Monsters, Book One: The Good, The Bad, The Cursed

by Heather Killough-Walden

  She thanked her lucky stars a second time that she’d put up the strongest warding around her mind earlier that night. It would have been devastating if Jake learned what she was thinking about.

  She knew that when the time came, Dmitri would find her no matter where she was. She knew there was no getting away from this. She’d already made up her mind, and what happened tonight hadn’t changed it. If anything, it had made her all the more determined.

  Angel had done everything she knew how to do against someone and she’d failed against him anyway because she was all too human. Maybe it was time to up the game. Maybe it was time to make a change. Become stronger. She relished the thought of never becoming light-headed or nauseated again. Dmitri could give her that. And at least with him, she would remain who she was. She would have her own mind. Her body would just receive one hell of an enhancement.

  And Dmitri would never kill anyone again.

  It was a twisted medicine for what ailed her and it came with some hellish side effects – namely, having to be with Dmitri himself – but it was effective.

  Angel stood up from the Vega kitchen table as she finished off her soda, and Jake followed suit. She led him down a few halls to a metal door, where he watched as she popped the latch and stepped into the inner-most guest room of the safe house. This was where she’d told Gabe she would be staying for the remainder of the night, her choice.

  Even if it wasn’t a twenty-thousand dollar bed covered in five-thousand dollars’ worth of bedding like the one at the Fairmont, she had to admit that for once it would be nice to surround herself with familiarity. Especially when it felt as intrinsically safe as the Vega clan.

  Angel had been in this room before, and a lot of clan safe houses had rooms just like this one. This particular guest room doubled as a storm shelter – and a bomb shelter. There were no windows, the walls were metal, and the space had been warded against everything known to man. But it had been updated to boast a closet, a desk, a comfortable chair, and of course the bed. Rugs covered the floor for comfort. On the wall opposite the entrance, a door had been cut into the metal, and an adjoining en suite full bathroom had been built.

  A chest against one wall was kept stocked with food, water, and first aid kits. At one point or another, almost every member of a warden clan wound up staying in one of their safe house’s guest rooms. Houses burned down sometimes. Wardens got drunk. And every now and again… apartments were sometimes covered in blood.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The bed was queen sized, big enough for two – if you cuddled closely. Angel sat down on the edge of the bed, and Jake took a seat beside her and bent over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Angel,” he said without looking at her, “I promised I would answer your questions, and I meant it.” He dropped his head and closed his eyes. “But before you say anything, let me ask you something first….” Angel studied him in silence. He seemed highly troubled. His jaw was tense, and he kept his eyes closed when he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

  Angel blinked, confused. “What?”

  He turned his head a little, and green shards of light struck her when he opened his eyes. “When Malek was controlling me… did I hurt you?” His voice was so quiet, his tone so tight. Angel’s chest ached, and her heart began racing.

  “No, Jake. Not once. Please believe me.” She shook her head, her expression adamant. “Why would you think you had?”

  He gave her a wry smile. He was still bent over, head hanging low. “Your walls are all up again,” he said. “They weren’t before. And you didn’t say anything about it. When you were giving your story.” He shut his eyes a moment, then opened them again. “I don’t remember anything of what happened and I thought you’d be filling in the blanks for me too… but you didn’t talk about it at all. So I thought… maybe….”

  Angel was alarmed. “No!” She gently pulled on his shoulder so he would sit up and face her. He did, and Angel took one of his hands in hers. “Jake, I didn’t say anything about what happened with you and David because I didn’t want Gabriel to know. I don’t want to give him any reason to hate you.”

  Jake smiled at that, but he was still visibly a little unsure.

  “Jake I swear to you that you never hurt me,” she told him emphatically. “In fact, we did fight at one point, but none of your blows did any damage. You were infuriating! You were trying to wear me out or knock me off balance or something. On the other hand, I kicked you in the face.” She gave him a guilty look as blood rushed into her cheeks. “Pretty hard, too.”

  Jake stared at her a few silent seconds, and then he laughed, and Angel watched the tension leave his body. “Good,” he told her. “I’m sure I deserved it.”

  “Oh you did.”

  He laughed harder, and she looked away, still pretty embarrassed about that. In fact, the evidence of her attack was still on his forehead. It peeked out every now and then from behind locks of his jet-black hair.

  Angel took a deep breath and asked him, “Jake, what happened? How did Malek get to you? And why? Why not just come for me himself?”

  “Normally the magic of my clan keeps out influence like his,” he admitted softly. “So Malek sent a Terror after me and Dave. The bitch shot us with some sort of bullet that worked a spell on us from the inside. And he didn’t come after you himself because of this.” He reached out and touched the bear claw that dangled just below her breasts. When he did, he brushed against one, and she felt a hard electric spike move through her. She managed to stifle the gasp, but barely.

  Jake’s eyes shot up, catching hers. His lips curled, and his eyes flashed. “Remember I told you it protected the wearer against dark spirits, and that meant unseelie fae.”

  Angel did remember. “Damn,” she whispered. “It was like you somehow knew.”

