First Blood

by Susan Sizemore

  Her hand found his. When Jack squeezed, she reluctantly nodded. “All right.”

  “Then we’re off to a beheading,” Hawkins said, grinning, and he turned to the balcony. Giant white wings sprouted from his back. “Who wants a ride?”

  THE guard tower atop the old stone wall had only been used by tourists since the early 1970s, but it served the same function. Annie could see out over the prison courtyard and the front of the wall with barely a turn of her head.

  Annie searched the sea of faces surrounding the silent form standing by the guillotine. Beside her, Jack lowered the binoculars Hawkins had given him.

  “We were flown here,” he said quietly.

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Yes,” she answered, equally low—though she doubted anyone was listening. Though occasionally bumped and jostled by the humans visiting the tower, no one paid attention to them. Probably mistook them for security.

  “Just checking. Did you get much out of him?”

  “No.” Alejandro had been silent on the flight over. “Your guy?”

  “He never stopped talking,” he said, turning to scan the courtyard. “What did you do in the bathroom with him?”

  “Traded shirts, so that he’d smell like me. I think he looked at my boobs. Well, his boobs, but— Never mind. Then he sprayed water on himself, so he’d appear sweaty.”

  “They know what they’re doing, then.”

  “I hope.” She glanced at Hawkins’s familiar profile: her own jaw, her nose, her hair. “So he explained what they are?”

  “Something about a big war in Heaven, demons going to Hell. Then a second war that the angels barely won, and only with the help of humans, so the angels passed their powers on to them. If you die the right way, a human can become a Guardian.”

  There was a right way to die? Annie shook her head, kept searching faces. “And vampires?”

  “That first war, some angels didn’t take sides. They were cursed. It’s their blood that created the first vampires.”

  “Nosferatu,” Annie whispered, and shivered against the chill that ran down her spine. “I’ve heard of them. They’re like the monster version of vampires. I didn’t know we came from them.”

  “Remember that flight that went down last year, London to New York? That was a nosferatu’s work.”

  Annie frowned. “I thought it was a terrorist. They caught her, then she escaped.”

  “That story was Milton’s work.” He glanced at her. “Hawkins was in Seattle when the Guardians destroyed the nephilim there—and he trains with Milton in San Francisco, as well. He said that she was a demon, but she’s not anymore.”

  Her chest was a tight knot. “Are we stupid to trust them? Stupid to think of heading that direction when we leave Philly?”

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I think there’s a lot more to learn. And I’d like to find out.”

  She swallowed her fear, nodded. Hawkins turned his head slightly, and Annie followed the line of his gaze. Hope rose, then quickly deflated. Just a teenager with hair similar to Cricket’s.

  “Annie.” Jack tugged on her sleeve, never lowering his binoculars. “The courtyard, southwest corner.”

  Annie looked, then had to force herself not to shout Cricket’s name. God, she was quick. She moved smoothly through the jumble of people, and though it was late, though there were mostly just adults now, no one glanced twice at her.

  “I can intercept her before she even reaches the guillotine,” Annie murmured. “I could get her, leave the Guardians and the nephilim out of it.”

  She saw that Jack considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “If she screamed, made any kind of commotion, you’d just draw their attent—” His fingers tightened on the lenses. “Annie, look.”

  Her blood froze. Oates was threading through the crowd ten yards behind Cricket.

  “He made her from her picture,” Annie realized. “Oh, God. What now?”

  Jack squeezed her hand. “Let it play. This isn’t any different than what we planned.”

  But she hadn’t known she’d feel so helpless. She tore her gaze from Cricket, stole a glance at Hawkins, and growled through her teeth. “He’s not even looking in the right direction. He’s expecting her to come from streetside.”

  Her heart racing with panic, Annie watched Oates quickly close the gap between himself and Cricket. Too quickly.

  “Oh, God, Jack.” Her fingers flexed. “I can’t stand here and do nothing. I can’t.”

  He nodded. “All right, Annie. You slow him down. But listen—if he comes after you, then you run, or you get behind me, or you use any other human as cover. No arguments.”

  “I don’t have any.” Annie yanked open her jacket, pulled out her throwing stars. A gun wouldn’t slow Oates down. Just her blood. “You get Hawkins’s attention, make him turn her way.”

  “Doing it now,” Jack said, but Annie didn’t look to see how he would.

  She lifted her shirt. Just a slice across her belly, and she’d have the poison she needed.

  A hand clamped around her wrist.

