by Michele Hauf
“A woman hurt him,” she muttered. “So it’s heartbreak that keeps him from being open with me. How to help him get beyond something so devastating?”
The man needed space. And a reasonable means to trust her, if he was going to fess up and tell her something so deeply personal. So she’d give him space. She could do that. If any nasty demons came after her she’d just whip out the halo and...
“Where is the halo?”
Unzipping the backpack she shuffled through it and found the halo nestled in a hoodie jacket. Taking it out, she decided she would have to keep it on her at all times. If it could take out an angel, it sure as heck could take out a demon.
“Watch out, bad guys.” She swung the blade defensively in a close arc before her. “I am armed and ready.”
The statement felt empowering. But really? She’d accidentally slain the angel, and that was only because it had been distracted by Blade. What if she was alone and trapped by an angel or demon?
Zen gulped down a meek squeak. She sure hoped Blade stuck to his promise to protect her.
* * *
“It’s like a beacon,” the demon said. He was visiting the mortal realm as first hand to his commander, who sat across the table from him. He set the coffee cup down and broke off a big bite of the sugared donut the café advertised as “heart attacks.” “We can track her when she’s got that halo in hand.”
“But so can the angels,” Kesabel said. He rapped pointed fingernails on his coffee cup and sneered at the coating of sugar that painted his cohort’s lips white. “And we don’t want them to get to her before we do.”
“We were so close last night.” The lackey demon sucked the sugar from his fingertips. “Until the vampire and the werewolf crashed the party.”
“That idiot vampire thinks he’s got to protect her.”
“Someone needs to have words with him.”
Kesabel nodded. “Done.”
* * *
At the back of the garage where once a farmer had herded dairy cattle in and out to be milked twice daily, Blade leaned over the steel worktable his father had designed for him. He worked on cars as a hobby, but he wasn’t a die-hard car fanatic who fixed them up and polished and shined and then parked them at shows for display. He liked a good, solid car and preferred not to buy new. Recycling was the way he’d been raised. He did the same with the weapons he stocked in the small arsenal here in the cool shadows of the garage. He rescued rusted blades from antiques shows and flea markets, took them home and polished and honed them. He liked blades, and it wasn’t because of his name. When in combat, being up close and able to feel his opponent’s breath on his face was the most challenging and satisfying way to win the fight.
He didn’t own a gun. They were too loud, and really, it was too easy to kill with them. If a man were committed to defense, to protecting himself and others, he had better be willing to stand before that threat and give it good and fair fight. A bullet was too impersonal. A coward’s weapon.
He drew his fingertips over the one blade he wouldn’t leave home without. The bowie knife his father had forged for him when he was a teen. As well...he reached high for the salt dagger that hung above the assorted weaponry. It was fragile, but the hardened salt that had been compressed into the cheese-grater-like base of steel was an effective weapon against demons. Daisy Blu’s husband, Beck, had given it to him; it was from his late father, Severo’s, arsenal.
And now he’d added an angel halo to his necessity weapons. Or he would if his dad was able to modify it.
So he had told the mysterious Sim he was going to help him annihilate the demons in Tangle Lake. They had threatened Zen. And that was a good enough reason for him to go after the next demon he laid eyes on. And the next. And so on, until he was confident the threat had been eliminated.
He sniffed the bowie knife and then licked it. Traces of demon blood still clung to the polished steel. Fangs descending, he grinned wickedly. He was growing stronger with every demon he killed. It wasn’t as though he needed more strength. Only, the gaining of said strength fed his faery’s vicious desire for power. As well, strength bolstered his mission. He’d need muscles of steel if he were to fight more angels.
He wondered who Sim was and what his beef was with demons.
Didn’t matter. There were no wrongs about this situation. Humans were protected from demons. He got to slay demons. And in the process Zen was also protected. Everybody won.
