Angel Slayer

by Michele Hauf

  “Uh-huh.” Blackthorn spat. His blood was bluish red. “We’ll see about that when the time comes. Ta.”

  The wall was bare, save the crushed stone where their bodies had hit. The psychopomp had vanished.

  “I won’t let her die,” Ashur growled. “I would die to protect her.”

  Chapter 16

  After a shower, Eden descended the stairs wearing a pink tank top and yoga pants. The afternoon sunlight hit the opposite side of the villa, rendering the kitchen cool and shadowed. It reminded her of quiet days she’d had to herself as her father would walk the vineyards with the field workers. They’d only vacationed here a couple times together, but she cherished those memories.

  She figured Ashur was around somewhere but she was too hungry to bother looking for him.

  She pulled a new pear out of the fridge since she hadn’t gotten to eat the one she’d cut earlier, and some hard white cheese. The wine cellar sported some old vintages, but she wasn’t inclined to go sort about in the cellar that gave her nightmares. Attribute that to her sixteenth summer here and spiders. Instead she’d have the bottled water or fruit juice she’d picked up at the grocery store on the way here.

  As she sat at the table and ate, she thought back on her hasty exit from the penthouse, and remembered colliding with the mailman. The package. She tugged it from her purse.

  “Another halo,” she said, recognizing the return address. “I wonder if Raphael knows about my collection?”

  She glanced upward, thinking she wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear a British voice agreeing he knew about her quest for halos. And how interesting it was that while she’d been searching—and dreaming—she’d been destined to collide with angels and demons all her life.

  Did other muses paint or draw angels obsessively? Search for halos? She’d like to meet another muse, ask her if she’d went a little crazy when she was younger, too.

  Tearing open the package, she shook the metal circle out onto the table. It flashed blue briefly, as if a flickering LED light.

  Eden dropped the pear slice. “I’ve never seen one do that before.”

  Tentatively she touched the cool metal. It felt like the others. Thin and a bit rinky-dink. “Like a 1950’s Hasbro toy,” her father had once commented. It looked like it could be easily bent, but Eden knew otherwise.

  It didn’t glow again, so she rapped it against the edge of the table.

  “Weird. I must have imagined it.”

  But now that she thought on it, it reminded her of the freaky blue circle around Zaqiel’s eye. He was the weirdest looking angel she had ever seen. Not that she had seen a lot in person…

  True, she painted them more bizarre than Zaqiel’s appearance. But seriously, Zaqiel had been covered in tattoos that had appeared more burned into his flesh than inked. Numerous piercings dangled from all parts of his body, and his shocking hair had been whiter than snow. He’d fit right in with the punk crowd or a Goth crew, but not heaven.

  “I see you have another for your collection.”

  Eden looked up as Ashur walked into the room. His entrance didn’t surprise her. She was just relieved he was here now. She pushed the plate of cut fruit and cheese toward him as he seated himself across the table. “Hungry?”

  “A little.” He sampled the fare. “When is taco night?”

  “We can do it tonight if you like. I bought avocados for guacamole, too.”

  “I love guacamole.”

  The utterly normal comment struck Eden. He smiled at her with a little-boy grin. He loved guacamole and touching things, and—well, not her, which was exactly how she had to keep it. She had taken Raphael’s warning to heart.

  Or was she fooling herself? When was the last time she’d admired a man’s sexy smile after he’d confessed a passion for guacamole?

  Oh, Eden, watch it. You want something that scares you.

  He pointed at the halo. “Where did that one come from?”

  She turned over the envelope to display the address. “Turkey. Cost me fifty thousand because the woman knew what she had. This one glows.”

  He lifted a brow, midbite. “Glows?”

  “Just like the blue sigil around Zaqiel’s eye. You think maybe it was his halo?”

  Ashur sat back in the chair, as if to distance himself from the halo, yet he eyed it keenly. “I don’t know much about angels and their halos, beyond that it holds their earthbound soul, and not a Fallen walking the earth would want it back.”

  “Why not? I would think a soul would be the greatest prize.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “What makes you think Zaqiel doesn’t want a human soul? Just because you won’t take one after you slay an angel doesn’t mean the Fallen might not kill for his own human soul.”

  “When the rewards of walking the earth with divine powers are so much greater? Think about it, Six. No angel is going to sacrifice such omniscient immortality.”

  “What about when all the muses have been found and have given birth to the nephilim?”

  “I don’t know. I only—”

  “—know what you’ve been sent to do,” she finished for him. “It’s a good excuse not to become involved, I guess.”

  “You accuse me of undertaking the task I was forged to do.”

  Eden sighed. “And it’s a heroic task. I just wish…” No, she didn’t wish. Well, she did, but it was wrong to do so, so she’d keep that one close to her heart. Which was where it resided anyway.

  He nodded at the halo. “They can be used as weapons, but only by the original owner. If it should fall into the angel’s hands who once wore it, then look out. He could do deadly things with that innocuous-looking circle of metal.”

  “Cool.” Eden never imagined it could be utilized as a weapon. Somehow the halo should be a perfect conductor of all that was good and right. Made of gold and emanating pure love, or some such. Of course in her dreams it appeared in rainbows of color, different to each angel. “Would it harm you?”

