Ashes of Angels

by Michele Hauf

  “I guessed that.”

  “Because I botched the kiss terribly?”

  “Not at all. You kiss well. Your mouth is, um, it’s soft but firm. I like it. You willing to follow my lead?”

  “I would follow you to world’s end, Cassandra.”

  “All right, but I’d rather not stand at the end, if you know what I mean. Especially with all that’s going on right now. Let’s just keep it right here and now.”

  His mouth softened to hers when she kissed him again, and he pressed gently, opening slightly. She caught his breath on her tongue, sweet, ethereal, unnamable. Yes, really something like that, perhaps even angelic.

  Clasping his hand, which was planted at her hip in deference to politeness, she glided it around her back and higher. Taking direction, he pulled her closer without breaking the kiss. He assumed the mien of a seducer with ease. Perhaps he assimilated this experience as easily as he’d assimilated the world. It made sense to her.

  If falling felt like this—a soft flutter of wings in her heart— Cassandra was all for it. Kissing Sam made her feel light, weightless. Unencumbered. It was a kiss like no other, because while it was new and experimental, it fed her danger addiction. She kissed the enemy. It didn’t get more dangerous than that.

  Yet the longer the kiss lasted, the quicker she forgot the bad stuff threatening to bring down the world around her. And danger segued into passion.

  Opening her mouth, she traced his lower lip with her tongue and slashed a quick flick over his white teeth. He moaned an agreeing tone and caressed her petite curves against his lean, hard body. Her feet left the ground, and he held her easily, his tongue matching hers.

  Cassandra raked her fingers through his soft, dark hair and broke the kiss to stare into his eyes. “How are you able to do this?”

  “I think it comes naturally. And you have a great method of teaching.”

  “No, I mean, kiss me and not want to, you know…”

  “Oh, right. I don’t think I’m capable of feeling the relentless compulsion to mate unless I’m in half form.”

  “So we can do this, over and over, with no repercussions? No wings, no worry?”

  “Over and over sounds spectacular.”

  “It does but—” It sounded too good. Nothing ever came so easily. Not without a devastating price. “Set me down.”

  He did, shoving a hand over his hair and wincing with concern.

  Cassandra exhaled deeply and offered the nervous angel in the tight shirt a weak smile. It was disconcerting being in the room with a man who sucked in all the air merely with his overwhelming presence. By simply being. He was a warrior from another realm. A mythological creature. A divine creation!

  And yet he looked perfectly mortal waiting for her to make the next move.

  “I just kissed an angel,” she offered with a nervous chuckle. “How weird is that?”

  “I just kissed a mortal. I think I’ve matched you on the weirdness scale.”

  She laughed and twirled a long strand of hair and ribbon about her forefinger. Dipping her head, she looked up at him. “Truce?”

  “Most definitely. Though I never had reason to name you my enemy in the first place.”

  “Still, I’m going to keep one eye over my shoulder. I don’t believe you’re completely trustworthy.”

  “I’m probably not, since I’m focused on a specific goal. I will do what must be done to ensure it is achieved. You’re a smart woman, cupcake.” He teased his tongue over his lip. “And your mouth makes me want to fall to my knees and worship a new god. Make that a goddess.”

  “That sounds blasphemous.”

  “Don’t tell the big guy.” He averted his eyes heavenward, and Cassandra realized he’d just made a joke.

  But laughter eluded her. “Speaking of gods and goddesses, what is your relationship to Him now that you’ve Fallen?”

  “He is my Father. I love Him. But as children are sometimes wont, we wish for things denied us and rebel. Forbidden fruits, and all. I pray He can still love me after my rebellion. I could not go on should The Most High abandon me.”

  “So you plan to go back someday? To Heaven?”

  “Above.”

  “Right, you call it Above and Beneath.” A detail Granny hadn’t cared for. As a good Catholic, she had preferred the traditional Heaven and Hell.

  “If it is possible, I want to return Above, with all my soul.”

  “They why Fall in the first place? It couldn’t have just happened like that. You want to Fall, and you do it. You had to have considered it, planned it, thought about it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And yet, you’ve changed your mind about that decision?”

