I, Angel

by JC Andrijeski

  When she stopped firing, he poked his head above the altar.

  She had to be out of bullets soon.

  As soon as he had line of sight on where she was, Dags opened up the angel fire, slamming bolts of the blue-green at her hiding place behind the stone.

  The impact was loud, like a shotgun report.

  Chunks of white stone got slivered off the larger altar, even as the floor vibrated under Dags’ feet and knees. Some of the stone erupted as powder from the angel-fire, landing on the floor with the larger pieces of stone. But he didn’t hit her that time. He didn’t even do enough damage to the altar to get a better look at her.

  Frowning, he slid back behind the altar when he heard her slam a new magazine into the semi-automatic gun. She didn’t wait, but opened fire on him again.

  Crouching there, he fought to think.

  He wasn’t going to be able to drop her like this.

  He doubted his usual exorcism trick would work on her, either.

  He was still thinking, leaning against the stone, when movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn.

  He saw Phoenix poke her head around the tunnel corner.

  Scowling, he motioned at her sharply to go, to leave, to get the hell out of there.

  She only frowned back at him, shaking her head.

  Dags felt the heat of angel fire surge up from his chest. Veronica didn’t seem to have seen Phoenix yet, but once she did, she’d be firing at her, too.

  He leaned out from behind his smaller altar in the hopes he might draw Veronica’s eyes to him, and further away from Phoenix.

  He shot more of the lightning at her and she ducked down, cursing at him.

  It was what he’d wanted.

  Still, that wasn’t going to help him for long. Even running wouldn’t help. She wasn’t really hunting him; she was hunting Asia, and Karver, Phoenix herself, not to mention everyone Phoenix was remotely close to or cared about⏤

  Open it, a familiar voice whispered. Open your power. Open it all the way this time. Open hers, too.

  Phoenix’s voice caressed some part of his mind.

  It was her voice, but not.

  It was shockingly, paralyzingly familiar.

  Open it, Dags. I’m here, even if I don’t know it. Blow this bitch back to hell.

  Dags closed his eyes, his jaw hard.

  But he’d spent the last ten years listening to the little voices in his head.

  It was too late to stop now.

  He didn’t even have to try very hard.

  He opened. Even more than usual, it felt more like an exhale.

  Even more than usual, it felt like relief.

  So much relief lived there, in that letting go.

  He’d forgotten those early days, when he woke up naked in fields, blue-green light crackling around his body, feeling like somebody lit his skin on fire. It took months… months… before he could be anywhere near other people. It took him months more to learn how to use it without hurting people, without starting fires, without breaking windows, without burning lines through homes, accidentally blowing up cars, once turning someone’s swimming pool to a massive cloud of steam, or that horrible time he accidentally killed a neighbor’s cat.

  It took him months.

  Years.

  It was years before he could use it confidently, without freaking out about accidentally killing someone, or knocking planes out of the sky.

  Or just finding himself naked on top of the Capitol Records building, his wings on full display for tourists as they walked by underneath.

  With all that effort expended, all that practice, he’d eventually made it habit.

  That had been his goal.

  He wanted holding all of that in to be as natural as breathing.

  So he learned to walk around like a man constantly holding his breath.

  He hadn’t exhaled that breath… well.

  Ever, really.

  Not entirely.

  Not on purpose.

  Even when he first woke up in that desert, he’d been trying to control it, to hold it back. He’d been terrified out of his mind, his skin bright red from the blue-green flames writhing under his skin, his back hurting from the wings exploding out of his back… retracting… then exploding out again.

  It happened again. And again.

  And again.

  It took everything in him to learn to control that.

  It took more willpower, more effort, more will, than he’d ever known he possessed.

  Now, to let all of that go⏤to deliberately unleash what he’d spent the last ten years training himself not to release⏤even the thought of it terrified him.

  But a part of him also really, really wanted to.

  A part of him wanted to so badly, the thought of it brought a half-groan to his lips.

  He didn’t give himself time to talk himself out of it.

  He could hear her footsteps on the white tile now.

  She would kill Asia.

  If he let her, she would kill Karver, maybe even Phoenix.

  He wasn’t going to let her.

  He exhaled it out… all the way out…

  For the first time in ten years, he finally let it all go.

  Chapter 33

  I, Angel

  Blue-white flame exploded out of his chest.

  Not just from his chest.

  Not just from his hands.

  Not just from his fingertips, his arms, or even his eyes.

  It was like Dags sucked in every particle of energy out of the room, drawing the molecules of charge into him, invisible atoms of light and charged fire. He didn’t just suck it in through his nose and mouth. Every surface of his body pulled it in, condensing that heat somewhere in the middle of his chest and gut.

  He felt Phoenix in that. In a way he couldn’t comprehend, that made no sense to his logical mind, he felt himself draw her into himself, too.

  For a moment of no-time, it all pulled inside of him…

  …only to blow violently outward.

  A blue white wave of pure energy left every atom of his skin.

  A dense rumble crackled just after the wave, like it broke the sound barrier.

