Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2)

by Christina Phillips

  “No.” Nico retracted his fangs and offered another insincere smile. “The archangel works only for himself.”

  “That’s what we all do.” Nate broke off and gave the girl who brought over their drinks a smile that caused her to wobble on her six-inch heels. He waited until she was out of earshot before he turned back to them. “We don’t take orders from anyone. And when the shit hits, our priority is to look out for number one.”

  “Your philosophy amuses me, Nate.” Nico didn’t sound especially amused, and neither did he take his intense gaze from Azrael. “Your fellow archangel’s, on the other hand, doesn’t.”

  “You have a problem with me wanting to destroy Sakarbaal?” He grabbed the nearest glass and drained the contents. It was only human alcohol and did nothing for him, but it was either that or reach across the table and grip the arrogant bastard’s throat.

  He understood Nico’s antipathy towards him. The feeling was mutual. But they shared a deadly enemy. That was no secret. And although it was less well known that once, in the distant past, Nico and Sakarbaal had been as close as father and son, that bond had shattered almost a thousand years ago.

  Nico was the only vampire still in existence, outside of the top tiers of the Enclave, who might know what Sakarbaal had been doing with a phoenix in Romania.

  “The way you tried to nine hundred years ago?”

  The last thing he needed was to be reminded of how he’d failed in that mission.

  “I crushed whatever he’d been planning.” Although not, unfortunately, for good.

  “Yes.” For a second he caught a savage gleam in the vampire’s eyes. “I witnessed the aftermath.”

  Was Nico referring to the pitiful horde of dhampirs he’d slain while searching for their master’s lair? It didn’t seem likely. Why would one of the ancients give a shit about any of those misbegotten creatures?

  They certainly hadn’t nine hundred years ago.

  “I have no intention of allowing him to escape me for a second time.”

  Nico’s gaze didn’t waver. “And you won’t hesitate to slaughter any dhampir that comes between you and your target?”

  Did the vampire know Sakarbaal had managed to infiltrate the spiritual realms? “Dhampirs are polluting the astral planes. What the hell’s going on there?”

  Something flared in Nico’s eyes. Hadn’t he known of that development? “Dhampirs are merely following their master’s orders. As they always have. Sakarbaal doesn’t encourage free will in his slaves.”

  He recalled the filthy, vacant-eyed creatures that had shuffled, zombie-like, towards him on that bloodied night in Romania. Disgust churned his gut.

  “He’s raised another mindless army?”

  Why surround himself with dhampirs? They might hold off inept humans, but they were no match for trained warriors, never mind anyone with even a trace of immortal blood in their veins.

  “He’s raised another dhampir army, yes.”

  Frustration tore through him and he leaned forward, forearms across his thighs. “But what the fuck is he doing with them? What’s the phoenix connection, Nico?”

  Nico didn’t answer right away. But if he had no intention of sharing any information then why had he decided to meet with Azrael after two centuries of refusing?

  “We suspected he’d captured a second phoenix about fifty years ago.” Nico sounded reluctant to share that fact, but it answered the question why Azrael’s visions had returned half a century ago. “It took us several decades before we were certain. Whatever it is he’s planning, he’s close to execution.”

  “And that’s why you finally agreed to see me?” Azrael leaned back against the sofa. “Because I’m the only one who can finish this?”

  Nico gave a derisive laugh that grated on his nerves. “The reason I agreed to see you is because you are the one in danger of being finished by Sakarbaal.”

  He’d waited two hundred years for Nico to tell him this? Was this all the information the vampire possessed? “No fucking vampire is going to be the end of me, no matter how powerful he thinks he is.”

  “Az is right,” Nate said. “It’ll take more than a pissed off vampire to kill an archangel.”

  Nico smiled. For the first time that night it looked genuine. Something in the conversation had clearly amused him although he couldn’t think what the fuck had. “Sakarbaal engages others to do his dirty work. If I’m not mistaken—and I’m not—he won’t strike the killing blow until you’re utterly defenseless.”

