Betrayal

by ML Guida

  She wanted so desperately to believe him, but what if he was wrong? Where was Mattie? “She never hides like this.”

  Edging deeper into the house, no thick red liquid stained her white porcelain tile in the entry way or the hardwood floors in the living room or stairs. Her adobe painted walls in the kitchen and living room were clean, but there was something on her maroon couch. A sinking feeling hit her stomach and her legs wobbled.

  “The couch,” she whispered in a puny child-like voice.

  “What?”

  She pointed. Her green, white, and orange afghan and the Mickey Mouse blanket were balled up in the corner of the sofa and covered a small lump. Scythe looked at her. His jaw set tight and his cheek flexed. “Stay here.”

  For once, she obeyed. Panting, she clasped her hands together tight.

  Scythe walked over to the couch without hesitation. He clutched the blanket in his hand and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”

  Perspiration dripped down her temples. Her breath caught in her lungs and she couldn’t exhale. She nodded. Please, God.

  He yanked back the blankets. A brush of air escaped from her lips. The Direct channel changer, the DVD channel changer and three white leather pillows lay on top of each other, almost as if someone had placed them there.

  “I didn’t leave them there,” she croaked. “I always put the channel changers on top of the TV so I can find them.” She stared into Scythe’s silver eyes. “Who would do this?”

  “I’m going to check upstairs. You—”

  “No, I’m coming with you.”

  Before Scythe could move, Heather darted up the stairs. Scythe’s heavy footsteps pounded after her. Once again, nothing red marred her wooden floors. Hope started form in her mind. Maybe Mattie was asleep. Maybe….

  Heather screamed. Louder than she had ever had. Strong arms gripped her and whirled her around. She dug her nails into Scythe’s chest. Her body trembled. Trying to hold on, not believing what she had seen.

  “I’m sorry,” Scythe whispered. He held her tightly against him, his masculine scent trying to overcome the horror she’d seen, but nothing could block out what she saw on her bed. Mattie! Her poor sweet dog! What kind of person could do that! Hurtful, angry sobs tore through her. She pounded on Scythe’s chest. “Why! Why would anyone do that to her? She never did anything to anyone.” With each word, her beating became harder. “Why? Why? Why?”

  Gripping his arms, she arched her back. “Mattie! Mattie!”

  “Heather, Heather, listen to me.”

  Scythe’s voice cut through her growing hysterics.

  Heather shook her head. She didn’t want to be calm. She wanted to fight. She wanted to kill Blade. Do to him what he had done to her sweet little dog; what he did to her poor sister.

  She broke free from Scythe and darted into her bedroom. Mattie lay on her bed. Blood drenched her white bedspread. Her little tongue hung out of her bleeding mouth, and her wide brown eyes stared up at the ceiling in terror. Someone had repeatedly stabbed her with a sword and left the sword buried in her chest. The weapon pinned poor Mattie to her bed. Her legs dangled lifeless to the side. Blood darkened her buff color, changing her into a red cocker spaniel.

  A mixture of grief, anger, and hate flooded Heather. She fell to her knees. Her stomach lurched and she threw up on her already stained pink white carpet. Didn’t her stupid neighbors hear anything? Nothing even in a Stephen King book prepared her for this.

  Panting, she whispered, “Oh God, I don’t think I can handle this.”

  Scythe knelt next to her. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She sagged into him, his grip tightened and indulged in the protectiveness flowing through him, wishing he could make everything better. She glanced up. “I love her so much. She’s my best friend. She didn’t deserve to die like this.”

  He didn’t answer and held her close, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I can heal her.”

  She jerked her head. “What?”

  He ran his fingers down her cheek, and she shivered. The look he gave her took her by surprise. For a tough Angel of Death, his eyes actually glistened. He must have seen death over and over again, but a tear threatened to slip out of his eye. “It’s against the rules. Forbidden.” He gritted his teeth. “Oh, hell, Michael can deal with it.”

  Too stunned to move, she watched him stand. He held his hand over her dead dog. A white light flickered from his fingertips, growing brighter and larger, descending on Mattie. The silvery brilliance overshadowed the room.

  Heather shielded her eyes. She couldn’t make out what was happening. Warmth bathed Heather like the soft rays of the morning sun. Peacefulness washed away her hysterics, and all she wanted to do was remain in the light. Nothing bad could happen in the radiance.

  Heather arched her back and raised her arms over her head, allowing the serenity to heal her, taking all her pain away. Tingles ran from her toes all the way to her fingers. A calmness she had never felt filled her. She actually believed she could walk on air.

  The illumination faded, along with the feelings of euphoria. An empty pain filled her heart as all the negative feelings of anger, fear, doubt, and sadness returned. In the light, they hadn’t existed. “What happened?”

  A low growl that turned into a high pitch bark brought tears of happiness to her eyes. Mattie stood on the bed, snarling at Scythe. Her ears hung down on either side of her face. No blood marked her buff fur. Her brown eyes were alert. The sword had vanished.

  “Mattie.” Heather jumped on the bed. Mattie darted, but Heather caught her. She held her tight and buried her face into her fur, smelling her familiar scent. She wept. “You’re alive.”

