Angel Kin

by Tricia Skinner

  Katie watched until he went through the door and it closed behind him.

  Even though she whispered, she hoped he heard her say, “Be careful.”

  …

  The long, dark passageway under the Renegades’ hideout was barely wide enough for Abel to move through. His heightened vision made it possible to duck when he neared the blown ceiling lights, but the sleeves of his jacket slid against the damp stone walls. He dipped his head under another dangling obstruction.

  He glanced over his shoulder, found Dravyn’s smiling face, and scowled. As soon as the club’s patrons had begun destroying the nightclub, the elf had rushed back inside, abandoning his playmate to enjoy the chaos. The bastard then whipped out his phone and accepted a call from their employers.

  So, here they were, summoned to a mansion in the Boston-Edison historic district. Up ahead, a solitary steel door opened as they approached and Dravyn inched closer. “You had to know the TV stunt would piss them off. I hope they fry your ass.”

  Abel snorted as he strode into the room. “Then they’ll accomplish what you never will.”

  The elf grumbled and followed in his wake.

  They were in the basement of the mansion, although the place was difficult to distinguish from a storage facility. Thin layers of dust had settled on the unopened wooden crates packed along the floor. Three walls displayed weapons of every make—automatic rifles, handguns, grenades, swords, daggers, rocket launchers. Abel blew a low whistle at the war arsenal. He walked over and reached for a gleaming sword.

  “I see you appreciate classic weaponry,” came a voice behind him.

  Abel half turned, lowering his hand. “I prefer close-quarters combat.”

  Rahab, one of Mastema’s most trusted soldiers, stepped into view, his eyes trained on the collection. The Renegade’s obsidian wings fluttered as he pulled a sword from the rack. The blade glittered in the room’s light.

  “Battle once involved honor,” the angel said, admiring the steel. “It is a shame the world has forgotten.”

  Abel didn’t believe a word. He was trained to give an enemy no quarter; his tutors had beaten that rule into him during his long stay. Now, he was every bit the killer they’d made him. Honor never came into play.

  “Why did you attack the dance club?” Rahab’s too calm tone brought his gaze to the Renegade’s face.

  Abel shrugged, not caring if his employers were annoyed. “Following orders from your lackey.”

  The angel’s blank expression shifted as he turned his head and glared at Dravyn. He tightened his grip on the sword, his eyes ablaze with power.

  “Actually, I told you to make things interesting,” the elf said. “I left the decision to you.”

  Abel growled at the lying coward. He stepped forward, but found his line of sight blocked by wings.

  “First, you allowed yourself to be filmed during the city hall mission.” Rahab moved, evaporating the gap between them. “Tonight, you attacked a civilian location without sanction.” He loomed close. “Your reply satisfies me not.”

  Dravyn’s low chuckle stabbed at his nerves like splinters. He was in deep shit, and the dark elf had caused it. Abel held Rahab’s fiery gaze, refusing to back down.

  “Our agreement allows me to carry out my objectives along with yours.”

  Rahab released an inhuman sound and flung the sword. It clanked against the weapons rack, dislodging a couple of daggers. A grenade fell harmlessly to the concrete floor. Large hands fisted Abel’s shirt, drawing their chests tight together. Behind Rahab’s back, wings arched high above them.

  “For countless centuries, I have subsisted on one truth—that I would live to see Heaven’s unholy leaders crushed beneath my boots,” the angel said, hatred coating his words. “Yet in mere days, your petty grievance with your sibling has distracted you from your purpose. Tell me, why should I not kill you?”

  Abel was unaccustomed to fear, but the swirling mass flipping his organs like a hooked fish gave him a taste. Whoever said angels were emotionless beings had obviously never pissed one off. His instinct to fight pulsed in his soul, eager to meet the Renegade’s threat.

  But Rahab was a full-blooded fucking angel, a former warrior of the God of All. As much as he’d enjoy nothing more than to snuff the asshole, Abel knew his half-human genetics would ensure he died—painfully.

  “When” — he grabbed the fists clutching his shirt— “I finish with Cain his brotherhood will break. They’re more than a team. They’re family.” The last word struck like a dagger thrust to his jugular. “His death will fracture them with grief.”

