Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  “I see the gang’s all here.” Layla cocked her head. “Who’s the glowing bitch?”

  “That’s Jenna,” I said, grinning. I couldn’t help it.

  “I thought you hated angels,” said Layla, a curious smile on her face.

  “I do.” From the corner of my eye I saw Jenna’s attention snap to me. I didn’t have time to think about whether I hurt her feelings. She better get on board.

  Layla’s eyes were on Jenna’s soul blade and they narrowed. I raised my hands, palms up, so she could see that my hands were empty. I wasn’t a threat.

  “Nice cup,” I said, trying to change the subject and get her on track with my plan. I was glad Layla was in a good mood. So far so good. “But it clashes with your outfit.”

  Layla threw back her head and laughed. “I’ve always liked that about you. Your raw sense of humor.” She crossed her legs casually at the knee, sobering fast as her dark companion slipped in behind her eyes. “You know your weapons can’t kill me.” She blinked, and her pupils flashed black.

  Crap . “Who said anything about killing you? It’s not why I’ve come.”

  “Really?” said Layla. “Then why have you come?” She flashed me her straight white teeth. “This?” she raised the cup like she was about to give a toast. “You came for this?”

  “I did.” There was no point in lying.

  Layla giggled like a schoolgirl. Her face even changed color. “You can’t have it. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  “It doesn’t belong to Lucian either,” I said, and Layla let a cruel smile curve the corners of her mouth. I took a steadying breath. “Did he tell you what he wanted it for?”

  “Questions. Questions. Questions.” Layla waved her free hand at me. “What is it with you and all these questions?” Her entire posture now had the relaxed tension of the powerful, sort of a satisfied lioness look after a kill. With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of darkness coiled around her left hand, spiraling around her fingers and her wrists like eerie jewelry. Now she was just showing off. She reminded me of Lucian, and that scared the hell out of me.

  Jenna shifted her weight next to me, her soul blade gripped firmly in her hand. I could almost feel the tension coming off of her. If she was stupid enough to go after Layla, she would die. Not my problem.

  “What do you think Lucian is going to do once he gets the cup?” I asked again, and Layla glanced sharply at me. “You think he’s going to keep you around as his pet? This was his plan all along. You do see that. Right? His previous gift was bullshit. It’s always been about this cup. He doesn’t give a damn about you.”

  Layla’s smile widened. “Did you really think you could come here and talk me into giving you this cup? The cup I had to work so hard for?” Her black eyes darted to Jenna. “I killed angels for that. They begged for their lives just before I took them,” she added, satisfied at the fury behind Jenna’s eyes.

  I stiffened. “I did. I still do. I think, deep down, you know I’m right.”

  “Then you’re an idiot,” said Layla, her voice smooth and confident. It was hard to see my sister through this armor of new evil, but I had to believe she was still in there.

  “This isn’t you,” I tried again.

  “I like the new me. I’m a new kind of demon, of darkness,” she said, and a shudder rolled through me. “I’m your worst nightmare come to walk this side of the world. I have thousands of years of demon power surging through my veins. I live and breathe darkness. I’m so tainted with it that I will use it without thought, without guilt, and without hesitation. Why would I want to go back to plain, ordinary Layla?” she said, the words soft as rain and as commanding as a god’s. “Why would I want to be the shadow of my big sister? Of the famous Hunter, Rowyn Sinclair? I don’t. Not anymore.”

  “It was never like that and you know it.”

  In one fluid motion, Layla swung her legs off the crate and stood. “You know nothing about me,” she hissed. “You don’t know what it’s like not to be born like a normal child, but made… made into this weak nobody. But I’m not weak anymore.”

  “No, more like crazy,” muttered Tyrius. Layla’s focus drifted to him and I shivered.

  “Danto didn’t think you were weak,” I tried. I had to reach her somehow. I searched her face for a reaction, but her features were glued in a manic smile. “He loved you for who you are. And you killed him,” I lied.

