IRINA’S SOUL BLINKED like a plane on a radar screen. Af hooted a triumphant laugh and elbowed his way through the crowd. Yes! She was south of him. Someplace called Virginia. He’d bet the fate of the world that Seth was still with her. In five minutes, he’d be knee deep in demon blood! He’d spend all day peeling those bloody scales off one at a time. Seth would beg for death long before it came. Caught up in this imminent victory, he dismissed the human witnesses and launched himself into the air—
aaannnd landed flat on his face in the middle of the wet sidewalk.
“Hey, dumbass, get out of the way!”
“Weirdo.”
Someone stepped on his fingers as the crowd parted around him before he rocketed back to his feet with his face flaming with embarrassment. Two men dressed in black business suits dodged him without slowing their pace. A woman on his right wasn’t as quick and barreled into him, sending a cup of scalding coffee flying across his chest.
“What the hell, dude? Get out of the way!”
That’s enough! Throwing his arms out wide, he snarled, “A plague on you all!” before shoving his way into the nearest alley to regroup. Panting with humiliation, he punched the side panel of a delivery van. “Fuck!”
What was he thinking? His wings were gone. Gone! He couldn’t fly to Virginia. He couldn’t fly anywhere! Sonofabitch. He was so screwed. Shielded from the street, he rounded his shoulders, trailing his fingertips over the spot where his wings should be. He could almost feel them tugging his shoulders upwards as they unfurled and lifted for flight. Gazing at the sliver of sky peeking between the suffocating buildings, he imagined himself soaring up and away from this disgusting alley, wings behind him as he climbed into the heavens, the bracing cold surrounding his body as he cut through the cloud cover and the searing heat of the sun warming him, softening his feathers . . .
With a ragged sigh, he threaded his fingers through his hair and sagged against the van. It was pointless to dream. Dreams were for creatures that were powerless to take action. He had no use for dreams. He made things happen. It was in his DNA. He would find Seth and get this cursed sigil removed. He would fly again if it was the last thing he ever did.
There was no other ending for him. He was an Angel of Destruction. The power in his feathers gave him that distinction. He needed his wings for so much more than flight. Staring at his reflection in the van’s window, he caught himself raising one shoulder in annoyance, twitching wings that weren’t there. Shit. Without his wings, he was just another angel. And an earthbound one at that.
To add insult to injury, a pair of purple and grey pigeons settled on the dumpster in front of him. Studying him with their beady, black eyes, they started pruning their tail feathers, making stupid pigeon noises as they worked.
“So you can fly? Good for you. Too bad you’re at the bottom of the food chain. When you get old and slow, something will eat your stupid asses.”
The bird closest to him stopped pruning to raise its wing in a defiant wave. Was it mocking him? He hissed at it. With an un-pigeon-like squawk, it launched itself at Af’s head, leaving a trail of shit as it pumped its wings to get airborne.
Whirling with fury, he shot the other bird between the eyes with a blast of energy that left him a featherless, smoking corpse. “Try to fly now, smartass.”
Blowing up the pigeon didn’t make him feel any better. He was more pissed off than when he started out this morning. He’d thought he was free. He’d gotten around Raphael’s security system and found a way to track Seth. He’d thought this would be simpler.
Escape. Find Seth. Murder Seth.
He’d forgotten one big component of this brilliant plan; getting his actual hands on Seth.
He couldn’t fly.
Damn it all to Hell and back! He was going to get back into the sky if it killed him or anyone else who got in his way.
Being trapped here while that bastard Seth roamed free was out of the question. Seth was going down one way or another. He might not have his wings, but he was still an angel; still one of his father’s best creations; still smarter and much stronger than most of his brothers and sisters. Other angels lived among humans—they blended in—how hard could it be?
Think, Af, think. He’d planned the destruction of entire cities: Sodom, Gomorrah, Pompeii, Atlantis . . . Surely he could adapt to flightless transportation. As he stood in the alley, the beginnings of a real plan started to come together. The first thing he needed was a location. Where was his quarry?