  He nodded. “I serve no purpose here on earth. I wish to get back to my real work Above.”

  “Which was?”

  “I led the ranks of the Seventh Kingdom. We, well…we did a lot of smiting.”

  “Is that so?” It sounded like a band of warrior angels, slashing at things with swords. A guy thing. No wonder he wanted to return. “You do serve a purpose here.”

  “Which is?”

  She wasn’t exactly sure, but he’d not yet harmed her, so that made his presence seem…right. But what a pitiful explanation.

  She glanced to the halo hooked at his hip. Granny Stevens had explained how it worked, what it meant and what it contained. “What about that soul?” The halo held the Fallen’s earthbound soul.

  “It will remain unclaimed. Earth is no place for one such as me.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem to fit in well. You look like the average guy, er, well, maybe not. You look like some kind of fitness model with perfectly tousled hair. But you look human, is what I’m trying to say.”

  “Good thing, too. It would be difficult to walk the land with thirty-foot wings sweeping behind me all day.”

  “Remarkably, no one would take notice.”

  “I understand that. Your world is filled with dreamers, actors, thespians and what are those others…? Ah! Role players. They dress like orcs and Klingons—”

  “And angels. That’s why the wings wouldn’t shock anyone. Only a few would know your truth.”

  “Children. They are pure of heart and can see more truths than adults could ever fathom.”

  “Truths we adults grow out of, like faeries and vampires.”

  “Exactly.” Granting her a delicious smile, Sam asked, “Can we kiss some more?”

  Not a bad suggestion. And yet… “I thought we were to hunt vampires?”

  “The sun is high in the sky. We won’t find them now.”

  Cassandra yawned.

  “You should get some sleep. I forget mortals require rest.”

  “I should if I’m going to stake vampires later.” She sat on the sofa and patted it for him to join her. “Do you need to sleep?”

  “Nope.” He sat beside her and took her hand and kissed it. “But I’d like to lay beside you while you doze off, if you are okay with that.”

  To lie in the arms of a protective angel? Who could ask for their guardian angel dreams to get any better?

  She tilted a kiss against his mouth, and pulled him to lie beside her.

  “Tell me the truths you’ve forgotten, Cassandra.”

  Cassandra sighed and closed her eyes. “I wasn’t allowed to forget for very long. Granny told me and my sister about the Fallen and muses when I was twelve and Coco was ten. I think I had stopped believing in Santa Claus right around then.”

  “You mean the man in the red fur suit? You know he’s not the meaning of Christmas. At least not for a good Catholic girl like you.”

  “How do you know—you know everything about me?”

  “Not at all. But I saw the statue of the Virgin Mary on your bathroom sink when I was looking for weapons.”

  “That belonged to my mother. There are days I’d like to stop believing in it all. But I don’t. How can I? You’re right here in front of me. Looking so—” sexy “—a
ngelic.”

  “That’s called faith.”

  “Call it what you will, but it’s not faith to me. Just…belief.” She yawned and closed her eyes.

  It didn’t take long for the muse to fall asleep beside him. Sam looked over her as she breathed softly, captive to sleep’s unavoidable grasp. Of all His creations, mortals were the most exquisite. Each one different from the next and endlessly compelling in design.

  Cassandra’s red lips were like soft petals. They’d felt like fire against his mouth. A sweet fire he wanted to consume. Her skin was light brown, not tan, but of a mixed heritage that fascinated him. The soft sweater rose and fell with her breath, and he couldn’t stop watching her breasts rise and fall with it.

  “My muse,” he muttered. “Until I leave.”

  He must return Above. It was where he belonged. He’d made a mistake Falling, and he’d meant it when he said he had no purpose here. He would correct that mistake.

  Chapter 5

  After supper at a nearby McDonald’s, and Sam’s declaration that fast food was very odd—one presses meat and bread together and eats with their fingers?—they decided to case the park across the river Spree from the Schwarz, since they’d been in the vicinity when Cassandra had been attacked by vampires. Where there had been two bloodsuckers, there could be others.

