by J. Lynn
…
Michael followed the two men through the streets of DC in a surreal daze. After he’d stripped off his navy-blue uniform shirt and vest, he felt strangely naked in his Under Armor shirt. He didn’t even know why he’d agreed. Maybe it was because underneath the disbelief, confusion, and even a little bit of fear, he was curious. And besides knocking him out earlier, none of them had tried to seriously injure him, and he knew they could.
The only thought that propelled him through the fog was the knowledge that he could leave this all behind him soon. Chalk it up to a night full of lunatics; wake up tomorrow to happily go about his business as if none of this had ever happened.
They turned off the sidewalk, heading across a street bridge. He wished they’d given him his gun back. Shit, he could be recognized even out of uniform. Streets around here were not kind. “Where are we going?”
Remy glanced at him. “You know the old reform school near Congress Heights?”
He did. Everyone knew where Congress Heights was. It had been one of the most neglected neighborhoods in DC, and only recently had urban developers moved in. With the increased police presence and general cleanup effort, it had improved, but it still wasn’t great.
The three of them turned onto Clay Street, and looming ahead was the once-prestigious reform school that had long since been forgotten. He frowned as Remy grabbed the chain-link fence and, with a simple twist of his wrist, snapped the lock.
His stomach went cold. What the hell have I gotten myself into? He may not believe in angels and all that crap, but there was no doubt there was something drastically different about these people. Maybe they were the product of some covert government experiment gone awry. More believable than the Nephilim bullshit, but still pretty terrifying.
The lawn hadn’t been tended in years, and grass had grown to his knees. Bushes and weeds choked the old circular driveway, and sticker bushes latched onto his pants.
“Are we going in there?” he wondered out loud.
Remy passed him a grin before disappearing around the side of the building. Michael turned to Luke, folding his arms. “What are we doing?”
“Remy is going to find us a way in. One that isn’t too obvious.”
“Why would we want to go in there?”
The smirk on Luke’s face deepened. “You ask a lot of stupid questions, you know that?”
His anger flared. He wanted nothing more than to punch the cocky grin off his face, and although the man was a good deal bigger than him, Michael figured he could take him. Or at least do some damage in the process.
Luke motioned him to follow around the side of the run-down brick building. “Come on, Remy,” he muttered, “we don’t have much time.”
Much time until what? God, did he even want to know?
One of the boards covering a lower window splintered apart, startling him. Remy stuck his head out, reminding him of a deranged Jack Nicholson. “Come on in.”
He halted. Every cell in his body warned him not to go in there. Besides the fact that he was pretty sure the floors had to be rotten to the point that it wouldn’t be safe, he also inherently knew he wouldn’t like where any of this was heading.
Luke stepped to move behind him. He held out his arm. “In.”
Michael gritted his teeth. Seeing no way out of this, he threw a dirty look over his shoulder and climbed through the window as carefully as possible. Once inside, he could barely detect his surroundings.
Luke jumped through the window and landed on his feet beside him. How can such a large guy be so quiet?
“They are near.” Remy headed toward the door. “Follow me.”
Michael did his best to keep up with him through the maze of broken desks and toppled chairs. Wherever moonlight was able to filter through, he saw gang graffiti painted on the walls and floors.
They left the room in silence, entering the hallway. He was careful to track Remy’s sure footsteps. Sections of the floor had rotted away, but somehow the guys avoided them without even looking. Maybe they were ninjas.
He almost laughed but doubted either man would appreciate that.
They went upstairs and, tired of the silence, he demanded to know what the plan was. Luke threw him a cynical smile, but Remy was a little more informative. “Something you need to see that will bring things into perspective.”
He hesitated at the top of the stairs. “There isn’t anything you can show me that will bring any perspective to this night.”
Luke chuckled but didn’t respond as they made their way down the hallway. At the end, Remy pushed open double doors covered with faded red paint and rust.
Half expecting something to jump out in front of him, Michael was a little disappointed when he realized they were above an empty gymnasium. He turned to Remy. “Is there a game I’m unaware of?”
Remy tipped back his head, laughing. “A game of sorts.”
Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the cracked floor below them. The bleachers had been removed, and only one basketball pole remained. The net was missing and the backboard hung at an odd angle. He felt the men go still beside him.
Luke tapped him on his arm. “Be quiet.”
He wanted to break that goddamned finger, but footsteps echoed across the floor and something…something fluttered in his stomach. It was the kind of feeling he got when he was about to make an arrest but stronger—much stronger. Nervous excitement mingled with apprehension crawled out of his stomach and traveled up his spine in a shudder. He leaned to peer over the railing, but Luke threw his arm out.
“Move back,” he hissed.
From his new vantage point he could still see the area below but was hidden in the shadows that crept over the walls and ceiling.
Someone entered from the court-level doors on the opposite side of the gymnasium, stopping in the middle of the court, beneath a shaft of moonlight streaming through a broken window. It was a boy. Young. Probably not even in his midtwenties by the looks of it. His black hair was spiked, and he wore heavy eyeliner that accented unusually pale eyes. Michael could make out a band on the boy’s black shirt, but the logo had faded.
