Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1

by Johnston, Marie

  “Two shrimp?” She was looking around her plate. “That’s it?”

  He laughed, and it felt good. When he first saw Lindy partying at Fall from Grace, he thought she looked refined, classy. Perhaps, compared to the rest of his clientele. He was learning that she lived life the way she had sex—full throttle with a sizable appetite. He enjoyed that.

  At that thought, Jameson frowned at his own meager portions. What kind of red-blooded male ate that small of a steak? And what the hell was he thinking keeping Lindy around? The last time he grew something that resembled feelings for a woman, he’d lost his wings.

  “It’s what you wanted,” he snapped at her.

  Her shoulders dropped along with her gaze. She picked up her fork to dig at the food artfully arranged on her plate.

  “Look, I didn’t mean—” Was he apologizing now? To a human? “I’ve had some shit happen at work and it’s making me edgy.”

  There. An explanation but not an apology.

  “It’s all right. Is there anything I can do to help? I do have a black rose.”

  He considered her for a minute before he tackled his two-bite steak. “What brought you to my club in the first place?”

  She pondered his question. “I guess, I wanted more. More than an adventure— I wanted to feel like I’m doing something.” She shrugged and stared at her plate. “I get tired of being a woman who likes sex but is seen as nothing more than a walking vagina. I meant it when I said I could help.”

  Most women who visited his club liked to walk on the wild side. Once they experienced Fall from Grace, they either ran the other way and cleaned up their life, or they wanted more and got recruited. Aside from the rare devil worshipper, it was a slow process as they eased the humans into service. Lindy was…not totally good but not evil. A little wicked like him—perhaps why he was drawn to her.

  Yet he couldn’t see her outright killing any beings. He didn’t want her to earn the bloodied barbed wire. He wanted no possessed bodies in his bed, and an archmaster could destroy her.

  No, he couldn’t use her in those ways. She had a brain, she had looks, and she supported his plan. He could keep her in his home, providing for his body, and utilize her full package.

  Yes, he might have some other uses for her.

  Chapter 26

  Bryant finished updating his boss on everything. The director leaned back in his chair, blew out a gusty exhale, and stared at the ceiling. His steel-hued wings rested on either side of his elbows on his chair’s armrest.

  “So a fallen, Jagger’s father, is organizing humans to host demons and support them in hunting angels.” Director Richter squinted at Bryant. “He’s likely working with someone high-ranking in the senate, but we don’t know who and we don’t know why. We know Jameson Haddock has Daemon alliances, but we don’t know who and we don’t know why.”

  “Correct.”

  “And now that Haddock knows we know about him, he’s surrounded his club, and likely himself, with sylphs and possessed humans for protection.”

  “That about covers it.”

  Director Richter sighed and was quiet for a few moments. “Keep Jagger with Felicia. We can’t be sure she won’t be targeted since they, whoever ‘they’ are, have used her before to get to her father.”

  Bryant nodded. “It will also keep Jagger from having a conflict of interest when it comes to dealing with his father.”

  The director’s face was grim. “We need to have a talk with Odessa’s father. He’s got to be able to provide us with the name of the corrupt senator, maybe even have insight as to why. What benefit is there to have a bunch of humans worshipping demons?”

  “For Haddock? Revenge.” Bryant put himself in Haddock’s shoes. “To survive and be able to amass an army must be intoxicating. A big ‘fuck you’ to the angels that took his wings.”

  The director snorted. “If he would’ve kept it in his pants, or at least kept his mouth shut and not told his mistress he was an angel, then he’d still have his wings.”

  “I doubt he sees it that way.”

  “Those types of males never do. Righteous bastards.” The director pinned Bryant with a sharp look. “How are things with you and Odessa?”

  Bryant resisted squirming in his seat like a five-year-old. “Good. For now.”

  The male Bryant respected most in the realm frowned.

  Dammit. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, but his feelings and worries about his lovely mate had been eating at him. It wasn’t like he’d had time to head to London and have a sit down with his dad for some guy talk. He couldn’t go to his team because he was their fearless leader. Telling the director about what’d been weighing heavily on his mind as far as Odessa went suddenly seemed appealing.

  “Our sync has been finalized.” The director’s brows shot up. “We get along okay. Well, actually, really well.”

  Bryant waited and the other male kept watching him, waiting to see what the problem was. It was obvious to Bryant. Couldn’t Director Richter see?

  “I’m just worried about after we neutralize the threat to her and her family. She won’t need around the clock protection. She’ll be free.”

  The director waited a couple of seconds, his brow furrowed. “And?”

  “And she’ll be free to realize that syncing with me was something she felt cornered into doing.”

  Director Richter tilted his head back in an ah-ha movement. “I see. Has she given you any indication she regrets her decision?”

  “No.” If she had, it’d be easier once the hammer dropped.

  “The delay between the sync ceremony and the…sealing… Your resistance or hers?”

  “Mine, sir.”

  “When you two finally… She knew you’d stick around even without a fully sealed bond, correct?”

  “Yes.” Why was it so hard for people to understand? “I’m talking about after all this is done, when she realizes she doesn’t need me in her life anymore but is synced with me forever.”

