Angel Unleashed

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Do not give in.

  Look away if you have to.

  Avery managed to hold to those two inner commands for a few seconds before she spoke again.

  “I’ve lost something that I’ve been trying to find for decades. My search has been exhaustive and has finally brought me back to London.”

  He waited for her to go on.

  “I had all but given up before being called back to London. I feel close to my goal here and have to give this quest one last shot.”

  Avery saw how the word quest affected the man across from her. For all his glorious Knightness, the guy wasn’t so difficult to read. His extended life span had been based on that same concept. Quest.

  “How much do you know about me?” he asked. “How do you know about Blood Knights?”

  “I was privy to that information early on, from a source I can’t disclose.”

  “Can’t, or won’t disclose?”

  “It’s the same thing, in the end.”

  He took a step toward her. “You know my story, and I can’t know yours?”

  “I doubt you’d want to help me if I told you my story.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “To some.”

  “Are you a demon?”

  Avery shook her head. “That much I will swear to.”

  “Then you have the advantage, I’m thinking,” he said.

  “Can you live with that for a while longer and still help?”

  He smiled. “I thought you said you knew me.”

  His smile brought back the deep internal flutter she had experienced earlier. There was no hint of treachery in his expression and no sign of his fangs. Avery wanted to return the smile but wasn’t sure she remembered how. Pain had a tendency to darken even the lightest moments. Although this man was part of that pain, there was a chance he could help her rise above the agony of her existence, and at this late hour, set things straight.

  If that wasn’t to happen, and things didn’t go that way, what would fill the empty space inside her that pain occupied? What would happen to the memories carved into her body and her mind? Without those memories, nothing would matter. He wouldn’t matter.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” he noted when the silence stretched.

  Don’t you see it, Blood Knight? See me?

  What kind of creature has white blood in their veins?

  How many beings walking this Earth have one boot on the ground and the other in the heavens?

  Doesn’t my skin tell you something important?

  Are you looking deep enough? Hard enough?

  Do you not see yourself in me?

  Her story? Until the twenty-first century, when whole sections of the human race had gone through phases with names like Goth and cyberpunk, she’d had to stay completely hidden. After that, when pretty much anything worked, fitting in was easier. Her white skin was even envied by a select few. Dressed in black leather, she could skate through crowds if she had to, if those crowds occupied the outskirts of places where normal people gathered.

  Parts of her story encapsulated this Knight’s story, as well. Neither of them could ever really fit in. The magnificent Blood Knight was hugging the shadows, just as she was. They were freaks because of their unique kind of beauty.

  When she looked up, he had raised a hand as if expecting her to take it. As if he was tossing her a lifeline to a better place.

  Go to hell, was the response on the tip of her tongue. But that was overruled by another reaction. Because, God, yes, she wanted to take that hand, touch him, believe in him. She wanted those things badly enough to taste the sweet irony of her own stubborn objections. Way back, she had trusted in the power of good, and in those who wielded goodness like a weapon.

  The Knight spoke again. “If you allow me to help with this quest of yours, you’ll be doing me a favor, you know. Things can get pretty boring around here. Same old fights. Endless hours. More and more monsters.”

  Body rebelling, mind reeling with comebacks so indecent they’d send this Knight away forever... Avery took a breath and closed her eyes. Another surprise, one to top all of the others, was hearing herself say, “Yes. Okay. Help me.”

  Afraid to see his reaction, she kept her eyes shut, figuring a thank-you would have been going too damn far, even if this Blood Knight expected it.

  Chapter 8

  “Good,” Rhys said, though he wasn’t sure his new companion wholeheartedly agreed with what she had just committed to. On the plus side, she didn’t run away. When her eyes reopened, she turned her head to listen to the sounds he also heard.

  “Do we fight what’s coming our way first?” she asked. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Keep the streets safe?”

  “It’s what I choose to do,” Rhys corrected. “You feel the monsters coming?”

  “Like a foul wave.”

  “Maybe facing more of them isn’t what you choose to do.”

  “I’ve had my moments with the monsters. Far too many.”

  Was that the cause of her scars? Rhys wondered.

  “So we turn back this tide and then we talk about your search,” he said.

  “Yes. Then we talk.”

  He walked to the edge of the roof and peered over, joined by this new, unlikely companion whose body language made it clear she wasn’t going to get too close to him.

  Go ahead, Rhys thought. Keep your distance a while longer.

  “Ten of them,” she noted, her attention fixed on the street. “Vampires. Not so young this time. The odor is fouler, stronger.”

  “Ten is ten too many to be roaming the streets all at once,” Rhys said.

  With her silhouette half hidden by her fall of fair hair, his companion gave him a sideways glance. “How many can you take?”

  “All ten. How about you?”

  “I could leave you one, if you like.”

  Rhys grinned. “Very generous.” He waved at the street below them. “On the count of three?”

  “Hell, why wait?” she said, and jumped.

