Odious Class demons specialized in Wrath—hatred, rage, anger. An insufferable need to destroy the lives of others. A consuming desire for vengeance that passed all semblance of righteous justice.
“So Leonidas was right,” Lucian said, watching Erelah and the now demon-free man support each other as they rose up from the ground. “The hatred that’s been fomenting in Seattle—the troubles between the shifters and humans—is feeding the energy of these demons, bringing them out of their slumbering DNA.”
“It’s definitely possible,” Leksander said, the tension in his shoulders stepping down as a glowing Erelah moved away from the man and bid him to leave with a gracious sweep of her delicately beautiful arms. “Odious Class demons are especially susceptible to swelling up out of the dark corners of humanity, assuming they’re latent in their genetic code somewhere. Leftovers from the time they were more numerous. And hatred is the most easily communicable of the seven sins—it could easily spread wide enough to bring them out.”
His brother was certainly right about that. And the look on his face, directed at the man standing next to Erelah, wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming. The man’s erection hadn’t abated, and he wasn’t making any moves to leave. He had better go soon, or Leksander might light a fire under his feet.
“Are we simply seeing remnants of the troubles now?” Lucian asked, again trying to distract his brother. “Because those are behind us. Or at least, so I thought.”
The man finally ambled off after much urging from Erelah, her face shining with happiness at the man’s renewed lease on life. Lucian had never met a True Angel, only hybrids like Erelah—the pure Angels and Devils kept their distance from both the mortal and immortal worlds. But he couldn’t help wondering if they were all as clueless as their children about their powerful, attractive pull. It was as though Erelah couldn’t see the lust in the man’s eyes… or his pants. She was like a child, unaware in many ways.
Leksander’s growl for the man’s retreating back was contained deep in his chest, but Lucian still heard it. His brother finally turned to him. “Yes, the active hunt for shifters has seemingly ceased, at least in Seattle. But the anger and the loathing run deep in humans. It may be tempered, but I doubt it has disappeared.”
Lucian cocked his head as Erelah approached. Leksander quickly turned to face her. He was so reactive around her, so obvious. Why couldn’t she see that and put his brother out of his misery? At least grant him an acknowledgment of his obvious desire for her, even if she chose to keep chaste. Or at least, chaste from him.
Lucian managed to keep his sigh inside. “Did you sense anything about the demon’s origins before you smote him with your heavenly sword?” he asked her, barely restraining his sarcasm.
“Oh, Lucian,” she said, her smile still bright from her twin ecstasies. “You should know I couldn’t keep from helping that poor man! His demon side was nothing but a torment. Endlessly. You should have seen the stories I glimpsed in his mind as he claimed his fully human self. So many terrible things he couldn’t help from doing, driven by that odious daemonus.”
“Yes, I’m sure he would have been a prince otherwise.” Lucian loved humanity, but not with the blind intensity of an angel. And he was certain that the female half was far superior to the males, in any event.
She scowled at him, but lightly. Then she laid a delicate-fingered hand on Leksander, and his brother’s reaction would have been clear to anyone with eyes to see. “Tell your brother, Leksander. Humans are but angels in disguise.”
“Some of them.” Leksander gave him a pained look.
Lucian held in his laugh. “All right, slayer,” he said to her. “But let’s have an understanding, shall we? If you find one that’s demon-infected, can you stay your blade for a moment or three? It’s important to stop this resurgence or whatever it is. I suspect it is more than a fomenting of odious spirits.”
Some of the gleeful haze in Erelah’s eyes faded. “You suspect the fae are involved. Leksander told me. I regret I didn’t have time to sense the demon’s origins to help further that cause.” The angels’ natural enemy—the fae, conjurers and keepers of the demonic forces, at least in the Winter Court—tended to bring out the warrior side of any angel.
“We’ll find it in time. If you can work with me and restrain yourself, that is.” Lucian was being as polite as he could manage while still being direct. Nuance tended to be lost on angelings, just like the angels that spawned them.