Dirty Angel (Sainted Sinners #1) (2 page)

“
Y
ou won’t find
it here,” came a sultry voice.

Kirael opened his eyes, wincing as he turned. He’d knelt on this ice-cold stone altar for hours, genuflecting, and the sudden movement sent a sharp wave of sensation back into his legs.

“Who’s there?” he called.

His voice rang through the crumbling stone monastery, empty except for the vines slowly pushing their way in through the cracks splitting the ceiling and the mice scurrying here and there.

He rose to his feet, squinting through the near-darkness. A single shaft of light spilled from a crack at the far end of the room. The monks who’d carved this temple into the mountainside had lived in complete darkness nearly all their lives.

Those monks were long gone though, so when a woman stepped out of the darkness and into the beam of light, Kirael tensed.

“You should not be here,” he said.

“Nor you,” the woman said, tilting her head to the side. She wore a tall white head scarf, the ivory contrasting with her coffee-colored skin. Her flowing robes rustled as she moved toward Kirael.

She held out a hand, palm up, and conjured a ball of light. The whole room brightened, enough even that Kirael could see the gentle crow’s feet and laugh lines on her face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Mere Marie. I work for Le Medcin,” she said.

Le Medcin was sort of an intermediary between Heaven and Hell. To hear his name brought up in this context was… unexpected, to say the least.

Kirael blinked. “You know who I am, then.”

“Of course. It wasn’t easy to track you down, but here we are.”

“I want you to leave. This is a place of worship,” he said.

Mere Marie’s lips twitched. “I think, at the moment, it’s just a place for you to hide.”

Kirael’s jaw tensed. “I’m trying to commune with my God.”

“And he’s not listening,” she said. “He’s not interested, Kirael.”

“And what concern is it of yours?”

“You are not the only Fallen angel to leave Hell.”

Kirael froze, her words shocking him to stillness.

“No?” he asked after a moment.

“Ezra, Lucan!” she cried, her voice thunderous in the small chamber.

Kirael’s jaw dropped as two familiar faces appeared on either side of Mere Marie. Two Fallen he’d thought never to see again, certainly never under anything less than dire circumstances.

Is this a trick?
he had to wonder.
A trap, perhaps?

“Lucan?” he asked.

The former head of Lucifer’s army gave Kirael a stiff nod, his blond hair shorn short, his clothes oddly modern.

“It’s no trickery,” Ezra said. Kirael glanced over at the dark-haired man, once a close personal friend of Lucifer.

“No?” Kirael asked.

“No. We all Fell as one, with heads full of pretty promises,” Lucan said, his expression dark as a thunderclap. “Ezra and I defected together, after many years of dissatisfaction.”

“Mere Marie has recruited us,” Ezra said.

Kirael was silent for a beat. “For what?”

“To keep the peace,” Mere Marie said. “To keep balance in the human world. Enacting Le Medcin’s orders, for the most part.”

“And in exchange?” Kirael asked.

“We are protected, after a fashion. And offered chances to assist Heaven, at times,” Lucan said. “Though it’s been less than a year since Ezra and I came to earth, I feel as though we’ve done a lot of good already.”

Kirael wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

“And what, you want to recruit me now?” he asked.

“You won’t last, out here on your own,” Mere Marie said. “If I could find you, Lucifer will find you. And unless there’s something I don’t know about, he’s probably going to be trying to kill you.”

Kirael smirked. “We didn’t leave things on good terms, no.”

“Come with us, at least for now,” Ezra said. “There’s no special penitence here that couldn’t be found in New Orleans.”

Kirael’s brows knit. “In America?”

“Better than… where are again?” Lucan asked, looking around.

Before Kirael could answer, Mere Marie cut in.

“What have you got to lose, Kirael?”

His stomach lurched as her words sunk in.

“Honestly?” he said. “Nothing. I have nothing to left to lose.”

“You’ll fit in perfectly, then,” she said. “Now, then. Someone fly me out of here, I don’t like the damp.”

In that moment, Kirael’s life shifted with the breeze, heading in a new direction…

V
esper Emery stalked
her prey down a dim alleyway, keeping her footsteps light and silent. Rickety, rusting fire escapes clung to the building beside her, throwing deep shadows against the sickly pale moonlight that trickled down into the alley.