Irina’s signal was moving again. She was coming north. There had to be a way to get to her. Walking was too slow. He’d never catch up to them that way. How did humans get around? Howling police sirens brought his head up as two black and white cruisers screamed past the alley. Yes, walking was too slow . . . but driving? That could work. Moving around to the driver’s side window, he peered into the van. He’d been inside vehicles before. They all had the same basic equipment, right? Steering wheel. Pedals for going and stopping. How hard could driving be?
“If humans can do it, I can do it.”
The door was locked. Of course it was. Humans were a suspicious breed. No problem. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and the lock disengaged with a thought. Sliding in quickly, he settled his ass into the seat and put both hands on the wheel and imagined moving forward. The van didn’t move. “Why am I not moving?” Muttering to himself, he turned the wheel back and forth, but he still didn’t move. “What the fuck?”
Oh. Yeah. The pedals. Feeling a little stupid now, he stomped down on one then the other, cursing when the van ignored his commands. Something was wrong. What wasn’t he doing? Tapping his fist on the scuffed console, he studied the filmy dashboard. All kinds of meters and gauges. Buttons and knobs. A silver slit seemed to glow with a neon sign. The light bulb went off over his head. That’s right. He needed a key to operate this thing. Bending over to check under the seat, he didn’t hear the driver walk up until the man pounded his fist on the window, shouting, “Hey! That’s my van!”
The man yanked the door open and made the mistake of grabbing Af by the arm. His hand blistered instantly, and his indignant shouts turned to shrieks of horror as he stumbled backwards. Af leapt from the van and clocked the hysterical man with a sharp right hook. He fell like a tree. A quick rummage through his pockets turned up the keys. Bingo. Sitting back on his heels, Af placed both hands on either side of the man’s skull and copied his memories. Patting the limp shoulder once, he jumped back into the driver’s seat and jammed the keys into the silver slot—ignition—and turned the key. The engine sputtered twice before roaring to life. Pressing down on the gas pedal, he smiled grimly as the van responded. Thanks to the man’s unshielded brain matter, Af had all the information he needed.
Leaving the alley was easy enough. He pointed the van forward and pressed on the gas. Turning the corner was not bad either. He took it a little wide, ran over a couple of trash cans and possibly a dog, but hey, he was facing the right direction on the street now. Ignoring the yelling behind him, he stomped on the gas, lurched ahead a few feet, and then stomped on the brake, screeching to a stop a hair from the bumper of the taxi stopped in front of him. After fifteen minutes of inching ahead, stopping, inching ahead, stopping, and stopping some more, he was ready to explode. The line of cars was endless. At this rate, he’d never get out of the freakin’ city!
At least Irina’s signal had stopped moving. It was getting late so the odds were good that she’d be there overnight. If he could get moving, he could catch up in a few hours.
After ten more minutes of teeth-gritting frustration, he exploded. Not literally, but definitely figuratively. Unfortunately for Raphael’s pets, some of them did, in fact, explode, literally. “MOVE, PEOPLE!”
The second he yelled the words, the windows in the van blew out and the tires melted. The van bounced along on its rims for a few more yards before giving up the ghost and sputtering to a halt. Sonofabitch! Slamming the door, he stood back to survey the damage. Damn it! Even he knew the van was dead. A crowd gathered on the sidewalk beside him, all pointing and filming the scene with cellphones. Snarling with anger, he shot them a glare that blew up their stupid ass phones. Aaaaand more screaming . . . At least this time they were running away from him.
This wasn’t happening. Rubbing his throbbing temples in frustration, he stepped back into the shadows and focused all of his thoughts on a Plan B before stalking off into the dark streets, muttering under his breath. Seth was going to die even more slowly now. He was out of patience and running out of time.
