Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  “Did you really think you could take her from me?” asked the archdemon belligerently, his voice cruel and sour and scary as hell.

  “I did.” No point in lying when you were about to die. “I thought she’d wake up from your stupid curse. I thought her love for Danto would be enough.” And I was wrong. I looked at Layla. She was staring at Danto with a proud smile on her face, like a job well done. Creepy.

  Lucian’s expression became a snarl. “I think you’ve misjudged your strength and talents, Hunter,” he said, his voice iron hard.

  I cocked a brow. “It happens, you red-eyed bastard.”

  “Good one,” commented Tyrius, his mouth in a grimace that looked like he was about to say something stupid as well.

  The archdemon watched me with an unexpected intensity. He looked dangerous standing next to Layla with his eyes glowing as the promise of violence drifted over him.

  I felt myself pale. Yes, that was a stupid thing to say, but I was mad and my temper got the better of me. So sue me.

  Lucian looked proudly at Layla. “This could have been you,” he said, turning his eyes back to me. “But you refused to accept it. You didn’t want it when it could have made you the strongest of your kind. You could have wielded the power of a hundred angels. But you rejected it.”

  I screwed up my face, showing no fear, only distaste and hatred. “I still don’t want it, jackass. And I regret ever accepting it in the first place.” I narrowed my eyes. “I want nothing to do with you, ever.”

  “That can be arranged.” Lucian’s brows rose in question.

  Snarling like an animal, eager to do some personal damage, I yanked out my soul blade, aiming for one of his red eyes. I didn’t care which one, as long as I hit one.

  Searing pain exploded in my hand. Crying out, I dropped my soul blade, my palm red and marred with ugly blisters. I looked down at my blade, its hilt red-hot like it was on fire. And then with a pop, it burst into silver ashes.

  I looked up through a curtain of my bangs at the archdemon, raw hatred rippling in me, and I shook.

  “That was unfortunate,” he said, mocking me.

  “You son of a bitch,” I growled. “You know how hard it is to come by one of these blades?”

  Lucian smiled. “You chose the wrong side, Rowyn.”

  I shook my head. “No. I know which side I’m on,” I challenged, my voice a bit high-pitched.

  He focused on me. “Pity. You could have lived.”

  My heart pounded, and every thought of fighting vanished. Power. He had it. He was it. He had no morals. He had no soul. He was content with what he was, confident that none could stop him. Maybe he was right.

  Subconsciously, I reached out and grabbed Tyrius, pulling him onto my lap and covering him with my body.

  Seeing this, Lucian’s smile showed more teeth. His grin shifted as he recognized my fear, the slight movement of his body an invitation for pain.

  Heart pounding in my throat, I pulled Tyrius closer. Fear clenched my chest. This was it. We were toast. We were going to die. He was going to have Layla barbecue us, or maybe he was going to do it himself.

  My eyes found Layla’s, but she was staring at Lucian, admiration painted her features.

  “No matter,” said Lucian a brief flash of teeth as he flicked the butt of his cigarette. “It won’t be long now. Everything is about to change. And whether you like it or not, you are part of this change. You helped make it happen.”

  I held my breath, squeezing Tyrius into my chest harder. “Close your eyes, Tyrius,” I breathed, hot tears streaming down my face. My heart pounded so hard in my ears I could barely hear myself think as I prayed Lucian wouldn’t send me to the Netherworld as his slave.

  I closed my eyes, braced myself, and waited to die.

  A low sound lifted through the air, and the stink of demon energies assaulted me, hard and fast. Then a boom shifted the air in the room. But nothing had hit us…

  I peeled open my right eye. Then my left.

  Lucian and Layla were covered in a shifting black haze. And with a pop of air, the haze shimmered and they disappeared.

  I didn’t have time to think about why they let us live. Heart pounding, I dropped Tyrius onto the floor and scrambled to reach Danto.

  “Danto? Danto, wake up?” I ordered, fear cascading down on me in icy waves. “Danto!” I cried, shaking him. Again and again.

  But the vampire wouldn’t wake.

