Inflamed

by ML Guida

  “No one ever does,” he grumbled.

  Lethal hurried toward the back of the library where there was a fountain. Heaven water was pure and refreshing. Goblets were lined up on a shelf. He went to take one.

  Gabriel grabbed his arm. “We need to talk.”

  “Let go of me.” Lethal lowered his voice. “How did you find out I was an assassin? No one’s supposed to know our identity.”

  “True, but Saint Peter does.”

  Lethal’s eyes widened. “He told you?” Michael must have been pissed.

  “Yes. He gave me a special arrow that would release your mating drive. Cupid thought it was an desire arrow. All she had to do was shoot you with it.”

  Lethal frowned. “How d’you know I’d be there? Any Dark Angel could have been there. Or that she would pick the right arrow?”

  “I can’t tell you all my secrets, dear boy. You must trust faith. Angel-mates cannot be denied. One will start to fade without the other.”

  Fear slid down Lethal’s spine. He glanced over his shoulder. Cupid lay perfectly still on the couch. “She’s—”

  “Not her. Cupid is too full of love and goodness. No, my dear boy, it’s you. You’re not as fast as you used to be. If you were, Cupid’s arrow never would have hit you.”

  Was the archangel telling him anything new? His reflexes had been less responsive, no matter how much he worked out. But he wouldn’t admit it. If he did, Michael would take him off the team. He shook his head. “That was pure luck.”

  “Is it? Your fading allowed Balthazar to track you to the bridge. You’re an assassin. He never should have been able to find you.”

  “He must have been waiting for Betty Ann, because—”

  Gabriel put a goblet underneath the flowing fountain then handed it to Lethal. “Her name was never written in the Book of the Dead.”

  Lethal clasped the goblet tight. “Then why was I bloody sent there?”

  Gabriel didn’t answer.

  “Shit, it was a setup.” He frowned. “But Michael gave me the order himself.” Dread smacked him in the heart. “He knows I’m fading?”

  “He only knows the order to send you came from Saint Peter, even though Betty Ann’s name wasn’t written in the Book of the Dead, but he suspects. Only your angel-mate can restore you to your full strength.”

  “If I do, Balthazar will track her. I can’t lose her like I did Vixen.”

  “He’s already hunting you. Don’t you think he knows you’ve lost your edge? Without Cupid’s love, you’ll never defeat him.”

  The walls closed, and the room grew hotter. Lethal’s hand shook spilling the water on the floor. He wiped his arm across his slick forehead. “Wait, a minute. There is a way to keep her safe. She can never leave heaven.”

  Gabriel gently took the goblet from Lethal. “She’d never agree to that. She loves what she does.”

  Lethal ran both his trembling hands through his hair. “I don’t care if she does. On Earth, Balthazar can hunt her.” He couldn’t even say the words kill or turn. He couldn’t go through this again. It would be better for him to fade then for Cupid to go dark side.

  Gabriel clutched Lethal’s shoulder. “You can’t make her stop doing what she loves. Any more than she can stop you from what you love to do.”

  Love wouldn’t be the word he used to describe his job. It was something he had to do. Without assassins, rogue angels would corrupt Earth. “You can order her to stay here. Have her do something else? Maybe you can have her hand out the orders to the other Love Angels. She’d still be involved.”

  “I could, but I won’t.”

  Lethal jerked away from him. “Why the hell not?” He pointed down the hall. “You’d rather put her in danger.”

  “I’m not trying to save Cupid. I’m trying to save you. She has powers you’d never understand.”

  Lethal snorted. “She’s never fought a demon in her life.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. She has powers. Unknowingly. That’s another reason why Balthazar wants her so badly.”

  Lethal thought about what happened in the meadow with Balthazar and Joan. Chills whisked down his back. “Does the rogue angel Balthazar wants know about Cupid’s supposed powers?”

  Gabriel refilled the goblet. “Perhaps. You need to hunt for an angel whose first name begins with B. Or was it V?”

  “Do you know how many angels that could be?” Lethal’s mind was spinning. All he could think about was Victoria who now went by Vixen. Spots blurred his vision. His legs wobbled. He grabbed a goblet from the shelf and filled it with water. He downed it in one gulp. Cool refreshment spread through him. Tingles spread through him and doused the panic threatening to turn him into a mess.

