Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1)

by Tricia Skinner

  “Silver?” he said, leaning closer. He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Well, well. How did this happen?”

  “Don’t touch me!” Ionie raised her defiant head. “You tried to kill me.”

  “I was hungry,” Saul said, shrugging it off. He caught her wrist before she could deliver a punch to his face.

  “Touch me again and you’ll have the Order to deal with!”

  He let his grin split his face. “I’m not worried about Heaven’s assassins, tasty girl.”

  In a fraction of a second, her face morphed from defiance to confusion. Her lips parted as if she planned to speak, but she shook her head instead. Saul studied her expression with wonder.

  “They didn’t tell you,” he said, amused.

  “What are you blabbering about, bloodsucker?”

  “Your new BFFs are assassins who hunt their own kind. They’re murderers who kill their daddies.”

  Ionie stepped back, shaking her head, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “No. You’re lying.”

  Christ, talking to this bitch made Saul’s fangs ache. Hours had passed since he last fed, yet here he was, playing with potential food. He wouldn’t risk it though.

  Can’t have Beleth in a rage if his prize died. He’d dodged that bullet before.

  “The Eternal Order, you idiot, are assassins,” Saul said. “They’re tracking my business associate, but somehow you’ve wedged yourself into their good graces. Why is that?”

  “But Jarrid said … ” Ionie wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Jarrid? “Your boyfriend from the club?” He asked. Her gaze darted away.

  Oh, yes. That towering menace and this human were sexing it up at The Church when he’d found them. At the time he’d dismissed the cloying scent of hormones. Lust was part of the club’s appeal. He rubbed his chin.

  “You’re lovers,” Saul said, leering at Ionie. She backed away, but he knew he’d hit the mark.

  The night hadn’t been a complete loss. He considered his options. With this one woman, he possessed both the deposit on his deal with the Renegade and a way to lure the nephilim. Adrenaline rushed through his cold veins, warming him deeper than a blood infusion.

  “I know someone who’s dying to meet you.” He lunged at the shocked woman before she could scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jarrid tapped his earpiece. “Tanis, I need an address for Ionie’s friend, JP. Don’t have a last name.”

  “On it.”

  The truck idled, its diesel engine rumbling like a bound stallion. Ionie was out there, somewhere. So was Beleth and his vampire lackeys. She’d be vulnerable, especially if her powers waned.

  Would she suffer the Act of Contrition? Jarrid prayed against it. He and his brethren barely tolerated the effects. Ionie wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “There’s a reporter named JP Young. Three six four Glenbrook Lane,” Tanis said over the wireless. “You’re a few blocks east of there.”

  “Have the team meet me.” He disconnected and floored the gas pedal.

  The truck lurched and sped up Gratiot Avenue. He backtracked his thoughts, reliving the sweet moments with Ionie. He touched his lower lip with his finger. The tender sensation didn’t match the soft perfection of her lush lips. A groan escaped him.

  Emotions were torture. One night of human passion and he was a mess. Jarrid tightened his grip on the steering wheel, wringing the leather with his hands. He had walked into a goddamned trap, risked his brothers lives, and lost his woman. His heart hitched in his chest. Time to man up.

  Ionie is mine.

  He’d never lose her again. When he found her, he’d spill his guts and own up to his job, the Renegade, all of it. Then he’d find a way to keep her.

  The traffic light switched to yellow, then to red. He glanced in the rearview and furrowed his brow. At two A.M. a few cars should share the road, but it was deserted. He angled his head to peek out the windshield. The light remained red.

  Come on. He glared at the traffic light, his agitation increasing. He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Jarrid slipped his right hand from the steering wheel and touched his left gun holster. He flipped the button clasp.

  “That won’t be necessary, nephilim.” Kaonos’ face appeared outside the driver’s side window.

  Jarrid rolled his eyes. “You here to wash my windows?”

  Two more angels stood in front of the truck. Jarrid flicked his gaze to the rearview. Two sets of flyboys waited behind the vehicle. Surrounded.

