by Susan Illene
Cori nodded. “I’m afraid the problem is who I’m testing. Derrick gives me these really bad guys who’ve hurt innocent people, and it’s hard to want to give them that special power—never mind that they’re just gonna get staked afterward. I’d love to try it on someone who deserves it, but if they die…”
“You’d feel terrible,” he finished.
“Exactly.”
“Don’t worry about that too much. I have full confidence in your abilities,” he reassured her, then glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it was almost four in the afternoon. “When do you finish here?”
“Ten minutes, but I have to make a run to the bank to make a deposit.” She paused, her expression changing. “Did you hear about the museum robbery in Chicago?”
“I did.” He’d seen it on the news just before going to the nerou compound. Now that a demon had made its way to Fairbanks, he was less keen on Cori traveling around town by herself. “Allow one of your employees to go instead.”
She lifted her chin. “I always do it…but you can go with me.”
Bartol had to resist the urge to make her go home where she’d be safe. Without her cooperation, he couldn’t flash her. Cori was at least part sensor. She’d received one recessive gene from one of her parents, which would normally be dormant, but consuming Melena’s blood last year had activated it. So while she wasn’t entirely immune to magic, she could choose when it worked on her or not. He had to try reason if he wanted to get his way.
“Consider the baby,” he said.
Her hand crept over her belly and she glanced down, her gaze lingering there for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Our child is fine.”
“A demon was found in Fairbanks this morning.”
Cori stiffened. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I’ve just come from vanquishing it.”
“Well, then…” She worked her jaw. “Then you will be the perfect company while I go to the bank. You’ll know when one is close, right?”
He could, but only once it was within a dozen or so paces from him. Only a sensor could track them farther out. “That isn’t the point.”
“Look, Bartol.” She clenched her fists. “We can’t live our lives in fear of remote possibilities, especially if you’ve already killed the demon. In six weeks, this baby will be born, and then we’ll have to worry about his or her safety every time we take our child out of our home. Cars, planes, asteroids…anything could be a hazard whether demons are around or not. Believe me, I’ve learned that lesson all too well. This isn’t any easier on me, but I promised myself I would not let my past affect my future and I need you to help with that.”
Gut-wrenching pain entered her eyes as she said the last part. This was a woman who had lost her five-year-old daughter because of her ex-husband’s carelessness while drinking and driving. He’d had their little girl for the weekend as part of their divorce agreement, so there was nothing she could have done. Bartol had seen the grave Cori regularly visited, and he could tell she’d never fully gotten over it.
At least the fool who’d killed her daughter was finally dead and gone. He’d gone up in flames in the sun last year—as a result of becoming a vampire—and had tried to take Cori with him. She’d nearly died from extensive burns, but a heavy dose of Melena’s immortal blood had saved her. Going through that had forced Bartol’s mate to relive the trauma of her daughter dying and had changed her irrevocably, though she did her best to hide the pain and suffering she felt.
Cori had held herself together remarkably well as impending motherhood approached for the second time. It might have helped that this baby would be far more resilient and potentially immortal once it grew up, but there would be a period during its childhood where it would be vulnerable.
The nerou, who had the most similar genetic makeup to his and Cori’s unborn child, never faced a day of sickness in their lives. They could heal quickly from everything except the gravest of injuries. They didn’t even need very much oxygen or food to sustain them. But because they grew up in Purgatory where nothing could harm them, no one knew for certain what vulnerabilities they might have faced in their youth if they’d been on Earth. With nephilim, they healed slower during childhood, and they didn’t have any abilities to help defend themselves until well into adulthood.
“I know this can’t be easy for you,” he began.
“It isn’t.” Cori hugged herself. “And it doesn’t help that you aren’t able to…”
“Comfort you properly,” he finished.
He took a step toward her. They were a mere five feet apart, but it felt closer to him—more like a breath away. He required a good deal of personal space, but he could see that she needed him. A few more steps and he stood directly in front of her. Cori gazed up at him, standing nearly a foot shorter. Cautious hope entered her eyes. It wasn’t often he braved touching her intimately, despite feeling the need all the time when they were apart.
Bartol braced himself, took a calming breath, and pulled her into his arms. She sank into him, careful not to clutch him too tightly. He closed his eyes and rubbed her back. His throat was tightening, his chest felt like a boulder was crushing it, and he had the urge to flee, but he did his best to ignore all of that and just be there for his mate. He had to give her all of him that he could, and desperately wished it could be more. Cori wasn’t one to allow others to help her often, and she preferred not to show vulnerability, but sometimes with him, she let her guard down. He cherished that she trusted him that much. For a long minute, he held her. It was difficult, and yet it felt right deep down inside. They loved each other—for better or worse.
He kissed her forehead and pulled away. “I will go with you to the bank.”
Cori let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“And God help anyone who tries to harm you along the way.”
“I know, right?” She gave him a saucy smile. “I’ll shoot them to Hell and back.”
“You’re not taking a gun with you, are you?”
She gave him a careless shrug. “I do what I must.”
