Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  We all huddled around Danto, watching as Gareth performed another round of healing spells with his elf magic. He’d been at it for over an hour now, sprinkling the vampire with first a large dose of the dragon’s breath and then proceeding with different colored elf dust. His face was screwed up in concentration.

  Gareth had barely said a word as we drove back into the city—me stealing covert looks at my elf lord, him speeding down the highway, his expression guarded. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and it was irritating me. Yes, I’d had an intense glimpse into the elf’s life in only a few hours, but I wanted more.

  I was tired, but I was too wired and worried to let myself snooze for the forty-five minutes it took us to drive south back into Mystic Quarter. However, Tyrius dozed off as soon as he curled around in a ball on my lap. He even drooled a little.

  I watched, transfixed as the elf sprinkled a layer of blue elf dust all over the vampire, his mouth moving rapidly in an Elvish chant. Next to him, I could see the bright ring of the charmed circle of elemental magic embedded in the floor he’d drawn around Danto with the red dragon’s breath colored dust. Radiating out from it were red threads making a spiral pentagram with arcane Elvish symbols.

  The room buzzed with elemental magic, replacing the scent of mold, blood, and death, which was Evanora’s preferred shop fragrance, with the scent of earth, wildflowers, and pinecones. My heart pounded at the sudden jolt of magic as Gareth flung another handful of elf dust, this time a yellowish gold. Power that seemed to have picked up with the rising sun coursed in, finding a balance within Gareth and his elven magic.

  Was he drawing power from the sun? Was that even possible?

  A strong wind rolled through the open windows, sending papers scattering on the ground in every direction. The elf dust flowed with the wind, swimming with it, taking on a wave as though the elf dust manipulated the wind and told it what to do, bending it to its will. The wind stirred around Gareth, lifting his coat around him like a cape.

  Curious, I leaned forward, feeling the flow of energy coursing through me, winding its way through my DNA and right back out like a soul searching for its rightful owner’s body. I shivered as I felt it leave me.

  “Demon balls,” cursed Tyrius, the fur on his back shifting, his eyes wide. He saw me staring and said, “Elemental magic always gives me the willies. Something about Mother Earth and the Netherworld not seeing eye to eye. Just keep your hands to your sides. You never know.”

  Whatever Gareth was doing, it was strong. Very strong. Calling up the earth’s own energies, its own magic, and mixing it with his own wild magic—pullomancy. This wasn’t witch magic, borrowing from demons. This was natural, wild magic. It made me want to learn it even more.

  Gareth knelt above Danto as a faint glow of gold surrounded him, radiating from his skin. Then he leaned forward and placed his hands on Danto.

  Energy pulsed, the wind gusted around the elf and the vampire, and Danto’s pale skin started to glow. The same gold that radiated from Gareth was now glowing from Danto like he’d passed it on to the vampire.

  It seemed similar to the ritual Gareth had performed on the witch after she’d tried to remove my archdemon curse, yet particularly more complex, dangerous and powerful.

  My gaze fell on the old witch, her expression lost in her folds of skin. Evanora was silent as she sat in a chair facing the elf, her cane resting next to her.

  Even with only one good eye, the intensity with which it was absorbing every single bit of detail in the healing ritual was enough for two eyes. It was as though she was processing it, not wanting to miss the smallest detail and recording everything. Evanora was as smart as they came. Was she planning on learning pullomancy? Probably. I knew the white witches used elemental magic. Rumor was it wasn’t as powerful as the dark witches’ magic, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. If the elf was using it to heal a vampire from a powerful archdemon curse, perhaps there was more to the white witches than we knew.

  “I’m not seeing any difference. What if we were too late?” Tyrius sat next to me on the floor, his eyes wide with fear, looking dejected with his ears flat on his head.

  My chest contracted. “It’s going to work.” It had to work. My blood had kept him alive this long. It had to mean something.

  “Just…” the cat exhaled, as though he was formulating what he was about to say next. “Be prepared and expect the worst.”

