Ashes of Angels (18 page)

C
assandra held a coffee cup in each hand, and still managed to push the elevator button with her elbow. Normally, she didn't begin to function until after sunrise, and pushing buttons with her elbows? So talented!

An incredible mood had fixed into her bones. The past few hours had been perfect, wrapped in an angel's arms. And though the day promised Really Bad Stuff, she wasn't going to worry about it until after she'd had her coffee.

The elevator dinged, and she was startled to see two men from inside walk toward her. Must be morticians from the conference.

As they paralleled her, one grabbed her about the shoulders, and the other slapped a palm over her mouth. One of her hands crushed the paper coffee cup, spilling hot liquid down her pants leg. She tried to swing the other cup toward one of her attackers, but the coffee only splashed the inner elevator wall.

They carried her, squirming, around the corner and outside to a waiting black van.

A black van only meant one thing.

What the hell were vampires doing up so early? Or were they getting ready to tuck in for the day?

What was she thinking? Vampires had kidnapped her.

 

“Cassandra? Ah—yikes! Oh. Oh, dear.”

Eyes closed, Sam heard a female voice somewhere in the room. His skin was cool, but whispered with memory of Cassandra's tongue laving its entirety.

Mmm, he wanted more. And wished he could lick her without giving her the itchy angelkiss. Soon, he'd claim his soul, which would grant him mortality—and the ability to lick his lover in return. Above offered nothing when compared to lying in Cassandra's arms.

“Sorry. Is my sister in the bathroom? Er, are you awake? Oh, dear.”

That wasn't Cassandra's voice. Must be the sister. Of course, Cassandra was lying right next to him. Sam slapped the empty side of the bed.

He came awake with a start, sitting upright, noting he lay naked on top of the sheets.

Coco stood near the door, examining the ceiling.

“Sorry.” He dragged a sheet up from the floor and wrapped it around his waist.

A knock on the door sounded just before the door opened. The vampire walked in, took one look at Sam standing in nothing but a sheet, and turned a scornful look on his lover.

 

The trio quickly realized something was not right. Zane had returned from the coffee shop and hadn't run into Cassandra while there. After Sam dressed in jeans and a thin T-shirt Zane had lent to him and led them to the elevator, they discovered
traces of spilled coffee. They reached the ground floor and saw the empty coffee cups abandoned near the door exiting to the parking lot.

“Someone has taken her,” Coco deduced. She clung to Zane, who kissed her forehead and reassured her they would find her sister. “But who would do this?”

“Vampires,” Sam confirmed. “I can smell their acrid scent.”

Zane cleared his throat.

“It's an aggressive scent,” Sam clarified. “I'll wager they've taken her to the warehouse where they're keeping the nephilim.”

“For what purpose?” Coco asked. “They don't need the muse now they have a nephilim.”

“What if their experiments with the nephilim continue to go awry?” Sam conjectured. “They can use a muse and another…” He swallowed, realization hitting hard. “They've taken her to lure me to them. That must be it.”

And yet, something didn't feel right about that, either. The vampires could summon any number of Fallen now they had the book of sigils and names. They didn't need Sam.

And that made Cassandra's predicament ten times worse.

“You can't go after her,” Coco said to him. “You won't be able to keep your emotions in check. You'll get angry. What if you shift?”

“Then Sam will stay far away,” Zane suggested. “I can go in after them.”

“No. They don't need me.” Sam started toward the outer door, fury pushing his steps. “They stole the book from Cassandra's loft. They're going to summon another Fallen.”

“But I thought you had to be dead for another Fallen to go after Cassandra. Oh, dear.” Coco melted into Zane's arms, but thankfully it was not a faint.

“No, the other Fallen merely has to have lost his muse or
already attempted her. I'm not sure, really. Whatever their plans, Cassandra is in trouble. And I won't stand around talking about it.”

 

Cassandra wrestled with the manacles about her wrists. The heavy iron tore her skin making it bleed. It hurt, but she couldn't feel the pain beyond the initial tear of skin. Because she was distracted by
its
heartbeat.

