Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1

by Johnston, Marie

  Odessa turned back to the bar. She had so many questions for Harlowe but couldn’t ask them until they left. Maybe she could ask Bryant. Would he be able to tell her?

  And why didn’t analysts and warriors communicate more? There was so much to the human and demon world that she didn’t know but might be the glue to piece the puzzle of her job together.

  Harlowe sucked in a hard breath. Odessa glanced at her, then followed her gaze up. The male in the window had been watching them. The burn of his gaze was uncomfortable. Odessa’s lungs constricted as he raised his hand, pointed to his eyes, then pointed to them. He was watching them.

  Odessa wanted to run. They were in the middle of a crowded club full of devoted Daemon followers. Yet if they revealed themselves as angels or otherworldly in any way, they faced consequences from their own realm.

  Harlowe dealt with the stress better. She blew the male a kiss and tugged Odessa’s elbow. Odessa hopped off her stool and they charged toward the back exit. If they could just make it outside and no one was around, they could wink to safety.

  “Should we get Bronx?” Odessa called, trying to keep up as Harlowe dragged her.

  “He can take care of himself. We’d only single him out if we tried to alert him.”

  Odessa searched the last place she saw him. The woman unwrapped her legs from around him and Bronx’s arm moved like he was closing his zipper. He was murmuring something, stroking her cheek with his other hand while she gazed adoringly at him. Hopefully he wasn’t too distracted with his “investigation” and realized he might be in danger.

  Harlowe slowed as they neared the back exit, and Odessa’s gut clenched when she saw why. They weren’t alone. A handsome man in an expensive suit had been leaning against the wall near the door, making out with a girl dressed in a long black dress that hugged the ample curves of her body. Her red lipstick was smeared all over his collar and lips. His tie hung loose, and his suit jacket draped open. But now his gaze was piercing the shadows straight to Harlowe. The warrior dropped to a defensive stance, keeping Odessa blocked.

  Harlowe had sensed something about the man, who also seemed to know that they were not just human women out for ladies’ night. Odessa evaluated him, at first squinting and then allowing her gaze to unfocus. Just like when she thought she saw a holographic image cross the garden gnome statue, she detected an image over the human’s face. It was of a dark-haired male, with obsidian horns coming out of his head to wrap closely around the back. The image was startling, more so because the demon male had well-defined cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes. He was more striking than his host.

  Demons weren’t supposed to be good-looking. None of their scholars had taught them that. This wasn’t just any demon. He must be an archmaster, and it was highly unlikely he would let them quietly exit while he went back to his debauchery.

  “Sander?” the human woman purred, trying to get his attention back to her.

  Ignoring her and shoving off the wall, the male stalked toward them, effectively blocking the exit.

  “Your human’s calling,” Harlowe pointed out, almost sounding breathy.

  The male stopped, barely turning his head back to the human. When it got to a point he’d have to take his gaze off Harlowe, he stopped and faced the warrior.

  “A little far from home?” Like his dual image, the human’s voice was echoed by a deeper, richer male’s voice.

  Was she getting better at recognizing possessions, or was he trying to make it obvious?

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Harlowe’s fingers flexed, like she would’ve been reaching for a weapon, but she hadn’t been allowed to wear any into the club.

  The human woman huffed and stomped off, thinking her man was more interested in the tall blonde. She was correct, but not in the way she assumed. At least her absence left them somewhat isolated from other humans. And from the way Harlowe and the archmaster faced off, a fight was imminent.

  “Aren’t you going to eject me and throw me into the Mist?” Sander, if that was his real name, took off his suit jacket and dropped it to the side. Harlowe watched him closely but waited for the demon to make the first move. The male wasn’t armed, either. Both of them had their fists raised, ready to throw a punch.

  “Maybe next time, Sandy.”

  Odessa’s mouth went dry. She was a liability. Harlowe wouldn’t leave her, and they couldn’t disappear into the Mist around witnesses. They’d have to fight the demon to make it out the door and get the hell out of there.

