Azrael's Light [Demon Runners of Unearth] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Amy J. Hawthorn

  “What about your father? Does he know that you’ve been stepping through the gate and ‘slumming’ with the humans?” Alia acted as if all was well, but Diane was sure Lucifer’s anger would reach nuclear levels if he knew his daughter was traipsing back and forth through the gate alone. Alia, his wife Lilith, and his kingdom were his everything. He guarded them with a ferocity that bordered on manic obsession.

  Concerned, Diane watched as her niece scanned the crowd with those eerie but gorgeous eyes. It was clear that Alia was searching for someone, but her niece had never mentioned if she visited anyone else when she came to Earth. Diane doubted her parents knew what their daughter was up to or even that she was gone.

  Her own questions to Alia about where she went or what she did while on Earth were usually answered vaguely or even outright ignored. Her niece’s typical response was, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  When a tall, platinum-haired male came through the door dressed in torn jeans and a crisp, white button-down, Alia perked up, watched for a moment, and then slumped down. Who was her little niece looking for?

  “Alia, honey, listen to me. I’m serious. I worry when you travel alone. You have to be careful. Even you, my dear, are not invincible.” And yes, her father was one of the most powerful and terrifying immortals to ever exist, but that didn’t make her any safer if she was sneaking off without his knowledge. No, Alia wasn’t hers, but she suspected she was getting a taste of what mortal mothers felt when they sent their babes out into the cold world on their own.

  “Diane, you’re the best, but I promise I’ll be fine. Things may be rough for a little bit, but I promise in the end everything will be okay.” Her niece’s voice hummed with an odd tone, and the light in her eyes took on a brighter glow as she spoke. The bar vibrated with a subtle hum as she leaned closer to Alia. And since the band had paused between songs, she couldn’t blame the vibrations on their powerful speakers.

  “Look, I gotta go, but if you talk to Mom, tell her that I still love her even though she’s wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t have time to explain, but just tell her it’s not happening, ever. She’ll know what you mean.” Her only niece, who looked like she might barely pass for eighteen, not her true age of three hundred and thirty, leaned across the bar and gave her a sweet peck on the cheek. “Oh, and by the way, when Tall, Dark, and Handsome comes your way, be nice to him. In the long run, you’ll love him.” The light in her eyes dimmed back to their normal subtle glow, and a somber expression darkened her beauty.

  Dressed in thick-soled combat boots and a black miniskirt, she appeared to be no more than a lovely college student who was concerned with nothing more than her next date. As half the young men in the club turned their heads to watch, she bounded off as if unaware of their drooling mouths and obvious stares.

  For a moment though, as Diane had looked into the light of her niece’s eyes, it almost looked like she could forecast, but as far as she knew, Alia’s powers were very limited. Surely she couldn’t foresee future events? Could she?

  No.

  Very few demons, or even gods for that matter, were gifted with that power, and because of its rarity it was regarded with a degree of respect that bordered on awe. Luc would preen like a proud peacock and demand she have the respect she was entitled. Wouldn’t he?

  As for any male known as Tall, Dark, and Handsome, she wasn’t the least bit interested. She liked her life fine the way it was and wanted no interference from anyone. That included all males, and whether they were mortal or immortal made no difference.

  At a glance everything seemed fine, but something was wrong with the entire situation. But who knew what was happening on the other side of the gate? She happily left that world behind long ago and never once looked back. It had been her own decision and though her sister hadn’t understood, the choice had been easy for her.

  Yes, she could admit at times that passing her life as a human could be dreadfully boring. It was a sacrifice she’d made long ago. She’d take boring over the never-ending headache of soap opera dramas playing out day after day on the other side of the gate. The constant plotting and scheming by those trying to climb the ranks in Unearth was maddening. She wanted no part of the chaos.