Sometimes, Bartol had no idea what to make of the woman he’d fallen in love with, but one thing he did know above all else was that they were made for each other.
Chapter 4
Cori
They rode together in Cori’s Chevy Tahoe to the bank. She let Bartol drive since he’d renewed his skills over the last few months and had begun to enjoy it. With the baby kicking up a storm, she wasn’t in the mood to take the wheel anyway. During her first pregnancy, her daughter had moved a lot, but apparently nephilim offspring were even stronger in the womb. In the last few days, she’d started to make out the shape of a foot poking through her stomach. The child was growing fast, and she wondered if she’d survive another six weeks.
“That’s it right there,” she said, pointing to where Bartol needed to turn into the parking lot.
The day had turned cloudy, and Cori wondered if a storm was on the horizon. She should have checked the weather. After parking, they got out and headed inside. Only a few people stood in line, so at least she wouldn’t have to wait long. She had the money and deposit form ready to go, clutching them as Bartol stood with her.
His gaze was wary. He kept glancing around at everyone while keeping his head ducked low, no doubt conscious of the burn scars on one side of his face. Bartol always wore his golden-brown hair down in public as well so that people couldn’t see his features easily. He didn’t like it if anyone stared at him with horror or fear—not that she could blame him. The man was already large and muscular, so the burn scars made him appear that much more intimidating to those who didn’t know him.
He stiffened when a couple walked into the lobby and stood behind them in line. Cori wasn’t surprised since he was never comfortable in public and always looked like he was ready to dash off at any moment. Now he was surrounded. She wished she could take his hand and offer comfort, but that would only make it worse.
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nbsp; The people at the front of the line finished their transaction, and everyone moved forward. A moment later, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Cori turned and her blood ran cold. Two figures like she’d seen on the news entered the bank, dark smoke curling around them. Their eyes were glowing red, and they emanated evil unlike anything she’d felt before. They moved across the lobby slow and purposefully.
People started screaming, and one woman shouted, “My God, help us!”
“Stop!” A security guard came forward, pistol pointed toward the faceless men in black capes.
The eerie smoke flowed forward like claws from a huge dragon, taking down anyone that touched its path. The guard started shooting as it got close to him. His bullets went wild, only striking one intruder, and that did nothing more than make the demon jerk a little. The guard went down in a puff of darkness, no longer visible. The smoke was getting closer to the tellers and would reach everyone else soon.
Cori fought the urge to run and reached for her revolver instead.
Bartol put a hand on her shoulder, staying her. “Don’t move. I’ll take care of this.”
He flashed in front of the two figures, punching one where apparently there was a face underneath the cowl and sending the figure crashing into the wall. Spinning toward the other intruder, he grabbed it by the neck and pressed his other hand to its chest. He was drawing the demonic energy out to kill it, but that would take time. Bartol hadn’t fought any demons in months and was out of practice.
Cori’s heart leaped into her throat when the first figure started to rise from his slump. Its eyes were glowing red again and staring at the vulnerable people by the bank counter. Tendrils of smoke reached her boots and swarmed around her. It probably wouldn’t affect her with her resistance to magic, but what if it hurt the baby somehow? Or what if the demon went after the other people next? She had to do something.
As the couple in line behind her sunk to the floor, her mind raced for a solution. If regular bullets wouldn’t do anything, maybe she had to get creative. She scrambled to get the letter opener out of her purse, keeping an eye on the demon and its impending smoke. Quickly, she poked it into her index finger until a drop of blood pooled. Then she released the revolver cylinder and dumped the cartridges out, smearing blood on the front of the bullets before reloading them. It was a trick she’d learned from Melena, but she had no idea if it would work for her. Mel could send a demon back to Hell with a small amount of her blood. Cori wasn’t a full sensor, but she might have enough power to at least slow them down. Bartol had told her how it worked with the nerou, so maybe it would work the same for her. Anything to buy time.
He was still pulling the dark essence from the other demon as the first one began moving across the lobby. Cori estimated it would take her mate a couple of more minutes to finish the process. Slapping the cylinder back into place on her revolver, she cocked the hammer and fired. The approaching demon jerked at the first shot, stumbled at the second, and went down with the third. As Bartol finished with his adversary, the smoke started to clear from the lobby.
“Is it dead?” she asked, pointing toward her target.
He shook his head. “No, but it is weakened and unconscious.”
Kneeling down, he pressed his hand to the figure’s chest and started to draw the essence out. This time it flowed faster since his opponent wasn’t struggling. Those who had fallen to the demon smoke began to rouse as it dissipated around them. Behind Cori, the tellers mumbled to each other.
“What is he doing?”
“What were those things?”
“They’re demons,” Cori replied, glancing back at them. “He killed one and he’s finishing the other.”
One woman gasped. “Demons?”
“How is he able to kill them?” a man asked.
Like her, they could see Bartol drawing some sort of dark streaks of energy into his hands. It was certainly not something a person saw every day. He did it with a concentrated expression on his face, methodical and emotionless. A minute later, he lifted his palms and released the streak into the air where it dissipated into nothing.
