Fallen Angel

Chapter 39.2

The floor lay scattered with arrow shafts. Some broken, some shattered to pieces. None had hit their target. Neither had the mage's spells, his little sword, or the Boleyn whore's dagger. Whatever they tried, they could not touch him. They grew ever more frantic. How Cesare revelled in it.
Seeing his adversaries' faces twist in despair as they realised they couldn't beat him had been worth it. The agony he endured in receiving these powers had been worse than anything the Circles ever put him through. But the pain had been fleeting. This right here, right now, this was the feeling he would hold on to for eternity.
Cesare saw Wyatt prepared to cast another spell. He grinned and flicked his wrist. The mage was hurled backwards. His wife's scream was the most beautiful sound Cesare had ever heard. He laughed triumphantly.

"Give it up! You are no match for me."

Any man would've cowered at the deadly glare Anne Boleyn threw at him. But Cesare wasn't any man. Not anymore. For he was evolved. He was superior. He was... supreme.
The woman kicked up her husband's sword and lunged at him with a furious cry. Cesare smirked and indulged her in her feeble attack by conjuring a sword into his hand. The blades met again and again. They moved as if engaging in a complex dance where they fought for dominance and victory. But neither Cesare nor Boleyn intended to give in that quickly. They attacked and parried and attacked again, looking for that one chance, that one opening that would secure the upper hand.

"ANNE, NOW!"

Before Cesare realised what was happening, his opponent drew away, executing a perfect backward flip in which she kicked him hard in the chin. Cesare cursed loudly and shook his head against the sting. A sharp whistle resonated, and then...

***

Lucifer froze when he saw what had happened to the dungeons beneath the palace. Of all the scenarios he had been playing out in his head, this was one of the worst.

"That little bitch!"

"What is it?" Michael came to stand beside him.

"Lilith created a labyrinth of illusions. Nothing you see here is real, even though your senses perceive it as such. It's the perfect trap. And if Gabriël and the Nephilim separated to cover more ground, they'll never find each other again. She'll have led them to a specific location where they'll be taken captive or killed."

Michael looked closely at the cells and stairs in front of him and asked, "How do we get through?"

"We don't. I need to dismantle the illusions from the outside. But it won't be easy."

Lucifer felt Michael's hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to meet the Archangel's soft gaze.

"You can do this," said Michael. "Do what you have to do. I will keep you safe."

Lucifer stared at him, shook by his confidence. He didn't know what to make of it. He had hurt this man. Tortured him. Exposed his secrets and brought him down to nothing. Yet here he stood, as if none of that mattered. 
Taking the words spoken in encouragement and support to heart, Lucifer inhaled deeply, clearing his mind of everything and raised his hands. He called upon the powers of the Circles and began the incantation. At once, he felt the illusion pull at him. It tried to draw him in, to trap him. But Lucifer kept his ground.

Then he heard it — a threatening snarl. It was the sound of a predator hunting down his prey and closing in for the kill. Lucifer knew it all too well. He dared to look at Michael. By his tense expression, he gathered he'd heard it too. His sword was raised, and his eyes searched the room, attempting to find the still invisible monster that prowled around them.
Another snarl echoed, louder this time. A growl, but on the opposite side. Red eyes. One pair. Two pairs. Three more. Too many for the Archangel to handle on his own.