by ML Guida
Mason’s shimmering black aura made him look more like the Grim Reaper than a man. Heather couldn’t take her eyes off the hellish sword. What had he done to his partner? What did he mean he knew how to kill an angel of death? Fear swirled in her tummy. Could the man hurt Scythe?
Mason lashed it through the air, laughing. The man was insane.
Mattie jumped out of her arms then hopped around the floor. “Mattie, no.” Heather stomped her foot. Luckily, she ran into her room, jumped on the bed and pranced around like a jackrabbit.
Heather glanced at her white cordless phone sitting on her dresser.
“You’d never get there in time.” Mason waved his finger back and forth as if she were a naughty little girl.
She frowned. “What did you say?”
“Yes, I can read your mind. My powers are growing. By the way…” He tilted his head toward Scythe. “This city’s men in blue think he killed my partner.”
Heather tensed. “Shit.” They were so screwed.
“But you can’t read mine,” Scythe said. He edged closer to the maniac.
Terror shot through her heart. “Scythe, no!”
“I don’t have to read your mind—angel.” He lurched at Scythe, the sword hissing through the air.
Scythe side stepped, bumping hard into Heather. She slammed into the wall, pain smashing into her shoulder, like being hit with a bat.
“You’re dead, Angel.” Mason pointed the weapon at Scythe, twirling it around.
Scythe snatched Heather’s hand and somersaulted, taking her with him. They rolled into her room, and he landed on top of her, sitting on her chest. She couldn’t breathe.
Mason yelled and charged.
Scythe slammed the door shut and crashed his body against it.
“Open, you coward,” Mason said. A loud banging hit the wood.
Heather scrambled next to Scythe. “Lock the door.”
He gave her a foul look. “Like I didn’t know that.”
The door shuddered again. Mason demanded, “Open this door, coward. Face me.”
“Yeah, like I’m going to do that.” Scythe tilted his head. “We go through there.”
Heather followed his gaze. “My bedroom window? Are you nuts?”
Mattie barked and Heather grabbed her collar. “Will you shut up?”
The door thumped.
“We don’t have time to argue.” Scythe nodded. “Do you really think this door will hold?”
“I’ll call the cops.” She clasped the phone. “Shit, it’s dead.”
Scythe hurried to the window and flung the plantation blinds against the wall. He unlocked the latch and lifted the window. He motioned to her. “Come here.”
“What are you doing?”
He hoisted up his foot.
“No! Don’t”
He rammed his foot through the screen. A long tear ripped. He grabbed the flapping remaining screen and yanked it free.
Wood splintered. Something sharp pointed through the door. “He’s digging through?”
“Yeah. Hellish blade.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me your hand and grab the mutt.”
Her heart beat hard in her chest. “Two stories high? No way.”
Another stab hit the door; this time more silver came through. Mattie snarled.
Mason gave her no choice. Taking a deep breath, she snagged Mattie’s fat, trembling body. She clutched Scythe hand with her sweaty palm. He yanked her close to him. His masculine scent washed over her. “You’ll be fine.”
Pieces of splintered wood flew through the air. Mattie whined. Heather tightened her grip on Scythe’s rough hand. “Don’t let the mad Whacker cut me down.”
“Trust me.” He put his leg through the window and half sat. He pulled her into his lap.
Biting her lip, Heather peered at the rocks and her wooden deck below. “Shit,” she murmured.
She held Mattie close. Her brown eyes wide, Mattie wiggled and whimpered. “Shhh,” she whispered. Who was she kidding? She was trembling as bad as Mattie.
“Hang on.” Scythe wrapped his arm around her waist.
The sound of a loud crack hit the room. She glanced over Scythe’s shoulder. A hole emerged in the door and a foot kicked wood. Without warning, Scythe jumped. Air whipped around her face and the ground rushed up toward her. Heather screamed.
Holding her secure against him, Scythe landed on both of his feet, jarring her. Mattie jumped onto the deck and darted underneath it where Heather couldn’t reach her. “Damn it, Mattie, no.” She shook from head to toe. “How did you land on both feet?”
He panted hard. “I haven’t lost all my powers.” He thrust out his thumb. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Bitch, where are you?” Mason called from inside.
