by Debra Dunbar
“Humans, you idiot. As if we’d care if they grabbed elk or polar bears.”
I caught my breath, eyeing Raphael in alarm. As much enthusiasm as I had for a fistfight, I really didn’t want to see the angel smite the werewolf for disrespect.
“I care about elk and polar bears,” I interjected before blows, or worse, were exchanged. “Do you think we should go there now, or wait until morning?”
“It would be nice to close the rift now before those things come back, but I only have some vague landmarks as location markers. It would be easier to pinpoint during the day.”
Brent had a point. I had many talents, and my night vision was damned good, but Alaska nights could be dark, especially in the forest away from any light pollution. It was cloudy. It was spring. It was already dark out.
“Okay, at dawn then.” I walked over to my computer where the satellite view of Alaska was still up. “Show me where and give me the landmarks. I’ve been up to Skagway enough that I might recognize them.”
I plopped down and Brent came over, his hands on the chair arms caging me in and putting him right up against my shoulder. “I need to talk to you,” he murmured in my ear.
Great. Raphael already looked like he was trying to decide whether to rip Brent’s limbs off, or just stomp out in a huff never to return again. So much for that sexy kitchen interlude. And so much for my great make-the-angel-jealous idea.
“I’ll go check on the noodles,” Raphael told me. His voice was steady and low, in a tone that signified mass murder might occur later. He’d heard Brent. Of course he’d heard Brent. Werewolves had amazing hearing. I’d expect an angel’s would be even better.
The angel turned around and headed for the kitchen. I watched him go, waiting for him to be out of sight, although I was pretty sure he still would be able to hear us.
“What?” I snapped at the werewolf. This had to be the weirdest night of my whole life. Stuffed in a closet. Partnered with an angel who promised he wouldn’t harm me in return for my help. Enough sexual tension to burn half the state to ash. And now this. Whatever this was, I doubted it would end in sexy-times. I’d be lucky if it didn’t end with blood on the floor.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “An angel. Ahia, this is going to end badly. You seem confident that he’s not going to kill you, but what if he tells other angels you’re here? You’ll need to leave, go hide with one of the other packs. If they’re anything like that guy, we can’t protect you. I’m not even sure the entire pack working together could do more than ruffle that guy’s feathers.”
His words were a cold splash of reality. Was my libido getting the best of me? Blinding me to the pitfalls? If he was going to rat me out to the Ruling Council, there was nothing I could do about that now. I’d need to leave once this project was over — for the pack’s safety as well as my own. Alaska had been my home for thousands of years. I didn’t want to live anywhere else. This land was mine. The humans here were mine. These werewolves were mine. Damn it all. I didn’t want to leave.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice what was going on between you two either,” Brent continued. “He’s already acting like he’s staked a claim on you. How do you think that’s going to work out? A quick fling with an angel isn’t going to be like a human pick-up or hooking up with one of the pack. He’s going to rip your heart apart, then leave you without a second thought.”
I thought of the chemistry between the angel and me, the way his lips felt on my neck, that odd sensation of touching-not-touching. I was so out of my league — and that hadn’t ever happened before. I knew with him I’d be vulnerable. He’d strip my emotions bare. I’d give everything to him. And then what? He was a thousand times more powerful than me, he was billions of year older than me. I was probably quick entertainment, a perk of a project in the middle of nowhere, someone to use up then toss aside without a thought once it was time to go back to Aaru and the other angels.
I was such an idiot. And I still wanted him, in spite of the absolute train-wreck my future would be if I slept with him. Crazy. That was me all right.
“Can I ask you something?” I twisted in the chair to look up at him. “How did you all know I was a Nephilim? I mean, your great, great, great grandparents. When they found me living with the humans here in Alaska, how did they know I was part angel?”
Brent looked at me as if I’d suddenly gone crazy. “You heal in a blink. You shapeshift in a flash of light. You’re like a werewolf only hundreds of times more powerful. Why wouldn’t we think you’re a Nephilim? Plus, there’s an energy you give off, a kind of angel energy. A shaman or magic user wouldn’t have that energy.”
