Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  I realized at that moment staring at the sigil on my neck would never get boring. The archangel Raphael hadn’t booted my ass to the Netherworld. No, she’d given me my life back and something I’d always wanted—though I’d never admit it—an archangel sigil, just like the other angel-borns.

  Okay, Layla and I were still different with our archdemon essence and all that, but that’s what made us unique and stronger than the average angel-born. We were both—the shadow and the light.

  I expanded my lungs and took a giant gulp of air. Could air taste good? Because right now, it did. I’d never underestimate breathing again. Breathing was awesome.

  Two weeks had passed since I blew up the Holy Grail and killed Lucian’s plans. True, it wasn’t exactly what the Legion had ordered, but I still got the job done. Yay for me.

  Whenever I thought about the fury that had twisted Lucian’s face after I tossed the cup into the Hellmouth, it brought a smile to my lips. The bastard got what he deserved. And with my new, pretty sigil, he could never hurt me. Yay for me again.

  Although we’d lost Jenna, Lance had survived the Hellmouth’s wave of demons. I hadn’t seen him, but from what I understood from the archangel Raphael, he was probably back in Horizon working on another assignment.

  Jenna had been a true Legion soldier through and through. And though she wasn’t my favorite angel in the celestial world, it was still a shame she had died. I knew she truly believed threatening to kill me had been the right thing to do. She’d done it for the greater good. She was a soldier following orders. Just like when she’d stabbed me, her actions had had a purpose.

  Jenna had followed all the rules. She was the exact opposite of me.

  My time as an angel had only lasted a few hours. And yet, I had learned a multitude of valuable information about them. It had been mind-blowing. Literally. To the point I would never think of angels the same way ever again. I’d been one, so I really couldn’t.

  All in all, apart from a few losses and the destruction of the Holy Grail, it was about the best outcome to the entire situation I could hope for.

  “Rowyn! Come quick!” I heard Layla’s voice through my grandmother’s bathroom door. “You’ve got to see this! Hurry!”

  With a last look in the mirror, I pulled open the bathroom door expecting to see Layla, but all I saw was an empty foyer and hallway. No one was there.

  “Layla?” The smell of cooking wafted from the kitchen down the hall and my stomach rumbled. God, I was starving. I could hear a hiss of something cooking in the background with the soft clink of glasses and the murmur of singing. Grandma was cooking up a storm again. I was so spoiled.

  “Upstairs!” Layla called back.

  “What’s upstairs?” I yelled out to her, the kitchen calling out to me with all its delicious smells. The scent of chili reached me. Gran was making her famous veggie chili. Yum. Was that garlic bread I smelled?

  “What are you doing? Come upstairs!” shrilled Layla after a moment. Clearly, the woman was losing her mind over something.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Curious, I climbed the stairs to the second floor, the stairs creaking under my weight and the carpet soft under my bare feet as I followed the voices.

  “You know I hate surprises,” I shouted, though I wasn’t sure she did. “My birthday’s not for another two weeks.”

  “Just shut up and get here already,” exclaimed Layla.

  “What’s going on?” The voices were coming from the smaller spare bedroom opposite the bedroom Gran kept for me whenever I crashed. I pushed the door open and peeked inside.

  Clustered around something in the far corner of the bedroom were Gareth, Danto, and Layla.

  “Guys? What’s going on?” I asked as I entered the room.

  “Come look!” came Layla’s excited voice with matching smile.

  Now, I really had to see what was going on. I hadn’t seen her this excited since she took the head off her first ghoul. I was so proud of her.

  I crossed the room. Seeing me, Gareth moved over to give me a better view of what they were all staring at—and my breath caught.

  Kora was lying in a cardboard box on a soft pink blanket. And there, cuddled against her, were four white kittens.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Their fur was snow-white, perfect, just like their mother’s. Their eyes were open, and I could make out two with yellow eyes and two with blue eyes, far too intelligent for any animal. Because they weren’t. They were baby baal demons.