  The Renegade didn’t blink, but his massive wings flapped slowly. “Grief is what the Directorate and all who serve them deserve. Pain. Anguish. Destruction laid before them, and mercy a mere dream.” The angel loosened the grip on his shirt. “We will share the hard lessons they once taught us. We will do it in the blood of the innocents they protect and the screams of those who would call to Heaven for aid. These are all part of our greater goal. A world ruled by us.”

  Abel stared into the cold, unreadable eyes. Rahab shoved him away and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Select two weapons.” The angel’s eyes narrowed with his dangerous invitation. “Prove that my brethren have not miscalculated in keeping you alive.”

  Bloody fucking hell. A challenge. Abel stomped to the rack and grabbed the closest swords. He extended his arms, testing each weapon’s balance. Rahab’s angelic gifts were unknown to him, but he brushed the fact aside and tossed a sword to his opponent. As soon as the Renegade touched the hilt, the blade burst into flame.

  Well, shit.

  Abel swung his sword on an arc. The blade’s descent should catch the angel’s left arm, but Rahab dematerialized in an implosion of smoke and light and Abel struck empty air.

  Double shit.

  A pop was the only warning he received a split second before the Renegade’s blade thrust forward. The damned fallen asshole had rematerialized behind him. Abel spun, deflecting the blow, but a lick of flame singed the skin near his kidney.

  Dravyn cackled off to the side, obviously enjoying the show. Bastard. Abel locked that away in his mental torture file. One day soon, the dark elf would die swallowing his tongue.

  “We have always been greater than Heaven. They name us renegades, yet we are so much more.” The angel appeared and slashed out. Abel barely managed to dodge the deadly move before his opponent disappeared. “We chose to live among humanity as a gift. We are gods among lesser beings.”

  Rahab chuckled and pressed the attack, moving like a cloud, disappearing, then popping up in short bursts. Abel growled as his sword cut through nothing. He tried to lock onto the angel’s mind, but the fucking Houdini act made control impossible.

  “You were too human as a child, weakened by emotions. We saved you from the fate of the other half-breeds so you could learn a better path.”

  Another scrape burned along Abel’s back.

  “Starved of wasted emotion. Beaten to understand and control pain. Locked away in isolation to develop our singular purpose. This is why you survived. This is who you were meant to be.”

  Abel whirled, snapped his sword to the side, and clipped Rahab’s right wing before he poofed. He materialized on top of a crate, a wide grin curling his lips.

  “Good enough.” Another pop and the Renegade appeared in front of him, the flaming sword extinguished. “You will refocus on the primary objective. Dispose of the political opposition to Mastema’s plan and clear our path in this city.”

  Abel wiped a bead of sweat from his nose and cast a hard glance at Dravyn. The elf’s tangerine eyes slitted, gazing between the angel and him. Guess a fiery end was not on the Renegade’s calendar tonight.

  “Why is the council important?” Abel angled a look at his employer and clasped his trembling hands behind his back. Show no weakness.

  Rahab walked across the room and yanked the top off a crate big enough to house a flagpole. H
e flicked his wrist and the four-sided box snapped, chunks of wood hitting the floor.

  Abel stepped closer until his eyes widened at the contents. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Close-quarters combat is not always the best option.”

  The surface-to-air missile rested on a thick foam base, the long, gunmetal-gray cylinder had to weigh five thousand pounds. Abel glanced at the crate. He couldn’t see a warhead, but plenty of crates remained closed. This kind of firepower would make Detroit a stronghold for the Renegades.

  “The Council for Supernatural Affairs is a powerful political organization,” Rahab said. “We received assurances its members would join our fight against the Directorate. They did not.”

  Abel rubbed his chin. “So, I kill off the stragglers and the city is forced to hold new elections.”

  Rahab smiled and nodded, clearly pleased he’d figured out this part of their plan. “Our preparations will move forward with a new council containing carefully selected Others who share a deep desire to live to old age.”

