Ashes of Angels

by Michele Hauf

  The Sinistari plunged onto one knee, reverent as it bowed its metallic head.

  The nephilim released a great howl that shook the walls and roof and shattered a few windows. Limbs outstretched, it cried to the heavens from which it could claim no home.

  Cassandra choked back tears.

  The brilliance flashed out.

  A few flakes of angel ash sifted down from above.

  Cassandra approached the cage, but was abruptly stopped by the chains. The cage was empty. Not a trace of angel ash or nephilim. It had not escaped; the ash of a Fallen one had simply consumed it.

  Gone. Accidentally slain. An innocent condemned by the need for bloodshed to survive.

  Someone grabbed her from behind. “We need to get you out of here, love. Boyfriend isn’t looking too friendly right now. Rather, I think he wants to get friendly, if you know what I mean.”

  Above them, Sam peered down from the top of the cage. His wings flexed out, and his body shone under the lights as if he were a life-size silver sculpture.

  Cassandra had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Sinistari!” Zane shouted. “Come here and help me get this pretty muse out of these manacles.”

  “I’ll do better than that.” The demon brandished his blade and looked up to Sam.

  “No!” Cassandra shouted, but the demon paid her no heed. It stepped forward, but the vampire put out a foot and tripped it.

  Zane flashed a wink at Cassandra. “That’s not going to do us any good—he’ll be up in a jiff. But I know where your head is at, love. Maybe I can pick these locks.”

  She gave him her wrist, but couldn’t take her eyes from Sam. The outlaw angel held her gaze. Outstretched behind him and to his sides, his wings gleamed. Was he considering whether or not to jump and approach her? He must know, even in half form, that he could harm her.

  Did it matter to him while in that form? Could he distinguish between right and what was deemed wrong according to human morals? He’d said the compulsion focused him. All he could see was he and the muse, together. And she suspected such a coupling would not be like the sweet love they had shared only hours earlier.

  One manacle fell from her wrist. Zane started on the other.

  The angel standing upon the cage jumped, wings stretching out to slow its descent.

  The Sinistari lunged, blade aimed for Sam’s heart.

  Cassandra swept low and grabbed the halo. She had but a moment to aim, and knew she could never get it right, but had to try. She released the circlet in a whoosh.

  The halo cut through the demon’s wrist, severing the hand that wielded the blade and dropping it to the floor. It yowled and spun, spattering black blood across Cassandra’s legs. It burned, but she’d withstood far worse.

  The angel dodged to avoid the demon and in doing so, its wing tipped the halo and reset its trajectory. The halo soared over the top of Sam’s head—and stopped.

  The Fallen landed on the floor before the cage with a thump that stirred up the dust and minute ashes of angel. His halo, affixed above his head, glowed blue, yet it was growing brighter, much like the nephilim had done before dispersing into nothing. Sam whipped back his wings, but his movements did not dislodge the halo.

  The other manacle dropped from Cassandra’s wrist. She shoved away from Zane and ran to Sam.

  Ignoring the fact she rushed into the arms of a winged angel who could harm her, she plunged into his solid form. It was as if she collided with destiny. He was warm. Heaving. She felt a pulse against her chest.

  Was his heart beating?

  Silver wings slid down her back and along her legs. The feel of it was like hot metal, but it didn’t hurt. It felt as if sunlight moved through her veins.

  That sunlight rained over her body in the form of silver ash as the wings dispersed around her.

  Sam’s body went limp, and he dropped from her embrace.

  Chapter 21

  Sam lay sprawled on the cement floor, nestled upon the silver ash that had once been his wings. He didn’t move, no matter that Cassandra shook his shoulders.

  Beside her Zane stood guard. “Stay back, Sinistari. You’re after the Fallen. This one is…no longer.”

  No longer? Cassandra’s heart fissured. Could it be real?

  Sam’s halo was nowhere visible. She hadn’t seen it fall away from him as he’d collapsed.

