by ML Guida
Her heart beat hard in her chest. “Two stories high? No way.”
Another stab hit the door; this time more silver came through. Mattie snarled.
Mason gave her no choice. Taking a deep breathe, she snagged Mattie’s fat, trembling body. Her hand shaking, she clutched Scythe’s. He yanked her close to him. His masculine scent washed over her. “You’ll be fine.”
Pieces of splintered wood flew through the air. Mattie whined. Heather tightened her grip on Scythe’s rough hand. “Don’t let the mad Whacker cut me down.”
“Trust me.” He put his leg through the window and half sat. He pulled her into his lap.
Biting her lip, Heather peered at the rocks and her wooden deck below. “Shit,” she murmured.
She held Mattie close to her. Her brown eyes wide, Mattie wiggled and whimpered. “Shhh,” she whispered. Who was she kidding? She was as scared as Mattie.
“Hang on.” Scythe wrapped his arm around her waist.
The sound of a loud crack hit the room. She glanced over Scythe’s shoulder. A hole emerged in the door and a foot kicked wood. Without warning, Scythe jumped. Air whipped around her face and the ground rushed up toward her. Heather screamed.
Holding her secure against him, Scythe landed on both of his feet, jarring her. Mattie jumped onto the deck and darted underneath it where Heather couldn’t reach her. “Damn it, Mattie, no.” She shook from head to toe. “How did you do land on both feet?”
“Not all of my powers are gone. Let’s get out of here.”
“Bitch, where are you?” Mason called from inside.
Scythe held a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
“But Mattie…”
He held up his hand and closed his eyes. A peace came over her. She clapped her hands together. Squashing low to the ground, Mattie crawled out from underneath the deck.
Scythe threw Heather over the six-foot wooden privacy fence. Landing on her palms and knees on the pebbled rocks, she winced. Pain gripped her. A deep bloody cut marred each palm.
Mattie flew over the fence, her paws moving in the air. Her arms stretched out, Heather lunged, but the dog slipped through. Mattie yelped and rolled. Scythe leaped over the fence. “Get up!”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t tell him about her hands. Mattie barked her head off.
“I see you.”
Heather looked up. Mason hung out the window with a crazed look on his face. He crawled through, still clutching the sword in one hand.
Scythe grabbed her arm and shoved her. “Move!”
“No wait.” Heather shook free. “Mattie, come.”
Mattie limped, her right paw dangling at an odd angle. Heather snagged her leash, getting another yelp, but she didn’t care. Better for her to be choked then turned into a shish kebab.
She cradled the dog next to her. Mattie trembled and snuggled against her chest. Her thundering heart matched Heather’s.
“Run,” Scythe said. “Don’t worry about the blessed dog.”
Heather hurried after him, but she couldn’t match his long strides. Her knees screamed in pain. Looking down, blood drizzled from her knees. She took another step and her right leg crumbled. “Ow!”
Scythe glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, Heaven.”
He seized Heather and with one swoop, lifted her in his arms.
“Angel,” Mason yelled. A thump hit behind her.
Scythe ran at a speed she didn’t think any man possessed. Her vision blurred and wind raced through her hair. She held Mattie tighter, not ever wanting to remember the sword embedded in her little frame.
Anchoring her and Mattie against his massive chest, he cleared the six-foot fence in one hurdle. She jolted. He landed on his feet again, but this time, he landed on green grass. God, he was superhuman, but then again, he wasn’t a man.
Something hit the fence behind her. She peered over Scythe’s shoulder, his hair whipping her face. Fingers gripped the fence and a scraping sound hit the wood.
“Hold on,” Scythe said.
“Alllll right,” she said. Her words rattled in her chest as he raced into the street, his feet pounding on the black top. She bounced up and down like a kangaroo. Forgetting to breathe, she clutched her dog, not wanting her to dart out of her arms. If she tried to escape, Mattie would be jumping out of a moving freight train.
Heather buried her face into Mattie’s soft fur, caressing her face. Her familiar dog scent helped her to keep from screaming. It’s not every day you have a psycho-killer cop chasing you and an angel holding you, running as fast as a superhero. All she needed was for Scythe to burst into flames and burn her and Mattie to a crisp.