In a cage not twenty feet away from her, the nephilim sat, its bare shoulders rolled forward, and legs bent and clasped against its torso. The thing's heavy round head was bald and distorted, as if the skin had melted to a sloggy pile around its jaw. The ear was placed low and was pointed and tiny. On its back a small set of wilted wings, atrophied and pink, flapped, but could not lift a kitten from the ground, let alone the giant.

Every so often it would give a mournful howl and bang the cage bars with its head. Impressions of the bars remained on the skull as if the bone were soft enough to be molded.

Perhaps the bones were. It was still a newborn. She guessed it must stand over nine feet tall. Naked and deformed, hideous was the only way to describe it. Until it turned to look at her.

Now Cassandra gazed into the perfectly round eyes. The irises boasted the kaleidoscope colors all Fallen possessed, except these irises really did move and shift, changing colors and creating gorgeous new designs. And they were watered with tears.

Falling deep into the nephilim's sorrowful gaze, Cassandra felt its pain and fear. It had only been on earth a day or two, a new and strange world where it should not even exist. It was merely struggling to survive the only way it could—on flesh and blood. The creature couldn't understand why it had been caged, held captive and tortured.

It was a baby. It needed what all children required—someone to offer reassurance, care for it, to…to hold its hand.

All I desire is someone to hold my hand
.

Swallowing her sobs, Cassandra whispered, “I'm so sorry. This never should have happened.”

The nephilim blinked, releasing copious tears. Then it opened its jaw wide, revealing sharp, double rows of fanged teeth and yowled so loudly Cassandra caught her head in her palms to cover her ears. Myriad tongues screamed out in that yell, like centuries of battle cries from all races and breeds. It pounded in Cassandra's veins, and she bent over, curling into a ball.

“Shut that thing up!”

A pair of well-shod legs and feet stopped before her. Pricey loafers and tailored trousers. The man squatted and, able to ignore the whimpering yowls from the nearby cage without a wince, he angled his head to look her over.

A black business suit and black shirt sported the glint of hematite at cuffs and neck. Hair as dark as the metallic stone was combed into a slick queue. His black eyes held centuries of knowledge, though no wrinkles creased his face. Those dark eyes touched her with a strange kindness.

“Antonio del Gado. Vampire,” he offered by way of introduction. “And you are Cassandra Stevens. Muse.” He lifted a chain from around his neck and popped out the silver medallion from behind his shirt. “This was very clever.”

It was one of her sigil necklaces.
Her
sigil. She'd only made one of them, and it had sold for a ridiculous amount, enough to pay her rent for a year.

Sam's sigil, too
.

The vampire could summon Sam here and—no, Sam would not shift to half form. He had sworn to her he would never shift again.

Unless he was taunted with a Taser, which would steal his control.

“I don't need your Fallen,” the vampire purred wickedly, his
voice softened by a Spanish accent. “I've the book and have summoned another Fallen, Kambriel, to earth. My men have located him already and soon he'll be here. For you.”

“You bastard. You have what you want.”

Antonio glanced over the cage where the nephilim sat with its head smashed against the bars, quiet for now, tears rolling down its melted face.

“That thing may not survive our initial run of experiments. Apparently it's not so easy as drinking the blood. I don't know what we are doing wrong. But we'll figure it out, even if we have to tear the thing apart.”

“What's so important about being able to walk in the day? You've obviously survived for decades—”

“Centuries,” he rolled off his tongue. “After centuries of darkness I want the light. And the strength that comes from the nephilim's blood.”

“You're endangering innocents.”

“You're not innocent.”

“I'm talking about the humans the nephilim may have harmed while it was walking free.”

“But we've contained it now. No more danger. You should be pleased, Cassandra.”

“Pleased you're going to sic a Fallen on me and make me give birth to one of those? Pleased I'll die after giving birth? Go screw yourself.”

“There is a possibility you may survive the birth.”

“Unlikely.”

“If you were vampire, you would.”

The suggestion, so out of the blue, struck at her as if he'd stabbed her in the heart with a stake. And when Cassandra looked up at Antonio del Gado, long ivory fangs slid over his lower lip and his devious grin widened.