  Perfect tiny white furballs, soft and cuddly. They were the most precious kittens I’d ever seen. Now this was my idea of heaven.

  Kora lounged on her side, her face calm and poised and proud. I could hear her purring loudly. She looked even more beautiful now as a mother.

  Tyrius sat next to the box with the whites of his eyes showing, his fur bristled around him and a weird, distant smile plastered on his face—something I’d never seen before.

  Grinning, I bent down and ruffled the cat’s head. “You’ve been a very busy kitty.”

  Tyrius’s eyes focused on me. “Rowyn. I’m… I’m a father .” And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he keeled over and landed on the wood floor with a thump.

  Gareth was the first to laugh. Hell, I joined in and laughed harder. Tyrius had no idea what he was in for.

  Still kneeling, I had a better view of the little newborns. I wrapped my hands around my middle, straining to keep them there and not reach out to grab a kitten. Because that’s really what I wanted to do, and it was damn hard resisting their cuteness.

  Though one sharp look from Kora’s yellow eyes sobered me right up. I knew touching her newborn babies without permission was a very big no-no. Perhaps later, when they’d grown a little.

  And from Layla’s nervous hand twitching, I knew she wanted to grab one too, and was trying really, really hard not to.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” called my grandmother’s voice from downstairs.

  I heard the door open and close, followed by the murmurs of a happy greeting.

  “Rowyn.” My grandmother’s voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs. “Father Thomas is here to see you.”

  I stood up and gave Gareth wide eyes. “My rent.” Shit. I’d forgotten to pay the priest. Now that was a first-class ticket on the Netherworld train.

  I ran down the stairs two at a time. The priest looked up, his face transforming into a pleasant smile. He looked just as handsome and sexy as ever in his clerical black outfit, his thick black hair brushed just above his eyes.

  “I know. I know. I forgot the rent,” I expressed as I crossed the hall to the front door. “I don’t have it on me. But I’ll write you a check as soon as I get home. Promise.”

  The priest shook his head. “Never mind about that. Here. I’ve been asked to deliver this to you,” said the priest as he handed me a large white envelope.

  “Who’s it from?” I asked as I tore it open.

  “The angel-born Council,” said the priest, smiling. “I was just over there and they asked me if I’d bring it to you.”

  I stopped in mid-tear and looked at him, my heart pounding. “You know what this is. Don’t you?”

  The priest raised his brows. “Just read it.”

  “Read what?” Layla appeared next to me, her head practically resting on my shoulder.

  I pulled out two letters. One was addressed to me, the other to Layla. “This one’s for you,” I said, giving her the letter as I began reading mine:

  Dear Ms. Sinclair,

  We have been informed of your recent involvement with the destruction of the Hellmouth in additional to the prompt removal of the archdemon Lucian. The Council is very impressed with your work.

  After careful review and consideration, skills such as yours would be instrumental in our Operative team. On behalf of the Council, and with the Legion’s blessing, we are happy to inform you, should you choos
e to accept, we are offering you the post of Operative in our team of angel-born.

  We are looking forward to hearing from you.

  Sincerely yours,

  Valerie Martel, Head of Uriel, G.M.

  Hallow Hall, Westchester County, NY

  “What does it say?” Gareth snatched the paper from my hands.

  “The angel-born Council is offering me a job,” I said, mystified. “A post. With a real salary.” No more scavenging for closet demons or ghouls to pay the rent. I’d have a regular income. A regular job, which meant I could even buy a house one day.

  “Me too,” expressed Layla, her eyes wide, and she beamed at Danto who appeared next to her. The vampire looked handsomer than any man had a right to be, with his tight body, a face chiseled to perfection and devilish grin. The two of them were so perfect, it made me sick, and then it made me smile.

  Layla let out a giggle, reached out, and pulled him into a fierce kiss, which made Father Thomas blush. Awww. How cute.

  “Are you going to accept?” asked Gareth. A knowing look crossed his features and I could tell he’d already guessed the answer.

