Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) (7 page)

Jarrid raised an eyebrow. “Am I that obvious?”

“Okay, first rule. Stop answering my questions with a question,” Ionie said. “Second rule. Answer my questions. Third rule — ”

“The third rule is Jarrid has to introduce his brother to our smokin’ hot guest.” The voice came from the doorway.

Ionie spun and met a wall of leather. Like Jarrid, the new guy was a behemoth, built like a Humvee, and way too handsome. Where Jarrid’s features were dark, this guy was the epitome of light. Blond, silver-eyed, and skin so lightly tanned he looked airbrushed. Speechless, she could only stare up at the guy and pray she didn’t embarrass herself.

“I’m Cain.” Though his voice held a bit of gravel, the nephilim’s words wrapped around Ionie like soft beach blanket. She smiled up at him.

“Drop the aura, Cain,” Jarrid said.

“You see me fetal on the floor? No Act, so no Grace.” Cain smiled back. “I think she likes me.”

Ionie couldn’t help herself. The warmth of a blush crept from her cheeks to her toes. She extended her hand. “I’m Ionie Gifford, reporter for
The Detroit News
.”

Cain took her small hand in his, eclipsing it. His hold was firm, but gentle. She marveled at the control these nephilim had over their powerful bodies.

“You’re one of The Order,” she said.

“I am. And you are here because?”

“She’s helping with my assignment,” Jarrid said with a pinched mouth. “Where’s Tanis?”

Ionie caught a slight stiffening of Cain’s shoulders before he faced his brother. At first glance, the two had a lot in common, but she sensed Jarrid was the more dangerous of the pair.

“He and the others will be here shortly,” Cain said. “Kas was updating the cameras when you arrived.”

“How many brothers live here?” Ionie asked, her excitement at meeting the secretive sect evident in her voice.

“Let’s see. There’s the quiet one, the geeky one, the brooding one, the bossy one, and the incredibly charming one,” Cain said, showing off his perfect white teeth. “It’s obvious which description reflects me.”

“You’re the ass hat,” said a voice behind her. Ionie turned and all cheerfulness fled. Standing in the doorway was a man with horribly scarred wings.

“I’m Tanis, the bossy one,” he said without smiling. “Cain talks too much shit, and Jarrid doesn’t follow proper procedure regarding outsiders.”

Jarrid appeared ready to defend himself, but the new guy shot him a look. The angel’s wings fluttered, and the slight movement made Ionie whimper. Those mangled things had to hurt. Feathers long dead or dying stuck out from different places on the twisted frame.

My God, they were burned
.

• • •

Tanis bore the scrutiny like a warrior. He didn’t hide his disfigurement. His head tilted and he studied the woman standing near his two adopted sons. A Renegade wanted her and The Order hadn’t reported a thing to the Directorate. If Heaven’s leading cabal knew she existed they’d demand she be turned over to them. The idea wasn’t an option. Jarrid was right. The nephilim should be freed from the chains binding their Grace, and this woman played a part.

She didn’t look special. It was clear from her caramel skin tone she was mixed race. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail was a thick mass of dark brown waves. Her chocolate eyes held intelligence, but he again wondered what fascination a normal human offered an outlaw.

“What do you know about angels, Ionie?” he asked, gauging her reaction.

“Not much,” she said, shrugging. “I guess what everyone else does. It’s pretty basic stuff.”

Tanis didn’t hear a lie in her words. His gift allowed him to pick out deception in the briefest sentence. Unlike his adopted family, he didn’t suffer punishment when his power showed itself.

“I’m glad Jarrid found you,” he said. “We’re eager for your help.”

She crossed her arms. “I must admit this whole thing is weird. Why not ask a cop to tell you about those bodies?”

Yes, she was intelligent. He’d need to tread carefully.

“A reporter tends to observe things … differently,” he said, hedging the truth a fraction. “Look around. We’re not exactly an inconspicuous bunch. We attract attention wherever we go.”

“Okay, I’ll buy your story, but your boy showed up with one of my articles in his hands. He won’t tell me what his super-secret mission is or how my stories can help.”

Tanis gave Jarrid a sideways glance. “Crime involves emotions we don’t experience. He’s correct. We can’t reveal the mission, but I can tell you your cooperation is necessary for its success.”