S
am wanted to use his ability to walk swiftly to get to the warehouse, but Zane strode alongside him, and he did need all the extra help he could get. He was one angel with the strength of twenty men, but that didn't mean he'd the dexterity to fight off twenty vampires coming at him at once.

They'd made Coco stay behind at the hotel. To bring her along would only put her in danger. The vampire had kissed her quickly and calmed her frantic gibbering, probably with his innate persuasion. An example of love, the duo gave Sam hope that he and Cassandra could have the same love.

“You've got your halo, I've the demon blade,” Zane said as they walked swiftly across the bridge toward the warehouse. “You sure you won't take this extra halo? I can't use them both at once.”

“I will not touch another Fallen's halo. If you've wielded it against a Fallen one, you should be able to use it again.”

“Right then. Sure wish we had an entire gang of vampires
to help us. Or werewolves. Those hairy blokes would be great help in a pinch.”

“Ivan Drake had none to offer?”

“The vampire population in Berlin is nearly nil at the moment. Tribal wars have led them south where the vanguard lies. I don't get vampire politics, so I didn't ask. I'm glad to be unaligned.”

“But you were Anakim. Did you not have designs to capture the Fallen?”

“Me? None, whatsoever. I left as soon as Antonio suggested the devious plan. I'm not about hurting innocent women.”

“You are not like most vampires, then.”

“Apparently, you don't know a lot of vampires. We come good, evil and somewhere in between. Just like your standard human. Don't judge, bloke. You'll notice I haven't gone ninja on your evil Fallen arse.”

“I am not like my brethren. Forgive me, Zane. You've made your point. I'm focused on freeing Cassandra.”

“I know. She's your girl. I understand completely. But while you're charging in to her rescue, vampires are going to flank us. And if they have the book they may have summoned another bloody Fallen.”

“I've got it under control,” Sam said harshly.

He smacked a fist in a palm, feeling his muscles tense to a hardness that rivaled his silver wings. He'd like to shift to half form and take the vampires out with fierce wings, but he could not risk the peril he would introduce to Cassandra were he in that form. He'd made a promise to her; he would keep it at all costs.

If the vampires had harmed one inch of her soft skin he would flail the flesh from their bodies before shoving his fingers into their chests and ripping out their beating hearts.

“We have the advantage of daylight,” he said.

“Del Gado has minions who can go out in daylight. Look at
me. We all are affected by some level of sun exposure, but I'm good for half an hour in indirect light. And it's cloudy, which doubles my exposure time. Besides, his men have special UV protection suits.”

“Won't matter. I'll kill any vampire in my path.”

“Then I'll stay clear of your path. And what if they zap you with a Taser? Think about that. If they take you out, then I'm on my own. We gotta work together, bloke. Or you'll never see your bird alive again.”

Make that his bunny.

“You offer a good argument. Let's work on the plan of attack before we arrive.”

 

Cassandra kicked Antonio del Gado in the gut. His fangs grazed her jaw before he stumbled backward and landed sprawled.

In the cage, the nephilim stood and shook the bars. One bar, as thick as her arm and fashioned from iron, loosened at the bottom.

Granny had not given her any advice or spells against a nephilim. The idea of such a creature walking the earth had always been an
idea
.

“You're frightening it!” she said, admonishing the vampire who stood and brushed off his suit sleeves.

“Me? That thing is an abomination! It cannot be anything but monstrous.”

“It's just a baby. Leave it alone. Quit poking it with needles and just…”

“Just what?” Del Gado leaned in, but not close enough for her to kick him again. The silver sigil necklace dangled close enough to grab. “Just let it go? Very well, I will do that. I will take great joy in watching the creature terrorize the city of Berlin. And while we're enjoying the mayhem, I will slay your Fallen, and the other Fallen—”

“Antonio!”

He turned. A crew of four vampires dragged a naked man across the cement floor in the massive warehouse, and dropped him halfway.

“The new Fallen,” one of them said. “Kambriel. The Taser knocked him out, but he should be coming to real soon.”

“You couldn't have offered him a pair of slacks?”

The vampire winced. “It was kind of creepy carrying a naked dude here.”

“Give him your clothes.”

The vampire gaped.

“Now!”

