“I think Selaphiel wants them to care. To stir them up.”
“So she can look like more of a hero when she single-handedly eliminates the threats she summoned here,” I said.
He nodded.
“Damn. She’s smart for an evil bitch. Is the council buying it?”
“Sort of. There are rumors of a citizen’s patrol forming. Some kind of resistance group.”
“Like vigilantes?”
“Yes, but they’re not targeting demons. They’re targeting SSF—higher-ups, mostly.”
“They’re coming after the ones sworn to protect them?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. The supernatural community had grown more and more restless ever since their councilman-elect had been killed. The increased demon activity had only fueled the simmering flames. I’d missed a lot of it during my training time at the Tiff, but I’d seen the news and read the reports. Supes were sick of being treated lesser than. And they were tired of the council calling all the shots.
“The chaos provides good cover and distraction. Selaphiel will focus on the other Nephilim and spinning all this to her advantage. The rest of the council will be busy overseeing the SSF’s response to the demonstrations. Raph cares about public opinion almost as much as Raguel doesn’t, so there will be plenty of conflict to hold their attention.”
“I don’t like using the public’s pain for our own gain,” I said. “They deserve better.”
“That’s what we’re going to give them.”
“Is that why you failed to mention Selaphiel can be killed?”
I couldn’t avoid the question any longer. In the darkness, Adrik’s expression hardened.
“I wasn’t keeping it from you,” he said.
“Funny. Because that’s exactly what I’d call not telling me something you know. Something that could make the difference for me surviving her vendetta against me.”
“I planned to take her on myself.”
My eyes went from narrowed in suspicion to wide with indignation. “You promised,” I hissed. “You said you wouldn’t do this alone.”
“You don’t realize what she’s capable of,” he shot back, his voice urgent now. “How easily she could end your life. I won’t let that happen even if you’re determined to always be the hero. I won’t let you die for this.”
I bit back the rant that built in my chest. Instead, I let loose with a single curse. Something creative. Something inspired by Gran.
“Dicknuggets,” I nearly yelled.
Adrik flinched.
For some reason, that made me feel better.
Fergie giggled. “Dicknugget,” she repeated.
Adrik glared at me. “Quite an example you’re setting.”
“Don’t,” I warned him. “Look, I have…feelings about you. They make me…feel things. And those feelings won’t feel good if you’re dead. Or if you start making decisions for me. I need to be on your team, okay? To be your equal.”
I spoke haltingly, and by the time I’d finished, my heart raced with more anxiety than Selaphiel’s murder attempts had given me.
Adrik didn’t answer. Probably, I’d said the word “feelings” one too many times.
I stared at Fergie, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“I should go.”
I turned to leave, half-considering the idea of shapeshifting into a pile of goo and melting into a crack on the sidewalk.
If only.
But Adrik’s hand on my arm stopped me.
I turned back.
“Gem.”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his eyes. His expression swirled with emotions I couldn’t begin to name.
My stomach swirled with butterflies.
“I … have feelings too,” he said finally, and I had to mentally threaten my kneecaps with certain death if they buckled on me now.
“Good ones or…?”
I had to know.
His lips quirked. “Good ones,” he assured me. “Very good ones. And because of those feelings, I can’t help but want to protect you.” His gaze seemed to pierce straight through to my soul. In that moment, I knew for sure he cared nothing for the appearance of the body I’d borrowed. Adrik saw me. Gem. No one else. “Can you understand that?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. When I did, it shook. “I feel the same about you,” I said, breathless.
“Then you understand that one of the threats to your wellbeing is me.”
I knew what he meant. The whole killer-sex situation. But when he looked at me like that and professed his feelings, how was I supposed to care that his magical dick could actually end me?
Our eyes held.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Adrik leaned in, and the air between us crackled with his Nephilim energy.
Death-by-Neph-tongue seemed like a better way to go. My ovaries, at least, had made their peace with it.
“Delishus dicknugget.”
Fergie’s tiny voice rang out, shattering the tension.
We both leaned away, and I shot her a glare. “Clam-jam,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?” Adrik asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly then cleared my throat, trying to remember the details of actual reality. Me, Gem. Him, Adrik. Oh, and my mission tonight involved a certain warlock-for-hire that destroyed the mood worse than any baby muttering curse words ever could.
“So, here’s what we’re doing tonight,” I said and quickly told Adrik the plan.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“What does the panther say?”
“He hates it too, but he owes me.”
“For killing the first warlock.”
“Exactly.”
“He’s reckless. I don’t trust him anymore.”
My heart ached a bit as I admitted, “Neither do I.”
Jax telling me about his childhood had only made him more unpredictable. A fact I’d kept to myself during his storytime. I would keep his secrets, but none of it let him off the hook for what he’d done to Rourke. Or what he might do next.
“This warlock you’re going to see, is he a threat?”
I snorted. “Only to the ladies.”
“That’s why you chose this body.”
I sighed. “She’s a girl I knew from the race circuit. Someone he’d go for.”