  What was going on? If he was dead the rest of his body would ash. Or maybe it just took longer. Usually the Fallen’s wings ashed first and then his body.

  “No.” She pressed an ear to his chest. “It’s beating. His heart is beating. He’s alive. He has to be.”

  “Impossible,” intoned the demon deeply. He clutched his wrist where the hand had been cut off and black tar oozed.

  “Not impossible.” The vampire stepped closer to the demon, keeping him back. “Your bloke going to be okay, love?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t bring him awake. Oh, hell, why not?”

  A swirl of dancing lights suddenly rose from out of Sam’s chest. They dipped and flickered, hazing the air. Was that the beginning of his end?

  Cassandra clasped at the intangible lights, trying to force them back into Sam’s chest.

  A man shimmered into view and tutted before saying, “Won’t work, Cassandra Stevens. Those are mine.” He gestured the lights toward him and they giddily wavered up to his dark figure.

  The Sinistari took a step back. “Soul bringer.”

  “He’s not dead!” Cassandra pleaded with the soul bringer, helpless to stop what she couldn’t comprehend.

  “Is that so?”

  “No! He’s…he’s got to be alive. He just doesn’t need these souls anymore. They belong to the souls of all the mortals he taught the craft of silversmithing. Go ahead and take them.” She swished the lights away from Sam’s chest, then pounded a fist upon his hard pectoral, right over his heart. “No! We were going to be there for each other. He was going to sacrifice Above to stay with me. I…I love him. I…I thought we could have a happily-ever-after.”

  Much as her idea of happily ever after had never seemed real, she wanted it now. She’d fought angels and demons, and vicious vampires. Didn’t she deserve a happy ending?

  You’re not a princess, sweetie.

  No, but she was someone’s bunny, and she wasn’t about to let this be the end.

  With silly fairy tales dancing in her brain, Cassandra bent to kiss her lover’s mouth. The stories were always better than reality. A kiss could never bring a person back to life.

  It was always and only true love that could breathe life into a loved one.

  “I do love you,” she whispered against Sam’s lips. “I have loved you before you came to earth. I sculpted you, knowing you were the enemy, but wanting you to be mine. Come back to me, Sam. Love me. Let me love you.”

  She clasped his hand and held it to her heart. “I promised you I’d hold your hand. Well, I’m doing it now. Can you feel me, Sam?”

  She kissed him hard, clasping his head between her hands and straddling him to lift his head. A shaky hand slid over her hip, and she thought it was the vampire, until she noticed Zane ran past her.

  “Be right back, love. I see a sneaky master vampire I need to introduce to my blade.”

  “I’ll go along,” the Sinistari growled.

  And the hand at her back pulled her down to embrace against his hard chest that housed a beating heart. Sam pushed fingers through her hair. “Entwine me within your ribbons forever, love.” He pulled her to his mouth to kiss.

  Cassandra had dreamed of this kiss. She’d never thought to know it. Had hoped. Had aspired to such a selfless connection. And now she felt it become reality.

  The divine light she’d witnessed in the nephilim and in Sam before his wings had dispersed now grew between the two of them, blazing through her system. His heart beat against her palm. And Cassandra knew the light was really his earthbound soul coming alive inside him.

  “Love you,” h
e murmured. “Always have.”

  “You’re alive.”

  “Yes. And…mortal?”

  “I think so. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to put the halo above your head. I just wanted to take out the Sinistari. My aim was horribly off. Can you forgive me?”

  “For giving me mortality?” He pushed onto his elbows. Azure eyes studied hers. Not multicolored, but instead a clear, liquid blue. “For loving me? I will never forgive you. It’s what I want, Cassandra. You and me. Together.”

  Epilogue

  Coco and Zane married two days later in the AquaDom elevator as the fish swam about them and Cassandra and Sam stood by as witnesses. The newlyweds planned to return to London after a cruise around the world. Zane wanted to learn scuba diving, and Coco would finally have her world adventures. But Zane intended to be overprotective for the next few months. They’d figured out why Coco had been fainting; she was three months’ pregnant.

