The Angel's Vow: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Series (Bloodcaster Chronicles Book 2)

by R. L. Perez

  Benny was Second Tier.

  “Why?” I asked in a hard voice, trying to ignore the terror that gripped my chest at the thought of Benny in danger.

  “I don’t know. He never shared anything with me. Just gave me assignments.”

  Yes, Piper was just like me. I’d never asked questions either. As soon as I had, Damien had blackmailed me into doing what he wanted.

  “I know you’re looking for weaknesses,” Piper said. “But he doesn’t have any. Even without his elixirs, he has spells he can cast by cutting himself and spilling his blood. He makes runes with it. Dampening cuffs can’t stop him.”

  I already knew that. When Vince and I had been trapped, I’d used a healing rune on Vince, even though the cuffs on my wrists should’ve stopped my magic. It apparently didn’t work on my blood.

  “No one is unstoppable,” I said, reverting back to my assassin mindset. “Everyone has a weakness.”

  “Not him. He doesn’t love anyone. He only loves his power.”

  I said nothing. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as the barest form of a plan formed in my mind.

  “Benny told me that Reaper saved my aunt,” Piper said in a whisper.

  I stilled and looked at her. That Reaper. Vince.

  “Will you tell him thank you?” Piper asked.

  Thinking of Vince sent knots of longing and sorrow into my chest. Slowly, I nodded. When I stood, Piper took my hand again, her eyes pleading.

  “When you make your move, I want to be a part of it.” Her eyes, once broken, now gleamed with the hungry haze of vengeance. “Let me come with you.”

  Once again, I knew that feeling down to my core. Piper and I were the same. Fueled by the fear of death. Burdened by a power-hungry father. Forced to hone skills that shaped us into brutal warriors.

  “I will,” I promised before I left the room.

  I tracked Benny down in our new offices, a shabby alternative to what we once had. But, for now, it served our purposes. Benny sat at a tiny card table, surrounded by the papers I was supposed to finish.

  When I approached, something unpleasant coiled in my stomach as I realized Benny must’ve returned to Vince’s room to get the papers I’d left.

  I cleared my throat as I approached, but Benny didn’t even glance up. I stood in front of him and crossed my arms, eyebrows raised as I watched him sign a document.

  At long last, Benny exhaled in exasperation and looked up at me, his expression closed off. “Yes?”

  My brows knitted together. Benny had his moments, but he was never this irritable for this long.

  I hated the tendril of dread inside me that told me it was my fault.

  “I need your help setting a trap for Quentin,” I said.

  Benny stared at me, his face betraying nothing. Something sparked in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash. “Oh?” was all he said.

  “You’re not going to like it,” I said.

  Benny snorted without humor. “I’m used to that by now.” There was an edge to his voice that cut right through me. He turned back to the paper in front of him, and for a second, rage shot through me. Was he ignoring me right now?

  I snatched the chair opposite him and plopped down on the other side of the table. He merely raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Out with it,” I snapped.

  “Out with what?”

  “You’ve been pissy for days. Do you need to fight me or something? Blow off some steam?”

  Benny fixed a cold gaze on me. “No. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His jaw went rigid. “It isn’t your business, Cora.”

  A mixture of anger and sorrow swirled in my gut. I took a breath to steady my nerves and said gently, “If you’re a member of my coven, then it is my business. Talk to me, Benny.”

  “We don’t have time for a therapy session,” Benny snapped. “Didn’t you come here to set a plan in motion? There are more important things than my bad mood.”

  I remained quiet for a moment, my perspective shifting. Instead of playing the role of the concerned coven leader, I put myself in Benny’s place. How many days had I been in a funk and didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to anyone about it?

  I sighed. “Like it or not, Benny, we’ll have to make time. Because I need you at your best for this assignment. And no one understands more than I do the cost of fighting when you have something weighing on your mind. Whether you like it or not, it affects your performance. And I need you.”

  Once again, that unreadable thing stirred in his eyes. It lingered for a moment, and then I recognized it.