  Jake looked guilty then. “The truth is, I did. Not that it was Malek himself after you, but I’d been warned a Taal might be interested in you.”

  Angel couldn’t be upset with him. After all, Gabriel had warned her of the same thing. She sighed and nodded. “But what happened after David shot me with that sleeping dart… I guess neither of us will ever know.”

  “Dave shot you?” Jake’s teeth clenched. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Jake, he wasn’t himself. Remember? And it was a sleeping dart. No harm done.”

  Jake took a slow, tight breath and sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “No, we’ll probably never know what happened after the sleeping dart took hold. But probably nothing, in all honesty. Warden sleep darts don’t work very long against healers, as you probably know. A few minutes at most. I’m guessing you passed out just long enough for us to contact Malek and for him to arrive.”

  Angel thought about that. “I did wake up still in the forest – just when Malek was slapping cuffs on me.”

  Jake stiffened next to her. She could feel it on the bed. “Jake, he didn’t hurt me either. I wasn’t lying when I told the sovereigns that. He fucked with my head a little,” she admitted. And that wasn’t fun at all. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. “But I can see why he felt he had to do it. And once I gave him permission to do the Taal Kiss….” Her voice trailed off. She realized that Jake’s eyes had begun to glow. He was staring at the floor again, not really seeing it. His hands were together, one holding the other in a tight fist.

  Maybe this isn’t the best topic of conversation, she thought. “In short, I passed out. And when I woke up, I was in your arms.”

  Jake was still for a long time. When he finally turned back to face her, the glow had gone back out of his eyes, and he was radiating a lot less pent-up frustration. “What did David and I do to you? You said we didn’t hurt you. But Angel, I can’t tell you how much it’s killing me that I have no idea what I might have put you through.”

  Angel sighed and took his hand again. “You did what you do best. I ran and you tracked me down. There was really nothing more to it. You h
ave to believe me.” She gently touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning his face into her hand. “Okay?”

  After a long moment, he finally nodded. “Okay.”

  “You know,” she said slowly, “I could really go for a Hot White Russian.” She let her hand rest on her lap now and smiled a slow, sweet smile because the drink automatically reminded her of… things.

  Jake chuckled. As always, the sound sent rivulets of pleasure coursing through her.

  “I’m assuming Santiago has a bar somewhere in this joint?” he asked, looking around. His eyes scanned over the cold metal walls.

  Angel nodded. “On the other side of the dining room.”

  “Then you stay here and get comfortable, and I’ll be right back with the drinks.” He stood up, but didn’t leave the bed. His eyes continued to scan the metal walls around them. Without looking at her he asked, “Angel… do you like being a warden?”

  The question took her very much by surprise. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been thinking about it of late – since she was planning to accept Dmitri’s offer. But she definitely hadn’t expected Jake to ask it.

  She licked her lips and said, “Like any job, it’s not perfect. There are things I love about it. Those are the things that made me decide to do it and keep doing it. Then there are things I hate about it.”

  Jake looked down at her. “Do you like being a Vega member?”

  Angel’s brow furrowed. She gazed up at him and wondered why he would ask. Finally, she replied, “Yes. Very much so. Vega took me in when I had no one and nothing.” She gestured with her arms as if she could see past the walls. “These people are the only family I know.”

  Jacob lowered his gaze. He fell silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. Then he nodded, as if accepting something, and turned to go. But she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Wait,” she said, coming to her own feet. “On second thought, you still have dried blood on your forehead.”

  Jake stared at her in confusion. “I… what? Blood? Whose?”

  Angel felt a pang of guilt. “Well, actually it’s your blood,” she told him. “Remember, I told you I kicked you in the forehead. It healed, but you still have some of the blood on you.”

  Jake continued to stare at her a long while. Finally he touched his forehead. “Here?”

  “To the left a little.”

  “Here?”

  She nodded, and he rubbed. Then he looked at his fingers. By now, the blood was dry, but he could no doubt see dust of it on his fingertips. Angel watched his pupils dilate a little. He seemed pale suddenly. Unsteady.

  “Why don’t you take a shower while I make the drinks?” she suggested. She watched him, trying her best to wear an innocent expression.

  But Jake looked at her with a raised brow. “And what would I wear when I got out?” he asked. His tone had lowered a little, becoming more intimate.

  “I’ll have your clothes cleaned, and in the meantime, you can borrow something from that closet there.” She gestured to the closet on one side of the room. It had a mixture of clothing for every size. It was an emergency guest room, after all.

  Jake gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can clean the clothes myself with a spell.”

  Angel blinked up at him in surprise. But, of course he can. He had an innate ability to affect inanimate objects. She guessed she could add laundry services to his list of talents.

  “Okay then it’s settled. Go take a shower. You smell like another woman’s perfume.” Angel paused and frowned, turning back. “What’s up with that, anyway?”

  Jake dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if a headache were coming on. “That would be the Terror you’re smelling.” He sighed. “It’s a long story. I’ll see you in ten.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  As Angel moved through the safe house, she found she was alone. The safe house was empty, or at least the main areas were abandoned right now. Given that Gabriel had been called in on a job for the Phantom King, she wasn’t surprised. When the clan leaders were called in personally, it meant the job was a difficult one. So he’d probably taken everyone on duty with him. Everyone but her, of course.