“He thinks I’m an angel — a full-angel angel.” I nodded my head toward the kitchen.
Brent opened his mouth then shut it, tilting his head in thought. “I…I don’t know. I mean, you don’t have the level of energy output that he does or even Nisroc, but Nephilim are half-angels. Of course you seem like an angel.”
“But could you tell the difference?” I pressed. “If you met a young angel and a Nephilim, could you tell the difference?”
He stared at me a moment. “You’re more powerful than the Nephilim in West Virginia, or the ones sheltered by other packs. They all have different strengths and abilities, though. We just assumed you were particularly gifted, that you’d gotten more than your fair share of angel.”
I believed Rafi. And Brent’s words confirmed it. It made sense. It made perfect sense. And Rafi would have no reason I could think of to lie.
“Maybe he’s just saying that to flatter you, to get in your pants,” Brent said, glaring toward the kitchen.
I snorted. As if the angel needed to flatter me to get in my pants. “Like telling me my eyes are the color of onyx, or my hair is softer than mink?”
The glare turned my way. “Hey, that’s not fair.”
I bit back a smile. Brent had said those things to me long ago when he’d wanted to get in my pants.
“I don’t trust him,” the werewolf said. “I want you to promise me you won’t sleep with him.”
I turned back to face the computer screen. “Tell me where this rift is. And describe the winged-things.”
I wasn’t going to discuss the conflicted nature of my thoughts and emotions with Brent. He was the Alpha. It was his job to protect me. But we had history together, and there was no way in hell I was going to confess to the werewolf how very much I wanted to go screw that angel in the kitchen. I might be crazy, but I wasn’t cruel.
Brent sighed, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. “North about five miles out of town. East of 98.”
“Here? In the mountains?” That was going to be a nightmare. Yes, we could fly, but the rifts were hard to spot with aerial reconnaissance, and trying to cover that ground on foot would take forever.
“Closer to Goat Lake, near that ridge, from what the hunters said.”
It looked to be seven miles or so out of Skagway as the crow, or angel, flies. There had to be something else I could look for. “You said the winged-things took two hunters? Would there be remains? A trail of blood leading back to the rift?”
He shrugged. “Unless it rains or snows or wildlife cleans it up there should be some blood. The hunters shot them full of holes, so the blood wouldn’t just be human. And there should be feathers too.”
“What did they look like?”
“The wings looked like eagle wings, only partially plucked. And they had bird-like upper bodies with beaks.”
“Hippogriff? Gryphon?”
“I don’t know. All these weird creatures are starting to run together. Half this, half-that. I can’t keep them straight.”
“Back end of a horse or a lion?”
“Snake? Maybe?”
Crap. “Cockatrice or possibly a wyvern.” Don’t let it be a wyvern. Even with angelic back-up I didn’t want to have to face a dragon-light.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m hoping you can close t
his rift before they come back through.” Brent gave my shoulder another squeeze and stepped back from my chair. “I’ll meet you guys up there at sunup.”
Like hell he would. “We’ve got this. There’s no sense in you or any of the pack risking yourselves. If it’s a wyvern, it’s got a venomous bite. If it’s a cockatrice, it might have poisoned breath.”
Brent snorted. “Like you in the morning, before you brush your teeth?”
I threw a dry erase marker at him, but smiled. Yes, he’d experienced my morning breath up close and personal. And it was awesome that we could joke like this without feeling awkward or weird.
“There’s another reason I want to be there,” Brent added, shooting a significant glance toward the kitchen.
“He won’t kill me,” I countered. “I told you, he promised and evidently that’s a pretty serious thing with angels.”
“It’s not him killing you I’m worried about.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re hardly likely to have a romantic encounter while fighting off venomous bird-thingies and trying to close a gateway. Stay like a good doggie, and I’ll bring you by a bone when I return.”
