“I’m not gay, I’m bisexual, remember? I like girls too,” Lake lied.
“Why not find a girlfriend then?” Hawt Chocolate bent backwards and lifted a leg. Lake was surprised nothing popped out of his thong.
“Haven’t met a girl I wanted to date,” Lake lied again. He hated how Tyler threw the fact that he’d never had a normal relationship in his face.
All his life, Lake had been a loner. From kindergarten through middle school and into high school, his classmates had avoided him. Only bullies interacted with him, and that was to shove him into lockers or his head into toilets. The isolation stung, but he refused to admit it. Instead, he pretended it was his choice to turn to prostitutes and strippers for contact. It was how he had met Tyler. He had snuck into the club and saw him dancing. Afterward, he asked Tyler if he could go home with him. They headed to Tyler’s plush apartment where Lake gave him a blowjob, and then Tyler passed out from drinking too much. The next night, Lake returned to the club. He twisted Tyler’s pity for him into something that could pass for a weak excuse of a relationship.
But his time with Tyler was ticking down. Already Tyler was finding ways to avoid him, screening calls, and taking other men home for sex. It wouldn’t be long before Lake was alone again.
“Why can’t I see you tonight?” Desperation had him asking the question he already knew the answer to. Maybe if he played tonight right he could prolong the inevitable. Have a little more time with another person and not feel like a waste of space.
Hawt Chocolate dipped down to Lake’s level. Alcohol and weed were thick on his breath. “I’m going to a… party.”
“You mean you’re going to an orgy? Don’t treat me like an idiot.”
Hawt Chocolate shrugged. “You have a problem with that?”
“It seems unsafe. You don’t know where those men’s dicks have been.”
“You’re too uptight.” Hawt Chocolate snorted. “If you’re worried about me, come.”
“No, I’ll pass.” Lake shuddered involuntarily.
“Suit yourself.” A satisfied smirk tugged at Hawt Chocolate’s lips. “Watch out. Here comes the boss lady.”
The owner of the club, Mistress Valerie, stalked toward them. Lake jumped onto the stage and darted behind the curtain, dodging dancers preparing to perform. He was almost to the emergency exit when someone yanked him back.
Mistress Valerie scowled at Lake as Ricky dragged him to her. Tight black leather pushed her breasts up until they almost spilled out. A whip hung at her bony hip—a constant companion. Being close to her sent shivers racing down his spine and turned his stomach. There was something evil about her; he felt it deep down where the cold lay inside him.
“I told you never to come back here.” Her red lips pulled back as if to snarl at him. He could imagine her ripping someone’s throat out like a rabid dog. “I don’t need you distracting my workers.”
“I just came to watch Ty…er, Hawt Chocolate. He’s my favorite.”
“Of course you did.”
Lake held out his money. “I’m a paying customer.”
Mistress Valerie snatched the bills from Lake and tucked them into her cleavage. Ricky held Lake back when he protested, keeping him out of reach. She gave him a stiff smile that was more like a grimace, and nodded to Ricky. “Escort this unruly customer to the door.”
Lake didn’t fight as Ricky picked him up and proceeded to throw him outside. He landed on his shoulder with a painful thud. Wincing, he climbed to his feet and brushed the gravel off himself. The people in the line gawked at his ungraceful exit. Only a small group of young men reacted with concern. One guy reminded him of the star football player in his grade. Tall, broad shouldered, baby blue eyes, and styled blond hair. Lake had no doubt the guy had a perfect smile and dimples.
Lake plastered a cocky grin on his face and met the blond’s gaze. “Have a great time tonight.”
Chapter Two
Gabe appeared like a phantom through the smoke, swatting at it and coughing. “Aren’t cigarettes banned from public buildings?”
Michael smirked. “I think breaking the law is the least of this club’s worries.” He turned back to the thin women standing at the end of his sword. “Where are the others?”
The wide-eyed look lasted only a second. Her lips peeled back from her teeth, canines elongating as her skin darkened to a deep shade of red. She shifted into a crouch, taloned hands curling into fists. Her answer was a hiss.