  He stared at Gabriel. Pieces fell together one-by-one. “You’re trying to tell me you know something Michael doesn’t know.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Lethal detected a slight tremor in his voice. He’d lied to Michael? Ballsy. “You’d better hope you haven’t kept a secret from him.”

  “Are you threatening me?” As he spoke, the lights dimmed, and Gabriel appeared to grow taller. He flashed out his magnificent pearly wings.

  Lethal lifted his chin. “It’s your funeral. Michael’s the most powerful angel in heaven, and he doesn’t have a sense of humor. Ordering him on a merry chase to find something that doesn’t exist is like jumping into the lion’s den.”

  “I’m not afraid of Michael.”

  A slight drop of sweat rolled down Gabriel’s temple. He clutched the goblet tighter, turning his knuckles white. So, he had lied to his boss. Fool.

  Lethal grinned. “Michael is going to love it that you treated him like a stooge.” His smile faded. “You don’t think this angel exists, do you?”

  He took a sip from the goblet. “Why do think that?”

  “Because you archangels are full of games. Did Joan have it wrong? So, if it’s not an angel, is it a demon? Was she talking about Vixen?”

  Hope swelled inside Lethal. Maybe Vixen wanted to repent.

  Gabriel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I know what you’re thinking and that road is closed, boy.”

  Lethal glared. “Why?”

  “You’re looking at this all wrong. If the obvious isn’t possible, then you need to look at the impossible.”

  Lethal gritted his teeth. “Why do you archangels always speak in riddles?”

  Gabriel grinned. “It keeps us from getting bored.”

  “Until I find out what’s going on, will you order Cupid to stay in heaven?”

  “No.”

  Not caring if he got thrown into a heaven’s cell, Lethal went nose-to-nose with the archangel. “I’ll go to Saint Peter myself, and he’ll order you to keep Cupid under wraps. And tell me the answer to your idiotic riddle.”

  A knowing smile spread across Gabriel’s lips, and his silver eyes twinkled. “Go ahead, dear boy, but you’re wasting your time.”

  Lethal didn’t care. He’d move heaven and Earth to keep Cupid safe.

  Chapter 3

  Lethal hid in the alley, waiting for the damn jazz club to close. He wrinkled his nose at the stench. Heaven’s Saints, he swore he smelled piss. He’d bet urine and filth were sticking to his Oxford shoes. Why would the traitor Hans pick such a disgusting place? Trash overflowed from a rusty bin. Broken glass was scattered on the pavement, and he’d lost count of the number of cigarette butts strewn around.

  The longer he stood there waiting for the arrogant S.O.B. to come out, the better chance Cupid had to escape heaven and work her job. Balthazar would have no problem tracking her down. How had he gotten such a stubborn angel-mate? She wasn’t his yet, but as much as he didn’t want to admit it, St. Peter’s arrow had released something in him. He couldn’t take his mind off her. No woman—angel or demon—had ever distracted him like that curvy temptation.

  But instead of unraveling Gabriel’s riddle, he got stuck on going on another of Michael’s assignments. He’d
made Lethal an offer he couldn’t refuse. Work or be off the team.

  He rubbed the hilt of the sword. “Come on, Hans. Get your ass out here.”

  The lights on the club shut off, and people wandered out: couples, drunks, and one strutting fallen angel.

  Hans flipped up the collar on his leather jacket. He’d cut his hair into a mohawk and pierced his eyebrows with spiked rings. He’d gone from skinny angel nerd to punk rocker wanna-be. He tossed a pair of keys into the air and strolled toward a parked Porsche.

  Lethal shook his head and stepped out of the alley. “Really, Hans? Dying your hair purple? Is that the style they’re wearing in hell these days?”

  Hans jumped back. He looked wildly around the parking lot. “Lethal, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I have my orders.”

  Hans cast his gaze over Lethal. “I’ve always suspected you were an assassin.”

  “Well, aren’t you the smart one.”

  Hans pulled a wicked-looking, skinny dagger out of his leather jacket. It gleamed crimson in the moonlight, as if it had been dipped in blood. “But you don’t think I’m just going to stand here and let you kill me.”

