“Where did you go? Do you belong to him?” I jerk my head slightly at the handsome man. My only answer is a loud meow. I squat and run my fingers over his soft fur while trying to watch the man from under my lashes.
“Hello.” His voice is deep like a distant thunder and chills race over my body. I’ve only spoken to a few men in my life, and their voices have never washed through me like that one word. I’m both terrified and excited. I don’t answer him. “Cat got your tongue?” His eyes travel over the scar that cuts down my face, and I stiffen, suddenly hating it more. I shake my head once but still refuse to answer. “Is he yours?” He lets his eyes drop to the traitor at my feet.
The words slip out before I can stop them. “I thought maybe he was yours.” I wish my voice sounded stronger or like the angels. They have soft, sexy voices they use to lure men to them. Mine is deep and husky, more mannish than anything else. His lips curve slightly at the corners and a triumphant look flares in those cerulean eyes. Crap.
“So, you can talk. I’m Torryn.” The question is implied, and I sigh as I run my hand up the cat’s long fluffy tail. Surely it won’t hurt to tell him.
“Lillian.” He smiles wider, and I can’t help the smile that I return.
His gaze lifts to the house behind me, and I tense. “I’ve lived here for years and I’ve never noticed this house. Not until I saw you walking the other day.”
Again, not a question, but there is one hidden in it. Shrugging, I straighten and then take a step away. Nerves wind tight in my stomach.
“Lillian, wait.” The please is unsaid, and I get the impression it isn’t something he asks often.
“Those women…” His tone hardens and his eyes darken for an instant. I suck in a deep breath, holding it as I stumble back a few more steps. His hand raises, and Jack meows, drawing my attention before my gaze bounces back to the man.
“Who are you?” I whisper, terrified at what his answer might be. I’ve never seen a male angel, but Grace told me the story of her last day in Heaven. I know there at least used to be the male equivalent to the creatures that I share my home with.
“What are you?” This question is even quieter.
“I’m not like them. It’s a long story, but I know you aren’t either. I’d like to help you.” Yeah right, no one just wants to help.
I shake my head, backing up before spinning and racing away toward the house. I don’t look back until I’m inside and then I peer out of the beveled glass in the back door. The image is distorted, but I can see the shadow of him still standing there and feel his eyes on me even through the glass. I know he can see me, and this knowledge forces my legs into motion once more. This time, I don’t stop until I’m in my room and the door is locked. I’m tempted to cross to the window, but I don’t. Instead I slide down the door and wrap my arms around my trembling legs.
‘You can trust him.’ The deep voice tears a scream from my mouth, and I slap my hand over it, staring at the cat sitting once more on my bed. Is no one as they seem? Tears spring to my eyes.
‘Lillian. I’ve come to help, and I found him to help you also.’ Once again, the voice slides into my mind.
“Stop. Please stop. I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I won’t again.” They have played this game before. Messing with people’s minds is one of their favorite games. Maybe none of this is real.
No one will save you, Lillian.
I stomp the tiny spark of hope out before it can catch fire. He isn’t real, and neither is the man.
7
Captain Jack
They have all but broken this girl.
The thought gives me pause. Have I waited too long? I watch her, tempted to show her my true form, but I know it would only make things worse. Instead I jump down and silently cross to her. Rising up and placing my front paws on her knees, I bump her cheek with my head. A heart wrenching sob breaks from her.
“I so wanted a friend. I wanted to believe you were real.” The words touch a heart I long ago hardened. I comfort her the only way I can that won’t push her into even more distress, pushing at her hands until she wraps them around me gently and lifts me into her lap. Hot tears wet my fur as she cries with her face buried against my neck.
We sit this way until her tears slow. Finally, she lifts her head, her eyes locked on me. “I’m going to pretend for a while longer, if you don’t mind.”
I have to get those demons to get her out of this place and away from these evil angels. Our time is running out. We have watched since they found the tiny girl, watched as they didn’t kill her. We were mistaken to think she was fine as long as she lived.
She sits me gently down and then stands, pushing her hair away from her face before walking into her bathroom. I watch as she leans in turning on the water. She stares at herself in the mirror, and I wonder what she is thinking. Steam begins to thicken the air, and she sighs deeply before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head. Just before I turn away, I see the scars criss-crossing her body, and rage floods my body. Her skin is a map of torture and horror, things done by beings created to love and care for others. It makes me disgusted. It makes me want to go down and kill them as they rest, but even I can’t kill them without help.
I leave her while she stands under the hot water. I can’t help her here right now. Flashing out of the house, I slip through their barrier; it wasn’t created for one like me. He is still standing on the sidewalk, although he has moved slightly farther down the street, his eyes locked on the house.
I remember him from before. He’s angrier now, but it will aid him in the fight to come. Turning, I look back as I feel a slight surge in power. There, in the shadows stands Micheangela; she along with Seraphina are the worst of those that fell.
It had been a domino effect -- the first fell after killing the seven and many others, and then others watched as they ran amok among the humans, doing whatever they wanted. Many that made the choice afterwards only wanted the freedom to sin, hungering for the decadence of the flesh. They do not fight in the war, uninterested in the fate of humanity.
