Immortal

by ML Guida

  Great, only his finest competition. Wonderful. Biting back another retort, Scythe waited.

  “I grew weary of this plan of yours. Your brother has more than tested my patience.”

  Scythe tensed. “But…”

  “Do you want me to rip out your biting tongue?” Michael grew in size, his mountain shadow falling across Scythe and the lawn as if a sky scrapper had just shot out of the ground. Mattie whimpered.

  Scythe wisely shook his head.

  The head angel’s shadow diminished. He held out his hand. Scythe had no choice but to grab it. Electricity shot up his arm and he winced. He lifted his chin to gaze at Michael’s grim face.

  “You have until tonight to save your brother. If you fail, I will personally hand him over to Balthazar, and it will be open season on him.”

  “You—”

  Michael held up his hand. “Don’t piss me off.” He snapped his fingers.

  A bolt of light propelled from the sun and hit Scythe in the middle of his chest, knocking him onto the ground. He arched his back as power surged through him.

  “Now fix this mess.” Michael disappeared into a blinding light.

  Scythe shielded his eyes. “Show off.” He took a deep breath to chase away the terror crouching inside him. “Zeus, that sucked.”

  A bark grabbed his attention. Mattie hid under a Volkswagen bug.

  He patted the ground. “Come here, girl.”

  Mattie crept under the car. She hesitated, but then he whistled. She trotted across the lawn and lay down, putting her chin on his thigh. “Hey, girl. You were the smart one. Where’s your owner?”

  Inhaling, he closed his eyes. “Shit, when is she not in trouble?”

  Mattie looked at him with her big brown eyes. He chuckled.

  “Well, at least, Michael gave me back my powers. Thank God for small graces.”

  Pushing the memory of hell to the back of his mind, he petted her soft fur and sighed. “Your mom will be pissed if I don’t take care of you first.”

  Lifting her head, Mattie wagged her short little tail. He snapped his fingers. Mattie and he appeared in Heather’s backyard. The dog trotted over to a dish full of her favorite dog food next to a bowl full of water. A long brown pig skin chew toy was on the deck. “That ought to keep you busy why I bust your mom out of jail.”

  Scythe snapped his fingers, then manifested inside a crowded cell.

  A tired looking blond woman jumped back. “Oh, my God! Who are you?”

  When would humans realize that calling His name in vain never ended well?

  “Who cares?” A black prostitute wearing too-short red shorts and a gold halter top sauntered over to him. She cupped his ass. The smell of noxiously sweet rose perfume assailed Scythe’s nostrils. “You’re a fine one.” She jerked her hand off him as if burned. “What the hell?”

  Her eyes widened and her face turned ashen. Her seductiveness vanished and she slowly sat on the floor, resting her head in her palms. “What I have done?”

  Scythe walked to her. “I’ve seen your life. You have a choice. Stop what you’re doing or if not, you’re doomed.”

  The woman half sobbed. “It’s too late.”

  Scythe knelt. He put his hand on her trembling shoulder. “No, you’re wrong.”

  She lifted her head and her lower lip trembled. “I-I-I’m afraid.”

  “Pray. It will give you strength.”

  “Scythe?”

  Heather’s soft scent flooded him with joy. It was so good to hear her sweet voice. She walked past the blonde who eyed him warily. He forced himself to stay where he was. It would be just like his brother to attack if he was to lose himself in her womanly secrets.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been here all night. Did you save Susan?”

  He winced. “Not exactly.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Not exactly meaning?”

  He snatched her hand that sent waves of desire through him. “We’re out of here.”

  A light flashed. Heather fell into him, and he slammed into a green trash bin. Pain hit his shoulder.

  Heather wiped her hand across her sweating forehead. “Wh-where are we?”

  The smell of coffee mixed with a foul stench drifted around them. Scythe took a big whiff. “Right behind the coffee shop.”

  “Why are we here? What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock in the morning.”

  Her brows wrinkled, but then her face brightened. “Susan’s inside, isn’t she? Come on, let’s go.” She darted around the building. “Susan, thank God.”