  No one had ever done anything so unselfishly for her. She hadn’t asked him to do this, but he had done it. What would happen if he broke the rules? He went against Michael, the Archangel, for her? She couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

  Scythe sat next to her. “She doesn’t remember anything.”

  A whirl of emotions—fear, admiration, love—filled her for what Scythe had done for her. Had he done this because she was his angel-mate? Hugging Mattie tighter, Heather turned her head. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, his face grim.

  She sat, pulling Mattie with her. Deep down she detested following his gaze, but she forced herself. She sucked in her breath. The nightmare continued. The bright bathroom light shined on the mirror. Bloody words —“You’re next”—were written on her mirror. Trickles of crimson drizzled down from each letter.

  “It’s not safe here,” Scythe said.

  Still hugging Mattie, Heather looked at him. “No shit.”

  He glared. “I need to get you someplace isolated where I can lure Blade.”

  She frowned. “What about my clients? If he’s—”

  “He’s beyond that now. You don’t get it do you? All this…” He motioned his hand around the room. “Your clients, your sister, it’s all about you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Blade believes you killed his angel-mate.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  She stuck out lower chin and stood in front of Mattie who growled. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You had a client—Robert Selleck? Ring a bell?”

  She hung her head. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “He was the first one you painted.”

  “I didn’t know what I was doing then.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I know, but you cost somebody her life.”

  Guilt and remorse rushed over Heather. She remembered that awful night. “Samantha Brown.” Tears streaming down her face, Heather raised her head. “She-she was Blade’s angel-mate?”

  Her voice choked.

  “He hadn’t said the words or claimed her yet.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Michael had sent him
on another case. Told him it was urgent.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  Scythe shrugged. “Michael didn’t think she was his mate.”

  “So, he had her killed?”

  “No, she was slated to die.”

  “You were there, weren’t you?”

  He winced. “Yeah, I was.”

  “So, you did the same thing to Blade that you did to me.”

  Sorrow flickered in his eyes. “I’m so glad we’re having this conversation again.”

  “You stood by and watched her die and did nothing. Again.”

  “Heather, I can’t go against orders.”

  Wagging her tail, Mattie rested her head on Heather’s lap. Heather petted her to keep from shaking Scythe. Didn’t he understand the anguish he created? She could understand Blade, but it didn’t justify what he had been doing. She looked at Mattie. “Wait a minute. You did go against the rules.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “What will,” she gulped. “God or Michael do?”

  He grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”

  She didn’t want him hurt, not because of her. “Will they hurt you?”

  “Heather, let’s move.”

  She broke free of his arm. “No, tell me.”

  “Heather you’re my angel-mate. Plain and simple.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I protect what’s mine.”

  “Oh. Have you had other mates before?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. Angels only get one mate.”

  She took a ragged breath. “So, Blade’s is dead?”

  “Not according to Michael. Michael insists Samantha was not his mate. There’s someone else destined for him.”

  “But Blade doesn’t believe it. He blames me?”

  He wanted to kiss her pain away. “Unfortunately, yes. Remember the Book of the Dead?”

  “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. There’s one with angel-mates listed for angels.”

  “Not exactly. The names aren’t written in the book until the two meet.”

  “What?”

  “God knew angels would be seeking the book to find their mates instead of fulfilling his commands so the names only appear now after the two have met.”

  “You’re kidding? God?”

  “Yeah.” He studied her. “No, I’m not kidding.” He leaned closer to her. “What? You believe the devil exists, but not God?”

  “Well, uh…”

  He shook his head. “That’s the problem. The devil created doubt which easily leads humans astray.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck shot up. “You’re serious?”

  “I never joke about this.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. “An angel could lose his job.”

  She liked the way he tasted. His eyes twinkled and his lips turned up into a grin. She slapped him in the arm. “You’re teasing, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I am and you fell for it.”

  She couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “Stop that.”

  “I wanted to see you smile again. You’re even more beautiful when you smile.”

  “Why wouldn’t Raphael heal Samantha?”

  “He aligned with Michael.”

  “That’s why Blade fell?”

  “Yeah.”

  Agony gripped his voice. She clasped his hand. “I’m sorry.

  “If I can get Blade to Raphael…”

  “Then everything would return to normal?”

  Without flinching, he gazed into those brown eyes. “No.”

  “But Raphael could raise Samantha?”

  “Yeah, he could. But he won’t. Once a human enters hell or heaven, he or she can never leave. Those are God’s rules and unbreakable.”

  Her burrows furrowed. “But you healed Mattie?”

  “I said human, not animal.”

  A key rattled in the front door and the door opened. Mattie let out a slow growl. All her fur stood on edge. Heather grabbed the dog’s chain and yanked. “Mattie, no.”

  “Ms. Bowen,” a voice called. “Are you here?”

  Shit! Mason. How the hell did he get a key?

  “Come on.” Scythe grabbed her hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She followed Scythe out of the bedroom. Mattie darted in front of them and stopped. She barked.

  Scythe skidded to a stop.

