Angeli Trilogy: Angeli Books 1-3

by Amy Vansant

“Yes! Yes. High-five!”

  “No one does that anymore.”

  “Come on, throw me a bone.”

  She tapped his palm with her fingers and giggled.

  “Good! Nice. Okay, missy, lead the way.”

  She walked along the side of the building until she reached the other end.

  “She should be right behind here,” she said, lightly rapping on the wall.

  “Okay. I’m going to phase through and then come back for you or just come out with her, whichever seems like the smart move at the time. I can’t plan things out too carefully, it’ll mess with my style. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll wait here.”

  “Good. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  She held up her hand. Con grinned and touched his palm to hers.

  “You learn quick. I like that,” he said, before disappearing through the wall.

  She waited, her stomach in knots. She wished she’d thought to grab her shotgun. She expected to see Mallory flying around the corner at any second and she wanted Con back with her. Strangely, she was less frightened of Rathe, the one person who could kill her. Well…besides Michael and Con.

  Hm. The number of people able to kill her was rising.

  She looked up at the trees.

  Maybe I should just run away.

  She could get quite far before anyone came for her. There was too much going on here at the warehouse for anyone to waste time chasing her.

  No. No, she was doing the right thing from now on, like a superhero.

  She resolved to stay put.

  A moment later Con appeared.

  “She isn’t there,” he said. He looked frantic. “Maybe it’s the wrong room? There’s a bunch of wire and there’s fresh blood…”

  “Take me in.”

  Con took her hand and walked her through the wall. The sensation made her skin tingle. The room was as dark as she remembered, with one shaft of light streaming from the tiny overhead window.

  “She was here,” she said, pointing to a pile of wire.

  “Shite!”

  “The others were out in the main area with Michael.”

  She moved to the door and peeked outside. She felt Con move in close behind her, his face above hers.

  In the open warehouse, Rathe stood in the middle of the room, Anne at his feet, slumped forward, her wrists held tight in his hand. Mallory was beside him and Michael stood across from them.

  “He has her.”

  Tyannah could feel Con shaking with anger.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “It will only take one draw to finish her,” said Rathe shaking Anne’s bound hands in front of him. “One draw and she’s dead.”

  Mallory moved to stand behind Michael and placed his hand on the back of the Angelus’ neck.

  “Get on your knees.”

  Michael buckled as Mallory kicked him in the back of the legs and he dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving Anne.

  “Michael, don’t,” she said, her voice weak. “Kill him. Kill him and run.”

  He stared back at her, his jaw clenched.

  Even from his hiding spot twenty yards away, Con could see the love and pain in Michael’s eyes. He knew the look. After years as a ghost, watching the two of them, he knew the way the Arch looked at her better than she did.

  Though she could barely hold up her head, Anne stared back at the angel. Con’s angle didn’t allow for him to see her eyes, but he knew they mirrored Michael’s.

  Does she look at me that way?

  He couldn’t remember.

  He felt a pang in his chest.

  Gritting his teeth, he swallowed.

  Concentrate.

  He looked back in time to see Michael shake his head.

  “I can’t,” said the Angelus.

  He won’t fight. He won’t risk her life.

  Anne tried to pull from Rathe’s grasp. He jerked her arms in response.

  “Give up, and I’ll let her go,” said Rathe. “I give you my word.”

  “What good is your word?” asked Michael.

  Mallory siphoned energy from Michael and he roared. His wing flashed out, searing Mallory’s leg.

  “Don’t do it!” said Rathe, draining Anne further.

  She slumped, held aloft only by Rathe’s grip on her wrists, and Con knew she had little life left to give. He lunged forward but Tyannah pushed back against him.

  “Don’t!” she hissed. “He’ll kill her!”

  He balled his fists and squeezed with frustration. He had to think. Tyannah was right. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t move without thinking, and then nearly rushed into battle. No matter how quickly he moved, Rathe could kill Anne before he reached her.