Thirty minutes later, he willed a poor sap in the train station to give him a ticket north. The final destination was Albany, but he’d simply stop the train a little before schedule and jump right off. The cars weren’t full, but there were enough people on board to get on his nerves. Making his way to an empty seat in the rear of the train, he ignored the frightened glances and whispered warnings that followed him. He was wet, dirty, and royally pissed off. They should probably keep their comments to themselves before he lost his temper completely.
As he settled into the last seat near the exit, he propped his foot against the front of the seat and leaned his head back to fill his imagination with motivational memories of his capture and torture. He wanted to be in the right mindset when he found Seth.
He’d been played that day. Expecting to meet Lucifer, he’d shown up ready to bullshit him out of the unnecessary plan to take Irina out of play. The girl’s offspring wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. In the final battle of Armageddon, that one island nation would be insignificant in the outcome, but Lucifer didn’t agree. He saw the future more clearly than Af did, so maybe he was right after all. Maybe the girl’s descendants would change the fate of the world. Af didn’t think so, though, and since it was his job to know these things, he was pretty sure he was right.
He knew Lucifer—correction, he thought he knew Lucifer—and he was usually methodical and patient. He was a long-term planner, the king of strategists, the ultimate chess master. He would listen to reason and change his mind. Af snorted in disgust. Clearly he’d miscalculated the devil’s resolve this time. Instead of showing up in person, he’d sent Seth. Did the demon show up nice and civilized? Of course not! He wasn’t there to negotiate; wasn’t sent to talk. Lucifer was in a vindictive mood. Before Af even sensed him, Seth had materialized behind him and knocked him out. When he came to, he found himself strapped to a rack in a pit in Hell.
Beaten to a pulp, his wings filthy, tangled, and powerless, he was woken up to answer questions. Questions! Questions about the location of a meaningless, inconsequential, backward-ass island nation that didn’t mean piss in the outcome of any battle let alone the great, final battle of Armageddon!
Questions that meant nothing! A nation that meant NOTHING! Torture he could deal with, but his wings were gone! GONE! When he got his hands on Seth, that demon would wish he’d never heard Af’s name. There wouldn’t be enough left of his body for anyone to identify. After he took care of the physical body, he would decimate Seth’s soul. Obliterate the essence so he couldn’t possess another human. Obliterate him so completely even the fucking memory would disappear!
The windows shattered.
On the other side of the world, Dec and Sean hauled Keil to his feet. His head lolled to one side as they grunted under his weight, but they managed to drape his arms over their shoulders and get his feet underneath him again. Walking him over to the crumbled remains of a stone wall beside a bullet-ridden yellow house, they sat him between them and looked at each other. The silence stretched.
Sean spoke first. “Any ideas, genius?”
Dec gazed at the carnage around them and shook his head. “I got nothin’. This whole scene seems familiar. I can’t shake this feeling of Déjà vu.”
“Uriel sent us here. Did he say why?”
“Nope. Sure didn’t. You know how the makers like to be mysterious, though. I asked Uriel what Keil was doing here and he gave me the typical non-answer. Said he wanted Keil to do a damage assessment and gave me the co-ords. Didn’t bother to mention the disaster area we’d be walking into.”
“We need to get back to New York.” Sean jammed his fingers through his hair and swung his eyes around the mess. “We don’t have time to wait on him. I’ll wake him up. He can nap later.”
Nap? Dec snorted at the understatement. Sure. Nap. Keil was out like a light. His face was slack with exhaustion; his surprisingly heavy body was nothing but dead weight. Dec flipped up one of his eyelids. Yep. That confirmed it. Beneath his lids, his irises were backlit with the soft illumination of his saol doing its best to recharge his batteries. In a few minutes, his whole body would be surrounded by the helpful energy, and he’d be unwakeable until he had enough juice to support himself. As if trying to prove Dec’s point, Keil slid to the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. His shaggy brown head landed in Sean’s lap.