  Mortals, though flawed and seemingly bumbling, at least strived for improvement. No, humanity was by no means perfect, but at least portions of it were constantly working and fighting to learn more and improve upon themselves. Humans were so unlike the spoiled immortals who never worked a day in their lives for anything. When something didn’t go their way immortals often behaved like spoiled toddlers. It would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been for the simple fact that she was related to half of them and had been expected to participate in the childishness. Not happening.

  As she mixed drinks and scanned her crowded club for trouble she pondered over her decision. She admitted she missed her niece and might even be lonely at times, but she never once regretted the decision to leave everyone else behind with their petty games and ridiculous greed.

  Chapter 3

  As the lively crowd parted before him, he saw why the club appealed to Luc’s young daughter. It was obnoxious, dark, and loud. The throbbing atmosphere pulsed with a life of its own. The humans danced as if it was their last night on Earth. It was a shame they didn’t know the truth. They were safe from him tonight. He envied them their freedom and ignorance. They feared very little and had no knowledge of the horrors existing outside of their own small, peaceful realm.

  Ironically, the club known as Hellfire was the polar opposite of Lucifer’s realm.

  Which meant it was nothing like the other side of the gate where Alia belonged. Lucifer’s daughter had, no doubt, been born, bred, and raised on a diet of cold despair and unrelenting bleakness. Life in Hell was not all bonfires and pitch-forked weenie roasts as most humans believed. It was cold, desolate, and filled with nothing but stark misery. This chaotic scene throbbed with energy and unrepentant life.

  Filled with purpose, Azrael scanned the crowd, expecting his task to be simple. He would find Lilith’s brat, return her to her parents, and then head back to his boat. He should be finished by the night’s end. Maybe if he sailed to the Bermuda Triangle, he’d get lost where no one could find him. Then Lilith would have no choice but to leave him alone, and he’d salvage the last of his vacation in solitude.

  He forced himself to ignore the Kors filling the room. Everywhere he looked, the shadowy glyphs marked the foreheads of oblivious humans. Though it was a habit born from millennia of service, it was a challenge he hadn’t expected to encounter. He should have anticipated how difficult it would be to ignore the key to his daily life as he made his way through the crowd.

  Each marking was placed there by the Sisters of Fate, unique to its wearer and visible only to him. About the size of an egg, the swirling design detailed the time and method of each being’s death. Since he was supposed to be on vacation, the Fates had also taken a break and should be leaving humanity alone for a short time. It was unfortunate the humans were unaware of the brief reprieve they’d been given from the gods’ interference.

  Then again, there was no limit to the havoc humans could create if they learned that for a brief time they, too, were immortal.

  After scanning the rowdy and clueless crowd, he saw no sign of the little one. Frustration ate at him. He’d have to actually speak with the human owner of the club. Thinking about it made his upper lip curl. Wasting time pretending to be human would only slow his progress, but he had no choice.

  Lilith said that the girl frequently visited this particular club, but she wouldn’t tell him why she allowed her daughter to leave Unearth in the first place. Nor would she tell him why the girl had basically run away from home. Truthfully, the reasons were of no consequence to him. He would bring her home if he had to drag her kicking and screaming like a spoiled toddler.

  He tapped his fingers on the bar, waiting while a shapely bartender filled an order at the bar opposite him. The lit
tle human filled out her brown leather pants with some seriously sexy curves. He raised an eyebrow in appreciation as her backside discreetly swayed in time to the music.

  When she turned around to face him, he was smacked in the face with an odd sense of familiarity. She stopped dead in her tracks and dropped the bottle of alcohol she’d been carrying. Standing frozen in place as a barely dressed waitress tried to get her attention, she stunned him. The scent of spilt vodka filled the air, and the pounding music paused.

  “Boss? Are you okay? Hey? That piece of tall, dark, and handsome over there wants to speak with you.” The waitress tapped her on the shoulder and then walked off shaking her head. The brunette blinked the most stunning green eyes he’d ever seen and seemed to gather her wits as she waved the waitress off.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman struck stupid by his presence. Yet, for a split second, he could have sworn he’d seen a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. But that was impossible. As a mere human, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea that Death even existed, let alone stood impatiently in her club.

