by Amy Braun
“Let me take you out for dinner.”
I blinked stupidly. “Dinner? Seriously? Why?”
Now he was the one who was confused. “What do you mean why? You’re the toughest girl I’ve ever met, you don’t take shit from anyone,” he was inches away from me now, “and you’re absolutely stunning.”
I nearly laughed, since I was bruised, soaked in sweat, and my hair was a mess. I was far from attractive. But that didn’t stop Mateo from putting his hand on my waist and pulling me closer. He kissed my temple where I’d been hit. His lips stayed there longer than necessary to work magic on me. I wasn’t even aware of the throbbing pain. All I felt was his hard, sweat-slicked body close to mine. His hot, musky scent drifted over my like a fog.
Mateo took his lips away from my head and cupped my chin. My body responded with a racing heart and a heat that stretched from the top of my hair to the tips of my toes.
That should have worried me. I knew a little bit about hormones from school, but was this just my body responding to him? Was I supposed to be this out of breath, or was I still tired from sparring? I’d never had a boyfriend before. I tended to beat up anyone who touched me without permission. But this felt different. I wanted Mateo to keep touching me. It felt good. Gentle. It was almost too much to handle, but I didn’t ask him to stop. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to know what he would do next.
His thumb stroked the bottom of my lip, teasing me in the worst way I could imagine. I was completely under his spell, and I didn’t care at all.
“This is a bad idea,” I whispered. “Your dad would kill me.”
Mateo grinned. “No, he wouldn’t. He likes you.”
I winced. He backed up a little, scanning my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said too quickly. “It’s... I just don’t want to piss him off. You know how he gets when he’s mad. All murderous, and stuff.”
Mateo frowned. For a second I thought he was upset. Then he took my face in both his hands. The warmth of his skin sank into my face and made me a little dizzy.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Constance. Not even him. I promise.”
My heart skipped. Of all the Blood Thorns, Mateo was the most loyal to his father. He never questioned orders, never gave more than a few second thoughts. To him, Emilio’s word was law. Anyone who crossed it ended up dead or worse. I walked on a high wire when it came to Emilio, but Mateo was willing to follow me across it. Knowing how deeply he cared put a flutter in my stomach and a sweet ache in my chest. Mateo dipped his head lower, bringing his lips closer to mine–
“Mr. Rocha, sir!”
“God fucking damn it,” he cursed, backing up. He glared at the guard who had just run into the training room. “I’m kind of busy right now,” he snarled.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but, there’s a problem in the kitchen, and your father isn’t here–”
I pushed past Mateo and rushed the guard. “What problem?” I demanded.
The guard glanced from me to Mateo, then back to me again. “There’s been a fire in the kitchen–”
That was all he managed to say before I shoved him aside and ran up the basement steps. Once I hit the top floor, I followed the smoke that was billowing out of the swinging double doors at the far right of the hacienda. The smell of burned food and smoke funneled out toward me. I shouldered my way through the doors. The kitchen staff was running around with fire extinguishers, dousing the flames coming from the stove. Windows had been opened to let out of some of the smoke, but the blaze was huge, and three men were needed to put it out. One woman stood off to the side with her friend, clutching her blackened hand to her chest and screaming bloody murder.
I ignored all the shouts and curses, looking for my sister. I found her sitting in the far corner by some shelves. She huddled her knees to her chest, tears streaking down her face. I ran down to her side and put my hands on her shoulders.
“Dro, what happened? Are you okay?”
She choked on a sob and threw her arms around me. I hugged her tightly.
“It was me,” she whispered. “Valentina was being mean to Lucy and I told her to stop, then she got angry and started calling me names, and she was standing by the pot and I just got so mad that I grabbed her hand...”
Dro crushed me closer to her. “I didn’t mean to do it, Connie, I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t know I was gonna hurt her–”
“Shh, hey, it’s all right, little sister.”
