by Deanna Chase
I silently admired the hex a moment. It was just amazing. I couldn’t believe the amount of skill that had gone into creating it, let alone the immense power behind it. What angel could possibly have power to just toss into a hex like this? This angel was way out of my league. Way out of any demon’s league. The crafting, the level of detail and intricacy of the thing was awe inspiring. I could feel the power humming from it. The whole thing stirred something deep within me. Something beyond admiration. I shook my head trying to clear it of the fascination I felt contemplating this magnificent work of art and its equally magnificent creator.
“In short, it’s a protective hex,” I told the others. “It guards against supposedly evil spirits, which is why it practically fried me into the ground. I’ve seen witches do this in the past, but it’s not been as powerful and doesn’t really do much to keep me out. Those are mainly to keep bad intentioned humans out and as good luck charms. Plus, theirs are visual since the makers are at least mostly human and the protection extends against evil humans who would need to see the warning.”
“Why would Althean put a protective hex on the house of a man he was about to kill?” Candy asked, bewildered. “Why bother to protect him against evil spirits when he’s planning to kill him in the next day or two? Does he want to make sure no one else gets him first?”
“I’m pretty sure this hex would work against angels as well as my kind and many others. The way it’s formulated and how it’s activated would keep any angel except the one who placed it from touching the house, and that extends directly to the owner inside or within a certain range outside the house.” I turned to Craig. “You could be anywhere within a thirty foot radius, and be totally safe from evil intent against your person, and be safe within your house even if there is no active evil intent. I can stand here and talk to you, but I can’t enter your house. And if I decided to do you harm close to your house, the hex would extend out to me. Best of all, Althean won’t be able to touch you or enter your house, because it’s Gregory who placed this hex.”
TaDa! I’d freaked them out with my arm sawing, and now I’d wowed them with my folkloric knowledge. Better not be any more talk of finding someone “better” or I’d have to start chewing limbs and fucking asses.
“Gregory?” Candy looked lost. “Why would he do this? If this is such a powerful and significant gift, then what has Craig done to deserve such protection?”
“I think it’s less about Craig personally, and more about trapping Althean,” I said. “Gregory knows he’s got a problem on his hands. An escalating problem. And he’s in charge of these enforcing angels. He’s the top dog. It reflects badly on him to have Althean running amok, wiping out innocents. He’s got to get him now before there’s notice from his higher–ups, or perhaps before you all feel there’s nothing left to lose and there’s a werewolf rebellion. Think, we’ve got a couple in Hawaii for two weeks. That leaves Craig and Robinson. He can’t be two places at once to catch his naughty boy, so he’s safeguarded one, essentially herding Althean toward Robinson. And Robinson isn’t due back until late tonight or tomorrow which gives him some time to plan and set a trap.”
“So what do we do now?” Wyatt asked.
“I’d propose we do the same. Watch Robinson’s to see what Gregory does, then be there when Althean makes his move.”
Hopefully, Gregory wouldn’t be there, otherwise there would be no move for me to make. No way I was going up against that angel. If he showed up, I’d leave him to deal with Althean. If this hex was any indication, he had enough power to kill me with the flick of a pinky. I was going to make sure I stayed out of the range of that pinky. Even if that meant abandoning Wyatt along with Candy and her weregeld and racing for the nearest gate.
Chapter Thirteen
Wyatt and Candy headed over to Robinson’s house to watch for angel activity, while I drove back to the motel to put on some clothing. Blood and bits of my flesh had splattered on the Tinkerbell shirt. I felt it was a good look for her, and Wyatt commented that I looked like I’d been to a Disney themed Gwar concert. Cool idea, but I wanted to get into something less tent like. Plus I was tasked with bringing coffee and donuts.
