Emotion flooded her, sending the words hurtling from her mouth before she had any hope in hell of stopping them. She turned in pacing circles and kept her eyes down as she hissed, “I hate that every single day, I come face to face with so-called monsters I have to hunt down and destroy, not because they’re monsters, but because they’re suddenly behaving like humans!” She paused, trying to get her breathing under control before she hissed, “Like Michael.”
She stormed over, picked up his file from where it had flown across the room in her fit of fury, and held it up for Jake to see. Only then, when she whirled to face him, did she notice that his hair was wet, and he was dressed only in a pair of jeans.
Oh fuck, she thought.
But he wasn’t looking at her, so he probably didn’t notice the way her mouth dropped open and her eyes glassed over at the sight of him. Instead, he was looking at the file she held up in her hands. As if he was reading it.
Holy shit, she realized. He actually is reading it. He was a vampire, and they had excellent vision, even at a great distance. He could probably see every single word on that page as if it were right in front of his nose. And the look on his face was dark. Very dark indeed.
Angel turned from Jake to the papers. Her eyes fell on the picture of Michael. She looked at his hands, hands that had held her down and pleasured her. She looked at his arms, arms that had held her close. Those lips that had pressed so passionately to hers… and those eyes. Those vivid gray eyes that reminded her of thunderheads when he was angry, and fog when he was at peace. Every time she’d turn to look at him, it seemed he’d already been looking at her. He’d been so attentive to her, always there, always watching.
Angel’s body trembled furiously. She blinked and frowned as realization after realization washed over her, threatening to drown her like a Nazare Beach wave over a fledgling surfer.
Michael was always there. And that was just it. It was strange. Now that she had the clarity of mind to actually consider it, she realized that Michael had always watched over her. To an obsessive degree.
“Oh hell….” she muttered, hopelessly lost. “All my guy friends told me I fell for him too fast. That it wasn’t like me. I was too level-headed to behave that way. But all my girlfriends were jealous. They told me I was lucky. And I agreed. He was everything I wanted in a man.”
A strange sound escaped her throat, a sound of desperate regret, the kind you only experienced after having done something you could never take back but would forever wish you could.
Michael Clemens had tricked her, fooled her, reeled her in, and betrayed everything she believed in. He’d made a business out of evil, and he’d carried it out as if it were a work-a-day world kind of profession. According to his file, he’d been detached about it, he’d separated it from his personal life psychopathically. Cold at work, hot with her. And she’d been none the wiser.
A chill anchored itself in her body, and she shivered before she said in a tone of dismay, “If some supe from one of the Thirteen Realms dares to get jealous, or get angry, or loses their cool, then it’s supposed to be some sort of monstrosity, some kind of inhumane act – but nothing could be further from the truth, Jake!”
She shook the paper in her hand, squeezing it so tight that Michael’s picture crumpled in her fist. “There’s nothing inhumane about it! Because being evil is human! It’s so very, disgustingly human!”
She spun around, pacing back away from the messy pile of papers on the floor. Something very painful was taking place inside her. It made her want to move, or she was going to explode. When she paced back again, she growled, “Humans take more lives on this planet than anything! We wage wars so fast and for such stupid reasons, it’s like we’re bored without it! There has never been a time on earth when someone wasn’t fighting someone else! We cut down life like we’re mowing the lawn! And we think we have to police non-humans? For the love of the gods, Jake, that’s so wrong! And that’s what I hate about my job!”
She was gasping with emotion now, but she was a runaway train. There was no stopping her, and there was no return ticket. “I hate that what I do reminds me that deep down inside, I’m actually the worst of the worst. I’m a cockroach killing butterflies!” A trembling breath released from the core of her, and she was devastated to hear that it was a sob.
She fell to her knees amidst the debris. But now, she couldn’t stop. “Aw hell, that’s mean to cockroaches!”
She sobbed a few times, then breathed around her tears, and her soft trembling voice said, “I trust the kings and queens I’m sworn to serve, I take their jobs, and I do it to protect humanity from everyone and everything else. But the reasoning is all wrong.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “It’s twisted… because humanity doesn’t deserve protecting.”
She raised her hands, grasped Michael’s pages at either end, and ripped them in half. Then she ripped them in half again. And again.
By the time she was finished and had let them drop, she noticed that Jake was standing directly in front of her. She lifted her head and looked way up.
Jake’s green eyes were glowing. “He didn’t deserve your love,” he told her softly but fiercely. He was terribly beautiful just then. A fallen angel. So very fallen.
Angel dropped her head. And then, as silent tears began to pour down her face Jake knelt down, straddled her knees with his, and pulled her firmly into his arms.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
It was a good long while before Angel moved from where she was safely encased in the warmth and strength of Jake’s embrace. It was just too nice where she was. He smelled good. And clean. And his skin was soft over the hard ridges of his muscle, like silk over metal.
But she knew Gabe could return any minute, and this wasn’t how she wanted him to find things. “I need to clean up the mess,” she said softly against his chest.
But Jake laughed, the deep sound vibrating in his lungs beneath her cheek. It was such a wonderful sensation, so deep and beautiful. She gently pulled out of his arms and looked up at him. He was grinning broadly. “There isn’t anything to clean, Angel.”
