Renegade Angel

Chapter 2

“So. Our first she-demon. This one’s going to be interesting.”

Raum slouched over his beer and glared at Gadreel, whose infernally good mood was improving with each passing second. He shot a quick look at Leviathan, but the serpent was as impassive as ever. He had a sudden urge to throw a punch that would knock him out of the chair. Maybe that would elicit a reaction.

“You think anything with a vagina is interesting,” he said instead, and took a long pull of his beer.

Gadreel’s grin widened, and the sudden burst of feminine giggling from the direction of the kitchen door told Raum that the waitresses in this little sports bar had already formed their own Gadreel fan club. Disgusting. Raum frowned more deeply, and hoped it would keep any admirers away. Since his glory days, during which he’d earned his one great claim to fame of having seduced Eve into partaking of a certain forbidden fruit in the Garden, Gadreel had moved on to the seduction of every female, be it lovely and lethal she-demon or soft and yielding human, that he could get his hands on.

The show was getting old.

And like every day since he’d drawn the short straw and had to accompany Gadreel on this mission, Raum wished that just once the stupid idiot had ignored the useless piece of flesh between his legs and thought better of laying so much as a finger on Lucifer’s favorite concubine. That would have improved his own existence greatly.

But no. Another little nothing of a human town, an other homicidal half-breed demon to take out, per the orders of the white-winged powers-that-be. He’d had no idea how overrun Earth had become with such things, or how difficult it was making life for the angels who actually gave a damn about protecting humans. Too many half-breeds, not enough white wings who could devote all their time to slaughtering them. Enter the demon assassins with nothing but time on their hands. It really was the perfect solution.

Raum might have found it amusing, in a sick sort of way, had it not meant that he now got to be graced with Gadreel’s golden presence all day. Every day. Forever.

Or until one of them finally got fed up enough to go after him with a blowtorch.

Raum growled as another burst of feminine giggling erupted, turning his head to look out through the window. He now had a fine view directly into the large glass window of Lotions and Potions, even though Ember had not come into view again. He also had decent beer, though the company left a lot to be desired. For once, he wished for a few of his brethren to appear. As annoying as they were, he much preferred their company to what he’d ended up with on this mission: the underworld’s most notorious narcissist, and an unsympathetic sea monster.

Raum slumped further into his chair and glared at the bottle in front of him. He did not, as a rule, bed she-demons. He liked control, which the succubi delighted in wresting from any man brave, or foolish, enough to succumb to their many charms. But Ember Riddick had affected him … differently. He was intrigued, and not just because she was by far the most beautiful creature he’d seen in ages.

Raum didn’t want to be interested. It pissed him off. Like a lot of things these days.

“Oh, stop brooding, Raum,” Gadreel sniffed, motioning to the waitress to bring him another beer. “You’re so boring. Be happy, will you? We found the half-breed, which means all we have to do now is wait for some asshole to descend from on high to tell us to send her back where she belongs. Then I can go work with someone who appreciates my talent, and you can do … “ He trailed off for a moment, then waved his hand dismissively. “Well, you can do whatever it is you like to do. Sit in the dark. Write bad adolescent poetry. Buy more black shirts. Whatever.”

Savoring the image of slamming that pretty golden head into the nearest wall, Raum took a deliberate swig of his beer, middle finger extended. Then he looked to Leviathan, who was toying with one of the small electronic devices he himself wanted nothing to do with.

“You’re quiet,” Raum finally remarked. After punching a few more buttons, Levi raised eyes that were a pale, icy blue to look at him. His hair was as black as Raum’s own, but hung straight to the middle of his back. Today he wore it pulled back with a simple leather thong, exposing high cheekbones and elegant, angular features that drew human women like flies. Not, Raum had noticed, that Levi really seemed to care. About much of anything, actually. But he was wickedly clever, which was what truly counted. Leviathan was ancient, possibly even older than the demons themselves. He had been in the underworld long before Lucifer had claimed it for his own, that was certain. But the sea monster had been tamed by Lucifer’s hand, and had come to be a prized pet of the King of Hell. Leviathan had certainly wreaked his share of havoc on Hell’s behalf, Raum thought, considering the enigma sitting across from him. But after all these thousands of years, it seemed as though they had all made a mistake when they’d assumed that Levi felt any loyalty to what they had created … and that a monster like him must necessarily be pure evil.

In fact, since leaving Hell, Raum had come to realize that he didn’t know anything at all about Leviathan. And the serpent shifter, for his part, seemed happy to keep it that way.