  Again I searched her face for a small twitch of recognition, something that showed me a part of Layla was still in there. But her coal-black eyes were empty of emotion.

  Damn. Layla was gone.

  Her face lit up. “Just like I’m going to kill you.” She giggled. She was almost dancing, swinging her arms, the Holy Grail sliding in her loose grip.

  If only I could reach it…

  “Father will be most pleased,” chanted Layla, the gluttonous light of power in her eyes. “You were a disappointment, see. But with you out of the way… there’ll be just me. Me. Me. Me. And Father. As it should have always been.”

  “He was never my father,” I told her, and took a careful step closer, my eyes on the Holy Grail. “You can keep the chain-smoking bastard.”

  Layla’s features twitched as a wash of dark energy flowed around her. She was wreathed in a sheet of black haze, her entire body blazing as she summoned her darkness, power spilling from her.

  Shit. That was bad. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and a shiver rose through me.

  With her face set in a fierce intensity, the fingers of her left hand stilled as coils of darkness waited in her palm. She could fry our asses with a flick of one of her fingers.

  But she hadn’t. Not yet.

  The scent of lavender rose as Gareth spoke in slow, careful syllables, his stance firm and determined, his hands inside his coat pockets.

  “Don’t,” I hissed. I’m almost there.

  A hard expression replaced Gareth’s determination, reminding me of how badass he was with that elf dust. “Rowyn,” he warned, lowering his voice, his shoulders tight with tension. The skin around his eyes gave away his distress. “I can’t wait any longer. She’s going to kill us. Look at her. This isn’t your sister anymore. Your sister’s dead.”

  “I’m with the elf,” muttered the cat in a low voice at my feet. “Dust her now before it’s too late.”

  “It’s already too late,” chimed Layla, her smile telling us that she’d heard everything we said. Guess the darkness came with super-hearing. “It’s too late for the humans. Too late for the angels. And it’s too late for you.”

  My face went cold. “Why does he want the cup, Layla?” my voice rose. Her smile twitched, and I knew I was onto something. “He didn’t tell you. He didn’t tell you because he doesn’t want to share anything with you. Don’t you get it? You’re just a pawn. He used you.”

  Fury flashed in her black eyes, her pretty features drawing up into what was almost a snarl. She drew herself straight and said, “You know nothing.”

  “I know about the wings,” I told her and heard her intake of breath over the thrumming of blood in my ears. “That’s right. I know he wants his wing back. He wants to be an archangel again. And where does that leave you? Nowhere. A demon-thing. A creature of his own making. He can’t take you to Horizon with him. He’s going to abandon you. Because you were just a tool.”

  Layla sneered at what she saw on my face. She had gone stony still, gathering intent and power about her as if pulling it from the shadows itself.

  “You want this?” She lowered the Holy Grail to the floor and then stood. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she said, “Come and get it.”

  I stayed where I was. I wasn’t an idiot. If I moved, I was a fried Rowyn. She knew it. I knew it. This was a game to her, to see how long I’d last. And so far, she was winning.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m pretty eloquent in times of crisis.

  My heart thrashed against my ribcage but I didn’t move as she closed in on us, near enough I could smell
her perfume mixed in the sulfur scent of her darkness.

  And then she flicked her fingers—

  A flash of black and then Gareth was there, flinging out his arms in quick successions. Blue and silver dust exploded out of his hands and showered Layla, like glowing faerie dust. There was sharp sound as the dust hit her, like the clap of thunder.

  Layla stared, transfixed, and then disappeared under the cloud. The air hissed and shifted. The dust shimmered and slowly the cloud of dust lifted. I held my breath.

  Layla stood, a winning smile on her face and her black eyes a promise of a powerful reckoning. “You really should have kept your hands to yourself, elf.”

  “Oh shit,” Tyrius whispered.

  “Oh shit is right.” I took a deep breath, feeling hopeless.

  “Time to split,” said the cat.

  I couldn’t agree with him more.

