air surrounding them warped, turning everything outside their bubble of normalcy into contorted reflections from funhouse mirrors. A churning wind spun up, swirling around them like a tornado. It shot upward, piercing the sky and stretching toward the heavens. Beneath their feet, the ground fell away, leaving them hovering over a black hole that plunged straight into hell.

The gate. Holy fuck, the gate!

Lucifer screamed as the whirling tornado snatched him, bit by bit, pulling him apart and sucking pieces of his body into the maelstrom. Red streaks discolored the translucent vortex as his blood spun higher and higher.

The last chunk of Lucifer, a section of his skull, disappeared into the wind. It would be only minutes until the gate was fully opened, and hordes from hell could swarm into Heaven.

“Stop!” Reseph clawed at Pestilence, hammered at his mind, but it was like trying to wake from a nightmare. This was a repeat of being helpless as Pestilence committed atrocities for an entire year. He couldn’t go through that again. The difference was that during the year Pestilence had been at the helm Reseph hadn’t been this close to the surface. Reseph also hadn’t believed he had so much to fight for.

Now he did. He had brothers and a sister, in-laws, a nephew, and another niece or nephew on the way. A father. A mate—if Jillian would have him, anyway. He couldn’t lose any of those people.

If he could just… force… Pestilence—

“Reseph!”

Jillian?

In excruciatingly slow motion, Reseph turned around. Jillian stood outside the vortex, her hair blowing wildly, her eyes shot wide with terror. And yet, she stood strong, a warrior facing almost certain death.

Pestilence smiled. “We’re going to kill you, human whore.”

Shut up!

Pestilence didn’t listen. “Your screams will be the theme music for the demon march to Heaven.”

Jillian held out her hand. “Take me then. Finish what you started.”

Jillian, no!

Reseph watched in horror as Pestilence reached out and yanked Jillian into the vortex.

Jillian had thought she was prepared to do this. To face down the thing that terrified her the most in hopes of helping Reseph fight to defeat Pestilence.

But as Pestilence tugged her against him, his cold grin sending shivers down her spine, she knew she was in way over her head.

“Reseph,” she cried, “I know you’re in there.”

“Oh, he’s in here.” Pestilence twined her hair in his fist and yanked her head back, nearly snapping her neck. “And he doesn’t care what I do to you.”

Reaver had warned her that Pestilence would lie to her, try to hurt her any way he could, and clearly, the angel had been right. She hadn’t needed the warning though; she knew Reseph too well.

“Fight, Reseph—”

Pestilence jerked her head viciously to the side, exposing her throat, and then he exposed her chest when he tore open her shirt.

“We’re going to have some fun, Jillian.”

“Reseph!”

A godawful roar erupted from Pestilence, and the evil glow in his eyes dimmed. Reseph. It was Reseph!

“Baby,” he croaked. “Get out… get… out.” He shoved her, but she hooked her leg around his and clung to his arm with all her strength. Awkwardly, she reached up and swept her fingers over his armor scar the way Limos had told her to do.

In less time than it took for Sam to stomp his big foot, Reseph’s armor disappeared, and he looked down, confused. He seemed to be a mix of Reseph and Pestilence now, as if they were sharing equal power. She took advantage, snatching Wormwood from the waistband of her jeans and bringing it up to Reseph’s chest.

She’d sworn to Reseph’s siblings that she’d destroy Pestilence if she had to, but dammit, she knew it wouldn’t come to that. She had faith that Reseph would beat that bastard himself.

“Bitch!” Pestilence hissed. Bitterly cold breath stung her cheeks as he leaned in. “I’m going to flay you—” His head snapped to the side as if he’d been struck.

Reseph broke through, wrapping his hand around Jillian’s. “Do it,” he croaked. “Please.” Jillian struggled, but she was no match for his strength as he pressed in, and the tip of the blade penetrated his skin.

Reseph’s expression contorted, his eyes alternating between glowing malevolence and the intense cleverness that always glittered in Reseph’s gaze. The internal battle raged, and even though Jillian was plastered to his body, she was somehow in the middle of the struggle, sometimes her grip on the dagger being peeled away, and sometimes being forced tighter.

“Arik’s soul,” Reseph bit out. “Release Arik’s soul and I’ll ditch the dagger.”

Pestilence must have refused. The dagger in her hand sliced forward, plunging deep into Reseph’s flesh.

“No!” She tried to pull Wormwood free, but Reseph was holding it steady. Sweat dampened his pale skin, and his teeth were clenched hard.

“Fuck you, Pestilence.” Reseph smiled down at Jillian, although it was really more of a grimace. “Another centimeter in and we’re both done. You know I’ll do it. Release Arik’s soul now.”

Reseph’s body went slack, but only for a heartbeat. In another heartbeat, she was thrown clear of the vortex, landing hard on the sheet of ice that had formed in a thirty-yard circle around them. The demon army had long since disappeared, sucked away when the freaky tornado had taken form. Instead, Thanatos, Limos, Ares, Arik, Kynan, Tracker, and the two Watchers were standing nearby.

They ran toward her, but her focus was on Reseph, who was still inside the cyclone. Something seemed to be wrong, though… or maybe right?

He was twisting in what looked like agony, grabbing his head and tearing at his hair. He yanked Wormwood out of his chest with a bellow of victory, and then the dagger was spinning up into the sky. Shrill screeches, like a million crows cawing, erupted from deep below the ground.