by Debra Dunbar
Were angels gay? I’d never really thought about it before. Nisroc looked rather asexual in appearance, even though he clearly had some sort of thing for me. But this guy…there was all that power, the gorgeous face, the rockin bod, and something in the curve of his lips that hinted at a playful sort of sexy. Maybe I was wrong, or maybe he was batting for the other team. Either way, I wasn’t going to find out, because I’d been told my whole life that angels killed Nephilim on sight. That right there ruled out any of the lurid fantasies that were running through my brain at the moment. Even if everyone was wrong and he was no threat to me, he’d hardly want to go frolic in the fields with a Nephilim. No angel with that much power would be interested in little ole me, even if I wasn’t half human.
Instead of greeting Nisroc, Pretty-boy looked around as if he were an interior decorator and found my house completely lacking in aesthetics. “Well, that certainly looks like the sort of thing a demon would have in their house.”
He was pointing at the line of stuffed heads on my wall and his drawling tone made me puff up with indignation. This was Alaska. Everyone had deer and bear heads on their wall. Mine just included chimera and a manticore. And hopefully would soon include a hydra and some drop bears. Hopefully.
To Nisroc’s credit, he didn’t even side-eye the closet where I was hidden. “Taxidermy is an acceptable accent in human room décor, especially in this state. It’s not been two hours yet. It hasn’t even been an hour yet. You said I’d have two hours to get the map.”
The angel strolled over to my computer and looked first at the map, then down at the scrawled notes I’d made.
“Yes, I know. Don’t worry, you still have two hours. Is this it? I never thought we angels were much in the way of human tech, so your demon must be the one with computer skills.”
“I told you, there isn’t a demon in Alaska. I don’t have a demon anywhere let alone in this house. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. I’ll meet you by the gateway at our agreed-upon time.”
No, he didn’t have a demon in this house, he had a Nephilim. I narrowed my eyes, glaring at the pretty-boy angel. I wasn’t a demon. The very thought of someone calling me a demon made me want to get my rifle.
In spite of the clear dismissal, the angel didn’t leave. “You have someone who is giving you these coordinates — someone I would like to meet. If not a demon, then what? A witch? A sorcerer? An unusually skilled werewolf? This place feels like werewolves and by the way, that watercolor of bears in the river is dreadful.”
Fuck him. I’d painted that. And it wasn’t bears, it was beavers. Not that he probably would recognize a beaver if it was right in front of his face. And yes, I meant every bit of the sexual innuendo in that.
“Yes, yes. This house belongs to one of the local werewolves. I try to have a good relationship with them. And now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Pretty-boy raised an eyebrow. “This project is important enough to you that you begged me to stay, that you’re away from your assigned post to work with someone getting these coordinates. Demon, talented werewolf, psychic human, whatever. I’ll need to borrow him if you want me to close the rifts right now as opposed to in a few months.”
I edged away from the closet door, my palms sweating. He couldn’t “borrow” me. I wasn’t a demon, a werewolf, or a psychic human, I was a Nephilim, the product of angelic sin. As hot as this angel was, as harmless as Nisroc was, I was still a bit worried that an angel would do me harm if he found me out. If Pretty-boy would just go away and let me finish writing down the rift locations, this would all be fine. And by fine, I meant rifts closed and me not dead.
Nisroc looked like a deer in headlights. “There is no demon, werewolf, or psychic human. Please, just let me finish and meet you in an hour. Please.”
Pretty-boy folded his arms across his magnificent chest. Biceps bulged. I drooled. It was a testament to my level of crazy that I wanted to crawl all over this angel. Angel. Scary, otherworldly being that might or might not kill me on sight. And I wanted to run my hands, and more, over his naked body.
