Twin.
Color leeched from Nesty’s face and Kas stared at the rug. He glanced at Tanis, but his father, the most composed angel he’d ever known, stood slack-jawed and as white as his wings had once been.
Cain’s twin was dead. He’d been dead for millennia.
God of All, he needed air.
Katie rubbed her arm and took in the room’s sudden change. “What did I say? You don’t have a twin, right?”
Tanis spoke quietly. “Not anymore.”
Chapter Four
Cain stormed out of the study, leaving Katie with his stunned friends. A cone of silence settled like a mourner’s shroud, and she had no idea why. She took in the pale faces, the angry faces, the confused faces. These people had issues.
Not my business. Jon probably wondered what was happening, and she still had to get the stash from Ray’s pawned. She swiveled around to tell Tanis she was out of there, but a frosty glare from the auburn-haired half angel, Nesty, made her choke on the words. The menace in his eyes forced Katie to lower her gaze.
He brushed past her and headed for the door, but Tanis placed his palm on the Nephilim’s chest. “Give Cain a few minutes.”
The half angel gave a crisp nod but remained facing the door as if he counted every second that ticked by.
“What just happened?” Katie asked, a flutter in her stomach. She’d done or said something to tilt everyone’s mood. Curiosity nibbled at her yearning to leave.
Tanis ignored her and regarded Kas’s shuttered expression. “Anything?”
The half angel squared his jaw. “No.”
Frustration clipped the low reply. She frowned and remembered his superpower was reading minds. Could he see what she saw in her head?
“I see your thoughts, but the mental pictures are too difficult,” he said in a near whisper. “Too bad. An image of the killer would clear things up and make us—” He gritted his teeth and groaned, and she jumped back as the man’s legs gave out and he dropped into a chair. One hand clutched his midsection and the other gripped the chair’s arm until his knuckles whitened.
“What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”
No one moved to help the Nephilim as his body shook, sweat darkening the back of his Woodstock concert T-shirt.
She spun and yelled, “Why doesn’t someone call 9-1-1?”
Moments past before the half angel stopped shaking and his hand loosened on the chair.
Time to get out of this nuthouse. Katie made it three steps when Tanis spoke behind her.
“Are you certain you have told us everything?”
She turned slowly and drew her back straight. “There’s nothing else to say.”
The angel flexed his shoulders and quivered his broken wings. “Did you know that the truth tastes sweet, like warmed honey? Lies taste of bitterness as sharp as fresh lemons.”
His eyes sparked and a white glow doused the gleaming silver. Katie didn’t try wrapping her head around his ominous comment. She scrambled backward until her ass hit the closed study door.
“I shall share a proven fact about humans,” he said, staring her down. “Most believe if they hide a small piece of information from the authorities, they aren’t guilty of any wrongdoing.” He folded his arms and branded her with a knowing look. “What they don’t consider is the impact that deception may have.”
Katie’s attention was riveted on Tanis as he unfurled his twisted, almost featherless gray wings and arched the ruined things high. His body trembled as he forced the limbs sideways.
“These were once magnificent.” Tanis choked on the snarl. “Pure white. My plumage, thick and strong. They had a powerful wingspan to inspire dread in my enemies.”
He flapped one then hissed from the pain through gritted teeth. She heard a prayer and realized it had come from her.
“Information I once required to help others was withheld. When I discovered the omission, it was too late. Those I protected were dead, and these are a reminder of my failure.”
Katie’s eyes formed perfect circles. “Oh, my God.”
Tanis lowered his head and his gaze intensified. “I ask you again. Is there anything else we should know?”
She pressed her lips together and skimmed one mangled wing, then the other. He knew she hadn’t told them everything that had happened. Lie detection was his gift. She peeked at Kas, the mind snooper, and then she saw Ionie and Nesty. Her gut twisted. The Bound cast suspicious gazes her way, but only Ionie looked sad.