  She was passing by the door to Gabriel’s office when something inside caught her eye. The door was open, and on his desk was a red folder.

  There was nothing particularly suspicious about a red folder; she’d seen plenty in her warden career. They were folders containing confidential information, which either the clan leader or both the leader and the second-in-command, and sometimes the clan messenger, were allowed eyes on. But for some reason, this one drew Angel’s attention.

  Without realizing it, Angel touched the bear claw hanging from her neck, and stepped into the office. She closed the door behind her. Then she made her way to the desk and peered down at the red folder.

  There were a few others on top of it; it stuck out from beneath them at an angle as if someone had accidentally bumped it in a hurry, or it would have been safely tucked in and invisible. Angel reached down and lifted it out. When she did, she saw the letters in black on the front. “C:LO” They stood for Confidential: Leader Only.

  She was going to put it back in the pile and forget about it until she caught the name typed on the label that was taped to the tab.

  Michael Clemens

  Angel froze. A strange numbness crept through her, and her ears began to ring. In her mind’s eye, she saw blood. She heard sirens. She saw coffins being lowered into the ground.

  With shaking fingers, Angel opened the file. A photograph of Michael was pinned to a stack of documents. The picture had been taken from a distance, and Michael hadn’t been aware of it. It was a voyeuristic photograph, probably one taken in a series that were snapped in quick succession. She had a clear view of him in profile as he was preparing to mount his motorcycle.

  He was tall, athletically built, and handsome, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. But as Angel gazed down at the photograph, she felt strange. There was something wrong.

  For fifteen years, she’d been remembering Michael with a certain expression on his face. It was calm, easy-going, peaceful. Benevolent, even.

  The man in this photograph, however, looked hard. Unrelenting. Mean.

  Angel’s stomach began to knot. She had a bad feeling, heavy and sinking. As the ringing in her ears grew louder, she sat in Gabriel’s chair and began to read.

  With each line and every truth she uncovered, Angel fell a little further down.

  By the time she’d finished, her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely hold the file steady enough to read. She stood up from the chair, slipped the file back where she’d gotten it from, and calmly turned away from the desk.

  Well that just cinches it, doesn’t it? It turns out the human was the bad guy all along.

  And I was blind to it.

  And then she broke.

  A roar of pain-filled rage climbed up from some place deep inside and ripped itself from Angel’s throat with a vengeance. She threw back her head and screamed, and only then did she realize that her cheeks were already wet with tears.

  The world turned red – actually red – as she spun back toward the desk and swept her arm violently across it, sending every single file on it flying. They crashed to the ground or against the wall, papers fluttering wildly like injured birds. A second scream of rage let itself loose, coming from some place she couldn’t seem to close off, couldn’t seem to control. Her fury was in charge now, and she was just along for the violent, shocking ride.

  The door to Gabriel’s office crashed in behind her, and vaguely, far too distantly, she felt strong arms pull her against a hard chest. The impact got partly through the haze of anger spinning its thick, white web around her. But it was Jake grabbing her face, forcing her to look at him, and saying her name that finally broke through to the other side.

  “Angel! Look at me!”

  “Fifteen years, Jake,” she said, her voice shak
ing uncontrollably. “He took fifteen years of my life.”

  Fifteen years… a decade and a half, not including the six months she’d spent actually dating Michael, she had absolutely wasted. She’d been ripped apart by guilt and grief at his death, she’d taught herself to mistrust and hate the supernatural for killing him, and she’d hidden herself away and shied from dating and men in general. She’d even stopped riding! And she’d always loved riding!

  She’d lost the best years of her life. Kind of like Cassiana. But without a marriage or kids to show for it. Instead, they were just gone. Poof – Keyser Söze style.

  “See…” she said, her teeth clenched, her hands gripping his arms, “this is what I hate about my job.”

  Jacob was quiet and strong above her where they stood in the center of Gabriel’s office. He held her tight, his beautiful eyes searching her face, and she could feel him trying to get in, coming up against the well-built walls of her mental wards. She knew he didn’t understand what was happening. But she couldn’t care. She felt too lost, too maddened and incensed at the sand Michael Clemens had stolen from her hour glass.

  “What do you hate about your job, Angel?” Jake finally asked calmly. She loved it when he said her name. It was like he was noticing that she was the only female left alive on the planet and he was marking her as his.

  But the thrill of it passed too quickly this time, and Angel sighed an awful, soul-deep sigh that trembled as if she was sitting on a fault line.

  There had been a point of no return, a line drawn somewhere in her head, and in that moment she was effectively pushed over it. She stumbled across that border and gave in to the consequences with something akin to relief – and a whole lot of fire.

  “You really want to know?” she asked, ripping suddenly from his grip and spinning around to pace several feet away. She kept from looking at him. She was putting distance between them. Because he was too potent, too beautiful. His mere presence could very well deny her this storm, and it had been a long time building. She wanted it. She needed it.