“No!” Estelle cried out from the doorway. She hurled a barrage of fire balls at Pirro, and he burst into flames as his body was propelled across the room.

Estelle was consumed with fury, that spiteful expression that Lucien hadn’t seen for so long etched onto her face. Magic radiated from her, and she turned her attention to the rest of the room. Noticing they had now split into two groups, she laid their enemies to waste with her power.

Gabe reached Shadow’s side, pulling her back from the window as Jiri’s glowing figure filled the view.

Jiri was airborne now, wings fully open, completely in possession of Belial’s power. Gabe could see Belial in him, could feel him even, just as he had when Gabe had carried his token in the Cathar castle. Jiri’s blades danced with angelic fire as he hung there, glaring viciously at Gabe.

“It’s too late,” Gabe said, drawing Shadow close. He had imagined a future for them, especially as she had returned from the Otherworld at Yule, choosing him over her other life. Now it all seemed futile.

Jiri would win.

“It’s never too late, my love,” Shadow said, breaking free of his grip. In a split second, her bow was armed with a bomb, and she fired directly at Jiri.

It hit his chest, and the explosion sent him cartwheeling over the grounds. He roared with fury, recovering quickly, and he flew with unbelievable speed towards them. Shadow fired again, and again, and again, driving Jiri back.

“It won’t last,” Gabe said. “It can’t. He’ll keep coming.”

“Then at least I’ll buy us time!”

Jiri was laughing manically through his fury, caught by some bombs, dodging others with lightning reflexes, until Gabe realised his glow was fading.

Jiri knew something was wrong, too. He twisted and turned, looking skyward as if for assistance, and then he stared at Gabe, arms outstretched as he held his two swords. “What have you done?”

Gabe felt the faint stirrings of hope as Belial’s power faded. “We have friends. I think they’ve found success in your ultimate demise.”

Jiri hung there, just a Nephilim, deciding whether to fight or flee, when Shadow made his decision for him. She released another arrow loaded with a bomb, too swiftly for Jiri to avoid. It hit him dead on, and Gabe averted his gaze as Jiri exploded. Shadow, however, didn’t move. She watched, drenched in his blood and flesh.

Finally, she looked at Gabe. “It’s done.”

Thirty-One

“So,” Niel said, rising up on his elbow to stare down at Mouse—a very naked Mouse, who was covered with the finest Egyptian linen bed sheet, “Belial is defeated, and I have a long train journey to look forward to. Would you like to come with me?”

“Well,” she traced a finger down his bare chest, “you could catch a flight now. The horn has no influence.”

Niel had texted his brothers to tell them of his success as soon as they arrived at the hotel room, and later had found out that they were fine. After that, he’d put all of them out of his head again. At some point in the night, and he couldn’t honestly say when, Belial’s power had vanished. By then, however, he was having far too much fun with Mouse to give it much thought. He had found out her real name was Anouk, and it suited her perfectly. It was Hebrew, and meant grace and favour.

“A train journey with you,” he told her, “in a small room dominated by a bed, sounds much more fun. I have decided that I want to take my time returning home. I might even spend a few days in Istanbul first. It’s unlikely they’ll spot the theft for a while, or know we’re associated with it.”

“Those rooms are rarely used. They might not even notice the opening into the cistern for months.”

“Good.” He glanced across the room at the gilded horn. “When I get home, that’s going on my wall.”

“A trophy?”

“Yes. And a symbol of freedom.”

Her fingers skimmed over his abdomen, stirring his desire again. “I admit, a train journey across Europe with you has its attractions. I’m not sure if I want to go to London, though.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I live in France. Provence, actually. I want to go home.”

He caught her finger in his hand and pulled it to his lips to nibble it. “But you travel the world. Don’t you fancy a trip?”

“You don’t live in London. You live in Cornwall. You’ll go home.”

“Not forever. I like to travel, and we make a good team.”

Her deliciously full lips curled into a smile. “We’ve crossed paths three times. I hardly think that’s enough evidence.”

“Yes, but this time surely proves it.” He ran his finger down her breastbone to her navel and beyond, pleased to see a flush to her cheeks and hear her breath catch. “We work together very well.”

“Are you suggesting some kind of partnership, beyond the physical?”

“Yes.” His brothers had their own lives, and while he had no intention of leaving Cornwall for good yet, he needed to explore his options.

Anouk smiled again and pulled him close, and he rolled over her, pinning her beneath him, as she said, “I am open to negotiations. A train journey would be the perfect place.”

“Excellent.”

Barak prepared coffee in the rented villa on Elba, listening to the chatter of the women they had rescued in the other room. His wound ached, but was healing, thanks to his father’s power. He had refused Estelle’s help, wanting her to focus her time and skills on the women.

Estelle was still seething with anger, but her vengeance the previous night had assuaged much of it. However, once they were alone, in bed, after the women had been tended to, he held her as she cried. Huge, wracking sobs that encompassed her own experiences as well as the women’s. He wished he could do more, but instead he just held her close. She had said only one thing before she slept, and that was, “I want to do more for women like this. Will you help me?”

He’d kissed her head. “I will do anything you want me to.”

She had cupped his face with fierce intensity. “Thank you.”

He shook the memory off, knowing they would discuss it further, and carried the tray containing the coffee and mugs out to the terrace and placed it on the table. Chiara and the others they rescued had already finished their breakfast and coffee. It was a cold but sunny morning, and the team were all keen for fresh air. The view across the hills was spectacular, especially with the sea sparkling in the distance. Spring was creeping closer. It was certainly warmer there than it would be in Cornwall; nevertheless, Barak was eager to be home. He needed time to decompress, to breathe again without fear of Black Cronos or Belial. He had no doubt that they would encounter other problems eventually, but for now, he would enjoy the peace.

Lucien, Ash, Estelle, Shadow, and Gabe were on the terrace too, debating their next course of action, especially how best to help the women, and Ozan had arrived to argue his point. He looked like a different man this morning. He stood taller, his expression hopeful, although right now, he was desperate to get Estelle’s approval. It seemed Oz, as he liked to be called, and his companions wanted to help the kidnapped women, to atone for the others’ treatment of them. Estelle was reluctant to let them near the women. Barak understood that. Their priority was to get the girls home. After that, they could go home, too.

“I see your point, Estelle, I really do,” Oz said, leaning forward in his chair, “but we need to help them. We could do nothing at the time, and I hated it.”

“You could have tried.”

“It would have got us killed.”

“Exactly. You favoured your own life over theirs.”

Barak felt sorry for Oz, but equally he saw Estelle’s point.

Oz wasn’t done. “We took them extra food, and we gave them toiletries and medications.”

“You mean to help with the wounds your brothers gave them.”

“Do not call them my brothers. They were not.”