Читать книгу Ashes of Angels - Michele Hauf - Страница 8

Samandiriel shook off the vehicle from his wings. Metal creaked and split. A tire rolled up against the snowbank. The backseat wobbled and fell from the passenger half of the vehicle.

He eased a hand over his shoulder. That little misadventure had taxed his mortal muscles to weary bands. Though his wings were of silver—indicative of his mastery over the silversmith art—they were adamant and indestructible. Yet there was only so much damage this mortal body could take, even in its half form, which was as close to his original ineffable form he could get while on earth.

He glanced at the mangled car. He’d had to rip his wings out sideways to get free. “Bitch,” he muttered, but the anger that had spurred his shift subsided quickly.

It had been a common human reaction to fear. Yet the muse had known what to expect. She had known he would come for her. And it appeared the petite bit with the big brown eyes and beribboned hair could handle herself in a threatening situation.

With a smart cock of his head side to side, he then unfurled his wings completely and followed with a whole-body shake that flexed muscles and tested mortal bones for endurance. Nothing broken.

Thing is, he had no intention to hurt the muse, as she suspected. Cassandra Stevens was a beauteous creation to admire. He could look at her ever after, admire her fine bone structure, the soft brown flesh and long hair that seemed alive with depth. Her voice spoke to him in vivid pinks and violets, bathing him in a luscious sensory oasis.

But once in this form, and if he were near Cassandra, he would feel the compulsion, the need to mate with the muse.

After his original Fall, Samandiriel had observed his brothers. The Fallen went after their muses with sanguine intent and did not care that they harmed, hurt or damaged the muse psychologically and physically. Their only focus was to mate with them, to experience the carnal pleasures that had tempted them to Fall.

Yet after that initial Fall, the Great Flood had washed over the lands and swept his fellow Fallen from the earth. Samandiriel had been imprisoned in the Ninth Void, awaiting release. He’d had much time to think.

He wanted nothing to do with the wicked pact he’d joined in with his brethren. All he desired was to return Above. But to do so, he suspected he must prove his worthiness, which necessitated his current mission.

A mission to ensure his Fallen brethren did not achieve their goal. And for the other reason, once a Fallen mated with a muse a nephilim would germinate, be born, and destroy all living things in its path.

Yet that mission had been altered after learning about the vampires. So much work to do. And here he stood, having been defeated by an odd electronic device wielded by a tiny woman.

“Bloody bunch of good you’ve done so far.”

He’d walked the world upon arrival on earth yesterday. His kind could move swiftly over the land and sea, taking in knowledge of all things, places, ideas and emotions. He now knew all languages, cultures and history. He knew the modern world, and admired it as much as he worried for it. It was clean and beautiful and ugly and devious. Children suffered and adults wallowed in self-important luxuries. The pious existed right alongside the profane and psychotic. What an ugly yet necessary mix.

Once he had achieved his goal, he would not remain long after.

During his walk around the world, he’d only picked up flickers of knowledge regarding the Fallen. The vampiress with the halo hunter had provided the most curious information. He’d been summoned—by vampires.

Vampires and the Fallen? He suspected it had something to do with the nephilim but couldn’t piece that together.

Shaking his wings down, his mortal muscles screamed in protest. He’d not felt such pain, ever. But he did not condemn the pain. It indicated he was part of this world now. Not completely mortal—he intended to retain his angelic half at all costs—but appreciative of all The Most High had given the creatures of the earth.

With a shuffle of his shoulders, he assumed complete human form. His leather trousers and boots were intact, but the shirt was a loss. He picked off shreds of torn white fabric from his arms and shoulders. Snowflakes landed on his skin but did not melt. Due to his cold blood, he didn’t feel the winter chill as a human.

Fascinating how the tiny flakes fluttered down from the clouds. There was much to marvel over as he learned the world. Samandiriel cautioned himself not to get lost in wonder when the greater task demanded his complete focus.

A shirt was in order—he had to fit in. But first he must find the muse. If Cassandra Stevens knew so much, she could prove an ally on his earthly quest. And, he simply wanted to bask in her presence. Because she was his. And he wanted to be near her. To touch her and hold her and—not harm her.

He took two steps across the slick, snowy tarmac. A female scream spun him about, eyes tracking the unremarkable building fronts in the darkness. “Cassandra?”

He’d thought her long gone after witnessing his forced shift.