I didn’t want to wear my new Juicy shirt and get it blood covered in some battle. Plus, my street cred was fragile enough without my prancing around proclaiming my juiciness. Thankfully, no one had stolen my t–shirt and jeans from the motel washer. I threw Tinkerbell in the washer, equally confident that no one would steal her either, and proceeded to wait for my choice of clothing to dry. I took my time, grabbing a shower and drying my hair. Remembering the wet hair hanging in my face yesterday, I pulled it into my usual pony tail. Hopefully that would keep it contained and out of my eyes. I walked naked to get my clothes out of the dryer since Candy wasn’t there to yell at me, and then headed for coffee and donuts. I really didn’t need to get there too early. Robinson wasn’t home, so we weren’t expecting any action from Althean. He probably wouldn’t even try to scout it out until later in the day. Plus, I really wanted to avoid my own personal nemesis, Gregory, who might come to set his own trap and sense me nearby in the process.
The whole stake out thing was boring to the nth degree, sitting there, eating donuts and drinking coffee until I was ready to squirm out of my skin from the sugar and caffeine high. We sat for hours, crouched in the hedgerows, waiting for anything to show up. I played games on my cell phone until the battery was almost dead, then took twigs and leaves and made a series of obstacles for increasingly frustrated and anxious ants.
Finally, just as I was ready to call and have pizza delivered, someone walked up the driveway. Wahoo! Action time! We couldn’t see clearly who it was, so I inched along the hedgerow and slowly crawled up behind him pulling my energy up. It was Craig. What a letdown. He was lucky that he heard me with his superior hearing and turned around before I blasted him into bits. I was so disappointed that I almost blasted him anyway. Anything would be more entertaining than another few hours pestering ants behind a bush.
Craig was shaking, his eyes big with fear. And that’s saying a lot for a werewolf if Candy were anything to compare by. “An angel came by my house again. I don’t care if there’s a hex, I’m not staying there.”
“Was it the same angel as before, or a different one?” I asked as Candy and Wyatt came from their cover behind a huge forsythia.
“I don’t know. They all look the same to me. It might have been the same one, or it could have been the killer. I’m not staying there. I’d feel more safe with a demon who saws her own arm off.”
I wasn’t sure that was a compliment. I turned to the others. Candy was frowning at Craig in disapproval. Wyatt looked relieved. I couldn’t stand hours, possibly all night, of this stake out business. I would go insane if this stretched on with nothing to do but sit and wait.
“Look, I can’t take much more of this hovering around with nothing to do,” I told the three of them. “I’m an action kind of girl. And I want a beer. I’m going to break into this guy’s house and find some booze, and maybe some reading material, anything to entertain me until I can kill something.”
I walked over to the door and jimmied the lock in my own special way as Candy argued with Craig regarding his safety choices. Wyatt watched them for a moment then followed me in.
Robinson’s tiny box of a house had a small living room, an eat–in kitchen, and a ridiculously narrow hallway leading to two tiny bedrooms. I availed myself of the bathroom and was happy to snag a few naked girl magazines. Too bad there weren’t any guy ones, but I was thinking that maybe werewolves were strictly heterosexual. I wasn’t, so I’d be happy enough with the girly ones. I also saw some car magazines and a People. I grabbed them too thinking Candy might appreciate some reading material herself.
I was bored and feeling nosy, so I looked through the guy’s bedroom. Lots of flannel, and belts with a variety of heavy, picturesque belt buckles. I’ll bet this guy had an axe in his garage. Whole lot of condoms in the un
derwear drawer with the tighty whities. I checked the expiration date on them. A few were pretty old. I opened one up for the heck of it and it was a bit dried out. Very careless of him. I wondered who Robinson was getting it on with? He was pretty restricted in his sexual partners with the existence contract. And with the state of those condoms, he’d not just be violating the sex part, but the breeding part also if he were fucking humans. I glanced again at the girly mags and wondered if jacking off to photos of human women would violate the contract. Stupid angels.
The kitchen revealed that Robinson didn’t eat much. Or maybe he wasn’t home enough to bother with stocking up on groceries. There were some cans of tuna, white beans, and stewed tomatoes along with an almost empty bag of stale chips. Jackpot in the fridge though. It was full of beer. Coors Light, but hey I wasn’t going to be picky about stolen beer. It wasn’t really stealing anyway. I was going to save the guy’s ass, so he owed me some beer. I glanced out the window and saw Candy still arguing with Craig. She waved her finger at him, then walked out of view. I could imagine the conversation now: “Don’t you walk away from me, young man.”
