“Um, food.”
Sin rolls his eyes. “My knowledge of humans is not that limited. Sandwiches? Tacos? Pad Thai? The Bureau has accounts at a handful of local restaurants, and there is a taco truck not too far from here.”
“I’m always up for tacos. What do you eat? Besides arousal.” This is as close to an honest conversation as we’ve had since I started, and though it’s superficial and silly, I need to find some way to connect with him or this is never going to work.
“I enjoy tacos.” The corner of his mouth turns up in what might be considered a smile—in some other fucked up universe—and he logs in to the Bureau’s computer system to pull up our case notes. “The truck I am particularly fond of opens in two hours. Shall we see what we can find on Jacinda while we wait?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, finally feeling a spark of hope that maybe this partnership won’t go down in flames.
Thirteen
Sin
Across the conference room table, Zoe fiddles with a beaded bracelet she pulled off her right wrist an hour ago. It seems to calm her—this repetitive motion—and if I am honest, the quiet clicking of the beads helps me focus as well.
Something has changed between us since she defended me in front of the commander. Or perhaps it changed last night and I did not notice.
She sits back in her chair and peers up at the wall of computer screens. While I spent the previous night trying to dull the pain of my memories with alcohol, she pulled the records for every one of Thorn's suspected victims across the country.
The GHOST system is not only for facial recognition. It also runs advanced pattern matching algorithms, and as she stretches her arms over her head, it beeps, and the computer’s melodious voice says, “Report Compiled. Would you like to hear the results?”
“Yes!” Zoe says, jumping up, bracing her hands on the table, and staring at the screens like they hold the answers to all the questions in the known universe. Her zeal is refreshing, and a bit infectious.
“Victims are shifters, witches, and Fae between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-five, with a median age of twenty-eight. All have either green or amber eyes, long hair, and no tattoos at the time of their abductions. All have verified credit card charges at supernatural bars or clubs in the week prior to their disappearance.”
The computer displays the list of bars for every city, and I curse under my breath. Each city has at least three different establishments listed, some as many as five.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the short strands to help me focus. “That does not give us enough information to figure out if Regina is likely to return to Loup Noir or not.” Meeting Zoe’s gaze, I arch a brow. Time to see if she is confident in her own deductive reasoning. “What do your instincts tell you? Will she try somewhere else? Or stay with an establishment she knows?”
“You’re more likely to be able to answer that than I am.” With a frown, Zoe peers at another screen with a list of San Francisco’s twenty-seven separate bars and clubs that cater to the other. “But whatever we decide, I think we should stick together.” Her tone is firm, but her green eyes hold understanding without a hint of judgment.
“If we split up, we can cover more ground.” The last thing I want is her investigating on her own, but nor do I want her to be seen with me. Of the establishments on the list, I count three Regina would never visit, including the poshest bar in the city, the Top of the Mark. If I sent Zoe there, she’d be safe, and I would be able to hunt. Alone.
She spreads her hands flat on the table between us and arches a brow while pinning me with a hard stare. “No. Didn’t you listen to the victim profile, Sin? Regina’s looking for women exactly like me. Green eyes. Long hair. No tattoos. At bars that cater to the other. And I know what she looks like. I can help you trap her. And stop her from taking someone else.”
Fuck.
“I know,” I snap. “For the love of all that is holy in this world, Zoe, I know. Which is why I do not want you with me. You have no defenses against Regina, and if you are caught unawares, you could disappear before I would be able to stop her! I would never forgive myself if I lost you.”
“If you lost me? Sin, you don’t have me to lose. We’re partners. Nothing more.” Wariness infuses her tone, and her denial makes me want to punch something. Or wrap her in my arms.
I push up and start to pace the long, narrow conference room. “If Thorn has escaped Hell, everything he has done since that day is my fault.”
“Why? You sent him to Hell, right? How is what happened afterwards in any way on you?” She rounds the table and, hands on her hips, stops right in front of me. “He’s the bad guy. Well, so’s Regina, but still. You were a victim. It’s time you realize that.”
“I. Helped. Them.” I do not know how else to convey the depths of my guilt. I cannot tell her all the things I did under his influence. All the young women I tortured until they begged me to kill them. All the men I lured into the shadows so Regina could use her charms to compel them into obedience.
“You—“
The air in the room crackles, and I grab Zoe a split second before a blast of percussive energy shoves us both against the wall. Had I been any slower, her head would have hit the large computer screens, and unlike my own corporeal body, hers would have broken in several places.
“Sin?” Zoe’s voice trembles, and she clutches my arms as she blinks hard to focus. “What just happened?”
“Agent Zoe Dawes,” I say as I brush a thick, auburn curl away from her face. “You are about to meet your first archangel.”
Zoe
Pressed against Sin’s sculpted chest, I struggle to process his words. Archangel? My head hurts, like the world’s worst pressure change just sucked all the brain matter from between my ears, and the air in the room feels somehow richer. Like there’s more oxygen than there was a moment ago.
Sin steadies me, staring over my shoulder with such intensity, I’m worried he’s about to lose his shit.
You can do this. Turn around. It’s only one of God’s chosen. No big deal, right?
