Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  A long gleaming wooden bar stood on the far left of the pub, fitted with barstools, and on each stool sat a half-breed. The windows were smeared with a thick film of black paint, blocking out most of the light from the streetlamps. The only illumination came from the fixtures on the ceiling that spilled a feeble green glow.

  I wasn’t surprised to see that the pub’s waitresses were witches, even the ones working behind the bar, and they were all female. I recognized the scent of earth, pine and vinegar as I moved past them.

  This was a witch pub, and unlike the other pubs, the witches didn’t need iron cuffs to dull the demon magic and energies, keeping grumpy witches and other half-breed from dueling in spells and incantations. No, here, they’d just magic your ass out.

  The chatter of half-breeds in the pub changed when they caught sight of me, and I didn’t make any eye contact as I worked my way deeper into the pub. The barmaid’s ebony-colored skin was a sharp contrast to her green metallic bustier as her long, elegant arms slung drinks along the bar. She worked with an amazing efficiency—probably helped along by a little magic, no doubt.

  Seeing one of the booths along the darkened windows empty, I made for it. Tyrius leapt off my shoulder and landed with a soft pad on the table. I let myself fall on the orange, faux-leather seat and stretched out my legs.

  I’d barely had time to pick up a menu, which was in the shape of a cauldron, when a witch bumped her hip on the corner of our table.

  “What’ll it be?” she asked, her dark eyes staring at me intensely. She was short and plump with a mane of glistening black hair that reached her waist, which almost had me drooling. She looked about fifty and smelled of witch, but I couldn’t easily tell whether she was a white witch or a dark one with so many different smells conflicting my senses in this place. The casual flick of her gaze to the soul blades on my hips told me she knew who I was, but she didn’t move, her gaze expectant and professional. She was treating me like… a real customer.

  I liked her immediately.

  Tyrius padded over to the edge of the table and looked up at the witch, his tail swishing behind him like a happy puppy. “What’s tonight’s special?”

  Her eyes widened at the sight of Tyrius, but her casual smile told me she was used to baal demons. “Toad noodle soup as a starter. With a serving of blood pudding.”

  Tyrius screwed up his face, the disappointment clear as rain. “You have any chicken wings?” he asked with such eagerness that the waitress’ lips parted in a little “o.”

  “No,” she said, “but our barbecue frog legs are really popular. Taste just like real chicken.”

  Tyrius’s ears perked up and he beamed. “Then I’ll have two plates, thank you.”

  The witch turned to me. “And you? What’ll you have.”

  “You have regular fries?” I asked and the witch nodded. “I’ll have some fries and a pint of whatever beer you have on tap.”

  “Moonshine, Witch’s Brew or Black Cauldron?”

  “Witch’s Brew,” I answered, thinking it was the only one that sounded remotely like a normal beer.

  Our witch waitress turned and wandered back towards the kitchen, just as my stomach growled.

  “Damn, woman,” said Tyrius and he laughed. “You got an alien baby in there I don’t know about?”

  I laughed. “Dumb ass. You should talk. Frog legs? Really? They could be rat legs for all you know.” I smiled, leaning forward and added, “Or cat legs—”

  “Rowyn!”

  I turned to see Layla and Danto approaching our booth. Layla, her lean and voluptuous body clad in a red leather outfit, sashayed her way over, looking dangerous and sexy. She was grinning, her eyes gleaming with a wild excitement. Danto, in his polished refinement, looked exactly as he always did—like the all the Goddesses in the world got together and molded him to their idea of perfection. He looked dignified and elegant in his black pants, matching shirt and glossy black shoes. He was a damn fine vampire, and he ruined it for all the other male species.

  “I didn’t know you guys would be here,” said Layla as she scooted herself in the seat opposite me, Danto sliding in next to her.

  “We didn’t either,” expressed Tyrius, his eyes towards the bar as he licked his lips.

  I gave Layla a warm smile. “We were thirsty.”

  “And hungry,” offered the cat.

