Dirty Angel (Sainted Sinners #1)

by Vivian Wood

  “How did you get here if this is my dream?” she asked, looking up at Pere Mal. He was eerie in the most supernatural sense, and staring at him too long gave her goosebumps.

  “Hard to say, cher. Perhaps a part of you wanted to talk to me, n’est-ce pas?”

  Echo bit her lip. He might be right. She didn’t want to interact with him, exactly, but she did want to resolve the situation so that she could begin her life with Rhys without looking over her shoulder.

  “Why are you here, then?” she asked. “Somehow, I doubt that you came here to help me out.”

  “You think not?” Pere Mal asked, giving her a measuring glance.

  “You don’t seem the type,” Echo said with a shrug. “Oh, and you’re a kidnapper who sends his henchmen to beat on little old ladies in their own homes.”

  Pere Mal seemed taken aback, then he laughed.

  “You must mean your aunt,” he said with a grin. “She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, I assure you. If I wanted to harm her, it would be much more difficult than simply trapping her in a warded room. Besides, I’d rather come right to the source. Tee-Elle can’t give me what I want.”

  “Neither can I,” Echo said, fisting her hands on her hips.

  “Sure you can. You make a quick trip past the Veil, talk to a few spirits. Then you never see me again,” Pere Mal said with a shrug.

  “Uh, I doubt that. Rhys is a Guardian, so I think we’ll see plenty of each other from here on out,” Echo replied.

  “If you say so, cher,” Pere Mal answered. “I think you and I would not cross paths, because your mate will not let you out of the house to begin with. You’ve given your man the run of things, have you not?”

  His words stung, but Echo refused to be cowed by him.

  “I’m not going to help you,” she said flatly.

  Pere Mal affected a sigh, shaking his head.

  “Don’t make me threaten you, cher,” Pere Mal began.

  “Don’t call me that!” Echo snapped, her patience coming to an end.

  “As you wish,” he said. “It does not change the facts. If you do not get me what I want, I will kill your mate. Your aunt, too. I will keep killing until you do as I ask.”

  Echo stilled, trying to gauge Pere Mal’s intent. She took a page out of Tee-Elle’s book and opened her mind to view his aura, nearly taking a physical step backward when she saw it. It was almost entirely red, a deep crimson the exact shade of freshly spilled blood. The violence simmering beneath his carefully calculated demeanor was obvious enough.

  Pere Mal wouldn’t hesitate to kill Rhys, Tee-Elle, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be close to Echo’s heart.

  “You have a day to think about it,” Pere Mal said, reaching into his suit jacket and producing a business card, which he thrust out at Echo. When she hesitated, Pere Mal actually bared his teeth at her. For the first time, she noticed that his teeth were filed into cruel, sickening points.

  Echo reached out and took the card with trembling fingers, and Pere Mal’s expression smoothed to perfect blankness once more.

  “Excellent. I expect to hear from you by tomorrow, Echo. Otherwise I’ll be visiting your mate.” He paused, then gave her a sort of pitying glance. “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over this, cher. You’re going to give me what I want. It is foreseen.”

  Echo opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She blinked and found herself sprawled across Rhys’s bed once more, shaking and covered in sweat. Clutched in her right hand was a crumpled business card, and Echo didn’t need to look at it to know it was Pere Mal’s.

  “What the hell?” she whispered, curling into a ball as she tried to fight back tears.

  Though it was still before dawn, Echo knew there would be no more sleep for her, not anytime soon.

  Echo lay in bed late the next night, unable to return to sleep despite her growing exhaustion. Rhys was sprawled out beside her, stomach and face pressed into the comforter, giving Echo a close and personal view of his finely-sculpted back, ass, and legs. One arm was thrown across Echo’s stomach, holding her close as he slept.

  Echo reached out to run her fingers through his hair, a sad smile playing on her lips. He was so beautiful, and such a good mate. Maybe a little overprotective. Okay, a lot overprotective, but Echo had never felt so cherished in her life. The connection she had with Rhys was stronger than any she’d known, even with her beloved Tee-Elle.