  The host’s lips curled and revealed the sensual curve of the archmaster’s lips in the overlay image. It was just wrong a demon could look so good.

  “Shame,” he said. “And it’s not Sandy, or Sander. Call me Sandeen.” He lunged.

  Harlowe landed a solid right hook on the male’s jaw. He yanked her arm and twisted her around, pinning it behind her back. Harlowe didn’t cry out in pain, but snapped her head back—a square hit to his nose. Odessa jumped on him from behind just as his head flew back. It nailed her in the chin. Odessa’s teeth rattled with the hit and her grip loosened. He grunted and let go of Harlowe in an attempt to elbow Odessa off of him.

  Harlowe spun, her fist heading for Sandeen’s face. To keep from impeding Harlowe’s hit, Odessa let go and dropped to the ground. But with Odessa’s weight off, Sandeen ducked and rammed Harlowe in the belly. Both bodies barreled into the exit, pushing the handle. The metal door swung open. They flew out onto the sidewalk.

  Odessa checked behind her to see if anyone was following. Only a few humans had noticed the door open and thought nothing of the couple that exited in a tangle. She dashed outside. The two fighters rolled on the ground. Glimpses of creamy flesh played peekaboo as Harlowe’s tiny skirt flapped up while she wrestled. The male’s white dress shirt had ripped open and blood ran freely down his chin and chest from his bleeding nose. Harlowe’s fists and elbows were a blur, but the male seemed interested in searching Harlowe’s body like he was looking for something. Odessa danced back and forth on each boot as she debated how she could be useful.

  Harlowe finally dislodged herself and rolled away, popping up into a crouch where Odessa stood.

  “What’s a warrior doing with no weapons?” The male heaved himself off the pavement. His human host swayed.

  “We were just here to party, looking for a good time. But you cut that short.” It was a sad attempt at deflecting from their real reason for being there.

  Sandeen snorted, then winced and spit a bloody glob to the ground. “Do you expect me to buy that?” He could barely get his host’s lips into a cocky grin, but it was portrayed in the image of the real Sandeen. “I could’ve showed you a good time.”

  Harlowe had almost backed up to Odessa. Odessa hoped she was correct interpreting Harlowe’s intent accurately and reached out to grab hold of Harlowe. She wanted to go together over risking getting caught by herself. One afternoon of practice didn’t teach her enough to swat a fly.

  Sandeen crouched to attack when he realized they were going to transcend.

  “Go!” Odessa told Harlowe. She’d be along for the ride.

  He jumped forward to grab onto Harlowe and shuttle along. The exit door clattered open and Bronx barreled out. He shoved Sandeen. The human flew backward, and all three of them disappeared.

  Chapter 17

  Bryant paced the sidewalk, his hands folded behind his back. His gaze tracked up and down the street. Urban stood impassively by the outer wall of an empty building, a former brewery. This part of town was perfect to wait in. Nearly abandoned, any others cruising the streets wouldn’t think anything of him and Urban loitering in dark clothing. Cops weren’t interested in coming here if they didn’t have to.

  It was an ideal neighborhood for a club like Fall from Grace in that there were many isolated spots to do business in—human or otherwise.

  The other male hadn’t spoken all night. He was used to Urban’s quiet nature, but tonight it grated on him. Couldn’t he h
elp pass the time while Odessa was in a club that might have patrons hunting her?

  On the flip side, if Urban had been hitting him up with idle conversation, Bryant might have decked the bloke.

  A faint sizzle in the air prepped him for the incoming arrival.

  Three bodies appeared in front of him and Bryant went straight to Odessa. Her face was pale and she was breathing hard.

  “We need to go,” Harlowe announced.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Bronx demanded.

  “We gotta go. Now,” Harlowe urged.

  “You okay?” Bryant ignored the other two, waiting for Odessa’s breathing to calm down.

  She nodded weakly, her eyes darting around like she expected the shadows to come alive. Shouts rang through the night from the direction of the club.

  “Guys!” Harlowe pitch rose.