Adrik didn’t respond.
I reached for Fergie and smoothed the peach fuzz on her head. “I shouldn’t be long, but if she gets hungry, gummy-anything is her favorite. Mike and Ikes in a pinch, obviously.” I pinned the little monster with what I hoped was a lecturing look and added, “And no biting or trying to eat anything that’s still alive.”
“Gem, it’ll be fine.”
His tone, and the sound of my name from his lips, calmed me.
I blew out a breath, nodding. “Right. Okay.” I met his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Just be careful.”
I snorted. “Z wouldn’t hurt me. If anything, I might hurt him.”
His expression gave nothing away, but his tone hardened. “If he threatens you at all—”
“Jax and Milo will be with me,” I assured him.
He didn’t answer. Though my mention of Jax didn’t seem to calm him much.
“I’ll call you once we’re finished,” I said, and before I could second-guess myself, I reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I owe you,” I added, glancing at Fergie and rubbing her head affectionately.
I turned and began walking away, but not before I heard, “I’ll come for my payment soon.”
Chapter Twelve
“How’d it go with Rourke the peniscork?”
I jumped, startled at the sudden break in the silence. A few pedestrians gave me the side-eye, but I ignored them and kept walking.
“Angel balls, Gran. You scared the shit out of me.”
“How do you think I feel? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and
I track you down to find you looking like the ghost of Adelaide Montgomery.”
“Who is Adelaide Montgomery?” I asked.
“She was senior prom queen in my high school. Voted most likely to become a famous actress. After three kids, her curves got away from her, and she went under the knife and never came out again.”
I shot her a look that I could only hope contained the same amount of ire my normal face would have. Expressing my emotions from a face that wasn’t mine was weird. “Are you saying she died having plastic surgery?”
Even with her tiny June bug eyes, I could feel Gran’s gaze sweeping over my too-perfect cleavage and wrinkle-free face.
“I’m saying you look like Adelaide did at her wake. By then, half her lips had come from her ass.”
I shook my head, refocusing on my surroundings as I continued to click-click along the quiet street. Angel balls, these heels were killing me.
“How did you even know it was me?” I asked.
“Please.” She snorted. “I’d know you if you took the form of a cow’s cud, girl. You’re part of me.”
I decided not to delve too deeply into the cud comment.
“You givin’ me the silent treatment then?” she asked a moment later.
I sighed. “No, Gran. I just need to focus.”
“Ohh, you’re on a mission.” She buzzed along a little faster now, giving me the side-eye. “Well, hopefully, the goal isn’t to blend in.”
I scowled. “Stop being judgy. I’m sure the girl whose skin I’m copying is very nice.”
Gran snorted. “Right. That’s what guys look for in girls who wear their nipples like two brooches. Nice.”
I huffed and went back to scanning the passers-by for any kind of threat—or recognition. Since leaving Fergie with Adrik, I’d already run into two different protests, each one glamoured to look like a human civil rights demonstration. In reality, they’d been crowds of supes marching for their right to hate on the SSF and its asshole council.
If I hadn’t been a fugitive, I would have marched with them. Considering the circumstances, I opted to go around the large assemblies. It took longer, but it kept me from being noticed. A reroute that had also shown me the aftermath of three different demon battles. Humans had to know something was wrong. Even with glamours and headlines that claimed natural disasters or human-on-human violence, the damage was everywhere these days.
Jax had worried about the exposure of moving around so freely, but out of the three of us, I wasn’t the one they’d spot. Not when I could borrow forms easier than Gran borrowed trouble.
“This isn’t your fight, Gran. You should go home. Be with Mom. Or your friends.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Her wings buzzed, and she surged forward, only to curve around and come to a stop right in front of my face. I came to a halt to avoid being rammed in the forehead by her bug body.
“What the—”
“Listen here, young lady.” If hands-on-hips was a tone of voice, that would be Gran’s current vibe. “If you think for one cotton pickin’ second that I intend to go gallivanting about my life while you’re out here risking your neck to save the world, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“I’m not saving the world,” I said irritably, mostly because, out of everything she’d just said, it was the easiest thing to argue about. Or understand.
But Gran snorted. “Of course you are. That Neph-heifer plans to unleash enough demons to send us into the apocalypse, and you’re the one who’s going to stop her. My grandbaby.”
She drew herself up, and while June bugs didn’t have chests, per se, I felt like Gran had just puffed hers out.
“I’m real proud of you, baby girl. I want you to know that.”
“Thanks.”
Ugh. She was making it harder and harder to be pissed at her.
“So, what’s the plan?” She buzzed around so we were shoulder to shoulder again, and I started walking again.
“It’s kind of complicated,” I said.
“I got time.”
While we walked, I told her what had happened with Rourke’s interrogation and Raphziel’s insider information. Right down to our plan to cast an illusion spell that would hopefully trick Selaphiel into thinking we’d destroyed heaven.
All so we could hopefully kill an unkillable angel.
