by Michele Hauf
“You can’t stop thinking about the pretty bird because you’re in love.”
“Love?” Sam slapped the counter and gestured the bartender refill his mug. “That’s ridiculous. Angels don’t know how to love.”
“Wait a minute.” The vampire turned to face him, and Sam did not like the close proximity, but when he tried to move away, he only swayed and a silly grin clapped onto his face. “I thought you blokes were all about the love. Demons can’t love and angels can’t hate. What’s up with that?”
“Oh, we exude love and all that crap. But to feel it?” Sam scoffed and reached for the fresh pint. “Bunch of bollocks. We wouldn’t know love if it hit us smack in the face.”
“I wager Cassandra hasn’t hit you in the face yet, but I do know you’ve received the blow to your heart. You are silly over that girl.”
“Men don’t do silly. I am a man. We do macho and all that alpha stuff.”
“Right, and that works for show, but when you’re alone with your woman and she’s snuggled in your arms, the best thing in the world is to breathe her in and hold her tight.”
“So true.” Sam stared at the massive aquarium. An elevator ran through the middle. He could see people in the glass elevator pointing at the sea life. “I’d need a soul to be able to love, though. Don’t have one of those. Too costly.”
“How much are souls going for these days?”
“Sacrifice,” he slurred. “It would require staying here on earth. I want to go home.”
“Ah. I imagine Above is a might nicer place than here on earth. That is, if you’re into pearly gates and heavenly choruses.”
“There’s an entire tier of angels that only sing His praises,” Sam said. “They sing all colors of creation. You know Cassandra’s voice is violet and pink? And your Coco’s is blue.”
“Is that so? I think you’d better stop with that pint, mate. You’re not a Sinistari. They’re the ones who like to indulge.”
“You know it. I am an angel. Hear me roar.”
“Yeah, bloke, don’t do that angel roary thing in here.”
Sam stopped before emitting his cry of myriad tongues. “Why not?”
“We paranormal sorts gotta remain inconspicuous, right?”
“Gotcha.”
They stared at the fish tank again. The dizzy wave in Sam’s head began to lessen, and images of the colored fish grew sharper. One was the exact color of Cassandra’s voice. Nice.
“So, does love make your chest warm and tingly?”
The vampire clapped a hand across Sam’s shoulders, which he didn’t mind so much now. “It does. It also makes you think about the girl all the time.”
“And what I want to do with her?”
“You bet.”
“Like touch her,” Sam said in a dreamy tone.
“Oh, yes, women are soft and curvy, and I like when they squirm if you touch them just so.”
“Right. Like when you touch her below the ear.”
“Or glide your tongue behind her knees.”
Sam nodded. “That sounds awesome. The knee, eh?”
The vampire agreed. “Try it sometime. Drives them silly.”
“Yeah, but I’ve the angelkiss. Can’t lick my girl or I’ll make her itch.”
“Oh, right. Forgot about that. But you can kiss her?”
“Those kisses.” Sam sighed. “They make my glass heart pulse.”
“Seriously?”
“No, but it feels that way. Like a phantom pulse.”
“Cool.”
They paused to observe the fish. Around them, morticians from the conference were chattering in a various languages.
“So look at us, chatting over a pint,” Zane said. “Getting to know more about each other than I care to stomach. Who’da thought angels could get drunk?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Right.” The vamp shook a dismissive hand at the bartender and Sam inspected the bottom of his empty mug. “Tell me, Sam, why should I believe you want to kill the vampires to stop something you Fell to do?”
“Because I said so.” Straightening, Sam thrust back his shoulders. He’d assimilated the alcohol and his system was beginning to come out of the intoxicating effects. He didn’t like having to explain himself to the longtooth. And he would not. “What about you? You’re Anakim. The very tribe we’re after.”
“Former Anakim, and brimming with secrets from the fold.”
“If you know so much, where are they?”
“They’ll be underground because that is Antonio del Gado’s MO. Close to the center of the city because it’s easier to dispatch drones from a central location and the mortal energy at the center is strongest. He needs the energy to summon the Fallen.”
“He summoned me.”
“And he won’t stop until he’s summoned as many as he’s names for.”
“I dispatched Nazariah already. Does he have many names?”
“No. Probably less than three or four. So there’s you, the dead angel, and I know of one other that he summoned to London, because I slew that wanker. But I’ve been told there is a book of sigils they’ve obtained from a muse in Paris.”
“But if they’ve no names, the sigils are useless.”
“There’s also a book of names that matches them to the sigils. Cassandra owns it. You aware of that?”
Now clear and alert, Sam eyed the vampire warily.
“You do know about it. Is it in a safe place?”
“She’s got it on her computer. I had her erase all the files.”
“But she’s still got the original book. She’d never dispose of that. Coco says it’s like her bible, along with a grimoire her grandmother gave her.”
“Is that so?”
Where had she hidden it? Must be in her home somewhere. If she was smart, she’d have stashed it in a security box at a bank.
Cassandra was incredibly smart. But would she part with an item she blasphemously considered her bible?
He should return to her house and tear it apart. Because he needed the book to return Above, but also because the vampires likely had the same plan. “You think del Gado will go after the book?”