She mulled over his words, worrying her lower lip. A reaction, Tanis noted, which drew Jarrid’s attention.

“Criminals have various reasons why they do what they do,” she said. “It all comes down to one person wanting power over another and it’s never pretty. Crime is one of the worst displays of human behavior. Not sure what more I can dig up that wasn’t in the stories you’ve seen.”

“We appreciate your help,” Tanis said. “Jarrid is a capable … observer. What he learns, the rest of us will too.”

“He could use a few lessons in humor.” Ionie frowned up at Jarrid. The assassin frowned back.

Cain chuckled under his breath.

“Jarrid’s the brooding one,” Tanis said. “I’m sure he’ll learn a lot from you, if you’re patient.”

“Or you can hit him with a brick,” Cain said. “I’ve had a shitload of laughs doing that.”

Jarrid growled at the other nephilim. “I’m going to kick your ass, Cain.”

“See, no humor at all,” Ionie said, gesturing between the two brothers.

Tanis grinned. He liked her. Surrounded by two overgrown boys and an angel, she didn’t hold her tongue. Her race was weak, but she had strength. How would she hold up against a Renegade? The thought disturbed him. He wanted to catch the bastard without involving this innocent, but they only knew she was a target. Well, she was with The Order now, and nothing on Earth was strong enough to take them on.

Saul nudged the loose concrete with his boot. His brain was numb after babysitting the latest contender in the Renegade’s search. Plus, his hunger was riding him harder than a bronco buster. He slicked his tongue over his aching gums and raised his head. The woman dangling from a hook in the ceiling would make a tasty appetizer.

Dilated green eyes stared back at him as if a glance might convince him to free her. Saul followed the wet trail of tears down her cheeks to her neckline. His second row of fangs descended. He wanted to drain her on the spot, but he resisted the urge as he had when he had grabbed her. Plus Beleth would own his ass.

Saul held a grudging respect for the Renegade. The fallen angel could burn a man inside out. Neat trick. He preferred his own style of discipline. A knife to the gut. Ripped out vocal cords. The vampire gang feared Saul and remained loyal. Soon, the rest of Detroit would follow.

He crossed the factory floor until he stood within a breath of the woman. He reached out to touch her, but she recoiled.

Amusing
. “One small test and you’re done.”

“Please, let me go. I want to go home. I won’t say anything to anybody.” Her lips quivered.

Terror.
An aphrodisiac for his senses.

“Sshh.” Saul smoothed her chestnut hair from her round face. He caught the memory of her name. “You won’t be here long, Veronica. I promise.”

He leaned forward, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. God, she smelled delicious. Humans always did. The whole race was a walking, talking, banquet on legs. Beleth better show soon or he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions. A man had to eat.

“Is this what you’ve brought me?”

Saul spun at the question and faced his partner. Beleth wore his usual black-on-black ensemble of loose-fitting pants and buttoned shirt. Under his sport coat, there was enough fire power to take down a rhino. His black wings folded against his back. Saul bent his head in a submissive bow. “I found her outside the university library.”

The angel’s face twisted with skepticism. He remained where he was. “Why take her rather than another?”

“Her scent drew me like you said.”

“Hmm. Let’s see if your olfactory organs are correct.” Beleth sauntered over to the shivering woman and grabbed her jaw. He stared into her eyes without a hint of emotion on his pale face.

Saul knew what came next. The awareness spiked his hunger off the scale.

The angel closed his eyes and a glow arose from his skin. Beleth’s power discharged, spearing Veronica with unnatural energy. The Renegade’s Grace swirled into her limbs, lighting her from within, her body shaking and twisting under the assault. Her ravaged screams, the sound of an animal being flayed alive, rolled through the abandoned factory.

This was a terrible power, beyond any Saul had witnessed in three hundred years. The angel shuddered with strain, a sheen of sweat breaking through his pores.

Then came the stench. Burning flesh. Liquefied organs. Hair, muscles, bones. Everything smoking, turning to ash. Saul’s hand flew to his nose in a vain attempt to block the sickening odor. Veronica’s fair skin darkened and welted. Seconds ticked by. The welts ruptured into oozing sores. The angel held her, regardless of the muck, his hand tight around her throat and his eyes the color of pitch.

Soon, no further sounds came from the fried vocal cords. Her mouth stayed opened, her head thrown back in an eternal, soundless cry.

