Fallen

by Michele Hauf

  “You had better get a handle on the muse, if you know what is good for you.”

  “Yes, sir, monsieur. I’ll leave then?”

  The lead vampire gave him a look that could only be construed as “get the hell out.” Bruce turned and left, glad to be away from the old vampire’s intense…existence.

  He owed Antonio one for rescuing him from a vicious wolf attack. And the idea of being allowed to drink nephilim blood intrigued him. He already could walk during the day, but what other powers would he gain? He didn’t mind sticking around to find out.

  Cooper intended to leave town to avoid his muse. But first things first. He looked up the Hotel Regina online and marked the address. Instead of flashing there he decided a walk in the fresh air would serve him better.

  This was his farewell walk through a city he’d come to love.

  The high moon glamorized the puddles on the sidewalk from the rain earlier in the evening. A crowd of youth ran past him shouting for one another to hurry to catch the Metro. One of the girls sporting pink hair and too much eye makeup slowed and cast Cooper a smile.

  If she only knew the man who’d quickly looked away wasn’t even a man but something closer to a monster. Unless of course, she was religious and believed in angels. Then she might deem him divine. Mortals had a tendency to glamorize those things they did not understand. To find the heroic in even the darkest and most vile of creatures.

  Funny how that worked. Would he do the same should he find his halo and claim his mortal soul?

  Crossing the street to take a shortcut through a field of railroad tracks, Cooper noticed some action ahead.

  Gorgeous garnet hair flashed as it caught the moonlight. That was definitely Pyx. She delivered a high roundhouse to her aggressor, sending him crashing against the brick wall of the Metro tunnel.

  “Has to be a vampire,” Cooper muttered.

  Yet he held back. Pyx wouldn’t like it if he rushed in when she was capable of handling one idiot vampire all by herself.

  He winced as she took a skull blow and staggered, spitting black blood through the air. She did not relent, rounding on her hissing opponent and returning a bruising blow to the vamp’s jaw.

  The demon was like a work of movable art; gorgeous, defiant, exquisite and kick-ass.

  “We’re so different,” Cooper said. “Black and blue blood. Will we ever earn the red blood we desire?”

  Because despite Pyx’s reluctance now, they had once both desired it. She had to be the angel he’d once called friend.

  And if so, he wanted Pyx to bleed red. She deserved it. She didn’t belong in the demon realm. Sure, a female demon could kick ass and slay as well as a male. But the mortal realm had so much more to offer Pyx.

  Like home and family. Dresses and pretty things to adorn her body. Food and walks in the park. Love. Cooper wanted her to have it all.

  Which meant he’d have to sacrifice his chance at red blood. “Or else find another Fallen for Pyx to slay.”

  He shook his head. It was unthinkable to consider putting another Fallen in his place so he could have his selfish pleasures. Much as he could get behind the halo hunter’s reasoning to slay all the Fallen and prevent the nephilim.

  The vampire snarled and hit Pyx so hard, she stumbled across the rail tracks. Dazed, she stood there, gathering her senses. The bright headlights of the oncoming Metro train alerted Cooper.

  Cooper’s glass heart clenched. He tracked the headlights; switched to Pyx’s dazed stance. “She doesn’t see it. It’s going to—”

  He flashed to the rail track, right beside the vampire. Shoving the vamp forced him stumbling away from Pyx.

  Cooper leaped before the train, which was twenty feet away and speeding fifty kilometers an hour. He wrapped his arms around Pyx’s shoulders. He felt the impact—twenty tons of metal to glass bone and human flesh—at the same moment he began to flash….

  Sophia St. Michel worked at the coffee shop until it closed tonight at 11:00 p.m., according to the schedule hung above the register. It was only nine.

  Bruce crept up the iron staircase hugging the cool, outside cinder-block wall to Sophia’s apartment. Below sat a small, contained courtyard, encircled by four-story rental buildings. Shadows concealed his movements, though he moved so swiftly and stealthily no one would notice.