Wyatt popped open two beers, handed me one and took one back to the bathroom, snagging a magazine out of my hands. There are some things he evidently didn’t want to do out in an open field. I hopped up on the counter and sat there drinking my beer. I’d wait for Wyatt, grab a six–pack, or maybe a twelve–pack, and we’d head back to our comfortable spot behind the bushes.
I’d finished my beer, started on a second and was beginning to wonder what the hell was taking Wyatt so long. I’m a get it done kinda girl. Maybe he was at a particularly engrossing part of the magazine and just needed to finish the article. Right. I hopped down from the counter and was about to head over when a boom shook the house practically knocking me off my feet. What the fuck? Did a truck just come through the living room wall or what? I ran to the front of the house, which was all of five steps, and saw a blur of light. The front door was split and sideways on its hinges, Candy lay in a bloody heap by the door. The light emanated from an angel, who had a limp Craig in the air as he shot some kind of energy through him. Craig looked a lot like a colander at that moment. I pulled up my raw energy and sent a blast at the angel. It would fry Craig too, but he was probably dead anyway.
Craig dropped to the floor as the angel flew back from the blast, smashing through drywall and wall joists into the master bedroom. He narrowly missed Wyatt, who ran down the hall towards us.
“Help Candy,” I shouted at him, more to get him safely out of the way than any real concern over the werewolf. I jumped through the considerable hole in the wall and flung another burst of energy at where I thought the angel might have landed. I was a few feet off and blew a hole in the floor as he scrambled for cover behind the bed. I went to dive across the bed at him and just missed having my head blown off by whatever the fuck it was he was throwing around. I rolled away just in time and smacked him with a pillow on the way. Take that, you bastard. He looked confused for a moment, which bought me enough time to roll safely off the bed and avoid another blast. The bedroom was full of holes by this time and drywall dust filled the air.
Lying on the ground, I grabbed the metal frame of the bed and ran a good sized charge of electricity through it, hoping that if he was touching it, he’d at least be stunned. The mattress smoked, but as I scooted around the corner, the angel was alert and waiting. He threw more of the white stuff at me and I tried to duck out of the way. It hit my left hand and I was shocked to see that it blew my hand right off.
“You fucking bastard! I just regenerated that hand!” I shouted at him as he dashed out the door and back to the living room.
I hurtled after him heaving two more chunks of energy toward him from my right hand and my left stump. One hit, knocking him through the wall and into the kitchen. I saw him slam his back against the island counter, cracking a chunk of the plywood and linoleum off as he slid to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, diving around behind the island. What the fuck would kill this thing? He threw a few more wild blasts at me from behind the island, and out of desperation I blowtorched the whole lot. Maybe fire would do the trick.
Nope. The bastard stood up and tried to make a run for the back door. I wasn’t having any of that, so I hit him again with a blast of raw energy and flung him into the fridge. By now, the middle part of the kitchen was on fire, there were holes blown through most of the house, and the fridge door was hanging off its hinges. None of the beer fell out, though. I took it as a positive omen.
He threw more white stuff at me as he struggled to get up from the floor, but it was weaker and his concentration and aim seemed to be going. Maybe I was slowly wearing him down. I took a moment to regenerate my hand while easily ducking his blast. I hate having a stump where my fingers should be.
I saw the angel dive down and guessed that he was going to make a break for the door again. I ran for it and beat him there, blocking the door with my body. That’s when he made his fatal mistake. He met my eyes square on. I locked him in place and held him there. It wasn’t easy. He still had a lot of power, and he knew his life depended on getting away. He squirmed like a bug pinned to a board, unable to break my gaze as I slowly moved across the burning kitchen toward him. Damn, he was strong, I thought as he kept pace with me, backward through the kitchen and into the living room, past Wyatt and a bloody but alert Candy. Finally, his back hit the front wall of the living room where he kicked and thrashed, his eyes wide with terror.