Screaming sirens shrieked. As Scythe whirled around the corner, two police cars slammed on their brakes, tires screaming. The doors flew open and four cops jumped out, guns drawn.
“Hold it right there,” the tall black cop said in a no nonsense tone. “Move and your dead.”
Footsteps pounded behind us. “It’s him,” Mason yelled behind us. “He’s the one that murdered Hewitt.”
15
His heart beating fast, Scythe swore that he didn’t have the power to transport Heather out of this mess, but he was spent. He needed to time to heal. They were trapped between Mason and a firing squad.
Thunder crackled overhead, then lightning flashed and hit the ground behind a squad car. None of the officers even flinched, but electricity shot up through Scythe’s feet to his head. His heart skipped a beat. He shook and his teeth chattered.
Heather’s eyes widened. “Scythe, what’s wrong? Your hair is standing straight up.”
“Michael.”
Her face paled. “The Archangel? Where?”
“Over there.” He managed to nod. “Behind the cop car.”
Michael’s thick black hair cascading down his back, he stood shirtless and wore leather pants, like always, with his arms folded across his massive chest. His heavenly silver sword, Merciless, was tucked in his sheath on his hip. It was the same blade he used to fight Lucifer. He towered over the cop car. The tallest, fittest and meanest angel of death in God’s arsenal, he wasn’t one you wanted to betray, and he had done it. As if reading his mind, Mattie licked Scythe’s face.
Heather frowned. “I don’t see anyone.”
“I know. It’s better that you don’t.”
She trembled in his arms. “Is he mad?”
Michael’s fierce scowl hurled a bolt of fear through Scythe. “You could say that.”
“You need to keep your mouth shut,” the black cop ordered. “Put the woman and dog down. Hands in the air. Now.”
Scythe lowered Heather to the ground, never taking his eyes off Michael. Heather lowered Mattie to the ground. She scampered off, straight toward Michael.
“Mattie,” she called. “No.”
“Leave her. She’s safe. He won’t hurt her or you.” No, he’s here to kick my ass.
“Hands in the air, lady, now,” the burly cop ordered.
Raising her arms high, Heather gave him a quizzical look. “Who won’t hurt her?”
“Michael.”
A look of comprehension crossed her face. “It’s because you brought back Mattie, isn’t it?”
Scythe refused to answer. The less she knew the better.
Mason ran up behind them. “They both tried to kill me.”
A car door opened and a petite black woman wearing a blue striped suit got out. She leaned on the car. “Really, Mason?”
“Schmidt, what are you doing here?”
“Thing is…Hewitt’s not dead. Came to about a half hour ago.”
Scythe arched his eyebrow at Michael who shrugged. The head angel had kept Hewitt alive. Why? To spoil Blade’s plan? Or was Hewitt’s name not in the Book of the Dead? Like Michael would give him any answers, at least not now.
Michael flashed him a hostile stare that sent chills of terror down Scythe’s spine. Acid burned in his gut. He was so fucked.
“What?” A cloud of doubt flickered in
Mason’s eyes. “That’s great.”
“Ya think?” Schmidt tapped the window with her red fingernails. “Take them all in for questioning.”
Mason reached under his jacket.
A blond haired female cop cocked the trigger on her revolver. “You touch it, you’re dead, Mason.”
All four guns aimed at Mason. He dropped the knife. “All right. All right. Don’t shoot.” He raised both his hands high in the air.
Strands of her brown hair hung in Heather’s face, and Scythe itched to push it away. Her wide dewy eyes looked at him as if to say do something. She was his angel-mate. No matter what Michael did to him, she was worth it. He’d die for her.
Thunder grumbled overhead. “We’ll see about that, Angel.” Michael’s menacing voice stole Scythe’s breath, then all went black.
An icy wind whipped Scythe’s naked skin, whirling him around like a piece of paper in a roaring tornado. The noise hurt his ears. Pain gripped him. Human shrieks rang in his ears. Don’t let those be Heather’s.
