“Sable… is that why you were acting so strangely?” Bleu whispered, his handsome face softening, and she nodded, her guilt rising again as she remembered how she had behaved when he had tried to help her back to the castle and how she had kept this hidden from everyone. “Have you told Olivia?”
She shook her head.
“I couldn’t… I didn’t want her or you guys to think I was some sort of freak.” She held her hand up when he opened his mouth to speak. “I know. She would never think of me like that… and neither would you or Loren… but I was afraid. I didn’t know what this mark was or where it had come from or why I had it… but I might be able to find some answers now. I swear I will tell her everything… when we get back to the Third Realm.”
She looked back at Thorne, her eyebrows furrowing.
“What if I’m the mistake?” she whispered and he squeezed her arm, a tender look in his deep crimson eyes. He drew her arm towards him and she wanted nothing more than to take the comfort he desired to offer her, letting him hold her, but she couldn’t. She needed answers more. She turned to Rosalind. “Is there a way to find this angel?”
Rosalind frowned. “I don’t know. No mortal or immortal knows the pathway to Heaven, and even if you did, they probably wouldn’t let you use it. I don’t tend to ask clients about where they live or keep that sort of thing on file. They don’t like it.”
Dead end. How was she meant to find an angel in this world? She had never seen one in all her years with Archangel and she had never read any reports or information on them in the database.
It was impossible.
“There was a huge throw down at a vampire theatre in the city involving angels,” Rosalind said and her attention snapped back to her, the embers of her hope rekindling. “Really big. Loads of angels were there. A word of warning though… I don’t think this angel was looking for a kid. He looked like the kind of man who would have killed to erase a mistake and protect himself.”
Sable couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What did he look like?”
Rosalind stared hard at her. “Maybe a little like you… but with eyes of pure amethyst.”
Sable sat back in her armchair and stared at the floor, unsure how to process all of the information or her feelings. Thorne spoke to Rosalind of his kingdom and Sable caught snippets of it, hearing enough to know that Rosalind was more than happy to help them with their problem, but her thoughts kept returning to angels.
Could she be the daughter of an angel? The result of a mistake? Did she even want to face that ugly truth?
It could be pure coincidence that she had the same tattoo as an angel.
Or not.
A man with the same tattoo had come to Rosalind around the time of her conception and asked to see his future, fearing a mistake would take away his wings?
An angel who looked like her?
It was too much.
“Are you unwell?” Thorne’s deep voice roused her from her thoughts, pulling her out of the mire, and she looked into his dark crimson eyes.
She shook her head and balanced on the brink of asking him to take a detour on the way back to his realm so she could visit the theatre Rosalind had mentioned and discover whether an angel who looked like her had been there. She couldn’t do that though.
Thorne’s kingdom was vulnerable without him.
She also didn’t think that vampires would appreciate an Archangel hunter showing up at their door asking about the angels who had attacked them.
“We should get started,” Bleu said and Sable nodded.
Rosalind stared at her. So did Thorne.
His gaze left her. “Give me directions to this theatre.”
“No. We don’t have time,” Sable said and he held his hand up.
“We will make time. This is important to you… and you need to have the answers to the questions that plague your heart, Sable.” Thorne’s tone brooked no argument but she opened her mouth to voice one anyway. He spoke before she could get the words out. “It is what is best for you and best for our battle. You might perhaps be able to uncover something about your power that could be useful.”
Sable’s shoulders sagged and she wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the heart or the conviction, not when he looked at her with love and understanding in his eyes.
She had told him about her parents and he knew her inner fear about her power and what it meant. He wanted to help her, had even gone as far as to counter all her arguments before she could voice them, giving her no room for manoeuvre and ensuring she went along with his plan.
He wasn’t really thinking about how useful she could be in the battle to save his kingdom though. She could see straight through that as an excuse to get her to agree to go to the theatre and question the vampires. He wanted her to have answers because he knew how much this revelation about herself distressed her. He wanted to take away her pain and confusion.
It touched her.
She had expected everyone to turn against her and want to treat her like a science experiment because of her new abilities, but Thorne wasn’t like that and neither was Bleu. She had painted them with the Archangel brush, expecting them to be like her bosses. Thorne, Bleu and even Rosalind hadn’t looked at her any differently than they had before discovering that she might be part angel. She was the only one making a big deal of it.
She supposed that powers and abilities and this kind of crazy shit was every day run of the mill stuff for them. They took it all in their stride but she couldn’t. It still freaked her out.
“It will take time to find a way to reopen the pathway or get around the barrier… a couple of hours maybe,” Rosalind said in a quiet voice and stood. “Come back then and hopefully I’ll be close to a solution.”
“Really… we should help,” Sable said and Thorne growled.
“We will go to the theatre and return as soon as we can.” He clutched her arm and her voice failed her when he looked down at her, the soft affection mixed with determination in his eyes stealing her breath away.
Sometimes, she was glad that he was stubborn.
Rosalind scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. She looked at the address.
“I know where this is. It’s not far from Trafalgar Square in London.”