Angel backed up a little more and gave him a confused look. She blinked when he only continued to grin. Then she moved to the side and peeked around his perfect body to where the files had all been thrown earlier.
Everything was in perfect order. Not a single piece of paper or file folder was out of place. Even the pencil holder and pencils, the sharpener, and the bin where he’d kept things like paper clips and staplers were back on the desk. Just as they had been when she’d walked in.
Angel slowly stood up, and Jake got to his feet after her. She moved to the desk, picked up the red folder, and opened it. Michael Clemens’ papers were intact again. Good as new. There was no evidence that they had at one point been crumpled, much less ripped into tiny shreds.
Angel put the folder back and looked over at Jake. “You know… it’s actually kind of scary that you can do this,” she said softly. The truth was, she was stunned. Jake was far more powerful than she’d thought. She couldn’t help but wonder how much more powerful. It was surprising. And it was thrilling. And if she was being completely honest, it was also a little frightening.
But that only thrilled her even more.
Jake cocked his head to one side and contemplated her with a mischievous look. “Would you like me to put it all back?”
Angel’s eyes widened. She held up her hands quickly, “No! No. That won’t be necessary.”
He laughed. He liked laughing, she noticed. Which was good, since he was so damn hot when he did it.
“Then you’re happy with it?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m happy with it.”
Jake grinned a beautiful, wicked grin. “Then get your cute little ass in that kitchen and make me a nice cup of coffee.”
Angel’s eyes widened. But she couldn’t keep from returning his smile. “And if I refuse?” she asked, because she felt like playing.
Jake l
owered his head, and his green eyes lit with fire. He said, “I was hoping you would ask me that.”
Angel squealed, bolting for the door. She managed to make it back down the hall and through the door of the storm shelter guest room before a strong arm was sliding around her waist, a hard body was shoving her further inside, and the door slammed shut, locking behind them.
Thirty minutes later, Angel took her deliciously sore body down the hall once more and made her way toward the kitchen for the second time that night. She’d taken the time to get dressed enough that she was decent since this was the warden clan house and she would hate to run into anyone wearing next to nothing. But it felt awkward to be wearing shoes right now when Jake was still naked in bed.
The thought of him there made her slow down in the hall, and she bit her lip. Ugh, just keep moving soldier! she told herself. She still wanted her White Russian coffee, damn it, and she was determined to actually make one this time.
But when she entered the kitchen, she had an immediate view through it into the dining room on the other side. There was a table in the dining room where Vega members often sat to discuss cases. Right now, on the wall above the table hung a map covered in small red marker circles and one big red circle. It was a map of the Apex killings.
Angel stared at it a moment, holding very still as reality came crashing right back in on her. And she’d only just managed to push it away, too.
The fact was, Dmitri was still out there, and he still wanted her. And just like that, Angel realized that if she wanted to meet with him, she was going to have to find a way to slip past her would-be bodyguards. Jake and Gabe were probably not going to give her a single moment when she wasn’t with at least one of them. Angel knew that was why Gabe hadn’t blown a gasket when Jake offered to stay at the Vega safe house with her tonight.
She had a crazed psychopathic Apex on her tail, and Malek had given them the heads-up that there might be a second danger milling about out there too. So she was stuck with two well-trained, highly skilled guardians. They won’t let me leave the clan house. And if she managed to somehow convince them otherwise, they absolutely would not allow her more than fifty feet away from them.
So… when exactly had she been planning on meeting Dmitri to accept his offer?
I have to do it right now.
The thought was a horrible one to have just at that moment. It was like taking a bite out of the most delicious Honeycrisp apple ever grown and swallowing it down, only to look down and find half a worm in the impression. She’d just experienced bliss at Jake’s hands. Again. And now for dessert, she was going to give herself to another man.
Nausea hit her hard and fast, and Angel was doubling over. She grasped her knees and tried to breathe through it, careful not to make even the slightest sound. She didn’t want Jake coming to check on her again. But her mind spun. I can’t do this, she thought. Gods help me, I just can’t.
It was just too much. After everything, this was the shit icing on the cake.
But you have to do it.
Her inner voice was as merciless as ever. She supposed it had to be. It had been that way since she was seventeen. If she wasn’t strict with herself, she wouldn’t be strong. And she wanted to be strong. Right now, she absolutely needed to be strong.
Maybe it was good that you had to get dressed after all, she thought whimsically. But that whimsical thought sounded a little hysterical. She had to admit she was hedging closer to crazy town these days.
Angel slowly straightened. She ran a hand through her hair and turned a circle in the kitchen, making sure she was alone and didn’t hear anyone moving around. She’d left Jake lounging in the bed and had given him strict orders not to get out of it. Hopefully he would do as he’d been told.
She reached out with her mind to see if she had any magic at her disposal. Miraculously, there was quite a bit there. She was sure she’d spent all but the tiniest amount of it in her flight from Jake and David, burning through almost all of her grimoire, so to speak. But several pages had been replaced somehow.
