Evil has finally manifested at the Devil’s Tavern. Each pair feels the pull toward the dark place and must heed its call.
Emera and Keenan arrive from The Denizen. Nathan and Josephine stop prowling the night and heed the call. Bruno and his mate Serena rumble to the tavern to fight the evil. The last to arrive are Valerie and James. Together, they must overcome their differences.
While they try to work as one, the evil entices them. All succumb to the darkness but in the end, the light will always prevail.
At that moment, the door frame jingled. They both glanced over and saw Van stumble in. Emera assumed the female persona of her angelic handler would come back, but instead he was just a man. He was dressed in what used to be a white suit. Now it was torn and stained. The pants were shredded. His left eye was blackened and swollen shut. Three long scratches marred his cheek, and large gashes adorned his arms and went across his chest. Large fingerprint bruises decorated his neck. His lips were cracked and bleeding. She’d never seen an angel in this state before. Normally angels healed almost instantly when they were attacked. She and Keenan exchanged concerned looks and led the angel over to a chair.
“What happened?” Emera asked.
Keenan handed Van a glass of water, which the angel gratefully took and swallowed. “I was ambushed.”
Emera snapped her fingers. A cloth and a bowl of water appeared. She began dabbing at his wounds with the damp cloth. What in the world could have done this to him? How could he have been overpowered? He’s an angel. Even the lowest angel is able to banish a demon, no matter how powerful it is. It might not last long, but it allows the angel to get away. Unless the angel agrees to be in the presence of the demon. What is going on? “By what, a hellhound?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not nothing. What happened to you?” Keenan inquired. Emera saw a flash of worry cross her lover’s face. Van tried to get up, but was unable to. Angels weren’t this vulnerable. It took a lot to hurt them this bad. “We don’t have time to question what’s wrong with me. We have to go.”
“Go where? You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” Emera argued.
Vangelis reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila card with red script on it. Emera grabbed it. It was identical to the ones she had been getting in the mail when Sebastian was still alive. Her gaze skimmed the address written on the invitation:
369 Two Forks Rd., Tumbleweed, NV