by Anne Marsh
Fresh meat.
He was tempted himself to kill them both. He might have time.
But Cuthah was waiting for him in the Heavens. Not to mention Cuthah’s threats. And his promises. Eilor wanted that redemption and he definitely wanted to keep his wings. So that meant he had to behave himself for the moment and keep the deal he’d made with Cuthah. Kill one. Save one.
He flexed those wings in the small space of the SUV, the dark tattoo rippling on his back. Transforming now would still be a mistake. He had to wait.
Dropping his prey onto the front seat, Eilor punched open the locks she hadn’t been able to reach, savoring the sweet heat of the female pinned in the driver’s seat. The metallic click spelled victory.
Did the Goblins know that he’d got their females?
Jerking open his door, he strode around the car and freed the other passenger door. The brown-haired female spilled out onto the ground. He let her fall, because even though she didn’t notice her landing, he did. He liked the way the gravel bit into that tender flesh, the cruel indentations going white then red as her blood rushed to fill the lacerations.
Humans were so delightfully fragile.
He got to work then with the nylon cords he’d brought with him, tying her wrists and feet together. When he was done, she was limp and warm, breathing shallowly. The shadow of a purple bruise crept over her temple. He smoothed her hair over the mark, wondering whether he regretted hitting her, but really, she’d left him with no choice. She wouldn’t have come with him, had run from him for months. She belonged now to one of the Fallen. He could smell the male all over her and—he shoved up the thin cotton of her sleeves—she’d been marked by the male as well. Too bad for her.
He’d kill her, he decided, because he had to kill one of them now. But not yet.
Dumping her onto the backseat, he went for his other prize, easing her out from behind the steering wheel. Moving swiftly now, because he was exposed, standing here on the empty road, he reached for more cord. Eventually, the Fallen would know they’d been tricked and they’d backtrack. Of course, he’d be gone by then. Back in the Heavens where he belonged.
And they weren’t ever going to get back into the Heavens, were they?
Cradling the black-haired female in his arms, he made short work of her wrists and ankles. He put her back in the passenger’s seat, fastening the seat belt over her. She wouldn’t get away from him now.
He slid into the driver’s seat and put the car into gear. They were both his, and as soon as he’d summoned Cuthah, so were the Heavens.
The dull stab of pain cutting across Mischka’s forehead was worse than any Monday-morning alarm clock. The bastard’s pinch hold had done a number on her.
A quick test of the cords only proved that his knot-tying skills far exceeded hers. She wasn’t going anywhere fast, but the SUV was. The road hummed beneath the tires, and with each passing second, she felt the bond fade further. Brends had decided to keep her safe by cutting her off, but instead he’d cut off the one lifeline she had. Ironic that she’d spent days fighting to get him to acknowledge that she was human, denying that she had any sort of paranormal blood in her—but now, she’d have embraced that unholy side of her DNA if it bought her an advantage.
Yeah, maybe she should have made it clearer to Brends that she didn’t blame him anymore for his ancestors. Because clearly, actions made the man—and the evil incarnate sitting beside her, humming a slightly off-key rendition of “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” was clearly the paranormal she should have been worried about.
Without opening her eyes, she slid her fingers over the knots, looking for a loose end. A way out.
“You can’t undo them.” Eilor didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he clearly knew that she was awake. Okay. She didn’t want to know how he knew that, but she opened her eyes, wincing against the muted afternoon sunlight that streamed through the windshield. They were headed westward, the dark shadow of the wall sliding by the passenger-side window. “And you should know, bébé, that I only need one of you. Give me any trouble and I’ll slit your throat.”
That was convincing.
Giving up seemed wrong, so she pulled at the knots one more time, but yeah, those cords weren’t budging. Eilor had made a smooth mass of twists and turns that would have defeated a Boy Scout.