  “Shit,” Scythe mumbled.

  He ran, but Blade materialized in front of him, blocking his way. “Hello, dear brother. Going somewhere?” The smugness in his voice made the hair on Scythe’s arm stand straight up.

  Scythe stepped closer and gritted his teeth. “Get out of my way.”

  “I don’t think so. We have unfinished business.” Blade yanked out a hellish blade.

  Scythe glared at the sword. Zeus, he hated those damn things. He opened his palm and his heaven blade appeared in his hand. “Now, we’re even.”

  “Come with me. We’ve got to get out of here before he comes back,” a female voice said.

  “But wait, I’ve got to get Scythe,” Heather said.

  Scythe tensed. From the hesitation in her voice, something was wrong. What the hell happened?

  He swiped his dagger. “Out of my way, Blade.”

  “You’ll never get to her in time, brother.” Blade gave him a deadly smile. “Susan knows what to do.”

  Scythe sucked in his gut and warning tingles swished all over him. Shit, why did Heather refuse to stay with him? “You don’t understand, brother. You only have until midnight until Michael declares all-out war on you.”

  “You think I give a shit?” A look of pure hatred passed over Blade’s face. “I’ve switched teams. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Susan, what are you doing?” Terror rang in Heather’s high-pitched voice.

  Over his shoulder, Blade yelled, “Now.”

  A red light flashed. Blade vanished. Scythe sprinted around the building. He skidded in front of the glass windows and peered inside the shop. Men and women sat at a table drinking coffee and chatting, or stood in line waiting to order their favorite concoctions. His heart twisted, and he clutched the knife tighter. Dread hit him. Heather had vanished.

  Slow steady footsteps came up behind him. With a smug look on his face, Blade twirled the knife in his hand. “You’ll never find her.”

  For the first time, Scythe wanted to kill his brother. “Where the hell is she?”

  Blade shrugged. “Where I want her.”

  “Tell me, or I’ll cut out your black heart.”

  Blade laughed. “Ah, yes. Such a brotherly concern. Where’s that determination of yours trying to save me? Gone. Right out the window.”

  Scythe winced. He was letting his emotions control him, runaway emotions that could get him and Heather killed. He drew on his reserves like Michael taught him. “Don’t do this.”

  “Why?” Blade glared. “Will I be damned? Little late for that, don’t you think.” He walked closer. “I’ll tell you what, you defeat me, and I’ll tell you where she is.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You can visit her in hell.”

  Scythe’s blood dropped to an ice age cold. His brother’s cool manner and deadly voice left little doubt he meant what he said. “Is that where she is? In hell?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? You can flash out brother, but I’ve covered my tracks. You of all people should know that. You were a great teacher.”

  “You made your point.”

  “Thought you would see it my way.”

  “Oh my God,” a woman screamed.

  Scythe glanced over his shoulder.

  A teenage girl dropped her frozen chocolate drink on the pavement. “They’ve got swords.”

  “Not here.” Blade snapped his fingers.

&nb
sp; A cold swish whirled around Scythe. Spinning colors blinded his vision. He stumbled and gasped. The noisy coffee shop had vanished. Instead of the aroma of coffee, he inhaled sweet pine and grass. Tall mountains replaced high-rising buildings. The wind blew the tops of pines and aspens. He stood in a meadow somewhere in the mountains.

  Blade was a few feet from him. “Like you, I don’t want any more interruptions.”

  Scythe stood with his legs shoulder width apart, his weight on his back leg. “Then let’s do it.” He gripped the handle between his thumb and forefinger while his other fingers loosely held the handle. He pointed the tip at Blade. Not waiting for him to answer, he lunged and jabbed his sword, narrowly missing Blade’s knife wielding hand.

  Blade dodged right and gripped the handle as if he were holding a hammer. He swiped his blade.

  Scythe scooted left. The swish of the blade narrowly missing his upper thigh, making his stomach tighten. “Getting serious, brother.”

  “I want you dead.”

  Scythe circled him, holding his free hand in close to his midsection. “I can see that.”

  Blade did the same.

