Valiant spun around, slashing. Magic lapped on the blade, powering his strike. He drew blood from both angels, and they fell back against the wall, clenching their teeth against the pain. Two angels, top of the Legion, as tough as they came, each one barely keeping themselves from screaming out in agony.

“Perhaps it’s working after all. This sword can kill an immortal,” Valiant taunted them. “It’s made me powerful, more powerful than an angel. I am a god. And I will destroy the gods and demons with their own weapons.”

“What happened all those years ago?” I asked him, drawing his attention back to me. I wanted nothing more than to go to Nero, to make sure he was all right, but I had to keep the pilgrim talking. I had to give the angels a chance to heal.

“I can see the pain in your eyes, Valiant,” I said. “And hatred. Why do you hate them so much? You serve the gods.”

“Those who serve the gods suffer most of all. My wife and my sister died in my service of the gods, two pointless deaths in the war of titans, victims of the monsters the gods and demons unleashed on this Earth. We all went out there, drawing the monsters away from the town. Only I came back.”

“You feel guilty that you were the one to survive,” I realized.

“No,” he denied it. “I don’t feel guilty. I’m furious.”

But I could see it in his eyes. He couldn’t stand that he’d survived and those he’d loved had died. I almost felt sorry for him—if not for the fact that he wanted to go out and kill a bunch of people.

“I was powerless to save them,” he said. “But I’m not powerless now. Not now, not ever again. I will tear through the armies of heaven and hell. I will pluck the gods and demons from their thrones. I will defeat the monster and return the Earth to humanity.”

I didn’t think anyone would survive his kind of war. A war built on vengeance was just a self-perpetuating cycle. It would keep going until everyone was dead.

Nero and Damiel came at Valiant from either side, not allowing him to use the sword against both at once. After feeling the mortal bite of the blade, they were more cautious now. They were evading his strikes, but they sword’s magic had made him as strong and fast as an angel. It was only a matter of time before he drew blood again.

A memory crashed against me. An angel cut at her with her own sword.

Valiant cut across Nero’s chest, slicing through the leather. I screamed out.

She looked up, seeing her own death in the angel’s eyes. The sword came down—and then just stopped, frozen. It was fighting him. It was fighting for its true master. It turned around and stabbed him in the chest.

I ran forward, calling out to the sword in Valiant’s hand, a stolen weapon that had never been meant for him. It flew out of his hand.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

I kept moving forward, a flash of adrenaline burying my pain. “They’re not yours.”

The shield sank to the ground. Valiant pulled on it, but it didn’t budge.

“They see the hatred in your heart,” I said.

The armor shifted, constricting. Crushing.

“And they want no part of it.”

Valiant’s hands darted to the armor clasps, trying to open them. The silver metal began to glow.

“What are you doing to me?!” he howled at me, pounding at his chest, desperately trying to get out of the armor.

The sword lifted into the air, then plunged through his neck. The armor split open, and Valiant’s body fell to the floor.

Damiel’s eyes darted from me, to the dead Pilgrim, to the pile of weapons beside him. “Spectacular.” He reached for the weapons.

Nero got to them first. Damiel didn’t try to stop his son as he lifted them off the floor.

“You have a big mess to explain,” Damiel observed.

“Osiris Wardbreaker and Valiant were after the relics. Their forces clashed. Valiant died,” Nero told me.

“And what about the Osiris?”

Nero gave his father a hard look, then said, “The rogue angel died too. The armor’s magic overloaded and killed him after he killed the pilgrim.”

“Perhaps you do understand loyalty to your family after all,” said Damiel.

“Stop talking,” Nero told his father, then tossed me a roll of tape. “Bind him in that tape. It’s strong enough to hold an angel. The more he struggles, the more his magic is drained.”

Damiel watched in silent amusement as I bound his hands.

“The relics of heaven and hell were destroyed,” I told Nero. If the Legion got those weapons, the power would destroy them from the inside, turning angel against angel.

“Agreed,” Nero said, putting them into a bag.

The room chose that room to lurch. Nero caught me before I fell. His mouth hardened when he saw the bullet wound in my stomach. The rest of me probably didn’t look so great either.

He set his hand on my stomach and magic flowed from him to me. “Hold on, Leda.”

Everything went black. I was blind.

“…not healing.”

“It was an immortal weapon.”

“You’re not dying,” Nero told me.

My body felt numb.

“You still have to save Zane. I order you not to die.”

I held onto that thought, drawing myself back into the pain.

“Bossy,” I muttered.

He kissed me with lips wet with his own blood. A drop fell onto my tongue, jolting me awake like a shot of pure caffeine. I opened my eyes, and looked up into his eyes.