And because he was feeling so confident, Blade tugged out his cell phone and called Zen at the inn. “I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he said after suggesting dinner at a local restaurant, and clicked off.
Time to start treating that remarkable woman like the lady she was. And in keeping her close, he’d also be able to protect her.
* * *
Dinner at an Italian family-owned place called Mansetti’s was followed by a movie. Which Zen had been very excited about. She’d never seen a movie before. Not that she recalled. Afterward, she strolled with Blade, hand in hand, out to his truck, which he’d parked around back in the theater lot far from other patrons.
“That was awesome,” she said. “But I still don’t think it’s possible to shoot a man so many times and he’d continue to rise up, shake it off and go after the hero.”
“That’s why they call it a fantasy action/adventure flick. He did eventually die after they sliced off his head.”
“Yeah, but his body still twitched.” Zen thrust her arms out before her in a zombie imitation and twitched her limbs. “I will never die! Fear me!”
Blade’s laughter was a startling surprise. She dropped her arms, and wrapped them around his neck. “Do that again.”
“What?”
“Laugh.”
He grinned and shook his head. “You’re a strange one.”
“If I told you I thought your laughter was sexy would you do it again?”
“I don’t do sexy on command.” He chuckled softly and playfully pushed her away. Zen beamed at him. “That wasn’t on purpose!” he called as he strode to the truck.
“Doesn’t matter.” She skipped to meet him at the passenger door. “You’ve already gone and done it.”
“And what have I done?”
He teased the ends of her hair. Such an absent-minded move. His guard was down. She liked that. “You are seducing me with your charm.”
“I...don’t have a charming bone in my body.”
“Oh, I think this one is.” She ran a finger down his arm and stopped at the wrist, where he flexed his powerful fingers. “This one, too.” She tapped his shoulder. “It’s not your classic charm, to be sure.”
“Like you would know, Amnesia Girl. Hop in.” He held the truck door open and helped her up with a hand to her hip.
“Can I drive?”
“No one touches the steering wheel,” he called as he swung around the hood, then opened his door and slid in, “or the radio. Driver rules.”
“Sidekick shuts his cakehole?”
Blade tilted a curious gaze on her. “Where’d you hear that?”
“I don’t know. Should I have heard it somewhere?”
“It’s a quote from a popular TV show that features monster hunters.”
“Huh. Must have picked it up when I walked the world.”
Blade turned completely on the seat. His stare was so intense, she felt a shiver ripple through her system. “What?” she said in a panic.
“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Actually acknowledged it. That you walked the world.”
“So?”
“Angels walk the world after their fall to take in knowledge.”
“I knew that. Because...huh.” She sat back, considering the implications. “Because I walked the world. That’s what I was doing before the bus hit me. I know it as truth.”
“You getting back your memory?”
“I don’t know. A little? But if I am an angel, that doesn’t explain why my blood turns black.”
Blade turned the key in the ignition, and, still looking at her, shifted into gear. “Explains why you have a halo.”
He let his foot off the gas, and Zen screamed.
Chapter 16
Zen’s scream startled him so thoroughly Blade slammed his foot on the brake.
Before the truck stood a man, who wasn’t a human, but an angel. Blade knew that because the creature’s wings stretched out twenty feet or more on either side of his shoulders. They weren’t the standard feathered wings, either. These were fashioned from ice. And they weren’t melting in the eighty-degree summer heat.
The angel heaved out a breath of frost that iced over the truck’s windshield. Blade felt the chill enter his veins. He’d not felt so cold since the polar vortex had dropped temps below negative thirty degrees this past winter.
He heard Zen audibly shiver.
“Stay here,” he said to her.
She slapped the halo into his hand. “You’ll need this.”
Right. His dad still had the one he’d claimed.
The angel slammed a fist onto the hood, denting the metal surface into the engine a good eight inches.
“Beating on inanimate objects isn’t impressive,” he muttered. “How about you try me?” To Zen he said, “Keep the engine running.”