Scythe held a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
“But Mattie…”
He held up his hand and closed his eyes. A peace came over her. She clapped her hands together. Squashing low to the ground, Mattie crawled out from underneath the deck.
Scythe threw Heather over the six-foot wooden privacy fence. Landing on her palms and knees on the pebbled rocks, she winced. Pain gripped her. A deep bloody cut marred each palm.
Mattie flew over the fence, her paws moving in the air. Her arms stretched out, Heather lunged, but the dog slipped through. Mattie yelped and rolled. Scythe leaped over the fence. “Get up!”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t tell him about her hands. Mattie barked her head off.
“I see you.”
Heather looked up. Mason hung out the window with a crazed look on his face. He crawled through, still clutching the sword in one hand.
Scythe grabbed her arm and shoved her. “Move!”
“No, wait.” Heather shook free. “Mattie, come.”
Mattie limped, her right paw dangling at an odd angle. Heather snagged her leash, getting another yelp and winced.
She cradled the trembling dog against her chest. “I’m sorry, honey.” She kissed the top her head. Mattie snuggled closer. Her thundering heart matched Heather’s.
Scythe clenched his teeth. “Run. Don’t worry about the blessed dog.”
Heather hurried after him, but spasms of pain ran down her shaky legs. Blood drizzled from her knees. She took another step and her right leg crumbled. “Ow!”
Scythe glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, Heaven.”
He seized Heather and with one swoop lifted her in his arms.
“Angel,” Mason yelled. A thump hit behind her.
Scythe ran at a speed she didn’t think any man possessed. Her vision blurred and wind raced through her hair. She held Mattie tighter, never wanting to remember the sword embedded in her little frame.
Heather leaned against Scythe’s chest, listening to his thundering heart. “Hold on.”
Her heart raced and she held her breath. She tensed. He cleared the six-foot fence in one hurdle and landed on his feet again, but this time, he landed on green grass. God, he was superhuman, but then again, he wasn’t a man.
Something hit the fence hard. Scythe’s hair whipped her face. She gasped. Someone’s long fingers gripped the fence and a scraping sound hit the wood.
Scythe glanced at her. “Trust me.” His voice sounded like he was pleading.
She nodded numbly. “Alllll right.”
Her words rattled in her chest as he raced into the street, his feet pounding on the black top. She bounced up and down like a kangaroo. Forgetting to breathe, she clutched her dog, not wanting her to dart out of her arms. If she tried to escape, Mattie would be jumping out of a moving freight train.
Heather buried her face into Mattie’s soft fur, caressing her face. Her familiar dog scent helped her to keep from screaming. It’s not every day you have a psycho-killer cop chasing you and an angel holding you, running as fast as a superhero. All she needed was for Scythe to burst into flames and burn her and Mattie to a crisp.
Screaming sirens shrieked. As Scythe whirled around the corner, two pol
ice cars slammed on their brakes, tires screaming. The doors flew open and four cops jumped out, guns drawn.
“Hold it right there,” the tall black cop said in a no nonsense tone. “Move and your dead.”
Footsteps pounded behind us. “It’s him,” Mason yelled behind us. “He’s the one that murdered Hewitt.”
Chapter 15
Red and blue squad lights flashed. Cops aimed their pistols at Scythe, Heather, and Mattie. His heart beat soared and blood surged through his veins. His clothes stuck to sweaty body. He drew on his power, but not a single tingle pulsed through him.
He released a long heavy sigh and a sour taste burned in his mouth. His power was spent. He needed to time to heal. They were trapped between Mason and a firing squad.
Thunder crackled overhead, then lightning flashed and hit the ground behind a squad car. None of the officers even flinched, but electricity shot up through Scythe’s feet to his head. His heart skipped a beat. He shook and his teeth chattered.
Heather’s eyes widened. “Scythe, what’s wrong? Your hair is standing straight up.”
“Michael.” He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice.
Her face paled, and her chin quivered. “The Archangel? Where?”
He had to strain to hear her low voice. “Over there.” He tilted his head. “Behind the cop car.”