She recoiled when Michael pressed the flaming blade to her chin, making her skin sizzle. “Where are your siblings and offspring hiding? Tell me now.”
Fallen angels weren’t the only beings Michael and his brothers hunted. They were also tasked with finding their half-breed offspring as well. The children lived among humanity, unaware of the darkness flowing through their veins until their Fallen parent found them and showed them the evil power they possessed.
The one before Michael was a Fallen. The telltale sign was her true appearance. Her carefully constructed mask now gone, she was nothing more than a walking skeleton that hinted at a beauty now lost to darkness. Tattered and dirty feathers clung to the bony protrusions on her back—the remains of once magnificent wings. Her sunken eyes churned with malice.
“She’s not cooperating,” Joe said.
“Guess we have to do it the hard way,” Gabe added.
“Damn. I was hoping for an easy night,” Zade said, and sighed dramatically.
“Guess so,” Michael agreed. “Tear this place apart, find the rest and destroy them.”
“What about you?” Zade asked.
Michael turned to the Fallen before him. “I’ll take care of her.”
She snarled. “You can’t win. We’ll find a way to break free. I will come back!”
Michael closed his eyes briefly. “This is my duty. I will send you back to where you belong.” He separated her head from her body with one clean stroke. A touch of his sword reduced the corpse to nothing. “Every time.”
Stifling silence filled the room as Michael moved among the overturned tables and chairs. Most of the patrons had fled when the fight broke out. Every now and then, he stopped to incinerate a Fallen body with his sword. He found his brothers gathered in a small office at the front of the club. A huge bouncer slumbered on the floor, his face twisted into a sinister smile. A human, Michael sensed. Fallen possessed a coldness that gave him chills when he was near them. He knelt next to the body and pressed his fingers to the man’s forehead. Goose bumps crawled up his arm and violent images flashed through his mind. He yanked his hand away as if shocked.
“What is it, Mikey?” Zade asked.
“It’s like he is stuck in a dream,” Michael replied.
“Can you wake him?”
“Not sure.” Michael touched the bouncer’s face and the images flooded his thoughts again: men and women tied up, their faces contorted in pain. He pulled away, blowing out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to wake him, and she’s back in Hell now.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” Zade said softly.
A lump rose up Michael’s throat. “We should have searched for victims first. We know how ruthless the Fallen are. They use people as pawns all the time. We could have saved him.”
“There’s a chance he’ll wake before—” Joe started.
“Before he starves to death? He is stuck. Helpless,” Michael snapped. He sucked in a breath. “Sorry.”
“We understand,” Zade assured him. “We’ll put him somewhere safe and call 911. Maybe with time, whatever she did to him will wear off and he’ll wake. There’s still hope.”
Joe and Gabe nodded in agreement. Michael smiled, grateful for his brothers. They not only fought together, but also cried and mourned together. They helped each other carry the burden of their duty. Without his brothers, he’d never be able to do the job God had assigned to him. He needed the indestructible bond that had been forged the day they were born.
They carried the s
leeping bouncer outside. Michael arranged the man’s hands over his chest while Zade called 911.
“I’ll pray for you,” Michael said before rising and facing his brothers. “Let’s finish and get out of here before the police arrive.”
***
Laughter boomed across the small café. People turned to look at the four young men in the corner booth. Zade banged his fist against the table while Michael clutched his sides. Joe wiped tears from his eyes. Gabe was the only one keeping himself under control. He smirked at the other three.
“You guys are idiots,” he said.
Michael stopped laughing but couldn’t repress his smile. There wasn’t enough joy in his life. Their duty dominated every waking moment. He took a swig of coffee. “We need to do this more.”
“What? Have coffee? I’m game.” Joe cackled.
“No. Laugh,” Michael replied. “We don’t get to do it much.”
They fell silent. Michael watched his brothers, knowing their thoughts were on the path their lives had taken. Their waitress, Anna, stopped to refill their coffees. She offered them a kind smile before turning her attention to other customers. Joe broke the solemn moment.