  7

  “ P lease, you have to help him,” I pleaded, my panic stirring and settling in a familiar place deep in my soul. “Please. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  The dark witch Evanora Crow stared at me. Her one milky eye rolled around in its socket as though trying to focus on me. Her warped body bent forward, supporting her weight on a cane—the one I’d seen Lisbeth with until Evanora took it back. Long strands of delicately thin white hair went past her shoulders. Her pale scalp peeked through in spots that weren’t there before. She was an ugly ancient witch, yet somehow, she seemed older and even a little weaker since I’d seen her last, right before she killed Lisbeth. The poison, I realized. It hadn’t killed her, but the old witch had taken a beating from it.

  Evanora frowned, and she looked at me as if only now seeing my blistered skin and bruises. “Evanora does not have to do anything,” answered the witch after a moment. “Evanora might change her mind and curse you for breaking into her shop.”

  “We didn’t break in,” I said, exasperated, though shocked that she actually didn’t curse our asses. “We barged in. Big difference.”

  Tyrius cleared his throat. “Uh, we might have broken a few things when we barged in, though, but that’s another story.”

  The witch’s eyes were lost in the folds of her skin as her frown deepened. “You broke in,” she countered. “Evanora did not invite you.”

  “Fine,” I let out a shaky breath. “Whatever you say. We broke in.” Who would even want to? The place had a thick, metallic odor of blood mixed with the faint stench of rot and an underlying scent of death—sharp and discomforting, like the smell of the city sewers. Magicking cadavers, Evanora?

  My gaze fell to the vampire lying on the floor of the small room in the back of her shop where Evanora practiced and taught her dark magic. His chest rose and fell in rhythm, the only indication that he was still alive. But barely.

  I couldn’t stop shaking. I was terrified I was already too late, terrified I had made a critical mistake, and terrified more innocents were about to face death because of me. My mixed blood was the culprit.

  But I would make things right. I swore it.

  My pulse was fast and rising still, and I felt my anxiety pulling me stiff. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give you gallons of my blood,” I said, moving forward and shoving my wrist in her face. “Take it. Please. Just help him.” I hated that my voice cracked, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t let Danto die. Not on my watch.

  Before leaving the loft, Tyrius had Hulked-out and together we’d managed to haul the unconscious vampire to his car on the black panther’s back. And after I found his keys in his pockets, we drove here, to Mystic Quarter, to Evanora’s shop. I’d thought of calling Gareth, but there wasn’t enough time. The witch’s place was closer. Not to mention, he still hadn’t returned my calls.

  Without Gareth around, Evanora was my second choice as a healer. Well, technically she wasn’t a healer, but I was willing to bet my life she knew hundreds of healing spells by heart. She had to learn them to heal herself whenever she borrowed magic from demons. Each time the demons took something from her in return—some life-force, blood, memories, a piece of her soul, limbs, even an eye. It was the price she paid for dark magic.

  “Are you going to help us, witch?” growled Tyrius, his eyes gleaming with barely controlled hatred for the dark witch. Obviously, the kitty was still harboring some dark feelings towards the one who’d put a collar on him.

  My gut unclenched as it grew quiet, the sound of D
anto’s ragged breath barely audible over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I was desperate and angry. Desperate enough to walk over to that table against the far wall where I’d seen a grimoire lying open in an invitation to take it and try out a few healing spells on my own.

  Evanora followed my gaze and made a disapproving sound in her throat. I stiffened, and for a moment, I thought she was going to curse me. But then, slowly the witch moved past me, staggering to the center of her shop. I grimaced at the smell of vinegar and unwashed body. Damn the witch was vile. But I was willing to take on buckets of her disgusting, filthy stinking smell if she could save my friend. Her shapeless earth-colored gown dragged behind her as she shuffled forward, her cane thumping loudly on the wood floor as she came to a stop over the vampire. She gazed down at him. Then, grunting with great effort, she lowered herself next to Danto, her knees popping like the crackling of a fire.

  At a loss for to what to do, I moved to stand next to the witch, Tyrius right behind me.