The shaky underling pulled off his leather jacket, and stripped to his striped boxer shorts.

Antonio twisted a wickedly gleeful look at Cassandra. She could imagine him rubbing a palm over a dastardly fist.

“The party soon begins,” he said and winked at her. “Pity you wouldn't allow me to transform you to vampire first.”

“I'd rather be dead,” she said flatly, and knew that was the only other option.

 

With the warehouse in sight, Sam charged, his feet leaving the ground and the superfast walk angels were capable of taking him to the door in seconds. The vampire followed at a distance, as they'd decided. Sam would reconnaissance, and by the time Zane arrived, he'd have the layout and details of how many were inside.

Marching toward the two-story steel door, Sam was body-checked from the side by a massive form. He and his attacker soared through the air and ended up in a snowdrift higher than a car.

A metal-armored fist punched Sam's jaw. He shook off the bone-jarring pain and blinked. “A bloody Sinistari. I don't need this now! Raphael, call off your troops!”

A kick sent the demon stumbling backward. Sam raced after him, pummeling him to the ground before the door. The two exchanged punches, kicks and curses. He didn't see the demon's blade, which could be his end, yet Sam knew it must be on the demon somewhere.

“You've got the wrong Fallen,” he barked, and smashed a fist into the demon's chest. He wore armor, which was cheating, because in demonic form the Sinistari were already solid metal.

The demon jumped to stand, surprisingly agile in the heavy armor. “All Fallen are wrong.”

“Yeah? You come from Fallen stock, buddy.”

The demon tilted its head in wonder. “Buddy?”

“Right. You probably just arrived. Haven't had a chance to walk the world and learn slang, phrases and facts. You were once like me.” He unhooked the halo from his hip and slashed it in the air.

The demon reached behind one shoulder and drew out a two-foot-long blade.

“Seriously? Doesn't look like a standard-issue Sinistari blade.”

“I've modified it,” the demon said with a hematite grin. “A millennia spent Beneath grants one time to develop a hobby. Say your prayers, Fallen one. I'm sending you home to daddy.”

Sam dodged the swinging blade. “He's your father, too!”

“You lie!”

Sam released the halo, which cut around the demon's neck, through the armor, and circled back to Sam's hand.

The demon's helmet broke away and he shook it off to reveal a black, horned skull. The tips of its horns, curled along its head, glowed red. No damage to his metallic flesh. It charged, catching Sam at the shoulders and pushing them against the steel door. The entire door shook and clattered.

The Sinistari's blade, aimed downward at Sam, paused. The
demon tilted its head, listening. It sniffed. “There's another Fallen?”

Sam's hard glass heart expanded a beat and dropped. In the moment of silence, enemy clutching enemy, he sensed… Cassandra. She called to him from inside his heart because that was where she lived. But he also sensed what the demon sensed.

“Another Fallen? That means—” He shoved at the Sinistari. “He's going to hurt her! You've got the wrong angel. The muse is inside!”

The demon redirected the blade toward the door, wedging it in the crease between both doors, and popped it open. A dozen vampires rushed them.

Zane arrived, huffing, and dashed in behind the demon and Sam. “You go after Cassandra,” he directed at Sam. He eyed the demon, who took in the situation with a seething hiss.

“Wanna kill some vampires?” Sam said to the Sinistari, not expecting an answer. “Hold them off, while I get the girl!”

“You will not attempt her!” the demon roared.

“He won't,” Zane said to the demon as they met the oncoming vampires. “He's in love with her, see.” First slash of the demon blade Zane owned took out one vampire, but didn't reduce it to dust. “Gonna have to cut off some heads, I see. Help me!”

The Sinistari, who considered the crazed vampire beating with futile result against his armor, glanced at Sam, who raced toward the dais where a muse had been chained and another Fallen stood. The running Fallen repelled all approaching vampires with a gesture of his hand.

A thin chain wrapped about the Sinistari's wrist and tugged. The vampire, who appeared to be Samandiriel's cohort, nodded
and released the chain from his wrist with a flick. “You helping?”

“Fine.” The Sinistari grabbed the vampire beating his chest and snapped off its head. “This won't take long.”