URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) by Aaron Patterson, Chris White

this far. And I thought that was impossible. He prayed whatever it was keeping them encamped would continue to hold them fast. If it came to open battle, his detachment was outnumbered three to one.
    But over time, he had learned how to conceal his thoughts from the rest, so he hid all his doubt. “We have nothing to fear, my noble angels. El’s Angel of Fire guards the gate night and day with a flaming sword on every side. None will pass through as long as he stands.”
    The man he considered his right hand said nothing. He had fought many battles, had won some and lost few. He did know he would take nothing for granted. Not now, as he could see with his own eyes these black hordes in bold trespass just beyond his walls. Even the Angel of Fire can be defeated. He dismissed the young angel and turned back to his old friend. “What is your assessment of morale?”
    “Weak. As if their power is being drained from them, as if—” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, “as if the demons are feeding upon it.”
    He nodded. When the time was right, his troops would be defenseless. He had to admire the enemy strategy. If it were true. “Tonight is the new moon. It will be very dark. Send two of your best to go beyond the trees to the thin place and observe the state of it. Tell them to see if there are more enemy troops coming. Give orders that they are to make their way back so they can scout the enemy camp and report any intelligence they can gather.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “This waiting does not accrue to our benefit if a battle is to be fought.” He spoke low, to himself. “The longer we wait, the weaker we get.”
    * * *
    Glasgow, Scotland, Present Day
    JORDAN WESTON TOOK THE phone call, waving off his secretary.
    It was the assassin, Valac. “I have something you want, Jiki, but money will not be sufficient this time.”
    Jordan leaned back in his chair and took a sip of Scotch. He sounds quite satisfied with himself. “You agreed to a price. The terms of the arrangement were for cash.”
    “Oh, we agreed, yes, but the situation has changed now. What I have is of more value to you than money. I might even call it priceless.”
    Jordan sat forward and leaned his elbows on the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his un-good hand. “I am growing tired of these games. What is it you think you have?”
    “The heir, the blood of the three. The rightful Seer.”
    Jordan set his glass down. The demon bluffs—how could he know? Jordan had his sources the world over, but who had Valac been listening to?
    “I’m waiting, darling. What’s your decision?”
    “Is he willing to come with you? Does he know?”
    There was a muted sound. “You really have underestimated me. Do you want him, or should I hand him over to that crazy one, old what’s-his-name? Kreios? Or maybe I’ll kill him and eat him. Better yet, I’ll deliver him to the anticherubim. They will kill him for sure, and then we can all be done with the whole thing.”
    Jordan rubbed his un-good arm. “If you harm him, I will make you yearn for death.” He wished Valac were standing right in front of him now. He unleashed a shout of frustration, venting his anger into the office ceiling. The secretary poked her head in with a concerned look on her face, but Jordan shooed her away.
    There was laughter coming over the phone line.
    “Okay, Valac,” he said, his tone cloying and sick. “I will pay whatever you want. Name it. It’s yours.” The Seer was the only one who could destroy the Tree of Life, and with that Tree still standing, they would never be rid of the cursed Sons of El. The anticherubim and their weak faction believed nothing but that the Alexander was the rightful Seer and they would stop at nothing to see Michael Alexander anointed, whether there really was a blood heir of the line with a prior claim or not.
    “I want the stone,” Valac said, his voice filled with malice.
    “Impossible!”
    “That’s my new price. You can