  Pushing my morbid thoughts away, I looked at Gareth, but the elf gave no indication that he’d heard Tyrius or that we were in the room along with him. His face was set with grim determination as his lips moved in a chant.

  “He was still alive when we got here.” I looked at Danto and searched for a sign of improvement but found none.

  “Barely alive.”

  “Alive is alive. Alive is not dead.”

  The cat shrugged. “Not necessarily. I’ve seen the dead alive—in a matter of speaking.”

  A shiver rolled over me. Yeah. I knew exactly what he was referring to. Unlike many fantasy novels and movies, when a vampire died, he didn’t come back with a second life. He was dead, dead. Just like any other half-breed. Once you’re dead, you stayed dead. Unless a master necromancer decided to play with you, usually you were food for maggots.

  And trust me, that was the better option.

  A moan, though faint, cut through the air as though it had been a scream.

  I jerked upright and pulled myself onto my knees towards Danto. My lips parted.

  Gray eyes stared back at me, those lovely eyes framed with lashes that would make any woman envious. Though his skin was still pale and blemished with a few scars, it wasn’t burned or blackened but rather smooth with his natural fair color. Even his cheeks had a bit of color returning to them.

  Blinking fast, I reached over Danto and grabbed Gareth’s face with my hands, crushing my lips against his. I didn’t care how it looked, or that Evanora might even be taking notes. I just kissed the hell out of that elf.

  His lips moved against mine, and I knelt there, my heart pounding as I tasted him—oak and pine and water shining in the sun. His breath caught, and I swear the elf growled. The scent of lavender and male perspiration rose, and a soft sigh escaped me. God he smelled good.

  For a moment there was just me and the elf. Nothing else mattered. A thrill welled through me from my lips to my toes. My pulse jumped, and I kissed him harder, faster.

  “For the love of demons, get a room,” expressed Tyrius, and the laughter in his voice sobered me right up.

  My heart pounded as I pulled back. I looked at Gareth, the feel of our lips parting sparking through me. His eyes smoldered and I held their heat, tasting him on my lips.

  “That was a thank you kiss,” I said. My lips burned where he had been. I was tingling everywhere, and his eyes danced with desire.

  Gareth’s lips curled into a smile. “You’re welcome.” His eyes lingered on my lips for a moment, and then his attention snapped to Danto. “His breathing is regular. His color is back. It’s what I was hoping for. The dragon’s breath worked. The darkness is gone. It’ll take time, but I’m confident he should make a full recovery.”

  I let out a long breath, settling back on my knees. “Thank the souls.” He was going to be all right.

  The witch leaned back, snorting through her long nose. “Evanora told you the elf could heal the vampire.”

  I felt eyes on me, and I looked up to find Evanora’s milky white eye fixed on me. Damn. That was creepy. But even creepier was the way her lips curled on the ends, her face rising to give me a smile utterly lacking in warmth. What the hell was that about?

  Tyrius leaped up on the vampire’s chest and rubbed his face on his neck. “Dude. Don’t ever not-die again. You hear me? You nearly scared the demon balls right off me.”

  Danto’s eyes widened as his gaze darted about the room, clearly not recognizing Evanora’s shop in broad daylight.

  “We’re in Evanora Crow’s shop,” I told him, and h
e blinked several times, as though seeing the shop for the first time. A faint flush covered his cheeks. “Remember, we came here before…” I couldn’t finish. I didn’t want to bring up the topic of Layla right now. The woman he loved had tried to kill him. But I knew it was pointless.

  Those gray eyes fixed on me. “Layla?” his voice was weak and hoarse, like it was the first time he’d ever used it.

  I leaned over and gingerly pressed my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t talk. Keep your strength. I don’t want you to worry about her right now. We’re going to get her back. Don’t you worry. Everything will be fine. I promise.” Lies. Lies. Lies. I was going straight to the Netherworld when I died, so what did it matter that I said a little white lie to my friend?

  “Rowyn’s right,” said Gareth after a long moment of silence, a slight frown on his face. He took off his hat, settling it next to him on the floor, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You need to concentrate on getting better. On getting your strength back.” The elf’s eyes met mine, and I could tell we were thinking the same thing. The vampire was going to do something stupid before he was completely healed. We’d have to keep an eye on him. Because this time, if Layla fried his ass, he was going to stay dead.