Michael’s thick black hair cascading down his back, he stood shirtless and wore leather pants, like always, with his arms folded across his massive chest. The light glimmered off the handle of his heavenly silver sword, Excalibur, that was sheathed on his hip. It was the same blade he used to fight Lucifer. He towered over the cop car. The tallest, fittest and meanest dark angel in God’s arsenal, he wasn’t one you wanted to betray, and he had done it. As if reading his mind, Mattie licked Scythe’s face.
Heather frowned. “I don’t see anyone.”
“I know. It’s better that you don’t.”
She trembled in his arms. “Is he mad?”
Michael’s fierce scowl hurled a bolt of fear through Scythe. “You could say that.”
“You need to keep your mouth shut,” the black cop ordered. “Put the woman and dog down. Hands in the air. Now.”
Scythe lowered Heather to the ground, never taking his eyes off Michael. Heather lowered Mattie to the ground. She scampered off, straight toward Michael.
“Mattie,” she called. “No.”
“Leave her. She’s safe. He won’t hurt her or you.” No, he’s here to kick my ass.
The burly cop motioned with his pistol. “Hands in the air, lady, now.”
Heather slowly raised her arms and frowned. “Who won’t hurt her?”
“Michael.”
Her eyes widened, and a flush flashed over her face and neck. “It’s because you brought back Mattie, isn’t it?”
Scythe refused to answer. The less she knew, the better.
Mason ran up behind them and pointed his finger repeatedly at them. “They both tried to kill me.” His excited voice sent Scythe’s nerves on edge. If he had his power, Mason would get first-class ticket to hell.
A car door opened and a petite black woman wearing a blue-striped suit got out. She leaned on the car. “Really, Mason?”
Mason cleared his throat. “Schmidt, what are you doing here?”
“Thing is…Hewitt’s not dead. Came to about a half hour ago.”
Scythe arched his eyebrow at Michael who shrugged. The head angel had kept Hewitt alive. Why? To spoil Blade’s plan? Or was Hewitt’s name not in the Book of the Dead? Like Michael would give him any answers, at least not now.
Michael flashed him a hostile stare that sent chills of terror down Scythe’s spine. Acid burned in his gut. He was so fucked.
“What?” A cloud of doubt flickered in Mason’s eyes. “That’s great.”
“Ya think?” Schmidt tapped the window with her red fingernails. “Take them all in for questioning.”
Mason reached under his jacket.
A blond-haired female cop cocked the trigger on her revolver. “You touch it, you’re dead, Mason.”
All four guns aimed at Mason. He dropped the knife. “All right. All right. Don’t shoot.” He raised both his hands high in the air.
Strands of her brown hair hung in Heather’s face and Scythe itched to push it away. She silently mouthed I-believe-in-you. The tension coiled in his muscles lessened and his heart swelled. She was his angel-mate. No matter what Michael did to him, she was worth it. He’d die for her.
Thunder grumbled overhead. “We’ll see about that, Angel.” Michael’s menacing voice stole Scythe’s breath, then all went black.
An icy wind whipped Scythe’s naked skin, whirling him around like a piece of paper in a roaring tornado. The noise hurt his ears. Pain gripped him. Human shrieks rang in his ears. Don’t let those be Heather’s.
He couldn’t make out the voices, but he was in too much torment to distinguish whether they were male or female. Zeus knows what happened to her. He gritted his teeth and with all his strength flapped opened his wings, but it was useless. An angry gust slammed into his back, flattening his wings to his side. Agony tore through him. He screamed for Heather and fell.
The air turned hot. His wings plastered to his sweltering skin. His throat was too hoarse to scream anymore. He spiraled toward a flaming orange ball that grew bigger and brighter and hotter. Fire exploded and crackled. Fear gripped him as the blistering wind lashed him like a fiery whip. His arms and legs trembled. His thundering heart sent blood gushing through his veins. Steamy sweat drenched him. His hair flung into his face, blinding him. Michael, please have mercy.
But none came. How could Michael do this to him? If he hurt one hair on Heather’s glorious head, he’d challenge the holy tyrant. Where was that coming from? He had never felt this way toward his boss. Never. He had followed Michael’s every command, every order, every desire without question. But that was then, this was now. The only thing that mattered was getting back to Earth. Heather needed him, but what if she was down here? He couldn’t feel her. She could be anywhere. For Heaven’s sake, Michael, don’t hurt her. Where the hell was she?