  He had to wait.

  The effort was agonizing.

  He resumed his place beside Tyannah and peeked into the warehouse.

  Michael had withdrawn his wing and the crew-cut soldier stood behind him, chuckling.

  “He finishes you here and now and I’ll let her go,” repeated Rathe. “I have no interest in her. I’m only here to rid the world of Angeli.”

  Michael took a deep breath. Con saw his chest rise and fall. His gaze never left Anne.

  “I love you, Anne,” he said.

  Con’s jaw fell.

  The big bastard never said that before.

  He looked at Anne to see her reaction. She didn’t move.

  The Angelus tilted his head down and from beneath his brow looked directly at Con.

  He sees me!

  Afraid the Cherub would notice Michael’s gaze, Con ducked back into the room, pulling Tyannah with him. He heard a voice in his head.

  Promise me you’ll save her…

  Con froze. The angel was speaking to him telepathically. Could he do that? He thought a message, hoping the channel worked both ways.

  Of course I’m going to save her, you self-centered git, but not for you…

  Just do it. And bring me back.

  What? What do you mean? Back from where? How? Do you have a plan or something?

  An unintelligible noise echoed in his skull and he realized he’d just heard his first telepathic irritated sigh.

  I have to go. She’ll be stronger than they think. Good luck.

  What? What does that mean?

  As he mentally spoke to the angel he noticed a compound bow tucked in the corner. He looked up and saw rafters above the ceilingless room.

  An idea began to percolate.

  That’s when he noticed Michael wasn’t speaking to him any longer.

  Michael?

  Con moved back to the door and peeked around the corner. Michael’s gaze had returned to Rathe.

  “Do it,” he said.

  Rathe nodded to Mallory. The soldier grinned and tightened his grip on Michael’s throat as he drained the Arch’s energy. Michael made fists with both hands, arms shaking as his life force was torn from him.

  Suddenly, the Angelus lunged forward and grabbed Anne’s foot. Rathe leapt away, first leaving Anne behind and then pulling her back with him.

  Michael burst into a shower of white light, creating a flash that burned starbursts onto Con’s retinas. He saw the Angel’s death replayed every time he blinked. He felt as though the air had been knocked out of him. As much as he and the Arch had bickered, he couldn’t imagine him gone.

  As his vision cleared, he thought he saw Anne’s head move, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Thank you Mallory,” said Rathe.

  Mallory breathed heavily, his eyes wild. He flexed; his body no doubt coursing with Michael’s power.

  “You promised I could have her,” he said. “I want her back.”

  “I think it’s time to get rid of her. She’s dangerous—”

  “If you kill her, I’ll kill you,” screamed Mallory, moving forward.

  Rathe dropped Anne’s arms and jumped back. She fell to her side, unmoving.

  “Fine. Take her. But make sure she’s secure.�
��

  Mallory pushed her with the toe of his boot and, finding her unresponsive, gathered her in his arms.

  “He promised Michael he’d let her go!” whispered Tyannah.

  Con covered her mouth, eyes riveted on Mallory. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to kill someone so badly.

  Mallory locked eyes with Rathe as he brought Anne’s head up near his own and bit her neck where it met her shoulder. She didn’t move.

  “Not here,” said the Cherub, turning away, his lip curled in disgust. “Get out, you animal.”

  Con ducked back inside the dingy room.

  “It’s time,” said Tyannah. “Mallory can’t siphon her but you can siphon him.”

  “Yep. But we have to do it without attracting Rathe’s attention. Is that Mallory’s?” he asked, motioning to the compound bow in the corner.

  She shook her head. “Mine.”

  “You good with it?”

  “Very. When my daddy said go get deer, you didn’t come back without one.”

  “Okay, good. You’re going in the rafters.”

  She looked up and scanned the metal beams.

  “How am I going to get up there?”

  “You could probably jump, but it would be noisy. Leave it to me.”