She held her two golden Tanto short swords at ready, advancing down the cramped alley. She knew there would be no escape in sight. Vesper knew every inch of the city by heart, especially the shadowed, seedy parts.

If you wanted to hunt demons and other Kith baddies, well… they usually didn’t hang out at the Four Seasons.

When she was only a dozen paces from the end of the alley, a solid wall of gray brick rising into the night sky, her quarry materialized. The dark edges of the Vesnu demon materialized first, then the whole thing grew solid.

All seven feet of it, including the leathery red scales, sharp black fangs, and eight flailing arms covered in razor-sharp ridges.

“Stand down!” Vesper called. “If you don’t resist, I won’t hurt you…”

The Vesnu hissed at her, black foam dripping from its fangs. It puffed up its chest, standing bigger than ever, and Vesper rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she muttered.

Then the Vesnu launched itself at her with a growl, and Vesper threw herself into the fight with a whirl of blades and curses. In less than a minute, she’d severed three of its arms and had it pinned to the ground, a blade tip pressed to the main artery running through its soft underbelly.

“Quit whining, they’ll grow back,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you didn’t want to get orbed, maybe you shouldn’t have attacked the niece and nephew of one of the wealthiest werewolves in the whole city, hmm?”

The Vesnu grunted, perhaps saying something in its own weird language, but Vesper just shrugged.

“I guess baby werewolf just looks irresistibly tasty to Vesnus, huh?” She moved back a couple inches, then tsked when the Vesnu tried to move. “Dude, I caught you fair and square. Do me a favor, don’t struggle. These are brand new leather pants and I’m trying to keep them nice.”

The Vesnu hissed again and shook its big head. Vesper had to jump back to avoid the nasty black froth hitting her legs or feet. She had no idea if the creature’s spit could eat through her Doc Martens, but then again…

She didn’t really want to find out. She dropped the sword in her left hand and reached into a pouch at her waist, pulling out a fragile glass orb filled with swirling orange mist.

The Vesnu made a last-ditch attempt to rise and attack, but Vesper flung the orb to the ground beside it. The glass shattered, the mist began to seep out, and in seconds the mist had begun to wrap itself around the Vesnu’s body.

The Vesnu started to wail, knowing what was coming. The mist sucked at the creature and at the cement under its body. The Vesnu began to fade and sink at the same time, screaming all the while.

And then with a distinct slurp, the Vesnu vanished into the mist. The mist swirled into a ball and the glass orb reformed, sitting innocently on the ground.

Vesper clucked her tongue as she leaned down to pick up the orb, carefully returning it to the pouch at her waist. Though the Vesnu was now back in Hell where it belonged, a little piece of its essence was in the orb… proof positive of Vesper’s completed task.

Stooping to pick up the sword she’d dropped, she gasped when a fat glob of Vesnu blood slithered off the blade and onto her pants. The blood immediately began to smoke, and though she flicked the remainder off her knee with the tip of her cleaner blade, she could already see that the leather below would be scarred.

“Perfect,” she groaned. “Of course.”

She turned and headed down the alley again, spotting a clump of moss where she could wipe her blades. Thrusting them back into the holsters strapped over her red leather jacket, she reached into her jacket pocket and fished out her cell phone.

“Damn,” she muttered, seeing that it was already half past ten. She was late.

Nothing new, really. Capturing demons was unpredictable and near-fatal work at the best of times. Being punctual didn’t really rank on Vesper’s list of priorities, compared with fighting evil and not getting eaten.

Tonight, though, she felt a little bad. It was her weekly standing date with her big sister Mercy. Though the whole experience would be wretched, and Vesper would no doubt leave feeling much worse for it, she tried her best not to let Mercy down.

Heading out to Decatur Street, she pushed into the throng of late-night tourists, strolling and sipping their drinks as they enjoyed the spring weather in New Orleans.

She thumbed through her contacts, ready to call the driver to pick her up, but Murray anticipated her needs. He pulled up before Vesper in his battered red minivan, the same easygoing smile on his face as ever.