  Lethal sighed and shook his head. “Why do you rebels always want to do it the hard way?” He pushed out his palm and drew on his angelic powers. Tingles swept down his arm, then blue Holy Fire shot out of his hand, lighting up the darkness and crackling toward Hans. It surrounded him like a lasso, pinning his arms against his long, lean body. Hans struggled to get loose, but it was useless. He was a hapless mummy, but he hung on to his weapon.

  Lethal’s hand shook. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. White spots blocked his vision, and he shook his head. He stumbled. The fire sputtered and disappeared.

  Hans laughed. “Losing your touch.” He crouched, clutching the dagger. “Let’s try that again—assassin.”

  Lethal examined his hand. What had happened? He’d never lost his power before. He glared. “Yes, let’s do.” He unleashed Judgment, which glittered like a dazzling sapphire.

  Hans put his hand up to shield his eyes from the sword’s brightness.

  Lethal was done playing games and lunged.

  Hans slashed his dagger and deflected Judgment, actually shoving Lethal away.

  Something was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. Hans should be dead. No way was the little thug demon stronger than him.

  “Wondering how this little dagger can go up against your sword?” Hans held up his weapon, and it grew into a nasty, jagged rapier—a hellish weapon, deadly to any angel. “A little gift from Balthazar.” He tilted his head toward Judgment. “It’s as powerful as your sword.”

  “Balthazar’s insane if he thinks a mere rapier can go against Judgment.”

  Lethal swung his sword again, but the same white dots blurred his target.

  “Die, assassin.” The blackguard stabbed Lethal’s shoulder.

  Blinding pain gripped Lethal, but he shoved it into the back of his mind. He dropped to one knee. Most angels would have been dead with the mortal blow, but he was an assassin. How could he have been so slow?

  Hans raised the rapier to strike another deathly blow, but this time, the spots disappeared. Lethal blocked a slash intended to pierce his heart. Their blades met and slid together, locking for as long as it took for Lethal to stand on his shaking legs. Their weapons separated and slashed again, colliding, clanking, and striking in a series of quick, determined ripostes that drove the two men forward and backward across the length of the dark alleyway.

  He hadn’t expected Hans’ prowess. Balthazar must have been training the whelp. It took all of Lethal’s considerable finesse just to parry each stroke, to keep from being plastered into a wall or tripping over discarded aluminum cans and beer bottles.

  Agony gripped his shoulder, and blood trickled down his arm. Hell venom pumped through him, making his muscles weak. Bitterness stained his lips and burned his throat. A sharp pain swelled in his gut.

  He gritted his teeth. He drew on the power of Michael’s hand, hoping it would slow the poison.

  Like a hell hound scenting fresh blood, Hans aimed for Lethal’s mangled shoulder. He swept his dagger down, his strokes coming fast and clean, forcing Lethal to hold Judgment with both hands to meet Hans’ powerful strikes. Sweat trickled down Lethal’s temples and seeped into his eyes. His hands shook. For every step he edged toward Hans, Hans forced him to take two steps backward. He was forcing him into a corner between the trash bin and the wall.

  Triumph flashed in Hans’ eyes. “Balthazar has given us orders, lover boy.”

  Dread squeezed Lethal’s pounding heart. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “He doesn’t want us to kill your to-be bride. He wants us to bring her to him alive.”

  “Why?”

  Hans shrugged. “I don’t know. But if we do, he’s promised to pump up our powers. Something I intend to collect.” He flashed an evil grin. “Before I present her to Balthazar, maybe I’ll experience her innocent charms.”

  “No! Leave her alone!” Lethal charged, losing control, forgetting everything Michael had taught him not to do.

  He slashed wildly at Hans, but Hans easily dodged his attacks. He slashed Lethal’s thigh.

  Lethal hissed.

  He lunged again, but he could barely lift the sword.

  Hans laughed and swiped the rapier, slicing open Lethal’s shirt. Lethal blocked another attack, but he could barely lift his sword.

  Hans jabbed the point of his rapier into Lethal’s rib cage. Lethal let out a blood-curdling scream. He staggered backward. Blood poured from his side, soaking his three-piece suit.

