Angel Kin

by Tricia Skinner

  “Aw, yeah,” Kas said. “My brother is rockin’ his lady-killer threads.”

  Cain coughed to hide a smile. “Go away.”

  “Hey, you won’t let me tag along on your date to Jimmy’s so you get shit now.”

  Jimmy’s Barbecue on Six Mile Road wasn’t a romantic restaurant, but the place was safe, clean, and served the greatest ribs known to man. He suspected the low-key atmosphere would be perfect for his date. No fancy decor. No pompous waiters.

  He walked to his closet and started adding daggers to various holsters strapped to his body. “Did you take care of that stuff we talked about?”

  “All done,” Kas said. A grin lit up his face. “Katie’s going to flip.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  During the last two weeks, Katie had rarely left his side. Despite her unease around cops, she had traveled with him to the precinct. Waiting for hours while he dealt with detectives, she never complained. A woman like that deserved to have things go her way for once.

  He patted his pants pocket. Then his jacket.

  “Heads up.” Kas tossed a black object.

  He caught the phone.

  “Still nothing on Abel,” Kas said.

  Cain clenched his jaw. The Bound had searched for his brother every day, combing through Detroit’s supernatural network of informants. The werewolves lost his scent after three days. Shifters of various species had confirmed no sightings. Even the vampire mobsters who dealt in the seediest parts of the city had found nothing, and those bastards would sell anything for enough cash and blood.

  Abel had vanished like a runner-up from American Idol.

  A deep cavern tore open in Cain’s chest. Dawn rose and dusk fell, but his thoughts always returned to his twin, both as a brother and a potential adversary. He shoved away the emptiness, focusing on the night ahead. Katie waited at her apartment. Dinner with a beautiful woman and good conversation was exactly what he needed.

  Kas crossed the bedroom and clasped his shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

  Cain forced a smile. Abel would only be found when he was good and ready. Since that hinged on some whacked-out Renegades plan involving the binding on the team’s Grace, his twin would stay a phantom.

  At some point, he’d need to analyze the fucked-up situation with Abel and find a solution that didn’t involve killing each other. For now, he had The Bound. And Katie.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Well, how does it look?” Raina asked over the phone. “As soon as I saw that design, I knew you’d look amazing wearing it.”

  Katie wrinkled her nose at her reflection and switched her cellphone to her other ear. Violet bloomed from the hemline of her ankle-length skirt and worked up in a faded gradient. A matching jacket stopped at the A-line waist, giving her a surprising hourglass shape. She peeked at the tips of the low-heeled dress shoes, secretly impressed.

  She scrunched her face. “Uh, I guess I clean up okay.”

  Tell that to her tomboy genes currently screaming that body snatchers had kidnapped her. She practiced walking in the restrictive material and tripped. Damn, she missed her cargo pants.

  A beep signaled in her ear. “One sec. Fraz is on the other line.” Raina clicked over.

  While Katie waited, she applied the lipstick her silly vamp friend insisted she use. The light pink color didn’t look half-bad paired with her newly dyed reddish-brown hair. Going back to her natural tone instead of the crimson was another Raina whim.

  “Holy shit,” Raina shrieked in her ear. “We’re in Flesh Fest.”

  Katie’s brain short-circuited. The music festival was in two days. She’d called the promoter last week and pulled Collapsed Star from the bill. “Say what?”

  The vampire kept up her high-pitched squeaks, followed by a round of, “Oh my God.”

  “If you don’t calm down, I’m gonna hang up.”

  “That was Sprocket and Frazzle,” Raina said. “They were at the warehouse working out the new song.”

  Katie readjusted the phone so she could pour a glass of water. “I heard some of it yesterday. Good riff.”

  “Anyway, some guy walked in an hour ago. Frazzle said he was a giant. Like mega-tall, and he had muscles sprouting from muscles.”

  Katie choked mid swallow. She cleared her throat with a couple of coughs. “What did he look like?”