  Her back door was bolted and chained. He rammed a shoulder against the door. The metal chain assembly on the inside cracked the wood with little resistance. He slipped inside without opening it too far.

  The door obviously wasn’t used, because he walked right into a hanger of clothing. Must serve as her closet. Rubbing a bit of silk against his cheek he inhaled the lingering perfume.

  “Roses. I love the taste of a woman who smells like flowers. Too bad she ain’t around. We could have had some fun.”

  Much as he’d like to sink his teeth into the muse’s neck, Bruce intended to remain in his leader’s good graces. Stellan was walking a fine line. That vamp’s days were numbered.

  Bruce wasn’t one hundred percent positive this woman was the muse, so detective work was in order. Creeping through the darkness of her bedroom he eyed the vanity lined with glass bottles and girly stuff. Hanging over the mirror, a flowered scarf dangled red fringe. Women liked all that frippery. He liked taking that kind of stuff off women and tossing it over his shoulder.

  Smirking, he prowled into the kitchen and spied a secretary desk against the far wall. That would have bills and papers, and maybe notes of interest.

  Slinking between the kitchen table and the counter—most Paris kitchens were narrow aisles—Bruce lifted the rolling door on the secretary and poked about.

  She sure as hell bought a lot of shoes. Owed two thousand euros on footwear alone from what he could determine. The urge to feel a spike heel pressed into his hip sent a shiver up his spine.

  “I could hang around until later, greet her when she returns.”

  He pushed the button on the answering machine, but the robotic voice reported no messages.

  In the living room the sheer white curtains were drawn. An array of fringed pillows smothered a green velvet couch. Bruce plopped onto the couch and settled into the nest of feminine overload. His hand flicked a stack of books tucked beneath the glass coffee table and he tugged one out.

  He read the title, “Angels and Demons: Of Heaven and Hell.” Inside were paintings by various artists of feathery winged angels and horned demons. “Stupid.”

  He replaced the book, which shoved a red velvet-covered journal to the floor. Picking it up he opened it to a random page—and sat up straight.

  “No kidding?”

  A black ink design scribbled across the page. Bruce recognized the design, or rather the style of it. He paged through and noted a different design had been marked on each page, and beneath were notes about date, season, what she’d done that day.

  “Bingo! These are angel sigils. The muse knows about them? She must have drawn these. Antonio is going to love this.”

  He tucked the journal into his waistband and clapped his hands together. “This will definitely put me in the boss’s good graces.”

  Chapter 13

  Cooper flashed to the surface of the Metro tunnel. His knees hit the loose gravel. The woman in his arms he clutched against his chest as the train rumbled by below.

  No sign of the vampire staggering outside the tracks. He had to be an ashy hood ornament by now.

  Wincing, Cooper moved his right shoulder. The train had hit him the moment he flashed. It felt like his skin had been peeled from the bone. And that mortal flesh hurt like a mother.

  Pyx moaned and clutched his forearms. “What hurts so much?”

  Inspecting her arms and face, he couldn’t find any damage. Until he lowered his gaze to her stomach. Black blood oozed from a wound that hadn’t come from the train.

  “The vampire must have stabbed you.”

  “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Ohh…” She pressed her fing
ers over the wound and tarlike blood oozed between them. “Cooper?”

  “Your flesh is mortal. It’s called pain, Pyx. Humans feel it all the time.”

  “Yes. Hurt before when a vamp shot me, but… Can’t shift now. Not…in front of you. Oh, that hurts.”

  She didn’t want to shift before him? Because she thought that would spoil his attraction to her? He’d felt the same when he’d accidentally shifted. Seeing her in demon form would not offend him, but he wouldn’t force her to do it.

  He inspected the wound. It was a deep cut, but once beyond the mortal flesh and muscle the demon’s inner organs and structure were metal. She would heal, but not as quickly as she would were she in Sinistari form. “Just sit still,” he said, hiding another wince from his own pain. The shoulder had dislocated, surely. The muscles strapping it burned like molten iron. “Let it heal before we move. Or I’ve a better idea.”