Looking down with a twisted smile, Sean checked the pulse in his throat before saying, “Let’s get him out of here. He’s not answering questions any time soon.”
“What about these people? Why hasn’t anyone come to take care of this? Judging by the decomp, these people have been dead for days. It doesn’t make sense.”
Sean agreed with a curt, “Nope.”
From their vantage point, he could see down the hill all the way to the tiny harbor. Standing now, he left Sean to readjust Keil and picked his way around the debris to get a better look at the scene as a whole. Taking out his phone, he took pictures of everything within his line of sight and then videotaped it for a panoramic view. The mountains across the water were so familiar it was bugging the crap out of him. He knew he’d never been here before, and yet . . . He’d seen this harbor.
Just as he was about to snap another picture, his phone vibrated. He had a voicemail from Rori. It was three hours old. Crap. How’d he miss her call?
“Hey, babe. Just calling to see how the op is going. I had a great day. You know—the usual. Went out with Aisling. Did some shopping for the wedding. Found out April’s probably a demon sent to spy on me by Azrael.” She laughed dryly. “Same old. Same old. And you? How’s your mission going? Be careful and don’t worry about us. We’re fine. We can talk about this after the wedding tomorrow. Gotta run. Love you!”
Demon? Whoa! What was that about? Shit. Another thing to worry about. His damn brain was going to implode. With one finger on the call icon, he took a second to reel in his scattered thoughts. Okay. One thing at a time. Rori said she’s fine. Her voice sounded normal—as in not hysterical or in mortal danger—so he was going to take her word for it. There’s time to deal with April later. Bigger issue? He was out of time here. The wedding was tomorrow. He cut his eyes back to the unconscious Primani and mentally calculated how much time it would take to get him awake enough to stand up at the ceremony. They had to clean him up . . . Probably they’d be good to go. Cutting it close, but probably G to G. But before they took off, he needed to report this to Raphael. He didn’t feel right about just leaving the bodies to rot in the heat. It seemed disrespectful.
Raphael? There’s been a slaughter, but no civilians have shown up to take charge.
The air pressure shifted a wee bit and his maker appeared beside him. His expression was murderous even before he cast his eyes over the decomposing bodies and destruction around them. White-lipped, he shook his head in disgust and more than a little sorrow, and said in his typical cryptic way, “This is exactly as it was meant to be, Declan. There’s nothing for you and Sean to do here. The authorities have been notified; they simply haven’t arrived. In any event, this is not our op. Take Keil and get him to safety. He’s been dosed with a syringe full of tetrodotoxin. If he was human, he’d have been dead hours ago. As it is, he’s been out of his head with hallucinations. It’s going to take some time to wear off. He needs to rest and let his saol burn it out of his system. Until then, he’s not going to be of any use to you.”
What? He wanted them to just leave all of the people here? Just walk away and not look for the perps or anything? How could he mean that? This atrocity couldn’t be allowed to stand.
Dec opened his trap to question these orders, but Raphael lifted an eyebrow in warning. That gesture was so unusual that Dec simply tapped two fingers to his heart and ducked his head to acknowledge the order. “Got it. Will do.”
Raphael nodded curtly but said in a softer tone, “I appreciate your instincts to help, but this is one time you must follow without question. Now I must go. I have much to discuss with my brothers.”
Heading back to Sean, he repeated what Raphael said, adding, “What the fuck? I can’t believe this!”
Sean wasn’t any happier about it but took the orders in stride. “Dec, our fearless leader knows what he’s doing. He’s been around since the beginning of time. He’s part of the Inner Circle. If he says something is meant to be, it’s part of some complicated web of events that we can’t even begin to understand. We gotta trust our maker. He’s always led us down the right path, hasn’t he?”
He didn’t like it, but Sean was right. “I guess so, but I hate walking away.”
Sean clapped him on the shoulder, saying soberly, “I do too, man, but it’s not our call. Let’s get our boy up and out of here. The clock’s ticking.”