“And I know where that is,” Thorne said and bowed his head to Rosalind. “My thanks, Little Witch.”
Rosalind nodded. “Two hours, tops.”
Thorne pulled Sable closer and held his hand out to Bleu. Bleu reluctantly took it and the ground opened beneath them. Sable closed her eyes as they dropped into the black abyss, holding on tightly to Thorne.
The cold feeling passed and she opened her eyes. Wide open space surrounded her, the large square and sandstone buildings quiet in the early morning. A statue of a lion loomed over Thorne’s shoulder, the sky above him a brilliant shade of blue.
Cars and red double-decker buses travelled along the main street near the square, providing the only noise.
“This way.” Sable led Thorne and Bleu towards the opposite end of the square and the road that would take them to the theatre.
A vampire theatre right in the heart of London.
She couldn’t believe it.
This end of the city was beautiful, the old sandstone buildings, the square and the museums attracting thousands of tourists every day, and every night. Did the vampires feed nearby? The theatre wasn’t on Archangel’s watch list so the vampires must have control of their patrons, and their staff, ensuring they didn’t draw attention to them by openly killing.
Sable crossed the road and headed up the street towards the theatre. The elegant cream stone building stood on the right hand side of the narrow street. Steps led up to the columned porch and she tipped her head back, taking in the grandeur of the carved triangular frieze the pillars supported. The glass doors that ran the length of the portico were a modern twist to the building, out of place with the character and charm of it.
They w
ere shuttered on the inside. She glanced at the huge windows either side of the porch and found similar black shutters beyond the glass. Definitely a home of vampires.
Thorne took the steps swiftly and was banging on the glass doors before she had caught up with him.
Would anyone answer?
Vampires were nocturnal and she didn’t know how many lived in this theatre. Disturbing a nest of sleeping vampires didn’t seem like a wise idea, even when she had Thorne and Bleu as back up.
Thorne kept banging, each heavy pound of his fist rattling the glass.
A smartly dressed woman passing along the street behind them stared their way. Sable really hoped that she didn’t spot Thorne’s horns. Bleu stood behind him, partially blocking the woman’s view, but Thorne was bare-chested, and that was bound to attract some attention.
Sable began to wish the vampires would open the door.
The shutters on one of the doors drew back to reveal a handsome blond man.
Sable’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Oh, this isn’t going to be good.”
CHAPTER 22
“What is wrong?” Thorne’s deep voice offered Sable some comfort as she stared at the grey-eyed vampire standing on the other side of the glass.
“We kinda met this vampire before… in a club… when Loren got drunk.” Sable edged closer to Thorne and Bleu.
Bleu cursed in the demon tongue.
The vampire stared at them and folded his arms across his chest, causing the rolled-up sleeves of his pinstripe black shirt to tighten against his forearms. Markings tracked in a line up his arms, snagging her attention for a heartbeat. They looked fae in origin. His gaze remained locked on her at first, the dark intent in it triggering her gift and telling her to keep her distance, and then shifted to take in Bleu and then Thorne.
“Can I help you with something?” The man gave them each a look that warned he wasn’t happy and she could almost hear him plotting their downfall in his head as he weighed them up in turn. His steely cold gaze lingered longer on Thorne this time. Deciding to take him on first or last?
Before Sable could answer, a young blond boy dressed in blue Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas appeared beside the vampire, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He looked up at the man and tugged on his loose shirttails.
The sandy-haired man stooped, caught the boy under his arms and lifted him into his embrace. The smile he gave the boy caused a pang in Sable’s chest. The young boy yawned again and settled his head against the vampire’s shoulder, cuddling into him. The pang in her chest worsened. Before her stood the perfect image of fatherhood that she had never experienced in her life, and it came in the form of a vampire.
She had never thought of his kind, or any of the fae and demons she hunted, as being tender and capable parents with families, and she didn’t want to think about it now. She had killed her share of vampires, following her orders without question, trusting Archangel and the system. How many of those vampires, demons and fae had been parents? How many families had she destroyed?
How many families had those demons, vampires and fae destroyed to put themselves onto Archangel’s list?
Sable reminded herself that they had been there for a reason. Archangel only dealt with the non-humans who broke the rules and destroyed mortal lives in the process. Telling herself that didn’t lift the weight from her stomach and she couldn’t stop staring at the man before her and the way he clutched the boy, tucking him close to his chest in his strong arms.
Protecting him.
The pang worsened.
The vampire in question turned a red-edged glare on them. “You have three seconds to answer my question before I get Elissa down to deal with you. What do you want?”
Sable presumed Elissa wasn’t a vampire and was capable of leaving the confines of the theatre in daylight and handling two immortals and a hunter on her own.
“I have a few questions… about angels.”
The man’s eyes burned red, his pupils beginning to turn elliptical. He covered the young boy’s ears, pressing him to his chest, and growled.
“Angels,” he spat and scowled at her, disgust colouring his expression. “I’m not the resident expert on those bastards. Wait here.”
He disappeared.
No flash of light like the elves used or a black hole in the ground like the demons created. He just winked out of existence.
