Angel Slayer

by Michele Hauf

Ashur wasn’t your standard guy who could do odd jobs around the house, grill a burger and tinker with the car engine. Though after he’d walked the world to gain knowledge, he probably possessed those skills and more, Eden figured.

  She needed to imagine him bent over the engine of her car, his jeans slipping low on his hips and a smudge of grease on his cheek. That picture fit into her idea of normal.

  Okay, so normal for her was handing the driver the keys and sending him off to the shop to fix whatever was wrong with the vehicle, then signing the credit-card statement a month later.

  All her life she’d never wished for more or less. Her father, while distant, had managed to keep her grounded. She didn’t need fancy balls, though she did like to attend charity events. She didn’t require bling or sports cars or a fifty-thousand-dollar platinum cell phone.

  All she needed was someone with whom she could share her life. Someone normal. Someone who would not abandon her. Was that asking too much?

  A bang toward the front of the house made Eden stand up and listen. Must have been the wind. It gushed across the lavender fields today, filling the house with the scent. Eden recognized the creak that followed.

  The front door. He was back.

  She skipped down the hallway and into the kitchen only to find it was not Ashur poking his head through the door, but a stranger—who had opened the door.

  “Stop! Don’t open the door!”

  Her cry only succeeded in prompting him to step inside and quickly close the door behind him.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” He removed the black fedora from his head and nodded. “It wasn’t locked and no one answered after I’d knocked a few times.”

  “So you just…” Eden touched the door, running her fingers over the wood and trying to determine if the ward was still activated. She couldn’t sense it even if it was, but going through the motion stilled her raging need to beat him over the head.

  Remembering a stranger stood behind her, she swung about, pressing her shoulders to the door. “Who are you? Did Mr. Cantello send you for the wine bottles?”

  “I’m Michael Donovan.” He offered a hand to shake, but she remained pinned to the door. Why had she decided to leave her little blade behind?

  “What do you want?”

  “I believe you and I have a common interest we should discuss.”

  “How did you find me here? Have we spoken online?”

  She pressed a hand to the door. If he opened it to leave would the wards be further damaged? Would the signal to Zaqiel grow stronger? No, the signal was not activated as long as she didn’t itch. The scarf around her neck protected the itch, but she felt it tingle now.

  “My boyfriend is on his way,” she said, hoping to make him leery, or flat out leave. “He’ll be here any minute.”

  “I’m not going to harm you, Miss Campbell. And I apologize for walking in like that. It was rude. Please, relax.”

  “Yes, well, you can’t imagine what harm you have done merely by opening my door.”

  “Is that so?” He tilted his head to study her. He was attractive and had narrow blue eyes, short dark hair and a scar at the corner of his eye. A kind face that she’d normally smile at if passing him in the street. Did she know him? “Tell me what I’ve done.”

  “Even if I could explain the intricacies, you wouldn’t understand.” She crossed her arms and paced toward the table. “By opening that door, you’ve broken wards meant to keep me safe.”

  “From the vampires?”

  She turned swiftly, meeting his worried gaze. “Vampires? What in the world…”

  He winced at her reaction. “So you don’t know about them. Sorry. Didn’t mean to toss that one out there. What else would you need protection from?”

  “I still don’t know who you are, and I’m worried a crazy man is in my house.”

  “I’m a halo hunter, Miss Campbell. I’ve come from your penthouse in Manhattan, and—”

  “You were at my home?” She backed toward the counter where the knife rack sat. “Halo hunter?”

  “I’ve been tracking you online for a few months. You buy halos, yes?”

  “And what does a halo hunter do?” She didn’t want to give him any information he might already know. “Were you in my house?”

  “The construction crew was repairing a window. I admit I did slip in for a bit.”

  Turning and grabbing the only knife left in the wood block, she was disheartened when it turned out to be a small paring knife with only a three-inch blade.

  “You don’t need that.” Donovan put up his hands in placation. “I said I’m not here to hurt you. I want to talk. We’re on the same side, I promise you.”

  “Yeah?” She wielded the knife, point out, not about to drop the small piece of security. “What side is that?”