“I wouldn’t change a Goddamn thing.”
“Jophiel,” Gabe sighed.
“Hopeless,” Zade added.
Michael smiled. “I wouldn’t change a thing either.”
Zade shook his shoulders. “The wings could be a little smaller. Can’t unfurl them without hitting something and knocking it over.”
Michael chuckled. That was true. The wings were bulky, the cause of many broken items, and, naturally, a few accidents when they attempted to fly. Joe had broken a leg jumping off their hometown church’s steeple. Their departure was delayed a couple of months as a result. Michael hadn’t minded. He used the time to prepare for their journey and learn what he could about the Fallen they were tasked with hunting.
They paid for their coffees and left Anna a generous tip. Money was never an issue. On their journey they always found someone who would give shelter or money. He was certain those people were chosen by God to aid them.
Spring was in the air as they left the Sunshine Café. The day was cloudless and warm, pigeons cooed and waddled to avoid pedestrians, and cars glided down the streets at a leisurely pace. It reminded Michael of another thing absent in their lives: peace. Like the laughter, they rarely got to enjoy happiness, too busy immersing themselves in violence and chaos. Michael sighed, taking the chance to relish the moment. At nightfall it would end.
“That kid looks familiar.”
Gabe’s voice drew Michael’s attention. He quickly spotted the person in question. The boy looked seventeen or eighteen. His skin was pale, almost to the point that it didn’t look healthy. A mass of black curls offset his white skin and hung in his eyes. A faded black shirt hung loosely over his thin frame. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. Holes punctured his jeans, and his shoes were scuffed and worn.
“He was being kicked out of the club last night. Must have got caught trying to sneak in,” Zade replied. “Looks like a prime target for a Fallen.”
“Yeah,” Michael murmured. His breath stopped when the teen looked up and directly at him. Bitterness filled the teen’s chocolate-brown eyes, flashing like lightning. Anger and resentment whispered to Michael and made him shudder as if suddenly cold.
“Mike?” Joe’s voice shattered the connection and released Michael.
He shook his head. “Yeah, let’s get going. Long night ahead.”
“Metatron say something?” Gabe asked.
“No,” Michael sighed. “He hasn’t said anything since the other night. We’re gonna be here awhile, though. Lots of Fallen.”
Joe stretched. “On to the hunt!”
Gabe slapped Joe on the back. “Bring it on, baby. That’s half the fun.”
Michael glanced over his shoulder as they headed down the sidewalk. The spot the teen had occupied was empty. His heart constricted as he remembered his hate-filled eyes. I’ll pray for you.
***
A roar filled the night, echoing through the trailer park and intruding on Lake’s small bedroom. He clutched his pillow to his ears, but that did nothing to drown out the sound of the car’s engine. Did it ever occur to his neighbors that some people might actually be trying to sleep? The engine roared again and a dog added its bark to the noise. A voice hollered in victory.
Of course not. Why sleep when you can rebuild a car and give it a whirl?
The engine continued to rev, competing with the cheering. Lake forced his eyes shut, hoping fatigue would drag him back to sleep despite the noise. But he stayed awake. Finally, he climbed out of bed and headed down the hallway. A late night infomercial was playing on the TV as he crept into the living room. Melody was passed out in her recliner, a half-empty glass sitting next to her on the floor.
Or half full, Lake told himself as he grabbed it. The alcohol tingled as it slid down his throat. He set the glass back down and went in search of more. Melody kept her alcohol hidden. Many of her drunken rages had been about him stealing her booze. Most of the time, her accusations were false. Not that he would admit when she was right. He knew where she stashed her booze and used the knowledge sparingly.
He picked the one with the highest proof. The golden liquid burned his tongue, causing tears to spring to his eyes. He stifled a cough and forced another gulp down. A few more drinks and the world wobbled when he stood. Perfect. He staggered back to his room and collapsed on the bed. Soon, the alcohol dragged him into blissful sleep.
***
Someone screeching forced Lake into consciousness. His eyes throbbed when he opened them. He hadn’t drunk that much, had he?