“What the hell happened?” Mateo’s voice from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder at him. He was standing next to Valentina, the woman whose fingers were burned. By now, the fire was put out, but half of the stove was melted.
“That little witch burned me!” Valentina screamed, pointing at Dro with her good hand. “She touched me and set my hand on fire! She’s the Devil’s child! Putita del Diablo!”
Mateo slapped her across the face. The entire room fell silent. He looked at Valentina with so much fury I almost cringed.
“Don’t accuse a little girl for an accident, Valentina. Not when I know how careless you are in here.”
“But, but Mr. Rocha–”
“Did anyone else see Andromeda burn Valentina?” he asked the staff.
The cooks looked away, too scared to meet Mateo’s eyes. No one spoke up to defend her, not even the friend standing at her side. He turned his eyes back on Valentina.
“That’s what I thought,” he snarled. “Don’t even try to justify yourself. Andromeda and her sister are family. Be grateful I’m not going to tell my father about this.”
Valentina shuddered and looked away. Mateo turned and addressed the rest of the nervous kitchen staff.
“Someone get Valentina to the hospital right now. Tell them I sent her, and give her the best care. The rest of you, clean this up. I’ll order another stove and have it replaced before my father comes back from his business trip.”
The kitchen staff hurried to get to work. Mateo watched them all to make sure no one was wasting time, then turned his attention to me and my sister.
“Is she gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, smoothing Dro’s hair. “She’s just rattled. That’s all.”
Mateo smiled kindly. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in my dad’s office.”
I smiled at him and watched him walk away after Valentina left. I thought about everything I had just seen him do. Mateo was dangerous. There was no question about that. But the more I thought about how he’d handled this situation and how gentle he’d been in the training room, the more I reasoned that he would make good on his promise. He would stand up for us against anyone. He would keep us safe...
I’d been so lost in my memories I didn’t know Sephiel stopped walking until I nearly collided with him. He was looking up, watching dusk begin to fall. Dark clouds spiraled up from the far side of the city. Dark clouds I quickly recognized as plumes of smoke. Dro fell silent beside me.
“Sephiel?” Warrick asked. “Are you all right?”
“Someone is burning a house of God.”
There was a strange lack of emotion in his voice that put me on edge. A fire was a fire, and I wasn’t really surprised that Sephiel would know where a piece of holy ground was. But he continued staring at the smoke, and was so stiff he could have started a career as a lamppost.
“All right,” I said, hoping we could move on, “so we’re not going that way.”
Blaring sirens zipped past me. I quickly turned my back to the road, in case some of the sirens belonged to cop cars. Being arrested was really going to hinder my ability to fight in a supernatural war.
“Come on, we need to get out of here before more cops drive by.”
I started to move to the head of the group, trying to remember old streets and shortcuts to get out of the city. Everyone but Sephiel followed me. I glanced back. He was still watching the smoke.
“I can feel the consecration in the ground being stripped away,” the
angel went on, “This is the work of demons.”
“Seph, we need to leave.”
The auburn-haired angel stayed where he was. I walked over to him, clutching his arm. Sephiel’s bright blue eyes shifted over to my dark brown ones. For the first time, I could see the age in them. I didn’t know how old Sephiel really was, but he always managed to look human. He was one of the few Seraphim who respected mortals. If it weren’t for his vanishing acts and his spells, I would think he was just a very strange man with a white leather fetish.
I wasn’t seeing the humanized Sephiel right now. I was seeing Sephiel the angel, a guardian and warrior for Heaven. A stoic, immoveable, and fierce soldier. That was when I got an idea of what he wanted.
“You can’t do anything there, Sephiel. It’s too late.”
His eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw clenching tightly. “They are violating a house of God. A place where lost souls find salvation. They have destroyed a place of hope.”
Sephiel sounded as angry as he did sad. He was the only angel I knew who wanted to save humanity, not barrel over them to restructure Hell. I wasn’t sure what he loved so much about humans. His ex-partner, Rorikel, hated us and sometimes it was hard for me to remember what made us so special. But then I looked over my shoulder at Dro, Warrick, and Max, and understood what he was trying to save. I looked at Sephiel again.