  Layla’s features twisted, savage and pale, her face hollow, hard, and unyielding. Her smile turned wicked as she focused on Gareth.

  In a blinding fast motion, Layla flicked her wrist, hurling tendrils of darkness from her hand.

  “Gareth!” I shouted and then cowered when I saw her flinging her other hand at me. I hit the floor, just as concrete exploded at the spot I’d been merely a half second ago.

  Heart pounding, I rolled and got to my feet. Gareth, covered in pink elf dust, dodged another blast from Layla, his coat sizzling with coils of black and some rippling from it.

  “Rowyn! We need to get the hell out of here!” cried Tyrius next to me.

  But my eyes were on the cup. Layla had moved away from it, tracking Gareth like a wild predator. It sat there, gleaming in the soft light, forlorn and forgotten.

  “Don’t,” hissed the cat, appearing next to me and seeing where my thoughts had shifted. “She’ll fry your ass. No offense, but she’s a hell of a lot faster than you.”

  My adrenaline rushed through me. I had seconds. “It’s now over never.”

  “Try never ,” warned the cat.

  Layla snarled, her face pinched and twisted making her look feline. In a blur, she flung another tendril of darkness at Gareth. He ducked in time to save his neck but took part of the slash across his cheek and hat. That side of his hat simmered in darkness, his cheek covered in a sheet of blood.

  Damn it. I took a breath, my muscles tightening as I focused on the Holy Grail. I lowered myself onto the balls of my feet—

  A low, loud bellow erupted from inside the building. I turned at the sound of rushing feet.

  And a horde of thirty angels came crashing through the doorway.

  20

  The angel army swooped in a gleaming storm of light and battle cries. The draft of the scent of citrus hit me, and my eyes watered. An equal mix of female and male, the angels were dressed in all black, complete with baldrics, heavy looking swords around their weapons belts, and leather bracers on their arms. Some had a single soul blade in their hand. Others had one in each hand.

  With a blur of white, Lance came bounding in with them. The White German Shepherd came without pause, wild and snarling and looking every bit the wolf I thought he was.

  I’d never seen so many angels at once. I didn’t know whether to be happy, relieved or angry at seeing them. But my anger won the emotional battle. More importantly, they’d ruined my chance at stealing the Holy Grail out from under Layla.

  We could have planned this better.

  “Christ. It’s an avalanche of glowing bastards,” breathed Tyrius, standing next to me.

  With their angel daggers gleaming, they bore straight down upon Layla in a terrifying rush.

  Granted, the sudden angel assault did manage to throw Layla off Gareth for the time being. The elf stood for a moment, panting. Shock creased his expression as his gaze traveled over the angels, his coat smoking like he’d just put out the fire that had been burning it.

  Layla’s sole attention snapped to the angels. She moved to stand next to the Holy Grail, her face twisting in a feral rage like a mother lioness protecting her cub. There was no way I was getting my hands on it now.

  But then Layla’s face shifted into a terrifying grin. She wanted to kill them.

  Covered in a sheet of darkness, the air pulsed with her power, and her energy cackled over her like before a lightning storm.

  She spun towards the rushing cavalry, laughing in wild abandon. She opened her mouth and wailed in utter rage. Her voice was like if the darkness itself could speak, the sound had tiny critters crawling up my spine.

  “Holy mother of all demons,” breathed Tyrius.

  Great. There was no way we could talk some sense into her now that she was high on darkness and pissed as hell.

  The air moved and shifted around me as the angel Legion charged, broke apart, and came barreling towards us.

  “Oh, shit.”

  The ground shook. They were everywhere. A merciless horde of soldiers, they charged, their eyes blind to us and everything around them except for their one objective—kill the darkness bitch.

  It was a goddamn angel stampede.

  “Look out!” I cried as an angel stormed at Tyrius. The cat’s fur bristled with white light and demon energy, but he’d be squished by the time he could Hulk-out into his alter ego, his black panther.

  Instincts kicked in and I reached out and snatched Tyrius, wrapping him around my neck before they trampled him.