  Instinct took over. Annie pivoted, jabbed up with her elbow. Was blocked. Her hand slashed up—and she stopped with the razor-edged point of the shuriken against a woman’s throat.

  Shock ripped through her. Annie knew that woman’s face. But the eyes weren’t red, weren’t glowing.

  From beside her, Jack’s voice was cold, deadly. “Back off, Milton. Right now.”

  Milton’s gaze didn’t waver from Annie’s. “Throwing that would have been a good idea . . . if we’d held up our end of the plan,” Milton said. Her dark eyes were fearless—and amused. “But about five minutes ago, Alejandro sniffed someone out. So we made a few changes.”

  “Annie?”

  The small, uncertain voice came from behind Milton. Annie pushed the woman aside, stared. “Cricket?”

  Cricket’s face was pale. Her hands were fisted around her backpack straps. “The angel said you were here—”

  Annie flew forward, scooped her up. Clutched her tight. “Oh, sweetie. I missed you. Are you okay?”

  Thin arms wound around her neck, hugged her back. “I was so scared.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Her voice broke. “I know.”

  “Annie,” Jack said softly. “Come look at this.”

  She led Cricket over to him, her wary gaze on Milton.

  Milton waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the show.” She stepped close to the wall, looked over. “Fireworks.” She glanced back at Annie. “I recall that there were fireworks the night we met.”

  Jack drew Annie in against his side, tucked Cricket between them. “Agent Milton—”

  “It’s Lilith now. And watch, for one minute. There’s Alejandro, letting the nephil in close. If Oates’s perversion wasn’t so strong, the demon inside would have probably recognized the difference by now.”

  Annie looked. Oates was only a step behind the shape-shifted Guardian, and twisted pleasure had taken over his face.

  “Now, Alejandro, he’s got a special little Gift. Of all of the Guardians’ powers, it’s one of my favorites. He doesn’t enjoy it so much, of course, but it does come in handy. Particularly when he has a string of explosives to wrap the nephil in.”

  It was almost too fast. Still in a little girl’s form, Alejandro turned. He caught Oates’s arm, while his own whipped around. Oates began to transform: growing, black wings sprouting. Then the Guardian’s white wings spread wide.

  And they both burst into flames. Engulfed, they shot straight up into the air like the launch of a rocket.

  Annie’s head snapped back as she followed the streak of light into the sky. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  “Get distance from him,” Lilith said quietly, staring up. “Get a safe distance, you stupid—”

  The explosion split the air, scattering bursts of colored light.

  Surprise and appreciation lifted through th
e crowd, smatterings of applause. No fear—no one had really seen.

  Annie looked for Hawkins. He was gone. Lilith stepped to the side, spoke urgently into her cell. “Tell me you caught him, Jake, or I’ll rip your wings off.”

  A second later, she lowered her phone. “Burns to heal,” she announced. “But that takes almost no time. Now, Harrington, Gallagher—tell me you are coming to San Francisco. I could use you both at Special Investigations; we won’t even have to train you as much as we do others.”

  Jack’s arm tightened around Annie’s waist, on Cricket’s shoulder. “To do what?”

  She frowned, as if it should have been obvious. “To save the world, of course.” Her gaze shifted to Annie. “And if you need a partner, we’ll work something out.”

  “She has one,” Jack said.

  Lilith’s brows lifted, and she looked pointedly at his mouth. “Not yet.”

  THIRTEEN

  ANNIE CALLED BRIAN FOR A RIDE. HE SHOWED UP with their mother, and Annie and Jack sat in the backseat with Cricket between them.

  She’d hidden in the penitentiary, she told them, in a little, unused office that she could slip off to during the last tour of the night, and curl up under the desk.

  “I’m sneaky,” Cricket announced.

  Annie nodded. “Just like Jack.”

  She stole a shy glance at him, smiled. “And during the day, I went to the theaters. I saw the new Batman thirty times,” she said, with something that sounded like pride, and Annie didn’t let herself break, though all she could imagine was a squalid, dark little room—and Cricket sleeping, cold and alone, with nightmares of the nephilim for company.

  And then spending her days in darkness, too.

  Halfway to Annie’s building, Cricket went from animated to sound asleep. She didn’t stir when Annie carried her from the car, and the girl felt as insubstantial as a feather in her arms.

  But maybe it was only Annie’s own strength that made it seem so.

  “Kids are resilient, Annie,” her mother said as they rode up the elevator. “She’ll be all right.”

  Annie closed her eyes. “She’ll be alone most of the day.”