  “Who did this?” asked the witch as she bent over the vampire, her one good eye inches from his face as she continued to inspect him. Her lips nearly brushed his face. He would not have appreciated that if he was conscious.

  “You’ve got your fairytales screwed up, witch. This isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” mocked the cat. “I don’t think he’ll wake up from your kiss. I think that might actually kill him.”

  “Tyrius. Please.” I glared at the cat. “That’s not helping.”

  “Neither is being that close to a dark witch,” he grumbled. “That has to be toxic.”

  Ignoring the cat, I turned to the witch and sighed. “Remember that archdemon gift you tried to help me get rid of? Well, the bastard who gave it to me took it back and gave it to someone else.”

  “Layla,” interjected Tyrius, loudly. “He gave it to Layla. Remember her? She’s one of your test-tube babies.”

  Evanora’s face took on a severe cast. Her attention moved to Tyrius, and I didn’t like the way she was looking at him. Maybe it was because her lips were moving in a possibly soundless curse. “Evanora has a new student in need of a familiar. Maybe Evanora will give her you .”

  Tyrius leaped in the air and hissed. “Like hell you will. Rowyn. Did you hear that? Do something.”

  “Just leave it alone, Tyrius.” I was going to kick the cat if he didn’t shut up. “The archdemon gave his gift of power to Layla,” I told the witch. “And,” I took a deep breath, “she did this to the vampire with it.”

  Whereas I had tried to keep the darkness at bay, never surrendering to it, Layla had done the exact opposite. She’d accepted it. All of it. She’d succumbed to the darkness, to its seductive power. She was already becoming something else. She was changing.

  Worry tightened my chest, and my gaze went to Tyrius, his tail flicking behind him with a frown on his face. This had to work. It had to.

  The witch turned her attention back to Danto. Evanora’s lips were still moving, and I could hear a faint mumbling from her. Fingers gnarled with severe arthritis shook as she reached out and put them on the vampire’s forehead.

  “He should not have survived,” said the witch, her tone curious. And then she peeled off a flake of his burned skin and brought it closer to her face, examining it. I nearly vomited when she popped it into her mouth.

  “Great, the dark witch is a freaking cannibal,” exclaimed Tyrius, looking like he was about to blow chunks of his own. “She stinks. And she pops flesh into her mouth like it was a bag of Doritos. Can she get anymore disgusting?”

  “Hmmm. There is light where there should not be,” said the witch, confusing me all the more.

  “What?”

  I watched horrified as Evanora reached out and took another piece of burned skin from Danto’s face before I could protest. With a Herculean effort, she pushed herself up with the help of her cane and waddled over to the table with the grimoire, the piece of Danto’s skin still clutched in her gnarled fingers.

  Curious, I followed her. Six candles were lit across the table with puddles of wax spattered like blood, and in the middle lay the grimoire. But she wasn’t turning to the old book. Instead, she stood above one of the burning candles and dropped the piece of skin into the flames.

  “Invoco tenebrarum. Essentia revelare in sanguine huius,” she chanted. I recognized the Latin, though I had no idea what she was saying.

  At first, nothing happened as we clustered around the flame, breathing in the scent of burning candles. I felt kinda weird standing so close to the witch without trying to strangle her or something. When she pulled back, I released the breath I was holding. Trust me, if you were me, you’d hold your breath too.

  Tyrius made a burst of frustrated noise and climbed upon a chair for a better view. “This is just great,” he snickered. “How about we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya.”

  “Hush, Tyrius,” I snapped.

  “Nothing’s happening,” echoed the cat. “Giant waste of time.”

  But then something did happen. The yellow-orange flame turned white.

  Tyrius cursed. “Demon balls. Now that’s not something you see every day.”

  Very true. And also very cool. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to magic. Excitement pounded through me to match my rising blood pressure. “What does that mean? White is good, right? Black would be bad?” I had no idea what I was saying.

  Evanora’s white eye settled on me, totally freaking me out. “Has the vampire tasted the blood of angels?”

  My lips parted. “What?” Oh. Shit. Yes of course he did. But not an angel. My blood. It was my blood. The memory of Danto drinking my blood after he was attacked by the fae queen’s Dark Arrows came flooding back. He was dying, and I had given him my blood.

