Angel Betrayed

by Cynthia Eden

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Two days ago, you came to kill me.”

  Okay, true, that had been her assignment, but . . .

  His fingers slid down her cheek and eased over her neck. “You came into my dreams and you tried to take my power.”

  Power he’d willingly given to her when his body took hers.

  “Now Fallen are dying around us. You say that Rogziel is after you . . .”

  “He is.” Like she’d lie about having a punishment angel on her trail.

  “Then why did he let you drive away with me?”

  Now she was lost. “What?”

  “Rogziel arrived at the scene after the firefighters. He perched on the house across the street from Anthea’s place, and he just watched us.” His mouth tightened with distaste. “When we left, so did he. No attack, not yet . . . he just followed.”

  That was fear eating at her heart. “He knows we’re here?”

  “ No. ”

  Her shoulders sagged. Aw, jeez, for a minute there . . .

  “I let him follow at first, just to see what the bastard would do, but after we left New Orleans, I cloaked us.”

  Uh, okay. She didn’t really know what he meant by cloaking, but she figured it was another little handy magic trait that he possessed—and just how many of those traits did the guy have? “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  She saw the ripple of dark wings over his shoulders. Shadows. Not there.

  “And there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

  Now he was starting to make her angry. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I guess that’s why they call it trust, right?” He’d been the one spouting about trust before, now he wanted—

  A rap shook the door.

  She didn’t like this.

  Sam turned away from her. “Don’t worry. If you have nothing to hide, this will be over in a few moments.”

  She grabbed his hand. “What if I do have something to hide?” Because, dammit, she hadn’t been straight with him, not entirely.

  And she still didn’t want to be.

  His gaze glittered down at her. “Then I’d say we have a problem.”

  Yes, they did. She did. “Demons can’t look into the minds of other demons.” In case his master plan was to bring in a level eight or nine demon to rip into her head. It wouldn’t work. Her demon blood would keep any psychic mojo out of her mind.

  “I’m not pulling in a demon.”

  Seline tried not to let him see her relief. She could probably handle this. She could usually handle just about anything.

  Usually.

  “I’m not looking for your past,” he told her. “The past is over. It doesn’t matter.”

  Bull. The past made the monsters of today and tomorrow.

  Sam’s eyes seemed to see too much. “I need to know the future, for both of our sakes.”

  Oh, no, no, he’d better not mean . . .

  Sam pulled away from her. He opened the door. Seline wasn’t sure what she expected, but it sure wasn’t the tall, tattooed guy with the devilish grin.

  Not a demon. Then . . . what?

  He wore all black, and the guy glided easily into the room. His shaved head inclined toward Sam. There were tribal tattoos sliding over his scalp. He asked, voice rumbling, “Is she the one?”

  Crap. The one what?

  “Sí, Mateo. I need to see what will happen with her.”

  Sam crossed his arms. The guy, Mateo, pulled out a knife.

  Then he came at her with that knife.

  Oh, hell, no.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Seline looked like she’d take a swing at Mateo, Sam lunged forward. He grabbed her right wrist, then her left, and held her tight.

  She glared up at him. “You are making one huge mistake here.”

  No, he was just doing what he had to do. He’d been misled by an innocent face before. Once upon a time, he’d even thought he was in love, then the human had found out exactly what he was. Even genteel ladies in 1880 could have a very dark side. Helena had drugged him with laudanum, then lit him on fire while he slept. The fire had burned through his skin. The drug had dulled his power so he couldn’t control the flames. He’d just burned, for hours . . .

  When Helena saw that he wasn’t dying, she’d brought in every man she could find from town. The good preacher had called him a devil, and the men had stabbed him. His muscles had been slashed, bones hacked . . . and he’d still lived.

  Torture could come in many forms.

  When the drug finally wore off, he’d shown them just how much of a devil he could be.

  Helena hadn’t been the first, or the last, human to betray him, but these days, he was far more careful.

  “Keep that guy and his knife away from me!” Seline said, voice rising.