  He shook his head. “What do you want?”

  “You’re summoned, half-breed,” Kaonos said. A shit-eating grin cracked his face.

  A sidelong glance told Jarrid he’d need serious luck to beat four trained — and likely armed to their flight feathers — angel soldiers. He glared at the messenger. Centuries hadn’t cooled his hatred for the prick. Kaonos tried to kill him as a child, an act Tanis stopped.

  Jarrid opened the door and climb out. Three angels flanked him. “Who wants me?”

  “Who do you think?”

  One punch and Jarrid could smash the guy’s nose into his brain.

  I can dream. He relaxed his muscles. “I’m on a mission. This can wait.”

  Four swords appeared, pointed at Jarrid’s neck. He turned to stone. The angels meant business.

  “By decree of the Holy Host, Jarrid of Nephilim, you are ordered back to Heaven where you shall be judged,” Kaonos said.

  “What the hell is going on? Judged for what crime?”

  The messenger’s silver eyes brightened. “Why, the sins of your father, half-breed.”

  • • •

  Most people believed the religious propaganda of Heaven as a vast landscape of clouds dotted with golden archways and fat children playing instruments. Jarrid stole a glimpse of reality. Tall white columns separated titanium doors engraved with images of warrior angels in flight.

  He hated coming here and he never paid a casual visit. He passed through several rooms, keeping his eyes focused on the back of Kaonos’ head. Several angels uttered crude insults when Jarrid passed. His lips quirked. Some things never changed.

  A final passageway towered above the others. He ground his teeth as he approached the Directorate’s meeting chamber. The battle scene depicted in the glimmering doors served a consummate reminder of how much he’d lost centuries ago. His eyes narrowed on the tableau, burning with hatred.

  Hundreds of angels swarmed over the Earth, swords raised in attack. Below them, the upraised arms of Watcher angels, their human concubines, and their offspring — nephilim. The scene of mass murder was held as an example of the purity of Heaven’s laws. Jarrid only saw proof the angels were not benevolent beings.

  Kaonos paused at the double door. The satisfied grin plastered on his face caused Jarrid’s Grace to spark. He crammed it despite wishing he could shove his fist down the bastard’s throat.

  “Be on your best behavior, half-breed,” the angel said.

  Don’t rip his wings off. Don’t rip his wings off. Jarrid kept up the litany when the doors opened. Inside, an arced obsidian table commanded attention. Behind it sat the Directorate, Heaven’s ruling force — and The Eternal Order’s task masters.

  “Finally.” Azriel’s voice boomed across the space. “The abomination has arrived.”

  Jarrid relaxed his shoulders. He’d heard the term so many times since childhood it had lost its sting.

  “Your mission was to track and capture a Renegade,” Puriel said. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. Your lap dogs dragged me off the street while I was on his trail.”

  Six pairs of wings fluttered.

  “Watch your mouth, half-breed,” Azriel said, his tone sharp. “Have you forgotten your place?”<
br />
  “Of course not.” Jarrid bit down. His jawbone cracked.

  Puriel leaned back, yawning. “Then report before I fall asleep.”

  The room tingled with tiny pulses of energy held in check. Jarrid felt the pinpricks on his skin. There was no way he’d tell them about his beautiful reporter. One whiff of Ionie and her transformation and the ruling board would order her killed on sight. She was his. His vow to protect her sacred.

  He opened his mouth and lied. His update skipped around dates and avoided anything connecting to Ionie. He’d spew nonsense until they were satisfied.

  Long minutes passed before he finished. He stood at parade rest, arms clasped behind his back and his legs apart, and studied the angels’ guarded expressions. He’d dance in a tutu for the power to read their minds. Then Azriel smiled.

  “You’re lying, half-breed,” the angel said. “We know about the human woman.”

  Jarrid’s heartbeat stuttered.

  Don’t react, asshole. He adopted what he hoped was a casual stance, then glared at the Directorate’s lead bulldog. “How I use bait is my business.”

  “Why omit her from your report?” Puriel asked.