“He’s a nephilim—half angel and half human, but he’s the only one of his kind who can do that,” Cori said proudly.
Bartol stood, shoulders stooped and weary. It took a lot out of him to vanquish demons, and this was his third today. She could only imagine how exhausted it must have made him, especially being out of practice.
“It’s done,” he announced.
The people in the bank started clapping and cheering. A slight blush crept up the side of his neck that was visible under the blanket of his hair. He ducked his head. Cori started toward him, but a bright flash of light on the opposite end of the lobby stopped her.
A large man stood there with a cowboy hat, short tufts of red hair sticking out underneath it. He wore tight blue jeans, a belt with a large golden buckle, boots, and a white button-up shirt. At first glance, he appeared unassuming and almost blended into the background. Since she’d gained her new abilities, though, she knew he was anything but ordinary. A powerful, white-gold aura surrounded him. From past experience, she knew he had to be an archangel.
“Well done,” he said with a drawl. “I’d hoped you’d do the right thing.”
Bartol frowned, no recognition in his eyes. He didn’t realize who he was looking at and couldn’t spot the aura the way she could. Nephilim abilities were many and strong, but they had their limits. If an angel wanted to appear human around them, they could likely do it. Only sensors, nerou, and someone like her could tell the difference because of their resistance to magic.
“What are you doing here?” Cori asked in a scathing tone. She’d never seen this guy before, but she wasn’t a fan of most angels and preferred to assume the worst. They were usually more trouble than they were worth. “I thought Heaven’s minions didn’t bother with these sorts of things.”
He turned his golden gaze toward her, revealing a hint of the power hidden underneath. “Just observing.”
“That’s useful,” she replied, rolling her eyes. He must have watched from afar until now, spying on them through magic so he wouldn’t be noticed.
Most archangels wore white robes, and the intensity of their glow was so strong it almost blinded one’s eyes. This one was different. He was holding his essence back, hiding it so only people with the right abilities could see him for his true nature.
Due to an ancient treaty, angels weren’t supposed to interfere with demons directly. It made them pretty useless for the most part. They’d sort of helped in London, basically pointing the way as to what to do and allowing Bartol’s father to help, but they’d still left the bulk of the work to the earth-bound supernatural.
The angel gave her a lazy grin. This one had the cowboy act down pat.
She had the sudden urge to throw something at him, preferably a strong burning acid. “You know it’s not Halloween for another six months, right?”
Bartol moved to Cori’s side, standing protectively next to her as he stared at the man in the cowboy hat. “What do you want?”
The archangel flicked his hand, and everyone in the bank froze except the three of them. “Maybe we should talk somewhere more private. This is a little…open.”
“Why?” Bartol growled. “They can’t hear us anymore.”
“I can’t keep them like this for long.”
Two more large men appeared, lesser angels who also wore casual clothing, jeans, and t-shirts. Cori couldn’t help being a little curious, considering she’d never seen them try to blend in like this. Something was definitely different about these guys.
“Maybe we should hear him out,” she whispered.
Bartol ground his jaw. “I have nothing to say to any of them.”
He wasn’t a fan of Heaven’s minions since they’d allowed him to be brutally tortured for a century in Purgatory for a crime that was hardly worth the severe punishment. All he’d done was sleep with a female angel. T
hey thought he was the one to seduce her, so they’d wanted to make an example out of him. It was only recently that they learned she’d sought him out first, so as recompense, they were allowing Cori to go through the process to become immortal—when she was ready. Forever was a long time to live, and she needed time to seriously consider it before taking that leap. Bartol hated that she wouldn’t allow it yet, and they’d fought hard about that, but he couldn’t argue about it further until after the baby was born when it would be safe to complete the transition.
It was normally forbidden to share angel blood. When Lucas had done the same thing with Melena, he’d been punished with time in Purgatory. It had been a huge concession that Bartol would at least get to share his blood with Cori and make her immortal someday, not that it made her mate like angels any better for the special privilege.
“Don’t be like that,” the wannabe cowboy said. “I have a deal for you that you don’t want to pass up.” He gestured toward his two guys, who moved to grab the former demon hosts that lay lifeless on the floor. All four disappeared, but a few moments later the angels returned. They started cleaning up the mess around them, returning everything to its former state. Based on how efficient they were, this wasn’t their first time.
“What kind of deal?” Cori asked, suspicious.
“The kind that affects the future of your child.”
Bartol leaped forward and grabbed the archangel by his shirt collar. “Don’t you dare bring my child into this, you bastard.”
It wasn’t often her mate got violent. Bartol worked hard to keep himself under control because he feared the violent half of himself and tried to keep it in check. Cori admired that about him, considering so many other immortals had far fewer scruples. It was one of the things that made it easier to be with him after having such an abusive first husband.
The cowboy angel clucked his tongue. “Touchy, touchy.” Then he directed his gaze toward Cori, undisturbed by the nephilim still holding him. “I suggest you rein him in before things get…difficult.”