Anne was mentally drained from all she learned these past twenty-four hours. Yet, what she witnessed in the library with Joan haunted her and kept her awake. Her husband, bless his heart, suggested a nice cup of chamomile tea. When he poured a Scotch for himself as the kettle was on, Anne asked for a glass as well. Thomas watched in amusement as she gulped down the drink in one go.

"Easy there, lass." He chuckled. "That's pretty potent stuff."

"Not that strong if you can handle it," she bit back, a little sharper than she meant.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. It's just... I can't think straight right now."

"That bad, huh?"

Thomas listened closely as Anne recounted the scene between Gabriël and Michael. By the time she finished, he bore the same quizzical expression he had whenever he read a detective novel.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"It makes no sense," replied Thomas. "Why would Gabriël act like that towards the man? You saw how he was when he told us what he had discovered about Michael. There was only hate and disappointment. Unless... You said Gabriël's manner towards Michael changed after he told him he would step aside and let Gabriël take up the cloak of Lord Protector, right?"

"Yes, what's your point?"

"Isn't it obvious? He's pretending. Gabriël is making Michael believe he wants to return by giving him hope that something might yet happen between them. If Gabriël becomes Lord Protector, then Michael won't be able to go against him."

"You believe Gabriël intends to get Joan back in the Vale?"

"I'm sure of it." Thomas sat down and put the cup of tea in front of her. "It's the only logical explanation. We can protect Joan and the baby for now, but if there was a way... They would be safer up there than down here, and Gabriël knows it."

"But to manipulate Michael like this? I never thought Gabriël was capable of such a thing."

"People do crazy things for their loved ones."

Anne smiled sadly as Thomas brushed his hand against hers. She knew he still blamed himself for all those years they lost. But he couldn't compete against the King of England or Anne's family. Their ambition had doomed them all. The only one who had escaped Henry's wrath and the downfall of the Boleyns was her sister Mary. Her second husband had been her own choice, a marriage out of love. Anne recalled she'd named her sister a fool for making such a mistake and throwing all her good fortune away. Now she understood Mary had been the sensible one. 
The pair sat quietly, simply enjoying each other's company. The tea smelled and tasted divine. It wasn't long before the calming effect struck Anne. She could always count on her darling husband to come up with the comfort she needed. Her dark eyes peered up at him through her lashes. Her pinky stroked his. Thomas met her gaze. A sly grin appeared in the corner of his mouth. 

"How do you feel?" he asked, pretending casual conversation. 

"Hm, I don't think the tea is working," she replied, picking up on his intention. "I fear I'll be awake for the remaining hours of the night."

"Well, we can't have that." Thomas rose from his chair and drew closer, eyes never leaving Anne's. "Perhaps there is something else I can offer to do for my Lady?"

"Something else?" Anne's voice held a playful undertone. "Why, Lord Wyatt, whatever could you offer me?"

He cupped the side of her face. Heat rushed through Anne from that simple touch. She stretched her neck to meet him as he leaned in. Their lips were mere inches apart, when suddenly, Thomas jerked back and pressed a hand to his chest. 

"Thomas!" Anne jumped off her seat to support him. "What is it?"

"I'm -argh - I'm not sure. I think it's... My God, Anne, it's Adeline!"

Without saying another word, Thomas ran out of the kitchen, with Anne closely behind him.

"What's happened to her?" she yelled as she followed him through the corridors. "Thomas, answer me!"

"There's no time!" he shouted back to her. "I need to open a portal before it's too late! Get your bow and meet me outside!"

***

Cesare's patience was well rewarded. The Blood Countess's spell worked better and faster than he had dared hope. The ruby holding Kitty's blood lead him straight to Anne Boleyn's living descendants. All he had to do was focus, pick one of the faces the spell pushed into his mind, and begin the hunt. With every kill Cesare made, the diamond slowly returned to its original state. The blood had been spilt after all.
First, he went to an elderly man and woman in London. A couple with no children of their own, sleeping in their bed - an easy kill. Once, Cesare would have said that killing a man whilst he slept was how a coward got rid of an enemy. There was no honour in it. Yet his rage at the insult Anne Boleyn and Joan of Arc gave him made him blind to such trivialities now. All he desired was vengeance. The Fallen Angel was out of reach, and he could not get to the Boleyn whore directly. This would have to do to satisfy his bloodlust for now.
After making quick work of the sleeping couple, Cesare targeted a student in Paris, walking home from a party on his own. He cut him down, galloping down the alley on the back of his horse. The boy never even had time to turn around. His parents and younger sister joined him soon after. The woman had begged for mercy for her daughter, but Cesare was most reluctant to leave anyone with even a drop of Boleyn blood in their veins alive. 