Vesper flung the door open and threw herself onto the single dusty leather bench seat, giving Murray the thumbs up to let him know the evening was successful.

Murray just nodded back to her, his giant white afro bobbing as he pulled into traffic.

“Buckle up, now,” he chided her gently.

“I’m late,” she sighed as she plucked the ratty seatbelt up and fastened it across her waist.

“I know,” Murray said, unruffled. “We gon’ get you there on time, just you watch.”

Vesper slumped back against the seat, drumming her fingertips against the leather as Murray turned off onto a less crowded street, picking up speed.

“I gotta go watch my grandkids after this,” Murray said. “My daughter gotta work the night shift up at Sisters of Mercy. You can get yourself home?”

“Mmhm,” Vesper said, turning to stare out the window. The French Quarter slipped by, and soon the bright colors of the Marigny neighborhood surrounded them.

“I don’t know where the entrance to the Gray Market is tonight, darlin’,” Murray said.

“It’s at Spain and Dauphine tonight,” Vesper said.

The Gray Market was a massive underground labyrinth of connected bolt-holes that meshed to form a sort of neighborhood for the paranormal Kith community. It held an open-air marketplace, the only supernatural hospital in New Orleans, and easily a hundred other Kith businesses.

“All right, all right!” Murray said, coming to a stop at the intersection.

“Thanks, Murray,” she said, handing him a twenty. “Have a good time with your grandkids, okay?”

“Will do.”

She climbed out of the van and trotted across the street to the spot where three cocoa-skinned teen witches stood, smacking their gum and trying to look casual.

The Gray Market was strictly eighteen years and up, but sometimes younger Kith could enter with their parents or slip in after someone else.

“Y’all don’t want to come in here,” Vesper said to them as she stalked up to a gorgeously blooming satsuma tree, its vibrant citrus fruit in full bloom despite the season. The air around it rippled a little, beckoning.

“Man, you don’t know us,” one of the young witches snapped back, tossing her long braids over her shoulder.

“It’s dangerous in the Gray Market,” Vesper said, shaking her head.

“It’s dangerous in my hood, I live six blocks from here,” the girl snapped back.

Vesper sighed. “Sorry, you’re not getting in with me.”

She stepped straight into the tree, careful to move quick so that the portal snapped shut right after her, leaving the three girls behind. She landed in the marketplace, amidst a hundred other people buying, selling, and passing through the stalls crammed with an endless variety of magical items.

Vesper felt a little twinge. Once upon a time, her sister Mercy had probably been one of those girls, drawn by rumors of all the Gray Market’s mysterious tenants and businesses.

Her lips pulled into a deep frown. If only Vesper had known, maybe she could have stopped Mercy’s path to ruin…

Giving herself a little shake, she pushed her way out of the marketplace and into a series of tight side streets. She knew the way by heart, and in less than a minute she stood before the dilapidated old house where Mercy turned up every Tuesday.

“You’re fucking late,” Mercy said, calling down from a second story window.

Well, more hole in the front of the house, less window. The glass and frame were totally gone.

“Hey Mercy,” Vesper said, peering up at her sister. “Can you come down? I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Mercy rolled her eyes and disappeared from the window. A few seconds later, Vesper heard her clattering down the stairs, then the door swung open. Mercy’s dark head appeared first, then her short, gaunt little body.

“You cut all your hair off,” Vesper said, her hand instinctively going up to her own head.

Mercy only shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of the oversized man’s shirt. It was all she wore, her knobby knees poking out, her dirty bare feet showcasing chipped pink polish on her toes.

Vesper and Mercy were nearly identical, only a year apart in age. They shared the same long, chocolate-brown hair and bright green eyes. Only now Mercy’s hair was shorn in a choppy line just below her earlobes, her green eyes hazy.

“You’re fucking loaded,” Vesper said, her mouth setting in a grim line. “What are you on now? Vampire blood? Pixie dust?”

“Pfft, whatever. I’m high. So what? Quit being such a… a…” Mercy mumbled, pulling a single loose cigarette from her pocket and sticking one end in her mouth.

“A productive member of society?” Vesper asked, crossing her arms.