“I don’t like it,” Levi said, trading the BlackBerry-thing for the glass of water he’d opted for instead of the beer. “Too many Reapers hanging around. Too many nefari skulking around in one place, for that matter. It’s not like this is anything like a big city, and this half-breed hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Yeah, I’d say killing is pretty far down on her list,” Gadreel snorted, trailing a finger absently down the waitress’s arm as he accepted his beer. Raum saw her quiver before she headed back to the bar, and knew that Gadreel, at least, would have plenty of company to distract him later. For once, Raum envied him that.

He thought again of Ember’s eyes, the way they’d turned from warm honey to hot gold when he’d touched her. She was a luscious little creature, though she was trying rather badly to hide it behind those ridiculous glasses: small but perfectly curved, and with pointed little features and a rosebud mouth that made her look like a sexy faerie. It fascinated him, that she would run a shop devoted to scent when she wore none but her own natural one. The heady combination of sweetness and spice that poured from her creamy skin had made him want to tug the band out of her wild tangle of fiery curls and plunge his hands into it, holding her still while he ran his tongue over every inch of her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

Stupid. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. She was a job, nothing more.

“Do you think the Reapers are here just because of all the extra nefari?” Raum asked, frowning. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“Don’t think so,” Levi replied with a small shake of his head. Then he indicated the window. “Look at them. It makes no sense. They’re all just waiting.”

Raum followed Levi’s gaze and watched a black-robed man, slim and pale and dark, flicker into existence across the street, walk past several shops, glance his way and vanish once more. Around him, humans walked and drove on the bustling main street, enjoying the crisp fall day. Raum wondered how complacent they’d be if they could see what he saw … if they knew their sleepy little town was now a hotbed of supernatural activity of a rather dark kind.

He wished they could. It would at least make for some entertainment.

The bell above the door rang again, but Raum didn’t bother to look. Not until Gadreel growled several colorful curse words with venom that was uncharacteristic even for him. Then Raum knew who it was, even before he heard the creak and groan of the vacant seat at the table as another, very large, body settled into it.

“Well,” said a familiar voice. “This is cozy.” Reluctantly, Raum turned his attention to the new comer. His white wings, tipped in gold, were hidden away, but everything about him still bespoke his exalted status. Light gleamed from his short, wavy cap of golden hair, from his gold-dusted skin, keeping him in a nimbus of light that even human eyes would be able to see faintly. Hard, intelligent blue eyes swept the three demons, and from the expression on the angel’s face, he didn’t much care for what he saw. As usual.

“Hello, Uriel,” said Raum, not bothering to disguise his lack of excitement. “To what do we owe the plea sure?” Levi was normally the only one who had to deal with the seraphim running the little operation they had going, and that suited everyone just fine. But every once in a while, the highest rank of angels stuck their nose in a little deeper than their demonic recruits would prefer. And because Raum’s existence had turned into one epic failure after another, it seemed like every time this happened, they sent Uriel.

“I wouldn’t think another half-breed would merit so much attention from someone of your … elevated status,” Gadreel added. “We are but your lowly exterminators. Isn’t that about right?”

Uriel shot him a look. “Shove it.”

“It’s not just the half-breed,” Levi said coolly, draw ing a surprised look from the angel and demons alike. “Maybe you should tell us what exactly is going on here, Uriel, before we go any further.”

Uriel snorted, but Raum caught the quick flash of something one rarely saw in an angel’s eyes: fear. It only validated his own suspicions about this mission. There was something very off about this place, even beyond his odd reaction to Ember Riddick.

“I’m not sure what you think you’re entitled to,” Uriel said with a hard smile.

“We’re entitled to some small amount of courtesy, considering we put our asses on the line for you on a regular basis.”

“You’re paid well for it,” Uriel replied. The light around him contracted and turned a deeper gold, a sure sign of his rising anger.

“As we should be, considering your kind has turned a blind eye to demonkind for so long that you can’t see what you need to anymore. Levi’s right,” Raum said flatly, his own temper flaring. “This place has the stench of death all over it, and it’s not coming from the woman.”

Uriel shoved a hand through his cap of golden hair, agitated. “No, we thought not.” He shook his head and gave a mirthless little laugh. “I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s so much like last time. Come on, Raum,” he said. “You were there. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” Again, that hint of bitterness in his voice. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit that day.”

The door opened and shut as the bar’s one remaining patron left, sending a gentle rush of chilled air past the table. Again, Raum caught the faintest hint of brimstone, and this time the memory rushed to the surface so quickly that he wondered at having missed the signs before. Of course he remembered. Even now in Hell, they sang songs about that glorious day.

The witch had been the key. Young, untried, with power it would take years to hone, she’d drawn the hand some lust-demon to her like a moth to the flame. She had caught him, bound him to her, loved him … while the incubus had twisted her into the most deadly weapon that humankind had yet seen.