“Come on, Nisroc, you know as well as I do that you didn’t sense those wild gates. You didn’t. The werewolves didn’t. The humans sure as heck didn’t. It has to be a demon. I don’t fault you for letting one sweet-talk his way through the gate from Hel and into staying here. I’m hardly the angel to be enforcing the letter of the law. You’ve got a crisis. I don’t feel like flying all over this enormous state with a map, trying to figure out where these rifts are. I need a demon that can see them. You obviously know a demon residing locally that can do so. Stop with the lies and bring him out of the closet. I can promise immunity if the demon assists in the project.”
I nearly shit my pants when he said the thing about the closet, but clearly that was a metaphor and not some angelic ESP that there was a Nephilim, as opposed to a demon, in the closet.
Nisroc looked terrified, as if he were having the same fears about angel ESP that I was. “I can’t. I don’t have a demon in the closet.”
The pole holding the coats in said closet chose that moment to fall, raining the rest of the jackets, hats and gloves, as well as hangers down upon me with a crash and whacking me in the head. The door yanked open and I looked up into Pretty-boy’s amazing violet-colored eyes, peeking out at him from under a mountain of clothing.
Those dark eyebrows rose. “Thought so. Come out of there.”
“You said I’d get asylum or immunity or something. I heard you say that and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a contract. We have a contract and if I come out of this closet you won’t kill me.”
He rolled his eyes. “I said if a demon worked with me to close the rifts, he’d get immunity. Coming out of the closet is the first step in that process, but that action alone doesn’t grant you any sort of exception to the rules.”
Such an angel. It’s not like I had much of a choice though. Maybe it would work in my favor if I did exactly what he said. Beyond that, I wasn’t about to face my possible death crouched down on a closet floor with five layers of clothes on top of me. So I pushed them off and stood.
The smug, you-are-so-busted look on Pretty-boy’s face became something else. He looked as if he were on the verge of passing out, or maybe he was suffering a catastrophic cardiac event.
“Ack.”
That’s what the angel said. It was a choking noise which reminded me of the time Sabrina had gotten a chicken bone lodged in her throat. Was something wrong with him? Was ‘ack’ something in that weird angel language? Was that what angels said before they killed Nephilim?
I looked at Nisroc. Would he defend me? Would we both die?
“I’m not…you…where…?” Pretty-boy was now speaking, which ruled out choking. I eyed his chest, wondering if I dared push him to the floor, jump on him, and rip his shirt off to do CPR. It would totally be worth my death to get my hands on this guy’s naked chest and plant my lips on his. Totally worth it.
“I saw her first. I have first suit. You can work with her, but you have to stand aside and let me have my chance.”
What the fuck was Nisroc talking about?
Pretty-boy recovered his composure and scowled. “You knew. You knew and you told nobody. You knew and you hid her from the rest of us. Just because you were the first angel to lay eyes on her doesn’t give you the right to claim first suit.”
And what the fuck was he talking about? If they wanted a suit, I knew of a decent rental place in Juneau, but what did I have to do with that? Did closing the rifts require formal attire?
“I’ll file a complaint,” Nisroc shot back.
Pretty-boy shimmered, glowing a bright white. The energy he exuded increased to the point that I found it hard to stand. Suddenly he was no longer powerful-sexy-playful angel, he was just powerful. And dangerous. Forget Nisroc defending me, would I defend him? I’m embarrassed to admit I wasn’t sure.
“A gate guardian, one who is tasked with enforcing the rules of
the treaty and delivering punishment to those who break the treaty, will file a complaint that I’m not following protocol?”
Nisroc winced. “Please don’t. Please don’t throw her into Hel. Please don’t kill her,” he pleaded. “It’s not her fault. She doesn’t even know.”
Yes, don’t kill me. And didn’t know what?
Pretty-boy shook his head, those violet eyes narrowing. He was still glowing. “You and I will speak about this later,” he told the other angel.
I tensed as he swung his head around to face me, unsure if this was the end.
Chapter 7
Raphael
I’d expected a demon to come crawling out of that closet. I hadn’t in all my wildest dreams ever expected an angel.