  “Not going to happen. You got anything useful for me or has this been a complete waste of time?”

  The amusement fled and Nico leaned forward, hostility radiating from him. “You wanted to know if Sakarbaal has raised another dhampir army. In your prejudiced view, what did you see when I told you he had? A repeat of Romania? Do you think he learned nothing from that massacre?”

  “I don’t give a shit about his fucking dhampir army. I want to know what he was doing with a phoenix nine hundred years ago and what the hell he’s trying to achieve by shredding its soul.”

  Nico’s lip curled in blatant derision. “I could tell you a great deal, archangel. Let me start with this. Your cover is compromised.”

  The only cover he maintained while on Earth associating with humans was the illusion of being a mortal himself. For a reason known only to the vampire, Nico had brought him here tonight with only one intention. Of wasting his time.

  He stood and turned to Nate who looked supremely unconcerned by the non-events unfolding. “I’ll catch you later. There’s nothing here to interest me.”

  “Tell Rowan, the Strigoi Echelon send her our regards.”

  Chapter 18

  Azrael

  Nico’s mocking words slammed through Azrael’s chest, stopping him dead. How the hell did he know about Rowan?

  Because he really has been following me. And he’d led the vampire to Rowan.

  He swung round, rage and something akin to fear blazing through him at the realization he’d put her in mortal danger.

  “Stay away from her.” It was an archangelic command and if Nico didn’t acknowledge that then his damned nights were numbered.

  “Why?” Nico reclined in his chair and had the nerve to sling him a smile that raked like barbed lightning through his chest. How dare a vampire question him? How dare the bloodsucker attempt to threaten Rowan? “Is she that good a fuck?”

  Primal fury whiplashed through him at the insult. No one spoke of Rowan with such arrogant contempt. He grabbed the vampire’s throat and slammed him up against a gilded Corinthian column. The column cracked, faces turned their way, and he was barely aware of the concealing glamour that Nate flung up around them all.

  “Touch her and I promise I won’t just come after you. I’ll destroy every fucking Strigoi in existence.”

  The vampire’s eyes glowed crimson but the mocking smile remained fixed on his lips. As though, far from the warning it was intended to be, Azrael’s reaction revealed something far more intriguing.

  “Hey, Az,” Nate said. “You can’t throttle Nic, no matter how hard you try. Who the hell is Rowan anyway? Another vampire?”

  He snatched his hand from Nico’s throat and slung a glare of such feral disgust Nate’s way it would have pulverized a lesser being. “Rowan is not up for discussion.”

  “She’s the reason we’re having this discussion,” Nico said. “Why I agreed to this meeting.”

  Whatever game Nico was playing, he’d had enough. The vampire couldn’t harm Rowan. All he had to do was give her his official protection and no other immortal would dare touch her.

  He’d never done such a thing before. But if she was in danger because of their association then he would do nothing less to ensure her safety.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Nate stood up, his attention fixed on Nico. “What does Az’s current lay have to do with anything?”

  He gritted his teeth and took a step back. Just because she was his current lay did
n’t mean Nate should refer to her as such. It was… disrespectful.

  Nico ignored Nate, his focus entirely on Azrael. “It was Sakarbaal I was tailing two weeks ago. I can get closer to him without detection than any other can, and we hoped to discover the reason for his unexpected return to London.”

  “Go on.” The words scraped his throat raw, but if Nico was finally going to say something worthwhile then he had no option but to swallow the acidic rage poisoning his reason.

  The pause lengthened, fraught with words unsaid, until the vampire deigned to respond.

  “His dhampirs bear no resemblance to those you encountered in Romania. For the last fifty years he’s bred only the beautiful and intelligent.” Anguish scorched the last few words, and Azrael’s gaze sharpened. What the hell’s that about? Nico’s features turned granite as he met Azrael’s eyes, and his voice turned cold. “Attributes that, combined with vampiric abilities, he can use to his utmost advantage.”

  “He’s been genetically engineering dhampirs?” Nate sounded fascinated. But then, he hadn’t been there that night. Hadn’t witnessed that decrepit army or heard their haunting screams as they’d died at his feet.