“I’m not going to just kill you,” I told him calmly. “I’m going to Own you so I can keep you with me forever. I’ll peel the skin from you one strip at a time. I’ll reach up your ass and pull your insides slowly out, gnawing on them and ripping them with my claws. I’ll dislocate every joint in your body one at a time. I’ll take your bones and heat them, burning bits of you with your own flesh, and just when you think you’re dead, I’ll bring you back and do it all over again.”
I was beyond excited. I had him. He was weakening and I was so strong. Mine. I’d be the only one of my kind to Own an angel. I reached him and began to send the mix of raw and personal energy into his body to force him to yield. Oh, this would be so sweet. The raw energy surged within me, and I reached out with the feathers of my personal energy to follow their blazed trail and take what I wanted. I felt him build one last bit of strength within himself to fend me off and smiled as I reached out to touch. . . the wall. He was gone. Gone. Where the fuck could he have gone? I had him. He was locked in place. No fucking way. Not again.
I shrieked in rage and hit the wall with my fist. That wasn’t helping, so I turned around and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be Craig’s dead body. With a blast of energy, I ripped his arm off at the shoulder and began smashing it against the wall with all of my might.
“Son of a bitch!” I screamed. “Damn mother–fucking cock–sucking son of a bitch!”
I continued to scream curses and smash Craig’s arm against the wall with both hands, sending bits of flesh and blood flying around the room and smearing red all over the walls. I kept at it until the arm was a mush of pulp in my hands. Breathing heavy from the adrenaline and the exertion, I realized that I hadn’t heard a sound since I’d begun my tirade. I turned my head and saw Candy and Wyatt standing well away from me to the side, staring in horror at something behind me. Turning all the way, I saw a different angel, huge, dark and fearsome, framed by the burning kitchen behind him. I choked a bit and my heart felt like it hit the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
The first angel had been tall and thin with blond curls and androgynous features in an oddly stone–like face. I’d not gotten a good look at Gregory from my brief glimpse in the Wine Bar. Not much beyond his height and dark red curls. I could see why the patrons had mistaken him for an actor. He was over six feet and built like a champion weightlifter. His crossed arms and chest looked ready to burst out of the navy polo shirt. His legs were snug in the acid washed
jeans. I wondered what angel wore polo shirts and jeans? Where was the flowing white robe thingie?
His tanned features were clearly masculine in the odd marble–textured face, almost harsh in their angles with a sharp nose and squared jaw. Dark chestnut curls fell around his ears and one dropped on his forehead. The whole effect would have been terribly sexy had it not been for his eyes. They were black. Black as midnight on a moonless night. They looked at me with a mixture of disgust and hatred. I was so scared that I had to consciously keep my energy at the surface ready for defense. I very much wanted to hide. Maybe if I stood really still, he wouldn’t see me. Wouldn’t see me here, all bloody, in a wrecked house, holding a mangled arm.
“You cockroach,” the angel said, his voice oozing cold fury. He actually hissed a bit when he said it, like a snake. I seriously thought I was going to piss my pants. “I spend my time and energy establishing protection for this man, and you lure him over here and get him killed. What a waste.” He shook his head at Craig’s body, minus the one arm.
“My carefully laid trap, completely ruined by your impulsiveness. How many more will die now? And you have the gall to think you can Own one of us? The arrogance to think you can Own an angel? You miserable, lowly cockroach. I’ll squash you like the vermin you are.”
He pulled a sword seemingly out of nowhere. A long blade that glowed with a milky iridescence. He grasped it with two hands, and I noticed the guards curved up from the hilt were shining gold angel wings. Was this the sword he used to chop up my kind and reduce us to a pile of sand? Probably. I doubted it was for dicing tomatoes. Either way, I really didn’t want to find out what it felt like against my neck.
In desperation, I dropped the pulpy arm and yanked every bit of raw energy I had to the surface hoping I’d at least cause him some pain before he took me out. Even if the sword sucked up most of the energy, maybe there would be enough to knock him sideways and give me a few minutes to try a desperate attempt at escape.