“If he’s not already got it in hand? Definitely.”
A cell phone rang and the vampire answered. “Ivan, yes? Good to hear from you.” He put up a finger for Sam to wait, and that aggravated him. Mortals had no sense of politeness regarding their technological devices. They had been having a conversation.
“You’ve a bead on where Anakim may be hiding?”
On the other hand, this sounded interesting.
“How many vampires in Berlin do you think will help us?… Yes, I can meet you, but this is rather urgent. You know there’s a nephilim terrorizing the city?…Yes, you’re right. Are you close to the Radisson Blu?…Fine, I’ll wait here for you.”
He snapped the phone shut. “That was Ivan Drake. He’s a big shot in the vampire community and serves on the Council, which oversees all the paranormals in this mortal realm. He may have helpful information regarding tribe Anakim.”
“You go, vampire.” Sam clapped him across the shoulders as the vampire had previously done to him. A weird male bonding thing, but it seemed to offer some reassurance. “I have something I need to do.”
He stood and patted his pockets, but it was just a gesture—he didn’t have money. “You said you were buying? Hold off on sending out the troops after Anakim until I return. We need to orchestrate our every move.”
“If that is true, why the hell are you taking off on your own? Are you listening to me? Bollocks!”
Sam smiled at the outburst. He did favor the Brit’s tendency to spout colorful oaths.
“He had something to do?” Cassandra paced the floor before the bed in the hotel room. The vampire shrugged. “What were you two talking about before he left?”
“Er, you don’t need to know all of it.”
“What? Are you hiding something from me?” She tugged out the titaniu
m stake from her backpack and smacked it in her palm.
“Caz!”
The sisters exchanged admonishing glares.
“Fine.” Cassandra tucked the stake behind her back. “But he’s holding out on me.”
“Not at all, love. It was just guy talk. We put back a few pints and watched the fishies. Oh, and we chatted about how the vampires have been summoning the Fallen.”
“And that made him leave?”
Zane shrugged. “Said he’d be right back. It’ll give Coco time to plot out our moves on the map.” He leaned in to kiss Coco on the forehead. “Right, love?”
“I’ve entered the coordinates for the nephilim sighting, as well as all the places Caz said they’ve seen Fallen,” Coco said, clicking away at her laptop. “When’s the other vampire going to arrive?”
“Ivan should be here any minute now.”
“I’m going down to get a drink,” Cassandra said. Then she added, because she didn’t want them to suspect, “Can I bring something up for you, Coco?”
“Wine. White.” She focused on the computer screen. “A bottle!”
Cassandra closed the door, wishing she could have taken her coat, but she hadn’t wanted them to suspect. She took the elevator to the lobby, used the phone in the bar and called a cab.
She suspected where Sam had gone, and he had a whole lot of explaining to do.
Chapter 12
Sam hastened up the stairs, and when he sensed the malevolent presence in the vicinity of Cassandra’s loft, he leaped, taking an entire run of stairs in a bound.
Her door hung twisted from the top hinge, and amidst the catastrophe of her scattered furniture and personal items, six vampires snooped, tossed and destroyed. At sight of him, the living room window shattered and one of them escaped.
Vacillating on whether to go after the one who’d alighted or take on the others, Sam decided the scared one could go. He liked a challenge.
The next vampire sighted him just as Sam reached to shove his fingers into its chest. The heart pulsed once in his hand. He tore it out and flung it away. The vamp dropped silently.
Two vampires charged him. Another aimed a pistol Sam figured he’d found in Cassandra’s arsenal, and fired.
The bullet skimmed his skull, and cool blood drooled over his eyelid. He blinked at it, and lost focus on the brigade that pummeled him backward to the floor. Two vamps went at him, punching ribs and kicking his all-feeling kidneys. He did not like the pain that accompanied this mortal form.
With a gesture, Sam flung off his attackers from his body. One vamp collided with the wall skull-first, and stuck there in the hole formed by his head, the other vampire smashed into the one who’d shot him.
The vampire missing a heart turned over and went on all fours. He searched the pooled blood for his heart. With enemies who weren’t much for death, this battle was going to prove a challenge.
The vampire, tossed carelessly toward her while she stood in the doorway, gaped at the sight of her, then flashed a fangy grin as his body collided with hers. She pushed him off, yet he wasn’t in the mood for dancing. Growling, he lunged for her.
Cassandra had not come unprepared. She had just enough time to position the stake, and with a squeeze, the vamp’s lascivious smirk disappeared into a cloud of dark ash.
Sputtering out the nasty ash, Cassandra assessed the situation before rushing into chaos. One pile of vamp ash in the kitchen. One in the doorway behind her. The living room window was smashed, likely where they’d entered. But that didn’t explain the busted door.
Currently, three vampires were attached to Sam. One bared his fangs and bit into Sam’s arm.
“Stupid bloodsucker,” she muttered and walked in, yet she did not feel the need to go all kick-ass. Sam obviously had the situation under control.
The vamp who’d taken a bite looked up at her, blue blood drooling over his lips, which began to bubble. He slapped a hand to his mouth and jumped off Sam, leaving only two vampires attached to the angel. His whole body began to jitter, skin bubbling and veins expanding.