  Could his day get any more jacked up? He’d been caught in one lie, and he didn’t know what intel they’d gathered for this farce trial.

  How did they know? Was Ionie under surveillance?

  “I thought the human useful to lure my mark, but he didn’t bite,” he said, shrugging. “She has no importance to my mission.”

  Azriel strode across the room until the angel’s cloying fruit scent clogged Jarrid’s sinuses. Where Ionie’s had a citrus edge, like a bowl of fresh oranges, Azriel emitted a prune stench, which fit the old bastard. They glared at each other, every pretense of good behavior blasted away.

  “I believe you found a use for her.”

  Jarrid held his breath.

  “Oh yes, freak, we miss nothing.” Azriel smirked at him. “You’ve fallen farther into sin, broken Heaven’s law, and corrupted a lesser being with carnal desire.”

  Jarrid caught Puriel’s movement out the corner of his eye. The scowling angel stood up and flexed his tremendous wings. The other board members copied the move.

  “When Tanis petitioned for the lives of all nephilim children, we granted him four,” Puriel said. “You and your kindred were brought here, trained, and returned to Earth to serve Heaven’s will.”

  Jarrid’s skin tightened as if mummified. “We’ve never failed in our duties.”

  Puriel slammed his fist down. The obsidian table absorbed the impact with a thud. “You took a human as a lover!” The thick veins in Puriel’s neck pulsed like snakes under his alabaster skin. “Where is your loyalty? Your selfishness casts shame on everything The Eternal Order has achieved.”

  Jarrid’s mouth slackened. He’d never sell out his boys. Cain, Nestaron, Kasdeja, and Tanis cared for Ionie, too. They’d give their lives to keep her safe.

  She’s the epitome of innocence. Puriel had crossed the line.

  “My feelings have no bearing on the team,” Jarrid said. His voice hardened. “I’ve compromised nothing.”

  Azriel’s gloating face blocked his line of sight. “Your kind is degenerate and should be exterminated. Only that misguided mentor of yours argued to spare you.”

  When the angel’s lips brushed his ear, Jarrid bared his teeth.

  “Puriel coddled Tanis when he should have executed him,” Azriel said, whispering venom. “When I’m through, not even Heaven will remember Tanis or his revolting Order existed.”

  Jarrid’s killer instincts wanted out. What better payback than to use his angel-trained skills on such a sanctimonious dick. He struggled to retain control. His powers were no match for a room packed with Heavenly pedigrees. A mental image of him caving Azriel’s chest in with his fists before getting iced by the rest of the Directorate shouldn’t have eased his tension, but it did.

  I’d snap your neck before you could move. Be still, fool. Do nothing.

  Jarrid gaped at Azriel.

  Holy shit! You’re in my head!

  “God of All, you are mentally deficient,” the angel said. Jarrid felt a mental head shake even though Azriel’s body hadn’t moved.

  “Play along if you hope to stay alive.”

  “Are we ready to pronounce judgment?” Puriel asked.

  “I’m curious,” Azriel said. He turned to face the rest of the board. “This half-breed said he used the woman to track the Renegade. How?”

  Puriel cold eyes glanced at the angel. “Does it matter?”

  Jarrid cleared his throat and turned his attention to the Directorate. “The Renegade is connected to the human through Grace. She’s descended from his original offspring.”

  Indignant cries filled the chamber as the cabal tried to talk at once. Accusations met denials while the angels pointed fingers at each other.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Isn’t it glorious?” Jarrid heard Azriel’s deep laughter in his head. “You’ve done well.”

  “Talk sense, asshole!”

  Azriel sighed.

  “Beleth has allies here. He petitioned for a pardon, but I’d never let the traitor return. Now you’ve proven he hasn’t been completely truthful.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jarrid drowned out the bickering angels and focused. “That son of a bitch is being considered for pardon? Clean slate, all’s forgiven, rejoin the boy’s club kind of reinstatement? No goddamned way!”

  “On this singular occasion, half-breed, we agree,” Azriel said. “And don’t blaspheme. I barely tolerate your kind. Why would I allow a progenitor of your race access to our Army?”