  After the book had been retrieved from Antonio del Gado, the Sinistari stalked the world to ensure no more Fallen existed. He found but one, slew it and claimed its feather. He then handed the book over to Raphael with Sam and Cassandra’s blessing. The demon, whose name Sam had never gotten, was never seen again.

  The Anakim leader escaped capture, but his lairs in Berlin and Paris were looted and destroyed under Ivan Drake’s command. If the tribe leader showed anywhere in the world the Council would snatch him and administer just punishment.

  The silver sigil necklace del Gado had worn was found in the warehouse, and Cassandra tucked it in a jewelry box at home. She still bore the sigil on her wrist, but it was a soft brown now, much like Coco’s faded mehndi designs, and she knew it would never glow again.

  Cassandra thanked the moving men who had dropped off a new couch and tipped them on their way out of her loft. She’d redecorated and repainted, and now felt sure no one would ever guess five vampires had been slain in the living room. She still intended to move back to London, but the new paint job could not be avoided.

  The shower stopped, and she sauntered into the bathroom to snuggle against the steamy man who stepped out and groped for a towel in the fog.

  “I like you wet,” she said, and playfully licked his nipple.

  He swung her over a shoulder and stalked into the bedroom, wet feet slapping a trail across the hardwood floor. Tossing her onto the bed, he leaped and landed beside her and curled her into his arms.

  “I love you,” she said, and kissed his wet cheek.

  “I love you, too. Weird how the accident took away all memory of my past but left my memories of you.”

  “Weird, but good.”

  “Yes, very good.”

  He rolled on top of her, lifting her nightgown, and slipped inside her to slowly move in and out.

  After Sam had gained his earthbound soul, his memory of being an angel quickly vanished. They had barely made it to the flat when she’d found him standing in the doorway, unsure and wondering why he couldn’t recall where he’d been or where he had to go.

  Thankfully, Sam had known her. Had trusted her when she’d conjured a story about him being in a car accident, which had left behind the weird burn in the shape of a spiral at the back of his hip—because he’d had the necklace in a pocket; which was why it matched her tattoo (he believed hers was a tattoo)—as well as altering his memory.

  He’d wondered where he worked and if he had to get back to the job. Cassandra had made an excuse he was an artist’s model and that’s how they’d met, when she’d created the silver sculpture of him. Right now, he was between jobs and had been looking for an agent.

  It worked for both of them—for now. She didn’t like lying to him, and planned to someday tell him the truth. She just needed the right words, and a little time to work it out. More Fallen would come, now, or maybe decades or centuries later. Right now, she wanted a breather from doom. They had both earned it.

  In the weeks since Sam had saved the world from the apocalypse—or at least a small catastrophe—they had spent most of their time making love, and some of the time eating and making plans to join Coco and Zane on their cruise. She’d explain Zane being a vampire to him later, as well.

  Reaching aside, Cassandra picked up the silver feather from the nightstand. She’d found it on top of the silver ash left behind from Sam’s wings. She drew it across her cheek and then down her lover’s chest.

  “I like it kinky,” he purred deeply.

  “Do you now, Mr. I Don’t Remember Anything?”

  “I think I do. Give me that.”

  He grasped the feather with his teeth and began to tickle her with it. Together, they now enjoyed heaven on earth.

  Want to learn how Zane and Coco met?

  Turn the page and read their story,

  THE NINJA VAMPIRE’S GIRL,

  first published in ebook form by

  Harlequin Nocturne Bites!

  Chapter One

  London

  I glided down the vast marble hallway, which was trimmed in gilded and plaster frieze, relieved to be away from the ballroom tucked amongst the wigs and damasks, satins and frockcoats. The party was to die for, the people gorgeous and the champagne and chocolate endless.

  But I was not here for drink or flirtation.

  Veering toward the lone ottoman placed in the center of the grand hallway, I plunged onto the tufted velvet and turned onto my back. The tight corset squeezed my ribs but I liked the snuggly feeling. And it pushed up my breasts nicely, making me feel sensual and womanly.

