by Larissa Ione
Planting her feet, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Wait. I need more.”
He gazed down at her, his brow furrowed. “More what?”
“Information.”
“Such as?”
A bird flew by, a bird that looked a lot like a robin. But hey, sure, if there were angels living in Hell, why not robins?
Aurora looked around, wondering if all the people milling about were his brothers and sisters. “You said your father rules this realm? Who is he?”
Please don’t say Satan. Please don’t say Satan. Please don’t say Satan.
“His name is Azagoth,” he said, and she nearly giggled at how foolish she’d been to think, even for a measly second, that a legendary being as evil as Satan could father angels. “You probably know him as the Grim Reaper.”
Her knees went wobbly again, but for a very different reason. She stumbled, but in a blur of motion, Hawkyn caught her, steadying her against his hard body.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I took too much blood.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No. This is just a lot to take in. I mean, forty-eight hours ago I wasn’t even sure God was real, and now I’m in...in...Hell. With the Grim Reaper.”
“I get it.” He nodded in sympathy. “I thought I was human until one of my Memitim brothers plucked me out of a bad situation and dropped me inside a Belgian castle full of fellow angels.”
“And how did you take it when your world was turned upside down?”
Winking, he gave her a panty-melter of a grin. “I passed out cold.”
She laughed, doubting it was true but appreciating that he was trying to make her comfortable in a freaky situation. But the reality caught up with her again when one of the demons in the statue she’d seen a few minutes ago moved, curling its lips and revealing another row of sharp six-inch teeth.
“Thank you for getting me away from Drayger,” she said, keeping one eye on the creepy statue, “but I can’t stay here indefinitely. I can stay at a hotel in Portland or in one of the guest rooms at the spa where I work.” Her boss, Jenna, was always letting employees stay when they needed to, so it most likely wouldn’t be a problem. Just an inconvenience.
“No, you can’t.” He waved at a group of people talking around a picnic table. So normal. So weird. “Drayger is dangerous. He can somehow track his victims anywhere in the world in hours, and until we find out how, you can’t be anywhere he can easily get to you.”
“This is bullshit.” He’d started moving again, but she refused to budge. None of this made sense, and if her life was going to be upended, she wanted to know why. “I shouldn’t have to run from someone who should be in jail, and who would be in jail if I went to the police. And you still haven’t explained why you’re protecting the bastard.”
He opened his mouth, and she could see it in his face. He was going to spew more “It’s a long story” BS. No. Just no.
She jammed a finger into his sternum and got right up in his face. On her tiptoes. Later she’d probably be horrified by her audacity in going toe to toe with an angel, but in this moment, for her own sanity, she needed to be in charge.
“I want to know what the deal is.” She poked hard. “Now.”
“You’re right.” Reaching up, he engulfed her hand in his. He didn’t push her away. He just looked at her, almost with amusement. “I wasn’t going to do this, but come on.”
He wheeled around and, keeping hold of her hand, which she angled so he wouldn’t touch the spot near her index finger that would trigger a download of his nuclear-grade energy, he led her through a side door of the massive Greek manor. Once inside, he guided her through a shiny, modern kitchen that could have belonged to an upscale restaurant.
“This kitchen serves my father and his mate, and all his senior staff. There are more kitchens in the dorm buildings that serve Memitim and Unfallen.”
“Unfallen?”
“Fallen angels who haven’t entered Sheoul,” he explained. “When an angel loses his wings, he or she is dropped into the Earthly realm and has two choices. They can enter Sheoul and complete their fall from grace in trade for evil powers, or they can remain powerless and disgraced, but still have a chance of redeeming themselves.” He pushed open a door and they stepped into an elegant dining hall, its walls covered in tapestries and art depicting scenes from eras all over the world. And underworld. “They live here because it’s safe.”
“What do Unfallen angels have to fear?”