  “Yes.” Nico spared a fleeting glance in Nate’s direction. “But not in the way you might imagine.”

  “Fine.” He all but spat the word at the vampire. “You’re saying he has dhampirs in London? And he has them hunting me?”

  “He has dhampirs in every major city in the world. And yes. He assigned one of his premier assassins to take you down.”

  The idea that he was the target of a dhampir didn’t concern him. But there was a connection to Rowan, and he didn’t like how Nico had failed to address that. “Are you suggesting this dhampir is attempting to get to me through Rowan?”

  “How would that work?” Nate said. “You could just teleport her somewhere safe until you’d neutralized the threat.”

  “Sakarbaal’s dhampirs aren’t merely highly trained warriors. He uses them as spies. You can guess how the most beautiful serve his wishes.” Nico paused to let that unpalatable bit of information sink in. Who in their right mind would want to fuck a dhampir? He didn’t care how different they were from the ones he’d encountered before. Some things just didn’t—couldn’t—change.

  “Whoa.” Nate sounded impressed although he had no idea which part of the sick plan could have done that. “She must be spectacular to have blindsided you, Az.”

  “What?” He glowered at his fellow archangel. Was Nate daring to insinuate that Rowan—?

  “Fourteen nights ago,” Nico said, “I discovered that Sakarbaal was tailing one of his senior dhampirs. This didn’t much interest me. Until I saw her pick up her mark.”

  That was the night he and Rowan had met outside Estella’s. He shoved Nico back against the column, the tip of his dagger against the vampire’s throat.

  He didn’t even recall pulling the dagger from its sheath. “Don’t go there.”

  Nico didn’t appear intimidated by either the words or weapon.

  “I kept my distance. I might be able to conceal my presence from Sakarbaal but your pretty little dhampir is another matter. Nevertheless, I saw you leave the restaurant. Saw you pull her into the doorway. And watched you enter the hotel.”

  Raw fury blazed and he plunged the dagger through the vampire’s throat. Except the vampire was no longer there, and only lingering tendrils of black vapor wrapped around the blade.

  “I wasn’t Made last millennium.” Nico’s whisper grazed his ear and he swung round to where the vampire stood, as solid as ever. “And I’m no feeble dhampir you can destroy with a thoughtless decapitation.”

  “Rowan’s not a dhampir.” The words corroded his throat and offended his soul that he even had the need to utter them. “You’re mistaken.”

  “And yet I’m not.” Nico’s lip curled in disdain. “She’s the second eldest dhampir in the London branch of the Enclave of the Phoenix. Dhampirs don’t live to a great age under Sakarbaal’s rule.”

  “I don’t know what you think you can achieve by this.” He reined in the savage desire to rip Nico’s foul heart from his chest. He knew, in his current state, he’d fail. But gods, he’d find a way to slaughter the bastard when his guard was down. “If Sakarbaal had sent one of his agents then she would have come onto me. I was the one who picked up Rowan.”

  A memory seared through his brain. Of how Rowan had glared at the woman in that nightclub, the one who had attempted to seduce him on the dance floor.

  It didn’t mean she’d been planning to make her move. If she was a dhampir I would know.

  “You forget she’s been trained in the art of seduction. And by your reaction she is obviously exceptional in her field of expertise.”

  But she hadn’t struck him as being experienced in the art of seduction. In the distant past he’d fucked countless females on myriad planets who specialized in pleasure. Rowan’s sexual awakening this week had not been manufactured.

  “She’s mortal.” The words sounded feral to his ears, but he couldn’t help it. Nico’s accusation was repellent on every level. “Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a human and a fucking anomaly of nature?”

  But he’d never scanned her aura. Why would he? They’d met in a human club. And she was too beautiful, too fragile, too enchanting to be something so fundamentally aberrant.

  Except for her surprising strength. But there could be a dozen reasons for that and none of them involved vampire blood.

  “Anomaly of nature?” Derision dripped from every word. “You should know all about that, archangel.”