An angel. And she was beautiful. Curvy in all the right places with hips that begged for a pair of hands to grip them. She had golden-brown skin and long black hair, dark, almond-shaped eyes and a round, button nose. And she was beautiful beyond the pretty native form she’d assumed. Her spirit-self beneath it all was unique. She didn’t have the lofty vibration pattern that Angels of Order aspired to, nor the deep tones of a demon. This angel was dead center, clear and clean as a church bell, enticing as wind chimes in a spring breeze.
And she was watching me with uncertainty in her eyes, tensed and ready, like a dog who expected to fight for its life. It pissed me off, but it pissed me off more that Nisroc had hidden her existence from the Ruling Council. I knew why he’d done it. He wanted her for himself. He said she didn’t know what she was. Well, he did, and he was keeping silent in hopes of winning her affection before competition moved in. First suit my ass. He was free to woo her, but he had no right to request first suit. He wouldn’t get it either, because from the moment I saw her step out of the closet, I wanted her too.
Three billion years I’d lived. I’d had my fun. I’d enjoyed intimate encounters with both Angels of Chaos and Angels of Order, yet never had I experienced that punched-in-the-gut sensation I’d felt when this angel rose to her feet before me. This Angel of Chaos was not like the ones I’d known before the war had separated our kind. She was so close to the dividing line, almost an Angel of Order. She was that rare angel that straddled both worlds, one that held traits of each. She was just like me, but where I’d been a little bit further on the side of Order, she was clearly a bit further on the side of Chaos.
I could barely wrap my head around it. An Angel of Chaos, right here in Alaska. They’d been banished following the war. They’d gone to Hel to live and interbreed, producing the demons, while Angels of Order stayed in Aaru and became even more entrenched in their rules and restrictive existence. Angels of Order couldn’t create without an Angel of Chaos, so there hadn’t been an angel birth in almost three million years.
She wasn’t that old. She was probably around five or six thousand judging by the tracings of her hidden wings and the energy that flowed from her. Her existence meant an Angel of Order had been having illegal contact with a demon — more than illegal contact. And somehow the naughty angel that sired her had managed to hide her away. For thousands of years an Angel of Chaos had been calling this section of the human world her home, and she didn’t even know what she was. That was wrong. That was so very wrong. And it was a wrong I intended to right, no matter how hard Nisroc begged.
“How long have you known she was here?” I glared at him. He’d lied by omission, helped conceal her. I was barely an Angel of Order, and even I felt the gate guardian had committed an unpardonable offence. I should remove him from his post, send him to the head of his choir to atone, but this gateway to Hel was a difficult assignment, and I wasn’t that much on the side of Order.
Nisroc stepped sideways, trying to angle his body between me and the woman. “About fifty years. When I came here the werewolves were sheltering her. Don’t blame them. They don’t know either.”
Fifty years? “She’s got to be at least five thousand years old. Where was she before the werewolves came to Alaska?”
The woman’s dark brown eyes sparked, her body shimmering as she straightened her shoulders. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here. I’ve been with the werewolves for almost two hundred years. Before that I was with the Tlingit. And before that the Inuit. And before that a group of humans from across the ice. And before that some humans farther south.”
The humans had been hiding her too. Did they know? Not that it mattered. I looked over at Nisroc, saw his aggressive stance, the flash of silver in his eyes. I needed to talk to this Chaos angel, and talk to her alone, but it was clear the gate guardian wasn’t going to leave without a fight. I’d always enjoyed a good fight, but now wasn’t the time, especially in front of the other angel.
“Go on back to Devil’s Paw and the gate. I’ll speak with you later tonight.”
He glared. “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”
Seriously? Did he want me to knock him on his backside? “I won’t hurt her. And I’m not asking you to leave, I’m ordering you.”
“Don’t tell her.”
That wasn’t a promise I was going to make. Whatever she thought she was, she had a right to know the truth. I could understand the humans and werewolves not recognizing a young angel when they saw one, but Nisroc knew and he hadn’t told her.
“Now. I won’t say it again.”