“No,” I told him. “They destroyed some blessed earth and a building. Real hope only gets destroyed if you let it.”
I wasn’t known for my words of wisdom to anyone but Dro, and on the rare occasion, Max. I was a walking cynic. I didn’t completely trust Sephiel, didn’t fully understand his motives, but I needed him on my side. I wasn’t strong enough to fight both Heaven and Hell alone. Besides, I liked him. He was a good fighter and he would help me protect my sister. He was also the only angel I knew who would actually have a conversation with me and not bring in a superiority complex.
When I felt Sephiel prod into my brain, I didn’t immediately shut him out. I let him see that I believed what I said before I pushed him away. He relaxed, the soft, almost human look coming back into his bright blue eyes. This time, the look held respect.
“You are equitable in this, Constance. I am sorry for my outburst.”
I shrugged. “We’ve all had one. It was just your turn.”
Sephiel smirked and took the lead again. Dro offered him a kind smile as he passed, no doubt hearing what I’d said. She turned the smile to me and took Max’s hand before following the angel. Which left me with Warrick and his gorgeous, piercing stare. He read my eyes like he was trying to see beyond them, maybe hunting for the soul beneath. I don’t know what he was looking for, but after a while he seemed to be satisfied with whatever he found. He gave me a small smile, then started after the rest of the group. He didn’t wait for me, but at least he wasn’t avoiding me anymore.
I sighed, and wondered when I became so damn compassionate.
***
It was a good thing I had my conversation with Sephiel when I did, because when we arrived downtown, there was a riot.
All of the shops and cafes were burning, and half the cars were on fire. Broken glass littered the streets. People were screaming and running from the chaos. Kids in dark hoodies were throwing bricks through windows and stealing from buildings that weren’t on fire. Police locked themselves in their cars and shouted for backup. Street preachers and lost believers waved cardboard signs saying the end was nigh.
We hadn’t meant to go this way. We were pushing for the edge of the city until Max used his gifts to tell us the military was arriving to establish quarantine. Roadblocks were set up on all the major roads out of the city. Nothing could get in or out.
We darted into an alley. Sephiel and Warrick stood at the mouth of it, watching the quickly emptying street. Warrick drew his sawed-off shotgun from the lining of his jacket. I got my hatchet out from my hip. Sephiel hadn’t drawn his sword from thin air yet, but he was probably itching for it.
“Tell me again why we aren’t using that damn teleporting thing?” I asked angrily.
“The movens caeli is what humans may refer to as a battery,” Sephiel explained without looking away from the alley. “Its power can be drained, no matter how it is used. Until then, I can only transport two people at once, and each extra person can wear on my abilities.”
“I seriously doubt we have time for that, Sephiel,” Warrick said. Another burst of flame lit up the street, making him cringe and settle back into the shadows.
“Guys,” Max said with some impatience, “I just got a flash. The army is closing in. We kinda need a decision, here.”
I glanced from my sister to Max, weighing the options. We couldn’t go forward, and we couldn’t go back. There wasn’t really a good decision. Sharp green eyes and smooth blue eyes fixed on me when I spoke. “Seph, take Dro and Max and get them to safety. Then come back for us.”
“No,” Dro countered immediately, giving me a hard look. “Take Max and Warrick, then come back for Constance and me. We’ll be okay here, you just need to–”
She suddenly gasped, doubling over and pressing her hand to her chest. I kept her from falling by holding her shoulders and waiting for her to breathe normally. Max stood beside her, putting a hand on her back and looking nervous. Sephiel watched anxiously, leaving Warrick to focus on guarding the alley entrance.
“Dro? Talk to me, what’s wrong?”
Her breath was shaky, and when her eyes finally did meet mine, they were filled with sheer terror.