Revulsion wracked Saul. What a fucked up way to bite it.

All the wasted blood.
There wouldn’t be a drop left in her when Beleth finished. He didn’t have to wait long. With a disgusted flick of his wrist, his ally flung the smoldering corpse away. It hit the wall with a crunch.

The Renegade turned his angry face to him. “She’s not mine. You’ve failed again.”

Saul sank to his knees. “She was marked. Her scent … .”

“Another’s taint, you fool. This is the fourth time you’ve brought me a worthless human!”

Beleth treaded over to where he knelt. Saul considered grabbing the gun tucked at his back. Would he get a shot off before the angel smoked him?

“Go ahead,
ally
,” Beleth said. “Move against me so I can rip the life from your foul body.”

Shit, shit, shit
. “I’m not stupid.”

“You are, but you enjoy living too much to risk the pain I would deliver. I
would
make you linger on this side of death until you prayed for it.”

Saul’s mouth clamped shut and he cleared his head of acts of rebellion. Either Beleth could read his mind, or the asshole could divine his intentions as if he’d spoken them out loud. He asked the question, yet dreaded the reply. “What happens now?”

“What’s the human expression?” Beleth asked, tapping his lip with a bony finger. “Three strikes, you’re out?”

Saul flinched but kept his lips pinned together.

“One more mistake, vampire. The woman I want is a Scribe of some kind. You’ll bring me another, and if she isn’t the right one, you’ll share her fate.”

“You ask for the impossible,” Saul said. “My men canvas the city, but there are too many possibilities.”

A sudden blast comparable to a Mack truck punched into his chest, sending him flying back into a row of rusted storage containers. Then an invisible force seized his body and yanked him from the floor. He groaned, his legs dangling in mid-air.

Beleth glared up at him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, dog. I want results. You have one chance to bring me the correct woman, or I will turn you to ash.”

If vampires had bodily functions Saul knew he’d be shitting his pants. His pained reply came out in a wheeze. “I won’t fail again.”

With an oath, the enraged angel released him. Saul dropped to the ground, gasping.

“See you don’t, leach,” Beleth said, gliding toward the door. “I don’t believe in mercy.”

He didn’t move until his ears picked up the distant flapping of wings. He wrapped an arm around his throbbing midsection, certain the asshole had broken several ribs. He pushed off the ground and looked around. Veronica’s husk lay crumpled where it had fallen. The charred remains would require DNA scans to identify the victim. Saul rubbed his face before pulling out a cellular phone.

“Yes sir?”

“Body dump,” Saul said. “Pick an interesting location this time. The church picnic was lame.”

He flipped the phone closed. His boys would handle the cleanup. What he needed was a warm vein to get rid of the damage the Renegade caused. Working for angels was a hazardous job. He needed to cover his back. Most of all, he needed a sure thing from his search, or he’d end up worse off than the chick in the corner.

Saul limped past the body and out the door. He slid behind the wheel of his BMW and floored the gas pedal. Somewhere in Detroit was a woman wanted by a Renegade angel. Whoever the reporter was, she was about to wish she’d never been born.
That
he’d guarantee.

• • •

Jarrid left Ionie in the Think Tank and followed Tanis to his study.

“They’re calling in,” the angel said.

The Directorate never let the Order go a day without some kind of summons. Jarrid swore under his breath as he paced the room, crushing a path into the antique rug. The leaders of Heaven enjoyed meddling.

Tanis retrieved the orb, a celestial communication device. Jarrid listened while his friend recited a string of Aramaic to tune the device to receive vibrations from the Directorate’s main hub.

“You’ve kept us waiting. Report.” The disembodied voice belonged to Azriel, head asshole of the governing body. A rush of air escaped Jarrid’s lips. God of All, he hated dealing with the guy. Azriel wasn’t a fan of the Order, especially since Tanis stood up to him eons ago and saved the lives of every member.

“I was waiting for Jarrid to take part,” Tanis said. “He’s received intel of a Renegade close by.”

Murmurs filled the room. “Why was this information not relayed sooner?”

“He arrived only moments ago,” Tanis said with a wink. Jarrid hacked a cough to cover his laugh. Leave it to the truth diviner to lie through his teeth. For once he was glad the orb could only send voice and not visuals.