“Everything. Since they lose their angelic powers and don’t have fallen angel powers either, they’re weak. Heavenly angels will kill them, and fallen angels will drag them against their will into Sheoul, which turns them evil. Demons have little use for them, either, and they score a lot of bragging points by being able to say they killed an angel, even if they’re just Unfallen.” He glanced at his watch. “We should still have time...”
“Time for what? You were supposed to be telling me why you’re protecting Drayger.”
He knocked on another door. “I’m enlisting help to do that.”
The door swung open, revealing a smaller room, cozy, with a couple of sofas, overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table all arranged in a circle. As they walked inside, two women looked up from the papers and colored markers scattered on the tabletop.
“Hey, bro.” One of them gave a little wave and tucked a lock of dark curls behind her ear. “Lilliana and I were just planning next week’s menu. Any requests?”
“Yeah. How about that New York strip steak you make? The one with the feta and caramelized onions.” He grinned at Aurora. “It’s awesome.” His palm pressed lightly on her back. “Suzanne, Lilliana, this is Aurora. I have to summon someone from the embassy, and I was hoping that while I’m doing that you could fill her in on...well...this.” He made a gesture that she figured encompassed all the weirdness.
Lilliana seemed to understand, because she looked both amused and sympathetic. “Of course. But I’m going to need some context.”
Hawkyn hesitated, and Aurora started to sweat a little. Then she sweated a lot when he finally said, “I don’t want any lectures about how I fucked up.”
Clapping with delight, Suzanne sat up straight, an impish smile on her slightly rounded face. “Ooh, my perfect big brother messed up. What stupid thing did you do that I get to hold over your head?”
He jerked his thumb at Aurora. “I saved her life.”
“And he still hasn’t explained why that’s a bad thing,” Aurora muttered.
Hawkyn sighed. “One of my Primori was going to kill her, and I saved her.”
Suzanne’s eyes flared with surprise while Lilliana patted the cushion next to her. “Come have a seat, Aurora. We’ll get you a cup of tea and something to eat, and then we’ll explain everything.”
“Thank you, Lilliana.” Hawkyn glanced over at Suzanne. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. Will you make sure Aurora is settled into a guest room?”
“Did you clear it with Cat?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I was hoping you’d do that too.”
“Don’t try Cipher’s charm tricks on me,” Suzanne said with a wag of her finger. “They don’t work.”
“So that’s a yes?” At Suzanne’s annoyed huff, Hawkyn’s grin turned victorious. “Thanks, sis.” He turned to Aurora. “You can ask these two anything you want. They’ll be straight with you, and you can trust them. I’ll see you soon.”
He took off before she could figure out how she felt about being left in a strange Hell dimension with two strangers, but ultimately, it was better than being back in Drayger’s cargo container.
She hoped.
* * * *
Hawkyn sent a summons to both the Memitim Council and the embassy, figuring either could help him out. Whoever they sent as representatives would be pissed to know he’d sent a double summons, but at this point, he didn’t give a shit. He needed answers.
He paced like a lion in a cage as he waited, his p
atience in tatters as the clock ticked off the hour mark. Finally, just as he was about to send another set of summons, an Ascended brother he didn’t know materialized at the Summoning Stone, his dark skin and hair glowing even after the light beam that accompanied his arrival faded.
“I am Demetrius, Ninth Chief of Embassy Operations, son of Azagoth and Luscindia. What is your request, Hawkyn, son of Azagoth and Ulnara?”
First, he wanted Demetrius to lay off the formality. Hawkyn would take Jacob’s “What do you want, asshole?” over an overstuffed, pompous douchebag with too much starch in his holy robes.
But he probably shouldn’t say that.
“Hey, bro,” he drawled, countering his half-brother’s formality. “I need to speak to Atticus, keeper of bizarrely detailed notes, son of Azagoth and...some angel.”
“You know the rules. Earthbound Memitim aren’t supposed to be in contact with Ascended Memitim unless they’re employed by the Council or the embassy. Which he is not.”