When I was done, Gran shook her head. “Dickburger, that’s a ballsy plan.”
“We have to do something,” I said, ready to argue.
But she cackled. “Oh, I don’t mean about Selaphiel. That bitch has got to go down, and we might as well try trickin’ her ass. I’m talking about this.” She gestured to my current form. “You. And your current destination.”
My stomach tightened at her reminder. “Z’s one of the best warlocks in the city. And he’s the only one I know who can help us.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that or else you wouldn’t have volunteered the information. Speaking of which, where’s your harem, anyway?”
“Jax and Milo went ahead to scout the place first. Make sure he’s home.”
“You sure your bloodthirsty alpha can keep his canines to himself until you get there?”
I shot her a look.
“Milo texted me,” she explained.
Of course, he did.
“He’ll behave,” I said.
She merely snorted. “And your Nephilim?”
“He’s keeping tabs on Selaphiel for us. And babysitting.”
She whipped her gaze to mine. “He’s watching your demon-child?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“The one you share with another male?”
“Gran, I know it’s hard to believe,” I said, “But Jax isn’t Fergie’s real father.”
Gran tsked, ignoring my sarcasm. “That Neph must really like you.”
I didn’t answer.
But I couldn’t help remembering the charged almost-kiss we’d shared in the park. Or the way he’d admitted to having feelings for me too. In the back of my mind, I knew Adrik and I colliding could very possibly kill me just as easily as Selaphiel could. I didn’t have an easy solution for that predicament. But if my heated loins were any indication, I’d apparently adopted a collide-first-burn-later strategy for that.
“And your body of choice?” Gran asked, yanking me back to the mission at hand.
“Just someone Z knows,” I muttered.
“I see. And did any of your harem check on her? Make sure Z doesn’t already have you in his bed?” She snickered. “Wouldn’t that be some shit? Have his current booty call show up outside the door ready to go again before he’s even finished with her?”
Her laugh turned to more of a cackle then a wheeze. “He’d probably think he wet-dreamed the whole thing. Lawdy mercy.” By the time she’d quieted, she was crying.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“You’re not wrong there.” She finally pulled herself together. “So, how long do you think your harem of sexy-boys are going to let you put yourself in danger to take down the Neph-heifer?”
I shrugged. “Until someone else comes up with a better plan.”
Or until Adrik got Selaphiel alone and decided to take care of her himself. I dared him to try. I’d kick his ass, burning loins or no.
“Hmm,” Gran said, and when she didn’t elaborate, I called the silence a victory and kept walking.
Thirty minutes later, I finally turned the last corner, and my destination came into view. My legs were burning, my toes screaming at me from the long distance I’d covered in these heels. At least the dress was short enough to allow airflow. Several times, I considered calling for a car. But in the end, I opted to walk the entire way here rather than risk a cab that could trace us. Besides, I couldn’t trust Gran to keep quiet long enough to maintain our cover with a human driver. Even now, she sat perched on the rim of the handbag I’d bought from a street vendor along the way. A bag I’d filled with bricks just in case Z somehow recognized me th
rough the disguise I’d chosen.
I’d already told Milo and Jax—especially Jax—that physical violence wasn’t an option. Launching a brick through his window, though. That was a power move every girl—supe or human—could get behind.
Then again, with a cup size like this one, he wasn’t going to be looking too closely at anything else. Or probably hear a word I said either.
“Well. There it is.” I stopped far enough out of view of the house just in case Z didn’t have anything better to do than peer out his windows.
“Looks like a shithole,” Gran said with barely a glance at it.
I didn’t respond because the truth was Z’s townhouse was actually sort of nice. A result, I’d later learned, of the cleaning lady he let in once a week. Z was anal about presentation. He cared much more for what people saw than what was really there. Something I was counting on when it came to my current disguise. A master warlock wouldn’t see through this disguise for long.
“Exes are best left in the past,” Gran added when I didn’t respond.
“Is that your way of telling me you don’t approve of Mom and Raphziel either?”
“Raph isn’t her ex,” Gran protested.
“Fine, but he’s had a thing for her for years. And don’t try to tell me I’m wrong about that. You saw him at the funeral.”
“I wanted to burn his balls off that day,” she admitted. “Sure beats what we’re doing now.”
I shot her a look. “If you didn’t like the plan, you didn’t have to come.”
In fact, I explicitly remembered asking her not to.
But Gran never did listen and seemed even more determined to follow me around now that I was angry at her.
“Like I said, a terrible idea,” Gran repeated, “that I support wholeheartedly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on.”
On three-inch heels, I marched up the front walk toward our destination. A sliver of moon hung low, offering a faint glow that illuminated the glamour of the townhouse I aimed for now. Z had always been a bit of an artist, and so, through the glamour, I would have recognized his house even without the address I still had memorized.
Windowsills trimmed in purple lights and a stone wall with skull-and-crossbones designs hanging from the ledge advertised Z as the “witch doctor warlock” of New Orleans.
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