Katie’s heart shriveled. She needed their protection, but she couldn’t fess up. The stash from Ray’s would buy her friends time to hide from the Black Fangs. The Bound Ones had to take out the killer before he found out about her and targeted her family. All of them were worth one tiny omission.
“I don’t remember anything else,” she said. “I’m tired. I’ve been scared half out of my mind. I just want to go home.”
She hoped it was the right thing to do.
Tanis folded his wings to his body, which reminded her of closing a cracked wooden screen. “Ionie, escort our guest downstairs. Perhaps she may remember more after she’s had a moment to compose herself.”
Katie pushed a protest to her lips, but Nesty touched her elbow. He gently nudged her out of the way and opened the door.
After one last look at Tanis and Kas, Ionie shuffled her out of the study and down the stairs.
…
Inside his bedroom, Cain tugged on his shoulder holsters and then checked the clips in his black Desert Eagles. He stuffed extra magazines into the slots around his belt, adjusting the leather around his waist until the bulk was balanced perfectly.
Nothing about tonight made sense. Not the witness’s absurd claim. Not his father’s shuttered reaction. Not the wedge of hope that settled in his heart and soul.
His twin had died long ago. His brother could never return, no matter how badly he’d once begged the God of All.
Cain slammed his fist onto the weapons shelf in his closet. This shit had the Renegades’ stamp all over it. From Katie’s account, the killer was angel-kind, and he planned to hunt the son of a bitch down tonight. He’d find that supposed doppelgänger and show him how a true assassin took care of problems.
“Heading out?” Kas leaned in the doorframe to his bedroom.
Cain nodded but didn’t speak. He had to get the hell out of the warehouse before he put bullets in the ceiling.
Kas blew out a slow breath. “You’re dressed for work. Good. Tanis sent me with your assignment. You’re to meet Jarrid at the dead snake shifter’s house. Tanis thinks we’ll learn what the witness is hiding. I’ve uploaded the address to your GPS.”
His brother left the doorway and moved through the bedroom, taking uncharacteristic interest in Cain’s comic-book collection. “What do you think of her?”
He didn’t trust her, didn’t like her, and didn’t want her within sight. Katie set off every alarm he had for trouble. Her eyewitness account wasn’t only a shock; the story had drilled a hole through his heart with a rusty spoon. It had been so long since he’d thought of…
“She’s a bad liar.” Cain added throwing daggers to his leather forearm band.
With his weapons in place, he grabbed his jacket and his car keys. Before he could leave, Kas clamped a hand onto his shoulder.
“We’ve all wanted to believe someone we loved survived.”
Cain avoided his brother’s eyes. As a child he’d believed there was a chance that his brother and parents lived, but time passed. His life belonged to the family he had now, The Bound Ones, the only people he gave a damn about. Katie Logan and the mystery killer had no idea the lengths he’d go to keep what he had left.
He slipped around Kas and headed to the garage, then slid into the driver’s seat and checked the GPS.
The drive wasn’t long.
By the time he arrived, fat clouds above Councilman Washington’s neighborhood flashed and rumbled with an impending storm. Cain slowed his SUV and park
ed next to Jarrid’s dark blue truck.
He surveyed the area with practiced caution before leaving his vehicle. The street appeared empty, but Cain sensed the tingling on his nape was courtesy of maybe a half-dozen pairs of eyeballs spying on him through the white slats of expensive plantation shutters. He opened his jacket so the watchers caught a glimpse of his arsenal, and as expected, several houses darkened and windows rattled as slats closed. Washington’s nouveau riche neighbors would have some fan-fucking-tastic gossip for their next block party.
Four unmarked police cars clogged the two-lane road. Cain glared at the uniformed officer at the front door without slowing his stride. Inside, a mosaic-tiled foyer gave way to corridors leading deeper into Washington’s home. He hooked a left at a gold lion bust in the living room, maroon shag carpet muffling his steps as he crossed to the second room.
Holy…
Cain halted and stared past his boots.
A gold zebra-print rug?