  “If wielded by the owner? It could kill me, I’m sure.”

  “Is that the only thing that can kill you? You said only your knife and some poison could take out an angel. Is it the same with demons?”

  “A halo could strike my head from this body, and yes, I’d be finished.” He narrowed a look at her. “You’re not getting any ideas, are you?”

  “To kill you? Heck no, you’re my protector.”

  She hoped. When Ashur had left on his errand she’d felt so desperately alone and yes, a little frightened. She wanted him to stay by her side always. And how needy was that?

  Get over it and grow a pair, she inwardly admonished. You don’t need a man in your life.

  Yes, but a need was different from a want. And she wanted…so many things.

  “This doesn’t belong to me,” she added, “so it probably wouldn’t serve me— Whoa! Did you see that? It glowed again.”

  “I did.” Ashur grabbed another pear slice, but didn’t make a move to touch the halo. “You’ve never before had one that glows? Perhaps it senses you are a muse.”

  “No, never one that glows. But do you think if this halo belongs to the angel that’s after me…?”

  “You’re not Zaqiel’s match. The blue circle around his eye is his sigil.”

  “So that means he’s already raped one muse, and now he’s after me.”

  She grabbed the halo and held it against her chest, feeling the subtle calming effect. If this had belonged to an angel who wanted to rape her, she couldn’t make the connection with the hopeful feeling it gave her.

  “Can we talk about what happened in bed this morning and then here in the kitchen?” Ashur asked.

  “Seriously? You want to talk? Like discuss feelings and all that? Wow, you are not the average man.”

  “No, I am not. In fact, I have no human moral code. In the demon realm, to master the seven deadly mortal sins is a matter of pride. And I have mastered them all.”

  “Even murder? Ra
phael told me—”

  “Raphael?” He lifted a brow, but didn’t admonish as Eden expected. “Killing an angel would be considered murder, yes.”

  “He said you’d killed more than angels.”

  “Hmm…possible. You need to know I’d forgotten all that after I was sent Beneath. But you are stirring up memories. Especially of lust.”

  “Lust is not as sinful as it sounds.” She leaned forward, eyeing him through her lashes. “Is that why you were flinching when we were making out? You were remembering?”

  “Yes, the pain of torture.”

  “Was it bad? Can you tell me about it?”

  Propping his elbows on the table, he shrugged his fingers through his hair, bowing his head and shaking it. When he looked up, his eyes were dull. “All things worldly and mortal were tortured out of me—including lust. I bore the sting of a bladed whip for hundreds of years.”

  “That’s horrible to imagine. And you remember that torture now? I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. The torture was just. I can survive anything. Except….”

  “Except?”

  He stood and shrugged a hand through his hair. “Right. This talking stuff is a little overboard. So what did Raphael have to say?”

  She didn’t want to look up, but she did, and he’d mastered the admonishing expression well.

  “I expected you would contact him,” he tossed out.

  “You didn’t trust me?”

  “Trust isn’t necessary to complete my task. I don’t need to know what you and the angel talked about.”

  “Then I won’t tell you.”

  “Fine. Obviously he mentioned my penchant for sin. You already know about that.”

  She got up and cleared the dishes into the sink. He’d murdered others. That was troubling. But surely he’d had a good reason, like self-defense.

  “I need to focus on tracking Zaqiel or you’ll be running forever.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll give up when I’m dead. I thought you were out tracking him earlier?”

  “I was sidetracked. I sensed a muse was being attempted by a Fallen one. I arrived just in time.”

  “You slayed an angel while you were gone?”

  He nodded. “It is what I do.”

  “I know, but you mention it as if it was an errand your boss sent you to run.”

  “It was.”

  “Right. So…the woman is safe?”

  “Traumatized, but sleeping it off.”

  “And the angel?”

  “Dust. I claimed the feather and stole the souls.”

  “The feather?”

  He produced a copper feather from the dagger sheath behind his hip. “All that remains of the angel following death. I put them in my crown as a warning to the Fallen. And it is a prideful show, as well.”

  “Can I see?”

  He handed it to her. It wasn’t what she had expected. It was as if carved from fine copper wire, yet soft and pliant as a downy feather when she ran her fingers over it. “This is beautiful.” She handed it to him. “Your battle prize. I’ve never dreamed feathers on angels.”

  “They don’t have feathers. Save when they perish. I assume it is sort of like their divinity, abandoned amidst the fallen angel dust.”

  “That’s very poetic. You said you steal souls from the angel?” Head bowed, she tapped the table. “To be truthful, that disgusts me.”

  “What? Me doing what my nature demands?”

  “Raphael said you don’t have to take the souls. You could set them free. Let them go to heaven.”

  “Or Beneath.”

  “Yes. He also said you could claim your own mortal soul if you simply asked for it.”

  “I thought you didn’t intend to tell me what you two had discussed. You had quite the chat, it sounds.”

  Eden sighed and walked up beside him. She wanted to touch him, place her fingers on his shoulder, but he was too distant right now. Too much the myth and not enough a mere man. Like the figures she painted, he seemed untouchable and alien.

