One
In any other building in the world, the sight of a hellhound lying on the floor with a baby in its mouth would send people screaming in horror or scrambling for weapons.
In a castle belonging to one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, people didn’t bat an eye.
Reaver ignored the shaggy black beast that bared its teeth at him as he strode across the great room. Hellhounds hated angels, and the feeling was mutual.
“Thanatos,” Reaver called out, “Cujo is slobbering on your son.”
Thanatos poked his blond head out of the library doorway. “That’s why Logan gets a lot of baths.”
The hound, a puppy itself at around two hundred pounds, flopped onto its side and allowed Logan to tug on its fur and ears as the infant climbed on top of the beast. Logan was going to be a soggy, furry mess by the time his mother, Regan, got home.
It had been months since Reaver had been here, and not much had changed. The fire that burned practically year-round was going in the hearth, vampire servants bustled between the cavernous rooms, and the mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread wafted from the kitchen. Regan had added personal touches here and there, replacing some of Thanatos’s ancient weapons and gory paintings on the walls with tapestries and pictures of the local landscape. Throw rugs now covered the hard, cold floors, and baby toys lay scattered like colorful land mines that squeaked in shrill protest when Reaver’s booted feet accidentally stomped on them.
The keep’s massive wooden doors flew open behind Reaver, bringing a chilly blast of late spring Greenlandic wind through the entrance. Ares, Reseph, and Limos came in with the breeze, Ares in shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, Reseph in jeans and nothing else, and Limos in a glaringly orange maternity sundress. When she saw Reaver, she grinned, and despite being five months pregnant, she tackled him in a fierce embrace.
He’d always loved her enthusiasm, even before he learned she was his daughter, and he hugged her close. He just wished he’d been able to give her much-needed hugs when she was a child. Wished he could have been there for her first steps, her first words.
If only he’d known about her. And Ares. And Thanatos. And Reseph.
“ ’Sup, Pops?” Limos pulled away, taking her tropical piña colada scent with her. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in months.”
Time ran differently in Heaven, so it felt like only days to Reaver. And maybe he’d been a little hesitant to visit. For years he’d been the Horsemen’s Heavenly Watcher, but the dynamic of their relationship had changed since he’d discovered they were his offspring. He’d been fired as their Watcher, and more important, he wasn’t sure how to be a father to five-thousand-year-old legends.
Worse, he didn’t know how to be a grandfather. He was over five thousand years old and technically could be a grandfather thousands of times over, but he didn’t feel old enough to be a grandfather even once.
“I’ve been in the Akashic Library trying to find something… anything, that’ll help track down Gethel,” Reaver said, and Thanatos growled at the mention of the Horsemen’s ex-Watcher, an angel who betrayed Heaven and nearly killed Than’s son. “I even searched her home in Heaven, but it’s been ransacked by Enforcers already.”
Enforcers, Heaven’s angel lawkeepers, had made finding the renegade angel a top priority, their zealous pursuit spurred by the fact that the entire underworld was buzzing about her rumored involvement in some sort of plot against Heaven. Intel from the Heavenly spy network indicated a countdown was also involved. But a countdown to what?
“It should not be this difficult.” Frustration lashed Reaver all the way to his wing feathers. He’d been searching for eight months without a single lead. “She isn’t technically a fallen angel, so she can’t hide in Sheoul—” He broke off, wheeling around at the sudden sensation of evil emanating from the doorway.
“My ears are burning.” Tiny flecks of light materialized into a shape. Gethel’s shape.
Instantly, the Horsemen flicked their fingers over the crescent-shaped scars on their throats, activating their armor and their weapons. Snarling, the hellhound leaped to his feet, somehow sweeping Logan beneath his big body as everyone put themselves between the child and Gethel.
“Limos!” Than shouted. “Get Logan out of here.”
Reaver didn’t hesitate. He blasted the angel with nuclear-grade direlight. The blue spear of sizzling light whispered through Gethel’s body and blew up the keep’s massive wooden door. Gethel, unharmed, merely smiled, even when he sent an arc of fire at her head. The flaming column passed through her like an arrow through fog.