Again, she screamed, from somewhere in the vicinity a few blocks behind him. Samandiriel’s boots dug into the packed snow, and he took off running.

The thugs had knives, and Cassandra had left all weapons in the car with the angel. Samandiriel. Too weird that her Sam had finally found his way to her, yet why should she think it weird? She’d been expecting him all her life.

One thug sporting a huge diamond earring, but not resembling an NBA all-star, had demanded her purse, which she didn’t have—it was in the car. The other thug, who bore a closer resemblance to an all-star, only because he was so tall, waved a chipped blade menacingly. She could guess they weren’t going to leave her without getting something.

Yeah? She had an expert roundhouse kick she’d give them both. But the first smart line of defense was to run. So she dodged to the right and raced toward the chain-link fence blocking off the alley. Hooking her fingers in the frozen links, she pulled herself up, yet a boot toe slipped on the icy metal, causing her to drop.

Hanging from the fence by numb fingers, Cassandra struggled for hold. Her attackers did not come after her from below. One jumped over her head and landed a precarious balance on top of the fence. An impossible feat. How had he—?

He grinned down at her from his gargoyle post, revealing long, pointy fangs.

Shit. Her fingers slid from the chain links, and Cassandra dropped to the ground.

Vampires were not something she’d trained to defend herself against. Only recently her sister, Coco, had alerted her to the vampires’ involvement in the frazzled mess she called her life. She’d been doing research and had secured a weapon, but hadn’t expected them so soon. Or ever.

Straightening, she drew in a breath. When life gave her surprises, Cassandra snapped to all-systems-ready mode.

The fence vamp dropped and backed her up against a garbage bin in the dead-end alley. Snow swirled in from the street, and she was starting to feel some serious freeze on her thighs where her boots ended and didn’t meet her dress. Never mind the chill against her bare back that made it difficult to stand still.

Stupid to have abandoned her car in this weather. But it wasn’t as if it was drivable with an angel literally embedded within it.

Times like this she wished for superheroine powers. She’d often wondered what her muse powers were. Shouldn’t she have some? Granny Stevens had always shaken her head and smiled wistfully.

Her wrist itched and the sigil glowed. That could be very bad, or possibly a lifesaver at a moment like this one.

“You got some kind of funky tattoo?” the one with the blade demanded. He did not sound German, but rather Russian, though he spoke English well enough.

“Wait,” the not-all-star, diamond-earring thug said. “You know what that is, Russell?”

“Haven’t a clue. Some kind of club stamp?”

“I think we found her.” The biggest thug crushed her petite body against the wall with his two-hundred-fifty-plus-pound frame, most of the weight in his gut. “Go keep watch,” he said over a shoulder to his buddy.

“If she’s one of them, we have to bring her to the boss.”

“We will. Isn’t that right, pretty little muse?”

Now Cassandra screamed. It was involuntary, her body reacting against her brain’s better judgment.

The one who’d went to keep watch soared over her and her aggressor’s heads and landed on the top of the garbage bin with a dull thud. The blade dropped from the tossed man’s hand and landed in the snow.

“What the hell?” The vampire holding her switched his attention to the tall, shirtless man standing not ten feet from them. He held a Taser in one hand and wielded a cocky grin like a switchblade.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” the angel said.

“What took you so long?” Cassandra spit. The vampire still held her by a shoulder, but if he twisted farther to look at the angel …

“Sorry. I had to shake a car off my wings.”

“Your wings?” the vampire asked. “What, are you some kind of faery?”

The angel straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “I say wings, and your first guess is faery?” He shook his head and made a come- and-get-me gesture with the fingers wrapped around the Taser.

The vampire released Cassandra and turned to the angel in time to catch the Taser’s copper hooks with his thighs.

Sam preened over the powerful device and nodded. “This is nice. I gotta get one of these for myself.”

The vampire ripped out the hooks from his legs and growled. “Try again, you bloody faery.”

“You shouldn’t use foul language in front of a lady.” Tucking the Taser into a back pocket, the Fallen then held up a palm, fingers tight together, and pointed them toward the vampire. “You ready for this?”

“Ready for—”

The angel shoved his spaded fingers through the vampire’s chest, pulled him forward and slapped his spasming body onto the ground. A hot, meaty blood scent assaulted Cassandra’s nose. The angel roared in myriad tongues like he had in the car. And in one hand, he held a bloody mass from which a puddle of crimson rapidly formed around his boots.