Volcanoes erupted. He smashed into the boiling lava. Jagged rocks and pebbles scratched and dug into his skin. His flesh melted off his bones. Agony gripped him. Human screams mixed with demon laughter rang in his ears. He screamed, but the flickering flames ate his shrieks.
Suddenly, the fire dissipated, and he was whole again.
“Ah, so you’re here.” An evil voice froze his heart.
Panting, Scythe turned. “Balthazar.”
A black-haired man slightly bowed with a dumb ass grin on his face. Long black hair fell to his waist and his eyes burned red. Sweat glistened off his muscles. He strutted across hot coals in his bare feet and hooked his thumbs into the loops on his tight black jeans. He looked like he’d just gotten back from a leisurely walk in this hellhole.
“Hello, Scythe,” he said. “I see we meet again, but this time…” He raised his hands in a wide V over his head. “We’re on my turf.” He bowed slightly. “Welcome.”
The stench of decaying, rotting souls permeated the air. Noxious fumes made Scythe’s eyes water. He wrinkled his nose. His stomach twisted into a knot. He bit his cheek to keep from vomiting. Scythe rolled to his side. “You bastard, where is she?”
“Ah, yes, your angel-mate? Wouldn’t you like to know?” Balthazar put his hands on his hips. “It’s not polite to insult your host. Boys.”
Growls and snarls were all around Scythe. Black shadows with pointed horns, yellow glowing eyes and long sharp claws emerged out of the flames. Hovering, the black shapeless images surrounded him. Scythe tensed and his racing heart pummeled to his toes. Shit, ghost demons. Without a heaven sword, he was fucking powerless.
Scythe balled his fists and struggled to stand, to fight. “Balthazar, I will kill you if you hurt her.”
The ghost demons hissed and swarmed him, like pissed off wasps protecting their
nest. Nails sharp as daggers slashed through his flesh. Ignoring the agony pumping through him, he swung, but his fists went right through them.
Balthazar laughed. “Only a demon can touch them. You know that.”
Scythe staggered and fell to the ground. Razor-sharp teeth tore into his muscles, ripping bits out. Misery swelled inside him. Biting his tongue, he refused to cry out.
Balthazar sat on a rock and picked the dirt out of his nails. “Don’t worry. I doubt Michael will let you die. But let me give you this piece of advice. Blade’s soul will soon be mine.”
“Never.” Scythe spat blood into the pit.
“Good-bye, Angel. We’ll meet again.” His cruel laughter killing any hope.
Closing his eyes as a ghost demon attempted to tear out his eye, Scythe dug his nails into the hard ground, trying to block out the unbearable torment. Wind blew in his ears and the tearing and biting lessened.
“Get up,” a hard voice said.
Scythe recognized that voice. “Michael?”
He opened one eye. The sun shone high in the sky and the blasted demons had vanished. He lay on a turf of fresh-cut grass and Heather’s dog, Mattie, panted next to him. She edged closer to him and put her nose next to his. Her paws touched his hand as if to say I’m here.
Michael towered over him. “You disappoint me, Scythe. My number one angel betrayed me.”
Scythe rolled into a sitting position. How could he be sweltering, melting in hell but come out here and be as cold as ice? Michael’s shadow covered him. He could only make out his shining silver eyes. Michael sauntered a few feet away, and the sun chased away his chills.
Mattie laid her head in his lap. She nuzzled closer, and he stroked her soft fur. “I didn’t betray you, Michael.”
“Then why is she alive?” Michael pointed at Mattie as if the little dog was an abomination.
“She’s a dog. Did I disturb some grand plan?” He wanted to knock some sense into Michael’s stubborn melon. He looked around. “Where in heaven is Heather?”
“Are you telling me you want to go back and visit Balthazar?”
Michael’s low drawl cut Scythe’s backtalk.
He swallowed. “No, but…”
“Silence.” He waved his hand. “I will hear no more of your excuses. You are no longer second-in-command. Saber is replacing you.”