  The truth was, I had no idea how to get Layla back or how to eradicate the darkness. We’d tried to remove it from me before and it had nearly killed the witch. It was hopeless. Part of me knew we’d never get her back. It was already too late.

  Layla had given herself over to the darkness completely. Those black eyes confirmed it. She wasn’t Layla anymore… she was something else.

  But I wouldn’t give up, not when I still drew breath. I wouldn’t let my little sister become Lucian’s puppet. I would get her back. I just didn’t know how.

  I looked at Tyrius and he shared a knowing look of bleakness with me. We both knew what we were up against—a dark power we couldn’t defeat. Lucian was up to something. And we were going to face it on our own.

  I hung my head, hands in my lap. Tyrius’s loud growl pulled my attention back to him as the cat flung himself off the vampire and landed on the floor behind me.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. With my jaw clenched, I whirled around on my knees and cursed.

  There, standing in the doorway was an angel.

  15

  “ W ell, my morning is ruined,” growled Tyrius, his fur standing on end. “What the hell is a freaking halo doing here?”

  I shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t put up the bat signal.”

  The angel was female in her mid-twenties, her long, light brown hair styled neatly in a French braid. Like all angels on this side of the world, her fair skin glowed a soft white light, as though she was illuminated by the almighty from the inside. Dressed all in black in some subtle material, I could see her soul blade on her hip beneath her jacket. She was tall for a woman. Maybe even taller than me.

  I could still kick her ass. But not from the floor on my knees.

  With my eyes never leaving the angel, I got to my feet, very slowly. That was when I spotted something big, furry, and white.

  A wolf.

  Heart pounding, I held my breath as a white wolf, silent and ominous, stepped from behind her. It was terrifying and magnificent with a large, muscular body the size of an Alaskan malamute. Its fur was the color of snow, and its large golden eyes pinned me on the spot with an eerie stare that gleamed with a heightened intelligence. There was something particular about the way it looked at me, as though its eyes were human. Now that was creepier than Evanora’s smile.

  “The mutt had better be a gift for the witch, or we’re going to have a serious problem,” hissed Tyrius, his demon energies bouncing around him. The angel looked at him, her expression indignant, and my tension rose.

  The sound of a chair scraping had me look over my shoulder. The old witch was standing, leaning heavily on her cane. The look on her face was golden—pure and utter hate. I was really starting to like that old witch.

  Gareth moved his body protectively in front of Danto, who had propped himself on his elbows, looking both shocked and amazed. The elf had his hands in his coat pocket, waiting for my signal to dust these celestial pricks.

  My eyes flicked back to the angel and her wolf. The last time I’d faced an angel, he had taken his own life after I’d touched him and somehow killed his soul. I despised angels, but having one commit suicide in front of me had left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  But the angel had also tried to kill me.

  “What the hell do you want?” I said, a deep anger surging as I made a show of my own soul blade at my hip. “I thought I was cleared of all charges.” My eyes darted to her soul blade. She hadn’t touched it. In fact, she hadn’t moved from that spot.

  The corner of the angel’s eyes tightened. “I know that. That’s not why I’m here.”

  I frowned. “Then why are you here?”

  The angel’s hazel eyes were intense and she said, “We’ve been sent to work on your case.”

  “My case?”

  “Your case number 1036,” answered the angel. A flash of interest broke across the angel’s face, and she looked from the vampire on the ground to the elf and then back to me. “You asked for the Legion’s help. Didn’t you?”

  “And they sent you? Just you and your wolf?” I didn’t care that I sounded skeptical and suspicious. How was I supposed to defeat Lucian with a single angel and her pet dog? This was a joke.

  “I’m actually a white German Shepard,” answered the dog, in a voice that sounded human.

  If I hadn’t been so used to talking cats, I might have passed out.

  “Lance is also an angel,” said the angel woman, her expression guarded. “We work on cases together from time to time. He prefers to be in this body, rather than a human body.”

