Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  “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 been 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 hav
e 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.

  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.”

  “You’re sure?” Danto’s gaze flicked to me for a second, and I didn’t like the hint of madness I saw in his eyes nor the sweat that beaded on his forehead. A sweaty vampire was never good unless you were in bed with him.

  I swallowed. “Positive. It’s Lucian,” I answered. I saw Danto clench his jaw because it was the only logical explanation. “We need to find her before he tricks her into taking his gift.”

  “I thought you said he can only transfer the gift to you willingly,” inquired the cat. Danto’s brows shifted, giving me the impression he was about to ask the same question.

  I glanced down at the cat. “He never said he couldn’t trick me. And he never said it had to be with the real him either. If he’s using some kind of glamour to look like Danto, she won’t know who he is until she takes the gift. And then it’ll be too late.”

  Danto’s breath hissed out. I could see the anger in his posture, but there was also fear in the depths of his soul—fear he would lose Layla to some darkness he could never defeat, and fear he couldn’t save her.

  He should be afraid. Layla with the darkness in her was a terrifying idea. Magnificent, but terrifying.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  Danto flicked his attention back to the road. He shifted in his seat, his movements sharp and stiff. He was losing it. He was usually confident and secure in his mind… if you didn’t take into account the months of brooding after he lost Cindy. He looked like hell, like he was fighting some internal battle and losing. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to my vampire friend if he lost Layla too.

  I bit my bottom lip, my mind numb with fear and guilt. Why hadn’t I sensed that the Danto at the pub wasn’t the real Danto? Why couldn’t I tell it was Lucian sitting across from me and not my vampire friend? He’d been so silent, reserved, but his eyes always calculating. I’d sensed something was off, but I couldn’t make the connection. I’d seen the new polished shoes on his feet. And like a fool, I had thought nothing of it. Rowyn, you idiot.

  Now Layla was missing.

  Despite Danto’s efforts to call her that would make any stalker proud, her phone went to voicemail each time. And each time, my fear cemented deeper in my gut until it hurt. Not Layla…

  Stomach acid bubbled up, and I swallowed it down. I felt a sudden deep hatred for the angel Legion. If only they’d agreed to help me, none of this would be happening. Layla would be safe with the real Danto. But now… who knew where she was. She could be anywhere.

  This was a freaking disaster. It was my worst fear coming to bite me in the ass, hard, and with teeth like a Great White shark.

  The Legion hadn’t cared enough to view my case as a real threat. Layla and I weren’t important. We were sullied by our demon blood. We were at the bottom of the slush pile, forgotten like a bad manuscript.

  I hoped for the Legion’s sake I never crossed paths with another angel again. Because if I did, I was going to shred them into glowsticks.

  With a nauseating suddenness, my anger coated my soul in a choking layer of fear and vengefulness. Damn you, Lucian. Damn you.

  “What do we do if we find Danto’s doppelganger?” asked Tyrius, his whiskers dropping as he frowned.

  “We kick his archdemon ass all the way back to the Netherworld.” My lips curled to a smile at the pleasant thought. That would be awesome.

  Tyrius’s eyes were wide and uncertain. “And we know how to do this?”

  No . My jaw clenched and my breathing increased as I fought to come up with a solution that didn’t involve getting us all killed, but I found none. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “You better hurry up with that crazy-ass plan.” Tyrius shifted his weight on my lap. “But first we need to find her. Where do you think she is?”

  My chest clenched. “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe he took her to the Netherworld,” said Tyrius, and I looked at Danto. My heart squeezed at the pain I saw flash across his face. “Lucian did say your place was with him there. Right?” continued the cat. “In the Netherworld next to him. Maybe he took Layla there.”

  I brought my gaze back to the Siamese cat. “I don’t think so. Whatever he wanted me for, it was supposed to happen here. On this side of the planes, not the Netherworld. I’ll bet it’s the same for Layla,” I finished, hoping I was right.

  Tyrius’s face screwed up in a frown. “What’s his big plan then?”

  “Nothing good,” I sighed, my blood pressure rising. “Maybe to use her as a weapon? I’m not sure.” It was the only thing that made sense to me. Why else give that powerful gift if not to use it?

  “To kill angel souls,” prompted the cat. “Which you passed with flying colors, I might add. Though the last angel douche did off himself. Dumbass.”

  “That’s part of it,” I said, nodding my head as I saw the same witch pub as we darted by it yet again. We were going in circles. “But it’s more than that. I got the impression whatever he’s planning was something far greater. And worse. I’m thinking biblical proportions.”

  “You mean a war.” Danto cut a glance at me, and I stifled a shiver at his black eyes. Shit. He had vamped out.

  Tyrius whistled. “Now that’s messed up.”

  I shifted in my seat with Tyrius balancing on my lap. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Why go through all this just to kill a few angel souls? It doesn’t make any sense. He’s th
e king of the Netherworld. Right? Or something of that effect. What do kings do?”

  “They conquer,” replied the cat. “Conquer and kill. Sometimes they even reproduce.”

  “Exactly,” I said, getting a mental image of Lucian reproducing, which was foul, not to mention equally disturbing. “Lucian’s been brewing something in the Netherworld for years. He’s pissed. He wants out. And I think… me or Layla are the key.”

  “Demon balls,” cursed the cat, his tail flicking erratically. “That’s all we need right now, a celestial war.” He lay down on my lap. “But how can Lucian take on the entire Legion of halos with just one of you?”

  A strand of hair tickled my face and I wrapped it around the back of my ear. “I don’t know that yet. He’d planned it that way. Not with Layla at first. Now, maybe he’ll use us both.” All I knew for certain was when I’d mentioned to Lucian the Legion would stop him, he’d laughed it off like it was a joke. That conversation had never settled well with me. Whatever he was planning, he truly believed it could easily take down the Legion of angels. What could possibly do that? What was powerful enough to take down a Legion of angels? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  The brakes made a slow squeak as we stopped at a stop sign. Danto’s brow was furrowed, the lines making deep shadows on him and causing him to appear older.

  I fought off a feeling of desperation as I settled back in my seat. “Lucian is still in his vampire guise. Right? Which means he needs more time to convince her.”

  Tyrius’s whiskers flickered, his face worried. “He’s been with her all day. He’s had loads of time. God knows what else they’ve been doing with all that time.”

  I cringed, not wanting to look at Danto to see the fury I knew would be flashing in his black eyes. “She’s his daughter.”

  “Technically, she’s not,” corrected Tyrius, his ears perked up on his head. “Layla had a mother and a father. She was born to angel-born parents. The only connection she has to Lucian is through your blood, which was minimal and diluted at best. You, on the other hand, well, Lucian’s blood went directly into your blood. Making his paternal connection to you stronger than Layla’s—though still not a true biological one. It’s more like a mutated, supernatural DNA strand.”