He edged away from the travesty of design and turned to behold more of the decor. The furnishings were straight-up pimp, circa 1972. Animal skins from at least five different species spread over a motley array of chairs, couches, and wall art. Orange, purple, red, green. The councilman must have shoved a rainbow into a Molotov cocktail, and then boom. Tasteless new-millennium retro chic.
Jarrid stalked across the room, his expression dark. They were joined by a scowling lycanthrope wearing a gold badge on his belt.
“Detective Desmond Diego, this is my brother, Cain.”
Dwarfed by Jarrid’s and his six and a half feet, the werewolf was still a stocky bastard. The standard-issue suit he wore strained the buttons near his middle. Coarse black fur covered the skin at his neck and wrists. Diego extended his clawed hand, which Cain shook.
“I owed Tanis favor, which is only reason you’re here before the lab rats processed scene,” Diego said in a Spanish-accented grumble. “Look. Take pictures. Don’t touch nothing.”
Jarrid shot the werewolf a sour look. “We know the rules.”
Cain shouldered past the two. He turned left and followed another hallway.
As murder scenes went, this one ranked just above ordinary. Dead snake shifter on the floor. Puddle of blood. Assorted entertainment machines off to the side. The coat closet Katie had hidden inside.
Cain walked over and opened the double doors to find coats and jackets hung on rods, but she could have fit easily into the space. He squatted, reached down, and grazed his fingers over the hardwood. Three strands of red hair rolled between his thumb and index. He crushed them in his palm and closed the doors.
There was less than a half-inch gap between the two doors. When closed, he confirmed someone could see into the entertainment room. The line of sight was restricted but enough to view a murder.
“Find anything?” Jarrid leaned against the doorframe, but his gaze flicked to the side.
Cain followed the signal. Across the room, Diego’s pen froze mid-scribble on a small notepad. The shifter’s superior hearing could probably pick out an ant fart at a picnic. Cain angled his body so he faced his brother. With his hands, he said, The witness hid in the closet. Found hairs. Her color.
Faint Grace trail near the stiff. Jarrid’s fingers were a blur to anyone but another member of The Bound.
Cain moved to the victim and found, in death, Washington’s body was larger than an anaconda. His mottled skin had the dull appearance of a pair of boots too long unpolished, but gripped in the late stages of rigor mortis, the councilman had died with eyes and mouth wide open, and his entrails hanging out.
Assassins could kill a target clean with a single bullet to the brain, or a knife to the heart. Whoever offed the councilman chose to leave a mess, but Cain could recognize the kill had an odd sort of style. Question was, why?
His gaze roamed across the body. Katie had said the killer controlled the shifter, forcing him to inflict the wounds. Washington died in excruciating pain, and if that was the purpose, Cain had to give the mystery man a professional nod.
He hunched next to the corpse careful not to disturb its surroundings. Tiny zaps of energy skated across his skin. Jarrid was right about the Grace trail. Strong enough to confirm an angelic presence had been there, yet too weak to follow.
Renegades in league with a snake shifter? He rubbed his chin and tried to find the connection. Fallen angels hid better than rats in a supermarket, but Detroit was a major city. The enemy couldn’t stay hidden long in a place where informants survived by selling secrets to anyone willing to pay. Then there was the councilman. Making deals with criminals wasn’t beneath the Renegades, and politicians liked power—owning it, stealing it, doing favors for it.
Cain turned to call Jarrid over, but his eyes locked onto markings on the body. He leaned in and a sudden coldness spiraled through him, freezing out comprehension. He stared as his heart pumped molasses through his veins.
The words were carved with a meticulous hand, no doubt wanting the message to find its way to him.
Only Cain would recognize the unique script.
Only Cain could read it.
Only one other person had been taught to write in the long-forgotten language of twins.
Abel.
Chapter Five
Standing in the shadow of two houses, Abel stared at the councilman’s home. He’d waited in the dark for hours, watching the local authorities swarm in and out of the crime scene he’d provided. The snake shifter was insignificant, but his death served another purpose.