  Rhys had crept into her heart and made himself at home there, though they’d only known each other a short time. Echo worried about him when they weren’t in the same room, just as he did about her. The protective instinct went both ways between them, and that was why Echo’s heart was so pained right this moment.

  After an hour of mind-blowing, exceedingly naughty sex, Rhys had collapsed on the bed and announced that the Guardians would begin attacking Pere Mal’s properties one by one, an attempt to break up Pere Mal’s organization and find any other kidnapping victims that he might be holding the way he had Tee-Elle.

  Echo had nodded, barely listening as she fell asleep. Then she’d had the most vivid, terrifying dream of her entire life, watching half a dozen scenarios play out in which Pere Mal killed Rhys. She’d watched her mate gunned down in the street by thugs, watched him mauled by a zombi, watched Pere Mal rip his heart out of his chest. Then there was death by poison, death in a Gray Market cage match against another bear shifter, death by suffocation after being buried alive by Pere Mal’s cronies.

  After the last one, Echo awoke gasping for breath. Rhys, still asleep, mumbled something and pulled her a little closer, attuned to her needs even in slumber. That was the kicker, the moment Echo knew that she was going to have to give herself over to Pere Mal. Rhys was too good, too wonderful. He protected the city, looked out for the other Guardians, just as he had for his clan.

  But who looked out for Rhys? There was no one, save Echo, and she damned sure wasn’t going to be the one to let him die for something as stupid as a little information.

  Still, Echo didn’t want to give some innocent girl’s name to a wicked man like Pere Mal, so she’d come up with a pretty series of lies. Names and detailed information on the Second and Third Lights, all completely made up.

  All she had to do was project a truthful aura as she told the lies, and Pere Mal would never know the difference.

  Simple. Easy as pie, she told herself, but in reality Echo was scared out of her mind.

  Giving Rhys one last long look, Echo eased his arm off her stomach. He grumbled a protest, still dead asleep, but Echo just dropped a kiss on his bare shoulder and slipped out of bed.

  She went to the guest bedroom to dress and find the crumpled business card bearing Pere Mal’s information, which she’d hidden under the mattress. After putting on jeans, sneakers, and one of Rhys’s t-shirts for good luck, Echo snuck downstairs. She was out of the front door before anyone noticed, and halfway down the block before she paused to look back at the Manor, her heart pounding even as tears pricked her eyes.

  Shaking her head, Echo squared her shoulders and kept moving, raising her arm to flag a cab.

  It’s for the best, she kept telling herself. You can do this. You can protect him.

  That didn’t stop a lone tear from breaking free and rolling down her cheek as Echo slid into a taxi, unable to shake the regret growing in her chest even as she gave the driver the address. Things were already in motion, and she would let them play out.

  Whatever would be, would be.

  14

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rhys

  Rhys woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. He sat up, disoriented, and reached for it. He frowned at the screen, swiping to accept the call even as he turned and frowned at the empty bed. His brain was trying to process Echo’s absence and a four a.m. phone call at the same time, and failing.

  “Hello?” he asked, scanning the room for clues as to Echo’s whereabouts.

  “You ain’t been keep
ing track of my girl,” came Tee-Elle’s voice. She sounded more than a little angry, and Rhys blinked in confusion.

  “How did you get this number?” he asked.

  “That’s the first question you ask?” Tee-Elle shot back. “Maybe you should be asking me where your girl is, huh?”

  Rhys’s heart faltered for a moment.

  “Uh… Okay, where is Echo?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “I don’t know where she’s going exactly, but she just left my house. Sneaky little thief doesn’t think I know, but she came in and took some of my gris-gris bags. Looks like she’s going to need some protection, and I’d bet you anything that little fool is doing something that’s going to get her hurt.”

  Rhys was on his feet, trying to hunt down his jeans from where he’d flung them earlier.

  “You don’t know where she’s going, though?” he demanded.

  “She’s going to find Pere Mal. I’m just not sure where that is,” Tee-Elle said. “She also took some gris-gris that boosts privacy, cloaking or hiding the aura and the presence of magic. I can’t find her in my scrying mirror.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Mmm-hmm. You’d better find my girl, bear. Otherwise you and me, we’re gonna have a problem.”

