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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.
Chapter 3
Cassandra stumbled away from the demon in the doorway, her thighs colliding with the couch. The thing gleamed like a polished black sports car—wearing armor. Its red eyes were the only part with color.
She made the obvious guess. “Sinistari?”
With a confirming nod, it said in a sepulchral voice, “I’ve come for the Fallen.”
She gestured with a shaky hand toward Sam, trapped in the center of the room. As if the demon couldn’t plainly see him.
Smarten up, Cassandra. It’s happening. Deal with it.
The demon stalked into the room, each footstep clanking metallic on the cement. The exposed flesh on its face, neck and hands appeared hematite, yet moved like muscle. Ebony horns curled at the side of its head, and it wore black armor over legs, arms and torso.
It was beautiful, and she wanted to touch it, to connect with the impossible—but she wasn’t stupid.
If she could inch toward the door …
“Release the wards,” the demon commanded.