Cassandra stepped back and turned her head away to avoid what she expected to be—
The vampire burst into not ash but fleshy bits.
—a big freakin’ explosion. Angel blood was never safe for vampire consumption.
“I will never get this mess cleaned up,” she said, looking over the gray velvet couch, stained with vampire bits and blood. “You need any help, Sam?”
A vampire flew and landed on the couch on his spine, arching backward in a painful crunch that would have broken a mortal’s back.
Sam swung the halo across a vampire’s throat, reducing his opponent to ash. “Oh, hey, Cassandra. Just making some new friends.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ve got everything under control.”
“So I should have saved the one you tossed at me for you?”
“Did I toss a vampire at you? That was rude.”
He jumped up, and the couch vampire made a lunge for him. Swinging out the halo, without even looking, Sam managed to catch the bloodsucker across the chest, cutting deep. Cassandra ducked to avoid the spatter.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll make sure the place is cleaned up.”
“By who? Crime-scene cleaners? This is a nightmare.”
“But all the vamps are dead.”
“And the reason they were here is also dead with them.”
“Actually, I think they were looking for your book.”
“The book?”
“The one with the sigils and names.”
She gaped at him. “I told you it was all on the computer.”
“You wouldn’t have destroyed the original,” he said, confident of his knowledge.
Granny Stevens had written down everything inside that journal and Cassandra had drawn the sigils she’d dreamed with the correlating names. It was irreplaceable. And she didn’t have it all scanned onto the hard drive. Of course, she hadn’t destroyed it.
“You’re welcome,” Sam offered. The angel looked over the destruction and offered her a wince. “I’m sorry about the mess.”
“How did you know they’d be here? You were just in the bar with Zane. He said you had too much to drink. I don’t understand?”
“Call it a hunch.”
A tangible fizzle occurred and, as expected, all blood in the room ashed, except the blue puddles, which were not vampire.
It freaked Cassandra so much she wanted to scream at the insanity of her life. But with a few deep breaths, she managed to keep it together. Now was no time to fall apart. The enemies were dead; that should give her some comfort.
“I suspect Antonio sent his minions after the book so he could summon more Fallen,” Sam said. “Zane said he’d only a few names matched to sigils. Seems like they’ve summoned all they can without your book.”
She nodded, scanning the floor, not at all relieved the crime scene had now turned into an ash convention.
“Are you okay?” He reached to touch her face, but she flinched and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
She downed a glass then leaned over the sink. For just a moment, she wanted the world to stop. Hey, Cassandra, it’s all a fairy tale your grandmother once told you. Angels aren’t real, nor are vampires.
But it was real. And she was not one to tuck her head down and hide.
“What aren’t you telling me, Sam?”
“Zane mentioned the book, and I wanted to get my hands on it.”
“For what purpose?”
“Suffice, it will be safer in my hands than the vampires’.”
She avoided looking down the hallway toward the bathroom. “It’s not in your hands, and it’s not going to be, either.”
He nodded, accepting but, she sensed, not forgetting. He wanted the book. For what reason? The sigils and names could only call forth more Fallen. Did he want to bring them here himself to then slay them? It didn’t make sense, because if he did not summon
them, they remained imprisoned in the Ninth Void—the best place for the Fallen.
Just when she’d decided trusting Sam was a good thing, now he changed the rules of the game.
“The vampires had to have come in a vehicle,” Sam said.
“There was a black van out front when I arrived,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”
The black van pulled out of Cassandra’s parking lot, but skidded on ice. Sam gripped her hand and began to run, and they were able to keep up for about a block. Apparently the vampire who had jumped through the window had been waiting around to see if his buddies returned.
“We need a car!” she called.
Sam stopped abruptly, and she slipped trying to stop. He turned and caught her as she slid into his embrace, her breath huffing out in clouds. “Caught ya.”
Oh, yes, he had. Caught against his hard muscles, sheltered by his overwhelming presence. And not minding at all. She could lay her head against his shoulder and cry after all she’d been through, but she resisted the urge to fall apart.
Sam had wanted the book as much as the vampires had. She should have checked to be sure it was still safe.
“We can’t do this on foot,” he said.
“The van is long gone,” she said. “But if you do your superspeedy run thing, you should be able to track him.”
He nodded and took off, but stopped and turned to her. “I’ll be right back. I won’t leave you alone.”
She snapped him a salute and told him to get going. It tugged at her heart to watch him run away. Taking all that awesomeness of man away from her. He was her only protection from the dark forces messing up her life.
“What are you thinking?” Shaking her head and slapping her arms across her chest, Cassandra turned and stalked toward her building. “He’s better off without me.”
But she knew now she was not better off without him. She needed the supernaturally talented Fallen angel. He was fighting on her side. And with crazy vampires running rampant, and a freakin’ nephilim stalking the city, she had to admit she didn’t feel so confident anymore.
Had she grown into a false sense of confidence over the years? Training, learning, preparing for some cataclysmic event. Never actually having to put those skills to use against real danger. Had she ever truly believed it would come true?