  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and flashed—landing in her living room. Jumping up, he raced into the bathroom and tossed a towel in the sink. While he waited for warm water to cover the towel, he jammed his shoulder against the door frame. Biting back a yowl, he gritted his teeth and swallowed the bile that had risen.

  You want this kind of pain, buddy? Because it’ll be a common thing after you claim your soul.

  He turned and inspected his back in the mirror. Bold bruises formed an ugly tattoo. The skin was abraded and it looked like someone had started to peel it off.

  “Cooper!”

  Pain, he could handle. Pyx in pain? That was not cool.

  Cooper wrung out the towel then returned to find Pyx sitting against the sofa, clutching her gut.

  “I’ll be gentle. Let me take a look.”

  She allowed him to press the towel to her stomach and wipe away the thick black blood. Her blood did not offend him. It only reminded him how desperately he wanted to get a soul—pain be damned.

  “Maybe this mortality thing isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” she said tightly. “It doesn’t hurt as much now, but I sure don’t want to feel that kind of pain ever again.”

  “I like the pain. It’s another choice the mortals have.”

  “That wasn’t exactly a choice back at the tracks.”

  “Of course it was. You chose to engage with the enemy. You knew the risks would not be a day in the park.”

  “You got me there. I’d never walk away from an angry vampire. What about you? You’ve blood on your shoulder.” She stroked his skin through the torn shirt and showed him her blue fingertip.

  As his skin knit together and the muscles snapped into shape he felt it all. And yes, he did like the pain. He’d never once felt it while serving Puriel, though there were times half of him had been consumed in flames in the midst of a massive smite. As an angel he’d simply walked from the destruction and shook off the ash.

  Without a thought for the damage and murder he’d caused.

  Never again.

  “I’m fine. It’s healed. And your pretty skin is still pretty, sweetie. Bastard vampire.”

  He threw the towel and it landed on the bathroom floor. The motion ripped a searing cut through his shoulder. He bit back an oath.

  “Choice or not, I’ll kill all the vampires,” he said through gritted teeth. “Screw the halo. No one hurts my girl.”

  Pyx’s mouth dropped open. Her wide, multicolored eyes touched his. What had he said to put such wonderment on her face?

  Oh.

  “I mean it,” he offered, “about the halo. It can wait. I want to kick some vampire ass for what they did to you.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. Vampire butt. Kick it to oblivion. Now about that other part.”

  “What part?”

  “About no one hurting your girl. Do you…?” She gestured between him and her, speaking silently the dangerous connection neither would admit to.

  The girl in question was the oddest girl he’d encountered, and the most appealing. Nothing about her was like the average woman. And everything about her twanged at his better senses. Senses that knew she was his enemy, yet wanted a go at it anyway.

  And it wasn’t as if he was feeling a compulsion. It was more a genuine fascination and interest in someone he admired. Yes, he admired Pyx. He felt as if he had known her for millennia.

  And maybe he had.

  Cooper shrugged. “Well, you know.”

  “I know I heard a Fallen one claim a Sinistari as his. What’s up with that? Do you think the two of us…? That we have something going on?”

  Her tone berated more than agreed. Damn it.

  “No.” But to be truthful? “Yes.” He wasn’t about to let her off with a free pass. “You don’t think there’s something between us?”

  She slammed her arms across her chest. Sitting, her legs bent and fiery hair tousled about her shoulders, vamp blood smeared across her neck, she looked more the fallen angel than anyone else in the room. “Absolutely not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What part of absolutely and not didn’t you understand, Fallen one?”

  Cooper sensed she wasn’t being true to herself. But who was he to claim to know her mind? And what in all of Beneath had gotten into him besides a frisky Sinistari?

  Humanity had begun to permeate his glass heart. A precursor to getting his soul. And he liked it. Hell, he loved this compassion that allowed him to relate to another being’s pain or confusion, or even to sense when they were not being truthful with themselves.