“Night... wretches,” she shuddered. “They have wretches with the night!”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. My sister might not be human, but she wasn’t crazy. She was trying to explain something to me, but she was afraid of it. Max didn’t seem to know what she was talking about either. He closed his eyes the way he often did when he was trying to use his psychic gift. I looked at Sephiel. He had gone completely rigid, and seemed paler than before.
He knew what she was talking about. And it terrified him.
Beside him, Warrick looked just as uneasy. He walked over to us. Warrick gently put his hand on my sister’s shoulder.
“Dro, are you absolutely sure that’s what you sensed?”
She straightened and looked at him with the same scared expression. She held her breath and nodded quickly. He dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“Can someone give me a fucking clue here?” I demanded.
Warrick was moving to the front of the alley, looking more serious than I had ever seen him. Sephiel was still frozen in a panic-stricken state that worried me. Finally, he answered my question.
“She is not indicating it as you may assume, as in ‘the dark of night.’ She indicates the word knight, as in a demon Knight.” His eyes were grim. “They are the most elite of Lucifer’s soldiers. The assassins for Hell.”
I didn’t need any further explanation. I knew earth-shattering bad news when I heard it.
“Do not engage the Knight,” Sephiel continued. “It is too strong.”
He reached behind his back. I saw a subtle gold glow from his hand, which quickly elongated into the gold hilt of a sword. Sephiel drew the long broadsword over his shoulder, looking stern and formidable.
“Focus on the Wretches,” he instructed. “You may survive their attacks longer.”
He disappeared before I asked him what the fuck that meant and where the fuck he was going. I was going to kick his ass twice for that. I looked at Warrick again.
“What the fuck are Wretches?”
“Angels that were captured by demons and taken into Hell,” he said, glancing out of the alley again. “They were tortured into madness and became rabid pets for Royalty.” He hesitated, then added, “Kind of like hellhounds.”
I didn’t need further explanation there, either. I’d faced a hellhound once before, and was almost torn to pieces by it. If Wretches were even a li
ttle bit like hellhounds, we were about to be well and truly fucked.
“We have to get to the edge of the city,” I said. “Fuck the quarantine.”
“What about Sephiel?” Max asked as I left Dro in his arms.
I tried not to look too angry and or too nervous. “You tell me where he went, we’ll go find him. But he took off, Max. We have no idea what he’s going to do.”
He gave me an unhappy look. I was just as upset, but I didn’t have time to baby him.
“There’s nothing we can do for Seph right now, but he wouldn’t have left so quickly without a reason. We won’t leave him behind, all right?”
That seemed to satisfy him, though not very much.
“If we’re going, we have to go now,” Warrick said, glancing out of the alley. “There are people walking with the Wretches.”
“More Possessors,” my sister whispered.
Which meant they would be much harder to fight. Since Max was able to console my sister by himself, I walked toward Warrick to get a better look at what we were dealing with.
“Ever fought one a Wretch before?” I asked as I made my way to his back.
“No,” he replied, not budging an inch. “But I’ve heard of them. I prayed to God that I would never see or have to fight one.”
I stood by his side and peered out of the alley in the direction he was looking. Beyond the heat waves seeping off burning cars, past the few people running for their lives, I saw the Possessors moving through the street with the Wretches.
They were about fifty feet away so most of the details were fuzzy, but the possessed humans looked normal. Construction workers, mechanics, and businessmen, judging by the neon vests, coveralls and suits they wore. The only way to tell they were possessed was by getting in their face and seeing the pitch-blackness of their eyes. Usually that was the same time they decided to beat you to death.
There were about six of them, and they were all gripping leashes they could barely control even with supernatural strength.
For a moment I thought the two things they were holding were pasty hellhounds. Then I saw the broken bones sticking up and out of their backs. They had a hunched, shambling gait, moving like crippled spiders. Long hair hung in strips from their heads. They were impossibly pale. But then again, I doubted they ever saw the sun in Hell.