  “Does it make you happy? Stealing souls?”

  “Happiness is not something I strive for. It is my right to take a prize for a task completed, no matter how painful that reward might be.”

  “It’s painful? You get off on torture?”

  “I…” He looked aside. He’d obviously never thought about such a thing.

  She obviously didn’t understand the whole demon thing, and was asking all the wrong questions. They were different, as much as she wished they were the same.

  Yeah, no problem avoiding the love thing with this guy.

  “How come I’m the chosen one? A muse?” she asked. “If the Fallen have been away or imprisoned for centuries, then how is it I was born with this mark at this particular time? How could the universe know someone would conjure the angels now?”

  “You are of Merovingian descent.”

  “How do you know that? I don’t even— Weren’t they French kings?”

  “It is what is known. All the women in your family, for ages, have worn the sigil. It only becomes evident, actually seeable, when the prophecy will become real.”

  “So two hundred women are walking around the world today with weird birthmarks? And they’re all targeted by angels intent on getting them pregnant?”

  “Close. Two hundred angels fell in biblical times. I, along with my Sinistari brethren, were able to slay forty-seven.”

  “That leaves…” She did the math in her head. “One hundred fifty-three angels remaining.”

  “Something like that. I believe the numbers are not accurate. There are fewer angels than you count, but I don’t know why.”

  “With fewer angels than women, some of those women will luck out?”

  “No. As I’ve said, once the angel has completed his task with his muse, he can go on to another muse. It can cause chaos within the Fallen ranks.”

  “I don’t think I like those rules. So, what’s the plan? You going to lock me up and leave me alone as angel bait while you go out searching?”

  “I want to ward your home. There are sigils I can put up that will keep most angels out.”

  “Most?”

  “The most determined can defeat anything.” He tugged a small gold cross from the inside of his leather jacket and laid it on the table.

  “You stole that.”

  “If you already know, then why state it?” She saw no guilt in his expression.

  Eden looked away. “I hate this.”

  “Have some faith.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to play the faith card on me? You? A demon? What about your faith?”

  “I am beyond the reach of faith. But that doesn’t mean I cannot utilize it to affect the actions of others.” He tapped the cross. “I’ll need this to draw the wards. But Zaqiel displayed some unusual munificence in that he didn’t immediately attempt you in your home yesterday. He actually gave me a choice.”

  “He’s taunting you. Playing.”

  “Yes, and I’ve never encountered one who has before.”

  “He sensed you cared what happened to me.”

  He pierced her with a glare, but Eden knew he understood what she meant. “Dude, you like me, admit it.”

  He evaded the question. “Zaqiel is dangerous.”

  “Aren’t they all?”

  Eden touched her neck. It was beginning to burn, but she cautioned herself from asking for the easy fix, because she didn’t want to push Ashur toward something that would cause him pain again. And after Raphael’s warning, she seriously didn’t want him falling in love with her.

  As if.

  Eden, you think you’re so special? He was merely lusting after you. He’s a male. It’s what they do.

  “I can ease your discomfort,” he offered.

  “No.” She gripped the halo. “There’s an old bottle of calamine lotion in the bathroom. I’ll try that.”

  “I noticed limestone spread around the base
of the vines earlier. I can use it for the warding. Go get me some before you run upstairs.”

  “Just like that? You snap your fingers, and I react?”

  He leveled the malevolent glare on her again, and Eden felt the prickle of his anger at the back of her neck. Do not make the demon mad. “Will do.”

  Eden headed out to the vines with a basket and collected some limestone, as directed.

  Back in the house, Ashur was preparing to ward it. Whatever that meant. He’d said he wanted her out of the house while he smudged it clean.

  She swatted at a fly and tugged up the spaghetti strap of her tank top. Sitting on a mound of grass near the edge of the vineyard, her legs splayed, she’d forgotten how good it felt to get away from the busy rush of the city and breathe in the clean, country air.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the rich scents of leaves, earth and the dusty limestone.

  She felt glad she hadn’t let her past bring her down, particularly the episode with Chris, her ex-fiancé. A man who had controlled her, and when he could no longer, had dumped her like yesterday’s trash.

  Losing the baby still hurt. So much. But Chris’s exit from her life had actually made her see things more clearly.

  She did not need a man to feel complete or loved. When the right man came along he would be her friend and lover, but neither would require the other for happiness.

  If a woman couldn’t walk through the world by herself, take care of herself, stand without the assistance of a man to back her up, then she hadn’t reached the point in her life where she was truly ready for a relationship.

  Eden was ready now. Or at least, she was ready to enjoy herself with a man. She didn’t need love. She simply required acknowledgment, and some hot sex.

  For years she’d applied the means that love meant money. Her father, never home, had given her material things to appease her aching need for his presence. So she’d grown up believing men showed their love with gifts.

  “So not true,” she said and chuckled. “You’re learning, Eden. Slowly but surely.”

  She tossed a few more limestone pebbles into the basket and stood with it looped over her arm.

  Ashur had been tortured? And kissing and touching her brought those memories back to him. How messed up was that?