by Lexi Ostrow
“Excuse you!” she growled but didn’t turn. She saw fingers out of the corners of her eyes and felt the goggles shift and appropriately cover her eyes.
“You know better than to look upon an Angel of any race,” her father’s voice was stern; the one she’d heard growing up when she’d disobeyed him.
Her eyes traveled back to the demon in the room, and she sighed in relief when she didn’t want to caress the beautiful tan skin. Angels had powers of persuasion. Only other demons could truly look at them unobstructed and not feel the urge to do whatever was needed to protect them.
Odette never understood why they hid. Should the Fallen and Pure Angels want to take humanity, they would have only but to show themselves for what they were and not lurk in the shadows.
“Why is it here?” She turned her gaze on her father’s. Concern filled his eyes, and for a moment, she regretted verbally sparring with him. He, of all people, knew how she felt about Angels, though.
“Layel, it has been some time since you have seen her, this is Odette. Constance’s daughter.”
She found it strange he’d referred to her as her mother’s daughter and not his, but had no time to question it as the imposing demon walked over and wrapped his arms around her. The embrace was awkward and not wanted on her part. It didn’t stop the demon from running his hand gently over her hair, caressing her.
Someone cleared their throat, and she felt the embrace slip away as he took a step back.
“It is an honor to meet you, Odette.”
The Pure Angel inclined his head to her, and she flushed. Intimacy among Angels wasn’t uncommon. However, they rarely laid a hand on a human it wasn’t proper, it was a cause to fall, and this Angel’s wings were white and glorious.
“I am tired of being in this office and being ignored as if I am a child. I’ve been bitten. I don’t have the luxury of time. There are things I would like to seek out, demons to catch and question. None of which includes standing around and doing nothing whilst I turn into a blood drinking mind slave.”
Philippe’s chuckle caught her off guard, and she wanted to slap him. There was nothing funny about the situation, and there was nothing a Pure Angel could do. They were demons, yet they had a moral code that forbade them from getting involved unless it was a situation they’d created—like with the royal daughter who had almost been slain because an Angel had found her too irresistible to not hold.
Few people knew how the Alliance came to be. Even fewer knew that Angels were the ones who had given them the crystals and information needed to power things. Wherever they came from, one thing about them was indisputable; they were advanced, and they didn’t care much for others.
“If you would like to cease your tantrum for a mere moment, Odette, I’m sure Layel’s presence will please you.”
Her father’s words ground on her nerves. She sputtered and turned to stare at the Angel again. Even without the compulsion, he was beautiful to look upon. Not in a sensual way, but in a way that she wanted to know him, know his story. She had never wanted to be alone with an Angel, Pure or Fallen, and the fact that she wanted to speak with this one at length made her lip curl back.
“I do not care for your kind. To me, there is hardly a difference betwixt Pure and Fallen. Your kind took my mother from me and launched my life into an oblivion that I am still saying goodbye to people in. So forgive me if I do not address you with respect. What are you here for?”
Despite her tirade, Layel smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “My stars, Thomas. You had a hard time on your hands didn’t you?”
He chuckled, and she felt her skin bristle in anger. As she was getting ready to storm out, he turned his silver gaze to her. His hand stretched out towards the bite on her wrist, and where his fingertips touched, she felt a faint tingle.
“Kappa Demons were indeed involved. She does not live because an Illusion Demon attacked her wearing the guise of a Kappa. This attack was not linked to the one in Baltimore. She lives to serve them; she was indeed bitten to be turned.”
Philippe spoke for the first time, ire in his voice, and she could have hugged him for finally agreeing with her.
“Mon Dieu! Is he for real? We knew what attacked. Why was there ever a doubt if it was a contingence of what attacked her in Baltimore?”
Perhaps it was the stolen kisses influencing him, but she liked this version of him.
“You can never assume to know anything with demons, hunter. You’ll do well to learn there is more to them, to us than beasts to slaughter. There is information you can learn from us, and only us. So mind your tongue when you speak next, or I will have you removed from the room. Your attendance is unneeded, and I am uncertain why you are here. If you are looking after my…after Odette, then I have no true fight with you today.”
Philippe’s familiar growl sounded behind her, and she found her lips upturning in a slight smirk. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one not amused. “Wonderful. So I was attacked, and purposefully might I add, by yet another demon. Will wonders never cease?”
“I can understand your frustration. I am here to tell you that all is not lost, child.”
“Being called a child by a demon who looks to be about ten and twenty himself is rather insulting.”
“It is a good thing I am over a century old then, is it not?”
He was playing with her; she could sense it in his smile. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and pushed it back out slowly, trying to calm her anger. If he was serious, she needed to know what he would say.
“There is a flower that grows at the entrance to Hell. It has no translation, no name that I can give you. It is simply a Hell flower. It gives those who ingest it the ability to cure from all wounds. It will reverse what threatens you.”