That ruled out a dramatic escape, but leaving Pell here was out of the question anyhow. So what were her options? A half twist of her head made her headache come back with a vengeance and revealed Pell trussed in the backseat. The shallow in and out of her breathing was reassuring, but it also meant Mischka could rule out a rescue from that quarter.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, because the only weapon she had left was words. “You lured us out here and sprang a leak in this wall of theirs to distract us.”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged those massive shoulders. “Not too glamorous, bébé, but effective.”
“Why?” Her mind raced. She was stuck here in the SUV, but maybe she could still contact Brends. She wasn’t going to have much time, however. The bond was slipping away from her, fading with every ink mark around her wrists.
“I thought you had it all figured out.” He took the SUV off-road with a hard twist of his wrists, rolling to a crunching halt right before doing a fender-plant in the Preserve wall. “End of the line, bébé. There’s someone who’d like to meet you.”
“You’re a rogue,” she said. “I know that.”
“Sticks and stones.” He eyed her coldly. “You call me rogue. I call me smart.”
He got out before she could think up a response and strode around the car. When he pulled Pell out and dumped her on the ground, Mischka winced. And hoped. Was that a flicker of eyelids? Could Pell be coming around? She didn’t know what good it would do, but maybe Pell could reach Dathan. They were still bonded, after all. She, on the other hand, wanted to curl up and cry because Brends had walked away from her, hadn’t spared her so much as a backward glance, but that was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
“Weak,” she argued, because he was coming back for her now. Way to go Mischka, she chided herself. Let’s rile up the homicidal maniac. Why not? He already had all the advantages.
“No.” He reached for her door handle and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He smelled wrong. As if he were already dead and rotting from the inside out. “In just a few minutes, I’ll be back in the Heavens where I belong. You’re the ticket and I’m cashing in.”
Brends’s wings had reappeared when they’d made love. God, she hoped Eilor didn’t think she was his ticket to wings. You can survive rape, she reminded herself. It’s his knife you’ve got to watch out for. “You think I can give you wings?”
“No.” Disgust twisted his features briefly. “Nothing like that, bébé. As soon as I decided that there was no point in holding out against this damned thirst for souls, as soon as I drank my first soul dry, there was a price on my head. Those Goblins of yours would have sent me to the Preserves decades ago, but I found a different employer instead.”
“One who didn’t mind a little murder and mayhem.”
His smile was slow and chilling. “One who insisted on it, bébé. You humans are such babes in the wood when it comes to your politics. The Heavens are where the real power is. There’s a faction of angels who”—he shrugged—“let’s just say, aren’t interested in maintaining the status quo long term. They’d like to see a little shake-up occur and they recognized my skills.”
“You killed those other women!”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look bothered by the accusation. No, he looked delighted. Done chatting her up, he hauled her out of the SUV and dumped her on the ground next to Pell. Sexist bastard. Unfortunately, his move put her on eye level with the blade he wore at his waist.
He hadn’t bothered cleaning it after his last victim.
“I’ll give my boss a little call now, bébé. He’s been waiting to meet you.”
His body
radiated confidence as he strode over to the shimmering wall of the Preserves, wiping away a top layer of dust. Who knew evil incarnate needed a clean slate? One hand traced a symbol across the wall’s surface.
“No telepathy?” As if she knew how you summoned your evil overlord.
“Shut up.” Aiming a kick in her direction, he went back to drawing sigils on the rock face of the wall.
Please, God, let Brends find us. Quickly. She felt only a crawling sense of awareness as she looked at the signs Eilor was scrawling across the glowing surface of the Preserve wall. “No cell phone?”
The surface flickered, faded. Hell, that couldn’t be good, could it? Shield was down, that much was clear. Worse, she suspected that Eilor was close to finishing his “E.T. phone home” act, because something clicked and hummed darkly, and then the shield simply went out and she was staring at a stone arch.
The doorway was still closed, but she could feel the power radiating off it. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that her hair was standing on end, or that if she’d touched the rock where Eilor had traced his sigils, the air would sizzle. His signs had just sent a hell of a current through the rock.
