Angeli Trilogy: Angeli Books 1-3

by Amy Vansant

Mallory took a step back and raised a hand to his face. Blood streamed from his nose. His beady eyes locked on Tyannah, and he pulled another knife from the sheath on his hip.

  “I’m going to skin you, girl. Make jerky out of that milk chocolate skin of yours.”

  “Exactly how many knives do you have?” asked Rathe.

  Tyannah held her arm to her body, rocking from foot to foot, ready for Mallory to launch himself at her. She could feel her wrist healing. She wanted to delay the fight for a few more seconds. Then she wanted to kill him. He did remind her of her father. Mean as a polecat. Rathe could find someone else to help him fight.

  “Children, please,” said Rathe, stepping between them.

  “Boy, I’m just about tired of you,” said Mallory.

  One moment Rathe and Mallory were squaring off in the parking lot and the next they were gone. Tyannah stood there, alone. She looked at the car. She considered getting inside and driving away as quickly as she could. Maybe Rathe wouldn’t be able to find her…

  No. It would be a death sentence. He could fly. He could move faster than the wind. There would be no escape. She needed to stay until an answer presented itself. She hoped it would be soon. Maybe her destiny was to help the creature with his mission and rid the world of evil.

  She just hoped Mallory was on the death list.

  There was a flash of movement in the forest behind the strip mall. Several minutes later the two men walked from the tree line, Rathe in the lead and Mallory close behind, his head tilted toward the ground. The old man’s clothes were covered in blood. Rathe looked as if he’d just showered, with not a speck of dirt on him. He dressed funny for a powerful alien. He wore baggy jeans and a hoodie like a teenage punk. His long blond hair swung when he walked. He was almost too pretty for a boy. If she’d met him in school she might have liked him, though he was too short and slight to date. One hug and she might accidentally break him.

  Rathe stopped and looked toward the strip mall.

  “Anyone see us?”

  Lost in her thoughts, it took Tyannah a moment to realize he was talking to her.

  “Huh? Oh, no. I don’t think so. I haven’t seen anyone.”

  “We should get some supplies,” he said, walking toward the back door of the gun shop.

  Tyannah looked at Mallory. He glared back at her, betraying no emotion beyond his usual angry simmer, but he had bruises on his face still healing.

  She smiled.

  Rathe must have whupped him.

  She turned and followed the Cherub toward the back entrance of the strip mall.

  Rathe tried the knob of the first store, but found it locked. He motioned for Tyannah to step aside and then pulled the door from its hinges, flinging it ten feet away and narrowly missing Mallory’s head.

  He growled and walked past the other two to enter the thin hallway leading to the gun store. Tyannah followed him, just as a man ran around the corner. The soldier’s hand moved, and when he retracted it, she saw a small silver knife protruding from the clerk’s throat. He crumpled to the ground, gurgling.

  “Is that another knife?” asked Rathe. “You didn’t need to kill him.”

  “I know I didn’t need to. I wanted to.”

  Rathe’s eyes flashed with anger and he pushed past Tyannah.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he roared at the older man, standing a foot from his face. “Do not kill anyone unless I say so. Do I need to take you out into the woods and teach you another lesson?”

  Mallory grunted a reluctant acknowledgement and looked away.

  Rathe pushed past him and walked into the shop. Mallory glanced at Tyannah and then followed, stooping to pull his throwing knife from the dead man’s throat as he passed.

  She took a step forward, but paused before she walked into the store. She peeked around the corner as quickly as she could and then stepped back into the hall. In her past life, her brother had insisted she help rob several stores. She knew the things to look for when entering a new shop. With her new powers, she didn’t worry about the guns behind the counter, but if Rathe didn’t want to be seen, he needed to worry about cameras. A gun shop definitely had cameras. Maybe even a silent alarm.

  “Rathe, cameras. Maybe an alarm button behind the counter or in the back room.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Cameras,” she repeated, peaking around the corner. “Up near the ceiling. The place has cameras.”

  He looked up. He disappeared and then reappeared holding three cameras in his hands, their wires dangling over his fingers.

  “Thank you. Good thinking.”

  She stepped out of the hallway and into the back of the store.

  “Freeze!”

  She heard a clatter and looked right in time to see a cloud of gray ash. A pile of it lay on the ground behind the counter. It had a few white chunks in it, one with knobby edges.

  Bones.

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to kill anyone,” said Mallory.

  “I said you weren’t supposed to kill anyone without my approval. This man deserved to die. The man you killed did not.”

  She stared at the pile of ash. It had taken less than a few seconds for Rathe to ground the man into powder.

  I’m glad I didn’t try to run.

  “What he do that was so bad?” she asked.

  “You don’t need to know and I can’t always tell, anyway. I can just feel it. I can see it and smell it.”

  “Can I do that?’

  “No. Now, you two get what you need. Take anything you want. Mallory, get yourself some new clothes. You can’t walk around covered in blood.”

