Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1)

by Tricia Skinner

“Okay, I’ll buy your story, but your boy showed up with one of my articles in his hands. He won’t tell me what his super-secret mission is or how my stories can help.”

  Tanis gave Jarrid a sideways glance. “Crime involves emotions we don’t experience. He’s correct. We can’t reveal the mission, but I can tell you your cooperation is necessary for its success.”

  She mulled over his words, worrying her lower lip. A reaction, Tanis noted, which drew Jarrid’s attention.

  “Criminals have various reasons why they do what they do,” she said. “It all comes down to one person wanting power over another and it’s never pretty. Crime is one of the worst displays of human behavior. Not sure what more I can dig up that wasn’t in the stories you’ve seen.”

  “We appreciate your help,” Tanis said. “Jarrid is a capable … observer. What he learns, the rest of us will too.”

  “He could use a few lessons in humor.” Ionie frowned up at Jarrid. The assassin frowned back.

  Cain chuckled under his breath.

  “Jarrid’s the brooding one,” Tanis said. “I’m sure he’ll learn a lot from you, if you’re patient.”

  “Or you can hit him with a brick,” Cain said. “I’ve had a shitload of laughs doing that.”

  Jarrid growled at the other nephilim. “I’m going to kick your ass, Cain.”

  “See, no humor at all,” Ionie said, gesturing between the two brothers.

  Tanis grinned. He liked her. Surrounded by two overgrown boys and an angel, she didn’t hold her tongue. Her race was weak, but she had strength. How would she hold up against a Renegade? The thought disturbed him. He wanted to catch the bastard without involving this innocent, but they only knew she was a target. Well, she was with The Order now, and nothing on Earth was strong enough to take them on.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Saul nudged the loose concrete with his boot. His brain was numb after babysitting the latest contender in the Renegade’s search. Plus, his hunger was riding him harder than a bronco buster. He slicked his tongue over his aching gums and raised his head. The woman dangling from a hook in the ceiling would make a tasty appetizer.

  Dilated green eyes stared back at him as if a glance might convince him to free her. Saul followed the wet trail of tears down her cheeks to her neckline. His second row of fangs descended. He wanted to drain her on the spot, but he resisted the urge as he had when he had grabbed her. Plus Beleth would own his ass.

  Saul held a grudging respect for the Renegade. The fallen angel could burn a man inside out. Neat trick. He preferred his own style of discipline. A knife to the gut. Ripped out vocal cords. The vampire gang feared Saul and remained loyal. Soon, the rest of Detroit would follow.

  He crossed the factory floor until he stood within a breath of the woman. He reached out to touch her, but she recoiled.

  Amusing. “One small test and you’re done.”

  “Please, let me go. I want to go home. I won’t say anything to anybody.” Her lips quivered.

  Terror. An aphrodisiac for his senses.

  “Sshh.” Saul smoothed her chestnut hair from her round face. He caught the memory of her name. “You won’t be here long, Veronica. I promise.”

  He leaned forward, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. God, she smelled delicious. Humans always did. The whole race was a walking, talking, banquet on legs. Beleth better show soon or he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions. A man had to eat.

  “Is this what you’ve brought me?”

  Saul spun at the question and faced his partner. Beleth wore his usual black-on-black ensemble of loose-fitting pants and buttoned shirt. Under his sport coat, there was enough fire power to take down a rhino. His black wings folded against his back. Saul bent his head in a submissive bow. “I found her outside the university library.”

  The angel’s face twisted with skepticism. He remained where he was. “Why take her rather than another?”

  “Her scent drew me like you said.”

  “Hmm. Let’s see if your olfactory organs are correct.” Beleth sauntered over to the shivering woman and grabbed her jaw. He stared into her eyes without a hint of emotion on his pale face.

  Saul knew what came next. The awareness spiked his hunger off the scale.

  The angel closed his eyes and a glow arose from his skin. Beleth’s power discharged, spearing Veronica with unnatural energy. The Renegade’s Grace swirled into her limbs, lighting her from within, her body shaking and twisting under the assault. Her ravaged screams, the sound of an animal being flayed alive, rolled through the abandoned factory.