“Welcome,” Eilor said with a sarcastic bow, “to the end of the road, bébé.”
It looked like an ancient tomb straight from a Bible story and cut straight into the living rock of the soaring cliffside. The original builders had sealed the space off with a heavy sliding door made of stone, which slipped sideways along a narrow groove. She didn’t know whether they’d wanted to keep something out—or something in.
Either way, Mischka knew she wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
When Eilor finished drawing his sigil, there was a moment of ominous silence, and then the seams glowed Day-Glo blue and slipped gently apart. Almost anticlimactic, she decided—until the dark, still air that had been waiting thousands of years for an exit swirled around her legs.
At first, the figure emerging from the midnight black tunnel was no more than a whisper of sound and light, like nails grating on chalk but much, much worse. Mischka had never met anything like that and never wanted to. The fiery pillar of light hurt to look at directly, forcing her to avert her gaze or risk being blinded. Still, there was no missing Eilor’s fierce look. Or the hunger and desire painted across his face. Not to mention the faintest hint of fear. That hint of fear was the worst: anything that scared Eilor had to be more evil than she wanted to contemplate.
“I’ve brought you both females,” Eilor growled. His knife hand twitched and she couldn’t take her eyes from it. She might be able to throw herself over Pell. She might be able to hook an ankle around Eilor’s knees. Maybe. But she’d only get one chance.
“Did I not tell you to kill one and to bring one?” The pillar halted its advance, a form coalescing and pulling a male body from the fiery molecules.
“Yes.” Eilor’s eyes never left the fire angel. Because it was an angel standing there. Mischka could see the wings now, the tips brushing against the top of the passageway. “You did.” For the first time, he sounded almost unsure. “But they are both evil. They both have lain with the Fallen.”
Lovely. Not only was Eilor working for the bad guys, but he was on a moral vendetta as well. The fire angel took another step toward the threshold. Mischka wasn’t sure what would happen if—when—the fire angel stepped over that line. She was going to pull Pell backward, she decided. That was about the only plan open to her.
“Kill one,” the fire angel repeated. “And bring one to me alive. Very simple instructions, Eilor. I believe I was quite clear. You do not get to keep those wings of yours, my Eilor,” Fire Angel continued in a cold, hard voice, “until you’ve finished the work I gave you.”
Eilor started to protest, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.
“Are you faithful to me, my Eilor?” Fire Angel pressed his point.
“I am,” Eilor muttered.
“Not particularly willingly,” the other said, and that cool, amused voice made goose bumps rise on Mischka’s skin. Eilor’s new companion didn’t care that Eilor was less than pleased. Didn’t care at all and wasn’t worried.
Hell, what kind of power did he have?
That fire-lit face turned toward her. “Bring me that one. Kill the other. Now.”
Eilor’s nonchalant shrug accompanied the blade’s coming free. Rising. Beginning its wicked downward arc.
Now, now, now, her mind screamed, and she lunged, locking her fingers around Pell’s ankles. She pulled her cousin’s body out from under the blade just in time. Finally Pell’s eyes blinked open. Mischka could see the scream forming.
Eilor growled, a low, bestial sound that left her in no doubt. She’d pissed off the beast.
A sharp pain exploded in her ribs as his kick met her body. Suddenly she was fighting for every breath. God, that hurt. Had he cracked a rib?
Behind her, tires crunched on gravel and a door slammed.
The fire angel stepped back into the shadows, raising an arm. The arm glowed and living skin reshaped, forming a lethal blade that glowed with heat.
Twenty-Three
Brends hit the ground running, palming his weapons before he’d cleared the SUV. Mischka Baran wasn’t dead, not yet, and he was determined to keep it that way. As their bond had faded and the threads binding his soul to hers snapped one by one, her emotions had overwhelmed him. Fear. Rage. A primitive instinct to protect. And regret. He was going to kill the male who’d made his soul mate feel all that.