  “The one opposite the vampires.”

  “I don’t know how vampires play into all this. I think you’re in the wrong movie, mister.” Out of her peripheral vision she thought she saw the door open, and her eyes flew toward it. But the door remained closed.

  “They’re after the halos,” her unwelcome visitor explained. “To lure the Fallen, and ultimately see them get a muse pregnant and give birth to a nephilim.”

  Eden dropped the hand she held the knife in to her side. Wow. He knew everything. But vampires? Ashur hadn’t mentioned bloodsuckers were a part of the deal.

  “You follow what I’m saying,” he said. “I can tell by the fact that you’re not calling the police and haven’t tried to throw that little knife at me.”

  She set the paring knife on the counter. It could do little harm, and really, if she tried to attack him he could take it from her and turn the attack on her. “Fallen angels and nephilim I get. Vampires are new to me.”

  “Yeah, well, they were new to me only a few months ago. Now they seem to turn up everywhere I go. I confess I took the halos from your office. It was necessary,” he said quickly as she started to protest. “The vampires are tracking them. I promise I will return them to you after…well, whatever the hell this is, is all over.”

  “You stole my…” He’d been in her home, had touched her things and had taken the halos, which meant so much to her. “I think you need to leave.”

  “That’s another one.” Ignoring her plea, he noted the halo stuck in the wall and approached it.

  “Don’t touch it!”

  The halo glowed blue. Donovan retracted from his attempt to touch. He shot a wondrous look at her. “I’ve never seen one do that before.”

  The front door slammed inward, and Ashur’s imposing dark figure filled the doorway. He took one look at Michael Donovan and crossed the room and slammed him against the wall.

  Chapter 25

  Zaqiel was crossing the street before the city’s center fountain when the black SUV peeled around the corner and hit him. His body, though fashioned of metal and glass, was ultralight. He soared through the air and landed at the cement base of the fountain, which was forty feet in diameter. Cold water spit on his head.

  The SUV stopped and out jumped a man in jeans and leather jacket. He rushed toward Zaqiel. “Dude, are you okay?” He knelt by Zaqiel and inspected him. “You look fine.” He gripped Zaqiel’s hair and smashed the back of his head against the stone fountain steps. “You feel fine? Yeah? I thought so. You angels are as hardheaded as they come.”

  Shaking off the bells jangling in his head, Zaqiel went for the man’s throat, but a knee jammed him up under his chin, effectively pinning him.

  “Ah, you’re not going anywhere until we talk, you fallen piece of crap.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  The man smiled, revealing vamp fangs. “Name’s Bruce. Not so pleased to meet you, Zaq. I’ve been tracking you for the days you’ve been on earth. You’re not doing so hot, are you? Should have banged that muse days ago. What’s the problem? Sinistari scare you away?”

  Forcing the vampire from him with a sweep of his will, Zaqiel jumped to his feet and
flashed to meet the flying vamp as he crashed against the side of his car. He gripped the vampire’s throat. The vamp reciprocated.

  “We can go at each other all day,” Bruce said through the pinch on his throat. “You can’t kill me without a stake, and I can’t kill you—”

  “At all,” Zaqiel finished for him. “You want the hurt I can give you, bloodsucker?”

  A fist smashed his nose. Zaqiel swallowed his own blood; it tasted like hot molasses. He returned a punch to the vamp’s gut. The fang-face smiled and shook it off, bouncing on his feet and gesturing for another brutal fist.

  “Come on! You want to do this? I welcome it.”

  “Why are you so concerned for what I do?” Zaqiel asked. “Why are you following me?”

  “It’s my job. I’m the head angel rustler, you might say. Hey, check this.” The vampire twisted and swung up his leg, clocking Zaqiel in the face.

  Zaqiel wavered, but didn’t fall. In human form he wasn’t as strong and couldn’t spring back from attack as quickly as in his natural form. But he couldn’t change here in the plaza where a crowd had begun to linger and observe their interaction. Hell, he could only change halfway anyway.