  “Aye,” Rhys said. “Thank you for calling. I’ll have her home soon enough, and you can scold her as soon as I’m done.”

  Tee-Elle hung up with a huff, and Rhys raced out of his rooms and upstairs to pound on Gabriel’s door. Gabriel appeared, shirtless, and Rhys heard a feminine giggle from somewhere in the other Guardian’s rooms.

  “Not a good time,” Gabriel said, ready to close the door in Rhys’s face.

  “Echo’s gone to Pere Mal,” Rhys said, holding the door open with a hand.

  Gabriel paused, lips thinning.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Not sure. I thought you could run one of those tracking spells like you did with that grave robber a few months ago, show us her movements for the last few hours.”

  After a moment, Gabriel nodded.

  “Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes,” Gabriel said, turning away. “And call Aeric in from patrol. We’ll need him.”

  “Make it five,” Rhys growled, ignoring Gabriel’s sigh of displeasure.

  In less than twenty minutes, all three Guardians were standing in the gymnasium, suited up in tactical gear and full weaponry. Rhys fiddled with the pommel of his sword as Gabriel worked his tracing spell. Gabriel’s eyes were closed, eyeballs moving back and forth behind his eyelids as he reviewed Echo’s movements.

  Aeric gave Rhys a long look, and Rhys realized that he was drumming his fingertips on his sword, trying to relieve his impatience. Luckily Gabriel chose that moment to open his eyes, resolving both issues at once.

  “She’s in Gentilly Terrace,” Gabriel said, naming a neighborhood about fifteen minutes’ drive from the Manor. “It’s a property we knew Pere Mal owned, but it’s all but abandoned. It would have been two weeks before we explored it, going down our property list.”

  “Let’s load up,” Rhys said, turning toward the garage.

  The sound of a throat clearing froze him in place. He pivoted back to find Mere Marie only feet away, dressed in a flowing white robe and a matching head wrap. Damn, but the woman moved like a fucking house cat. They were going to have to put a bell on her to keep her from sneaking up on them.

  “Mistress,” Rhys and Gabriel said at the same time. Aeric merely inclined his head to their employer.

  “I have something I think you will find helpful,” Mere Marie said. She produced the longest, most wicked-looking dagger Rhys had ever seen, all silver with a strange red cast to it. The dagger lay on a bed of crushed velvet, and Rhys could tell that she was taking care not to touch the metal with her bare hands.

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked.

  “Don’t worry about that. The only things you need to know are that it is intended for Pere Mal alone, and that it may only used once. It will stop him in his tracks, I assure you. Oh, and you’ll want to wear gloves if you’re going to use it.”

  Aeric took the blade, wrapping it in the velvet cloth, and went to the ammo cage in search of a couple of pairs of leather fencing gloves.

  “If one of us sticks Pere Mal with this knife, is that it? The end of the Guardians, I mean?” Gabriel asked.

  Mere Marie cocked her head, giving Gabriel a considering look.

  “And just where would you go, my dear?” was her only reply.

  She turned and headed back to the house, missing Gabriel’s thunderous scowl.

  “Come on,” Rhys said, clapping a hand to Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t let her bait you.”

  Aeric returned, throwing them each a pair of gloves, and they all headed for the garage. Gabriel used an iPad to pull up satellite and street view images of the house they were heading to, and they discussed tactical issues as they drove. They pulled into a quiet section of the Gentilly Terrace neighborhood, finding the house on a long street lined with squat brick bungalows.

  “There, on the left,” Aeric said, pointing out the house.

  Rhys pulled the SUV up across the street, not bothering with keeping a low profile. The second that Echo had knocked on this door, Pere Mal had likely started looking out for the Guardians.

  Rhys pushed down the anger burning in his chest at the thought of Echo being foolish enough to give herself up to Pere Mal. No doubt the man had threatened her, threatened kill Tee-Elle or something. But the fact that she hadn’t trusted Rhys to protect her, to protect her family, was a blow straight to the heart.