“Yes, I know,” Hawkyn ground out. “But this is a special circumstance.”
“Aren’t they all?”
Hawkyn gnashed his teeth in frustration. “It’s a stupid rule, and it needs to be changed. Who do I see about that?”
“You can bring it up with a Council member.”
“You mean the Council members who never respond to our summons? How can I bring it up to them if I can’t talk to them?”
Demetrius’s eyes, so brown they were almost black, took in the surroundings with interest, even though his monotone voice couldn’t sound any more bored. “Then contact the embassy.”
“I just did. You told me to contact the Council.”
“That’s because they make the rules,” Demetrius explained slowly, as if he were speaking to Idess’s toddler, even though he was the one with the idiotic circular argument that made no sense. Hawkyn wanted to scream.
“How about you deliver my message?”
“Not my job.”
Hawkyn hated this guy. “Look, I just need a minute with Atticus. We’re told to protect our Primori and their fates at all costs, right? Well, to protect mine, I need to know more about him, and maybe Atticus can fill in some blanks.”
“Hawkyn, this is your second inquiry about the same Primori in just days.” Demetrius crossed his arms over his chest. “Why? Are you in trouble?”
Hawkyn barked out a bitter laugh. “Do you honestly think I’d tell you? The system doesn’t exactly encourage coming forward, not when we’re punished for doing so.”
“That’s the way it’s always been.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s the best way.” And it was exactly why he wanted to join the Council after he Ascended. Shit needed to be changed. The Old Guard needed to be replaced.
In many ways, the earthly realm progressed faster than the demon and Heavenly ones, simply because the short human lifespan meant that there were frequent turnovers of ideas and practices. When a species was immortal, ancient customs persisted in the minds and hearts of ancient beings—ancient beings who were always the ones running the shows. They resisted new things in favor of the old ways, even if the old ways no longer worked in modern ages.
Yes, the Council was in dire need of fresh blood.
Demetrius huffed and rolled his eyes. “If you have nothing other than a request I’m not going to grant, I’ll be going now.” He sneered at something over Hawkyn’s shoulder. “This place is claustrophobic.”
It absolutely was, but there was no way Hawkyn was going to admit that to Demetrius.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” He moved to block his half-brother’s path to the Summoning Stone. “There’s one more thing. I want to know if Jason Drayger’s Fate Line has been altered.”
Demetrius’ dark brow punched down in an angry V. “Are you planning to cold-cock me like you did Jacob?”
“Depends on how much you piss me off.” Hawkyn’s hand clenched as if it had a mind of its own and remembered the feel of crunching into Jacob’s perfect nose. “Come on. Just...give me this. Remember when you were earthbound, worried about your Primori? Imagine how much more effective you could have been if you’d known whether or not your charges were on the right course. We should all have access to that information, don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Demetrius said, his tone softer than it had been before. Even his expression had lost its etched-in-stone seriousness as his gaze turned inward. “This is the way things have always been done. But...” Demetrius looked around and, apparently satisfied that no one was within hearing distance, he turned back to Hawkyn. “No, your Primori’s Fate Line is intact. I checked on it before I came.”
Shock filtered its way through Hawkyn’s system. It was good news, but baffling. He’d truly thought that his interference in Aurora’s abduction had changed the future. Apparently not. So had Aurora been fated to be captured but escape even without Hawkyn’s help? Or would she simply have escaped without seriously injuring Drayger in the parking lot if he hadn’t been there?
And what did they do now?
Chapter Twelve
Aurora was in awe of everything around her, including Lilliana and Suzanne. Suzanne was so...normal. She was upbeat, friendly, and had a passion for cooking and fashion magazines. Lilliana, an angel born and raised in Heaven, was smart, thoughtful, and mated to the Grim Reaper himself.