They would be, if they understood. Her eyes scan the grounds, skipping over me in this body, which is why I chose it.
Turning away from her, I make my way to him. ‘Take me to your leader.’ I find my joke funny. If his face is anything to go by, he doesn’t.
“I’ll take you to Evander. Unless you mean Lucifer?” He raises an eyebrow.
‘Neither scare me, Torryn. And neither does a once upon a time guardian angel with no one to guard.’ His nostrils flare; it is the only hint of how much my words surprise him. ‘I knew you as you were, and I know you as you are.’
I say nothing else as he turns and stalks to a low slung, matte black sports car. Instead I follow right on his heels and leap in as he opens the door. Settling myself in the passenger seat, I curl up and wrap my tail around my face, ignoring his look as he slides in and starts the engine. It growls and vibrates the car as he whips out into midday traffic. We race through the city, heading southwest to the edge of the Bayou des Allemands, where the offices of Demon Bayou Rum have been since the days of pirates and smuggling. I haven’t only been watching the Fallen.
Evander was smart to choose this city as a base. I only wish he had caught them the first few times they had been here killing. Unfortunately, Seraphina had been much more careful before. She only grows bold because of the new lead on the other women. Another reason these demons must hurry. It will do no good to save Lillian if they find the others.
I have a moment of regret, of self doubt over my own inaction all these thousands of years. So many lives have been lost, families destroyed by their vengeance, but I couldn’t risk changing fate or the prophecy.
“You coming?” His perturbed tone interrupts my self reflection, and I raise my eyes glaring at him before standing and stretching.
I walk slowly across the leather seat before digging my claws into the Italian leather at a hop to the ground. I can hear hi
s molars grinding. I’m not sure I can smile in this form but if it is possible, I am.
Just like at the house, I saunter through their magical security, and it gives the demon pause.
He has reason to be concerned. That is only a hint of the power I have. If only it was enough to end this war.
8
Torryn
She was striking. Beautiful in an unconventional way. The scar made her even more so, at least to me. I ignored the cat as I pondered her. She is a mystery. Why would a human woman be living with the Fallen? I had driven here on autopilot, as even now I’m out of sync with everything around me. The cat is standing on the steps of the antebellum home we have used for offices, watching me. His black fur is stark against the crisp white paint and faded bricks.
Staring at him for a few moments, I try to get a sense of who and what he really is.
‘Are you going to stand there all day?’ The deep voice startles me enough that I shift into a defensive stance. Did that fucker just roll his damn eyes at me? I shove the door of the car, and it slams hard. The noise from it echoes over the water of the bayou. The symphony of insects falls silent. All I hear is my own heart beat and the low rumble of a purr.
His tail switches from side to side as I stomp up the stairs and open the door. Let him be pissed. I know that isn’t his true form; he could change to something with hands, I’m sure.
The knob of the door bounces off the wall, and Evander peers up one eyebrow raised. I step aside, sweeping my hand behind me. That eyebrow drops and joins the other as it furrows.
“You get a pet?” He asks as he pushes back from his desk.
“No.” My flat tone matches my deadpan expression.
‘Pet, indeed.’ The voice rumbles through my brain, and anger simmers in it.
The beast flounces into the middle of the office as Evander steps around his desk. In the time it takes me to blink, the huge black cat is replaced by an angel, fucking wings and all. I try not to gape. Memories of Heaven pour through my mind, and I fist my hands at my side.
“I’m here to help.” He is dark like the cat -- dark chocolate flesh with dark, wavy hair. His eyes are the bright golden green of the cat. It is slightly unsettling, and yet I can’t look away. He smiles, and his teeth are brilliant white and perfect. The smile makes me tense for reasons I can’t explain. I don’t recognize him.
I glance at Evander. I don’t see recognition but I do see something else. Shifting my stance, I ready myself to defend my friend and leader. He is still beside his desk, and I see his finger slide under the edge of it. Oh shit, this is bad. That alarm goes directly to Lucifer. The thought has barely formed in my mind when the man himself appears behind Evander’s desk in front of the large stained-glass window. His glow lights the window like the sun before he controls it as his eyes narrow.
“Caliel.” Respect fills his smoky voice. Caliel. I have no clue, but Evander straightens. Yep, this is bad.
“I found him. Well, he found me, but I tracked him to a house on Saint Charles. A house shrouded in magic and reeking of the Fallen.” My words are loud in the silent room.
“He led you to Avalon. You didn’t track him,” Evander murmurs, and I stiffen. He glances at me, noticing the slight movement. “There is only one here that could track him.” His eyes turn to Luc before locking on my own.
Oh. Who is this angel that outranked Evander in Heaven? I look at him with renewed interest. Why did he… lead me to her? The word irritates me almost as much as the look on said angel’s face.
“You were running out of time and nowhere near finding them. The closest you’ve been was last night in the courtyard, but they slipped through your fingers. My sources have told me they are close to finding one of the descendants.” I feel like I’m a kid getting scolded, and it rankles. I hate that he watched as they got away from me.