  “We were just on our way out, but I’m glad we ran into to you,” said the pretty Unmarked. Her eyes widened. “What happened with the angel-borns? Did you speak to the angels? I can’t believe you can speak to a real angel. It’s crazy.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice, “What did they say about… about you know… the one with the red eyes?”

  My sudden small bubble of elation burst. “I didn’t speak to them.”

  A frown creased Layla’s delicate forehead. “Why not?” She pushed back into her seat, fumbling with a napkin. “Don’t tell me they refused to hear you. Because if that’s the case, I’m going to make them listen.”

  “Oh, they heard her all right.” Tyrius laughed bitterly. He pulled his gaze from the bar to look at Layla. “And the idiots just gave her a number.”

  Layla’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “It’s true,” I said, feeling heat rise from my neck to my face as the anger over my current troubles came crashing back. “They gave me a number. And when my number’s up, they’ll convene and decide whether or not to help me.”

  My gaze flicked to Danto. The vampire was leaning back into his seat, avoiding everyone’s eyes. He hadn’t said a word yet. But Layla thought about it, her expression irate and her fingers finally leaving her napkin.

  “What do we do if they don’t help us?” she asked, a thread of her eagerness to cause trouble coloring her voice. “How are we going to protect ourselves when he comes back?”

  I shifted in my seat. Lucian was coming for us. And when he did, we’d have nothing to protect ourselves. Damn. This was really not my day.

  My eyes fell on Danto again. It wasn’t like him not to ask questions and get involved, or speak for that matter. He’d certainly been very interested in my going to see the angel-born when I’d told him about it. Now he looked gloomier than usual, which was something I hadn’t seen since he and Layla had hooked up. What was wrong with him? I recognized that silence and somber expression. They’d had a fight. Possibly just a few moments ago. Oh. Dear. Though, it did pique my curiosity.

  “Food’s here!” Tyrius said, sounding relieved as he bounced up and down on the table and then moved back to make room for his meal.

  “Two orders of barbecued frog legs, one order of fries and a pint of Witch’s Brew,” said our witch waitress, setting a plate topped with fries and a pint of very dark beer before me. She placed a very large plate heaped with finger-sized, grayish, twig-like meats before Tyrius.

  The baal demon had his head already in his plate. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said between chews. “Hey, it does taste like chicken!”

  The witch smiled, her eyes flicking to Layla and Danto. “Do you two want anything else?” Her eyes settled on Danto, but Layla answered.

  “No. We were just leaving.”

  I paid for our food and drink and watched the waitress wander back to the kitchen. For a moment, there was silence except for the cacophony of voices swirling around us as we all lost ourselves in the diversion of sitting somewhere other than in my car.

  With my hand pressed against the cold glass, I took a sip of my beer and smacked my lips. “Hmmm. This is good beer.”

  “Hmmm. This is good frog,” commented Tyrius with barbecue sauce marring his nose and whiskers. “I think I’ll bring a doggie bag for Kora.”

  The smell of my fries was heavenly. Using my fingers, I grabbed three and shoved them into my mouth. I took another larger gulp to wash them down, enjoying the thick, honey-tasting beer. I felt Danto’s eyes on me, but when I looked up, he darted them away. He shifted in his seat, inadvertently giving away his mood. Must have bee
n a really nasty fight.

  “What does Gareth think of all this?” asked Layla, and I nearly choked on my beer. “Does he have a solution?” She leaned over, her hands on the table and her eyes on me, searching my face and seeing something there. “What did he say when you told him what happened with the angel-borns?”

  “Nothing.” I took a sip of my beer again.

  “He said nothing?” Layla didn’t sound convinced.

  “I haven’t been able to reach him.” I downed a few more fries and swallowed.

  “He’s not answering his phone,” said the cat as he shoved another frog leg in his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss.

  Layla’s face was ashen, staring at me without blinking, as though she was hoping I was lying to her. “He doesn’t know?” said Layla, incredulous with her thoughts on my words.

  I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. I’ll tell him later.”

  “There might not be a later,” she said, her pretty face screwing up in anger. “You know how dangerous he is. You know what he’ll do to me. To you.”