  The sky was overcast, as usual in the wintertime, and the park lights had already flickered on and cast a circle about their steel bases that glittered on the bright snow. Sam had insisted they set onto the hunt early, while the vampires may not yet have emerged from hiding.

  Casting a glance across the river, Cassandra sighted the patina domes of the Berlin Cathedral. The area was a tourist hot spot, but the park was empty. It was winter, and tourists usually preferred shopping to playing in the cold.

  She tromped across the park grounds, which were laden with six inches of fluffy snow. Fur-rimmed winter boots hugged below her knees. Black wool leggings and a long, chenille sweater kept her warm beneath the stylish Gore-Tex parka that was thin but made of material that repelled the cold like a dream. Leather gloves and a rabbit-fur hat with flaps over the ears topped off the unsexy look.

  Sam followed close on her heels, quiet, but she thought she felt his breath at the back of her neck. Impossible, because her hair spilled from under her cap over her coat and down her back. And he wasn’t that close.

  She’d be okay with him walking beside her companionably, but she suspected she would have to teach him that bit of relationship etiquette. Interesting. A man with no sexual history whatsoever, and yet, he could wield sex against her as a weapon.

  It made her feel powerful and, at the same time, weak. She didn’t like the contradiction. She shouldn’t want what she’d been thinking, a connection between the two of them. She was a big girl and could take care of herself.

  Yet a little protection from a warrior angel would feel great. A relief, after years of always being alert and ready.

  Not that they were in a relationship, by any means. But she did partially trust him, which made him more than a stranger and a little less the enemy. A thwump startled her. Cassandra spun to spy another Fallen across the park. It strode purposefully toward them. She knew it was an angel because black wings spread out behind his shoulders and he wore only jeans and biker boots.

  These angels and their lack of winter clothing. Shouldn’t they want to blend in?

  But seriously? Another Fallen was not a good thing. And those wings were not black feathers, they were—she couldn’t tell what they were fashioned from, but they looked like shards of coal.

  “Stay back,” Sam directed curtly. “Behind those trees.”

  Taking orders, Cassandra tromped to the blue spruce trees lining the edge of the city park. By the time she slapped a glove on the cold bark trunk, the angels were circling each other in the fresh-fallen snow. Sam did not bring out his wings, but his height and build matched the other in power and strength.

  He’d made a promise to her. Would he be able to stand against one of his own without wings?

  “Nazariah,” Sam said. “What brings you to this neck of the mortal realm?”

  The burly Fallen rolled his shoulders forward in a classic wrestling intimidation move. “Same thing that brings you here, Samandiriel. I’ve been summoned.”

  “Tribe Anakim. Vampires,” Sam confirmed. “They’re up to foul deeds.”

  “Vampires are easy enough to crush. But I do appreciate the release from the Ninth Void.” The new angel nodded toward the trees where Cassandra stood. “She yours?”

  “She is,” Sam answered confidently. His fingers moved over the halo at his hip as if he was a gunslinger anticipating his opponent’s flinch.

  Nazariah chuckled. “Haven’t gotten down to business with her yet, I’ll wager.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “That’s right. Samandiriel is all about admiring the muses. ‘We should respect the mortal muses,’” he said mockingly, “‘not use them as we please.’ Idiot outlaw angel.”

  Nazariah charged Sam, catching him about the shoulders. The two soared through the air much farther than normal men engaged in fight were capable. The Fallen’s wings flapped, and when Sam landed in the snow on his back, Nazariah’s wings caged him in with feathers of stratified anthracite. A shing of metal hummed the air. Blue blood spattered in a line across the snow. Halo in hand, Sam had cut a line across the Fallen’s forehead.

  Snow flew and their tussle blurred into a blizzard. Cassandra stood at the tree line, silently urging Sam on and wanting to help him, to jump into the fray, but knowing he didn’t need her intrusion. He may be in a form less strong than the half-shifted Fallen, but he held his own.