“Mercy.” Cassandra’s knees wobbled. She was on the verge of hypothermia, too out of sorts, and she’d just watched an angel rip out a vampire’s heart.

“Too bad there aren’t any witches in the area,” the warrior angel commented to the blubbering vamp. “I know they have a use for vampire hearts. Keeps them immortal.”

The angel tossed the heart behind him, then made a gesture with his fingers that sent the vampire, seemingly weightless as a pillow, onto the garbage bin atop the other attacker.

He bent and plunged his bloody hand into the snow to clean it off, and Cassandra noticed the flesh on his back was seamless. No sign wings had been there. It was broad and burnished from the sun and it would probably warm her if she clung to him….

Just need heat.

“Shall we?” Sam offered an arm, glistening with fresh-fallen snow and vampire blood. “I don’t think these two are the sort you should be spending your time with, honey.”

“D-don’t honey me.”

“It is a mortal endearment. You prefer sweetie? Perhaps mein little cupcake?”

“Please, spare me your pitiful attempts at charm.” Cassandra stumbled past him, but turned and grabbed the Taser from his back pocket. “Give me that. It’s mine.”

The angel slapped a hand to her wrist, easily winning the weapon from her frozen grasp. He tilted the stubby barrel against his shoulder and eyed her calmly. “Take it from me, and it’s yours. Cupcake.”

Like that was possible.

And what was with the endearments? If he thought to win her over, the guy needed to take off and never return.

Cassandra turned and marched away from the one man on earth she knew wanted to do her harm. And it wouldn’t be by chance, like the two idiots piled on top of each other at the end of the alley.

Sam hooked an arm in hers and walked her swiftly down the snowy street. Cassandra struggled to keep up. All parts of her felt heavy and burned, but the sight of the mangled car made her pause. Cut open and the steel carapace peeled back, it looked as if someone had taken a giant can opener to it. “You think that looks bad, you weren’t the one trying to get it off your wings,” the angel said. “Clever trick, though.”

“The T-Taser is mine.”

“I’ll keep a hand on it for a bit.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To your home. You need to get supplies.”

“F-for what?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Cassandra, vampires are after you.”

“As well as a Fallen angel!”

“I’m not after you. I’ve already found you, dear one. The vampires, on the other hand, are on the hunt for muses. I’m sure you’ve plenty more weapons at your home, and probably some nasty angel spells, too, eh?”

“Spells that’ll repel you from me. If you think we’re going t-to g-get busy—”

“I’ve already explained I’ve no intent to harm you. Convincing you will have to wait. You’re shivering madly. Your skin is colder than mine. Frostbite is a real danger. I won’t have that.”

“You’d pass up a ch-chance to nab some nasty vamps to get me warm?”

His eyes grabbed her the moment they connected. Cassandra could not resist the warmth in them, the utter dazzle of colors. Did he possess some kind of mind control? Some means to see into her thoughts? Transfixed, she swallowed.

“I would do anything you ask, Cassandra.”

“Anything? Then let go of me. I can walk myself.”

“You can barely stand.” He lifted her into his arms, and the thought to struggle did not come to her fuzzy mind. “I can find your home.”

“Can you read my thoughts?”

“Now that I’ve you in my arms, I can read your heat trail.”

That sounded nifty, but she didn’t say so as he marched her south. She allowed him to do so because she wasn’t thinking straight and she needed to conserve her energy so she could think once she got home.

“So … you’re S-Sam?” My Sam, she thought. Then she mentally kicked herself. Hard.

“You know much. I had expected you would initially be quite surprised by me.”

“My Granny Stevens taught me everything she knew about angels and demons and me being a muse,” she said.

They turned west. Her apartment was just up the street. She was not leading him, but her shivering limbs homed on it like a beacon and he probably sensed that.

“You know angel names?”

Time to shut up. If he wasn’t going to tell her his name again, it didn’t matter to her. As soon as she got home, she’d perform an angel repulsion spell and kick his ass back to the Ninth Void.

After she warmed up. Would she ever warm? Her blood had stopped moving, she felt sure. And her skin burned with frostbite.

“Samandiriel is my name,” he finally confirmed. “And please, release your worries regarding our connection. I Fell with a greater purpose than merely tupping mortal females.”

“Right. You’re holier than holy then? Tell me another one.”

“Have I tried to attempt you yet?”

“No, but you are taking me home. What are you going to do with me once we get there?”