  The politics didn’t concern him, so Abel kept his mouth shut. The missiles would deter an air-cavalry-style attack from Heaven, but if the Directorate came down hard, the two factions would turn Detroit to rubble, which would probably suit the Renegades. A war with Heaven would bring them allies.

  “Are we done?” he asked, lowering his eyes in a show of respect Renegades got off on.

  “You may leave.” Rahab walked away, but before he left he glanced back at the dark elf. “Dravyn, a word.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Cain’s SUV idled outside a boarded-up elementary school in Highland Park. He sat behind the wheel, shaking his head. Hard to believe this city, surrounded by Detroit, was once heralded as the “City of Trees.” He stared at the impoverished landscape dotted with withered saplings, weedy vacant lots, and discarded trash. No wonder vampires swarmed around the place. The bloodsuckers preferred the company of other dead things.

  He exited the vehicle and unsnapped the leather clasps on his gun holsters. Abel might have made himself public, but he was damn good at hiding. Vamps were notorious criminals, but they had an information network that rivaled the NSA.

  At a side entrance, Cain slipped soundlessly into the dreary interior. Rusted desks were piled to the ceiling along the back wall. A stench of decay wafted into his nose. He craned his neck, but the only sound to pierce the darkness was the faint drip of water falling from a broken pipe.

  He moved…

  Several clicks sounded around him—the hammers of multiple guns primed for action.

  “You picked the wrong place to rob, sunshine.” A smirking vampire stepped into view.

  Cain planted his boots and stared down the vamp. The bloodsucker was built like an orca whale—stunted arms, bloated upper body, and narrow legs—with a second row of fangs descended in the too-wide mouth, providing a sharklike quality.

  “I’m here for information.” He darted his gaze to the eight vamps now in plain sight. “Where’s Darius?”

  “He moved his operations to Texas. I control the Black Fangs in this quadrant.”

  And Lady Luck smiles. Cain had found the gang threatening Katie’s friends. “I hear your protection racket is booming.” He folded his arms, keeping his fingers close to his guns.

  “Business is business.” The vampire leader shrugged and glanced at his worker bees. “Lately, we’ve been busy with Dravyn’s search for you. Thanks for making that easy.”

  “Who the hell is Dravyn?” Cain compressed his grip on his Desert Eagles.

  The vamp barked out a laugh. “The elf who’s offered a nice retirement package to the first SOB who drops your Nephilim head in his lap. Yours, and the human chick’s.”

  Horror snaked around his spine, and his gut bottomed out. And he’d thought Katie was safe. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  The burly vampire laughed more. “Dravyn never said you were a comedian. You and that sweet piece of ass stand in the way of progress. Me and my boys”— he opened his arms to indicate the rest of his crew— “are what’s known as progress engineers. We solve problems, for a small fee.”

  He’d be compost before the day ended. Cain memorized each walking dead guy’s position. Anger fueled his Grace. Some elf had placed a fucking bounty on Katie. And he’d left her alone with her brother. He ground his teeth as the oxygen thinned in his lungs.

  Cain’s Grace punched out of him on a furious roar. The energy wave blew out the classroom’s windows, forcing the bloodsuckers to cover their heads as shards rained down. Guns raised, he growled a command. “Every man for himself.”

  He launched backward and let loose an explosion of shots. The nine vampires dove for cover and then squared off. Diving behind an overturned teacher’s desk, Cain ducked bullets. Angry screams echoed off the walls. His assailants turned on each other, blasting holes in the pockmarked plaster. Wood splintered from the desk shielding him.

  He peeked around the edge. The leader wasted two of his own men, emptying his 9mm into their heads. Cain counted seven dead bloodsuckers. He aimed and fired. Make that eight.

  The head vampire spat a curse and pulled the trigger. The empty chamber snapped uselessly. Cain rose to his feet, brushing plaster and wood from his jacket.

  “Kneel.” The order rolled over the gravel of his throat.

  The vamp dropped to his knees, his pasty skin shimmering with perspiration. Cain crossed the floor until he towered over the would-be bounty hunter. “Where is Dravyn?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He clenched his jaw. His power controlled actions, but he couldn’t make the bastard tell the truth. Torture wasn’t his style. Tanis had taught The Bound to draw the line somewhere. Some crap about their humanity. Still…

  Cain cracked the side of the vampire’s jaw with his fist and pushed his power into his head. He imagined crushed bones and stab wounds. The vampire screamed.