On a cold day in November, she had stood in the center of her little English village, in the place where worlds touched, and for a few dark hours thrown open the gates of Hell.

“You’re thinking Hellhole,” Raum murmured, his mind fogged once again with the smoke that poured from the flaming thatched roofs, from the massive chasm that had opened straight down into the bowels of the earth and beyond. The air had been thick with screams of terror, the wild screeches and howls of the nefari, the shouts of Fallen and angel as the two engaged in bloody battle. Raum remembered the harsh music of clashing swords, the taunts and catcalls that had risen above the destruction as the angels had slowly fought the demon horde back into the ground.

Not soon enough, though. Not before the horseman called Plague had ridden off into the night.

“This is one of the thin places,” Uriel said softly, looking directly at him. “And I have no doubt there is an actual Nexus point here, where Hell touches Earth.”

“You think the woman is the key,” Levi said, threading long, elegant fingers together on the table. “How?”

“I wish I knew,” Uriel growled furiously, fists clench ing reflexively on the table. “I can’t seem to see their kind like I used to be able to. The half-breeds are like the rest of the Lost Ones, without hope, without Light. What reason was there for us to watch them destroy themselves? Except … now I can’t seem to see like I should … and the Balance is precarious enough as it is … “

“Oh, come on, Uriel,” Gadreel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You can whip yourself later, in private. I may be a demon, but that’s not really my thing.”

Raum just watched Uriel’s impotent fury with interest, and no small amount of trepidation. Right now, the Balance, the natural equilibrium between Light and Dark here on Earth, was the only thing standing between him and a permanent swim in a flaming river. And it was hard enough to maintain without a seven-on-one fight against the demon horde. He couldn’t really count the angels as allies, though they’d be fighting, too; he was pretty sure that most of them would be happy to use him and his fellow exiles as shields.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the side of his beer bottle and tried to focus. It fit right in with his current run of miserable luck that he’d find himself up against one of the only things he had absolutely no control over. The natural Balance on Earth was a thing that neither the Dark nor the Light truly understood. One side fought it, the other accepted it, but nothing changed the fact that there were only ever as many demons allowed to walk in the Above as there were angels. The mysterious safeguard, however, could be affected by Earth’s natural magic and the humans with the ability to wield it. Even a small fluctuation in the Balance could have big consequences … the summoning of a demon noble, for instance, which occasionally ended badly for the demon and almost always ended badly for the Summoner, as well as almost everyone within a ten-mile radius.

At least the humans themselves had weeded out the Summoner bloodline. The ability to call and enslave demons had been one of his least-favorite facets of Earth magic.

But in any case, opening a Hellhole was a hundred thousand times worse.

“Fine. If Ember Riddick is the key, then we’ll just take her out. Boom. Done. End of problem,” said Gadreel, making a slashing motion across his throat with an unrepentant smile.

Raum and Uriel spoke in unison.

“No.”

He could feel Gadreel and Levi staring at him, but there was no going back now. He thrust his chin up defiantly and glared at Uriel.

“She’s not a normal half-breed,” he said. “I don’t know why, but Ember Riddick is … different. Not violent. Not stupid. Definitely not insane.”

“She liked you,” Gadreel muttered, “so that last part’s debatable.”

“Hmm,” Uriel said, his dark eyes searching Raum’s face. His expression turned thoughtful, softening fea tures that seemed to have been chiseled from stone. Raum watched him think, dreading what he would come up with. He knew better than to underestimate the seraphim, little as he cared for their company. They weren’t the greatest of the warrior-angels for nothing.

“Let me try to understand this. You think we’re sitting on top of a Nexus point, you’re fairly sure that a local half-breed is about to blow it wide-open, and … your solution is to do nothing?” Gadreel whipped his head around to glare at Raum. “And you … she’s just a sexy little slice of evil, Raum, nothing more. I’ve had twists of tail just as enticing a thousand times over! If you’re that hard up, screw her before we send her back to Hell, but don’t be an idiot!”

“You will not touch the woman,” Uriel said, that deep golden glow beginning to pulse from him once again. “There will be no murdering of innocents, Gadreel, and this woman has hurt no one. It may be that she has enough Light in her to stand against the darkness … though I’ve never seen such a thing from her kind … but she will not be harmed by you, or our arrangement is at an end and you can damn well fend for yourself. Is that understood?”

Gadreel glared at him, seething. “Whatever you say, boss,” he finally hissed, his eyes the vibrant green of the snake within. “But don’t think I’m babysitting her.”

“Fortunately, that’s one area where we agree,” Uriel said, still pulsing with furious light, though his expression was neutral. Raum knew the tone of voice well, though. It was the one the angel used when he was trying, very hard, to refrain from shouting.