  “Sprocket said he was a McHottie. Black hair down his back like a Native American. Silver eyes.” Raina made a purring sound. “If he’s single, you think he’d go for a bisexual werewolf, or a very sweet vampire?”

  Kas. Had to be him. Katie kicked her brain switch on. “Keep going.”

  “So, the guy asked where he could put the stuff he’d brought.” Raina let out a short squeak. “Hot guy opened the back of a Move Your Junk truck and unloaded speakers, drums, mics. He gave us brand new gear.”

  “Why would Kas—” Katie connected the missing piece. “Cain told him about the festival.”

  “The hot giant’s name is Kas?” A dreamy sigh escaped her friend. “You think your boyfriend can hook me up?”

  Katie covered her mouth and laughed. That beautiful blond softy. She’d only mentioned the festival in passing one day as they drove to the police precinct. Cain knew how much the festival meant to her and the band, but they didn’t have the best equipment for a large stadium show. Somehow, he’d worked a miracle.

  “Listen, I’ve gotta go and see our new stuff,” Raina said.

  Katie shook her head and the doorbell rang. She swung the front door open and stared into Cain’s tanned face. “Cain is here. I’ll put him on.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and accepted the phone. “Yes?”

  “You rock so hard!” Raina yelled so loudly he yanked the phone from his ear. “Thanks for everything. I need to jet. Have fun tonight.”

  Cain extended the phone to her, a broad smile on his lips. “I take it she approves of the gear.”

  Katie was speechless as she watched him. Her half angel was gorgeous in a gray dress shirt, black jacket and slacks. He’d begun letting his hair grow out. Soon it would shimmer like sunlight on water.

  She wrapped her fingers around his neck, tugging him within kissing range. She pressed her lips to his and melted against his firm body. Cain rubbed the curve of her back, swallowing her moan.

  “You didn’t have to buy all that stuff for the band.” She planted a peck on his neck. “They’ve never had brand-new equipment.” A slow lick behind his ear. “I can’t wait to show you my appreciation.”

  Cain chuckled, tightening his grip around her waist. “I like when you’re happy.”

  “You make me happy.” Katie meant every word.

  He leaned back, gazing into her eyes. She felt admired and appreciated. Cain touched the tip of her nose.

  “What?” Katie asked.

  “I never thought this would happen to me.” Cain dipped his head and kissed her softly. “You’re the best burglar in the world.”

  She grinned at him, her heart swelling. “I am?”

  “Yes. You’ve stolen my heart.”

  Epilogue

  Heavy boots pounded through the mansion, and Rahab glanced at the floor near the open door. Too soon, Mastema crossed into the conference room, the polished travertine tiles reflecting the Renegade leader’s imposing shadow. Along the perimeter, angels from the highest levels of the organization stood stiff-backed and uneasy.

  Mastema walked past each soldier, his contemptuous stare pinning one angel after another like a worthless bug. In turn, the Renegades cast their gazes to the floor, to the walls, to the backs of empty chairs. Rahab remained at attention, his arms were planks along his sides and his wings dipped in submission. The act was one of deference, not weakness.

  Mastema clamped a gloved hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Always loyal.”

  He flicked his gaze to his commander. They had suffered much together. Wives and children murdered. Homes destroyed. Legions of their brethren reduced to dust.
Rahab’s chest puffed out. “Unto death, should thou desire it.”

  An old oath. A sacred bond shared between all fallen angels.

  The Renegade leader snapped a nod and then strode to the room’s center. “Half of the cowering idiots on the Council for Supernatural Affairs live. Abel, the useless half-breed, is missing. Dravyn is dead.”

  Rahab clenched his jaw. The Nephilim’s disappearance and the elf’s untimely end did not bode well. The half-breed knew too much to remain free.

  “And The Bound Ones know I am expected in this city,” Mastema said in a booming voice. “Move forward with my plans. Do not fail again. Now, leave.”