  “No, but he drank some of Rowyn’s,” answered the cat for me. “You think that’s why the flame turned white?”

  Evanora hadn’t stopped looking at me. “Yes. You have angel essence in your blood. It is why the flame burned white, the light of the angels.”

  “So what does that mean?” I asked, a sense of relief creeping up on me. Maybe he’d heal in a few days? Thank the souls. My blood had saved him, and now it was saving him again.

  “It means,” said the witch, her eyes narrowing at the hopeful tone in my voice, “that your blood saved him from instant death when he was touched by the curse. But it will not heal him. He will die.”

  I whirled on her. “What?” My voice rose dangerously, and I reached out and grabbed the edges of the table before I did something really stupid, like punch the witch. “But… can’t you heal him? You must have hundreds of healing spells in that grimoire.” Panic was making my throat tight. “Please. I’ll give you anything you want. I swear it. Just help him. Please.”

  The witch looked at me and said, “This is beyond Evanora’s healing abilities.”

  I bit my lip, listening to my pulse in my ears and feeling all hope for Danto evaporating. I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I felt sick. My face twisted, and I forced the bitter emotion away.

  Tyrius hung his head, looking lost for words and making me feel worse.

  “You need the elf’s magic,” said Evanora suddenly, making me start.

  My stomach did a somersault. “Gareth? You believe he can save him?” My voice quivered as I strained to keep my composure.

  The witch nodded her head, flakes of white dandruff falling to her shoulders. “You must find the elf if you want to save the vampire.”

  My heart jackhammering, I sent my gaze to Tyrius, my hope matched by a huge grin on the cat’s face.

  “Calling him now.” I yanked out my phone and dialed Gareth’s number. “Damn it,” I cursed, finding myself sweating as I leaned on the table for support. “He’s still not picking up.”

  “Try again,” encouraged Tyrius, shifting around on the chair. “Does he have a different number for the store?”

  “Yes.” I tried that one too, but it just rang. “Nothing. He’s not picking up there eit
her. Where the hell is he?” My heart was thudding, and I backed up, sharing a terrified look with Tyrius.

  The cat let out an exasperated breath. “Then there’s only one thing left to do. We need to find that elf and bring his ass here.”

  I turned my attention to Danto. “What about him?”

  “You can leave him here,” said the witch, surprising me. “Evanora will look after him.”

  Why was she being so nice? Oh, yeah. I had offered her buckets of my blood. That was like gold to this old witch. I would give it her, like I said I would, but only when I got back with an elf.

  Strangely enough, I believed her. I trusted the old witch when she said she would look after my friend while I was gone.

  “You must hurry if you want to save your friend,” said the old witch. “The vampire’s aura is very thin. Death is near. Your blood will keep him alive, but not for long.”

  My eyes fell back on the vampire and I felt myself tense. “How long?”

  “Maybe a day,” answered the witch. “Maybe less.”

  I swallowed hard. “Then we’ve already wasted too much time.” A pulse of adrenaline lit through me. “Let’s go.”

  8

  Tyrius made a noise in his throat. “I’m glad we’re going to see the elf,” muttered the cat. “Gareth will talk some sense into you about the grimoire. Oh, and by the way. Kudos for not trying to steal it while the old witch was trying to save your friend’s ass.”

  I pursed my lips. “He can talk… but it doesn’t mean I’m going to listen.”

  Tyrius glared at me. I knew my furry friend was only worried for me. Okay, so we’d lost Layla to Lucian, but it didn’t mean I should roll over and die. I could still stop whatever he was planning. But not alone. And not without the help of the angels.

  And if that meant summoning another angel, then so be it. I was going to make the Legion listen to me, no matter what. But first, we needed to save Danto.

  I glanced at my phone on the seat. “I just wish he would answer his phone so we didn’t have to drive all the way there and waste precious time.”

  “His phone’s not glued to his hip like a lot of mortals these days,” mewed the cat. “Some of them can’t even take a piss without taking their phones with them.” He gave a shake of his head. “I’ll never understand mortals.”