  Loss engulfed Scythe. Like Cain, his brother wanted to cut out his liver. How the hell did this happen? He and Blade had been a team—fighting demons side by side, playing tricks on each other, jumping into missions together—but now... “This doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “You had the chance to save Samantha and did nothing.” Blade thrust the knife and nicked his jacket, the blade slicing his arm. “Michael’s right-hand man.”

  Pain seared into Scythe skin, but he drew on his dark angel training that taught him to shove the agony to the back of his mind.. “Thanks to you, Saber’s got the job.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Blade’s sarcasm hurt more than the damn blade. Scythe didn’t even know him anymore. Minutes ticked away. Michael would rip him apart, and no help from heaven or hell could resurrect Blade again. Twinges of pain ran up his arm like thousands of biting tiny insects. Shit, hellish poison.

  A triumphant look crossed over Blade’s face. “Growing weaker, brother.”

  Scythe lowered his blade. He saw his opening. He swung his blade and this time; he struck gold, slashing Blade’s hand.

  His brother staggered and screamed. Blood gushed, staining the pine needles and purple columbines. Panting, Blade clutched his shaking hand. “You’re dead.”

  Regret beat into Scythe’s soul. Zeus, he hadn’t wanted to wound his brother. The last time someone hurt him, he cleaved the demon’s head off his shoulders. In a low voice, he whispered, “Brother, I’m sorry.”

  The ground rumbled and dirt, pine needles, and trees sank into a massive hole. Fire erupted. Balthazar flew out of the breach, wielding a sword in his hand. As his feet touched the terrain, the hole filled up, but the columbine flowers withered, the pine needles blackened, and the long grass turned brown and died.

  Scythe gripped his handle tighter. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Balthazar glanced at Blade’s bleeding hand. “I don’t like to lose. I protect what’s mine.” He waved his hand. A red flash hit Blade, and he faded.

  Chapter 16

  Heather lifted her head and cringed. Her eyes blurred, her head throbbed and her stomach was trying to do a gymnast’s spiral somersault. God, had she slammed down a half dozen shots of gin? Where the hell was she? Did she smell pine?

  She moved her wrists and ankles, but something bounded them. Metal? What handcuffs? “What the…”

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  She recognized the familiar voice. “Susan?”

  “In the flesh.” Susan sat in a brown leather chair across from her with her right leg crossed over her left. She twirled her right foot. Wearing her power red suit, she looked perfect as always with her long blond hair, big brown eyes and manicured red nails, but something changed. Red glints flickered in her eyes. Shivers ran through Heather. Susan’s aura no longer shimmered with red and yellow that marked her passion with law. Now, it was a solid black. Shit, not good.

  Swallowing her panic, Heather scanned her surroundings. The setting sun shined through the windows and cast shadows on the knotted light-stained pine walls. Discarded magazines and half-burned candles cluttered a coffee table. Two red lamps sat on matching end tables. Behind the leather couch, there was a dining room set with white cushioned chairs. One chair was missing. She looked at Susan. “We’re at your cabin.”

  “That’s right, genius.”

  Heather stared out the large picturesque window and wished she was walking among the trail winding around the pine and aspen trees and purple and white columbines and blue bells. She and Susan had hiked the mountain many times and returned to barbecue. Hamburgers or chicken grilling on the gas barbecue mixed with fresh clean mountain smells. On the deck, they had sat in the white-painted cottage wooden chairs and sipped wine. She knew this wasn’t happening.

  Heather wiggled her wrists and ankles, but she only scratched her skin. “Why am I tied up?”

  “Because he didn’t want you to escape this time.”

  “He? You mean Blade.” Heather’s racing heart slammed around her ribs like a ping-pong ball. “Where is he?”

  “Killing your lover.”

  Anger chased away her fear. “What?”

  Susan gave her a surly smile. “I don’t think I stuttered, did I? Or are you plain dumb?”

  “No!” Sweat dripped down Heather’s face. She wrenched against the rope binding her ankles and wrists. It cut into her flesh, but she didn’t care. She had to escape. She couldn’t lose him. Not like Rosemary.