He sprinted toward what had once been the well-shielded wall of the Preserves. Now there was a bloody hole in the shield, and it didn’t lead inside the Preserves at all. No, it led up. Straight to the Heavens. Eilor had called a doorway between the realms and was about to cross over. If he got both feet over the threshold—and if he managed to take either or both of his captives with him—it was over. The return of Brends’s wings might mean he’d received a full pardon or the return might mean absolutely nothing, but stepping over that line would be a pretty damn fatal way to find out.
If he wasn’t redeemed, he’d be dead.
And Mischka would be lost.
So yeah, he wasn’t chancing it unless the bastard made it through. And the chances of that were looking higher and higher.
Brends spotted a flicker of hot, bright light as something—no, someone—withdrew up the passageway. Fine. He’d deal with the company later, because Eilor clearly didn’t work alone, and he was willing to bet that their unseen watcher was also the mastermind.
Eilor turned and Brends got his first good look at the massive body and raw power the rogue was just waiting to unleash. Eilor’s face was a feral mask.
“Why, Brends,” he hissed. “How nice of you to join us. We were just about to take a little trip.”
“To the Heavens?” Someone in the Heavens was on Eilor’s side. Really, really on Eilor’s side. Brends considered his options.
“Why, yes. That was precisely where we were headed. Too bad you cannot join us.”
The rogue’s booted foot deliberately pressed down on Mischka’s chest. She clawed at his ankle, but the bastard had tied her hands. The shallow rise and fall of her chest bought Brends some breathing room of his own. Yeah, she and her cousin were hanging in there, but his instincts roared for him to get them out of there. Now.
“What do you want?”
“From you?” Eilor’s taunting smile mocked him. “Nothing, now. I’ve got what I came for, thanks to you. You thought you’d use them as bait, but now the fish has the worm and all you have is the story about the one that got away.” He ran one hand over the smooth skin of Mischka’s face with mock concern. “And I appreciate your help, Brends Duranov. Most considerate of you. Unfortunately, I only require one female today. Alive, that is.” His face was a travesty of regret. “That forces me to choose, you see. Which one to keep and which one to kill?”
Options. There weren’t any that Brends could see. He had to get thei
r mates away from the rogue. Dathan and the other Fallen were two minutes behind him, but those two minutes were two minutes too long. The bastard was too close. One blow and the rogue finished them. Pell’s face was too pale. How hard had the bastard hit her? Finding the SUV empty was a nightmare he couldn’t shake.
“Any suggestions for me, warrior? Do you want to choose? Your brother’s mate—or yours.”
The rogue wasn’t offering to let either woman live. Brends knew that. No, what Eilor proposed was merely a stay of execution—and undoubtedly a living sentence of hell. Brends knew Mischka’s choice without asking. Yeah, she would trade her life in a heartbeat for her cousin’s. So that just made Brends’s choices more complicated. No way was he telling Mischka that he’d left her cousin to die.
So how the hell did he get his hands on their mates? Or force the rogue to step away from them?
“I don’t have all day,” the rogue drawled. “Really, Brends, I have a schedule to keep to, and it’s been a terribly busy day for me so far. Choose or I’ll choose for you.” Lifting Mischka’s hair, he inhaled the scent. “She’s really far too pretty to die, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you like to rescue her from me?”
Neither blades nor guns would be fast enough to take Eilor’s head right now, so he had to get Eilor to put down his burdens and fight.
“Brends,” Eilor purred. “Always charging to the rescue. Never stopping to think.” Eilor shook his head mockingly. “That white-knight mentality is going to get you killed.”
Brends had accepted the risks long ago. Unfortunately, Eilor’s owner had set the angel up with some serious mojo. Not only did the bastard have a pair of wings that had to stretch ten feet from tip to tip, but he was seriously ripped.
“You like this form?” Eilor indicated his body with a taunting gesture. “Because I can do other ones. Better ones.” He paused. “More powerful ones.”