  Not possible. “He needs your blood.”

  Her eyes widened. “Vampire?” A whisper, one he was sure Mateo heard.

  Sam shook his head. “Witch.”

  She paled even more. Apparently she knew that witches could be far more dangerous than vamps. Good for her.

  He glanced over his shoulder but kept his hold on Seline’s delicate wrists. Mateo had placed his scrying mirror on the floor. Its black surface gleamed up at them. The witch chanted softly.

  It wasn’t easy for a witch to look into the future. Many considered it forbidden.

  Good thing Sam and Mateo didn’t fall into that “forbidden” category.

  “Give me the knife,” he told Mateo.

  Mateo glanced up at him. “You always did like to get your hands dirty.”

  Seline kicked Sam in the shin. “I don’t know what you think is about to happen here—”

  Mateo rose and closed the distance between them. “I’m going to take a few drops of your blood. Then I’m going to get a little glimpse of the future.” Said flatly and with only the faintest hint of his Spanish accent. The guy sounded like he cut women all the time and peered into their futures—because that was exactly what he did.

  Just another ordinary night for him.

  “One glimpse will show us just where your allegiance lies,” Sam said because that part was what mattered. The body count was rising. Az and Rogziel would be closing in soon. Not just one threat—two. When the end came, could he trust her to have his back? Or would she serve him up to his enemies so that she could save herself?

  Been there, done that.

  “You expect me to bleed for you?” she demanded, voice sharp.

  Yes.

  Her eyes slit. “Then you will damn well bleed for me, too.”

  Now he hesitated.

  “Uh, boss?” Mateo muttered. “I don’t know about taking your—”

  “You bleed,” she said, baring her teeth in a wicked grin. “I bleed. You want to know what my future holds? Well, I want to know what’s gonna happen with you. I want to make sure when the cards are down that you don’t turn on me, too.”

  So trust was truly a lie for them both.

  He released her and stepped back. “Fine, but ladies first.”

  She glared at him. But, after a slight hesitation, she brushed by him and took the knife from Mateo. Mateo touched her lightly on the shoulder, and Sam saw the witch inhale a sharp breath. Mateo’s eyes met his.

  Succubus. Mateo mouthed the words and grimaced.

  Mateo had been burned, quite literally, by a succubus once upon a time.

  “How does this work?” The knife glinted in Seline’s hand.

  Mateo cleared his throat. “I just need a few drops of your blood. Stand over the mirror and let them fall onto the glass.”

  Seline gave a grim nod. She braced her legs apart and stood just over the mirror. Mateo crouched near the glass and whispered the last of his spell.

  “Now,” Mateo ordered.

  Seline took a deep breath, then she sliced across the tip of her left index finger. “Just a few drops, right?” The blood dripped onto
the mirror.

  Mateo’s body jolted. His eyes went blind as he cried out.

  Then he started to shake. Hard tremors rattled his frame. A gust of wind swirled through the room, and a deep crack raced across the ceiling.

  Seline looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Is this supposed to happen?”

  No.

  He took the knife. “Mateo!”

  The witch fell back. Mateo sucked in great gulps of air. Sam caught sight of the deep claw marks on his arms and back.

  Sometimes, you had to pay a price for seeing the future.

  With this job, Mateo’s debt to Sam would finally be paid in full.

  Sam had killed for the witch. Wiped out four coyote shifters. Now it was Mateo’s turn to face the dark.

  Sam’s left hand wrapped around the witch’s shoulder. “What did you see?”

  Seline began to sidle toward the door. Sam glanced up and pinned her with a stare. “Going someplace?”

  “What?” She shrugged. “Look, whatever he saw, that couldn’t have been good.”

  So she was already preparing to run away? “You aren’t leaving.”

  “Yeah? Well, you need to—”

  “Az comes for her.”

  Mateo’s gravelly voice had Seline halting.

  “He seeks her now,” Mateo said, voice weaker as he tried to straighten. “He won’t stop until he finds her.”

  Well, well. “Why?”