He couldn’t make out the voices, but he was in too much torment to distinguish whether they were male or female. Zeus knows what happened to her. He gritted his teeth and with all his strength flapped opened his wings, but it was useless. An angry gust slammed into his back, flattening his wings to his side. Agony tore through him. He screamed for Heather and fell.
The air turned hot. His wings plastered to his sweltering skin. His throat was too hoarse to scream anymore. He spiraled toward a flaming orange ball that grew bigger and brighter and hotter. Fire exploded and crackled. Fear gripped him as the blistering wind lashed him like a fiery whip. His arms and legs trembled. His thundering heart sent blood gushing through his veins. Steamy sweat drenched him. His hair flung into his face, blinding him. Michael have mercy.
But none came. How could Michael do this to him? If he hurt one hair on Heather’s glorious head, he’d challenge the holy tyrant. Where was that coming from? He had never felt this way toward his boss. Never. He had followed Michael’s every command, every order, every desire without question. But that was then, this was now. The only thing that mattered was getting back to Earth. Heather needed him, but what if she was down here? He couldn’t feel her. She could be anywhere. For Heaven’s sake, Michael, don’t hurt her. Where the hell was she?
Volcanoes erupted. He smashed into the boiling lava. Jagged rocks and pebbles scratched and dug into his skin. His flesh melted off his bones. Agony gripped him. Human screams mixed with demon laughter rang in his ears. He screamed, but the flickering flames ate his shrieks.
Suddenly, the fire dissipated and he was whole again.
“Ah, so you’re here,” an evil voice said.
Panting, Scythe turned. “Balthazar.”
A black haired man slightly bowed with a dumb ass grin on his face. Long black hair fell to his waist and his eyes burned red. Sweat glistened off his muscles. He wore tight black jeans and no shoes, and looked like he’d just gotten back from a leisurely walk in this hell hole.
“Hello, Scythe,” he said. “I see we meet again, but this time…” He raised his hands in a wide V over his head. “We’re on my turf.” He bowed slightly. “Welcome.”
The rancid smell of decaying, rotting souls permeated the air. Noxious fumes made Scythe’s eyes water. He wrinkled his nose. His stomach twisted into a knot. He bit his cheek to keep from vomiting. Scythe rolled to his side. “You bastard, where is she?”
“Ah, yes, your angel-mate? Wouldn’t you like to know?” Balthazar put his hands on his hips. “By the way, it’s not polite to insult your host. Boys.”
Growls and snarls were all around Scythe. Black shadows with pointed horns, yellow glowing eyes and long sharp claws emerged out of the flames. Hovering, the black shapeless images surrounded him. Scythe tensed and his racing heart pummeled to his toes. Shit, ghost demons. Without a heaven sword, he was fucking powerless.
Scythe balled his fists and struggled to stand, to fight. “Balthazar, I will kill you if you hurt her.”
The ghost demons hissed and swarmed him, like pissed off wasps protecting their nest. Nails sharp as daggers slashed through his flesh. Ignoring the agony pumping through him, he swung, but his fists went right through them.
Balthazar laughed. “Only a demon can touch them. You know that.”
Scythe staggered and fell to the ground. Razor sharp teeth tore into his muscles, ripping bits out. Misery swelled inside him. Biting his tongue, he refused to cry out.
Balthazar sat on a rock and picked the dirt out of his nails. “Don’t worry. I doubt Michael will let you die. But let me give you this piece of advice, Blade’s soul will soon be mine.”
“Never.” Scythe spat blood into the pit.
“Good-bye, Angel. We’ll meet again.” His cruel laughter killing any hope.
Closing his eyes as a ghost demon attempted to tear out his eye, Scythe dug his nails into the hard ground, trying to block out the unbearable torment. Wind blew in his ears and the tearing and biting lessened.
“Get up,” a hard voice said.
Scythe recognized that voice. “Michael?”
He opened one eye. The sun shone high in the sky and the blasted demons were gone. He lay on a turf of fresh cut grass and Heather’s dog, Mattie, panted next to him. She edged closer to him and put her nose next to his. Her paws touched his hand as if to say I’m here.
Michael towered over him. “You disappoint me, Scythe. My number one angel betrayed me.”