  She snatched her bow and they waited until they heard Mallory near the door. If they moved to the rafters while he was too far away, he’d see the movement above the room.

  When the time came, Con phased them both and jumped to the rafter directly above their heads. Nestled on their perch, he whispered the rest of his plan to her.

  Mallory carried Anne into the room and laid her down on the ground. He gathered the pile of wire in preparation for securing her.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked her as he idly looped the wire around his arm. “You’re going to want to hear this. We are going to have fun, girly. You ever hear of slow slicing? Death by a thousand cuts?”

  He pulled one of his knives from the sheath on his hip.

  “I cut you, over and over, taking tiny pieces of flesh until you’re dead. But you won’t die, will you? You’ll just keep healing. But you’ll feel every slice. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten past a hundred before. I bet you’ll do much better than—”

  He paused and stiffened. Con knew why.

  He senses us.

  Tyannah knew it, too. Before the soldier could make another sound, she let fly her arrow, just missing his spine and piercing his throat.

  Perfect.

  He made a gurgling noise and grabbed the wall with his left hand to steady himself, pulling frantically at the shaft protruding from his neck with the other.

  Tyannah let fly a second arrow that went through Mallory’s hand, pinning it to the wall.

  Con dropped into the room as Anne’s eyes popped open.

  “Untie me!” she screamed, staring up at Tyannah.

  The girl leapt from her perch, landed beside Anne and unwrapped the wire around her arms. Con pounced on Mallory like a tiger, slamming him into the wall.

  Mallory jerked his hand down the shaft of the arrow that pinned him to the wall and freed it. He pushed against Con, whose fingers were locked firmly around his neck, just above the dart piercing his windpipe. The Irishman growled with the effort, choking harder and harder, syphoning energy from Mallory as though he were a Perfidian. Mallory found his knife in his belt and stabbed Con once in the side, but Con held on, refusing to relent. As Mallory prepared to stab him a second time, Tyannah stepped on his wrist, pinning it to the ground. The soldier’s gaze shifted to her and she stared back at him.

  “Die already, you sick bastard.”

  His fingers fell open and the knife rolled from his grasp before he burst into a shower of orange light.

  Anne half-screamed and half-growled, still frantically trying to unwrap the wire that held her legs together.

  “Sssh!” Con said, spinning and grabbing her wrist. He phased her through the wire and sat her beside him before making her whole.

  He wrapped his arms around her.

  “You have to be quiet or Rathe will be here in a flash,” he whispered. Luckily, her scream could have been the sounds of her struggling to break free from Mallory.

  Con nodded to Tyannah and she peeked outside. She looked back at him and gave a thumbs up. So far, the coast was clear. He couldn’t believe their luck. Tyannah’s shot to the throat had been brilliant for keeping Mallory quiet, but Rathe should have heard some commotion.

  Anne squeezed him, her voice a low growl in his ear.

  “I wanted to kill him.”

  “I know.”

  “You did it too fast.”

  “I know.”

  “He killed Michael. Michael gave me the last of his power so I’d get the chance to kill that—”

  “I know. Sssh…I thought I’d lost you. Can you just let me enjoy this moment?”

  Anne held him tighter. He didn’t know if it was love for him or sadness for the loss of her angel, but for the moment, he didn’t care. He wondered if she’d heard Michael confess his love for her. She’d seemed unconscious then, before the dying Arch awoke her with his final energy transfer.

  Was he duty bound to tell her what the angel said?

  Nah.

  Tyannah stepped out into the warehouse.

  “Where’s she going?” asked Anne.

  “To look for Rathe. He wouldn’t find her presence strange. Maybe she’ll report back…”

  Anne pulled back from Con and stood, wobbling slightly.

  “At least I’m going to kill him,” she said, pointing out to the warehouse.

  Before Con could argue with her, Tyannah returned.

  “He’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “He’s gone. He ran. There’s no sign of him anywhere.”