  “Now, that’s the smartest thing you’ve done all night,” yelled the cat.

  I cried out as something hard hit me in the back. I stumbled and leaped out of the way as a wall of angels came rushing past me, their sharp blades up like spears. The bastards could have skewered me.

  I wasn’t a genius by any standards, but I was smart enough to see that the angels couldn’t care less about what happened to me. They were here for the Holy Grail.

  They all had that same look in their eyes. It was a get-out-of-the-way-or-I’ll-kill-you kind of look.

  The pounding in my ears gave way to the chimes and rasps of steel hitting the concrete floor along with the shrieks and cries of dying angels. Layla didn’t even have to touch them with her hands anymore. Her darkness did the job well enough. They were dropping like flies, literally.

  Layla spread her arms widely and sent a volley of tendrils at the charging angels in a completely unfair amount of grace and power. They were no match for her.

  I stared opened-mouthed. That could have been me.

  Through the wave of angels, I spotted Jenna, weaving through the masses and moving towards Layla, towards the Holy Grail.

  “She’s dead,” cried Tyrius, reading my mind, and my stomach lurched a little.

  A brilliant white light winked from the Legion of angels. A glass sphere the size of a baseball rested in the hand of one of the male angels, one of the only ones who wasn’t moving at the moment. A white light shone from the inside the sphere as he held it in his hand. It reminded me of my elf stone, but I knew this was something else. The surrounding angels moved away from him, giving him a wide berth.

  “What the hell is that?” came Tyrius’s voice next to my ear.

  I shook my head. But before I could answer, the angel pulled back his arm. With inhuman speed, he shot the glowing sphere.

  It hit Layla square in the chest.

  She stumbled and fell. A white haze covered her, crawling up her arms and legs, growing as it went. Layla scrambled back to her feet looking pissed as she brushed the white lights that danced over her body like they were dirt. The snarl on her face told me she wasn’t afraid. Layla spun, a dance-like step somehow in time with the vast song of the battlefield, and her arms came up, spilling with threads of darkness. Her fingers flicked. Black tendrils coiled around her hands. She hissed and raised her arms—

  Another white sphere hit her. This time next to her heart.

  Layla fell to her knees as the white haze of the sphere engulfed her, creeping up and around her body with a hissing sound. My eyes widened at the sight of her skin
breaking out in angry rashes, splitting into red welts and growing larger by the second. Pain flashed across her face, and she blinked, her eyes brown and burning brightly with fear. Blood spilled from her nose, ears, and the corners of her mouth before she went down.

  The angels swarmed, hitting her again and again with their glowing white spheres of death. Her haze of darkness, her gift, gave her no protection against the angels’ spheres, and they sheared through her power like paper.

  “They’re trying to kill her,” I shouted. Even though Tyrius was on my shoulder, I still had to shout over the sounds of battle to be heard. This was never about helping me or Layla. This was an execution.

  And Layla was dying.

  My heart thrashed in my chest. My legs shook in rage and fear.

  I saw a flash of white and spotted another glowing sphere in the hands of another male angel.

  I looked around and found Gareth staring at me with wide eyes. He stumbled towards us, his cheek oozing blood. He was going to need stitches. I saw his mouth form the word “no.”

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them kill her like that. There was still an innocent young woman in there. And what right did they have to kill her?

  I had seconds before the angel threw his killing sphere.

  Moving on instinct, I spun, pulling Tyrius off of my shoulders and setting him on the floor. And then I was running, my eyes on the white sphere.

  The angel raised his hand.

  And I plowed into him like a linebacker.

  The sphere fell from the angel, a grunt of surprise mixed with pain uttered from his mouth. With a crash, the sphere exploded on the concrete floor in a million brilliant shards.

  The same angel glared at me. I saw the split-second decision he made behind his eyes before he yanked out a soul blade and came for me.

  Shit. I hadn’t thought this through at all.

  He came at me with inhuman speed. The speed of angels was similar to the super speed of vampires.