His murderous rampage then led him to a small farm in the French countryside near Amboise. The woman he found there was the spitting image of Anne Boleyn. Same dark-brown hair, same sharp face... same fighting spirit.
Something must have alerted her of his presence, for as soon as Cesare broke down the door, she dealt him the first blow. Having kicked off the brushes of a broom, she handled her makeshift weapon as a sword and forced Cesare in the defence. Clearly, she had spent her childhood in the Sanctum and had not forgotten the lessons she had been taught.
A child's frightened voice coming from above distracted her, giving Cesare an opening. As her eyes flashed to the stairs, he kicked her in the chest. But the woman wasn't down for long and somersaulted backward onto her feet. She prevented Cesare from going upstairs by slamming the broomstick hard against his knee. Then she twirled it around and hit him across the face. Cesare tasted blood in his mouth as he crashed against the banister.
In a dazed state, he watched the woman leap over him and rush up the stairs. He scrambled up and pursued her. A door at the end of the landing slammed shut as he reached the last step. He lunged for the handle, but it was shut. He readied himself to kick it down, but halted when he heard scraping over the floor. She must've moved a desk or closet in front of the door to keep him from entering.

Stupid wench. Cesare grinned maniacally. A piece of furniture won't stop me.

He reached for the diamond around his neck. Holding on to the jewel, he thought of his prey, envisioning her clearly before him. He felt the diamond pull at him, and suddenly, he was outside again. The moonlight above shone brightly and his eyes soon found two figures running away from the farm towards the beckoning refuge of the nearby woods.
Cesare leapt onto his horse and went after them. Mother and child tried to outrun him by zigzagging between the trees, but his monstrous steed was used to this sort of hunt. Soon enough, he caught up to them and blocked their path. In one swift move, Cesare unsheathed his sword and swung. The blade nicked the woman's throat, only missing her because she jumped back in time. She fell back against an oak tree, blood trickling from the gash. The boy, possibly five or six years old, quickly stood in front of his mother to protect her, afraid but brave. He threw a rock at the warrior, which he easily deflected.

"How sweet," mocked Cesare. "Now let the grown-ups play, you runt." 

He slapped the child across his face with such force that the blow knocked the boy to the ground. The woman yelled in fury and attacked Cesare. She had no weapon, so all she could do was use her fists, which was no easy feat, as she also had to avoid his sword. Suddenly, she ducked and slammed her leg hard against the back of his knees. He had barely touched the ground when she quickly climbed on top of him and punched him in the face. 
Before she could repeat her action, he blocked her fist with his hand and pushed her down next to him. Now that he was the one on top, Cesare didn't hesitate a moment. Having lost his sword when he fell, he took a dagger from the hidden scabbard in his armour and pierced it straight through her hand. The woman gave out a bloodcurdling cry.
Cesare stood and kicked her so hard that she rolled over. She wheezed and gasped for breath, gripping her side with her uninjured hand. Not allowing her the chance to recuperate, Cesare kicked again, and then stomped on her knee. There was a sickening cracking sound, followed by another agonising scream. He smirked down on her. Even now, he didn't see fear in the woman's eyes, but utter defiance.

"You truly are your mother's daughter," he said, picking up his sword from where it fell.

"How do you know my mother?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"We've crossed paths. I never imagined a warrior in Queen Anne Boleyn. Or her brats."

"Guess we proved you wrong, then."

"And yet, of all her descendants I have encountered tonight, you are the only one who gave me a proper fight," Cesare said almost admiringly. "I respect that and will grant you and your boy the mercy of an honourable death. I won't behead you like I did the others. Leaves a mess anyway. And I will kill you first. Spare you the sight of having to watch your son die."

