The Crumpled Sword by Sydney Presley

Author:Sydney Presley [Presley, Sydney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Warwick sat on the sofa in the living room and rested his head back. David settled beside him, their thighs and the tops of their arms touching, and Warwick knew, without a doubt, that David needed the contact.

Emotions seeped through from David and into Warwick: David coming to terms with the new feelings inside him, of being stronger and believing in himself more; David wishing he’d felt this way a long time ago and mourning the fact that he hadn’t; David grappling with the guilt of having to kill Idaline and the devils, equating it with the death of Rachel, which, in Warwick’s opinion, wasn’t the same thing at all.

“Don’t,” Warwick said. “Rachel’s death was an accident, you must accept that. And as for Idaline and the others—I just know that if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us. All of us. Every single shifter out there.”

“We can’t let that happen.”

“No, we can’t—and we won’t. The Angels wouldn’t make us do something like this if there wasn’t a great need. They’re angels, for God’s sake, not a bad bone in their bodies, so for them to sanction a mass devil cull, there has to be something bigger going on, hence me mentioning us all being killed. I feel it inside, that we’ll be wiped out if you don’t do this thing.”

“I feel it, too, and it makes it a little easier to come to terms with it. I have to keep telling myself, whenever I think about the killing of them, that they’re not people. And when they were people, they were bad, otherwise they wouldn’t even be in the underworld. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”

“So we’re led to believe. Even full humans think the same way. If you’re bad, you go to Hell. If you’re good, you go to Heaven.”

“But isn’t killing bad and a reason to be sent to Hell?”

Warwick had known that question was coming. He’d pondered over it himself. And theoretically, yes, that was true, but in this case? No, he didn’t think after they’d culled every evil being from the shifter underworld that he and David would have to inhabit it themselves as punishment, waiting for new malevolent souls to arrive.

Suddenly, David jolted, sat forward, and stared ahead. Warwick saw what was going through his mate’s mind—after every single devil had burned to a crisp, the underworld’s rocky caverns powdered like the crumpled sword had, leaving behind a vast, dark-gray ash desert.

“Blimey,” David said. “We have to destroy the underworld, too.”

Warwick was shaking inside, but he was buggered if he’d let those shakes manifest on his outer body, letting David know he was just as afraid. But he had to voice the question that was spinning through his mind. “How do we destroy it without potentially destroying ourselves?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” David released a shaky sigh. “If we’re there, in the underworld, we risk being obliterated with it, don’t we? Exploding, boiling-hot rocks…”

“That can’t be.” Warwick shook his head. “The Angels must have something up their sleeves.

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