  Pain. Raw, brutal, all-consuming pain. The sight of it blazing so plainly in his eyes was enough to make my heart stop.

  “I assure you, this isn’t something that can be fixed,” Benny said, his voice low and quiet. “At least, not for a long time.”

  I raised my eyebrows, watching him. Waiting.

  Benny groaned and dropped his head. “Cora‍—‍”

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s up. I don’t care how long it takes.”

  He rubbed his forehead and blew air through his lips. “It’s . . . well, it’s a combination of things, really.”

  I cocked my head with interest.

  His eyes finally met mine, full of anguish. “The anniversary of my wife’s death is this week.”

  A heavy weight settled in my chest. Oh, Lilith. And here I was, thinking he had developed feelings for me. How self-centered was I?

  “And I’m feeling conflicted about . . . so many things,” Benny went on, lowering his gaze. “Anytime I find myself . . . attracted to another woman, the grief of that loss is so much more intense. Like I’m being punished for moving on before I’m ready.”

  My insides went numb. All I could do was stare at him as he expertly avoided my gaze.

  “I’ll be straight with you,” Benny said, raising his eyes to meet mine. Small red splotches formed on his cheeks as he spoke. “I like you, Cora. Probably more than I should. And seeing you with Vince, it just . . . it messed me up.”

  Damn it all, I thought. “Benny‍—‍”

  He raised his hand. “Don’t. Honestly, it’s nothing. It isn’t you that’s hurting me right now. It’s her. Lynn.”

  Lynn. His wife. My mouth opened in surprise.

  “It doesn’t happen often, but since she died, if I ever find myself thinking about another woman like that, the guilt and agony are so crushing and intense that I can’t breathe. And now it’s even more difficult to bear with that anniversary looming closer and closer.”

  My mouth felt dry. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Even if I did want to act on these feelings and date you, I couldn’t. I’m just not in the right headspace for it. I’m still grieving.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But I’m also not a monk. I can’t just turn those feelings off.”

  Lilith, what a mess. All I wanted to do was tell him I could fix this, that there was a solution to heal him. An elixir maybe.

  But grief could only be healed with time.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “Really, I am.”

  Benny offered a wry smile. “You have nothing to be sorry about. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else.”

  Now it was me who avoided his gaze. “I—do you, um, want to find another coven? Would that make things easier?”

  His face slackened in surprise. “What? No, of course not! This is too important.”

  “But if you’re in so much pain‍—‍”

  “I told you, it isn’t you. I’d be feeling this way no matter where I went. And I can’t let grief rule my life. There’s too much for me to do.”

  I nodded, fully understanding this. “Well, if you change your mind, I won’t begrudge you for leaving.”

  His smile turned more sincere. “Thanks.”

  I crossed one leg over the other and rubbed my palms on my jeans. Everything was so complicated now. What was I supposed to say?r />
  Benny cleared his throat. “Well, now that that’s out in the open . . .” He laughed nervously, and I joined in. Something loosened in my chest ever so slightly. Benny’s expression sobered, and he asked, “Did you say you had a plan for catching Quentin?”

  I nodded, leaning forward, eager for the subject change. “Yes. Piper was telling me about him and how he doesn’t seem to have any weaknesses. First of all, I wanted to ask you about Thinkers. She mentioned Quentin was targeting them, specifically Thinkers who are Second Tier—like you. What do you know about that? Do you pose any threat to him?”

  Benny frowned and rubbed his chin in contemplation. “There are so many different variations of Telepaths out there. For instance, Luke and I aren’t exactly the same. No two Thinkers are.” His brows knitted together, his expression growing distant. “But for a Bloodcaster . . .” He trailed off as something lit up in his eyes. “Can you make a Thinking elixir?”

  My mouth opened and closed as I considered this. “Uh, no, actually. I tried once, but it didn’t work. Nothing can replicate a Telepath’s abilities.”

  Benny raised his eyebrows as if this explained it.