He threw the dry erase marker back at me and walked toward the door. “Make that a steak and you can call me ‘doggie’ all you want.”
I watched him walk out, a fondness warming my heart. I’d known him as a baby. I’d known him intimately. I’d watched him as he took control of the pack. And in the future I’d continue to watch him as he married and had kids, as he aged and died. And through it all, I hoped Brent would always continue to be my friend.
Chapter 11
Raphael
What in all of creation was I doing? Two hours after meeting this angel and I was all over her like butter on toast, then practically coming to blows with her werewolf friend.
Except he had been more than a friend once, and I wondered if they still were. There was a warm affection in their interactions clearly built on a shared history that included more than hot sweaty sex. That’s what I wanted. Well, yeah I wanted the hot sweaty sex too. It had been millions of years — the longest dry spell ever. Angels of Order weren’t into the sort of things that I was, and most of them weren’t attracted to me anyway. Here was an angel that was attracted to me, that I got the feeling would be open to all sorts of fun. Of course I wanted to rush into sex like some teenage human with his first girlfriend. Of course I’d be all over her right after we met. It wasn’t just that spark of attraction, though. There might be something more there, but I didn’t really know her yet. And I wanted to.
Okay, either way I’d still want to have her, but if this could be something more I didn’t want to ruin it by rushing into physical and other types of intimacy. There would be plenty of time. I was three billion years old. I certainly could take a few months to woo an angel. Or days. Or perhaps hours if I found myself unable to hold back.
Patience was not my virtue. In fact, for an Angel of Order, I had very little to do with virtue and I liked it that way. But I needed to win this angel’s heart. She’d lived her whole life among humans and werewolves. How did they woo their females? Flowers. Chocolates. Shoulder massage. Oral sex. No, I think the oral sex was supposed to come after the wooing was done, which was a real shame. Flowers, chocolate and oral sex sounded like a successful way to win the affections of another.
I could hear them in the other room as clearly as if I were standing right next to them. I could tell that werewolf had his hands on her. The macaroni noodles were almost done, so I tried to ignore them and pulled the pack of squeeze-cheese out of the box and looked in the fridge for bacon.
Wait. I knew what I wanted to do. It never would have worked on an Angel of Order, but I had a skill that should push the odds in my favor if she was at all the angel I thought she was. Turning off the stove I teleported myself, popping back in less than two minutes. Yes, the grocery store had been closed. Yes, I’d lifted a few things. They’d never know and I wasn’t about to beat myself up over it.
By the time I heard the door close and felt Ahia walk into the kitchen I was done.
“How’s dinner coming?”
There was a teasing note in her voice. She put a hand on my back, making me wish I hadn’t hidden my wings. The way she’d taken hold of them in the other room, gentle and firm, her fingers caressing the feathers as she talked, had nearly undone me. I’d wanted to turn and take her there, even with that cursed werewolf watching.
“I think I’ve managed to put together reasonably edible mac and cheese.” I couldn’t help feeling smug as I dished the food into two bowls.
“Bacon? Sausage? Or plain?” She leaned against me and I couldn’t keep from reaching out to touch her with my spirit-self. It had been far too long, and she was so near. If I didn’t get some distance, this whole woo-first/sex-later plan was going right out the window.
“Bacon. I already added it.” I handed her the bowl and a fork, picking up my own. She stared down at the contents, a puzzled frown on her face.
“It’s not yellow. Did I buy the box with the white cheese instead?”
“I did something different. I hope you like it.”
Still standing in front of me, she scooped a bunch onto her fork and popped it in her mouth, long strands of cheese trailing from her lips to the bowl.
“Holy crap,” she muttered with her mouth full. “What did you put in this? It’s amazing.”
“Manchego and a few other cheeses.”
She swiped the strands into her mouth. “I don’t have Manchego. Where did you get it? Do you fly around with wheels of cheese in your pockets or something?”