“What do you need from us?” Levi asked, and Raum saw him give Gadreel a sidelong glance that promised bloodshed if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I need the Nexus found, the exact location of the touch point. I don’t want to flood the town with my legions until we know for certain where it is, because I’m afraid that’s just going to push things along that much faster. At that point, there are certain things that can be done … “ He trailed off, looking troubled. “Well. We’ve done it before. I don’t want this place to end up like Hiraeth.”

Raum had been back once, to the location of the tiny village where Hell had broken loose, and found nothing but a patch of scorched earth where nothing would grow, where animals came to die and where men, if they lingered overlong, went mad. It was a desecrated place. Perhaps it would always be.

He looked out the window again, at the oblivious humans, and wondered whether that would happen here. And oddly, his thoughts went immediately to Ember, the sadness in her eyes right before she’d run away from him. How would she feel about causing such destruction? Would she break free of her humanity in triumph? Or would she just … break?

He felt a strange pull of something that felt almost like melancholy at the thought. Which was ridiculous. He’d sworn off feelings long ago. And why the hell did he care anyway? Maybe Gadreel was right, for once. He needed to get his head out of his ass … or his pants.

Uriel was still blathering on, puffed up, Raum thought irritably, with his own seraphic importance.

“In the meantime, I think it would be best for me to assign the woman a temporary Guardian to watch over her—”

“Fine,” Raum said, cutting him off. “I’ll do it.”

Uriel stopped short, staring at Raum as though he’d just grown another head. The look alone was worth the immediate shock to his own system. Had he actually said that? Out loud?

“I … appreciate the offer, Raum. But I was more think ing of someone who would appeal to her better nature,” Uriel said slowly.

“Won’t work,” Raum said with a shake of his head. “She’ll have to make peace with her worse nature if she wants to live. Gadreel is perfectly capable of finding the Nexus. I’ll be her Guardian.”

The seraph frowned. “I didn’t ask. Last time I checked, you were the opposite of a Guardian Angel.”

“And yet I’ll be watching over her anyway,” Raum replied, crossing his arms over his chest, fully prepared to argue … and win. “Imagine that.”

“Raum.” Uriel’s tone was warning, but Raum’s mind was made up.

“She’s mine. Deal with it.”

The words came out strangely, giving him pause. Still, he meant them, if only in the most temporary sense. He’d brought out the demon in Ember once, and easily. He’d no doubt see quickly that she really was no different from every other stinking half-breed on the planet. When she broke, which she would, he could handle whatever she threw at him until the damned cavalry arrived to save the day. He’d get over this stupid thing about the woman, she’d get shuttled off to Hell that much sooner, and best of all, Uriel would be pissed off the whole time.

It was the perfect solution.

Uriel’s jaw tightened to the point Raum thought it might crack … and wouldn’t that have been satisfying … but finally, he rose stiffly and fixed Raum with eyes that were full of warring emotions. Raum himself felt nothing but disgust. Uriel was everything that was wrong with the angels, letting his heart rule alongside his mind, placing some misguided idea of right and wrong above cold logic. He had grown past him.

Then how do you explain what you’re doing right now?

The whisper in his mind was soft, insidious, the shadow of the demon who had been celebrated as the Destroyer of Dignities before being brought low. The demon, he thought with a furious sort of determination, he still was. Still, the voice made his blood run cold.

Uriel’s eyes narrowed, but he turned to Levi. “Let me know,” was all he said. Then he was gone, slamming out of the bar with such force that the door frame cracked.

They sat in silence, the three of them, the faint sound of music from the jukebox the only sound in the nearly empty bar. Finally, Gadreel broke the silence.

“Well,” he said with a humorless flash of his teeth. “That was fun. Now if you’ll excuse me, before I dash off to find the Nexus and save the world, I believe there are several deadly sins that require my immediate attention.”

He stood, pushed in his chair and strode off in the direction of the waitresses, who were still huddled by the kitchen door and watching him hungrily.

Raum watched him go, forcing himself to relax his grip on the bottle before it shattered in his hand. He felt Leviathan’s eyes on him, but ignored that searching stare. He wasn’t in the mood. He hated talking, and he hated company. And he particularly hated Gadreel.

His gaze drifted back to the little shop across the street, and just for an instant, his eyes met Ember’s. There was a hot rush of awareness, like being caught in a sudden blast of desert wind, and the hair on his arms, the back of his neck, rose at the electricity that seemed to snap through the air between them.

He watched her flush and turn away, retreating farther into the store where he couldn’t see her. All he was left with was a toxic combination of fury at his want of her and utterly reckless, overwhelming desire.