  But I shrugged. “Why does that matter? Quentin has an entire arsenal of elixirs and power at his disposal. Why would he care that he can’t duplicate a Thinker’s power?”

  Benny shook his head. “I don’t know. Let me do some research and reach out to my contacts. There are covens of Thinkers out there who would know more about this than me. But if he’s taking out Thinkers because he feels threatened, maybe there’s something we can do that would wound him—or even kill him.”

  I nodded as Benny rose to his feet. I followed suit and cleared my throat. “Uh, that’s not all.”

  He looked at me expectantly.

  “I want to set a trap for him,” I said, “using myself as bait.”

  29

  Vince

  My mind was still abuzz from the heated moment with Cora, and I needed to busy myself with something useful. After dressing, I tracked down Mom in her room a few doors down. I shuddered at the thought of her being so close when Cora and I almost—

  Don’t think about it, Vince, I sternly told myself before knocking briskly on the door.

  I hadn’t realized there were muffled voices until they abruptly went silent. With a frown, I wondered who was with Mom. Gwen, perhaps?

  Someone shuffled around on the other side of the door before it finally opened, and Mom’s wide eyes peered at me through a tiny crack in the door.

  “Vince!” She sounded breathless and a bit startled. She glanced quickly behind her. “Uh, what do you need?”

  “I wanted to know what I can do to help with . . . whatever it is you’re working on.” I tried peering around her to no avail. “Do you need help with any spells or anything? Are the Reapers . . .” I trailed off, unable to concentrate on my words when Mom kept looking over her shoulder at something I couldn’t see. “What’s going on?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

  Mom sighed. “Please don’t be angry with me. I wanted to tell you, but‍—‍”

  “Tell me what?” Urgency flared in me, making my blood pound.

  Mom stood back and held open the door. I strode inside, expecting to find a demon or something threatening.

  Instead, I found a figure sitting at the small table by the TV, his face so familiar but so foreign. A face I never thought I’d see again.

  “Dad,” I croaked.

  Dad stood, his face more tired than I remembered. His hair had grown longer and fell forward into his face. He wore a dress shirt and tie, as if he’d just come from work.

  A lump formed in my throat. Mom shut the door behind me, and I shot her a questioning look. Her mouth opened and closed, her face redder than usual.

  “What—what’s he doing here?” I stammered.

  “I brought him here,” Mom said. “To keep him safe. I didn’t want Quentin using him as leverage.”

  “I’m not entirely helpless,” Dad grumbled.

  Mom snorted. “Yes, you are.”

  Dad grinned.

  Their easy banter—as if they hadn’t been separated for over a decade—made my head spin. I leaned against the wall for support, my mind dizzy and throbbing. “But—why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, remembering Cora’s insistence that I see my dad. Before everything exploded in our face and Quentin abducted her.

  “Well, you were—I just—after everything that happened with Cora‍—‍” Mom stopped abruptly, pressing her lips together. Her eyes were guarded, as if she didn’t want to be completely honest with me.

  Everything that happened with Cora. I remembered Cora saying she wasn’t welcome in my room while Jocelyn, Gwen, and my mom had been in there.

  And Jocelyn’s claim that I’d screwed everything up by going after Cora.

  Ice hardened in my chest. “You didn’t trust me.” My voice was hollow. “Not after I ran off and nearly got myself killed.”

  “Your mom just wanted to wait until I was brought up to speed,” Dad said. “You were the first person I wanted to see, Vince. But you were also injured and needed rest. We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “I’m not a child,” I said, irritation prickling through me. “You don’t have to coddle me.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows as if to say, Don’t we? My blood boiled in response.

  “Yeah, I was reckless,” I grumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.” With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair, my anger ebbing. “I get it.”

  “We weren’t trying to hurt you,” Mom said. Her gaze flicked to Dad, and warmth shone in her eyes.

  Seeing that look—and seeing my dad return it—made all the tension inside me vanish. My parents had been separated for too long. Torn apart by the demands of another realm and my mom’s Reaper responsibilities.