  Still, she slashed a hand through the air, delivering a smart chop and an angled kick. Smacking a fist into her palm sounded in the still air. Cassandra winced as Sam took a wing tip to his solar plexus. Ooh, that one had to hurt. Would have knocked the wind out of a mortal man.

  Nazariah had the advantage of wings, which, with a flap, swept him away from the physical clutch and briefly suspended him in the air. The Fallen could not fly, though they could apparently use wind currents to move about. He dive-bombed toward Sam.

  With a shift of his hips, Sam stepped aside. The Fallen’s landing, heels skidding over the icy ground, pushed the snow into a half crater before him.

  Go, whispered a voice in Cassandra’s head. Now is your chance. Get away from them both!

  Abruptly ending a punch in the fight she wasn’t a part of, she looked over her shoulder. Car headlights rolled by not two blocks south of the quiet city park. She could insinuate herself into the busy metropolis nightlife and return—no, she couldn’t go home. It would be the first place Sam, and other deadly creatures, would look for her.

  And did she want to leave him? The man was an innocent concealed behind the mask of the enemy. But he didn’t feel like the enemy now. The enemy never kissed so sweetly, did he?

  “You are not like us!” Nazariah yelled.

  Cassandra’s attention returned to the battling angels.

  “For that I am glad,” Sam answered. He wavered, his stance wobbling. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek and blue streaked his white shirt.

  “Do you think to win your return Above with such selfless admonitions?” Nazariah swung a wing around and cut Sam through the chest. Again Sam landed on his back across the mounded snow. The Fallen bent over him. “You make me feel pity, brother.”

  Sam chuckled and spit aside blood. “It is good you can feel such a selfless emotion before dying, brother.”

  Sam swung the halo and jammed it into Nazariah’s chest. It cut deep through muscle and bone and he pushed it all the way in. The angel shrieked in the unnatural myriad of tongues that sliced like knives in Cassandra’s brain. It vibrated in her ears, threatening to crush the fragile bones. Her mouth went dry, and she tried to scream, but the noise in her skull took away the ability to vocalize. Falling to her hands and knees, s
he gritted her teeth.

  Silence swept over the park as if the angel’s cry had been sucked into a vortex. The Fallen one’s entire human form shattered, dispersing into a hail of glittering crystals. Dark wings dropped in a pile of anthracite ash.

  Sound rushed back to Cassandra with a buzz in her veins and eardrums. The cold brushed her face as she pushed up from the snow.

  Sam had slain one of his own. He stood over the carnage, head bowed and muscles flexing across his back, then dropped to his knees and fell to the side.

  Cassandra ran toward Sam and plunged to her knees beside his body. Blue blood stained the snow. He still gripped the halo in a hand coated with more unnaturally colored blood.

  “Sam?” The angel didn’t move. His chest did not rise and fall, but she suspected it never had. Angel hearts did not beat. “Sam! Oh, you can’t be dead. You’d be ash if you were—”

  What could she do? Wasn’t like she could call for an ambulance and have a team of doctors inspect him for life.

  Her breath clouded before her face. Cassandra’s lower lip wobbled. “Sam?”

  He cracked open an eyelid and smiled at her. “Were you worried about me, bunny?”

  “Yes. No.” Bunny? He was joking when she’d thought him dead. But at times like this, humor felt necessary. “What happened to cupcake?”

  “You look like a bunny wearing that fur hat.”

  A relieved smile swept over her entire body, relaxing her tense muscles. Surprised at her reaction to nearly losing him, instead of crying, she chuckled.

  The moment had taken away her breath. Made her feel as though she’d lost something important to her. Coco was the only family she had. She’d let her down. She didn’t want to lose this connection before it had even grown solid.

  They looked over the pile of glittering angel ash.

  “You killed him. Nazariah,” Cassandra whispered, feeling strange awe. A divine being had been slain while she had watched. It hadn’t felt right, blasphemous almost. Yet why such terrific dread befell her now, and not earlier for the Sinistari, made little sense to her.

  “Had to be done. He was my brother, as are all the Fallen. His intentions were not so pure as mine toward the muses.”