“I’m not leaving. I claim first suit. I—”
I turned around to face the gate guardian and flung out a hand. Nisroc vanished, forcibly transported.
I barely had time to take a breath before I felt her jump onto my back. I fell forward, my face smashing into the oak flooring. She gripped my hair, twisting it tight. “Where is he? Where’s Nisroc? You better not have hurt him.”
Each word was punctuated by my head being yanked up by the hair and my face smashed into the ground. I stifled the urge to laugh. Sassy didn’t begin to describe her. Who was this angel and why hadn’t she appeared in my life two billion years ago? She was more fun than a basket full of rats.
With a flash of light, I vanished, appearing just behind her.
She spun around, long black hair flying as she jumped to her feet. With an outstretched hand her eyes glowed silver, and I knew what was coming. I grabbed her hand, cycling the electricity in a loop back into her own body.
She yelped, raising the other hand to do the same. This time when I grabbed it, she held back the surge of energy. There was a brief tussle with me holding both her hands tight and dancing out of the way of her kicking feet. I’ll admit the whole thing was really starting to turn me on.
“What did you do to Nisroc?” she snarled, giving up on the physical attack.
I shook my head, struggling to restrain myself from reaching beyond her skin to touch her spirit-being. “He’s fine. I returned him to the gate before he hit me and wound up being sent back to Aaru in disgrace.”
The angel stopped trying to pull her hands from mine and bit her lip. It was oh so sexy. “But I hit you.”
“I can hit you back. Maybe straddle you and smack your face into the floor a few times, just so we’re even.”
It was so wrong of me to tease her like that, but I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, and one of the few angels in the last few centuries who’d had the daring to attack me.
“Like hell you will,” she snarled.
She was just as sexy angry as when she was biting her lip. I held her gaze, raising an eyebrow. Minutes passed before she dropped her eyes from mine.
“Just don’t punish Nisroc. He was only protecting me.”
Fierce. Loyal. They were admirable traits, but I couldn’t keep from teasing her further. “He’s hardly innocent, he’s been hiding your existence and leaving his post to come into town. I’m betting he’s even been ordering take-out Chinese food.”
She winced. “You all dumped him here, away from any other angels, to serve out a hundred-year sentence watching that stupid gateway to Hel at the top of a mountain. The local pack befriended him. When he f
ound out there was a Nephilim in the pack, he chose to keep our secret— my secret. For the last fifty years my pack and I have been more a family to Nisroc than any of you were.”
Did she…could she possibly have feelings for that angel? He’d had fifty years to woo her, was it possible he’d won her affections? I felt a stab of panic at the thought. The first angel that had ever stirred my heart and she could possibly have given hers to another. I might be fighting a losing battle, but I was still going to give it my all. The virtues weren’t normally my thing, but I was persistent, and confident no matter how slim my chances.
“I won’t hurt Nisroc,” I promised. Much. I wouldn’t hurt him much.
“Or me? If I help you do I get that immunity you promised?”
“Full immunity. And I won’t hurt you, either. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, then I am completely willing. Whips. Chains. You first, then me. I’ll even let you throw me off a cliff. Does that sound fun?”
There was a hint of a smile on her lush, full lips. She tugged to free her hands, and I reluctantly let them go.
“I’m not into the whips and chains thing, although I might take you up on the offer to throw you off a cliff. You’re kind of silly.”
“I get told that a lot.”
There was a moment between us, a second that seemed to last an eternity as we looked into each other’s eyes to the spirit-self beneath the flesh. I saw her begin to glow white, the aura of her true self revealed. Then she shook her head and broke the spell.
“When do we start?” she asked.
Start what? My first thought was that she wanted to know when we would begin what I was hoping would be a series of torrid physical encounters, then I realized she meant closing the rifts. Not nearly as much fun. Although, I could make this project fun. That was my special skill — turning boring assignments into exciting adventures. “First thing in the morning. I’ll stay here with you, and we can set out at dawn.”