His palms grew sweaty. “Who is that?” he whispered.
Luke glanced at him sternly. “He was once a Nephilim,” he responded in a hushed voice, “but he’s not warm and fuzzy anymore. He’s a minion.”
The boy raised his head, sniffing the air. Michael’s eyes widened as the kid reached into a pocket of his black cargo pants, withdrawing a nasty-looking knife. The kind he imagined was used to gut a deer.
“What is he doing?”
Luke exhaled slowly. “He’s looking for Lily. He senses us, but he thinks it’s her.”
Michael was caught off guard by the little spitfire’s sudden appearance across from them. Perched on the edge of the balcony railing, she had her arms at her sides, her head bent down.
“Just watch,” Luke whispered.
He did, transfixed by Lily’s wild beauty. She crouched there with an ease that was uncommon. With her hair pulled up in a messy bun and a rather pleased smile on her face, she appeared casually bored, as if she were about to go grocery shopping or something. Then, under his watchful stare, she stood gracefully and jumped to the floor below.
A surge of protectiveness flared from deep within him. Lily was a girl—and they were supposed to just stand there? Fuck that. Every instinct in him demanded he do something.
Luke and Remy must’ve sensed his sudden shock because they moved to block him. But he pushed, and he pushed hard. Both men fell to the side, and he easily closed the distance between them and the railing. He leaned over, yelling her name. “Lily!”
The boy’s head jerked up, his mouth open. He let out a scream that sliced through Michael’s insides. The howl traveled all the way to his soul, leaving it cold. The boy’s mouth hung wide, distorting until it became a gaping hole of darkness that nearly swallowed his entire face.
The sound kept coming, screeching until it turne
d into a keening that filled the entire gymnasium. “Nephilim!” he screamed.
Heart thundering, Michael stumbled back from the railing. He couldn’t have imagined that. Not in his wildest dreams. There was no way he could take that sight back or forget it.
That thing on the floor with Lily was not human.
Holy fuck, everything they’d said was true.
Chapter Six
Lily was exceptionally proud of herself. She’d tracked the minion clear across DC, and then practically threw herself at him. Once he’d gained sight of her, the chase was on, and she had led him right where she had wanted.
But then she jumped, landing on the balls of her feet, and everything went to hell the moment Michael called out her name. The emo minion let out his battle cry, whirling on her. She caught sight of the sharp blade poised high in the air. There were several feet between them, but the young minion scaled the distance with a single leap.
Minions were stupid, but they were strong.
She shook her wrists and the silver, icicle-shaped daggers released from the cuffs she wore. Inches from her, the minion came down with the knife clenched in one fist. Raising an arm aimed straight at his chest, she laughed. Only a blow to the heart from silver inscribed and honed in holy water would kill one of their own.
Nephilim had designed those blades. Minions would simply use anything to cut into the Nephilim until nothing was left or rip them limb from limb. It could be a bloody mess if caught unprepared, but she rarely missed. This time would prove no different.
Her blade made contact with the minion’s chest, sinking through the soft flesh and bone with a quickness that required little effort.
The minion’s transparent eyes widened. “Shit.”
“Sorry. You picked the wrong side, buddy,” she whispered, pulling out the blade. By the time the blades retracted into the cuffs, the minion trembled once, and then his skin started to flake off. Her shoulders slumped as apathy filled her. The young Nephilim had a choice. Like humans, they all had free will, and this one chose to turn minion. Within seconds, not much more than a fine layer of dust remained.
She glanced up and found her new targets. “Really?” she yelled, throwing up her arms. “You couldn’t keep him quiet for a few more seconds?”
Luke had the decency to cringe. “Sorry. He’s stronger than he looks.”
Disgusted with them, she shook her head. With a running start, she launched herself onto the balcony, landing on the railing in front of Michael.
His face paled. “Christ.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped in front of him. “That’s what we needed to show you.”
Michael was rubbing a spot over his heart as if it bothered him.
“You okay, man?” asked Remy.
Luke snorted. “I think he’s officially checked out.”
She smacked Luke on his arm. “Michael, are you here with us?”
He still didn’t answer. Hoping the fresh air would rouse him, they led him back through the abandoned school and into the night.
Once outside, Michael bent over and rested his hands on his knees, gulping the air as if he was starving for oxygen. Luke scowled before drifting off toward the front of the building, but Remy and Lily remained by Michael’s side, giving him as much time as he needed to come to grips with what he had just witnessed.
Lily tried to remember the first time she had seen a Nephilim who had gone bad. She’d been around ten, and Nathaniel and Luke had captured a lone female who had turned minion. In an attempt to somehow bring her back, they’d locked her in one of the cells at the Sanctuary. It was the first time she heard the horrific screams. She had been so frightened, and the sounds had been so horrible, that she had hurled. She’d spent the night latched onto Luke with a death grip, too afraid to sleep alone.
Perverted beyond saving, the minion eventually had to be put down. As terrified as Lily had been, it had been hard for her to understand that.
Michael slowly stood, scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. “What was that?”
“What they told you he was,” she answered gently. “A minion.”
He turned to her. “All that shit…is true?”
She smiled. “Every bit of it, and the part I told you about your father—especially that part.”