  “What’s wrong? Mattie, shut up.” Heather bent down and picked up the snarling, wiggling dog. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

  Footsteps came running up the stairs. Mason emerged clutching a black sword in his hand. His eyes blazed red.

  Her heart pounding, Heather clutched Mattie tighter. “It was you?”

  Mason chuckled. “I see you got my message.”

  Scythe looked behind him. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Hewitt?” He shrugged. “Dead.”

  There was no regret in his eyes. He actually seemed proud. “Why?”

  Mattie barked and growled.

  Mason glared. “Shut that mutt up or I’ll hurt her again.”

  “No, you won’t,” Heather said.

  Scythe stepped in front of her and Mattie. “Leave or you’re dead.”

  Mason laughed, tossing his head back. “Yeah right. Don’t threaten me. You can’t kill me unless Michael orders it.”

  Heather put her hand on Scythe’s broad back, needing to feel his strength. “Get us out of here.”

  Mason twirled the sword in his hand. “Ah, he didn’t tell you? After healing someone an angel can’t warp out of here. Have to rejuvenate. Can’t even produce a heaven blade.”

  Heather swallowed the fear bubbling in her throat. “Is that true?”

  Not looking at her, Scythe mumbled. “Afraid so.”

  Heather glared. “This was a trap?”

  Mason bowed his head and stretched out his arms. “Of course.”

  “How did you get here so fast?” Scythe asked.

  “Blade. You’re not the only one who can teleport.”

  Scythe scanned the room. “Where is he?”

  “I believe he said he was going to the coffee shop to wait for his next client.” He tapped his chin. “I believe it’s Susan.”

  Heather sucked in her breath. “Why? She hasn’t done anything.”

  “Not anymore. She’s about to kill someone.”

  Heather wanted to strangle Mason. “You bastard!”

  Scythe crouched in front of Heather, ready to pounce. “Why did you take the drug?”

  “Your brother is very persuasive. Immortality isn’t something I could pass up.”

  Heather stared at the black sword in his hand. It had to be a hellish sword, the same one that almost killed Scythe. Blade wasn’t kidding. He really wanted his brother dead. “Did you ever think he was lying?”

  “Of course, but he proved it to me several times.” A slow chilling smile spread across his face. “Oh and one more thing. He told me how to kill an Angel of Death.”

  14

  Heather held her dog tightly, determined to protect her. Mattie trembled, barked and squirmed, digging her tiny nails into Heather’s arms.

  Scythe crouched and balled his fists, ready to attack.

  Mason’s shimmering black aura made him look more like the Grim Reaper than a man. Heather couldn’t take her eyes off the hellish sword. What had he done to his partner? What did he mean he knew how to kill an angel of death? Fear swirled in her tummy. Could the man hurt Scythe?

  Mason lashed it through the air, laughing. The man was insane.

  Mattie jumped out of her arms then hopped around the floor. “Mattie, no.” Heather stomped her foot. Luckily, she ran into her room, jumped on the bed and pranced around like a jackrabbit.

  Heather glanced at her white cordless phone sitting on her dresser.

  “You’d never get there in time.” Mason waved his finger back and forth as if she were a naughty little girl.

  She frowned. “What did you
say?”

  “Yes, I can read your mind. My powers are growing. By the way…” He tilted his head toward Scythe. “This city’s men in blue think he killed my partner.”

  Heather tensed. “Shit.” They were so screwed.

  “But you can’t read mine,” Scythe said. He edged closer to the maniac.

  Terror shot through her heart. “Scythe, no!”

  “I don’t have to read your mind—angel.” He lurched at Scythe, the sword hissing through the air.

  Scythe side stepped, bumping hard into Heather. She slammed into the wall, pain smashing into her shoulder, like being hit with a bat.

  “You’re dead, Angel.” Mason pointed the weapon at Scythe, twirling it around.

  Scythe snatched Heather’s hand and somersaulted, taking her with him. They rolled into her room, and he landed on top of her, sitting on her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

  Mason yelled and charged.

  Scythe whipped the door shut, jumped up and crashed his body against it.

  “Open, you coward,” Mason said. A loud banging hit the wood.

  Heather scrambled next to Scythe. “Lock the door.”

  He gave her a foul look. “Like I didn’t know that.”

  The door shuddered again. Mason demanded, “Open this door, coward. Face me.”

  “Yeah, like I’m going to do that.” Scythe tilted his head. “We go through there.”

  Heather followed his gaze. “My bedroom window? Are you nuts?”

  Mattie barked and Heather grabbed her collar. “Will you shut up?”

  The door thumped.

  “We don’t have time to argue.” Scythe nodded. “Do you really think this door’s going to hold?”

  “I’ll call the cops.” She clasped the phone. “Shit, it’s dead.”

  Scythe hurried to the window and flung the plantation blinds against the wall. He unlocked the latch and lifted the window. He motioned to her. “Come here.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He hoisted up his foot.

  “No! Don’t”

  He rammed his foot through the screen. A long tear ripped. He grabbed the flapping remaining screen and yanked it free.

  Wood splintered. Something sharp pointed through the door. “He’s digging through?”

  “Yeah. Hellish blade.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me your hand and grab the mutt.”