Draping Keil’s dead weight between them again, they traveled to his apartment in Shanghai. As soon as they rematerialized, they dragged him to his bed and dumped him on top of it. Always the healer, Dec knelt to check him for injuries. Nothing broken or bleeding. Tamping down the usual nausea, he did his best to ignore the stickier parts. The blood wasn’t Keil’s.
Sean turned back from staring out of the living room windows. “How is he?”
“He’s fine other than the toxin messing him up. I’ve got more questions than answers though. Who doped him and why? When and where are also on the top of my list. Was it that chick he’s sleeping with?” Dec shrugged and rummaged in the cabinets for a glass. Making himself at home, he made a pitcher of orange juice and downed half of it before pouring any into the glass. Checking the clock on the microwave, he started counting the hours again. They had twelve hours until the ceremony. Twelve hours before he and Rori would finally be married. He’d wanted this from almost the moment he met her. When she blinked into his eyes with new life shining in hers, he knew she was the one. She was everything. Leaning back with a tired sigh, he closed his eyes to bring her face to mind.
“If you cry, I’m taking your man card. Seriously.”
“Shut up, man. You’ll be doing the same thing when you and Aisling do this.”
Sean grinned and poured a glass of juice. Raising it, he said, “Amen, brother. To the women who finally caught us.”
He clinked his glass with Sean’s and added, “May they have unlimited patience to put up with our dumb asses.”
“What are you doing in my apartment?”
Listing heavily to the right, Keil staggered into the kitchen. Clutching at the edge of the counter, he teetered back and forth for a few seconds before sliding gracefully to the floor. With his back against the cabinet and a confused frown on his face, he squinted at them before his mouth twisted into a lazy grin. “Good. You’re here.”
“Dude. You need to go back to bed. You’re thrashed.”
Half-heartedly waving a hand in dismissal, he protested even as his lids eased shut. “Nah, I’m good. It’s all good. Just gimme a minute.” A half second later, his lids snapped open and he demanded in a choked whisper, “Do you see them? The colors . . .”
Shooting Dec a WTF glance, Sean squatted to peel one of Keil’s eyelids back to reveal smoky blue irises. “Your pupils are blown.” Patting his cheek hard enough to bounce his head into the door, he said sharply, “Keil! Buddy, wake the fuck up!” To Dec, he said, “He’s high as shit.”
“Raphael said he’d been dosed with that toxin. Looks more like someone tried to kill him.”
Lifting the other eyelid and frowning again, Sean replied, “Blowfish liver isn’t supposed to be eaten. I’m pretty damn sure it’s not good as an injectable either. Who the fuck would trank Keil? He’s not a bad guy.”
Shit. They absolutely did not have time for more drama today. They had to get back to New York ASAP. He promised Rori he’d help with things. This was the last thing he expected to be doing the day before his wedding. Oh, snap! The tuxes!
“What time is it in New York?”
Sean glanced up like he’d asked him to take off his clothes. “What? How the hell would I know?”
“I have to get back to the city and like now. I’m supposed to get the tuxes. You’re supposed to have the music ready. Do you have the CD done?”
Sitting up straight, Sean’s mouth dropped open and he groaned. “Crap. No, I forgot. Rori’s going to murder me, isn’t she?”
“Normally, I’d say she’ll understand, but she’s been, mmmm, stressing over this wedding. And with Af’s toxic energy lingering, she’s been cranky. I’m not sure how understanding she’ll be.” Gesturing at the unconscious father of the bride, he said, “We’re out of time here. Juice him with your saol. Get him awake and moving. I’ll meet you both in room 1503 in a couple of hours. That’ll give me time to get the tuxes and you can travel home to burn that CD. Keep knucklehead with you. We’ll deal with his crazy, possibly homicidal girlfriend and her thug family later. They’re not coming to New York to find him.”
“Good plan. Get moving. I’ll see you in a few.”