  This was a terrible power, beyond any Saul had witnessed in three hundred years. The angel shuddered with strain, a sheen of sweat breaking through his pores.

  Then came the stench. Burning flesh. Liquefied organs. Hair, muscles, bones. Everything smoking, turning to ash. Saul’s hand flew to his nose in a vain attempt to block the sickening odor. Veronica’s fair skin darkened and welted. Seconds ticked by. The welts ruptured into oozing sores. The angel held her, regardless of the muck, his hand tight around her throat and his eyes the color of pitch.

  Soon, no further sounds came from the fried vocal cords. Her mouth stayed opened, her head thrown back in an eternal, soundless cry.

  Revulsion wracked Saul. What a fucked up way to bite it.

  All the wasted blood. There wouldn’t be a drop left in her when Beleth finished. He didn’t have to wait long. With a disgusted flick of his wrist, his ally flung the smoldering corpse away. It hit the wall with a crunch.

  The Renegade turned his angry face to him. “She’s not mine. You’ve failed again.”

  Saul sank to his knees. “She was marked. Her scent … .”

  “Another’s taint, you fool. This is the fourth time you’ve brought me a worthless human!”

  Beleth treaded over to where he knelt. Saul considered grabbing the gun tucked at his back. Would he get a shot off before the angel smoked him?

  “Go ahead, ally,” Beleth said. “Move against me so I can rip the life from your foul body.”

  Shit, shit, shit. “I’m not stupid.”

  “You are, but you enjoy living too much to risk the pain I would deliver. I would make you linger on this side of death until you prayed for it.”

  Saul’s mouth clamped shut and he cleared his head of acts of rebellion. Either Beleth could read his mind, or the asshole could divine his intentions as if he’d spoken them out loud. He asked the question, yet dreaded the reply. “What happens now?”

  “What’s the human expression?” Beleth asked, tapping his lip with a bony finger. “Three strikes, you’re out?”

  Saul flinched but kept his lips pinned together.

  “One more mistake, vampire. The woman I want is a Scribe of some kind. You’ll bring me another, and if she isn’t the right one, you’ll share her fate.”

  “You ask for the impossible,” Saul said. “My men canvas the city, but there are too many possibilities.”

  A sudden blast comparable to a Mack truck punched into his chest, sending him flying back into a row of rusted storage containers. Then an invisible force seized his body and yanked him from the floor. He groaned, his legs dangling in mid-air.

  Beleth glared up at him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, dog. I want results. You have one chance to bring me the correct woman, or I will turn you to ash.”

  If vampires had bodily functions Saul knew he’d be shitting his pants. His pained reply came out in a wheeze. “I won’t fail again.”

  With an oath, the enraged angel released him. Saul dropped to the ground, gasping.

  “See you don’t, leach,” Beleth said, gliding toward the door. “I don’t believe in mercy.”

  He didn’t move until his ears picked up the distant flapping of wings. He wrapped an arm around his t
hrobbing midsection, certain the asshole had broken several ribs. He pushed off the ground and looked around. Veronica’s husk lay crumpled where it had fallen. The charred remains would require DNA scans to identify the victim. Saul rubbed his face before pulling out a cellular phone.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Body dump,” Saul said. “Pick an interesting location this time. The church picnic was lame.”

  He flipped the phone closed. His boys would handle the cleanup. What he needed was a warm vein to get rid of the damage the Renegade caused. Working for angels was a hazardous job. He needed to cover his back. Most of all, he needed a sure thing from his search, or he’d end up worse off than the chick in the corner.

  Saul limped past the body and out the door. He slid behind the wheel of his BMW and floored the gas pedal. Somewhere in Detroit was a woman wanted by a Renegade angel. Whoever the reporter was, she was about to wish she’d never been born. That he’d guarantee.

  • • •

  Jarrid left Ionie in the Think Tank and followed Tanis to his study.

  “They’re calling in,” the angel said.