  She was the most intriguing woman he’d seen in centuries, if not longer. She seemed so very familiar, yet he doubted he would have forgotten a face as striking as hers. It was almost heart shaped with a little pointed chin and a bow-shaped mouth. Chocolate hair, darker than Abaddon’s murky abyss, framed her face and swung down past her shoulders. The tails of a miniscule white blouse were tied tightly just beneath her breasts, drawing his gaze to an enticing display of cleavage. A spark of green light drew his sight lower. A small emerald dangled from her belly button, calling him to press his mouth to the skin just above her low-riding pants.

  Yet one alarming detail instantly dried his salivating mouth. Her Kor, the Fates’ signature glyph that should be visible on her forehead, was missing. She looked human, and smelled deliciously human, yet the hallowed symbol he spent his entire life recognizing and adhering to was missing. It made no sense.

  He spent his entire existence a slave to that symbol, and to find it simply…not there…on a human baffled him beyond belief.

  Had her fate not yet been determined, even at this late a time in her life? The thought of one day having to steal the breath from this lovely creature’s body made his chest tighten with an oddly uncomfortable feeling. He stomped the alien feelings into submission so he could get to work. He’d never been one to let a pretty face distract him. His vacation waited.

  * * * *

  Oh damn, this was bad. What was Azrael, a Runner, doing in her club? If he thought he was going take hers or any of her patrons’ lives with him, he was going to be seriously disappointed. The club may only be a microscopic pinpoint in the universe, but it was hers alone. She dared anyone to cause trouble in her home.

  It was a rare occurrence for any of the few remaining Runners to be seen in their physical form here on Earth. Appointed by the elder gods, Runners worked similar to the humans’ police forces. Each title came with its own duties.

  As a Soul Runner, it was Azrael’s duty to escort souls of the dead to their final resting place, making his visible presence even more disturbing. Yes, he spent much of his time on Earth, but he never had time to frequent human establishments. Everyone knew that as the world’s population grew, so had the time it required for him to do his job. He was in constant travel between Heaven, the different levels of Hell, Purgatory, and many of the other religions’ domains. His presence here in her club was more than likely not a social call.

  He stood there looking every bit the part of an avenging angel. Six and a half feet tall with unbelievably broad shoulders and a curtain of raven-dark hair that fell to his waist. The red-tipped ends flirted with his trim waist and thick, muscular thighs. Dressed in black leather pants, shit-kicker boots, and leather trench coat, he looked like the very definition of decadence.

  The only feature more arresting than his jaw-dropping physique was his face. A sharply sloped jawline, pale, arching cheekbones, and the most delicious set of lips she’d ever seen acted like a siren’s song with their dangerous lure. With their subtle glow, his striking eyes reminded her of the finest burgundy wine.

  His stiff, no-nonsense posture barked “stay out of my way or you’ll be flattened.” She forced herself to pretend ignorance of who and what he was and face him head-on. She reminded herself he was in her territory now.

  “What’s your pleasure? Beer? Whiskey? You name it, I have it.” She could see the lights of his eyes wavering between her mouth and her breasts. It figured. Whether she was on Earth or in Unearth, all males had the same thing on their minds.

  “No. I’m here looking for a girl.”

  She couldn’t help but arch one eyebrow at his statement and pointedly look at the myriad of half-naked women filling the club.

  “Ha-ha. No, I’m looking for a runaway rumored to frequent here. She looks about eighteen, is about five and a half feet tall, has black and purple hair, and facial piercings. Have you seen her?”

  Shocked, angry rage boiled in her veins as realization dawned. The bastard was searching for her niece. There was no doubt in her mind at all. What did he want with her? He couldn’t be here for her soul, could he? How did she find out the reason why without letting him know who she was? She’d help him find Alia over her dead body.