  I thought about it for about three seconds.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “I will.”

  The Council, the angel-borns, the whole lot of them, had avoided me all these years, but I had also pushed them away. I had purposely disassociated myself because it was easier for me to deal with the rejections and the pile of emotional baggage that came with being different.

  And now they were offering me a job.

  “I’m so proud of you, Rowyn,” said my grandmother as she pulled me into a hug. I breathed in her Chanel No. 5 as she released me and said, “This calls for a celebration. Let’s bring out the champagne! I’ll get the glasses.” Beaming, my grandmother disappeared down the hall, wine dripping on the floor from her glass.

  A hand curled around mine and I turned to see a beaming, sexy elf, with those damn cute pointed ears peeking through his tousled dark brown hair. His dark eyes were alight with a promise of passion. One look in those eyes and I knew we’d be doing our own celebrating late into the night.

  “I’m happy for you.” Gareth squeezed my hand. The calluses around his hand were rough and scraped my skin, and I liked it. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

  I grinned. “I know.” I folded the letter and shoved it in my front jeans pocket.

  “Does that mean you’re going to give up being a Hunter?” Layla’s eyes were wide, and I could sense some regret there. I knew she still wanted me to teach her the ropes.

  I thought about it. “No. I think I can do both. Being an Operative is kind of like being a Hunter for the angel-born. Same thing. Different rules.” I didn’t have rules, and I was worse at following them. “They might learn a few things from me.” I looked at the priest. “I’ll always be here for the Church. No matter what.”

  Father Thomas smiled. “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Father Thomas! You’re staying for supper!” came my gran’s voice from the kitchen. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  My lips curled into a smile as I watched the young priest. “Watch out. She’s on a roll tonight.”

  The priest laughed as he took off his black polished shoes and followed Layla and Danto to the kitchen.

  Tugging me closer, Gareth stole a quick kiss. The elf’s smile was sly, and it went right to my gut and tightened. My heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second as I looked into those fine eyes. A thick stubble coated his face, jet black and sexy. His lips curved toward his eyes, transforming his face from ruggedly handsome to oooh-yay-for-me!

  “Gareth!” called my grandmother from somewhere in the kitchen. “I need you in the kitchen!”

  The elf smiled and gave me another short kiss before he disappeared down the hallway.

  A mix of excitement and happiness filled me from the undeniable fact that I was part of something special and I stood straighter. I felt complete. I had everything I’d ever wished for, and then some.

  I was a Hunter. I was an Operative. And with all the demons that had escaped from Lucian’s Hellmouth, I was going to be really busy for a while.

  I smiled. Life was good.

  DARK STRIKE

  Rowyn and Tyrius are back! And the world will never be same again..

  Don’t miss the thrilling return of the Shadow and Light series, DARK STRIKE. Coming summer 2020.

  Click here to grab your copy of DARK STRIKE!

  SPELLS & ASHES

  SPELLS & ASHES, the first book in the new series set in the same universe as the SHADOW and LIGHT series. If you loved DARK HUNT, then you’ll love SPELLS & ASHES.

  1

  The demon was fast. Damn fast.

  It had dragged me all through the streets of Upper East Side Manhattan, snaking through the backwoods of Central Park to finally arrive in Hell’s Kitchen.

  Groaning, I forced my legs to keep working, my lungs starving for air as I tried to ignore the cramp pinching at my side.

  I didn’t get paid enough for this crap.

  This would be my tenth exorcism this month. No, I’m not talking about heads spinning while spewing out fountains of pea soup. That’s Hollywood. This is real life, and demonic possession is very real.

  It happened when a demon hitched a ride inside a person’s body, making them do obscene things and act out of character, all the while sucking on their life force until they eventually dropped dead.

  There had been a sudden influx of demons the past two weeks in New York City. Rumors had it that an unusually large Rift—a tear in the Veil, the dividing line between humans and the Netherworld demons—had opened, and thousands of demons had escaped through it.