  Hans pursed him. Lethal stepped on a rotten tomato and slipped. He lost his balance, but Hans didn’t give him a chance to recover. He battered him with an offensive strike that sent him crashing onto one knee, sinking into something wet and slimy.

  Hans jabbed his elbow into Lethal’s shoulder. The pain and poison blinded Lethal, and he dropped his sword.

  Towering over him, Hans raised his rapier, the point angled down on a slant that would slice into Lethal’s spine for the coup de grâce of hacking him in half. “Prepare to die, assassin.”

  The gloat in his voice spurred something deep inside Lethal. He wasn’t done yet. Pushing his anger aside, he closed his eyes and drew on his last remaining power. Warmth filled him, and his heart pounded hard, sending Michael’s power through him. A bolt of adrenaline shot through him.

  Chrakk

  The sound echoed off the walls.

  He opened his eyes. A blue glow circled his body and lit up the dark alley.

  Hans cringed. “Geesus.” His sneering grin had vanished, and for the first time, fear flickered in his eyes.

  “You’ll never have Cupid.” Lethal thrust his palm into Hans’ stomach, tearing into his flesh.

  Hans screamed. He released Lethal and dropped his weapon. It clanked onto the pavement.

  “You b-b-b-astard!” Han’s eyes rolled into back of his head.

  Lethal reached for Judgment and removed his hand from inside Hans’ stomach. Hans stood where he was. Nothing could break the power of Michael.

  Lethal took a shaky breath and forced himself to stand.

  Hans shook his head. Desperation in his eyes. “Please, have mercy.”

  “I have none. You threatened Cupid.” Drawing on his last remaining strength and in one angry sweep, Lethal cut Hans in two.

  Breathing hard, he stared down at the halved angel. No compassion filled him. Only a dull weariness overwhelmed him. He put his shaking hand on the slimy wall. He had to admit that Gabriel was right. He was fading, and only mating with Cupid could return him to full strength. Without his power, he wouldn’t be able to protect her, but if he mated with her, he’d put a bullseye on her back.

  He had to meet with St. Peter. He flashed out his wings. He didn’t care what the man was doing. He wanted his meeting, and he wanted his meeting now. Cupi
d would never leave heaven.

  Chapter 4

  Cupid needed time to clear her head after her confrontation with Gabriel and Lethal. She especially had to get away from Lethal. He was an assassin. But that wasn’t the worst of it, he’d wanted to claim Vixen before she fell. According to Gabriel, she was Lethal’s second choice. Then to top it all off, Lethal was ashamed of her, ashamed she was a lowly angel of love. Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped them off her cheeks. How dare he think what she did was trivial! How could love be less than death?

  He was dangerous, too dangerous for her. She couldn’t lose her heart to him. She didn’t care what the Book of Love said.

  She trotted down the silver path that led to the thick foliage of the Garden of Eden. Like it had been on Earth, animals of all kinds walked in the jungle. Monkeys and birds chattered in the trees. Lions, tigers, and leopards prowled, but unlike on Earth, predators didn’t kill or eat meat. Lions lay with the antelope. Tigers played with lambs. Leopards napped with deer. Flowers of every kind bloomed. She stopped to sniff some jasmine. The scent eased her bunched up muscles.

  She lingered under the shady trees and twirled around. Here, she could walk, dance, and forget her troubles.

  “Cupid, wait.”

  She sighed. So, much for being alone. She pasted on a smile and turned.

  Her sister, Venus, rushed down the path. She panted, and rosiness stained her cheeks. She was the exact opposite of Cupid—striking red hair, an athletic body, and a killer smile. Cupid couldn’t help but admire her; the skinny jeans fit like snake skin. She wouldn’t even be able to squeeze her one calf into them. Cupid always felt like a flopping Godzilla around her. She and Venus had been so close until about a year ago. Her sister had always liked to play tricks on her, but her tricks never hurt anybody and were funny. Now, it was as if Venus had turned into one of the mean girls. Her tricks were mean and vicious.

  She came up alongside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Lying was a sin, but Cupid had learned the hard way to not trust her sister unless she wanted to be the victim of one of her pranks.