Mercy snorted, glancing over her shoulder and wandering away from the house. At the end of each visit, Vesper always gave Mercy a little food money, unable to cope with the idea of Mercy going hungry.

Clearly Mercy didn’t want anyone else to know about it, or maybe she didn’t want Vesper overhearing anything else that went on in that junkies’ paradise she called a home.

Either way, they usually walked a few blocks and talked, though Mercy never seemed interested in much beyond earning a few bucks.

“I wish you’d come home with me,” Vesper told her sister.

Mercy rolled her eyes and took a drag of her cigarette, scratching at her scalp. Her hair was already a little matted at the nape, god knew how.

“I ain’t staying in that fucking apartment of yours. One fucking room of it’s yours, the rest is… what’s her name...”

“Aurora.”

“Yeah, hers. And that bitch is weird.”

The last time Mercy surfaced into the human world to visit Vesper, she’d had a little run-in with Vesper’s roommate Aurora. The beautiful, secretive blonde witch took one look at too-thin, shifty-eyed Mercy and fled the room.

“She’s not a bitch. She’s just… private,” Vesper said, feeling the need to defend Aurora. That said, they’d lived together two years and Vesper barely knew more than her name.

“Look,” Mercy said, raking her untrimmed nails up her arm, scratching viciously at her skin. “I don’t really have a lot of time to talk today.”

“Mercy…” Vesper sighed. “Why don’t you come home with me, just for the night? Take a shower, get a good meal, I can fix you up with some new clothes…”

Mercy’s lips thinned. “Naw. You know I can’t leave. I owe my Masters more than I could ever pay back.”

“Mercy…”

“If you’d ever been bitten by a Vampyre, you’d like it,” Mercy said, her mind wandering. “You’d like it, just like I do. It’s… like a thousand dreams, wrapped in luxury…”

“Mercy, they got you addicted to drugs so that you’d give them an endless supply of blood. Which isn’t endless, by the way, which I’m sure you fucking know. Eventually your body will just give up,” Vesper said, temper flaring.

“I’m fine. I like it here, sorta.”

“You’re not fine,” Vesper said, trying to keep her tone neutral. “You’re hard up for a fix, and… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep giving you money. It’s like my guilt is helping to put you in the grave. What good is any of it doing? Look at you…”

“Don’t be like that,” Mercy said, her eyes going wide as she turned to pleading. “Next time, I promise. I’ll come home with you. For real. And I’ll start saving some money, paying back what I owe my Masters…”

Vesper’s heart broke into a thousand little pieces, because for a second she could tell that Mercy really meant it. Not that she’d follow through; it was impossible for her to walk away from the next fix.

But Vesper could see the old Mercy for a second, a vibrant and genuine girl who liked makeup and cheerleading and sneaking into the movies. It struck Vesper that Mercy was twenty-eight this year, and if things hadn’t gone off track, Mercy would be going to her ten year high school reunion this year.

“Ves,
please
,” Mercy said, starting to look panicked.

Vesper was already reaching into her back pocket, pulling out the three twenties she’d tucked away earlier in the day. She handed them over with obvious reluctance.

Mercy beamed at her, throwing her skinny arms around Vesper’s neck to hug her. Vesper was on the thin side herself, willowy since childhood, but Mercy was skin and bones by comparison.

“Shit, Mercy,” Vesper whispered, feeling tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

Mercy didn’t hear her, though. Her sister was already turning away, secreting the money somewhere under her shirt, heading back to the house.

“Next week, right?” Vesper called.

“Mmhmm,” Mercy said, making a beeline for the front door.

She vanished inside without a backward glance.

Vesper lost control suddenly, turning to kick a dingy plastic garbage can that lay in the street. She felt so helpless, knowing that if she didn’t give Mercy money, her sister wouldn’t eat. Knowing that what little Vesper did give her probably went straight to drugs and Mercy probably hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

“Fuck!” she said, feeling the weight of it all on her shoulders.

She allowed herself to kick the trash can a couple more times. Then she stopped, shoulders sagging.

“Impressive display.”

She turned to find a tall, dark-haired Vampyre standing in the doorway of the house. His skin was dark as fresh loam, which startled her; Vampyres were usually Caucasian and paler than death itself.