“That’s up to you, Cassandra. It’s all up to you now.”

Sounded ominous, and like a cop-out. She couldn’t control anything but keeping her own ass safe. She’d done it for twenty-seven years. She had sacrificed a lot over the years. Intimate relationships, for one thing. It was always difficult explaining why she spent all her time studying angels and martial arts to a boyfriend who preferred her to focus on him.

For the same reasons, good friends also fell by the wayside.

But that sacrifice meant she was now prepared for the worst—doom. And doom had just come knocking.

Though she hadn’t been prepared for Sam’s conflicting behavior. He didn’t want to have sex with her? She’d been taught that was the Fallen’s principal purpose for walking earth.

Coco should leave for Berlin tomorrow with a pregnant muse in tow. Ophelia O’Malley hadn’t been so lucky avoiding her Fallen. Cassandra wasn’t sure what they could do for her, since she was but days from delivery.

Now that Sam had landed on earth she might have to call off the gathering of muses she’d convinced to join her. It wasn’t safe with a Fallen in Berlin. Right next to her, actually. Carrying her. Which her shivering limbs appreciated right now.

The best she could do was to kill Sam before Ophelia arrived.

That was a plan she had covered. Although it would come off much easier if he were not carrying a Taser and not seemingly able to read her mind. The man knew too much about her already.

“You l-learned the world after you were summoned?” she wondered.

“Yes, it’s an interesting place, I must say. I imagine the earth is a Sinistari’s pleasure dome.”

The Sinistari were demons forged specifically to slay the Fallen. She could really use one of them right now.

“So vampires summoned you?”

“I learned that truth from a vampiress who was in love with a halo hunter.”

Cassandra would not allow him to see her gulp. She knew exactly what couple he was talking about. She’d developed a network of muses and, as a result, others in the know, like halo hunters.

Sam marched her up a snowy path and kicked open the door to her building. “The vampires want you and me to get together much more than you or I do, trust me on that one.”

He set her inside and she stumbled forward, but hit the stairs at a run. It felt like a run, but was actually a laborious climb up four steps. Her limbs bent with great difficulty. Icy fingers didn’t properly grasp the iron railing.

He beat her to her apartment door. Cassandra huffed with exhaustion, stunned she hadn’t seen him pass her up. The angel flashed her his cocky grin, and—was that puppy-dog look admiration?

Wrong time; wrong guy. If only Marcus had been more romantic, she might have avoided this date with destiny.

Wrong, Cassandra. The angel would have found you. Be thankful Marcus hadn’t revealed a hero complex when that happened. Protect the innocents.

She leaned against the wall, thankful for the support. One thing she never minded about this building was that the landlord blasted the heat out into the central hallways. Already she felt melty and the tingling in her fingertips had stopped.

“My house keys are in the car. You owe me a car. I’m not rich, and I just paid that thing off.”

“You won’t need a car to do what we’ve to do.”

“I don’t need your help to stop the apocalypse, buddy.”

“I prefer your shortening of my name to Sam over some senseless nickname,” he offered. “And who said anything about the apocalypse? I want to slay the Fallen and annihilate the vampires. That’s far from end of days.”

“You really hate the Fallen, eh?”

“I do not subscribe to hate. I don’t know how. But I will do whatever is necessary to make things right.”

He didn’t know how to hate? Made sense in the greater spirit of angels and divine goodness, but the Fallen were not the good guys, so why couldn’t they hate?

He gripped the doorknob and twisted it hard. It splintered the wood around the lock and he opened it and walked inside. “Don’t worry, you won’t be returning.”

“Like hell I won’t. You are not the one who gets to tell me what to do,” she said, feeling her energy return in spurts of warmth rushing through her veins. “Why wouldn’t I return? This is my home.”

“Because as of right now, you are on the run.”

“Yeah?” Rubbing her hands together, Cassandra soaked the loft’s toasty warmth in through her pores. “Generally the person one runs from does not accompany them on that escape.”

“You’re not running from me.”

“Oh, right, the vampires. I forgot.”

She lived in a vast third-floor loft that stretched the building’s width. The highly glossed cement floors flashed with moonlight, and at the south end gray velvet furniture nestled before the floor-to-ceiling window. Tiny blue spotlights—she always left them on—in the ceiling tracks to her right lit the kitchen with what she’d always called an ethereal glow.