  Susan laughed manically.

  Heather’s bones rattled. Trying to contain her growing terror, Heather studied her. “He gave you the drug, didn’t he?”

  Susan shrugged. “At first, I didn’t want to take it, but he, uh, persuaded me.” A lustful look came over her. “I couldn’t say no.”

  Heather hoped to find one sliver of her old friend, but Susan’s beautiful hazel eyes burned red. Susan stared at her with pure hatred. “But this isn’t like you.”

  Susan walked across the floor, her heels clicking on the hardwood. She pinched Heather’s cheek hard. “Get used to the new me.”

  Heather jerked her head away. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Nothing.” She walked to the counter and leaned over a dish. She put a finger to her nostril and inhaled a black powder dust.

  “Susan, no!”

  Susan snorted again. Heather’s heart broke, and she blinked back tears. A well of hatred rose in her. Damn Blade! This had to stop. She pulled and yanked on her wrists, but the rope cut deeper. Pain sliced into her flesh and her hands tingled. Great, now what?

  Susan flung her head back and stretched her arms wide. “You have no idea the power within me. I could fly.”

  A wild, crazed look flashed in her burning red eyes. “I think I’ll pour myself a glass of wine. I’d offer you one, but…” She half smiled. “You know.”

  Susan sauntered over to her maple wine butler and took out a crystal stemmed wine glass and pulled out a bottle of Chianti. She popped open the bottle and poured the red liquid into her glass.

  Heather inhaled the fruity sent of cherry and nuts.

  Mallets of pain walloped each side of Heather’s temple. Her mouth watered as her stomach revolted at the smell. What was wrong with her? Chianti was her favorite wine.

  Susan laughed. “Sit tight, girl.”

  Ignoring her fear, Heather whispered, “What’s he going to do?”

  Susan took a sip and walked over to the patio door. “Watch.”

  Chills slid over Heather’s sweating body. “Watch what?”

  Susan turned and flashed her eyes over her, studying her. A predatory grin spread across her lips. “Watch me kill you, of course.”

  Heather gasped. “The bastard! Doesn’t he even have the guts to kill me himself?”

  Susan slammed her glass on the ta
ble, splashing red splatters onto the wood. She stormed over and slapped her.

  Heather’s head swung to the right and wrenched her neck. Her cheek and neck throbbed. Blood swirled in her mouth.

  Susan grabbed her hair and yanked. “Don’t you ever talk about him like that again! Got it!”

  Heather spit out blood. “You know where they are, don’t you? Tell me now.”

  “Or what?” She tightened her grip.

  Susan tore strands of Heather’s hair out by the root. Heather bit back a yell.

  “As if you can do anything. Scythe will die and you’ll soon follow.” The hate in Susan’s low voice made Heather shiver and her heart twist.

  Beads of sweat broke out across Heather’s forehead.“Blade can’t kill him. Scythe’s a dark angel.” Despite her fear, pride echoed in her voice. She had faith in her fierce warrior.

  Susan whispered in her ear. “Oh, believe me, he can.” She released her.

  Heather panted hard. “You can’t kill me now, can you?”

  Susan dragged her long nails down Heather’s arm. “No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t toy with you.”

  Heather winced.

  Susan stormed into the kitchen and whipped opened a kitchen drawer. She pulled out a big, scary kitchen knife. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Now, how about I cut off all that beautiful mane of yours?” She meandered. “I’ve always been jealous. It’s so thick, so long, so silky.”

  Heather trembled.

  Susan pressed the level blade underneath her chin. “You say another smart word and I swear to God, I’ll saw it off. Do you understand me, bitch?”

  “Yes,” Heather murmured.

  “Good.” Susan lowered the blade. “Now, I’m going outside and drink my wine that you made me spill on my table.” Susan laid the knife on the coffee table and walked away like she didn’t have a care in the world. She was no longer the friend Heather loved and trusted.

  She picked up her glass of wine, swirled the red contents, and opened the patio door. “I better not hear another word from you.”

  Eyeing the knife on the coffee table, Heather bit her lip. She had to escape and find Scythe.