  The Directorate never let the Order go a day without some kind of summons. Jarrid swore under his breath as he paced the room, crushing a path into the antique rug. The leaders of Heaven enjoyed meddling.

  Tanis retrieved the orb, a celestial communication device. Jarrid listened while his friend recited a string of Aramaic to tune the device to receive vibrations from the Directorate’s main hub.

  “You’ve kept us waiting. Report.” The disembodied voice belonged to Azriel, head asshole of the governing body. A rush of air escaped Jarrid’s lips. God of All, he hated dealing with the guy. Azriel wasn’t a fan of the Order, especially since Tanis stood up to him eons ago and saved the lives of every member.

  “I was waiting for Jarrid to take part,” Tanis said. “He’s received intel of a Renegade close by.”

  Murmurs filled the room. “Why was this information not relayed sooner?”

  “He arrived only moments ago,” Tanis said with a wink. Jarrid hacked a cough to cover his laugh. Leave it to the truth diviner to lie through his teeth. For once he was glad the orb could only send voice and not visuals.

  “Then report.” Azriel, always so patient and accommodating. Jarrid flipped his middle finger. Angels had an absurd ideal about timeliness. He wondered if Heaven had alarm clocks shoved up every feathered crevice.

  “The target I iced mentioned seeing an angel in the city,” Jarrid said.

  “What made the target’s information reliable?”

  “The pointy end of a dagger tends to loosen tongues,” he said. “Before I carried out his sentence, the Elf volunteered the info.”

  “Was there more?” The question came from Puriel. The angel was a wild card. He neither supported, nor denounced, the nephilim’s role in Heaven. Jarrid didn’t trust him. Puriel’s motivations were too hazy.

  “No,” Tanis said. “I have the team searching for his Grace trail. It shouldn’t take long before he uses his powers. If we’re in range when he does, we’ll take him down.”

  More murmurs filled the room. The din faded and Azriel spoke up. “We will assign the task to one of our officers.”

  Over my bloated corpse.

  “We can handle this alone,” Jarrid said, his tone glacial.

  “Oh? Is there something you’d like to share, half-breed?” Azriel’s voice snaked through the orb, slick with contempt. Jarrid crushed the air in a tight fist. He wished — not for the first time — he could pluck the feathers off the angel’s wings with a dagger.

  “Tanis is right,” he said, the words muffled by the pounding in his ears. “When the Renegade uses his Grace we’ll triangulate and catch him. We know the city better than your officers. We’ll save time on our own.”

  Another wave of conversation drifted through the orb as the Directorate debated. Tanis shot him a watch-your-ass warning glare. They both knew what was at stake. If Jarrid played this wrong, the board would send one of their loyal lackeys to secure the outlaw. Such an outcome would flatline his plans.

  “We are in agreement,” Puriel said. “The Order has fourteen days to locate the target and bring him to us.”

  Relief at the decision nearly crushed Jarrid.

  Holy shit. He’d landed the assignment.

  “Listen well, half-breed.” Azriel’s cold tone captured his full attention. “A high value assignment turned over to the likes of you is against everything I believe. The board seems to have a weak spot for lost causes. I do not. You will bring us the Renegade in two weeks, or you will lose your place as Heaven’s servant.”

  Tanis stiffened next to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I would think our decision is clear,” Azriel said. “If the nephilim fails, he’ll be discharged from The Order.”

  • • •

  The call ended. Tanis placed the orb in its felt lined box and closed the lid. He slid it on a shelf then turned to regard the man who stood shell-shocked beside him. Jarrid’s usual fierce demeanor was replaced with uncertainty. The expression wasn’t one Tanis was used to seeing from any of his men, and certainly not the Order’s most prolific assassin.

  He eased himself into his desk chair, leaving Jarrid to stand alone. The room’s light caught the harsh angles of his son’s face. To Tanis, it reminded him of the child he’d rescued from death centuries before. He didn’t resist the memories when they surfaced.