When I manage to screw up enough courage to move, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. The man—is he a man?—is beautiful. Long golden hair falls in gentle waves to his shoulders, and his skin glows as if dusted with silver and gold. Wings fold against his back, pure white, and his robes move like there’s a gentle breeze swirling around only him.
“Sinclair.”
Shit. Even his voice is perfect. Smooth and low and with a hint of an accent I can’t place.
“Gabriel. This is Zoe.”
The angel turns his golden-eyed gaze to me and frowns. Even that doesn’t mar his beauty. “Interesting,” he says.
Interesting? An angel just materialized out of thin air, and all he has to say is “interesting”?
Sin still has an arm around my waist, and the reassuring weight and his warmth might be the only things keeping me standing.
“Well?” Sin demands. “Is Thorn still Lucifer’s guest?”
“No.” The archangel shakes his head softly and stares up at the ceiling. “And the Almighty is fucking pissed about it.”
Hearing the Angel Gabriel swear is almost too much, and I lean a little more against Sin. “I need to sit down.”
Almost immediately, my partner guides me over to a chair. “I can meet with him alone,” he whispers close to my ear. “Rest.”
“No. I want to hear this. All of it.” He’s bracing his hand on the table, close enough I can smell my soap on his skin. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I look to Gabriel. “I realize you could probably smite me down or something for even asking, but could you give us a minute?”
I expect anger or even shock, but all I see on Gabriel’s face is boredom. “I am an angel, Zoe Dawes. Even if I left the room, I could eavesdrop as simply as you breathe.“
Sin turns my chair so I’m facing him. “What is it?”
“You haven’t told me the whole st
ory.” Shame wells in his blue eyes, now streaked with hints of crimson, and I drape my fingers over his. “I’m human, Sin. I’ll never be able to imagine what you went through. But without the details, I can’t help catch these bastards. Whatever you’re afraid of telling me? Is it that much worse than what these kidnapped men and women are going through right now?”
My partner shakes his head, the reddish cast to his irises deepening. “I should have done more.”
This man—demon—I thought was a complete and total asshole isn’t. Not really. He’s damaged. Scared even. And unable to admit it to anyone. I suppose we both are. Perhaps Commander Eve knew what she was doing when she put us together.
I tighten my hold, and he shifts very subtly closer to me. Something about the action screams for me to reassure him. “Hey. You can do more now. By letting me in. When Gabriel leaves, you’re buying me lunch and we’ll play a few rounds of ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’”
Sin’s full lips twitch for a second until he gets his expression under control, and he nods. “I guarantee I will win every round, Zoe.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“If the two of you are about done?” Gabriel asks, his voice full of disdain, but still oddly addicting. Like he’s a melody I could listen to over and over again. One I could swear I’ve heard before in my dreams. “I have spent most of one of your days down in Lucifer’s den, and I need to rid myself of the stench.
I don’t know what he’s talking about. Gabriel smells like a summer’s day. But I keep my mouth shut as Sin takes a seat next to me. “Our days?” he says. “You have spent too much time in the celestial realm. How are you supposed to serve as a spiritual guide to the devoted if you do not know anything about them?”
“I know enough,” the angel mutters. “But that is not why I am here. Lucifer attempted to hide it, but in the end, he admitted the truth. Hell was breached.”
“Breached? Hell?” My voice rises and cracks, and I’m pretty sure my eyes can’t open any wider. “How the hell—shit. How the fuck did someone breach Hell?”
Gabriel sighs. “A vampire was kidnapped from this realm two years ago and spent many months being punished for crimes he did not commit. When he was rescued, the demon called Thorn and his concubine Regina…” he shakes his head, “I suppose the proper phrase would be ‘hitched a ride.’”
“And no one noticed? What is the Devil doing with his time if not watching over those he is charged to punish for all eternity?” Sin’s tone is strained, and he’s gripping the arm of the chair hard enough I can hear the wood protest.
“Lucifer had…other concerns.” Gabriel, now seated across from us with his wings awkwardly brushing the floor, rests his elbows on the table. “There are forces at work in this realm you know nothing about, Sinclair. Forces that could open the Gates of Hell permanently. Michael, Raphael, and I are going to meet with a small group attempting to stop the uprising, but that is all we know at this time.”
“Fuck,” Sin says sharply. “How many more will die…?”
Gabriel’s face sobers, and his golden eyes turn almost black. “Millions. But that is why you must find these two and send them back where they belong.” Before Sin can say another word, the angel holds up his hand. “You have paid your debt.”
Pulling several sheets of folded paper from within his robes, Gabriel holds Sin’s gaze. “The runes and sigils you will need to bind them and send them to the Underworld. As long as you follow the instructions, there is no danger you will be trapped with them.”
“Give me one good reason why I should trust you,” Sin mutters.
The betrayal in Sin’s voice squeezes my heart in a vise, and though I’ve never considered myself a touchy-feely person, with him, I’m different. More…me somehow. So I do the only thing I can. Under the table, I briefly press my knee to his. A subtle gesture of support.