At that particular revelation, Aurora had choked on the tea and cinnamon scones Suzanne had brought her. And, for the record, the scones were incredible. Hawkyn’s sister had even been nice enough to put a couple in a box along with other homemade pastries for Aurora to take to the Hotel Hell room Suzanne had set her up with.
The room was simple and small, more like a college dorm than a hotel room. There was a single bed, a small desk, and a tiny bathroom, but the TV was nice and there was even a computer, on which she’d spent the last half hour while she waited for Hawkyn.
The revelation that Drayger could track her had stuck with her, engaging her curiosity as much as it terrified her. She was a Wytch, and, while she liked to pretend she was basically human, she wasn’t. She had powers and skills she couldn’t deny, and when a supernatural force was used against her, her instinct to fight back roared to the surface. If Drayger was using a spell to find her, surely she could use one to counter it.
She just had to find one.
Fortunately, in a private, secure corner of the Internet, Wytches gathered to share tips, tricks, and instructions for performing various tasks such as protecting one’s self from psychos who could find you after tasting your blood. And according to a user named Wytches_Float, all she needed to do was taste Drayger’s blood while having sex.
Hard pass on that one.
Another user, HocusPocus, claimed that turning a drop of Drayger’s blood into iron would render him unable to use his tracking ability. Naturally, he didn’t include instructions on how to perform such a feat. Not that she had a way of collecting Drayger’s blood. And really, if she could get his blood, why wouldn’t she just kill him?
Probably because Hawkyn was protecting the bastard.
Lilliana and Suzanne had explained the reason, which made sense in a lot of ways, but none of them made her feel any better.
“Most of the people we protect are decent folks,” Suzanne had said. “But unfortunately, evil people sometimes play a role in the advancement of humanity. Change often comes from tragedy or from evil, even if it isn’t obvious at the time.”
“Really?” Aurora had asked, her skepticism flag flying high. “Such as?”
“Wars are responsible for a lot of medical, industrial, and technological advancements,” she’d said.
“And,” Lilliana had added, “sometimes the good that comes from evil doesn’t happen on a large scale. An evil person or an evil act can effect change in laws or individuals, individuals who will then go on to do great things. Or maybe even just make a difference in their own lives and those around them. We don’t ha
ve to like evil, but there is a place for it. Trust that there’s a plan. Someday, you’ll see.”
“Have you seen it? This plan?” Aurora asked, and a light had suddenly shone in Lilliana’s eyes, an ethereal glow that had captivated her, surrounded her in a blanket of Heavenly warmth.
“I have. I don’t know the future, but I do know that what seems random is not. Everything, from a rude remark a customer makes to a waiter, to a plane crash happens for a reason.”
Great. But Aurora wasn’t going to hold her breath waiting for the reason for her abduction to become clear. Nor was she going to sit around and let Drayger get hold of her again, no matter how important to humanity’s future her death might be.
A tap on the door startled her, and thinking it was Hawkyn, she opened it eagerly. But instead, there was a pretty red-haired female standing there with a clipboard and a small basket full of toiletries.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Cataclysm, but you can call me Cat. I’m in charge of guest housing and hospitality.” She handed Aurora the basket. “A lot of people who stay here come unprepared, so I put together some items you might need.”
This is so weird.
When Cat nodded, Aurora realized she’d spoken out loud. “Are you new to the supernatural world or Sheoul-gra?”
“Ah, kinda both.”
Cat grinned. “Well, if it helps, people here are pretty cool. There are some douchewads, and some of the statues bite if you get too close, but for the most part, Sheoul-gra doesn’t suck. Who are you here with?”
“Hawkyn,” she said. “But I’m not with him. I mean, he brought me here, but we aren’t together. Not like that...” Ugh. She was babbling like a lunatic. Time to move on, the way she did after she’d massaged all the tension out of one part of a customer’s body. She’d certainly massaged this subject to death. “So, are you one of his sisters?”
“Nah.” Cat tucked her clipboard under one arm. “I’m a fallen angel. I live in the Inner Sanctum with my mate.”