Scythe rolled into a sitting position. How could he be sweltering, melting in hell but come out here and be as cold as ice? Michael’s shadow covered him. He could only make out his shining silver eyes. Michael sauntered a few feet away, and the sun chased away his chills.
Mattie laid her head in his lap. She nuzzled closer and he stroked her soft fur. “I didn’t betray you, Michael.”
“Then why is she alive?” Michael pointed at Mattie as if the little dog was an abomination.
“She’s a dog. Did I disturb some grand plan?” He wanted to knock some sense into Michael’s stubborn melon. He looked around. “Where in heaven is Heather?”
“Are you telling me you want to go back and visit Balthazar?”
Michael’s low drawl cut Scythe’s backtalk.
He swallowed. “No, but…”
“Silence.” He waved his hand. “I will hear no more of your excuses. You are no longer second-in-command. Saber is replacing you.”
Great, only his finest competition. Wonderful. Biting back another retort, Scythe waited.
“I grew weary of this plan of yours. Your brother has more than tested my patience.”
Scythe tensed. “But…”
“Do you want me to rip out your biting tongue?” Michael grew in size, his mountain shadow falling across Scythe and the lawn as if a sky scrapper had just shot out of the ground. Mattie whimpered.
Scythe wisely shook his head.
The head angel’s shadow diminished. He held out his hand. Scythe had no choice but to grab it. Electricity shot up his arm and he winced. He lifted his chin to gaze at Michael’s grim face.
“You have until tonight to save your brother. If you fail, I will personally hand him over to Balthazar, and it will be open season on him.”
“You—”
Michael held up his hand. “Don’t piss me off.” He snapped his fingers.
A bolt of light propelled from the sun and hit Scythe in the middle of his chest, knocking him onto the ground. He arched his back as power surged through him.
“Now fix this mess.” Michael disappeared into a blinding light.
Scythe shielded his eyes. “Show off.” He took a deep breath to chase away the terror crouching inside him. “Zeus, that sucked.”
A bark grabbed his attention. Mattie hid under a Volkswagen bug.
He patted the ground. “Come here, girl.”
Mattie crept under the car. She hesitated, but then he whistled. She trotted across the lawn and lay down, putting
her chin on his thigh. “Hey, girl. You were the smart one. Where’s your owner?”
Inhaling, he closed his eyes. “Shit, when is she not in trouble?”
Mattie looked at him with her big brown eyes. He chuckled.
“Well, at least, Michael gave me back my powers. Thank God for small graces.”
Pushing the memory of hell to the back of his mind, he petted her soft fur and sighed. “Your mom would be pissed if I didn’t take care of you first.”
Lifting her head, Mattie wagged her short little tail. He snapped his fingers. Mattie and he appeared in Heather’s backyard. The dog trotted over to a dish full of her favorite dog food next to a bowl full of water. A long brown pig skin chew toy was on the deck. “That ought to keep you busy why I bust your mom out of jail.”
Scythe snapped his fingers, then manifested inside a crowded cell.
A tired looking blond woman jumped back. “Oh, my God! Who are you?”
When would humans realize that calling His name in vain never ended well?
“Who cares?” A black prostitute wearing too-short red shorts and a gold halter top sauntered over to him. She cupped his ass. The smell of noxiously sweet rose perfume assailed Scythe’s nostrils. “You’re a fine one.” She jerked her hand off him as if burned. “What the hell?”
A look of horror crossed her stricken face. Her seductiveness vanished and she slowly sat on the floor, resting her head in her palms. “What I have done?”
Scythe walked to her. “I’ve seen your life. You have a choice. Stop what you’re doing or if not, you’re fate is doomed.”
The woman half sobbed. “It’s too late.”
Scythe knelt. He put his hand on her trembling shoulder. “No, you’re wrong.”
She lifted her head and her lower lip trembled. “I-I-I’m afraid.”
“Pray. It will give you strength.”
“Scythe?”
Heather’s soft scent flooded him with joy. It was so good to hear her sweet voice. She walked past the blonde who eyed him warily. He forced himself to stay where he was. It would be just like his brother to attack if he was to lose himself in her womanly secrets.