“Entrance to Hell?” The question was out, and a shout nonetheless. “There’s a bloody fucking entrance to Hell?” Her feet began to move, and she was pacing in a two by two space. How did they not know something like that? Why would they not have that knowledge to simply attack demons there?
She looked to her father, and he looked uncomfortable. Shock wasn’t written on his face, he had no outburst. “You knew.”
He nodded at her accusation. “There is much I know that I have been sworn by the Pure Angels to not tell, as has every leader of every Alliance post.”
She felt her vision blur as anger fueled her. Secrets. Bloody secrets in a line of work that killed people. “Then why did I not know of it?” her voice was shrill, and she sensed a comment about feminine hysteria coming. So be it.
“There are only three. One in the country of Sweden, one underneath Big Ben and one in the middle of the ocean. You were heading a group that would never be in danger to them. There was simply no need to inform you.”
“Enough!” Layel’s voice boomed in the space.
Even with the goggles on, she hesitated to attack her father, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“Thomas Agardawes leads an impossible life with rules and restrictions he has no need to share with everyone. What is important is there is a way for you to get to the flower to heal yourself.”
“Great let’s get going to Big Ben. In and out before the morning tea,” Philippe spoke again.
“Big Ben is off limits.”
“Excuse me?” Philippe’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was laced with anger.
She cringed and turned to the man she was slowly starting to care for. She was angry, but if Philippe didn’t take a step back, he could cost her.
“Philippe, I am as angry as you are. I want to live, though. I want to not piss off this annoying demon. I want the truth. I want the secrets dispelled should I survive with my mental facilities intact. I want to survive, and right now, that means you need to leave before you cause him to fly through the roof or something.”
She could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched it shut. His nostrils flared, and his eyes had narrowed, but he said nothing as he turned and
left the office. The door closed quietly behind him, and she admired that he had not slammed it. She would have.
“I meant what I just said. I want to live and be who I am right now, not some demon carbon copy. What entrance to Hell can we use, and how difficult will it be?” Layel smiled again, and she wanted to wipe it off his face.
“You are strong, Odette. Stronger than I could have ever hoped.” His eyes grew sad for a moment, and he shook his head. “You will have two weeks to get to the mountain range in Sweden. Your father has the coordinates, and I do believe your inventors have been working on something that flies in the skies to get you there.”
She gasped at the comment. Flying? Could they actually have found a way to use the crystals to do such?
“It will be dangerous. The area has no version of your Alliance as it is sparse and unpopulated. The demons are mass in number, and you would be wise to travel in a group. No less than six would be the smartest course, and make sure they are all willing to die to save you. What they will face down there will not be pleasant.”
“I will assemble a team. Odette, nothing will be overlooked, and I will see to it that Eliza joins us. She will need to be protected should a fight occur, but she is the most skilled with the crystals, and I doubt she would allow Lucius close to Hell without her, anyway.” His voice waived, fear for all those involved finally weighing on him.
Tears pricked in her eyes, and she walked over to his desk and put her hand on his. “Thank you, Father. I know you would change this if you could.”
For a moment, they simply looked at one and another, the promise hanging in the air that she would be free, even if he had to kill her.
“Two weeks is all that you will have. The change will move swiftly and comprehensively then. However, some signs will show from now. Do not keep them a secret, should your companions not know, it could get them killed, Odette.”
All she comprehended was the timeline. Two weeks to save herself. Two weeks? Why would it slow down so much? “I have heard from those that watched such a turn that it was only one week. Are you lying to prevent me from reversing this?”
The Angel frowned and looked to her father before looking back at her. “The poison moves slower within Angels. You will have an extra week.”
“Fantastic. I’m not an Angel, though, so we’d better step that timeline up a week.”
“No, you are not. You are a half Angel. Your mother was my lover, and the man you call father merely stepped up to raise you as I could not.”
“My mother?”
“She had sampled my blood, a foolish action on my part, and I should have Fallen for it, but it had been a mistake. She chased a random Fallen down. Her death was her own addiction, not one forced on her.”
His words slammed into her like a punch to the abdomen. Her mother. Her father. The room spun, and she couldn’t understand the words being spoken to her. Her father was not her father. She was not human, she was the thing she despised most—an Angel, a demon. Odette felt her body swaying, felt the bile of disgust rising up like a force, and she screamed.
She uttered one quick, sharp shriek before turning her eyes to the men in the room and cried out again. Everything was spinning, nothing was okay. She tried to swallow back the bile and was only barely able to do so. Her eyes found her father’s—no not her father’s—Thomas Agardawes. He looked at his desk in shame, and that was all the confirmation she needed to know.
She spun on her heel and slammed into Philippe, who’d moved toward her, presumably after her screaming. Her eyes locked on his, and for a second, she almost stopped. Her hands landed on his chest, and she shoved him out of the way and ran out of the door to the office.
She registered nothing as she ran, except the command for Philippe to keep her safe.
Nine
He struggled to close the latch on the wooden trunk and sat on it to force it shut. The sound of a lock engaging had never been quite as satisfying to him. He bent to pick it up and felt the wind rush out of him as he struggled with the weight.