  “We have a very strict policy forbidding entry of minors into the club. ID’s are ruthlessly checked and re-checked. If she’s a minor, you won’t find her here. Is she yours? Do you have a picture?” There were no pictures of Lucifer’s daughter. Luc would have a fit of epic proportions. He may be a fierce bastard on even the best of days, but he was still a loving and doting father. Alia was a daddy’s girl through and through. Love for his only daughter knew no limits.

  Her sister Lilith may be selfish and borderline crazy, but she’d go into a full-blown psychotic rage if she knew there was a threat to her daughter. Her wrath could eclipse even Luc’s.

  “No, no I don’t have a picture. I’m helping a frie—” He gagged. “A friend look for her daughter. Are you sure you haven’t seen anyone who fits the description?” She restrained a victorious fist-pump when he’d choked on the word “friend.” Maybe her sister was hard at work troublemaking again? Probably. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been suckered into cleaning up one of her messes.

  The only other possible option would mean Alia was marked for death. Until she knew what was happening, there was no way she was pointing Azrael in Alia’s direction. It was time to send him on his way, and out of her club.

  “I already said I don’t cater to minors, ever. I have other customers waiting. Do you want a drink or not?”

  “She’s actually much older than she looks and is not as innocent as she appears. My friend is really worried about her.”

  She pointedly looked at the exit doors of the club and not so politely repeated herself. “Do you want a drink or not?”

  He gave her a silent glare capable of making full-grown battle-demons shake in their hooves. Even if he wasn’t fooled by her refusal to cooperate, she refused to back down. He wasn’t going anywhere near Alia until she knew what was going on.

  His soft-looking lips firmed into a hard line. His arched brows flattened, and if possible, he stood even straighter as he glared down. That was just too bad for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. This was her territory and she planned to keep it that way.

  Oh, hell no! What was it Alia had said about a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Be nice to him, she would love him? Either her niece was mistaken or she’d gone crazy. There was no way she’d fall in love with a Runner, let alone the Soul Runner!

  Alia’s weak powers must have shorted out.

  She only spared herself a few seconds of her all-too-rare feminine appreciation as he left. His long-legged stride took him across the large club in no time. It was a damn shame that Death came bottled in such a fine package.

  But between her niece’s cryptic remarks and the presence of Azrael in her club, it
was obvious trouble brewed in Hell once again. She wanted no part in it, but a miserable sense of foreboding churned in her belly.

  It didn’t surprise her to find Lilith right in the middle of it. She was probably stirring the very pot that it brewed in. But Alia? She never caused any trouble. What could she have done?

  “Damn it, girl what have you gotten us into now?”

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, man, what’s up? I thought you were on vacation. Did those tricky bitches yank this break from you, too?”

  “No, I thought I’d stop by and give you up a heads-up. I’m trying to get the situation resolved as soon as possible, but if I can’t, there’s a real possibility that things could get nasty quick. Luc and Lilith’s daughter is missing, and lucky me, I have to help find the brat.” He didn’t mention the fact that he needed to distance himself from one intriguing and sexy brunette who wielded her defensive attitude like a sharpened sword. He was certain she knew something.

  Even thousands of miles away from her in the wilds of Alaska, the sight of her green eyes and her subtle, seductive scent taunted him. He’d used his powers to jump to the home of one of the few beings he could trust. Allies were hard to come by these days and it paid to keep each other informed.

  “Don’t let him hear you call her that, for fuck’s sake. Friend or not, for the smallest insult, even an imagined one, he’s been known to skin immortals alive and feed their strips of skin to the chasm beasts.” The chasm beasts had been deemed rabid and untamable. They were forced into a deep pit because even Luc’s staunchest generals feared them.

  Azrael leaned back against the couch and put his boots up on the coffee table. A fierce blizzard waged war against the cabin outside, but his friend’s craftsmanship held strong. It didn’t hurt that Cyril was half Celtic wood god. He could conjure his staff or a wicked blade out of wood if he chose. But thanks to the other half of his lineage and those big-ass Viking hands of his, he rarely needed little else to get the job done.