“You could have told me which way they went,” I grumble.
“Yes, and today you’d be dead.” I open my mouth to respond, my anger boiling over, but Evander shakes his head once. Closing my lips together, I suck in deep breath through my nose. “Your eyes are red.”
No fucking shit, you asshole.
“I can be I suppose.” I didn’t say that out loud. Fuck.
“Why now, Caliel?” Luc walks around the desk and stands in front of the angel. They are quite the pair, light and dark. Caliel glances around the room. A leather club chair appears in front of the bookshelves, and he crosses to it, sitting down. He waves his hand and three others appear, but we don’t move.
“Really? Don't be children. Sit and I will tell you what I can.” Sighing, Luc starts forward, choosing the chair closest to the wall. Evander and I flank the angel.
“Only the Morning Star was before me.” Oh shit, did he really just call him that out loud?
9
Luc
The prophet of God.
I haven’t seen him in thousands of years. He who was made second after me. He who wrote the prophecy. He is watching me closely from his reclined position, his body deceivingly relaxed. I’m not fooled.
“So, why have you come now after all this time?” Like him, I keep a calmness in my voice that I don’t feel. Just seeing him brings up memories of our father casting me in this role I did not want or deserve. Memories of his apathy to what was happening not only to his first children but to the second. One moment, I was standing bathed in his glory and the next, I was in Hell. A place I could’ve never imagined, that didn’t even exist before I arrived. It was darker than anything I’d ever seen, just blackness and nothing. No flames; that is a creation of the church.
“Are you even listening?” The words and angry tone penetrate the fog of my emotions and memories. I shake my head.
“Start again.” He frowns. “Please.” Caliel studies me for a moment before nodding once.
“They have figured a way to find the other descendants.” The words of the prophecy play through my mind, and I glance at Evander; I see he is also remembering the words.
“The other descendants?” Torryn hisses. Turning, I look at him, the meaning of Caliel’s words finally sinking in when I see the realization stamped on his face.
“Who do they already have?” I ask, and Torryn’s face says he knows the answer already.
“Lillian,” the Prophet replies, his voice low. My demon tenses in his seat. “It’s why I led you to her and Avalon. They have kept her all her life, stole her from her family after killing her mother.”
“Why didn’t they just kill her as a baby?” I ask.
“They enjoy the pain they cause her and another by keeping her alive.” Who is the other, I wonder, but know asking will do no good. If he was going to tell us, he would have. Evander is studying Caliel, trying to figure out his true purpose for coming to us.
“You were with the girl. Why didn’t you free her?” Torryn growls, drawing Evander’s concerned gaze.
“It’s not I who was named in the prophecy.” Caliel pins him with a smug look.
Torryn looks at each of us, his eyes moving slowly, taking in every tiny nuance. It is one of his gifts, his ability to read people.
“What haven’t you told me?” Evander sighs heavily at his question. Just as I open my mouth, there is a knock at the door. Our heads turn slowly to the sound.
“What do you want?” Evander yells.
“Torryn told me to come see you today,” is the gruff reply.
“Shit. I did.” The man in question is staring at Caliel. “It’s Dagen. He deserves to know also, don’t you think?” It is a dare. I nod.
“Dagen, come in.” The door opens, and the imposing demon steps through.
Closing the door behind him, he stands in front of it. He is an imposing figure, his light green eyes striking with his caramel skin. My lips twitch at his bleached blonde, well no, not blonde, white hair that stands out stark on his head. A chair appears as the ones we are sitting in shift back, making the circle bigger. I look away from the demon and toward
the angel that is showing off. He smirks.
“Join us.” His voice is even angelic, and the sound causes those pale green eyes to narrow before Dagen’s feet begin to move. None of us miss the defensive posture that remains in his body. Grabbing the chair, he drags it closer to Torryn before flopping in it, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.
He nods at Evander and myself before shifting toward his friend, who raises his fist. He bumps it, and I am again reminded of how modern my champions have become. I hope it helps them in this fight.
“Should we start over?” Caliel asks.
“You haven’t said that much. But Dagen hasn’t been told anything yet.” Evander pins Torryn with a glare, the later only shrugs unrepentant.
“What does Dagen need to know?” The demon asks, speaking of himself.
“So much, my friend.” Torryn’s words are barely audible.
10
Torryn
Lillian is one of the descendants.
The words are stuck on repeat in my brain. I’m not sure why that bothers me so much, but it does. Torture. I see the scar on her face and I know it won’t be her only one. A cracking sound echoes through the overly quiet office, and I focus on the room once again. All eyes are on me. Dagen jerks his head down toward my hands, and I glance down. Sharp, black claws are digging into the arms of my chair, ripping through leather and wood. Oops.
Closing my eyes, I draw deep breaths, forcing myself to calm. We may look human but we are not. Hidden just below the surface is the demon that haunts believers’ nightmares. I feel the claws receding slowly and open my eyes once more.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 75