The angel strode about and sorted through her things, lifting the couch cushions and tugging open the drawers on the coffee table. He found the pistol in the coffee table and tucked it into the waistband of his pants, next to her Taser.

Shaking first her left foot then her right, Cassandra worked the blood back to her extremities. She wasn’t completely warm yet, and sensed her blazing cheeks may have developed a touch of frostbite.

Sam turned to her, too sexy in only leather pants and boots. In the midst of a winter storm, he had marched her home wearing nothing but that. Stunning.

His shoulder-length dark hair, scruffed this way and that, spoke more of the bed-tousled look than angry warrior. Muscles and, well—who could disregard those guns? And since when had a man accessorized with deadly weapons appealed to her? She liked danger, but not the sort that could kill.

“Where is the rest of your arsenal?”

“In the bedroom,” she offered sweetly.

He stalked down the hallway.

Cassandra made a beeline for the shelf of cookbooks above the stove. She pulled out the red leather-bound grimoire Granny had given her and paged to the spell designed to put a force field of white light around her to protect her from angels.

She found the dog-eared page and began to chant the Latin verse.

A hand slammed the book shut, pinching her fingers in it. An overbearingly sexy male leaned over her shoulder, whisking her bare back with the hard curve of his pectoral muscle. “No, sweetie. You don’t want to keep me at a distance.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.” Mostly. Yes, she did! “Back off, will you?”

“And what will you do when the vampires come? How will you protect yourself?”

“If you’d stop raiding my arsenal, I’d give ‘em what-for with a bullet to the brain.”

“Won’t kill a vampire. You need a wooden stake.”

“That’s Dracula movie stuff. The stake doesn’t need to be made of wood, and that’s definitely not the only way to kill a vampire. A bullet will slow a vamp down, and I’ve a machete to slice off their heads, and …”

And something special she wasn’t going to reveal to anyone. She had to keep at least one ace up her sleeve.

“That’ll probably do the job.” The angel slid a hand along her jaw, and when Cassandra thought he was feeling her skin, deciding if she were soft enough for him to have his way with her, he abruptly tipped up her chin. “You want a repulsion spell against me? I’ll give you a simple one. A means to put me back and give you space. You can use it if I ever feel the compulsion come upon me.”

“The compulsion?” She knew what he was talking about, but wanted to hear it from him.

“To have sex with you.”

She swore at the back of her throat and her body sank against the stove. Granny had explained all this and had made Cassandra and her sister repeat it until they’d known it by rote. But until now she’d never felt the implications of what it would be like to stand before the man who wanted to ruin her life.

Why must he be so handsome? And his eyes. All angels had kaleidoscope eyes, but she’d never imagined the mix of colors could be so utterly captivating. She didn’t want to run from him, she wanted to put her arms around him, and—no!

Snap out of it, Caz. The moment you start thinking you’re a muse—an object that an angel seeks to use—then you’ve lost the battle. You’re more than that. You are strong. You’ve trained for this!

“Listen, Cassandra.” He lifted her by the elbow to stand straight and she met his eyes. It was peaceful there. His voice soothed her too sweetly for a man she should fear. “The word is agothé. Try it.”

“Agothé.”

As if struck by an invisible force, the angel was slammed against the kitchen wall, his arms pinned out and his feet dangling above the cement floor. His bare chest, impossibly strapped with muscles of steel, heaved.

He smiled. “See?”

“How long does that work for?” She slunk along the counter, backing away from him.

“Not long.”

Not long was long enough for her.

Cassandra raced down the hallway and into her bedroom. Kicking off her wet boots, she grabbed a pair of black wool leggings and slipped them on. Pulling out of a drawer a thick red sweater she knew she was going to need to stay warm, she first put on a tank top, then yanked the sweater over her head and tugged it over her hips.

Because the angel was right. She couldn’t stick around here any longer. Not now that the Fallen knew it was her home.

Her computer flickered, and she grabbed the flash drive from the USB port. It was on a nylon lanyard, which she pulled over her head. Next important item was her rosary, which she slipped on next to the lanyard, then thought about it and tucked it under the sweater. Granny had given it to her; she didn’t want to lose it.

Another Taser from the bedside drawer she fit into her back pocket. The pocket-size Ruger she kept stuffed between the mattresses wasn’t there. The angel must have found it during his swift reconnaissance.