  Zaqiel grabbed the gold chain from around the vampire’s neck and ripped it off. “A cross?”

  “I’m not baptized,” the vampire confirmed with a sneer. He slammed the gold cross against Zaqiel’s forehead. “What about you? This do anything for you?”

  Snarling, Zaqiel shoved the insipid vampire from him and stalked a few paces away. “It is but a symbol. It means nothing to me. What do you want from me? I tire of your infantile bully tactics.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s time I cut to the point.” Another fist to his jaw sent Zaqiel stumbling backward. He tripped on the fountain steps and toppled. The vampire gripped the back of his head and forced his head underwater.

  Zaqiel swallowed water and choked. This was a bad situation. It didn’t take long to drown an angel, and drowning was the only way to take him out without a poisoned blade.

  This had happened once before. That damned flood had swept him from his feet and taken the breath from him. He’d come to in that blasted ninth void and had been imprisoned there far too long for any creature’s sanity.

  He wasn’t about to go down a second time.

  Pulled above the surface, Zaqiel sucked in air and sputtered water. The vampire turned him over and slammed his head against the step again. His skull vibrated nastily, and Zaqiel struggled to maintain consciousness.

  “I need names,” the vampire hissed. “Names of your fellow Fallen still bound in the ninth void.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Come on, dude, you don’t care about the others. Why not give them up?”

  And he knew then how he had come to ground. It made little sense. But how else could this asshole have such information, and be so hot to get it? “The vampires are summoning us?”

  “You bet. So about those names.” The vampire kneeled on his chest and bounced. A couple rib bones cracked. Zaqiel winced. “Just a couple will do.”

  “Why should I give you names?”

  “Don’t you want to spread the love around? I mean, the more of you walking the earth, the more the Sinistari have to track.”

  Made stupid sense. But Zaqiel was not stupid. “If I am the only Fallen then I’ve an entire hoard of muses to pick from.”

  “There is that. But, dude, I’ve seen you and the Sinistari. He’s going to win, trust me on that one. And we’d appreciate it if you’d cough up some names so we can match them with the sigils from the paintings and have others to replace you when you’ve become angel toast.”

  “Why are you summoning us now?”

  “Not your business.”

  Another brutal smash of his human skull against the hard stone pushed Zaqiel beyond anger and into rage. He let loose the ear-piercing scream that would shatter a mortal’s eardrums—and quite possibly a vampire’s, too—but a rag was stuffed in his mouth.

  “That trick only works once, dude. I caught on with the last fallen angel.” Bruce jammed his knee into Zaqiel’s groin, and once again he cursed his human form. “Names.”

  Ashur charged the man standing next to the halo. Eden dashed out of the way to give him clear access. He slammed his hand against the man’s throat and pinned him to the wall, his feet dangling.

  “Do you know him?” he growled at Eden.

  She shook her head and stepped farther away. “He followed me from New York. He was in my penthouse!”

  He closed his fingers around the man’s throat. The man yelped, but only briefly as Ashur could feel his throat muscles slacken.

  “Don’t kill him!” Eden yelled. “He’s a halo hunter.”

  “A what?” The man’s hand clambered to claw at Ashur’s arm, but his efforts were ineffectual.

  “He looks for halos to keep them away from vampires,” Eden explained.

  “Vampires?”

  “Yes! And he broke the ward.”

  He had sensed the nonresistant wards as he’d entered the house. Dropping the man in a heap, Ashur did not relent. He jammed his boot against his shoulder, hard.

  The man gasped, easing his fingers over his injured vocal muscles. That he had been here alone with Eden made Ashur want to reach in and rip out his throat through his mouth. And if he had touched her, he’d be seeing the psychopomp again soon because this asshole had but moments of breath remaining.

  “Did he touch you?”

  “No,” Eden warbled. She was distraught, and Ashur sensed it might be more from his actions.

  “I don’t know who or what you are,” Ashur said, leaning in close to the man’s reddened face, “but I do know you broke in without permission and you were standing close to my woman. You’ve got five seconds to explain before I make you a choker of that halo.”