  “I d-don’t know where he is. I-I swear. We meet where h-he says we meet.”

  No location or home base. The elf would be difficult to track without resources. Cain rolled his shoulders. “Why does he want the woman?”

  The vamp raised his head and showed off a sex-offender smirk. Cain’s fist wiped it off his face and knocked out a tooth. He focused on skinning the bloodsucker in strips, pushing the torture scene into the man’s head. Cain ramped up the images until the vampire cried out.

  “S-she was seen with you. The elf’s been asking about her.”

  Merely associating with Cain had put Katie on some low-life’s radar. He’d never heard of Dravyn. “What does your friend want with me?”

  He added acid to his mental scene. The vamp screamed in pain.

  “Maybe he wants a matching set of pretty boys.”

  The blood in Cain’s veins congealed. “What did you say?”

  “Dravyn’s new boy toy. Your brother.”

  The room felt too small. The light, too damn bright. The bloodsucker’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Ha! Y-You didn’t know the Renegades gave your b-brother to the elf.” The vampire struggled for breath. “Oh, sunshine. You really are a funny, funny man.”

  “Where is he?” The words crawled from Cain’s throat.

  “Let me go, and I’ll see if I can’t arrange a private party,” the vampire said, right before dragging his gaze to Cain’s crotch. “We could have a little sexy fun time with twins.”

  Cain pulled his gun and put two slugs between the bloodsucker’s eyes. He’d heard enough, and the dead gangster was wasting his time while Katie remained exposed, and Abel…

  God of All, he had no idea how to save his brother from the dark road he traveled.

  …

  Katie scratched her head and let out a long yawn. She shuffled her bare feet across the carpet in Jon’s apartment until the smooth tiles of his kitchen chilled her toes. The open window blinds showed a hint of color had pierced the early morning sky. Below the second floor, the southwest
Detroit neighborhood remained lazy and calm. She opened and closed cabinets as quietly as possible. After her last couple of days and last night’s unplanned introduction to Cain, she’d stayed up late with Jon to reassure him and herself that they’d be fine. When they’d finally crawled into their separate bedrooms, neither had the strength to talk anymore.

  Sleep wasn’t exactly what she’d called tossing and turning in the wee hours of the morning. Her friends were still in trouble. Abel was still free and somewhere in Detroit. To rid herself of another replay of Ray’s murder, she’d switched her waking dreams to Cain. The kiss they’d shared. The danger he posed. Had he found Abel? Katie rested her hands on the cool kitchen countertop and searched for something to eat.

  The refrigerator was bachelor ready: beer, mustard, barbecue sauce, and Tupperware containing moldy food. Katie scrunched her face and shut the door. Breakfast from a biohazard zone didn’t appeal to her rumbling stomach. She dove back into the cabinets and then searched the pitiful pantry.

  Not even an orphaned tea bag. She needed caffeine. Her brain demanded stimulants first thing in the morning, or she’d earn a tumor of a headache.

  Katie tiptoed to her room and dressed. Indie restaurants and one extremely awesome coffee shop a few blocks away surrounded Jon’s home. The area was safe. She’d just make a fast run. The thought of fresh bagels and a vanilla mocha had her licking her lips. Super quick. No stops. She stuffed a few singles and her driver’s license in her back pocket and walked into the living room.

  She searched for the apartment keys but didn’t find them. Then she remembered Jon’s habit of placing them and his cellphone on the nightstand near his bed. Crap. Waking him to let her inside after she returned with food was unavoidable.

  Stupid thoughts piled into her head as she gave the apartment one last look. Had Cain slept? Did he sleep? She’d seen the massive bed in his room so yeah, he had to use it. Did he eat the same kind of food she did? And why the hell did any of that crap matter now?

  Katie cursed under her breath and scrawled a note on the back of an envelope and propped it against a cup. On the off chance Jon got up and found her gone, he wouldn’t panic. A short walk to the coffee shop and she’d be back before he knew she’d left.