  They’d been three stories up. Rhys landed in a crouch on the pavement with one hand on the asphalt. She was beside him. Standing in unison, they looked both ways to make sure they hadn’t been seen and then took off at a jog toward the oncoming gang of vamps.

  Lucky for Londoners, it was the wee hours of the night, or morning, depending on which way they looked at it. Most people would be tucked safely in their beds. The few roaming around at 3:00 a.m. would have a hard lesson to learn if they weren’t careful, and if a Guardian hadn’t been watching this particular area.

  The woman next to him waved a hand upward, indicating that a couple of the fanged horde had climbed drainpipes to reach the higher floors of the building beside them. Nodding, Rhys headed after those beasts. Climbing as easily as the bloodsuckers had, he reached the roof in seconds, hoping his companion would be able to handle things on the ground until he returned.

  Two bloodless faces peered at him speculatively as he approached. Older vampires, but not ancient. Experienced. Hungry. Dull black eyes showed no hint of recognition when fixed on him. Word had not yet spread to this nest about the Guardian in their midst, a being with fangs who came from a larger gene pool.

  “Not a good night to be out in this part of town,” Rhys said. “Tonight there are two of us to welcome you.”

  Neither of the bloodsuckers responded with an audible comeback. To Rhys, their thoughts were like waves of chatter. Too hungry to remain idle, both vampires rushed toward him with their fangs exposed. Their taloned hands slashed at the air.

  Rhys had the first vamp on the ground before the second reached him, holding it firmly with a boot on the bloodsucker’s bony chest. The damn thing snapped and squirmed, struggling to free itself. In
this state, the beast could have butchered any human in its path.

  Rhys put the vampire out of its misery with a stake to the chest in time to face the second attacker. He was doing the people of London and these creatures a favor. No decent human being would have wanted this kind of fanged afterlife existence.

  Vampire number two was wily and halted a few steps from Rhys, taking stock of its formidable opponent. Mouth opening and closing as if snapping at the air, it issued a shrill cry.

  “Won’t help. The good folks around here need protection, and at the moment I’m their best bet.”

  The vampire turned its attention from Rhys to the street below them, as if aware of some new threat. Beyond the echo of its cry, Rhys heard what the monster had heard—the sharp repeat of a weapon going off, followed closely by an echoing howl.

  Recognizing the sound, the vampire took off in a smear of speed that would have rendered it invisible to any human that had been looking. Rhys caught the creature by its coattails near the roof’s rim and spun the bloodsucker around.

  “How many more of you are there?” Rhys demanded, his face close to the death mask that was the vampire’s face.

  Mad with bloodlust and the need to escape, the vamp lunged sideways, biting at Rhys’s right arm. With a swift motion born of decades of self-defense, Rhys flung the vampire over the edge of the roof and lunged after it.

  He needn’t have bothered giving chase, as it turned out. Funnels of gray ash met him on the ground, all that was left of that particular monster.

  Standing in a rainfall of ash stood his petite, blue-eyed warrior maiden, silver blade in hand. Rhys saw no other vampires. Their foul scent had dissipated to a faint, odorous stench.

  The pale warrior’s dark-rimmed blue eyes met his.

  “All eight?” Rhys asked, after a beat.

  “Nine,” she corrected. “I’m assuming you got the other one?”

  That was the moment—as Rhys faced the immortal who was looking more like an avenging angel than anything else—that he figured her story had to be one hell of a tale, and that he’d be damned if he’d let her go without hearing all of it.

  And maybe he wouldn’t let her go, even then.

  * * *

  The way this Knight looked at her had changed, Avery noted with a flare of internal heat. Curiosity had been replaced with something else. His expression was unreadable.

  “Really,” he said soberly. “Who the hell are you?”

  He didn’t wait for the answer she wouldn’t have given him anyway. Sirens were fast approaching. London’s police force was on the way to an incident no doubt called in by the two mortals who had escaped earlier from the vamp attack. Since gunfire was rare for these cops, Avery figured someone else in the area carried concealed.

  Her Blood Knight turned, gesturing for her to accompany him. “Time to go.”

  “We have company,” Avery said, striding after him. “The furry kind.”

  “The moon’s not full enough for werewolves to prowl.”

  “I heard...”

  “Yes. One of them, or some of them, don’t need a moon to instigate their changes. Lucky for us, those guys are usually the good ones. But then, you probably knew that already.”

  She didn’t confess to knowing a lot more than that about werewolves. In the past, she’d taken a Werelover or two who’d gotten off on her multitude of scars and didn’t try to keep her tethered to any kind of impossible relationship. Weres were susceptible to a state called imprinting with their mates, which was their version of unbreakable chains. She had known better than to get involved with that. The whole chain thing was grossly unappealing.

  Her companion was leading her away from the ash-dusted street and down what she assumed was another road that was often unused at this hour. Confident in his direction, he didn’t slow until they had reached an intersection with two alleys branching off. At that juncture, he stopped and turned to listen for sounds indicating they might have been followed.