  It had been a busy month for the City of New York in terms of demon parasites, but that didn’t mean the city was free of other demons. Hell no. There were a lot of creepier crawlers and things far worse than your average body-snatching demon bastards. Still, tonight I was graced with the presence of yet another demon.

  There was no way in hell a fourteen-year-old human girl could run that fast for so long without having to stop and catch her breath. The demon inside her was running her down, pushing her body to an extreme no human could endure. It had stolen her body and now ran it like a puppet on strings, feeding on her life force. If I didn’t get to her soon, the girl’s body would collapse, and she would die, leaving the demon to consume her soul and then human-hop into another poor bastard. Typically possessions happened when humans were stupid enough to play at summoning demons in exchange for the usual crap—money, fame, sex. Still, I couldn’t let her die.

  Unlike demons or other half-breeds blessed with supernatural speed and endurance, I had to rely on my bursts of sweet adrenaline and my profound hatred for body-snatching demons to fuel my legs. I was fit, but I wasn’t an athlete. My mortal body could only endure so much, and if I didn’t banish the demon soon, I was going to drop dead of exhaustion.

  I’d been hired by the dark witch court to keep tabs on the Veil, mostly on hunting and banishing whatever demon or supernatural baddy came through. The pay wasn’t great, but it took care of the bills and helped me keep my family home, which was all I needed.

  Demons were always tampering with the Veil. They’d pierce it and manage to cross over to our world to feast on a few human souls. Days like the solstice or full moons, when the Veil was at its thinnest, resulted in a larger outpour of demons.

  That’s where I came in.

  I’d blast them back to the Netherworld. Fire usually did the trick. A couple of fireballs later, and the demons were back in their world, leaving the mortal world a little safer.

  I hated nothing more than a body-snatching demon. Okay, maybe two body-snatching demons. The fact remained; I loathed them. There was something utterly disturbing about being trapped in your own body while someone else piloted it around, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wouldn’t stand for it. I would rip that demon out of her, thr
ough her throat if I had to.

  I caught a flicker of movement across the darkened street and turned to see a shadow retreat. Julia, the girl, disappeared through a door at the bottom of a six-story apartment building on West 46 th Street. Good. I couldn’t exorcise a demon openly in the streets of New York City, not without getting my ass arrested and my face splattered all over social media.

  I took a deep breath and followed her.

  A few humans blurred past me as I ran up the street. Humans—blissfully ignorant of the paranormal dangers and horrors that surrounded them. The Veil acted like a glamour, changing the way things looked to human eyes and preventing them from seeing the paranormal world and its inhabitants. Must be nice to wake up each morning with only your bills and mortgage and kids to worry about. Not the giant-winged ugnur demon that slipped through a Rift and decided to feast on your brain because, well, that’s what they do.

  Exhaust fumes, hot pavement, and the stench of garbage displaced the night air as I ran across the street. The gathering dark rushed in to fill the spaces where the streetlights couldn’t reach. There were no lights in the windows, which was the perfect breeding grounds for demons who thrived in darkness. In turn, the darkness fed them with power. But that didn’t stop me.

  By the time I reached the apartment building, my heart wanted to explode through my chest to say hello to the concrete slab at my feet. Damn.

  You’d think by now I would have made a charm for endurance and speed. I made a mental note to look into that when I got home. A pair of super legs would have been golden right about now.

  Pinching the cramp at my side, I gulped down buckets of air, feeling slightly dizzy, and pulled open the door. I stepped into the darkened lobby and stopped to listen. The faint whisper of water running through pipes answered back. Then nothing. The dim scent of sulfur lay on the air. I smiled. My demon.

  The lobby led into an equally dark hallway—a recipe for more trouble. But I never followed recipes.

  With my heart pounding in my ears, I stepped forward, and the sound of glass crunching under my boots stopped me dead in my tracks. I looked to the side wall, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the two adjacent light fixtures, their glass bulbs shattered.