  “Vale, you’re mixing up normal issues with issues about your looks.”

  “What?”

  “Most mates worry their mate will come to resent them. An eternity together is a long time. Because of your history, you’re obsessing about it and you blame your looks.” Director Richter rested his elbows on his desk. “Most warriors think I left the field because Millie didn’t want to spend her life worrying about me. She saved my life, fully syncing with me when I landed on her doorstep. My wings were nearly falling off and I was bleeding out of a nasty head wound.”

  That was totally what Bryant thought, but from the male’s voice, maybe not?

  “But that makes no damn sense, does it?” the director asked.

  Actually, it did.

  He continued. “I mean, there was only one director position and hundreds of warriors. How many of those warriors are mated and still out in the field? I’ve been in this chair for decades and no one’s walked in demanding to take it. What happened was that Millie helped me to see my worth. I was a good warrior, but I could be a damn good leader. Maybe Odessa can help you see your worth past your injuries, past your abilities as a fighter. She obviously sees the worthy male under all that negative attitude.”

  Bryant considered the director’s words. What would Odessa think he was worth? He was a warrior. He’d reached his potential already.

  “Once you see your value as a male and as a mate,” the director obviously wasn’t done, “then you can see why it’s worth it to you to spend your time making sure Odessa would never consider the possibility of not being mated to you. It’s called romancing. Some humans are quite good at it, actually.”

  Bryant opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Romancing? How did he begin to research that?

  Director Richter spoke before Bryant could think of a rebuttal. “Convince yourself you are the best mate for Odessa, then set about proving it to her for the rest of your life.”

  Odessa had said much the same.

 
; What if…what if he was good enough for her? What if he could make her happy enough to not regret her decision? Each time he’d gotten close to pondering the same thing, he’d backed off. There’d always been a good reason. She’d had no choice. She was stuck. He had nothing more to offer her.

  But those thoughts weren’t as quick to pile on. What if?

  The director moved the subject along before it became uncomfortable for either one of them. “I’ve been keeping Stede off your back. He’s been wanting his team to have access to Odessa’s mansion, but I’m waving your mate card around. It’s your home now, too.”

  Bryant barked a laugh. “My home is a mansion. Never thought I’d see the day.” He didn’t think it even felt like home to Odessa.

  “I’ll surreptitiously let Senator Montclaire know we need to talk to him,” the director continued. “We need to find out who is in charge, both up here and in Daemon, and then find out why. At this point, even if we could take out Haddock, they’d just replace him with another.”

  “We need proof, or if we touch Haddock, whoever his senator friend is could find a loophole and take our wings.”

  The director’s mouth tightened. “All right, you figure your next move with your team, and I’ll work on Odessa’s father. First, I need to get word to all team leaders. We’re being hunted.”

  They’d lost another warrior under suspicious circumstances. The theory was he’d been consumed by his own vial of fire, but the possession he was hunting wasn’t capable of winning a fight. The warrior’s team was adamant that nothing else would’ve stopped the warrior from doing his job and reporting back. The leader had described him as a fully trained warrior who was known to get almost brutal in his dealings on both realms.

  There was no sign of the demon, either. It’d managed to find a way out of the Mist before it could be hunted down. The loss disturbed Bryant only because it was sign that demons were becoming more organized and more skilled.

  * * *

  Sierra glared at the male talking to her. How he’d tracked her to the IT headquarters she’d set up, she didn’t know. But here he was, in the glow of her monitors, on the verge of making a threat.

  “Here’s the thing.” Enforcer Stede smiled darkly and steepled his fingers. “If you don’t, we might”—he gave a nonchalant shrug—“I don’t know… Tell your leader what you really are. Or at the very least, who you really are.”

  Sierra’s blood iced. He couldn’t know. No one knew. No one but her dad and mom. Well, there was… She shook off the thought. Impossible.

  “Bullshit.” He was bluffing. He had to be. There was no way the male could know her past.

  The smile on the sick bastard’s face was nauseating. “Is it? I’m sure at least your sister would like to know.”

  Oh. Hell. Her sister would indeed find it interesting that she wasn’t an only child. Sierra had grown up blissfully unaware until her sister was born. As for what she was—she was Numen, dammit. Her wings were a dark, murky gray. They were not black.

  “And what is it you want me to do?” Sierra studied the asshole in front of her.

  He was a high-ranking enforcer, and she didn’t like him. Those two details were the most concrete. He was average height, still several inches taller than her, slightly bigger than average build, but his demeanor all but yelled what a class A dick he was. And somehow, he found the place she kept on Earth where she housed all her gadgets.

  “Nothing much,” he replied. “The next time your team gathers at Odessa Vale’s place, I need you to make sure Director Richter arrives, too.”

  His demand made her sick. “Why?”

  He separated his hands in a shrug and put them back together in steeple formation, holding eye contact.

  “Are you going to hurt my team and the director?”

  His gaze glinted with steel. “Little angel, you have a hell of a secret. If you don’t want anyone to find out, you’ll do as I say.”

  Sierra sighed. If it was any other reason, she could’ve told Stede to go fuck himself. But turns out, she was a fucking coward. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

  Stede stood up, smoothing his shirt and slacks. “Whatever works.”