  “I don’t care if he holds a stag party under the Pearly Gates.”

  “You should.” Azriel’s voice was heavy in Jarrid mind. “His ticket for re-admittance is proof he never fathered nephilim. Your lover is the only obstacle to his ascendency.”

  A cold sweat broke across Jarrid’s body. Ionie’s soul was tied to a psychopath. If he didn’t get back to Earth, Beleth would track her down and kill her. He scanned the room for an escape route. A throat cleared.

  “I vote we send this wretch back to his team disgraced,” Azriel said. “Let them look at him and know he failed Heaven as well as his race.”

  Puriel’s calculating gaze narrowed on Azriel. A hush filled the room.

  Jarrid’s body tensed. He didn’t know what power Puriel possessed, but he scratched mind reading off the list. He caught the mumbled ascent of the other board members. They’d reached an agreement.

  The rhythmic thump of Jarrid’s heart was like a Japanese drum, deafening in its power. Azriel offered no parting words in his head as Puriel spoke.

  “By decree of the Holy Host, Jarrid of Nephilim, you have been found guilty of breaking a covenant with Heaven.”

  Jarrid calculated how much Grace he’d need to blast a hole through the doors.

  Titanium doors. Fuck.

  “You are hereby removed from Heaven’s service.”

  “What?” Jarrid gave the board an incredulous stare, but Puriel ignored him.

  “And in the matter of Ionie Gifford … ” the angel continued, but Jarrid was barely listening.

  Sweet Jesus, the bastards knew her name this whole time. “ … you are prohibited from interacting with her. Contact the woman even once, nephilim, and you forfeit your life and hers.”

  • • •

  Time screeched to a halt after Jarrid was returned to the front gate of the Stronghold. He ran past his transported truck and slammed his hand onto the security scanner. He pushed through the door and rushed into the building.

  “Tanis!” He bounded up the stairs, bursting into the study.

  Nestaron, Cain, and Kasdeja turned, g
rim-faced and silent. He glanced at the communication orb, then at Tanis.

  “The Directorate booted me from the team,” Jarrid said. “I wanted you to hear it from me. I forgot about the angel hotline.”

  “You okay?” Leave it to Tanis to worry.

  “Yeah, I’ll deal with that later. We need to find Ionie.”

  “Sorry, Jarrid.” Tanis shook his head. “They relayed the punishment. You go near her and you’re both dead.”

  “Have you forgotten about Beleth? She’s out there, unprotected!” He glared at his brothers, his temper simmering. “Or is it cool they cut me loose? She no longer your concern?”

  “Don’t drop that steaming pile on us, man,” Kas said. “Check your shoes before sayin’ other people stink.”

  Wrong answer, bro. Jarrid moved fast. His chest pressed against the other assassin. “I don’t see you in the city searching for her!”

  Cain and Nestaron wedged them apart, but not before Kas’ eyes flared bright.

  “You made her bait!” Kas said.

  Last straw. The camel’s back broke like a motherfucker.

  Jarrid swung his fist, connecting with his brother’s jaw in a sickening crunch. His momentum hurled Cain and Nesty in opposite directions, leaving Kas exposed. Jarrid rushed forward, head down, and crashed them into Tanis’ desk. The orb exploded into shards of purple and gold.

  “Son of a bitch!” Kas rolled them over, then struck back.

  Jarrid saw the meaty fist coming. His nose throbbed as he grappled with his friend. Guilt rode him hard. You made her bait. He rolled, dragging the other nephilim, until they landed in a heap on the floor. Each reared back arms, ready to strike.

  A sharp sound pierced the chaos of the room. Jarrid squeezed his palms against his ears to block the sonic daggers. Kas, pinned under his weight, cursed as he fought the sound. Then the room fell silent.

  Nestaron sat on the desk, his legs crossed like a swami. “Finished?”

  “Damn it, Nesty. Warn me next time,” Cain said. “You didn’t have to blast all of us!”