He put the tip of his sword against her chest, right above her heart. Yet before he could deliver the final blow, a bright light appeared before him, nearly blinding him. Cesare shielded his eyes, narrowing them to a sliver. He peered through his fingers. It almost seemed like someone had torn through the air with a knife. The pulsing ray rushed to engulf them, and in less than a second, they were no longer in the forest, but in an open place at the edge of a lake.
An angry male voice yelled out to him, "Get the hell away from my daughter, you bastard!"

Cesare was thrown onto his back by an immense, invisible force. It pushed him further and further into the ground. He tried to fight against it, but it was no use. Panic set in as the earth devoured him. He gripped the dirt, the grass, anything at all on which he could hold to. Then suddenly, the pressure on his body was released.
A dark shadow hovered above him. A fellow demon? Had it interfered with the magic at work? The figure rippled as an arrow shattered against it. Cesare crawled up, searching for the archer. His eyes widened when he saw none other than Anne Boleyn. She fired arrow after arrow at him and the shadow standing between them whilst her husband and another Nephilim disappeared with the woman and her son. It didn't matter. He had who he really wanted now. But when Cesare stepped forward, the shadow stopped him. Everything spun and the figure of the Resia Nephilim leader disappeared as the two demons returned to the pit whence they came.

***

Gabriël hugged Joan closer to him and kissed the top of her head. She responded with a content sigh and caressed his chest with the tip of his fingers. She'd heard it say that pregnancy boosted a woman's sex drive, but she never had imagined anything like the hunger she'd attacked Gabriël with. They had moved to the bed when their kisses had become more passionate, every trace of doubt left as their bodies ached to feel each other's warmth. She'd tried to be as quiet as possible, but it'd been wasted effort as she careened from one shattering orgasm into the next. It was a good thing their chamber was further away from the rooms of the Nephilim.
Though dawn wasn't far away, and they probably should attempt to sleep a few hours, Joan felt her desire stir again. Her fingers trailed dangerously close to Gabriël's hips. She was about to ask if he felt up to another round when she became aware of a commotion outside.
Joan pushed herself up with one hand as she held the sheets covering her naked body with the other. She looked at the door, then at Gabriël. He nodded in silent agreement. They dressed hastily and walked out together. The noise led them to the infirmary. 

"Oh, mon Dieu," said Joan as she beheld the sight before her.

Thomas tended to a young woman whilst Hypatia was bent over a little boy. His face was swollen on one side, and there was blood at his temple. Joan noticed the pyjamas and slipper socks the child wore. She looked over at the woman, barefoot, and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and in worse shape than the boy. Her throat was bleeding, her knee and chest were turning blue, and a dagger pierced through her hand.

"Olympe, take over for Hypatia. I need her here," ordered Thomas.

The Frenchwoman did as she was told, and Hypatia rushed to Thomas's side. Gabriël nudged Joan to move toward Juan and Richard, who anxiously watched them at work.

"What happened?" Gabriël asked. "Who are they?"

"Su familiar," answered the Spaniard. "The woman is Thomas and Anne's daughter, Adeline. The boy is her son, Remy. Thomas was alerted of a demonic presence near them by the protection crystals he placed on the property. He got to them just in time."

"Who did this?"

"Our old friend, Borgia."

Joan's head snapped toward Adeline. Her eyes focussed on the blade in her hand. It looked eerily familiar. She touched Gabriël's arm.

"I know," he said as he met her concerned gaze before approaching Thomas and Hypatia. "Be careful with that thing. It looks like the one he used on me."

The Nephilim mages froze and met each other's gaze before Hypatia turned to Gabriël.

"You think it's poisoned?" she asked.

"With that bastard, you never know."

"If Anne doesn't kill that son of a bitch, I fucking will," growled Thomas. "Everyone shut up now; I need to concentrate."

Using his magic, he pushed the dagger out of his daughter's hand and caught it in a cloth. He quickly wrapped it up and dropped it on the nightstand. Then, letting Hypatia take care of Adeline, Thomas stepped around her to check on his grandson. At that moment, Anne walked in, her face worried, her eyes angry.

"How are they?"

"Still not sure about Adeline," answered Thomas. "Remy isn't hurt too badly, though. Please tell me you finished Borgia off."