  Yes, he knew all about that. Archangels were anomalies of nature and he had been called worse during his long existence. But they weren’t talking about him. They were talking about Rowan and there was no way she could have fooled him into believing—

  Believing what? That she was just a regular human woman? A woman who fascinated him to such a degree that he’d met her more frequently over the last two weeks than any other female he could recall in millennia?

  The woman who had allegedly, the night they’d met at Estella’s, saved a boy from a vampire attack?

  “You have no proof.” He pulled back from Nate’s restrictive grip. “Your word means nothing to me.”

  “Az, I’ve known Nico a long time.” Nate sounded serious. “He’s telling the truth. The female is working for Sakarbaal. You need to deal with the problem.”

  This was crazy. No one who had ever met Rowan could think for a second she was anything other than human. Once again, the nightmare from nine hundred years ago flooded his mind. The dhampirs were rank, filthy. Their eyes were blank and dried blood stained their gaping mouths. To accuse Rowan of sharing that tainted heritage was obscene.

  “It’s easy enough to prove.” Nico lounged against another Corinthian column, giving the infuriating impression that they were speaking of something trivial. “Invade her mind. You’ll discover all her secrets. You’ll feel her blood connection to Sakarbaal. Then you can eliminate her. After all, she’s just a disgusting dhampir coming between you and your target.”

  Azrael forcibly unclenched his fist. There was no need to probe Rowan’s mind. Although he’d clouded the surface memories of the diners in Estella’s, that wasn’t the same as invading their brains in search of answers. That was a weapon he used for his enemies, and the results could be ugly. All he needed to do with Rowan was scan her aura. It would be enough to show she was fully human and innocent of Nico’s accusations.

  And when he did, Sakarbaal would no longer be the only Ancient One he planned on hunting down.

  Chapter 19

  Rowan

  The restaurant was a quaint Tudor inn nestling against the bank of the river Thames. As Rowan walked across the cobblestone path, her stomach heaved with nerves and she flexed her numb fingers. Grief shredded her heart and a futile, white hot rage burned her mind.

  Her fleeting glimpse of how a normal life could be was over.
The dreams she’d woven around Azrael were nothing more than ephemeral mists that had blinded her to reality.

  She’d always known they could have no future. But it didn’t make this any easier. Because she’d been foolish enough to fall for him.

  Stop. She wasn’t going to spoil their last night together with regrets. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. No one was going to take that away from her.

  Even before her encounter with Sakarbaal she’d known tonight was the last time she could meet Azrael. But now, after she said goodbye to him, she wouldn’t be going home.

  Not when she had disobeyed a direct assassination order from not merely a senior Elder of the Enclave, but the Master of the Elector High Council.

  She’d spent the day pulling together a hasty escape plan. With the wealth of information the Enclave had amassed over the years, it wasn’t hard to discover the best place to buy a fake birth certificate and other documents. She’d emptied her bank accounts—at least the Enclave paid their dhampirs well—and had managed to smuggle a stockpile of amber acid into her car.

  It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than nothing. Better than continuing to live under Sakarbaal’s rule.

  Stealthily she eyed the dark night, trying to catch a shadow among shadows. She could sense no vampire nearby, but Sakarbaal had plenty of humans he could call on to tail a dhampir he didn’t trust.

  And she was under no illusion he trusted her. While he might not imagine she’d blatantly disobey his command to incapacitate Azrael, he’d known she was lying about their relationship. He must have guessed she wasn’t as invested in this assignment as she’d tried to pretend.

  Not that it mattered. After tonight she would either be dead or starting a new life as a fugitive. And while a hopeless part of her still dreamed of spending what remained of her life with Azrael, she knew better.

  It could never happen. For so many reasons.

  At the oak doors she hesitated, her hand pressed against the aged timber. Concealed in her car was six months’ supply of amber acid. By reducing her daily dosage to half, that gave her a year’s grace. And during that year she had to discover how to replicate the blood substitute, or she was as good as dead anyway.