  “The vampires—” he gasped as he clasped his throat and heaved “—want the halo.”

  Eden bent over beside Ashur and put a hand on his shoulder. Her soft pear scent invaded his senses, which calmed him and shook him from the rage.

  “He said vampires are looking for the halos to trap the Fallen. Something like that. Ashur?”

  Ashur kicked away from the man, which allowed him to roll forward onto his elbows. Head bowed, the man choked. Ashur put an arm around Eden’s shoulder. “Vampires exist,” he muttered.

  She chuffed out a breath.

  “But I don’t understand why they would be involved with angels.” He stretched out an arm toward the halo, which flashed blue. He knew it best to leave that thing alone for now. “That still doesn’t explain why he’s here.”

  “I’m trying to keep the halos from the vampires,” the man said, and followed with another cough.

  “His name is Michael Donovan,” Eden offered. “I think he’s on our side. Even though he did admit to breaking into my penthouse.”

  “The door was ajar,” Donovan said. He pushed himself up to sit against the wall. Head lolling, he heaved in breaths. “What is he?” he asked Eden.

  Ashur again heeled the man’s shoulder with his hard rubber-soled boot. “What do you think I am?”

  “You can’t be an angel. You could be. I don’t know, man. I’m as new to this lexicon of mythological creatures walking the earth as she seems to be.”

  Eden’s fingers clutched about Ashur’s biceps. She did not hold him back, only tamed him enough to listen to what the intruder had to say.

  “For ten years I’ve hunted halos,” Donovan explained. “The angels fell to earth—they dropped their halos. I find them. It’s a hobby. An expensive one, at times. At other times, adventurous. It’s all good. But I never expected to learn about vampires—that they exist or that they want to capture an angel and force it to mate with a muse.”

  Ashur tugged his arm from Eden’s grip and paced away to put distance between him and Donovan. The man knew much. Though how vampires fit into the Fallen’s vile quest baffled him. Halo hunter? He’d never heard
of it.

  He regarded the fallen man from over his shoulder. His face was still red and he rubbed his throat. Anything was possible, Ashur told himself. Hell, Eden’s small collection could qualify her as a halo hunter.

  Eden poured a glass of water from the fridge and offered it to Donovan, who remained on the floor. He accepted with a nod and drank the whole thing in a slow, long swallow.

  She returned to Ashur’s side and whispered, “What did you find out? Are you?”

  She wanted to know if he’d gone to Raphael and asked about his origins. She must have figured it out. Some of it. She could not know it all. That he had been one of the original fallen, and that he had joined in the vile pact to walk the earth and seek mortal muses to create the vampiric progeny—

  “They want to control the nephilim,” he suddenly said. It made sense to him now. Walking over to Donovan, he asked, “The vampires. Is that what you know?”

  “Nephilim, yes,” Donovan confirmed. “The child of an angel and his muse. Nephilim are like the original blood drinkers. They are cannibals who eat anything on four or two legs. They drink the blood of man and have no moral code. Supposedly they are the founding blood in a line of vampires I had the displeasure to meet a few months ago. It was a tribe, actually. Called themselves Anakim. The vampires believe if they can get their hands on a nephilim they can use it to strengthen their bloodlines.”

  Feeling Eden’s fingers curl into his, Ashur closed his hand gently about them. She stood silent at his side. He could sense her fear; it was as strong as it had been that day Zaqiel had smashed through her bedroom window. He could imagine the bizarre images racing through her mind. He would not go there. He didn’t need to.

  It all made morbid sense to him.

  “You think you can stop it from happening?” he asked.

  “I’m going to try,” Donovan said.

  “Why you? You’re a trinket collector. You have no reason to care. And beyond all that, you are but a common mortal. You cannot stand against the supernatural.”

  “I was nearly killed by the vampire leader not too many months ago,” Donovan said. “He tried to kill my girlfriend, too. Well, she’s my girlfriend now. We sort of bonded during the experience.” He laughed. “She’s a vamp. Didn’t expect that one, but love comes in all sorts of packages, doesn’t it?”