His gaze found the dark SUV he knew belonged to his brother. Cain was inside the house, and at any moment, Abel’s message would be discovered.
Now, his game would begin.
…
Liquor always steadied nerves, but not tonight.
Katie tapped a staccato rhythm on the side of her whiskey glass. She’d downed two shots, no chaser, yet she couldn’t shake the image of Ray’s body from her mind. Tanis’s horrible wings hadn’t made her gut somersault; intestines on a floor did. Blood spurting from a torn stomach did. A killer who looked exactly like the man who’s supposed to help her did.
She lost herself in the amber liquid swishing in the glass. The Bound clearly had issues with her eyewitness account; they knew she was holding back, just not what, but at least they believed she hadn’t murdered Ray.
Besides, she’d kept her promise to Jon. She’d told her side of things, and now, she only wanted to get away from this place. Trouble was, how?
As casually as possible, Katie checked over her shoulder. The warehouse was massive. Ionie seemed nice enough, but the woman wasn’t a friend. She’d have to run full-out to reach a door, but not before her watchdog alerted the others.
“I know that look.” Ionie stood across from her at the minibar. Her eyes complimented the intelligence shining through them.
“What look?”
“Girl, please. The one that says you’re seeking the nearest exit.”
Katie’s impression of her guard notched higher. The woman had a streetwise air about her, which flatlined any quick escapes. May as well make the best of a lousy situation.
“Who are The Bound Ones?” she asked. “I know they’re not cops. An entire police department couldn’t afford its own island, or convert a warehouse into a swank home.”
The other woman rinsed her empty shot glass in the sink. “The boys are sort of like detectives, tracking information and people for The Directorate in Heaven.”
“But they’re not angels. No wings, no halos, no harps.”
Ionie laughed and nodded. “Tanis is, but the guys are half angel and half human. They’re Nephilim.”
Twelve years of Catholic school came rushing into Katie’s head. She’d heard of Nephilim from the Bible. “I’d never seen one. I’ve lived here all my life, and I would remember if one of those giants was walking down the street.”
“They’re good at not being seen unless they want to be,” Ionie said. Her smile faded, replaced b
y a sad frown. “They’re called half-breeds, but I hate that term. Angel fathers, human mothers. They’re mixed race, like me.”
“The Bible says they were giants who were wiped out to keep from destroying the world.”
Ionie narrowed her eyes. “And you believe everything the Bible tells you, right?”
“Um, kinda. I was raised Catholic.”
“My advice? Don’t take anything as gospel, especially what you think you know about these boys.”
Katie’s temples throbbed, but she stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for the chat, but I have things to do. Tell Tanis he can call my brother and leave any more questions with him.”
Ionie clasped her hand in a firm grip. “I’m a reporter, so I’ve heard some wild tales on the job, but yours just sits wrong in my gut. Why make up the murder of a city leader and then blame a guy you’d never met?”
Katie snatched her hand back and raised her chin. “I’m not lying.”
Not completely, anyway.
Soft brown eyes focused intently on her. “Girl, I don’t know why, but I believe you.”
“Why?”
“I see this one of two ways.” She leaned forward and flicked out a solitary finger. “One, you saw exactly what you told us. An unfairly gorgeous, extremely tall murderer is walking around Detroit with the face of one of my friends.”
Unbidden, an image of Cain’s sculpted body and jaw-dropping handsome face popped into Katie’s mind. He exuded all the hallmarks of a man she should avoid—bad attitude, humorless, and danger with a capital D. Still, he had a body worth remembering, a presence that couldn’t be ignored, and a hint of mystery that begged to be unraveled.
Then the image warped, and Giant Guy’s ice-cold eyes appeared, his deep voice ordering Ray to stab himself, his smirk after standing close to the corpse afterward. She wanted him out of her head, and if she stuck around, she’d see the killer’s face every time she looked at Cain. Was he the killer, or wasn’t he? Her blood pressure surged, along with the urge to run.
Angel Kin Page 4