  On top of that, his mate had made things so easy for Pere Mal, all the while making things much harder for the Guardians.

  “Rhys,” Aeric said, nudging his shoulder. “We need to execute the plan.”

  Rhys nodded, shaking off his dark thoughts as they exited the SUV. Aeric held the enchanted dagger, but all three men pulled on gloves. Sunrise was still an hour or more away, so the Guardians were alone on the street, all the houses silent and dark.

  They ran to the door on silent feet, Gabriel kicking in the front door and stepping back to let Rhys enter first.

  “Shi—” Rhys started, but his speech was cut off as he felt the brief moment of free fall and heard the soft sucking pop. They’d walked right into a bolt-hole.

  Rhys stumbled to a stop, Gabriel and Aeric bumping his shoulders as they flanked him, all three trying to take in their new surroundings. They were in a completely different house, this one a once-grand Victorian number with crumbling walls, a glassless chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a grand staircase missing half its steps.

  Moonlight streamed in through a broken window by the front door, and Rhys cocked his head to listen. The house seemed empty and silent, and he gestured to Gabriel and Aeric to follow as he headed through the ground floor, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

  The house was massive. Rhys passed several parlors and a sprawling kitchen on his way to the back door, which let out into a wildly overgrown garden. The whole yard was lined with unkempt bushes that were at least twice Rhys’s height.

  “A fucking hedge maze?” Gabriel sighed as he pointed out a break in the verdant fence. “Really? Where are we, a Lewis Carroll novel?”

  Rhys ignored Gabriel’s joke and headed for the entrance to the maze, leading the other two men. They hit a dead end almost immediately. Turning around, Rhys went the other way. In less than a minute, they hit another dead end, then another.

  “Where the hell are we?” Rhys asked, looking up at the sky. The sun was high and bright, but the air around them was dry and cool. Clearly they weren’t in New Orleans anymore.

  “I think… I could be wrong, but I think we’re in Ireland,” Gabriel said.

  “Why would we be in Ireland?” Aeric asked.

  “Mere Marie said that Pere Mal wants to find the Gates of Guinee, because he wants a way into the spirit realm. There are lots of other gates, though. Irel
and is lousy with them, if you know where to look. Or you happen to know a Faery who will tell you,” Gabriel explained. “And the weather is right. The air smells a bit salty, like we’re close to the sea. I think we’re in southern Ireland, and our friend Pere Mal has found a place where the Druids used to congregate, where the Veil is thinnest.”

  Rhys grunted, disinterested in engaging in a speculative debate while his mate was in danger. He kept moving, growing more and more frustrated by the moment.

  The walls were higher and more chaotic as they went, closing in on them as they progressed into the maze; by the time they hit a fourth dead end, Rhys was feeling so claustrophobic that his skin was crawling, the fine hairs at his nape standing on end.

  “Let me,” Aeric said when Rhys stopped and clenched his fists in anger and frustration. “There is a trick, I think. A pattern.”

  Rhys shot him a grateful glance and nodded, and in a few minutes they were deep in the maze, closing in on the middle.

  Gabriel stopped them both, cupping a hand to his ear, encouraging them to listen.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know anything else!” came Echo’s tearful voice, faint but unmistakable.

  “You cannot lie to Pere Mal, cher,” came the reply. “Tell me the names.”

  A high-pitched scream followed, and Aeric had to restrain Rhys from climbing the closest maze wall to get to Echo. Aeric took point, leading them around two sharp turns. A large gap in the maze appeared at the end of the row and the Guardians moved on it as quickly as they could without giving themselves away.

  “Cassandra!” Echo sobbed.

  Rhys burst into a clearing to find his mate lashed to a huge marble statue of a weeping angel, Echo’s arms tied to the angel’s outstretched wings, her torso pinned in by the angel’s arms.

  Pere Mal stood beside her holding a long, thin black wand in one hand and a ceremonial dagger in the other; between Pere Mal and Echo was a seven-pointed star outlined in chalk and salt, a small scrying mirror lying in the middle.