  Mateo looked up at him. “Death.”

  “He already promised me that sweet deal,” Seline said, sounding very aggravated. “I told you this.”

  “Won’t stop,” Mateo muttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he rocked back and forth. “Nothing will stop him . . . will come . . . her.”

  Sam’s gaze locked on Seline. “Interesting.” The word was growled.

  Seline swallowed. “Not really. To know that I have a psycho stalker isn’t exactly what I’d term interesting news. Terrifying, maybe. Not interesting.”

  “Why her?” Sam demanded, and felt a lick of rage spike his blood.

  Mateo’s dark eyes opened. “Don’t know why. Only know what will be.”

  “Does he get her?” Sam asked, voice flat.

  “Yeah. I’d like to know that one, too.” Seline brought her hand to her lips and quickly sucked her bleeding index finger.

  Lust jolted Sam.

  Blood and sex. Usually, the combination only worked for vampires.

  Her mouth—

  She lowered her hand. “You said he wouldn’t stop. Does that mean—when you looked in that mirror—did you see him kill me?” Fear had her eyes widening.

  Sam knew the witch would give Seline the truth, whether she really wanted to hear it or not. “I saw you covered in blood,” the witch told her.

  “Maybe it was someone else’s blood.” She sounded flippant, but Sam saw the tremble of her hand. “I can kick ass, too, you know.”

  Sam took the knife. “You ready?” She wouldn’t die. If Mateo had actually seen her death, he would have said that. Mateo wasn’t the type to sugarcoat, even for a lady.

  Especially for a lady.

  She might have been hurt, but in Mateo’s vision, she’d still been breathing.

  I’ll make sure she stays alive.

  Unlike Seline, Sam didn’t lightly cut his finger. Instead, he sliced his arm, right above the wrist, and the blood splattered onto the mirror.

  Mateo took a deep breath. Sam heard him mutter, “I don’t want to see this shit.”

  Too late.

  Mateo’s body began to spasm. He leaned in close to the glass. Then he screamed.

  An instant later, Mateo collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious.

  Angels weren’t supposed to lust. They weren’t supposed to covet. They weren’t supposed to want.

  They were supposed to guard. To watch. Not interfere.

  So many rules.

  Tomas had never been particularly good at following the rules.

  Guess that’s why I fell. He stretched his shoulders and felt the burn of the scars that would never fade.

  Tomas strode out of the cantina. Voices followed him, and laughter drifted in his wake. The night waited, dark and deep, with stars glistening overhead.

  He didn’t look to the heavens much these days. What was the point? He knew who looked back, and those guy upstairs sure wouldn’t be granting him any favors anytime soon.

  Tomas hurried down the narrow alleyway. He’d crash at his motel and hit the road come morning. Time for another town. More cantinas. More drinks. More women to try and make him forget . . . her.

  The softest rustle sounded behind him. Could have been nothing. Could have been a rat. A piece of garbage rolling in the breeze.

  But Tomas stopped at the sound, and an icy shiver of awareness skated over him. Since he’d fallen, he’d learned a lot about survival. Rule number one . . . never ignore your instincts. When you felt hunted, you probably were.

  He glanced back and saw nothing but the shadows.

  Rule number two . . . there’s always more to the night than you see.

  His nostrils flared as he drank in the scents around him.

  Rule number three . . . what you can’t see, you can probably smell. Everything had a scent. Right then, he smelled . . . brimstone.

  Hell.

  When you felt hunted, you probably were.

  When the witch fell over, Seline knew that was a very, very bad sign.

  But Sam grabbed the guy and hauled him to his feet and held him with a strong grip. Right then, Seline got a look at Mateo’s arms and the back of his shirt. Blood soaked the shirt, and deep claw marks ripped the material—and Mateo’s flesh.

  He hadn’t been bleeding when he’d come into the room. She’d seen his back when he put down his mirror. He’d been fine then.

  She inched away from them.

  “Mateo.” Sam barked the witch’s name. He lifted Mateo’s drooping chin. “Mateo, wake up.”