  Making sure the night-light glowed in the corner of the guest room, Annie placed Cricket on the bed. Sat with her, listened to Jack describe the night’s events to her mother and brother. And finally stood up when she heard him at the bedroom door.

  Love shone in his gaze, and she went to him, let him hold her. She was on the verge of crumpling when Cricket rolled over, said in a voice that had no trace of a little girl, “Are you leaving again, Annie?”

  “No.” She dashed her tears from her cheeks before she turned, stalked to the bed. “And if I ever have to go, I’ll take you with me.”

  Cricket sat up. “Swear?”

  “Yes,” Annie said, and drew one of her daggers. With a quick slice, she opened her own palm. “Give me yours.”

  Cricket’s eyes widened; solemnly, she held out her hand.

  The cut was tiny, and Annie threaded their fingers together, palm to palm. “You’re my blood now, my family. I might not always be there when you wake up, but I will always look for you if you are lost, I will never turn you away, and I will fight to the death to keep you safe. You’re my sunshine girl, Cricket.” She felt the weight of Jack’s hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his body at her back. “And someday, when he knows you better, loves you like I do, my sunshine boy will swear this, too. And you’ll have both of us. All right?”

  “Yes.” Tears trembled on her lashes, and she looked at her palm. Annie used a tissue to wipe it clean; the wound had already healed.

  “You’re the bravest girl I know, Cricket,” she said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Someone will be here when you wake up. I swear that, too.”

  IN the kitchen, Brian got to his feet when she and Jack returned from Cricket’s room. “She’s sleeping?”

  Annie nodded, not trusting her voice. She didn’t know what to do. Simply did not know. Cricket needed a normal life—but there was no way Annie could let her go.

  Jack rounded the counter, opened the Haegele’s box. After selecting three pastries, he took a bite of the first. “Mrs. Gallagher,” he said, “would you be willing to stay overnight, be here tomorrow while we’re sleeping?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes were worried, Annie saw. She kept looking beyond Annie to Cricket’s bedroom door. “But, Annie— will that be enough?”

  Jack was already working on the second, a bear claw of apples and cinnamon. “What do you mean?”

  “You mentioned California, Jack. Are you and Annie considering moving there?”

  “Yes,” Annie answered while Jack licked sugar from his fingers.

  “Well, as much as I enjoy living near my grandchildren, Brian doesn’t need me.”

  He frowned, as if wondering how he’d been brought into this. “Ma—”

  “Hush. I’m still young, I’ve got a big empty house with no one in it, and I’d prefer to be useful. I think Cricket and I could get along fine during the days. Here or in San Francisco.”

  “And I’m sure we’d love to visit, Annie,” Brian put in before she could reply. “My girls are about her age now.”

  Annie held up her hands. “Give me a second. Jesus.” She looked at Jack. “What do you think?”

  He polished off the last Danish. “I think it sounds about perfect.”

  The wonder of it swelled in her chest, and she nodded, fighting tears. “Yes. Absolutely perfect.”

  ANNIE was in her bedroom, standing at the window with the drapes open when Jack returned from Mayfair. He dropped a duffel bag by her closet, wrapped his arms around her.

  “It makes a difference, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Knowing the Guardians are out there—that it’s not just us against the demons.”

  Us. Warmth and hope spilled through her. She and Jack would move on, leaving nothing but phantoms behind.

  And they’d take the memory of one hundred and thirty lives with them.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “And knowing that we can help.”

  His arms tightened. “Your mom went straight to Cricket’s room,” he said. “Long night for her.”

  “For me, they’re never long enough.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You smell like Tastykakes.”

  “I ate a cartonful on the way back. My last meal. Oh, Jesus, Annie—don’t cry.” He turned her, smoothed his thumbs down her cheeks. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. More than anything.” Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes. “But do you want it? For yourself.”

  His hands slid down over her bottom. In a quick move, he hitched her up, her thighs around his waist, his erection hard between her legs.

  He began walking toward the bed, and Annie bit back her moan. His voice was rough in her ear. “Doesn’t that feel like it’s for me?”

  “I hope it’s for me, too, G-Man.”

  Jack grinned, tumbling her onto the mattress and following her down. “My dark/sexy rating goes up. I can lick you underwater until you scream. I can toss cars. I can love you forever.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Though she was laughing, tears rushed in. “You won’t see the sun again.”

  “Annie.” He turned until she rose over him. Gently, his fingers traced the curve of her smile. “Yes, I will.”