His eyes bored into her as he spoke. “I don’t…know what to say. I’ve never believed in that stuff, but I know what I saw was real.”
“As real as a minion-horde attack,” she quipped.
“Fuck,” he said.
Remy stepped forward, clapping the man on the shoulder. “How about we call it a night?”
He agreed weakly, and the bewilderment settled back on his face. “I want to go home.”
She turned to Remy wearily, and he nodded. Michael needed to go back to the Sanctuary where he would be safe. Now a minion plus a possessed human had spotted him. He had to already be the topic of discussion among the Fallen.
Remy whispered something to him she couldn’t hear. She trusted Remy with Michael. Of all of them, he was the most understanding and the least impatient. That brought her back to Luke and the conversation she needed to have with him.
She took one last look at the young cop and felt an odd stirring inside of her. Was it sympathy? Possibly even understanding? Pity? Pity got people killed. She pushed whatever it was back down, leaving to find Luke.
He was outside by the gate. She watched him quietly for a moment. His usually expressive lips formed a hard line. He ran a hand through his short, brown waves, cursing softly. Luke had changed since Anna’s death. Became harder and colder. She never really knew what their relationship had been, but she assumed it was more than a friendship. It made her death so much harder for him.
She stepped to his side, tapping his arm. “Hey.”
He glanced down at her, a wry smile forming on his face. “How is our newest recruit?”
Shrugging, she stared across the empty street. “He’s doing as expected.”
“Great,” he muttered.
She turned back to him. “I don’t like this, either. I think it’s foolish to try to train him now, but what can we do? They’ll get him one way or another if we don’t.”
He frowned but didn’t say anything.
She reached out, lightly wrapping her hand around his. “An order is an order. This is what Nathaniel wants. At least if he’s trained, he can protect himself.”
“I don’t give a shit what Nathaniel wants.”
She sighed. “Then care about what I want. I can’t do this alone. You know I’m terrible with the newbie Nephilim. I end up breaking them, and I need your help with this. Please, Luke. Be nice for me.”
He stared down at their intertwined hands. With a sigh that said he knew she was wrapping him around her little pinkie, he consented. “All right…I’ll try.”
Finally, something was going right today.
“But if he talks smack to me again, I can’t promise anything.”
“Okay. That’s a deal,” she agreed. Deciding to test out his new attitude, she asked for her first favor. “Can you make sure Remy gets him back to the Sanctuary? I’m beat.” She started to pull away, but Luke tightened his grip on her hand.
“Why don’t you stay at the Sanctuary?”
She rolled her shoulders. “I want to go to my place.”
“Nathaniel doesn’t like that you stay there,” he countered. “He doesn’t even like the idea of you having your own place.”
But it was her place, her little piece of the world, and she didn’t have to share it with anyone. It was she who remodeled the studio apartment, carving it into something uniquely hers. The small garden on the balcony she painstakingly worked on whenever she had time was her personal treasure. It was where she went to be at peace, and where she escaped to when she needed to be normal.
There she could blend in. Leave her apartment through the door, walk down the stairs and out into the ordinary world where angels just existed in the bi
ble and on paintings. Outside her place, there were movie theaters, restaurants, and cafés. The busy hustle warmed her in a way the Sanctuary never could.
She wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not for Luke, not for Nathaniel.
“I thought you didn’t give a shit what Nathaniel wants,” she reminded him.
His lips curved into a genuine smile. “When it comes to you I do.”
And Anna, but she wasn’t ignorant enough to mention that. “Luke, I’m not going to cave.”
Jaw tensing, he let her hand slip free. “Be careful.”
She stood on the tips of her toes, and he leaned down. She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and murmured, “As always.”
“I mean it.”
“You know you’re my favorite. Right?”
He blew out a breath. “Whatever. Go.”
Grinning, she pivoted and took off. A lot of the Nephilim preferred more normal modes of traveling, like taking the subway, but she favored the more solitary route to get to where she was going, which was not home like Luke expected. Instead, she went in the opposite direction. Hunting the minion and her subsequent kill had her blood all fired up. And okay, the run-in with Julian also had her wound up. She was antsy. There was no way she’d be going home like the good little Nephilim Nathaniel and Luke expected of her.
She darted between two apartment buildings. Making sure no one was watching, she crouched and pushed off the ground. She made it onto the fire escape on the seventh floor. From there, she easily jumped to the other building. Hopscotching across the old steel staircases, she reached the roof quickly.
Leaping from one shadowed rooftop to the next, she exhaled deeply. She loved the rush of air, the uncertainty of the fall, and the way the night reached down to her. As close to flying as possible, she was at her best. This is what a full-blooded angel must feel—weightless and free.
Here, Lily didn’t think about Anna. In the air, she didn’t worry about Nathaniel or Luke. As she flew over the buildings, she didn’t think of Michael and how hard it would be for him. It was just her.
Hopping rooftops like the people on the ground hopped trains, it took her fifteen minutes to scamper down the fire escape next to the club frequented by humans and Nephilim alike. Straightening her skirt, she rounded the squat, two-story brick building and gave the bouncer at Deuces Wild a saucy grin.