  “Nothing is after us,” she said.

  Satisfied, he nodded his head.

  “I’ve always wondered where a Blood Knight would live,” Avery said, scanning the alleys. “This dark place isn’t what I would have envisioned for one of the golden few.”

  His gaze came back to her. “Golden few?”

  “Isn’t that what you are, and what you call yourselves?”

  “Only our quest was golden.”

  She waved a hand. “Is one of these alleys yours?”

  “One of them leads to the residence of a friend of mine.”

  “You have friends?”

  She hadn’t meant to emphasize that, but it came as a surprise that any of the magnificent Seven would form any kind of relationship beyond their bond with each other.

  Her outburst had amused him. He was grinning again, with the kind of smile that would have made a thousand female hearts thunder and that came unreasonably close to doing the same to hers.

  It was a fact that he was too good-looking. Not only had this guy scored on that, he had the ability to find humor in a bleak world. After countless years of behind-the-scenes servitude to the unsuspecting masses, without so much as a single thank-you from those he protected, this Blood Knight could smile and enjoy himself.

  Rhys was such a simple name to capture all of that.

  Avery’s gaze lingered slightly too long on his handsome face before she looked away.

  He said, “I have a few friends scattered here and there. Don’t you?”

  Can’t lie, and he knows it.

  “Nope. Just you,” Avery replied, hoping he’d let it go with that.

  Bless him, he did.

  “Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

  “I’ll find one.”

  “Would you be comfortable bunking with one of my acquaintances?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “You owe me some explanations, I believe.”

  “Don’t you sleep?”

  “I do. Mostly during daylight hours, since darkness tends to bring out the worst in both people and predators.”

  He was holding back an addition to that statement. Would he have confessed how difficult it was to rest after having experienced brief moments of a more eternal resting state, once upon a time? A sentiment with which she might have concurred if they had truly been friends, and if she knew what that kind of friendship actually meant. In the past, she had substituted sex for friendship. She had used the concept of a climax as an artificial path to a few moments of closeness with a warm body.

  Avery wasn’t sure she understood this Knight and what he wanted, other than more answers from her. As with the Weres, had the sight of her scars turned him on? Made him want to protect her? Had that kiss kindled a flame that would be hard to extinguish?

  That damn internal flutter was back, this time in his honor.

  I feel it, too. That kindling of an inner flame. Nothing can happen between us, my fine Knight. Vows and oaths can’t be erased as easily as that.

  “You make me anxious,” she said.

  His grin faded. Soberly, he said, “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

  “We can go our separate ways,” Avery suggested. “Carry on.”

  “You asked for my help in locating something.”

  “I accepted your offer. I didn’t request anything,” she pointed out.

  “Same thing in my way of thinking. And you kissed me to seal the bargain.”

  The back of Avery’s neck prickled. Sparks were tickling her insides. She wanted to argue with his remark, and couldn’t. She could not lie. She had kissed him back. The fact that she had liked that kiss made this unlikely liaison doubly dangerous to her ancient vows and promises. Staring at this guy produced warning signals that shouldn’t
be ignored.

  Their chemistry had been immediate, and that was just too bad. How could she fall victim to the Blood Knight’s allure when she had helped to create it? Maybe she was attracted to him because of the tenderness in his eyes, she who had been without comfort for as long as she could remember.

  Her more-than-passing interest in the tall, sexy creature was her fault, through no fault of her own. No one in their right mind would have been able to resist him.

  Tell him the truth and he will go away.

  There was another scenario vying for her attention.

  Tell him what his Makers did, and the truth might take away his ongoing goals when, as it turns out, the world needs him and his brethren to help keep the peace.

  Facing the same old dilemma made Avery want to scream. The look in Rhys’s eyes made her want to repeat that kiss.

  “Yes. All right,” Avery admitted. “I did kiss you.”

  “If you go, there might not be another moment like that,” he warned. “And since you think me rude already, let me just say I’d like a redo, without a bunch of vampires interrupting.”

  For what felt to Avery like the first time during all her days on Earth, she let in the warmth he exuded. She breathed in his scent and dared to close her eyes in his company, trusting this man when she had never trusted another living soul.

  Light to light.

  Blood to blood.

  She had always wanted him. Only him. She had dreamed over and over of having a moment like this, and how it would go.

  Her unspoken secrets stuck in her throat because he didn’t deserve the conflicts those truths could inflict, and hurting the innocent went against the very core of her nature.

  She looked up to find him standing close to her. No touching, just a physical closeness made to seem more intimate by the bright beam of his blue eyes.

  “Stay,” he said. “For now. Tell me the things you’re withholding and let me be the judge of how I’ll respond. Let me help you find what you seek, if that will ease your mind.”

  Magic words. Stay. Help. Ease your mind. Avery believed them. She believed him.

  “Your friend with the place to stay might not like the sudden appearance of someone like me.” She refused to hold his gaze, confused by the desire to have this immortal, body and soul, right there in this spot, and get it over with.