  It sounded like thunder.

  The thunder echoed across the tile walls and floor, shaking the ground.

  Dags felt it burn through every particle of that reddish light, even as Veronica screamed. She screamed so desperately, it was almost as if she was using the sound to try and push away that blue-white flame.

  He turned his head, feeling like he moved in slow-motion, even though the light was still leaving his skin in rippling waves.

  He looked at her, saw her standing outside of the white-stone altar as the thick cloud of blue-white flame rolled out of him. She was raising the gun, eyes cold as ice, her mouth curled in a hard frown as she brought the weapon up.

  She didn’t aim it at him.

  She aimed it at Phoenix.

  Dags rose smoothly from his crouch.

  His wings once more exploded painfully out of his back. Before he could lunge towards Phoenix, however, the circle of blue-white flame slammed into Veronica.

  It threw her arm up, blowing her backwards like an explosion.

  Something about being inside that wave of blue light slowed time even more, giving Dags a view of every increment as she flew back from the blast, her feet leaving the tile floor, her arm flinging sideways, her fingers loosening, losing the gun.

  Dags leapt, both following and using the force of the light to help throw himself over the white stone altar, his wings beating heavily in the blue-tinted angel-flame. He threw his whole body in the direction he’d seen the gun go.

  When he landed, his feet impacted the tile so hard, the white stone cracked into powder under his boots.

  He ran.

  He half-flew and ran for the wall while the Watcher was still midair, reaching the gun right as she slammed into the rounded section of wall on the other side of the room, some twe
nty feet away from where she’d started.

  Time jerked… stumbled… restarted.

  Everything sped up.

  Sound erupted back into Dags’ awareness.

  The Watcher crashed loudly into the tile wall, letting out a pained, muffled, terrified cry, right before she crumpled to the floor, landing on her knees and hands, then face-planted into the stone when she couldn’t hold herself up.

  Dags by then had the gun in his hand.

  He broke it in half, using the blue-white light, then dropped it, gasping, when the red-hot metal burned his hand.

  Kicking away the pieces, he shook out his hands, cursing under his breath.

  He was still shaking them as he crossed the room.

  Conscious of where Phoenix continued to stand, right by the opening into the tunnel, he kept himself and his wings between her and the Watcher as he closed the gap between himself and Veronica in what felt like three strides.

  When he reached her, he used one booted foot to shove her backwards, throwing her into the same section of wall she’d smashed into a few seconds below.

  She gasped, crying out as her spine impacted the stone a second time.

  Her legs were folded under her, her head thrown back.

  She groaned, cradling her arm, which was obviously broken.

  So she was breakable then. She likely had to heal afterwards, just like Dags.

  Closing her eyes, she gasped, fighting to get up, but Dags leaned down, using a hand heavily on her shoulder, the same shoulder connected to her broken arm.

  He pressed down, forcing her firmly back to the tile floor.

  She let out a strangled scream of pain.

  “Stay there,” he growled.

  She gasped, opening her eyes to stare up at him.

  He watched her writhe in pain, gasping out cries.

  When her cries petered down to something closer to whimpers, he crouched down in front of her, his jaw clenched.

  “Are you human?” he growled. “Like me? Did you start out human, at least? Or did you steal this body from someone, like with Jason Tig?”

  She stared at him, gasping, still cradling her hurt arm.

  “I’m a Watcher. You must know⏤”

  “Let’s pretend I don’t,” Dags cut in, cold. “I know you’re out of your fucking mind. I know you murdered Jason Tig. I know you murdered my friend, Jane. I know you tried to murder Karver, and Asia… and now Phoenix. I want you gone. Now. I want you to never come back. To never come near me or mine again.”

  She shook her head. “You know I have no control over that⏤”

  “Let’s pretend you do,” he growled.

  She looked up, staring at him through the pain in her eyes. After studying his face, she gasped a forced laugh, shaking her head.

  “Poor, baby angel. You still don’t know anything, do you?”

  “Tell him,” Dags growled. “Tell Azazel, he’s not welcome here. Tell him to leave me the fuck alone. Tell him to leave Phoenix alone… and all of her friends. Tell him I’ll kill anyone else he sends after either of us.”

  She smiled, still shaking her head.

  “You’re too late, brother,” she said.

  The smile was colder than the dark light in her eyes.

  “Brother Azazel is already here.” The smirk on her face grew. “Who do you think opened the door in the first place?”

  Dags scowled, staring at her, studying her aura.

  “Then tell me how to close it,” he growled.

  “You’re too late,” she said, smiling wider. “We are The Thousand. You’ll never stop us. This is only the beginning.”

  “Great,” he said. “More fucking riddles.”

  He could see nothing but that dark, tar-like, oily substance all over her aura now. He wondered how he’d missed it the first time he met her.

  Clearly, she’d hidden it from him somehow, when he first met her at the house in Malibu.

  So that was a thing.

  A new thing⏤as in, something he didn’t know supernaturals could do.

  He was wasting his time, asking her questions.

  She wasn’t going to tell him anything more than she already had.