  Bryant finally took his gaze off Odessa to address Harlowe. “Hotel or Odessa’s mansion?”

  “Mansion. We need to get out of this realm.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Instead of just grabbing onto Odessa to make sure she transcended back to her home with him, he curled his arm around her waist. She let him carry her back to the mansion.

  After they arrived on her doorstep, he waited, sensing the others arrive around him, standing in the same positions they had on the street. Odessa’s head rested on his shoulder and he was content to hold her.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Bronx repeated as they piled into her living room.

  “That was an archmaster,” Harlowe said.

  Odessa lifted her head. “I could see him. Is that normal, or was he allowing it?”

  “He was allowing it,” Harlowe nearly growled.

  “Do they all look…” Odessa’s forehead creased, like she didn’t know how to finish her sentence, “Like that? That…good?”

  Bryant’s brows shot up. What?

  “Not usually. Archmasters are our size and look more humanoid than symasters. They all have horns and black wings, but usually they look…” Now Harlowe seemed uncomfortable. “Worse.”

  “The demon was good-looking,” Bronx agreed. “I only caught a glimpse, but I don’t think he was even covered in fur.”

  Bryant was stuck on his mate thinking a demon was hot. As if he didn’t have enough stacked against him.

  “Definitely no fur or cloven hooves on him.” Harlowe gave a sharp shake of her head. “He figured out I was a warrior, but he wasn’t armed, just a customer. I don’t think they ever suspected the angels would find their club.”

  “Magan did.” Odessa straightened and Bryant missed her warmth. “She and Cal were killed because they knew about the club and what might be happening there.”

  “Then they thought their contacts in Numen were keeping their secret safe. Maybe they don’t know Odessa’s still alive.” Bryant finally realized he still had his arm around Odessa when he instinctively went to pull her in closer. He dropped it to his side. She didn’t need him hanging on her to protect her.

  Odessa frowned. He doubted it was because he took his arm away. The fight must be bothering her.

  “I agree, Harlowe,” Bronx said. “They had bouncers, but none of them were possessed. Everyone there was looking to have a good time—a real good time. I think the tactical decisions on who to target and what they’re after are made somewhere else.”

  “Yes,” Odessa said. She chewed briefly on her lower lip as her brow furrowed. “It’s a place for that guy we saw, and whoever works for him, to see who they are going to use for their dirty work, but most importantly—who’ll get possessed. Those people want to be watched by him, but he’s really observing them. It’s like a warped job interview.”

  “What guy?” Bronx asked.

  Harlowe rolled her eyes. “You were busy.”

  A smug grin lit his face. “All in a day’s work. I got her to talk. She said she’s waiting for a demon to possess her so she can earn her wings. They’re trying to hunt chaperones.”

  “Shiiiit.” Urban exhaled. The first thing he’d said in hours and it hit the mark.

  “Hunt chaperones?” Bryant asked.

  Harlowe nodded toward Odessa. “The guy we got talking said he helped an archmaster kill a warrior. No resistance when we use our power to free a soul.”

  “What’s that mean, exactly?” Odessa asked.

  Bryant reeled over the revelations. “When a human is possessed, their soul puts up a natural resistance. Only an archmaster can destroy a soul and take over the body completely, otherwise a part of the host’s mind is always working. Ripping a demon out of their host involves untangling them from the soul. Warriors learn how to do it in training, but it takes considerable divine power, and we do it while prepping to ascend to the Mist. If the host is willing and is taught how to let go, it’d be like playing tug of war and the other side suddenly dropped the rope.”

  “The warrior after the archmaster would’ve stumbled into the Mist with the demon, who then had the advantage.” Harlowe shook her head, unsettled.

  Urban spoke to Bryant. “The leader must be a fallen. How else would a host know to do that?”

  Bryant was thinking the same thing. “Tell me what you saw.”

  Bronx and Harlowe filled him in on their respective conversations, including the man in the upper level who had watched the crowd and sensed their angelic presence.

  Bryant turned to Odessa. “Were you able to recall many of your notes?” He wanted to hear how Odessa put the information together. Her mind didn’t work like a warrior’s.