“At the grocery store. I didn’t like any of their bacon, so I used yours. There’s an incredible farm in Virginia that raises heritage breeds and has their own smokehouse. I didn’t feel right popping in there at this hour and raiding his storehouse, but next time I’ll get some for you. You’ll love it.”
She took another bite. “You’re a foodie. Huh. And although you didn’t feel right raiding a Virginia farm in what is probably the wee hours of the morning there, you didn’t have a problem going to a closed grocery store and grabbing cheese?”
“No.” I held my breath, waiting for the lecture on how this sort of thing negatively affected my vibration levels, or that stealing was a sin, or that angels shouldn’t be indulging in sensory pleasures.
“Works for me.” She went over and plopped down at the little kitchen table, stuffing macaroni and cheese into her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in days. I could fall in love with this woman. Anyone who enjoyed food like this, food I’d prepared, was halfway to winning my heart
After dinner we cleaned the dishes the human way with me washing and her drying. She’d insisted on tying some frilly apron thing around me, and as we worked, we talked. She preferred her men commando over boxers or briefs, but for herself stated that a pair of bikini-style underwear were vital to keeping the seams of jeans from chafing important areas. She hated thongs, claiming that if she wanted something up her butt, it wasn’t going to be a narrow strip of lace. We lamented over how we had to recreate our shirts every time we revealed our wings, how we either had to modify the clothing to stay secure around our feathered appendages or fly around with bits of fabric flapping in the breeze, chest exposed. We discussed how best to hover, argued over who could dive deeper when plunging into water from thirty feet in the air. She described flying at top speed through the narrow canyons of mountains, the feeling of sitting on top of a glacier, looking down into the sea, how incredibly ugly eagle babies were up close and how sharp a mama eagle’s talons were when an angel got a bit too close.
I told her about Aaru, about diving off the top of Angel Falls, about flying so high that you could see the curve of the earth right below you, about helping the Iblis set loose a bunch of rabid durfts into Aaru, and the ensuing chaos, about Infernal Mates and my hopes that someday angels and demons could live together once more, that Aaru would once again be graced with creation,
with offspring — both Angels of Order and Angels of Chaos.
Our dish duty was finished far too soon, and we stood for a moment in the kitchen staring at each other, clearly waiting for the other to say or do something.
“Should we plan for tomorrow? We should plan for tomorrow then go to bed,” She babbled, turning around and practically running for the living room. I smiled as I walked after her, because I knew she was flustered, that she was feeling the same things as me, but unlike me hadn’t realized how incredibly right this was between us.
“So, here are our priorities.” Ahia picked up a notepad and shoved it at me.
Bird things. Two nearby rifts. Fucking drop bears. Chimera rift. Hydra. Other shit.
I couldn’t help but smile at the “fucking drop bears.”
“I’m all yours. You set the schedule. You lead the way. Show me where these bird things are and point out the rift and I’ll close it.”
She licked her bottom lip. I watched intently, gritting my teeth to keep from launching myself at her.
“We’ll need to do a sweep in case any of the bird things came through before we head off to the other rifts and the drop bears. And what’s our plan with the hydra? I chop heads and you cauterize, or vice versa?”
This was going to be so much fun, all of it — bird things, drop bears, hydra, and every other moment I was with her. “I’ll cauterize. Between the bird things, the two rifts, and the drop bears, I’m not sure we’ll get to anything else tomorrow. In fact, I’m not sure I can manage more than two or three rifts per day. We’ll have to be a bit flexible on the schedule.”
She nodded, a gleam in her eyes making me wonder if she wasn’t trying to drag this whole thing out as much as I was. “We should probably be rested up for the hydra, so maybe do it the following day, and the chimera rift. I can ask the pack to come help track down any stray chimera. They tend to wander far from the rift.”
I didn’t like the idea of the werewolves helping. Actually I didn’t like the idea of one particular werewolf helping. “How many drop bears are we talking about, by the way?”