  A murmur rose up as the dismissed soldiers flexed and fluttered their black wings. Rahab kept his expression neutral. There would be time later to remind his oldest friend not to agitate warriors with nothing to lose. The others exited, leaving him alone with their leader.

  Mastema’s chilly gaze settled on him. “These ill happenings are not a sign my trust in you is misplaced, correct?”

  Rahab broke his attentive stance and folded his arms. “I was against using Abel on this mission. That decision was yours.”

  “Remember to whom you speak.” Mastema’s tone was light, but his eyes flashed with power.

  As if he could ever forget. This was the angel who once carried out punishments for the God of All. Rahab bowed. “Forgive me.”

  A low chuckle. “Done. Now, what of your preparations?”

  Switching to business calmed Rahab’s cloudy mood. “Our spy in Heaven reported no changes. The missiles will be transported to the final location in the coming months. After the next council elections, we shall be ready to move forward.” He walked to the back of the conference room and retrieved a white envelope from the side bureau. “You requested these.”

  Mastema’s wings beat once, twice, but the angel did not move. Rahab had to concentrate on not cracking his jawbone. He walked the room’s distance and offered the envelope to his superior.

  “The next phase requires one of the half-breeds.” The Renegade leader withdrew a glossy photograph. “Jarrid.” He flicked his wrist. The image ignited, burned, and landed on the tiled floor as ash. “Too loyal to Tanis.”

  Rahab watched a second photo receive the same treatment.

  “Cain.” Mastema tsked his teeth, his head shaking. “His brother confirmed that bloodline is treacherous.”

  The last two pictures were scrutinized for several minutes. Rahab tilted his head, gazing at the faces of the remaining Nephilim. One half-breed was a key to breaking the Directorate’s power in Heaven. The other had the potential of an unstoppable weapon.

  “This one.” Mastema tapped an image and displayed a rare smile. “Make him ours, old friend.”

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  Acknowledgments

  Listing all the people who’ve made my writing career possible is futile. I could never give so many supporters the credit they’re due, so I’ve decided to bundle everyone into the following categories. If you recognize yourself, then know I was thinking about you.

  The Geek Empire coruled by my husband, Jon, and our son, Rowan. Everyday, they make me feel I’ve married the Tenth Doctor and gave birth to a Time Lord. No wife and mother could be happier.

  The Jamaican Posse, who’ve always been in my life, pushing me to excel, lifting me when I weakened. Mommy, Jimmy, Natalie, and Patrick, I love you.

  The British Invasion consisting of my incredibly supportive in-laws, Lawrence and Frances, and my sister-in-law, Katie and her son, Logan. Yes, Angel Kin’s heroine was based on a real person and she’s the greatest.

  The Geek Army, my very own legion of crazed nerds who spend a lot of time making me laugh and cheering me on. Whether I work with you, game with you, write with you, or went to school with you, I send you my deepest thanks.

  The Wise Wizards are the people who’ve shared their expertise over the course of this novel. Jodi Henley and Cathy Yardley for craft advice; Gil Thompson for law enforcement info; and authors Lisa Kessler, Traci Douglass, CJ Burright, and Celia Breslin for sanity checks.

  Finally, I come to The Dream Makers, also known as my literary agent, Laurie McLean, and my editors, Robin Haseltine, Liz Pelletier, and Candy Havens. Four women so amazing at what they do I’m surprised the universe hasn’t exploded from their collective awesomeness.

  About the Author

  Tricia Skinner writes urban fantasy with twist of passion. She’s a former journalist who discovered her inspiration to write fiction as an escape from “real life.” Her reading tastes include fantasy (and its subgenres), paranormal, sci-fi, and history. When she’s not writing, Tricia is a newbie “green” practitioner, fitness procrastinator, and a technology geek. Her family includes a patient husband, a demigod son, and two Great Danes. She’s active in several writing communities and enjoys interacting with readers. Visit her website at www.TriciaSkinner.com to find all her social media links.

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