  I knew all about angels and their human flesh suits. They were supposed to represent them on Earth, a mirror-like image of what they once looked like. Maybe this angel dog didn’t like the way he looked and preferred to look like a dog.

  “I’m a Scout,” said the dog proudly.

  Tyrius barked out a lough. “And what do you scout? Fleas?”

  The dog’s ears swirled on the top of his head. “Best one in the Legion, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “I mind.” Tyrius leapt forward and positioned himself before the dog. “I mind a hell of a lot.” He made a face. “What the hell is this? An angel masquerading as a dog? Have you ever seen anything so pathetic?”

  “Not as pathetic as a demon masquerading as a cat,” scoffed the dog. Lance tipped his head towards the cat, teeth showing as he pulled back his lips.

  Oh, boy. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” began Tyrius, his tail slashing behind him like it had a mind of its own. “No. Scratch that. In this case, I love to be the bearer of bad news. And the bad news is… wait for it… how the hell are we supposed to defeat the archdemon with just her and Benji here?”

  “It’s Lance,” growled the angel dog, and I didn’t like the way his ears were down, like he was about to take a bite out of my cat.

  I stared at the female angel, feeling my temper rising. I was exhausted. And this whole thing was really starting to piss me off. “My friend is right. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

  “Of cosmic proportions,” answered Tyrius. “Told you. You can never trust the angels.” At that, the dog growled, scoring a colossal hiss from Tyrius.

  “We need real help,” I said, and the angel’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t do shit with just the two of you.”

  The angel sighed through her nose, looking a little peeved, and I nearly smiled. “The Legion won’t send a cavalry without any proof,” she said with such callous that I glared at her. “No offense, but we don’t know you. You could be lying for all we know.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Why the hell would I lie about that.” I dared her with my eyes, hoping she’d go for h
er blade so I could stab her pretty meat suit. I wanted her gone. But I’d keep the dog. Yeah. He was a keeper.

  Frustrated, I looked to Gareth for advice, but the elf was kneeling next to the vampire, tipping a cup with what I suspected was his miracle drink to the vampire’s mouth. Danto was still in bad shape, and this business with the Legion sending only two aides was all the more aggravating, not to mention destressing. Damn that Legion.

  The angel woman said nothing, though her expression darkened. “I’m here to start an investigation. That’s all. To open a file on you.”

  “You mean you’re going to spy on me.”

  The angel dared to look irritated. “I’m not going to spy on you,” she added and had the nerve to roll her eyes. “I’m here to help. To listen and to give advice, all the while collecting data for the Legion. Think of me as your guardian angel.”

  I barked out a laugh. “A guardian angel? Are you for real? I don’t need a guardian angel. You can go right back up where you came from, angel.” It was just like the Legion of angels not to take this seriously. Bastards. Layla was slowly turning into a demon and they’d sent me Mary Sue with her sidekick Rin Tin Tin.

  “Yeah,” agreed Tyrius. “And take the mutt with you. My delicate skin is breaking into hives with all that dog breath in the air.”

  “Call me a mutt again, demon,” said Lance as he took a step closer to the cat, “and I’ll have you for lunch.”

  Tyrius lifted an eyebrow and picked at a nail from his front paw. “Is that a threat? Mongrel?”

  The dog’s lips twitched. “You betcha, catnip.”

  Tyrius hissed and the dog growled, pulling its lips back to show teeth the size of my thumb. The tension in the air spiked, and so did my adrenaline. Oh, sweet, sweet, adrenaline.

  But the last thing I needed was for Tyrius and the angel dog to get into a fight. Tyrius might break a nail. And that would be bad. He loved his nails.

  “Take it easy, Tyrius,” I purred.

  “What?” said the cat. “The mutt here started it.”

  The angel woman smiled at me but it never reached her eyes. “Fine. We can leave. But know this, Rowyn Sinclair. If we leave and we tell the Legion that you refused our help on this case, do you think they’re going to care if something happens to you? Or Layla? It’s Layla, right? Your sister?”