  Odessa went to the couch and sat down, those ridiculously sexy shorts riding up even higher on her mile-long legs. She looked like she wanted to untie her boots and kick them off, but she sat back instead, taking off her tie. Which only drew more attention to her bust-line and nicely rounded cleavage visible above the last button.

  “I got more clarification on the tattoos. Like I thought, a black rose is a follower. They watch for potential candidates, look for the characteristics that make a person open to possession, maybe shake up their life a little. They function like sylphs in that manner. If the follower wants to play host to a demon, they get tatted with a barbed wire tattoo, usually around the left arm. I assume that once they’ve played house with a demon, they ink the blood on. The guy that hit on Harlowe confirmed that the torn wings mean he helped destroy an angel. I’m not sure that there are any more.”

  Bryant thought for a moment, trying to keep from looking at Odessa stretching her long legs and arching her back like she was stretching cramped muscles. Morphing wings so they weren’t visible to humans was taxing, and she’d spent the day shopping and the night was getting late. She must not be used to having them tucked in so long. Warriors hunted a possession for days at a time, so he was more accustomed to the discomfort. He barely noticed it until several days had gone by.

  He worked over the details of the night. “We know they’re hunting warriors and watchers who threaten their existence. We need to know why they’re hunting a chaperone? To keep the soul of a deceased human from reaching the divine realm? Or is it the angel they’re after? The leader has contacts in all three realms. What their overall goal is, we don’t know yet.”

  He studied his team. Harlowe and Bronx were pumped full of adrenaline after their little fight and couldn’t stand still. Shifting from foot to foot, they each periodically rolled their shoulders, their gazes alert. Urban had energy yet to burn because he was Urban. He was like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, quiet for hours and an explosion of energy when necessary.

  “Urban, you fill in Sierra and Dionna. Dionna can stay to guard the mansion. Sierra can use her contacts to search for information about the owner of the club. After Odessa gets some rest, I’ll take her to start looking into records of the fallen.”

  His mate rewarded him with a grateful smile. “I’m going to go clean up. When you’re done here, can I talk to you?”

  Odessa stood, bid the others good night, an
d ascended the stairs without glancing in his direction. He could tell himself it was because she was knackered, but he couldn’t escape the feeling he’d done something wrong.

  * * *

  Odessa had no idea if Bryant was going to come up to talk with her or not. She had many questions banging around in her head. It was time to get answers.

  Unbuttoning her shirt, she shed the flimsy material and shook her wings free.

  Ahhh. How did Felicia do it with her wings morphed the entire time down on Earth? Odessa knew why, just not how. She unbuttoned her shorts. It felt like she had been fending off the wedgie from hell all night. It was time to get those things off.

  Oh, damn, the boots.

  Sighing, she left her shorts in place and decided to tackle the boots after she cleaned her face.

  On her way to the bathroom, she grabbed a tee to throw on. After shrugging into it and settling the special slits over her wings, she tackled the thick liner around her eyes, first smearing it until she resembled a raccoon before it finally wiped off. Her skin glowed a healthy pink thanks to several minutes of scrubbing.

  She released her hair from its ties and bent over, letting it hang down to the floor. After a good shake, she straightened up and flipped her head back.

  Nice. Pressure off her head, pressure off her back. Time to get the pressure off her feet.

  She went out to her main bedroom and stopped when Bryant entered. He’d also let his magnificent wings out of their morph. Normally lending him a commanding presence to his profile, his wings were lowered, and he stumbled to a stop and closed the door behind him.

  “Oh.” She pressed her hand against the thrill that zinged through her belly. “Hi.”

  Bryant’s gaze fell on her and his nostrils flared. How must she look? Makeup-free face, wild and dark hair, pale pink tee, short and tight black shorts, and knee-high laced boots.

  A hot mess.

  She expected him to go for the door, saying he’d return when she was ready. But his gaze roamed down her body and landed on her boots. The amber depths blazed with pent-up emotion.