  “What sort of things do we need?” she asked. “You haven’t told us what we’re doing yet. Do we need guns? Tents?”

  “Get whatever you like to use. These weapons won’t be useful against Angeli, but they might come in handy for something.”

  She walked to the front of the store, locked the door and turned the open sign to closed. Rathe might be powerful but he wasn’t street smart. He wasn’t careful. And Mallory was an animal. He didn’t bother to be careful either. It would be up to her to watch their backs.

  She strolled up and down the aisles and chose a Winchester .33 shotgun. She admired the large selection of hunting gear. She would have loved to have such a shopping spree in her old life. Now, it seemed bittersweet. She saw a compound bow her brother would have died to own. She grabbed it.

  “Do we need camping gear? You never said.”

  “No. Mallory’s days in the woods are over. You don’t even need to sleep. Are you sleepy?”

  She thought about this. He was right. She wasn’t sleepy. She’d been driving for nearly a day and she felt fresh and strong. A smile flickered to her lips.

  “No.”

  She rounded the corner to inspect the next aisle and found Mallory there, stripped naked, about to step into a new pair of camouflage pants.

  He released his grip on the pants and stood straight, his pink-tipped manhood dangling and framed by his opened hands.

  “See anything you like, sweetheart?”

  She snarled with revulsion and spun on her heel to retreat. She could hear Mallory’s deep laugh behind her as she left.

  She moved to the back of the store and perused the knives in the glass case. Rathe stood behind the counter, his hands crossed in front of him.

  “If you want a knife you better get one before Mallory takes them all,” he said.

  “I don’t like him,” she said quietly.

  “Neither do I, but I need him. I don’t have time to train fledgling killers.”

  “What about me? I’m no killer. I didn’t mean to kill my father.”

  Rathe looked at her. He reached out and touched her cheek and she could feel heat radiating from his fingertips. It was warmer than a human hand.

  “You’re a hunter,” he said, his voice tender. “I have faith in you.”

  She blushed and looked away.

  No one had ever said
that to her before.

  She wondered if Rathe had a girlfriend.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anne opened her eyes. She saw a ceiling, yellowed and peeling. She was tingling all over.

  “Annie,” said a voice.

  Anne noticed the shadowy form of Con beside her. He solidified and became more real to her. She feared he was a dream, or maybe she was dead and they were in heaven, or, wherever dead Sentinels went.

  He took her hand. “Are you okay?”

  She looked around the room. From the faded pink curtains, she guessed it was a girl’s bedroom, but nothing else had any feminine flair. Clothes were scattered on almost every available surface. There was a comic book poster on the wall featuring several women in spandex suits, their bodies glowing with power as they flew through the air, seemingly about to burst right through the glossy paper and into the room.

  “Where am I?”

  “We’re still at the farmhouse. I found you in the woods and I brought you up here.”

  She sat up. “How long have I been out?”

  “Hours. I’m not sure how long you were in the woods before I found you, but it’s been eight hours since we arrived, all told.”

  Anne’s skin tingled. She remembered falling and hitting the trees. She remembered Seth grabbing Con and gasped.

  “Wait! He…broke you.”

  “He scattered me. I was able to pull back together again. He pulled the same trick I play on ghosts that annoy me. I probably deserved that.”

  “How did you find me? I fell—”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I started looking for you and something pulled me toward the far eastern corner of the field. I entered the woods and found you on the ground. You were utterly broken.”

  She winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No. You looked like a pretzel. Like a ragdoll thrown into a corner. I thought he’d found a way to kill you.”

  She remembered flying wrapped in Seth’s arms and shuddered.

  “He said he was having too much fun to kill me. Too bad he didn’t think he was having too much fun to drop me from seven thousand feet in the air.”

  She rubbed her neck where it still throbbed.

  Con stroked her hair with his solidified hand.

  “I brought you back here and laid you out as straight as I could to help your bones set.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for finding me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d woken up broken in a million pieces.”

  “Oh, it would have been bad.”

  She peeked under the covers and arched an eyebrow at Con.

  “I see I’m in my underwear.”

  “You were covered in blood and bone. I had to clean you up. Honestly.”

  He chuckled.

  Anne scratched at her arm. The strange tingling under her skin was getting worse. She felt agitated.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I’m tingling.”

  “You’re probably still healing.”

  “No…”

  She felt a panic rising in her. A sort of pressure, as if something clamored to escape from her body. She heard a buzzing in her brain and felt an uncontrollable urge to grab Con.

  “Back up!” she said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Just back up! Go over by the door! Quick!”

  Con zipped to the entrance of the room and stood there, staring at her.

  “What is it?”

  Anne felt a calm wash over her.

  “Walk down the hall and then come back.”

  Con scowled but did as she said. The farther he moved from her, the more at ease she felt. When he returned, she could feel the buzz begin again in her brain.

  “You’re making me tingle.”

  He smirked.

  “Don’t even say it. I’m serious, it’s like something inside me is trying to get to you. I think I have to touch you.”