  They needed to re-connect. Who was I to resent them for that? I’d only been away from Cora for a few months and it had been agony. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other—clearly.

  I slowly sank to the edge of Mom’s bed. “Okay, so fill me in. What’s our plan?”

  Mom and Dad shared a look that made me reminiscent of my childhood when they were keeping something from me. Something a child shouldn’t hear.

  “Just tell me,” I urged.

  “We—the Reapers—are considering leaving. Finding a new home.” Mom bit her lip and watched me hesitantly.

  I blanched. “What? How? Where? I thought we could only stay here temporarily.”

  “We can. I don’t mean here in the mortal realm. I mean . . . in the Underworld.”

  My blood chilled. The Underworld. I didn’t know much about it. Only that the Astral Realm served as a bridge between the Underworld and the mortal realm.

  “But you said only dead people could live there,” I said slowly.

  “That’s not entirely true,” Mom hedged. “Gwen may have found a loophole.”

  There was hope in her voice. It sounded as if she were giving up entirely on the Astral Realm.

  And if that were true . . . did that mean I could never come back here? I would never see Cora or Dad again?

  I shook my head in confusion. “Okay, so . . . you want to just run away? Instead of fighting Quentin?”

  “He has the power of our realm at his disposal. He’s unstoppable. The risk is too great. If we fight him and lose—which is highly likely—then our work can’t continue. The souls of the dead will suffer, and the balance between realms will be torn apart.”

  “It sounds like that’s already happening,” I argued. “He’s already done the damage! We need to stop him before he does any more! Do you really think he won’t try to follow us to the Underworld and finish the job?”

  Mom’s face paled, but her expression hardened with determination. “This isn’t an easy decision, Vince. We have to consider our duty as Reapers.”

  “I am so sick of this,” I snarled, jumping to my feet. “We are not the only magical creatures that exist! There is an
entire coven here—a damn Bloodcaster for Lilith’s sake—who can help us fight this war. We aren’t Quentin’s only enemies. We need to unite with the others who are trying to stop him.”

  “Like Cora.” Mom’s voice was flat and full of sarcasm.

  “Yes.” My voice faltered. I didn’t like the steely look in her eyes.

  “Our problem escalated when you dragged her into this,” Mom said.

  Anger flared within me once more. “None of this is her fault.”

  “Quentin is her father!”

  “Yeah, and unfortunately, we don’t get much choice in who our parents are.” My tone was biting and harsh, and Mom’s head reared back in shock.

  “Vince,” Dad whispered in warning.

  “Cora’s a demon,” Mom snapped, her eyes blazing.

  “No, she isn’t. She’s a Bloodcaster.”

  “She runs a demon coven. She’s on their side!”

  “So?” I cried, raising my arms. “You’re a Reaper, Mom! Who are you to judge? You became a Reaper because your light magic was taken from you. You don’t get to turn your nose up at dark magic anymore.”

  “Look at the facts,” Mom said, stepping toward me. “Over half of the demon population preys on humans. Most of them can’t even control the urge to kill. We turn our nose up at demons for a reason. They are killers, Vince.”

  I shook my head again and took a shaky step away from her. This we’re-better-than-them garbage she was spouting sounded a lot like what Hector believed in when he thought Nephilim should be isolated from everyone else.

  And honestly, were Reapers any different? So secretive, so private . . . They didn’t want to share anything with Cora when we arrived. And now they wanted to look for a new home, away from everyone to carry on this “sacred duty.”

  My gaze shifted to Dad, who watched with a stony expression. The emotion in his eyes, the unease—it suggested he disagreed with Mom.

  But he said nothing.

  I clenched my teeth as resolve and bitter hatred hardened inside me. “Do whatever you want, Mom. But I won’t be any part of it. I’m staying to fight.”

  Mom’s mouth fell open. Dad’s face paled, and he rose to his feet as if to stop me.