  “I know that. You don’t have to remind me.” My voice was a little high and I gripped my pint, my pulse hammering beneath my fingers. Tyrius pushed away his empty plate, eyeing my fries. Damn that cat could eat.

  “You should call him again,” expressed Layla, clearly upset that the elf wizard wasn’t privy to the situation. “Right now. Call him. Call him now.”

  My mood vacillated wildly between anger and impatience as I took another swig of my beer to try and keep myself from saying something I’d regret later.

  I pushed my plate of fries towards the drooling cat. “I’ve already left like… twenty messages. I’m practically a stalker. He’s going to call me back. He always does. Right now, I just want to sit here and drink my beer.”

  I didn’t want to start a fight with Layla. I knew she was scared. I was scared. But her accusatory tone wasn’t exactly helping my mood.

  “Fine.” Layla slid from the booth and stood with pain reflected on her face, which only made me feel worse.

  “Layla,” I said, regretting my tone, but the young woman brushed me off.

  “Let’s leave Rowyn with her precious beer,” she said to Danto and took the vampire’s hand.

  Great. Now I felt like a complete asshole. “Layla,” I sighed. “Look. I’m sorry…”

  But she had already moved through the crowd, pulling her vampire boyfriend with her out the door.

  “Well, that went well.” Tyrius sat with his back legs stretched out before him and his round belly exposed and twice its normal size. “Don’t worry. She’ll come around.”

  “Will she?” I sighed again and took the last gulp of my beer. “I didn’t mean to snap at her. It just sort of came out.”

  “I know.”

  Guilt pinched my brows. “I’m not perfect,” I said, trying to rein in my emotions, which were always getting me into trouble.

  “Nope. You are definitely not perfect,” smiled the cat, showing off his pointy teeth. “But nothing ever is.”

  My eyes tracked the half-breeds in the pub. The noise from the crowd rose and fell as they drank and ate. A group of werewolves shouted their opinions as to who had the biggest chest muscles, and I caught a glimpse of a group of young witches taking turns turning their beer into different colors.

  I came here to escape my problems—actually, to pretend to escape them. I just wanted a few minutes to myself, yet I managed to screw that up as well with Layla pissed at me now. Coming here had been a giant mistake. I would have to find her and apologize. And then figure out a way to get our archdemon father off our asses.

  I wished Gareth were here…

  I checked my phone. No new calls. No new messages.

  “It’s getting late,” I said as I dropped my phone in my pocket. “Let’s get out of here.” I slipped out of the booth and stood, trying to shake off the sudden tightness in my chest before Tyrius noticed.

  “Can I get a lift?” asked the cat. His movements were slow and he looked sheepish, now five pounds heavier. “I don’t think I can walk.”

  Smiling, I leaned forward and Tyrius climbed up on my shoulders, settling snuggly in the crook of my neck.

  “I shouldn’t have eaten your fries,” moaned the cat. “I think I’m experiencing intestinal failure.”

  “You better not experience any failures of any kind on me,” I warned, inciting a laugh from him as I made my way through the crowd of half-breeds and out the front door.

  My boots hit the sidewalk and I pushed myself into motion. I stepped into the street and headed for my parked subbie. My pulse was fast and my breath was short as I paced across the street.

  “Rowyn!”

  I halted and turned. Danto was making his way towards me, wind ruffling his black hair and making him look like a male model in a cologne commercial. How the hell did he do that?

  Guilt hit me hard at the sight of the vampire without his girlfriend. “Layla left because of what I said?” Great, I’d probably ruined their night.

  “No sexy time for him tonight,” whispered Tyrius, though the frown on Danto’s face told me he’d heard that.

  Then Danto’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you drunk on blood or something?” accused Tyrius, garnering the vampire’s full attention and not in a good way.

  “I mean because of how I treated her,” I added quickly at the sight of the vampire’s eyes darkening. “I shouldn’t have said that. Did she say anything to you?”