He kicked open the door and hopped out. He lunged for the angel, but got caught by an icy wing that thwapped him across the chest and flung him away from the truck. His spine landed against a street pole, the overhead light flickering from the impact.
The angel grasped the front of the truck and lifted. The front tires left the ground.
“Why are you after her?” Blade yelled as he pushed from the pole and charged the angel.
He jumped onto the hood, which didn’t stop the angel from lifting it, and reached down to grip the bastard by its thick white hair. Ice flowed up Blade’s fingers and hardened the veins in his wrist. “Why?”
The angel roared in a deafening blend of animal sounds and screams. Blade gritted his teeth as he struggled to maintain hold on the creature while his fingers felt as if they’d snap off from frostbite. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the clear ice wing sweep toward him. He slashed the angel’s hand with the halo and on the follow-through managed to slice the wing in half. Ice shattered onto the pavement and the truck hood. The truck wheels dropped to the ground, toppling Blade off-balance.
To his advantage, the wings did not bleed.
Going with the momentum, Blade flipped over the top of the angel’s head, slicing the halo over its shoulder and down the back as he did so. He landed the ground behind him and twisted to see the blue blood spill from the cavernous icy wound.
The undamaged wing collided with Blade’s back. The force expelled the halo from his grip and pushed him forward to catch his palms against the angel’s chest. The creature’s skin was like dry ice. His flesh stuck to the thing. So he shifted. The subtle changes to his musculature and body were enough to free him from the icy opponent.
With wings out and in full faery form, Blade pranced around the angel, turning it away from the vehicle and Zen. “What do you want from her?”
Nothing but brain-shattering cacophony spilled from the creature’s mouth. Either it hadn’t mastered the human tongue or it was focused on annoying the hell out of Blade. The sound was louder than standing next to a stack of speakers at a heavy metal concert—turned up to eleven.
Holding his hands out in placation, Blade walked farther backward, luring the creature forward. Its wounded shoulder spilled copious blood that he kept an eye on. If it touched his skin he’d live, but the instant it permeated his bloodstream he was a goner.
Spying the halo on the tarmac, he swept down a hand and snagged it. A wing whooshed toward him, lifting his hair but not cutting him. Rolling up to stand, Blade eyed the truck. Zen sat inside. Safe.
“You’re the second one,” he said to the angel, guessing the thing understood him, no matter his language skills. “I will protect her with my life.” He stretched his wings out behind him then arrowed backward, making him a narrow target. “Time for you to return to where you came from. But this time? I’m sending you to St. Peter’s gate.”
The angel lunged for him. An icy wing tip cut through Blade’s jeans. Heat seared his skin. Slashing an arm down, he drew the halo upward, cutting the angel’s leg and across his chest. The angel’s body opened up, blood spilling and a bright light emitting. Blade dodged the gush of blue blood. A wicked growl preceded a brilliant flash. The angel dispersed in a scatter of crystal dust and settled like winter snow upon the ground.
“Yes!” carried out from inside the truck.
Blade shook the icicles off his wings and yowled. The angel’s icy touch still hurt like a mother. He slapped a hand over his thigh. No blood. He was safe.
A police siren sounded and he guessed it was a few miles away.
The truck drove up beside him and Zen called out the driver’s window, “Get in! The cops! Hurry!”
Trying to shift resulted in a vicious twinge to his system. The lingering shock of cold kept him from shifting. Folding his wings up behind him, Blade managed to fit himself inside the truck cab, but had to pull in the top of his right wing and bend it uncomfortably.
“We’ll have to return for the angel dust later,” Zen said.
“Don’t need it. Only a witch would have use for it.”
“Fine.” Zen pulled the vehicle out of the parking lot. The truck sputtered and clunked and with a lurching heave forward—sped out into the darkness.
“That was close,” she said. “That thing might have turned you to ice. And look at your wing! It’s bleeding. I think. It’s sparkly.”