Not only were her wards still up, the single-word recall for a transportation portal was still in effect. That didn’t surprise her too much, since she’d developed the spell to last a day or so, just like the mental wards. But what did surprise her was all the extra magic she seemed to have at her disposal. It was almost the way it had been when Cain had healed her. Had… Malek done something to her too? The bite mark on her neck was gone, so maybe he’d healed other aspects of her with whatever he’d done?
She didn’t have time to wonder about it too much. And really, it wasn’t important. What was important was that the magic was there and ready to be used.
Stay focused, Angel.
Angel moved to the coffee pot, loaded it, and switched it on. Jake would probably hear that, and at the very least he would smell it. Then she moved to the drawer that contained the kitchen towels, and she took one out. She folded it several times and placed it over her mouth to muffle her words as much as possible.
Then she spoke the words of an outward silence spell. The magic behaved like noise-canceling headphones to anyone listening, effectively “silencing” a certain area around the spell caster to anyone outside that area. She would still hear herself, but no one else would. More importantly, it would mask the noise the portal would make as it arrived.
After that, she lowered the towel and tossed it back on the counter. Then she spoke the single word necessary to recall her transport spell. It reacted immediately, and as soon as the portal swirled open in front of her, Angel leapt in.
She used more magic to force it shut as rapidly as possible. For a destination, she focused on a location she knew Dmitri would be familiar with. She conjured an image of a certain New York property from her past. Again, knowing Dmitri would find her anywhere she went, she sent her instructions into the portal: Take me to the Harlem Bridge.
The portal whisked her away.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Angel toppled sideways when the portal transporting her to New York gave a sudden lurch. A buzzing in her ears erupted to life, and vertigo took over. At once, she fell to her knees, unable to even cry out, much less understand what was happening. She shut her eyes tight to try to push the vertigo back, but it was stubborn. She was tempted to use magic to do it, but casting magic from inside a portal was risky business, and she’d already pushed that envelope once with her truncated transport spell.
Shit, maybe that’s what’s wrong, she thought suddenly. Maybe her magic was backfiring, and the universe was punishing her for tossing the laws of physics in the blender and pushing puree.
But when she looked up, she found the colors on the walls were shifting, settling into a whole new set. Angel stared at the new hues. She’d seen those particular colors so often over the last several years, she recognized them at once. The portal was taking her to her apartment.
“What the fuck?” she muttered, trying to get to her feet. She was so unsteady, so off-balance, she immediately fell again, so she closed her eyes and simply waited. There was nothing else for it.
A few seconds later, the portal exit swirled open, and Angel rushed through as quickly as possible, not even stopping to look first before she jumped out. She hit the floor and stayed there on her knees a moment, head down, just trying to get her bearings. She noticed the carpet had been switched out for a new one of the same color. It was soft and plush beneath her hands as she closed her eyes and willed the vertigo to go away.
It rapidly receded, disappearing completely within a few seconds. But then Angel noticed something else was off. She felt tired suddenly. And weak. Light-headed. But it was far too sudden to be her body’s natural reaction to exhaustion or anemia.
And then there was… a certain redolence in the air. She slowly inhaled and caught the scent of leather. And of men’s cologne. Heat flooded her, rapidly chased by ice-cold, as if fingers of frost were scraping along her insides.
She recognized that
cologne. Gods help her, she recognized the unique way it blended with the scent of leather and made her head fill with thoughts of night and passion.
But that wasn’t possible. No, it isn’t possible, she insisted.
Unable to stop herself because she was unable to process what she was sensing, Angel slowly lifted her head and looked up.
“Hello Angel.”
The world stopped turning, and Angel’s head filled with the sound of screeching tires, funeral bells, and people crying. She saw the bloody handlebars of a motorcycle, and a crunched fuel tank.
But he was there. Sitting on her couch, legs spread confidently, shoes planted, leather sports coat open to reveal a designer button-up shirt perfectly tailored over muscles even more pronounced than they’d been fifteen years ago. He was there. With his black hair that used to be brown. And his gray eyes that were now so light, they were eerie. And his skin that had once been fair but was even lighter now.
He was different but he was right there in front of her. It was him anyway. Same face, same lips, same strong chin, same undefeatable air.
And he wasn’t alone. Two men stood behind the couch, one to each side of him. Angel had never seen them before, but they watched her with cold, keen eyes.
In the distance, thunder rolled. A storm was coming.
“You haven’t aged a day, you know that?” he said, shaking his handsome head as he casually reclined with his arms stretched over the tops of the couch cushions. His voice had changed too. It was deeper now, and a little more hoarse. Something about it sent a strange vibration over Angel’s nerve endings.
“Of course,” he continued, coming off the couch back to place his elbows on his knees and gaze at her through the tops of his too-light eyes. “I’ve been watching you all this time. So to me, you haven’t changed at all.”
In Angel’s mind, she was trapped in a movie scene. She almost even heard music playing. It was eerie and foreboding, and it colored the scene with all the gothic colors of that impossible culmination in the film that makes the audience gape at the screen, mouths open, voices silent.
Monsters, Book One: The Good, The Bad, The Cursed Page 32