  Lunging forward on his knees, Cooper slipped a hand behind Pyx’s head and drew her forward to kiss. She didn’t struggle; in fact, she wrapped her long legs about his hips and pulled him closer so he straddled her.

  This time he did not make his touch tender with gentle exploration, but instead dove in deeply. He had to taste her, to feel her, to claim her in a way that he hoped would knock the doubt from her brain.

  “What in all of Beneath is this then?” he asked. Their breaths meshed in urgent desire. “The two of us. Kissing every time we get within a foot of one another. Touching. Acting as if we’re the greatest of friends instead of mortal enemies.”

  “Lust. Greed.”

  “You can’t excuse a kiss as sin. Does this feel sinful?” He brushed his lips over hers. The warmth of her made him moan.

  “You forget sin is what makes me tick. I need it.”

  “Pyx, I don’t want this—” he kissed her full on the mouth “—to be classified as a sin. It’s a good thing. You can have goodness, too. It’s your choice. A choice you made once already. Just take it.”

  She pushed him away and he landed, arms splaying across the glass coffee table. His shoulder had stopped hurting, but now, he felt a twinge of pain in his chest. It wasn’t as if he’d been stabbed or hurt with a physical object, no, this pain pulsed in the muscle and hurt his thoughts more than his body.

  That familiar ache.

  “Last night you push me away. Tonight you pull me back.” Pyx strode out of the living room, unbuttoning her shirt as she did. “You’re confusing me.”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  Just trying to get a little action without having to argue over the right and wrong of it every time. What was so wrong about that? He was following his…well, his heart. And yes, admittedly, his heart was cold, out of touch, and unfamiliar with the whole process. He should not have pushed her away last night.

  “I want to connect with you, Pyx. Don’t you…remember things?”

  “Remember?”

  He got up to go after her but the bedroom door slammed in his face. Cooper beat his fist against it.

  “Yeah, maybe mortality isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” he muttered to the solid wood door. “Do mortal males have to deal with such indecision from their females?” He scuffed fingers through his hair and ended up tugging until his scalp hurt.

  “I can have any woman I want,” he said, yet not convincing himself. “Just have to step inside the club and they fall all over me.” />
  He turned and leaned against the door. His shoulder had healed as had the skin on his back. So why wasn’t he walking away? Heading to the clubs? He had an itch and he knew how to get it scratched.

  By all of Beneath, there was a perfectly good muse in the city and she literally had his name imprinted on her flesh.

  Was it because Pyx had become a challenge? If he could land a Sinistari demon in his bed then look out, angelic ranks, because he was king of the Fallen.

  Yeah, whatever. He had no inclinations toward achieving such a stupid accomplishment. He could care less what his fellow Fallen thought of him. They didn’t think of him. Each was single-minded, focused on the goal of finding their muse. If they had been summoned.

  “The vampires are summoning us to catch a nephilim.”

  A creature that rivaled any of the boogies and monsters the mortals had nightmares about. It fed on blood and flesh, and did not discern from man, woman or child. One drop of its blood could give great power to the vampire bloodline that had descended from nephilim.

  Cooper had much better things to do than sit around waiting for the girl to get her act together. He had some vampires to slay.

  He flashed out of Pyx’s apartment.

  After changing shirts, Pyx opened her bedroom door in time to see the Fallen flash away.

  She leaned in the doorway, and bowed her head. “Thought he was interested in me. Huh.”

  Studying her fingers, she toyed with the dried blue blood. Cool to the touch, it had come from a man more hot-blooded than even she.

  A man she admired for he thought of her more than himself. His easy acceptance of humanity was rubbing off on her.

  It was ridiculous to think she could have a relationship with Cooper.

  But she still thought about it.

  Why prove herself to her fellow Sinistari when, if she did slay a Fallen, she could take a human soul and remain on earth. Never return to Beneath. Never again concern herself with what some demon thought of her.

  The hitch was the slaying an angel part.

  If the vampires were summoning Fallen to earth, could she get them to summon another for her to slay?