Wait a moment.
Vampires couldn’t teleport.
Thorne moved closer to her and she looked up at him. His eyes glowed red, his horns curling and ears growing pointed, and it wasn’t desire changing them.
“Something wrong?” She looked back at Bleu but he seemed calm enough, although he wore a look of disgust similar to the one the vampire had sported on mentioning angels. She hadn’t forgotten how much Bleu hated bloodsuckers. It equalled her hatred for them. He must have been loving being around Grave and the others as much as she had been.
“The male is an incubus. I will not let him near you,” Thorne growled beside her and Sable frowned at him.
“He’s a vampire… although he can teleport. That’s not normal, is it?”
“He is only a vampire in part. A large part of him is incubus. He bears the scent of one, and the markings. The boy was also an incubus.” Thorne edged another step closer.
Bleu moved to stand beside her and curled his lip, flashing a hint of fang. “This whole place stinks like blood.”
Sable peered closer, trying to get a good look at the foyer of the theatre. It was too dark for her to make anything out clearly, even with the weak daylight filtering in through the glass doors.
A beautiful petite raven-haired woman appeared out of the gloom, a long white dress hugging her curves. She moved into the light, close to the doors, her gaze locked on Sable. Sable couldn’t tear her gaze away from the woman either. She had the most incredible eyes and Sable had never seen anything like them. They were brilliant blue around her pupils but turquoise around the edges, and the longer Sable stared into them, the calmer she felt.
“You wished to know of my kind?” the woman said, her voice a soothing melody, airy and soft.
Her kind?
“Angels.” Sable looked the petite woman over. “You’re an angel?”
She nodded. “I was. I gave up that life to be here.”
At a vampire theatre. Sable could only guess that she had fallen in love with one of the vampires. She had heard of some pretty forbidden relationships before, but nothing on this scale.
“Did you know a male with black hair and purple eyes, and a mark like this?” Sable tugged her shirtsleeve back to reveal the stylised black cross on the inside of her right wrist.
The woman moved forwards, until daylight bathed her in a golden glow. A frown crinkled her brow. “It isn’t possible… my master would not do such a thing… but my master was only one of a few angel commanders who bore this mark.”
“Bore?” Past tense. Sable swallowed to wet her throat.
The angel nodded. “He is dead. Killed here in the battle. He sought to murder everyone in this place and me with them.”
He sounded charming. Part of Sable hoped the homicidal angel wasn’t her father.
“Is it possible that he might have been my father though?” Sable edged closer to the glass doors and the woman, her heart thumping against her chest. “Can an angel father a child?”
“It is possible. But other angels have dark hair and purple eyes. It is not uncommon.”
Sable rubbed the cross with her thumb. “But none that were born with this mark?”
The angel looked at it again, her incredible eyes catching the daylight and brightening. “No. The Echelon are rare. They are born to be commanders and all are thousands of years old. Only their offspring bear it now… but you are not an angel.”
Sable shook her head in agreement. “Just a regular mortal.”
The woman smiled. “There is nothing regular about you.”
A roar ech
oed through the building.
Thorne grabbed Sable, pulling her close to him, and Bleu closed ranks on her other side.
A huge ice-blond vampire male loomed behind the petite angel, immense and lethal compared with her, his pupils nothing more than tiny vertical slices in the centre of his red irises.
The angel didn’t flinch or jump and her expression remained placid and serene.
The enormous bare-chested male flashed his fangs and grabbed her shoulders from behind, his claws pressing into her flesh.
She slowly lifted her hand and gently touched his left one.
She sighed. “You broke your restraints again.”
The chains attached to the thick steel cuffs around his wrists rattled as the male drew her back against him and wrapped his arms around her, crossing them over her front. He bared his fangs again, aiming the threat at Thorne and then Bleu, and then pushed the woman aside. He went to step forwards, towards the doors, his gaze narrowed and calculating, claws flexing. He meant to fight them.
The petite angel stepped in front of him and stopped him with a single soft touch of his cheek.
The vampire looked down at her, the overlong white threads of his hair hanging forwards, brushing his cheeks together with her slender hand.
Sable expected him to push her aside again but he remained still, his bare chest heaving with each laboured breath.
“We were only talking, Snow,” the woman whispered and stroked his cheek, “and the sun is out. These people mean me no harm. The female came to ask after her father.”
“Father?” the vampire said gruffly, his voice thick and low. His silver eyebrows drew together. “Father?”
The woman nodded. “It seems my master may have committed a sin no one knew about.”
Snow growled, baring his fangs. Evidently, he didn’t like the woman mentioning her master, and Sable could understand why if the man had been part of the battle between the angels and vampires at the theatre.
“I’m tired of being called a mistake and a sin,” Sable said and the huge male looked up at her. The softness that had entered his eyes while he had been looking down at the angel disappeared, replaced by an endless hunger for violence and blood. Sable stood her ground. “Rosalind the witch told me about the man I’m looking for information on. She said that he had wanted to know his future because he had feared he would lose his wings.”
Claimed by a Demon King Page 26