  Danto splayed out his toes on the pavement. His expression was a mix of confusion and worry, his shoulders tight with tension. “Rowyn,” he said, “I haven’t seen Layla all day. I’ve been in meetings with the Gray Council since this morning. I just finished now.”

  My blood went cold as my eyes fell on the vampire’s feet. “Your shoes.”

  Danto shook his head, fear crossing his face. “I don’t wear shoes.”

  “Exactly.” Damn. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.

  “Oh shit,” exclaimed Tyrius, realizing our mistake. Our gargantuan mistake.

  Oh shit was right. Panicked I looked at the vampire. “If you’re here…” I said, my heart pounding as a sliver of ice dropped down my spine. “Then who the hell is with Layla?”

  4

  We flew down Moonlane. The vibration of wheels on the pavement rumbled through me, the speed and feel both exhilarating and frightening. We’d been driving up and down Mystic Quarter’s entire three-block district for about an hour, searching for Layla. Instead, we kept seeing the same half-breed faces every time, and none of them were the pretty brunette in her red leather outfit.

  “She’s wearing red leather for demon’s sake,” said Tyrius, standing on my lap while he stuck his head out the front passenger window like a dog. “We would have spotted her by now if she was still in the streets. She’s not here. She’s gone.”

  My heart jumped up to my throat and then settled back into its usual place. Damn it all to the Netherworld.

  I glanced at the vampire. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his body tight with strain. I saw a glimmer of fear on his face, not for himself, but for Layla.

  “He needs to chill out.” Tyrius pulled his head away from the window and turned to look up at me. “We’re either going to hit a half-breed or we’re going to crash if he doesn’t slow down. Look at him… he’s totally spazzing.” The cat’s eyes widened, brows high up on his forehead. “I’m not planning on dying tonight. Kora and I have lots of catching up to do, if you catch my meaning.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I get it, Tyrius, thanks.” I tried not to form a visual mental image of the two baals going at it like bunnies.

  The outside world blurred past us as Danto turned the car around and began another circuit around the district. I wasn’t planning on dying either, not when I had some much unfinished business. But the reckless gleam in Danto’s eyes, not his current speed, had my insides wire tight.
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  I recognized the kind of manic expression we all get just before doing something stupid. Hell, I specialized in that look.

  I reached out and put a hand on the vampire’s arm. His muscles were tight under his thin shirt. “She’s not here,” I said softly, trying not to spook or anger him any further. “You need to slow down, Danto, before we hit someone. Come on. Ease down.” I waited until he let go of some of the pressure he had on the gas before I let go of his arm.

  I settled back into my seat, my pulse thrumming a little faster, and I wondered if the vampire could hear it. “Thanks,” I said, and Tyrius mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t make out.

  The vampire took two slow breaths, his fear visible by the trembling of his fingers as he moved them around the wheel when we took the next corner. We were still going around the block again, but at least we were doing it at a marginally slower pace. I could smell the clean scent of his aftershave mixed in with his musky vampire scent and old blood.

  In the commotion and sudden panic, we’d all scrambled into Danto’s black BMW 7 series to look for Layla. I didn’t really care about leaving my old subbie behind. I only cared about getting Layla back safely.

  “You sure it’s Lucian?” asked Danto after a moment of silence. The real fear in his voice twisted my gut. “It could be that jinni Jeeves. He could be wearing a glamour.”

  “That double-crossing jinni,” hissed Tyrius, the hair on his back stiffening and giving him the impression of more bulk. “We should have killed his ass a long time ago.”

  “It’s not Jeeves,” I answered, my blood pressure rising at the thought of the lying sack of jinni scum. “I’m pretty sure Tyrius or I would have sensed him. The demon trickster has a very distinct aura.”

  “Yeah, smells like shit,” offered Tyrius.

  “And,” I said, giving Tyrius a glare before turning back to Danto, “Jeeves has no reason to be doing this. Think about it. All he cares about is money. There’s no money in glamouring around Mystic Quarter pretending to be you. Trust me. He’s somewhere trying to trick his way into fortune and glory. I’d bet my life on it.”