Gabriel rises and smoothes his hands down his robes. His wings flutter, stretching until they practically touch either side of the room. “We made many mistakes with your case, Sinclair. Some you know. Others…I am bound not to reveal. But Nathanial and I, at least, are in agreement. We have been for some time. Your debt was paid, even though I know you do not agree. Your exile to this realm could have ended years ago, but you chose to stay. If you trust nothing else, trust this. I am on your side.”
With that cryptic statement, the angel turns to me. “Agent Zoe Dawes, there is something about you that does not add up. Something…other. I am not certain what it is, but still, I wish you luck with Sinclair. He can be a handful, but he is a good man.”
Before I can respond, what feels like a percussion grenade pressurizes the entire room. My heart hammers against my chest, and I’m so dizzy, I want to throw up. I can’t move until Sin pulls me against him, his fingers threading through my hair and his lips brushing my ear. “Just breathe, Zoe. I have you now.”
Fourteen
Sin
Zoe is shaken after Gabriel’s visit, and the memories the archangel stirred in me leave me desperate to see the sun. “You will feel better after you eat something,” I say as I save our research and shut down the conference room computers.
“I’ll feel better when shit like that stops surprising me,” she mutters and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Damn. I don’t suppose there’s any aspirin in this place?”
I can sense her pain, and though I do not think she will allow it, I am capable of taking it away. “My talents can help. Will you trust me?” Offering her my hand, I wait, and after a beat, she nods, but the look in her eyes is anything but certain.
“What would you have to do?”
“I can attempt to convince your mind to ignore the pain. Gabriel’s presence triggered something very similar to what you call a migraine. It will pass in a few hours, perhaps a day at most.”
Zoe chews on her lower lip. “You’d be manipulating my thoughts.”
“Not exactly. Your autonomic nervous system only. Not your mind.”
She needs more reassurance. We have been partnered less than forty-eight hours, and though Gabriel confirmed my belief that there is something other about her, we are very different. She is the Bureau’s first human agent. Or, at least the first to make it through more than a single hour. The poor male first recruited has been in a mental institution for a decade now.
“I hold very little in this life dear, Zoe. My brother. My freedom. I swear on both of them, I will only ease your pain.”
“Okay. But if I find out you tried to hypnotize me into clucking like a chicken, I will find a way to murder you,” she says as she gives me her hand.
“I would expect nothing less.” Releasing the tight control I keep on my abilities, I hold Zoe’s gaze and let my mind seek out the source of her discomfort. Given enough time and strength, I could cure her migraine completely, but masking the symptoms so she can heal on her own will not drain much of my energy. Though by tomorrow, I will be forced to seek out several willing donors.
“Oh.” Zoe sighs as I convince her mind the pain is gone. “That’s amazing.”
I wish I could tell her my true nature. That the relief she’s feeling now does not come from my incubus talents, but from divine influence. Trust takes time, and if we are to find Thorn and Regina, I cannot risk fracturing what small amount we have built with honesty.
Breaking our connection leaves me with a distinct sense of loss and an emptiness that threatens to consume me. Fuck. I did not mean to let myself feel...anything for Zoe. Not sympathy. Not understanding. Not respect. Yet, all of those emotions and more run through me, and I push back so quickly, the chair almost topples over. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes,” I say, keeping my tone as firm and professional as I can. “One of the best taco trucks in the city is on the way to Jacinda’s apartment. We will stop for food first.”
A pang of guilt hits me as I cross the threshold. Blindsiding her with our other task today would only destroy her appetite, and she has lost too much wei
ght since her human partner’s death. I hope to all that is holy she is strong enough to handle what comes next.
Zoe
Tacos El Primo doesn’t look like much. A handful of dents on the front bumpers, scuffed white paint with splotches of bright pink, red, green, and blue, and a canopy that’s seen better days. The menu only has four main items on it. Tacos, tortas, mulitas, and a ceviche bowl. Along with the normal accompaniments.
When we have our food—four tacos for me, two for Sin—we sit side by side on concrete benches overlooking the bay. “That’s not much food,” I say with a nod at Sin’s plate.
“I do not technically require food.” The look on his face as he takes a bite of his carne asada taco is like a kid in a candy store. “I simply enjoy it.”
For a split second, I wish I were more like Sin. That I could enjoy things with the zeal I see in others. And then I take a bite. “Mother…fucker,” I say through a mouthful of tortilla, shredded chicken, and salsa. “This is amazing.”
Pride shines in his eyes, and he sits up a little straighter. “I have tried every truck in the city. None of them compare to this.”
“That’s dedication I can respect.” I elbow him gently, but his expression sobers. “What?”
“I spent many centuries deprived of food,” he says quietly. “Now, I choose my meals carefully. All of them.”
“Tell me.”
“You do not truly wish to know.” He takes a sip from his bottle of Coke—the kind with real sugar—and shivers slightly.
“Maybe not. But I think I need to know.” I take another bite, then pull up the hem of my sweater to reveal the two-inch scar from Temple’s bullet. “I spent a week in the hospital. As far as gunshots go, it was pretty…average, I guess. No major organs hit, the wound was a through-and-through. Couple of rounds of antibiotics, fluids, rest…I was supposed to be good as new.”
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