She shook her head, to which Thomas pinched his lips. He turned back to Adeline as Anne sat on their grandson's bed. Gingerly, she stroked his brown hair back. 

"Remy? Amour, ouvre tes yeux."

The boy's eyes fluttered. 

"Grand-mère?" Remy's voice was weak as he spoke. "Où est maman?"

"Ici, mon amour, elle dort. Tu peux nous dire ce qui s'est passé ?"

"Un homme. Il nous a attaqué."

"Tu sais pourquoi?"

"Non. Désolé, grand-mère, j'ai essayé de protéger maman. J'ai essayé !"

The boy cried. Anne took him into her arms to comfort him.

"Contact our families," she said to Thomas. "Take Juan with you."

"You think he's going after all of them?" asked Juan, fearfully.

"I'm sure of it." Anne then directed her attention to Richard. "Go to Peter and tell him what happened. Take the dagger with you. Borgia might have used the same poison on it as he did with Gabriël. We'll need Raphael's antidote."

The three men left the infirmary. Anne cradled her grandson as she watched Olympe and Hypatia dress her daughter's wounds. Gabriël walked over to Joan and tugged at her arm. She tore her gaze from the Nephilim women and the wounded to meet his. 

"This is my fault, isn't it?"

"It's not," reassured Gabriël. "Anne told me earlier how she fought Borgia. I know how he thinks. He must have felt humiliated at having been bested by her. This is personal."

"How did he do this? I thought there were charms to protect the descendants of the Nephilim, so demons can't trace them?"

"He must have found a way around those. Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To get some answers."

Leaving the Nephilim to their own, they briskly made their way to the Sanctum hall. Gabriël only stopped for a moment to open the heavy doors and then took Joan by the hand. In the blink of an eye and guided by white light, they stood in a clearing at the edge of a lake. She saw the church tower in the water, just as the Nephilim had described. Beyond that, tiny lights twinkled. A village or town, perhaps. Joan took in the fresh air. The sky was painted in a dozen colours, from dark to light. Stars winked above her. Leaves rustled in the wind. It was so peaceful here.
Gabriël stepped forward and stood perfectly still with his eyes closed and his hand around some sort of amulet he had pulled out from under his shirt. Joan watched him, curious at what he was doing. He said they were getting answers, but she didn't see how they could get those outside. She was cautious as well - Borgia, or one of his henchmen, could still hide nearby.

"Joan." Gabriël turned to her. "Do you remember what I told you? That everything I have done since we were separated, I did to get back to you?"

She nodded slowly. What was he going on about?

"There's something I haven't told you. I haven't really had the chance yet. It's about... how I got away from the Vale."

"What do you mean?" Joan grew suspicious.

"I had help... from an old friend."

Gabriël's expression prompted Joan to ask what she actually feared to hear.

"The demon inside your head? This... LightBringer, was it?"

"Yes. Even after Michael cleansed me with Heaven's Fire, our link remained for a while longer, and he helped me escape in return for..."

He fell silent. Joan's fear grew.

"Gabriël, what did you do?"

"I made a deal. Promised to be loyal to him."

Joan felt her stomach churn. She steadied herself, placing her hands on her knees. Gabriël hurried to her and held her by her arms.

"Joan, please don't. I know it's a shock, but there was no other way. I needed to get to you."

"But... you broke your vow."

"No, not completely. Not to God. I'm still one of His Archangels. But Michael doesn't deserve my loyalty, not anymore."

"How pleased I am to hear you say that, my dear friend."

Joan looked up to see a man had joined them. She gasped upon seeing the resemblance he shared with Gabriël. Same wavy hair to the shoulders but pitch black instead of fair chestnut coloured. Intense eyes that threatened to suck her into darkness. His chin and face were sharper, and he had a stubbled beard and moustache. He wore a black shirt with a scarlet vest and black tailored pants. He was the type of man that took every girl's breath away.

"Thank you for coming," said Gabriël, greeting the tall, dark, handsome stranger.

"I sensed you were in some distress." The man turned his attention to Joan, approaching slowly. "Have you told her about me?" 

"More or less. Joan, allow me to introduce you. This... is Lucifer."

The man took Joan's hand and pressed his lips on it. His touch felt cold and hot at the same time.

"Enchanté, my dear. It is an honour to finally meet you."