She ran out of the bedroom and slammed into a solid object. Her palms slapped against hard, muscled flesh. For a moment, she stared at his skin, nicely tanned and stretched like silk over steel. How could a body be so hard? And why did a flash of her tongue tracing between his nipples disturb her thoughts?

“Told you it only works a short while,” he offered with a wry grin.

She began to say the word again, but he pressed a palm over her mouth. “It was just for you to try. Hear me out before you turn the word into a Tourette’s tic.”

She nodded.

“What’s this?” He grabbed the flash drive and pulled it from the plastic cover.

“Nothing. Just important papers. Financial stuff, you know. If I’m not returning …”

Pushing her back into the bedroom, he inserted the USB in the computer drive, and Cassandra was so shocked at the angel’s actions she stumbled to sit on the bed. It was as if he knew her every secret. Or had been given a clue to finding each one. Could their sigils have something to do with that? She just didn’t know.

She averted her gaze to the silver angel posed on the dresser. The face resembled the live angel poised before the computer. Had she brought him to life by invoking him in silver?

She caught her head in her palms. The silver rings she wore reminded her of another time she’d tried to invoke danger. Would she never learn?

The monitor beeped, prompting her attention, and a list flashed on the screen. Sam turned and eyed her. “Financial stuff?”

“It’s just a list,” she murmured. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

“A list of all the Fallen ones’ names and … their sigils.” He whistled, impressed. “Honey, you do not want this to fall into vampire hands.”

“It’s not going to.”

“No, because I’ll make sure it doesn’t” He dragged the computer file to the trash.

Cassandra dove for the flash drive and tugged it out. He gripped her wrist. “Agothé!”

The angel was forced against the wall again, arms spread. He struggled futilely. “Fine! Keep it,” he said. “But you make sure it is erased from the computer and any other copies you have are destroyed. Your home will be searched, I can guarantee it.”

She thought about it. He seemed to know what was up in this whole war between the vampires, Fallen and muses. Double clicking the trash icon, she emptied it.

“Where’s the original?” he asked.

“I burned it after transferring it to the computer.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cassandra.”

“I’m not.”

Okay, so she was, but he didn’t need to know she had the original book and was still in the process of scanning all the pages into digital files. Granny had suggested she be very careful with the last page; it wasn’t to be scanned—ever.

She made a concerted effort not to look out the bedroom door to the bathroom as she grabbed the Taser and marched out, leaving him pinned to the wall next to her X-Files poster and the angel sculpture.

He met her in the living room poised casually near the couch, hands on his hips. How did he do that? It was as if he could move at supernatural speed—ah, yes. He had the ability to walk swiftly, hundreds of miles an hour. It is what he’d done to walk the world and gain knowledge. Because he couldn’t fly. Once an angel’s feet touched earth, they lost their divinity, and their.

Cassandra noticed the object hooked at his hip for the first time. “Your halo?”

She clamped a palm over her mouth. He had his own halo? But he should have lost that when Falling. It was a powerful weapon in the hands of its owner.

He tapped the circlet, and it clinked dully. “Found it in the halo hunter’s bag. It is mine.” He stroked the curved blade and it glowed as blue as Cassandra’s sigil had.

Despite her dread, an innate curiosity nudged to the surface of her mind, and Cassandra leaned toward the marvelous device. “Can I touch it?”

He snapped it against his chest. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You afraid I can use it? Mortals can’t kill angels.”

“In theory.”

Really? Well, that went a ways in answering a few of her questions. Perhaps a mortal could kill an angel; in fact, she knew that one had. He wasn’t about to hand over something she could use as a weapon against him. Smart angel.

“It holds your earthbound soul,” she stammered. “Why don’t you claim it? Then you don’t have to …” Hurt me, she couldn’t say.

“Don’t want it. When I’m finished here …” He looked aside, apparently unwilling to complete that statement.

So the angel had a few secrets of his own. Which meant he wasn’t entirely undefeatable. If the enemy had a secret, it was most certainly his greatest weakness.

“You ready to rock?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Where is a Sinistari demon when I need one?”

“You know more than I expected,” he said.

“What were your expectations? A stupid woman who would swoon at your feet and beg you to take her to bed?”

He smirked. “I am pleased you are not as you describe. Do you have a spell to summon the Sinistari?”

“I do.” Cassandra eyed the grimoire, lying open on the black granite kitchen counter.

The angel took it and the book sparked into flames. He held it until the flames began to lick at his flesh, then dropped it in the sink.