  “And my sister?”

  Stede’s steady stare captured her. “Keep her out of the way if you don’t want to see her hurt.”

  He strode out, leaving her alone in her computer den. He could come back anytime. It was a helluva situation she found herself in.

  * * *

  “Who are we waiting for?” Bryant entered the living area in the mansion.

  “Jagger is with Felicia,” Dionna reported. “I left a message on Sierra’s phone. Bronx is out talking”—Dionna gave the last word air quotes—“with Tosca.”

  Harlowe chuckled. “He’s been trying to get to her since she arrived. I give her one week before she gives in.”

  “Two,” Urban interjected.

  Harlowe shook her head, blond braid swinging. “One. She’s resisting out of pride, but Bronx is good.”

  “Perhaps he’s using it as a tactic to check up on the enforcers?” Odessa suggested.

  “Odessa,” Harlowe sighed, “you’re too nice.”

  Bryant smiled to himself. His mate saw the best in his team. And she was right. Bronx used his charm and exotic looks to get a lot of information. If it got him a lot of sex, then bonus. He wasn’t above using any skill available to him to get the job done. Using Tosca to find out what the enforcers were doing was right up Bronx’s alley.

  “All right, we’ll get started.” Bryant motioned to his team to have a seat. “This is more of a brainstorming session anyway.”

  Odessa perched beside him. Urban and Harlowe took the couch while Dionna took post across the room by the kitchen entrance.

  “We need the archmaster and the senator helping Haddock.”

  Odessa stuck her hands in her robe pockets. “It’d sure be useful to build our own human army to spy on him since we can’t get close to the club without them knowing.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cool?” Harlowe agreed. “Too bad we’d get kicked out of the realm for telling humans about us.”

  “Unless we use some that already know,” Urban suggested. The others stared at him.

  Harlowe frowned at her teammate and asked what they all wondered. “Who would that be?”

  He lifted a heavily muscled shoulder. “Not everyone that goes to Fall from Grace becomes a follower. Some of them have to know and it must scare the hell out of them. I mean, what do they do about the ones that don’t get tattooed?”

  “We could ask around other nightclubs in Vegas, try to find someone who’s gone there. Haddock’s spreading the word somehow.” Bryant pointed at Harlowe and Urban. “You two and Bronx can start on that tonight. Let’s get him in here.”

  “I’ll go grab him.” Harlowe started for the door. “I keep getting texts from Sierra. I should check ’em out.” As she disappeared around the corner and opened the door, she said, “Oh hey, director. Vale’s in the main room.”

  The director rushed around the corner, his features steeped in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Bryant asked.

  “Sierra contacted me. Said she’s worried her system has been hacked. She couldn’t get ahold of any of you.”

  Bryant was about to suggest Dionna fly to Sierra’s house when a crash echoed from the wing that used to be Odessa’s. All the warriors jerked to their feet, weapons already in hand.

  A dark form, clothed entirely in black, including a mask, wings morphed into his back, burst out of the bedroom door on the second level. From each hand he lobbed throwing knives. Several small blades were strapped to his chest, and his hands were a blur as he launched one after the other.

  Bryant and the others scattered. He wrapped his arm around Odessa as tight as a vice and rolled over the back of the sofa. She yelped but didn’t resist as they spilled over the edge.

  The director grunted. A black handle
stuck out of his white robe. A bloom of red stained his gown.

  Director Richter scurried next to the wall, getting out of the line of fire. “Get her out of here!”

  Bryant tugged Odessa toward the office when another disguised male darted out of her old room. He held a canister in each hand.

  Terror punched into him. He recognized what the canisters held. “Fire!”

  The male tossed both containers of angel fire. One canister blasted by the front door, blocking the fastest exit. Dionna’s shouted a warning from where she was crouched by a pillar. Angel fire blew out and wicked up the pillars.

  The other canister landed in the main room, inches from Urban’s feet. He’d taken cover behind the lounge chair. Diving over the sofa, an explosion of flames followed his booted feet.

  Bryant released Odessa enough to drag Urban toward him and away from the flames.

  “Here!” He kept yelling to get his team’s attention. The other men had cut off the front door and second level exits. “The office!”

  Flames spread, their peaks reaching higher by the second. Dionna lobbed daggers at the second level and sprinted by the base of the stairs toward Bryant. He caught her and whipped her through the office door.

  He fisted Urban’s shirt and shoved Odessa’s hand into his. “Get her out of here.”

  “Bryant,” she cried, but Urban overpowered her. Dionna flung open the office window. Bronx was on the other side, reaching through to help her out. Urban and Odessa followed.

  His scars were growing tight. The front door was encased in flames, and the main room was getting covered, the substance devouring everything in its path. Glass shattered in the room affected by the fires. The small vials each warrior carried was enough to destroy up to three demons. The mansion was attacked with two canisters. There would be nothing left.

  The director. Had he gotten out?

  Groaning of rock scraping against rock preceded heavy thuds that shook the entire structure. Leaving the brief reprieve of the office, he threw an arm over his face and edged along the wall to search the living area and the entrance.