  She smiled and brushed her cheek as if swatting away a fly. Her touch lingered before she held her hand out in front of her, staring at her fingers.

  “They’re wet,” she said.

  Her eyes were brimming with tears.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Rathe pouted. He’d been outside, looking for Tyannah when he felt Mallory’s pain. He’d turned with every intention of helping his progeny and then…stopped.

  He couldn’t move. He was frozen with fear.

  Images of how his rescue mission might play out rushed through his mind. The scenarios varied, but each ended with Anne Bonny.

  Anne choking him.

  Anne draining him.

  Anne plunging her wretched swords into his skull.

  He’d just met her in the park when she tried to kill him. Imagine how mad she would be after he drained her, killed her boss and let Mallory do god-knows-what to her.

  No, no. Running to save Mallory would be like flying into a volcano.

  When he then felt Mallory die, he ran. He flew in a blind panic, soaring through the sky just as he had in New York. Erratic flight had worked for him once before, and this time he knew Michael wasn’t in pursuit.

  He just worried something worse might be.

  He flew until he ran out of strength.

  That had been hours ago. Now, he walked down a tree-lined street in a town he didn’t know, back at square one.

  He’d killed two Angeli in about a week. That wasn’t too bad. Mallory was dead but maybe when things calmed down he could try to find Tyannah. She might be waiting for him somewhere. Hiding. She was clever.

  Soon, two more Cherubs would arrive; one to take Eris’ place and one to take Michael’s. He would show them the ropes.

  They could work together.

  Teamwork.

  That’s what he’d done wrong. He tried to do it all himself. He tried to rush things by cutting corners. What was he thinking, turning a serial killer into a Sentinel? Next time he’d do things right. He’d locate the new Cherubim and together they would make an army of Sentinels. Then they would destroy the rest of the Angeli.

  Maybe he could even talk the
new Cherubim into killing Anne Bonny. Then he could rest easier.

  He smiled and scratched at his chin.

  Whiskers?

  He stroked the flesh on his cheeks. There was definitely something fuzzy going on there.

  He was growing a beard! How manly. Soon, maybe he could look like an adult. Maybe he could look as impressive as Michael had.

  The idea made him so giddy, he almost didn’t notice the girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk ahead of him. She was one of the neighborhood kids, he imagined, but there was something odd about her. First, it was late for a girl who looked to be twelve years old to be outside, even in such a quiet neighborhood. Human children slept safely in their beds at this hour. Second, she was staring at him, unmoving. The effect was unsettling, so he slowed.

  She stood beneath a streetlamp, the yellow light beaming down upon her head and across her face. As he grew closer, he could see that her eyes were solid black.

  He grinned.

  “Hello,” he said, stopping two feet away from her.

  “Eris?” she said, holding out her hand.

  He took it and they walked hand and hand down the uneven sidewalk.

  “First, we’re going to have to work on those black eyes,” he said. “Then…boy. We have a lot to do. Do you want to feel my beard? It’s new…”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Anne lay on her sofa with her head on Con’s lap. They were back in her New York City apartment; the three of them living like a happy little family. The two Sentinels were watching Tyannah roll a ball back and forth with the dogs.

  They were like the subjects of a Normal Rockwell painting, except for the fact that, somewhere, avenging angels were plotting the end of the world.

  Anne couldn’t stand it. She wanted to be out there, looking for Rathe, revenging Michael’s death. It had been weeks with no sign of the Cherub. An Arch Angelus named Boudica had stepped in as head of the task force to find and remove the Cherubim, but no progress had been made.

  The pug sat on the girl’s lap and the Wheaten lay on Anne’s feet at the foot of the sofa. When Tyannah tossed the ball, the labradoodle, Gordon, raced after it. He’d try to return it, but he’d be stopped half way back by the white mutt, Puffer. Gordon then dropped the ball and Puffer returned it to Tyannah, triumphant.