  Angels swarmed over the tiny village, an army in glorious white and gold. Tanis spotted the boy after he’d landed in the backfields. From a distance, the child looked human. His skinny arms and legs seemed insufficient to support the weight of his body, but the boy’s refusal to run proved he was braver than any normal child. Tanis stalked toward him, two angel soldiers at his side, and was surprised when the child crouched into an attack position.

  One of his soldiers barked a laugh. The other spat a curse and unsheathed his sword. The weapon hissed out of the scabbard, making the boy swallow. Yet he didn’t budge from his position. All around, cries filtered into the open air. The village was home to humans and Watchers who’d turned their backs on Heaven’s laws. Standing as close as he was, Tanis could see the child’s silver eyes shimmer. Nephilim.

  He reviewed his orders. All Watchers were to be taken back to Heaven for punishment while their offspring and concubines were put to the sword. In villages around the world, the same scene played itself out. Now, it was his turn to enact Heaven’s commandment.

  “Why do we wait?” Kaonos asked in Aramaic. “The abomination thinks to defy us.”

  Tanis looked hard at the boy who held a piece of wood in one clenched hand and made a fist with the other. The child planned to fight them, perhaps knowing why they’d come. This defiance moved him. “What is your name, child?”

  The boy studied him. “I won’t let you hurt my mother.”

  Surprised, Tanis stepped back and again considered the tiny fighter. He sought to protect his mother. The boy owned a noble heart and a warrior’s soul. Two more traits he respected.

  “You are nephilim,” he said. One of his soldiers spat at the ground.

  “I am,” the boy said, his tone defiant. “I will not allow you to hurt my mother.”

  Kaonos threw his head back on a laugh. “The whore will get what’s coming to her, be sure of that!”

  The boy moved at inhuman speed. His wooden weapon flashed out, connecting with Kaonos’ unprotected head before Tanis could stop the attack. The soldier bellowed in rage, a trickle of blood sliding down his left temple. With a primal growl, Kaonos grabbed the boy by the throat and started to squeeze.

  A woman with waist-length brown-black hair rushed out of a nearby shed. “Jarrid!”

  Aean grabbed her. Tanis marked the same dark hair and high cheekbones.
Her sun-kissed skin was a shade lighter than the boy’s, but both resembled each other.

  “He’s done nothing wrong,” she cried. “He is an innocent.”

  “This thing is a demon spawn, and you are the whore of a Renegade,” Aean said, his voice fueled by malice.

  The woman turned pleading eyes on Kaonos, and then on Tanis. “I sinned. He did not. Please, masters of Heaven, spare my son. I freely give my life for his. Please, I beg you for mercy!”

  Tanis had heard the pleas of countless men and demons during his service to Heaven. None moved him to act against his duty. Why should he feel anything for her and the boy? He looked at the child still struggling in Kaonos’ hold, his eyes focused only on the mother’s tear streaked face.

  He felt … wrong. Throw him into the pits of Hell and make him battle hell spawn with his bare hands and he would do so without an afterthought. Send him to murder women and children … .

  “Release him.”

  Kaonos and Aean gasped.

  “What? Do you mean to disobey our orders?” Kaonos sounded incredulous. The boy fell to the hard-packed earth.

  Tanis’ wings flared wide and he knew the cold stare he leveled on the soldier would silence further questions. The woman stumbled to the boy’s side and scooped him into her trembling arms. She kissed her son, smoothing back his wild hair, while she whispered soothing words in his ear. In return, the boy — Jarrid — wrapped his thin arms around his mother in a fierce embrace while the death squad watched.

  “Earth to Tanis.” He looked up to find Jarrid standing near him, arms crossed over his broad chest. Gone was the gangly youth who dared stand up to seasoned fighters. Yes, they’d come a very long way since their first meeting.

  “You fuck up and you’re booted from the bubblegum gang,” Tanis said.

  “Guess I won’t fuck up.”

  “If they catch wind of what you’re up to, they’ll rip out your Grace one sliver at a time.”

  Jarrid gave a lazy shrug and moved to the door. Whatever doubt his son had felt earlier was gone. The man’s spine was straight, his gait sure.