He hadn’t been aware he’d taken damage. Blade pulled up the peak of his right wing and examined the cut, which healed even as he ran his fingers over it. Ichor-tainted blood spilled over the dark wing fabric and dropped onto his lap, staining the denim darkly.
Had any angel blood entered his bloodstream? He didn’t feel as if he would explode. Because that was what would happen. One minute the vamp was smiling and going about his business. Angel blood gets into his veins—bam!
Zen eyed him for so long the truck swerved toward the ditch. It was only then he realized his pants had split down the thigh and crotch during the shift. And he wasn’t wearing anything beneath the jeans.
“Eyes on the road,” he directed her. “Don’t take your foot off the gas. The engine might be damaged. The minute this truck stops, I think it’ll be for good.”
“Right.” She turned sharply onto the gravel road that led toward his home.
“I’d put my wings back but I need to stretch them out to furl them back up. Gotta wait until we get home. Sorry.”
“For what? Saving my life? Again! Dude, you can put those wings anywhere you like. And uh...those pants are going to fall off when you stand up is my guess. I can’t wait.”
“I just dodged death and you’re excited to see me drop trou?”
She shrugged, and while she kept her eyes on the road, Blade took in her broad smile. He forgot about the danger. That smile would undo him.
Hell, it already had.
* * *
Zen handled the truck well. And as Blade had suspected, when she stepped on the brake to park, the vehicle heaved to a clattering death.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Not your fault. I think it had something to do with the angel.” He shivered. “And all that ice. I can still feel it on my skin. It’s creepy.”
“I’ll run inside and get you a towel.”
While Zen ran up to the house, Blade stepped out of the truck. Though it was a sultry evening, he shivered again. The angel’s touch lingered on his skin, in his very veins. He clutched the jeans’ waistband to his stomach, but it wasn’t doing much good. The crotch was ripped open.
He smirked. Zen wasn’t the sort he wanted to attract in this manner. Because those sorts were one-night stands. On the other hand, she’d let
him know that she liked to tease him and push their intimate boundaries. And those boundaries of his were fast softening.
Striding up to the barn, he cupped a hand over his crotch when Zen reemerged with a towel. She tossed it at him and turned to face the door.
He wrapped it about his hips, dropping the tattered jeans, but suspected it wouldn’t be long before his cock got the better of him and tented the towel. Zen led the way up the stairs, her hips shifting and hair spilling like a sexy veil across her shoulders. She did have some gorgeous curves, and those curves distracted. At the top of the stairs, she turned and caught him in a kiss before he could land on the top step.
“Thank you again. Ooh, you’re shivering. You need to put some clothes on.”
“Here I thought you wanted to see them fall off me.”
“More than anything. But I don’t want it to happen at the expense of your health.”
“I’m not shivering because I’m cold.” Clad in just the towel, Blade wandered into the kitchen, while keeping his back away from Zen’s curious gaze, and ran himself a glass of water from the faucet. “The angel’s touch iced under my skin.” He drank the water then shivered boldly. “You want some?”
“I do want something.” She fidgeted with the ends of her hair, then smiled as she tried to avoid looking at him. Classic subtle flirtation moves. Combined with, he suspected, a healthy dose of nerves. “So here we are.”
“Yep.” He felt a sneaky desire to toy with her discomfort, so he leaned against the counter, hand on his hip. “Here we are. I’d say that date was a disaster, wouldn’t you?”
“Not the majority of it. It was just the last part that was harrowing. And that did end well. The villain died the first time. All in all, I had a good time. And you know, I’ve never seen a naked man before.”
“That you know of.”
“That I remember. So, uh...could I...” She eyed his towel.
“Seriously?”
She nodded eagerly. Clasped together her beringed fingers in expectation.
“I don’t—” She reached for the towel and Blade grabbed it before she could tug it from his hips. “Whoa! Boundaries, Zen.”