  He was tempted to hand her over to Kara.

  Maybe the LAPD would have more luck with her.

  He was still staring at her, trying to decide what to do next⏤

  ⏤when she threw back her head, mouth open.

  Weirdly, it didn’t look like she did it at all.

  It looked more like some unseen force grabbed her by the face, slamming her head back into the tile wall, hard enough to break more of the tile. Then that same unseen force yanked her chin up, her mouth open.

  It should have knocked her out.

  With a normal, non-angelic person, it would have.

  Instead, she let out another blood-curdling scream.

  Her body contorted, writhing in what looked like unbearable pain. Horror filled her expression, her cheekbones and jaw morphing into inhuman shapes. It looked like something was breaking the bones under her skin, rearranging them into grotesque shapes.

  Briefly, Dags saw a different face there.

  It stared at him.

  Yellow eyes, a smirk on its lips that slid into a wolf-like smile.

  A different voice spoke out of that throat.

  Male. Sounding like razor blades on a chalkboard and glass.

  “Be seeing you, brother,” the voice said.

  The Watcher winked.

  …and then it was gone.

  Chapter 34

  Open Doors

  Dags frowned, staring out at the ocean, inhaling the salt-tinged air.

  He rested his hands on the balcony, listening to the other three talk. He hadn’t contributed much since they got here. Hell, he was still trying to decide why he’d let them talk him into coming back here in the first place.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he focused on the three people in the hot tub. Without him willing it, his eyes sought out the woman in the lime green bikini top and black swim shorts.

  Once he’d found her with his eyes, he realized he knew why he’d come back here.

  He was a fucking idiot.

  At least Steve McQueen was happy.

  The husky-shepherd mix, after throwing himself enthusiastically into the Malibu house’s swimming pool and paddling around like a ding-dong for ten or so minutes, was now curled up on a giant pillow just inside the glass doors of the living room area on the second floor. The deck above the one where Dags first saw Phoenix had its own lap pool, not to mention a second jacuzzi, and a stunning view of the ocean and surrounding cliffs.

  Dags glanced over at the dog now, and saw that Steve McQueen had officially passed out. The dog sprawled on his back, his white belly exposed and stretched out over the fattest part of the pillow.

  Returning his gaze to the ocean, and the sliver of moon reflecting off the black water, Dags fought to think. His mind was still mostly fuzzy, clunking through the events of the night like a machine with broken gears. It took most of the walk down the mountain for Dags to even bring the blue-green lightning back under control; it took most of the drive back to Malibu for him to calm down well enough to be able to answer basic questions.

  He’d checked Veronica after the demon… or whatever it was… left her.

  She was dead.

  He’d tried doing basic CPR, just in case, but there was nothing there.

  Her aura was completely snuffed out.

  He was still looking at the sliver of moon over the ocean when Karver’s voice got louder, loud enough that Dags could no longer ignore it.

  “So what the hell do we do now?” he said. “Report her missing? For crying out loud, Phoenix… she was your assistant for four years. People are going to notice if she just up and vanishes, whether she has family or not. Do you just tell them you fired her?”

  Dags’ fingers tightened on the railing.

  He’d been thinking about that, too.

 
“Why don’t we just call in an anonymous tip?” Asia suggested, throwing up a hand while gripping a margarita glass in the other. “Tell them about the tree. Tell them how to access that creepy crypt, or whatever the hell it was. We could just let them find her.”

  Dags turned, frowning at that.

  “No,” he growled.

  All three of them looked up at him.

  Briefly, he saw fear in their eyes.

  Well, Karver’s mostly, but he saw flickers of fear in Asia’s, too.

  “Why not?” Karver said mildly. “I thought you said you didn’t kill her.”

  “I didn’t kill her,” Dags said, knowing he sounded defensive as he swiveled his gaze to stare at the male movie star. “But our prints are all over that crypt. Probably DNA, too. Even if we cleaned it up, how the hell would we explain even knowing about that place?”

  There was a silence.

  “We can’t just leave her down there,” Karver said, his voice colder. “It’s inhuman. It’s positively ghoulish. Even for you.”

  Dags frowned.

  Truthfully, he didn’t really care about that side of things.

  The woman was dead. He’d never understood the obsession with how corpses were treated, and he understood it even less now that he could see auras. Everything that made the person special, everything thing that made them them, had already left the building. From Dags’ perspective, it was like freaking out over how to dispose of a bucket of compost.

  He wasn’t really worried about jail, either.

  He was worried about anyone else going into that crypt.

  The place hadn’t felt entirely “dead” to him when he left.

  “No,” he said, speaking before he knew he meant to. “We’re not telling anyone about the thing under that tree. Forget it. Absolutely not.”

  “You think it’s still awake,” Phoenix said.

  Dags turned, looking at her.

  Seeing the serious, worried look on her face, he could only nod.

  “Yes,” he said, exhaling. “And until I can shut it down for real, we can’t let anyone else go down there. We definitely shouldn’t be sending people who would have no idea what they were walking into.”