Melody towered over him, scowling at him like he was a puppy that had peed on a new rug. “Get up.”
Lake rolled over, pain shooting across his back. Using alcohol to sleep always caused him to change. He’d pass out looking normal and wake up with wings. Carefully maneuvering himself so as not to bend the leathery appendages, he turned to his mother. “What?”
“Don’t give me lip.” Melody eyed him with contempt. “You’re just like your father. No sense of responsibility while I slave away.”
“You’re on disability.”
Melody raised her hand as if to strike, but didn’t. “Ungrateful brat! Who feeds you? Keeps a roof over your head? Gives you money so you can buy clothes?”
“You.”
“Me,” Melody snapped. “If I had my way, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”
“Too bad you didn’t throw me into a dumpster when I was born and save yourself the trouble of raising me,” Lake shot back. “But then you wouldn’t be getting those nice checks you use to buy more booze, would ya?”
Melody trembled with anger, but didn’t dispute him. How could she? It was the truth. She spun unsteadily on her heels, tripping as she stalked to the door. “Get rid of those things on your back and get ready for school.” The door slammed shut, causing a book to tumble off the dresser.
Running his talons through his curls, Lake focused on getting rid of those things on his back. Normal looking, he gathered semi-clean clothing and found his backpack. Slinging it over one shoulder, he trudged through the trailer. “Bye, Mom, see you after school.”
Melody grunted in reply. A drink was already in her hand. Lake bit back a comment that would have gotten him into more trouble, and headed out the door. A group was gathered at the trailer park entrance, waiting for the school bus. They glanced at him and then shuffled away.
Why did his father abandon him before he was born? Why leave him in this dump?
Maybe you’re not worth it, a voice whispered. He wanted nothing to do with his freak-of-nature son.
Lake scoffed. A girl eyed him suspiciously and scooted closer to the others. He didn’t need some internal voice telling him he was unwanted. The looks he received from everyone told him that.
Loser. Dork. Worthless. The
list of insults thrown at him was never ending and the words cut deep. He struggled to keep his head up, reminding himself of the truth people didn’t know. One day, while scouring the Internet for answers as to why he sprouted bat-like wings, he stumbled upon the answer. The information had been sparse, but he pieced it together.
He was a Nephilim—the son of an angel. Hardly a freak of nature. If anything, Lake was divine.
The bus pulled up to the stop with a groan, and everyone climbed up the dirty steps. A foot caught his as he headed down the narrow aisle, and he flew forward. Laughter mocked him as he righted himself. He ducked his head to hide the red crawling up his cheeks and the tears in his eyes. Finding an empty seat, he slid as close to the window as possible, clutching his bag and reminding himself, Their laughter doesn’t matter. I’m part angel.
As the trailer park disappeared from sight, replaced by run-down city streets, the humiliation faded from Lake’s mind. His thoughts turned to the blond man he had seen outside the club and again yesterday. Tyler had blown him off, and he had been attempting to nurse his hurt feelings. He had also been avoiding going home and dealing with Melody. For a moment, when his gaze had met the blond’s, the world stopped. Everything about Lake was laid out like dirty laundry. He felt shamed by the amount of anger he had displayed. Never in his life had he felt so exposed. When the man’s friends distracted him, Lake took the chance to flee.
Lake stared at his reflection in the bus window. He was part angel. That meant he was better than the blond. He mustn’t forget.
The bus arrived at the school, the breaks squeaking. Lake followed his classmates into the one-story building. Laughter and chatter filled the hallway, but he felt like a bubble surrounded him, stopping the cheer from reaching him. At his locker, he opened the door carefully. A few times, there had been surprises that blew up in his face. He wasn’t eager to spend the day covered in paint.
“Hey, River.”
Lake braced for impact, but no matter how prepared he was or how many times it happened, being slammed into a locker hurt. He picked himself up, rubbing his shoulder, and turned to the two bullies, Jason and Vincent Hawthorn. From kindergarten to present day, the brothers had made it their mission in life to torment him.
Michael (Path of Angels Book 1) Page 2