  Alençon lace at my elbows hung over my wrists, and I blew it aside to inspect the mehndi stained onto the palm of my hand. It was traditionally worn for weddings and celebrations, but I had hopes the sigils worked into the design would provide protection.

  Scanning the three-story room with a vaulted ceiling that looked as if Michelangelo had set up a scaffold beneath, my eyes took in the elaborate gold frieze, gaudy paintings and portraits and crystal chandeliers. So much artwork in this hall, it resembled something from the British Museum.

  “It could be anywhere,” I muttered, sliding my hand down the black satin corset.

  The red damask bodice was sown to the corset, but the red ribbons tying down the front of the corset were for show. Too busy for my taste, but the whole costume worked for this adventure.

  I did like adventure. Adventure was my middle name.

  Along the ceiling, plaster angels had been worked into the cornices, but they were all pudgy cherubs. Nothing so bold and virile as what I had hopes to find.

  A musical jingle sounded in the stillness. I tugged a cell phone out from the side of the corset where it nestled against my breast, and answered.

  “Cassandra? Yes, I’m here at the party. No, haven’t found it yet. You’re sure Leonard Marshall has one?”

  My sister shuffled papers on her end—that would be a sweet little flat in Berlin—while my eyes strayed over the painting of a grazing horse, and then to the more modern and, frankly, groovy canvas that featured bright-colored rings dancing over a black background.

  “It’s got to be there, Coco.”

  “Wait.” I sat up, wincing as the corset dug into my ribs. “I think I found it. Talk to you soon, Caz.”

  Tucking away the phone, I approached the groovy canvas hung above the right corner of the doorway. I squinted discerningly. One ring on that painting was most definitely not like the others.

  “Score.”

  There was enough fancy plasterwork and wood chair railing on the wall to facilitate a makeshift rock climber like in the gym I attended…. Okay, so I paid membership fees, but the last time I worked out was too long ago to remember.

  Pushing aside the bothersome poufy skirts to reveal my legs, I fit my ballet flat above the baseboard plaster decoration, found finger-holds above a cherub’s head and started to climb.

  I’d left the hallway door open about a foot and the music from the ballroom—eighteeth-century harpsichord fused with techno thump—promised t
he revelers would party all night in celebration of Midsummer. I wasn’t much for parties. My adventuring kept me pretty busy. And I could hardly think to celebrate when my sister was in trouble.

  Securing my fingertips along the top of the door frame, I managed to boost up with my toes. The ring secured onto the canvas was a reach away.

  My toe slipped on the satin hem of the dress. I slapped my free hand high, clasping the ring…and teetered backward into a free fall.

  The woman landed in my arms, a flailing scatter of limbs and swishy satin. I caught her easily, her huge dress disguising her fey weight.

  “It’s not every day a bloke catches an angel,” I said. “And looky here, this angel comes complete with halo.”

  She kicked and struggled so I let her stand and shuffle away. She shook the halo at me, prepared to spout some nasty reply, but she did not. Her jaw fell, and her bright brown eyes fixed to my face.

  “It’s not polite to stare, love.” I stroked my cheek. “It’s just a scratch.”

  She summoned courtesy, and straightened her delicate shoulders. “Sorry. I, uh…” She held the halo before her, momentarily marveling over it, then quickly tucked it behind her back.

  The corset cinched her breasts high and firm. I licked my lips. I could go for some of that.

  “You going to share?” I queried, cautiously pacing toward her, while she stepped backward, away from the door. I reached out with my mind to touch hers. The persuasion innate to my kind would serve my means to success. “Hand it over, love.”

  “I’m not your love. Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I want that pretty halo your daring adventure has earned you.”

  “Well, as you said, it was my daring adventure. That makes it mine. So bug off, creep. Er…I, um…”

  Her bright red lips parted. The hand holding the halo out of sight slid across her skirts, displaying the cheap-looking silver ring of ineffable metal.