  The witch’s lashes began to flutter. Seline didn’t dare move. So much for a few hours’ rest. Her heart was pounding so fast she could barely breathe.

  “What happened? Dammit, what did you see?” Sam demanded.

  Seline didn’t think she wanted to know. She’d never wanted to know about her future. Why would anyone want to know if bad things were just waiting around the corner?

  Mateo’s hands flew up and grabbed Sam’s wrists. “Hell . . . after you.”

  So not what she’d wanted to hear.

  “You can’t escape him.” Mateo’s voice grew stronger. “Not once he has your scent. You can’t run. He’ll find you. You can’t kill him . . . you aren’t strong enough.”

  Um, Sam wasn’t strong enough to kill someone? Who could the Angel of Death not destroy?

  He has to be strong enough to defeat Rogziel. Sam was the strongest Fallen she knew. Mateo had to be wrong. He’d better be wrong.

  “Days . . . ,” Mateo said, “only days left.”

  Sam didn’t look even a little bit afraid. The smile that twisted his lips was vicious. “I’ve never been afraid of hell.”

  She couldn’t say the same. She was terrified—that was why she’d stayed with Rogziel. He’d told her she would burn because of what she was, unless she earned redemption.

  She’d just gotten blood and death.

  Sam’s shoulders rolled. “I’m not the running type.”

  Again, not so much her. Seline was very tempted to flee then.

  “He’ll come at your throat. You will fear,” Mateo promised. “You will . . .”

  Sam shoved the witch away from him. “This he . . . does he have a name?”

  “Too many names.”

  “Great,” Seline muttered, dragging her hand through her hair. “We needed the all-seeing Oz, and we got the freaking Riddler.” Why couldn’t the guy just answer a simple question? “Hey, buddy, over here.” She snapped her fingers and pulled Mateo’s attention her way. She was not going to look at his torn flesh. “Who did
you see coming for Sam? His brother? Rogziel?” Some other supernatural that she needed to start worrying about?

  “They all come,” Mateo said, and the strength vanished from his voice. Now he just looked and sounded beaten. “Time for a reckoning.”

  Crap. An attack from all sides. We are so screwed. Mateo bent and picked up his mirror. “Are we finished?” Sam’s hands fisted, but he nodded.

  Mateo’s fingers tightened around the mirror. “Then the debt is paid.”

  Whoa, wait, the guy had peeked into the future because he owed Sam? Seline rocked back on her heels, and, helplessly, her gaze darted to Mateo’s wounds. She could smell his blood and see the pain on his face. She asked, because she had to, “What happened to you? How’d you get those marks?”

  “When you look into the world of the spirits . . .” The mirror disappeared into a faded black bag hooked near Mateo’s hip. “Those spirits see you, too.”

  Creepy. “And they—what? Touch you?” More like claw and bite.

  “Yes,” he said flatly.

  So he’d willingly let his body be savaged because he owed Sam. Her stare drifted to her silent Fallen. “What kind of debt was that?” Had to be something big. You didn’t agree to use your body as a ghost punching/clawing bag over some piddly deal.

  Sam didn’t answer.

  Mateo did. “He took the heads of four shifters who wanted to rip all the flesh from my body.” He inclined his head toward Sam. “A few scratches seemed like equal pay to me.” Then he opened the door and walked into the night.

  Seline followed and shut the door. Because she didn’t want any more surprises, she pushed the lock into place. It clicked softly.

  Seline was silent for a moment. Then two moments, because she really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Finally, when the silence got too thick, she cleared her throat and asked, “Um, you got any more guests coming tonight that I need to know about?” Was anyone else coming by to spread doom and gloom?

  His eyes slowly slid to her. “Not tonight.”

  She expelled a hard rush of air. “That’s something.” Okay, first order of business . . . shower. Then sleep. Then hopefully no dreams that involved nightmares about fire and blood.

  Right, good luck with that one. Considering the week she was having, Seline was pretty sure that her real life would definitely chase her in her dreams.