“What the bloody hell is in here?”
Odette lifted her head off her knees and turned to look at him. Her eyes were as dead as they had been when he’d calmed her down two days prior. “I didn’t pack it. I have no interest in going.”
The chest smashed into the floor with a crash, and she jumped at the sound. Philippe had moved from where he stood, to the window seat she sat curled upon. Abruptly, he yanked her up by the arm, causing her to cry out and glare at him.
He didn’t care. “You will never speak that way again. Nothing is wrong with you for being part demon. Nothing.” His mouth was so close to hers, he was struggling to stop from kissing her. For two days, he’d been quiet as she wallowed. Her world was not what it had appeared to be, and he was her assigned protector, so he’d stand by quietly. He would not permit her to speak about her life as if it was forfeit.
“Funny, coming from you. I recall you telling me a week ago that you wanted to do away with all demons.”
Her eyes lacked any fire, any passion in her retort. They were focused on Philippe’s though, and the dead way they shined at him pissed him off. He didn’t answer her immediately because he couldn’t. He’d meant what he’d said, she was important. It didn’t matter whose blood ran in her veins. He cared about her as more than an assigned nanny. She had such life in her, and he would not let her give it up—no matter what it took.
“Well, I was wrong. Lucius saved my life a month ago. You’ve made me question my ability and desire to leave women out of my life. You have a man that raised you who loves you, a group of friends who want to help you and a few people who don’t even know who the fuck you truly are willing to risk their lives for you. So it’s time you get over yourself, female. You are special because of who you are, not what creature you are, and I’m over watching you wallow.”
His mouth closed over hers, and he claimed her. There was nothing slow or passionate about the kiss as he nipped and tugged on her lower lip. She gasped and pulled back from the kiss, just far enough for him to look into her eyes.
A fire was storming beneath the surface. She was not fully awake, but the deadness that had taken hold was shaking free. He smiled and leaned down, ready to kiss her again if it would remove the hurt and coldness she’d adapted to.
“Who are you to speak to me that way?”
Her voice held the fire her eyes were still lacking, and he smiled harder. She was coming back to him. If she was pissed along the way, he was all right with that. They had no relationship together, aside from a few moments of passion. He’d hate to those the ability to try to have a relationship with her, but if it must be that way to cure her, he would do it. No matter what it cost him. He hadn’t been lying about the spark, she made him feel things he’d long since shut off, and he didn’t hate it.
“I’m the man who is about to join a group of people willing to literally journey into Hell to save your ungrateful arse.”
Her eyes flickered with anger. “That doesn’t give you the right to speak to me in such a manner or touch me. Not once in there did I hear that you were my husband.”
He scoffed and choked on a laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. With the way you molded against me, and latched onto me with your hands, I must’ve missed that I didn’t have permission to touch you. It will never happen again, ma belle felle.” Anger simmered in him as he let go of her arms and took a step back. She was right; he had been taking privileges with her. He’d also thought she’d felt something for him too. Apparently, he had been mistaken.
“Stop that, too. Stop calling me your pretty girl. I’m not yours. I belong to no one now. I lost my family,” her voice was raw, and tears trickled slowly down her face. Whatever she’d been suppressing was coming out, and good or bad, it was his fault.
He took another step toward her, and she didn’t sit back down on the window seat. She stood with her chin held high as the tears fell and her lip trembled just a little. She made no noise
when she cried, just like the morning after she’d been bitten. She was filled with a strength many men did not possess, and the fact that she was emoting was enough for him. He had just wanted to make her feel again.
He turned away from her, intending to pick the trunk up and walk it down to the parlour so it would be there when the carriage arrived from the guild to take them to the small field outside of London.
“Philippe?”
Her voice was loud, but he could hear the question in it. “Yes?” He grabbed the chest off the floor.
“Put it down.”
She sounded closer, and as he set it down and turned, she was mere millimeters from him. The tears had stopped, and her green eyes were on fire, just as he liked them to be when she looked at him. She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his. He wasn’t sure which of them moaned in pleasure at the contact, but he was the one that wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. For minutes, they stood locked in an embrace, kissing slowly and then fast, learning one another and learning what thrilled the other.
When she pulled back, her lips were swollen from his kiss, and he felt his cock surging to life in his trousers. They’d been there before, and he was trying not to assume where it would lead. She was not a maiden; she’d been married with children. It was still not appropriate for him to take her in her father’s home.
Her lips formed a delicate “o” as she blew out a breath and he bit his cheek to not kiss her again. She was driving him mad, and all she was doing was standing before him. Awkwardly, her hand tucked a section of her dark hair behind her ear, and suddenly he wanted to bury his hands in it. The current of emotions in the room was charged with lust and hesitation, from them both.
“Just this once, I need to remember what it feels like, Philippe. I need to remember what’s out there to live for. It can’t mean anything. I’m not ready to move on from Shawn. But I need you to give me a reason to live past this.”