  “I’ve been waiting years for you to say that.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Something inside me…it wants you.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I’ve literally been waiting years for you to say that.”

  “Con! Stop goofing around. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to touch you and give it what it wants or fight it.”

  “It?”

  “This urge. I don’t know what it is but it’s bigger than me.”

  Con solidified his arm and walked to her.

  “Just do it. What else could happen to me?”

  “I don’t know—”

  Before Anne could finish her thought, she’d grabbed Con’s arm and pulled it to her chest, trying to envelop it. She moved her hand farther up his shoulder. Her breath came in rapid bursts.

  “Do you feel it?” she asked.

  Con fell forward, on to Anne as she clawed further up his arm and reached for his head. She pulled it toward her own, touching her cheek against his as he did his best to solidify the parts of him she grabbed. Her lips touched his jaw and she began to kiss his neck, finding warm flesh where there had only been air a moment before.

  “Annie,” he said, breathless. He pulled her tighter to him and found her mouth with his. They kissed. Anne had never felt so overwhelmed with passion. She couldn’t find a way to get close enough to him.

  He straddled her and pulled off his t-shirt. As it fell to the bed beside her, a thought flashed through her brain.

  How could he remove the shirt from his body and have it stay, independent from him?

  But in her mind, logic fought a losing war. Her question was washed away by the burning need surging through her body. She clawed at Con’s naked torso, gripping his shoulders and pulling him towards her.

  She wanted to crawl inside of him.

  Con fell forward and kissed her neck. Human thoughts swept from her mind as she tried to melt into him. She covered his face with fevered kisses, holding it in her hands—

  His face.

  She could see his face clearly, as well as his muscular chest. She could feel the weight of him on her hips. She sat up and kissed his chest, the soft dark hair brushing against her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his body, and felt the muscles in his back.

  Con lifted his pelvis so that his weight rested on his knees on either side of her. She kissed his stomach and clawed at the button snap of his jeans. He put his hands beneath her arms and slid her out from under him.

  Too far!

  She needed to get back to him.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist as she clamored to hold him. He pulled her close and kissed her neck as he ripped her thin, lacy underwear from her body.

  “Oh god, Annie.”

  She couldn’t speak. She felt like a frenzied animal, reduced to her most basic needs. It was painful to be separated from him by even the smallest of spaces.

  She could smell him, that sweet combination of pineapple and sage he’d always had. Even when she’d teased him about his eighteenth century bathing habits, she’d secretly loved the smell of him.

  She moved with him, the electricity between them nearly unbearable. As they held each other, he pulled energy from her, and she felt that rapturous ecstasy she’d thought only possible with Michael. She’d forgotten Con now hovered between the worlds of Angeli and Sentinels, possessing the power of each. Like Michael he could siphon energy from her, and her body was awash in the familiar pleasure of the sensation.

  But there was something more.

  In their union, she felt a harmony, not unlike her bliss in the nexus with Michael. Except in that strange gossamer world, she’d felt overwhelmed by love bestowed upon her. Now, she felt as if she were the source of that love.

  Intimacy with Con had never been like this. Something was different. Something was happening.

  She tried to pull energy back from him and felt the flow between them reverse. As she did she heard him groan and he moved harder against her until she moaned with
release.

  Con rolled on his side, panting. She tensed, worried the pain of separation would again claw at her.

  She felt only happiness.

  “Jaysus. Is that what it’s like makin’ love to the angel? I can’t hold nothin’ against you for that!”

  “That was something different. I don’t know what that was. Something…” She paused for a full minute before giving up. “Different,” was all she could say.

  “Something amazing. Maybe we should always wait a hundred years between sessions. If it makes it that good, it would be worth it.”

  Anne propped herself up on one elbow and then nearly rolled back down. She still felt lightheaded. “I feel so much better. I felt…I don’t know…bloated.”

  His lip curled.

  “You’re really going to have to work on your sexy talk.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know how else to explain it—” she spotted his t-shirt lying on the bed beside her and recalled her last coherent thought. “Did you notice you took your t-shirt off?”

  “What?”

  She grasped the shirt between her fingers and lifted it.

  “This is your tee.”

  He sat up and slapped his own chest, paused, and then slapped it again.

  “No…”

  “What?”

  “Feel me.”

  “Again? Already?”

  “No, you daft ninny…feel me. I’m whole.”

  He spun over her like a steamroller and she burst into giggles.

  “What are you doing? You weigh a ton!”

  “Exactly!”

  She opened her eyes wide.

  “Oh!”

  She grabbed at him, feeling him from head to toe and he kissed her until she had to push him away to breathe. She took his face in her hands and they beamed at each other.

  “Hello, you,” she said.

  “Hello, you,” he echoed.

  Anne’s phone sprang to life and they both groaned.

  She squirmed out from under him, retrieved her pants from a chair in the corner and dug her cell out of the pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Anne?” said Michael.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay? You sound strange.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So fine,” whispered Con.

  “Who is that?” asked Michael.