“Now you don’t. So here’s the plan. We will go after the vampires. Kill them all. That’ll take care of their interference. And if we encounter any Fallen along the way, we’ll take those out, too. That’s what this will come in handy for.” He tapped the halo.

“And why do I need to come along? Wouldn’t it be safer if you tucked me away somewhere?”

“I need to protect you. I can’t do that unless you’re with me. You’ve already seen what can happen if you go off on your own.”

“That was a coincidence. They intended to rob me—”

“Oh, really? And since when are vampires more interested in robbing than biting?” He lifted a querying brow. “This will be dangerous for you. Are you willing to risk everything, Cassandra?”

“For what? To save the world? To end some kind of apocalypse?”

“It’s not the apocalypse, but it is the beginning of a very dark time. Should the vampires succeed in breeding more nephilim—I am aware one is soon to be born, and nothing good can come of that—something very akin to the end times could result. We’ll need stakes.”

“What about the Sinistari?”

“What about those metal-brained misfits of angeldom?”

“A Sinistari can kill you, thus ending your grand plans to save the world.”

“You put your faith on the wrong side, Cassandra.”

“I don’t believe in faith.”

“Ah? You do have faith—you just don’t want to believe in yourself.”

“I suppose an angel would say something like that. Sort of your creed, eh? If it works for you. But it doesn’t work for me.”

“Please.” He extended a hand. “Trust me?”

She shook her head and took a step away from him. “I trust no one.”

“Your grandmother teach you that? Smart old lady.”

“She’d kick your ass if she was still alive. She was black belt karate and a judo master.”

“Impressive. I’m guessing she taught you that defense jazz you attempted against the vampires?”

Cassandra nodded.

“I have those skills and more. The strength of a dozen mortal men, surely. Can you at least agree I may have the ability to protect you?”

“You may. But I’m not sure I wouldn’t be safer hitching the train to Siberia.”

“The Fallen walk all parts of the world. You know about them seeking their muses. If the Fallen has attempted his muse, then he goes on to the next muse, and the next. Which means not only are the vampires pursuing you, but also frustrated Fallen.”

Again he extended his hand.

Danger? She was all for it. But she worked alone.

Cassandra made to slap her palm onto his, but instead, she shoved him toward the center of the living room and recited the ancient spell, “Letencious! Tricurcious!”

A triumvirate of angel sigils drawn with invisible ink on the wall behind the television, the front door and the wall in the kitchen connected, trapping the angel in the center of the living room.

Sam slammed a fist against the invisible wall. A kick of his boot proved as ineffective. “Oh, this is rich. You think you can keep me in here while you go play with the vampires?”

“I’m not going near the bloodsuckers.” Cassandra stuffed her feet into knee-high boots lined in fur that she kept by the door, then scrounged for her leather gloves, which should be in the drawer at the end of the kitchen counter. “And you’re not coming along to protect me.”

“Don’t do this,” he said calmly, so quietly she paused and looked at the icon of a man who stood trapped but inches away. “Cassandra, please.”

“Don’t use my name,” she said. “You have no power over me!”

“Cassandra Stevens, muse mine. We have been bonded since the beginning. Since before you were born.” He rubbed a palm over his bare chest. “Do you think this is easy for me? To deny the compulsion?”

“You said you didn’t feel it unless you were in half form. Easy, or not easy, don’t you think it’s safer for me to keep you under lock and key? What if this compulsion does hit you? Will you be able to stop yourself from attacking me?”

“I hope so.”

“Hope? Oh, brother. More angel babble.”

“In this human form I am not a threat to you,” he protested.

“I know the drill, buddy. Only in half form—what the hell were your wings made from anyway?”

“Silver. Interesting, isn’t it,” he noted, with a nod to a silver plate on the wall, “that you are a silversmith?”

She lifted a brow. Manipulating the metal gave her a sense of control. It was the most natural thing when she crafted silver to her will.

“I didn’t pick the craft because of you.”

“I’d be surprised if you had. On the other hand, it makes perfect sense you’d choose silver. Let me out and I’ll show you some new tricks with the metal.”

“I’m not in the mood for creating tonight. It’s late, and I’m out of here. If you manage to escape, you can have the place. There’s food in the fridge. I’m not sure if angels eat.”

“Don’t go out on your own, Cassandra! “

She opened the front door to a black metallic creature with horns and glowing red eyes.