Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (42 page)

Dar raised a shaggy eyebrow. “And if they don’t?”

I stood up to face him, snapping my wings to their full span. Golden light hummed from me, and I leaned close to Dar. “I’ll be watching. In the dark of the night, hidden in the shadows of the day, I’ll be watching.”

Dar made a strangled noise. “I think I just shit my fur. Damn, Mal, you are one scary mother-fucker.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” I folded my wings and returned to what I hoped looked like a normal human.

“I’ll say. So what’s your game plan, besides bullying the elves? Rolling in Ahriman’s riches? Scaring the piss out of demons with your angel-in-Hel routine? Are you heading back to Wyatt and your life there?”

Remembrance crashed through me. I was damned.

“I can’t cross the gates, Dar. Can’t activate them, can’t go through them at all. Gregory had to banish me, and now I’m trapped here.”

Dar’s red eyes searched my face. “The elf gates are closed, but they could make another.”

I snorted. The elves weren’t exactly my friends right now, even with the influence of my big-ass wings, and gates weren’t something sorcerers could do. An idea wormed its way into my mind. “I need a marble, like Kirby has.”

“Or a pair of ruby slippers.”

I caught my breath, looking down at my filthy bare feet. I was an ang… no, I was a
special
demon. With skills we’d lost nearly three-million years ago, with wings we’d lost when we were kicked out of Aaru. Maybe I had other talents as well.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me if this doesn’t work?” I asked Dar as I got to my feet to stand in front of him.

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

How did Gregory do this? He didn’t make any hand movements like the elves did when they transported themselves from spot to spot. He just pulled me close and off we went.

Home. I closed my eyes and thought of my kitchen, and the smell of coffee. I thought of the sun warming my skin as I sprawled by my pool, the feel of wingless flight as I jumped fences on my horse, the way Wyatt stroked the inside of my thighs, the feel of Boomer’s velvety ears. Home.

I peeked open an eye and saw Dar before me, eyebrows raised. Pushing down the sick feeling that rolled through me, I squeezed my eyes shut and thought again. Wyatt, his blue eyes laughing, sharing some joke as we sat on his ratty, chip-encrusted couch. Gregory making me coffee, teaching me, sharing his form in a spray of fireworks. Gregory kissing me in Juneau, holding me during my ‘punishment’, saving me when I thought all was lost. My angel. My nemesis and my savior all rolled into one. I just wanted to see him again, to see everyone I loved. I wanted to go home. The longing ached like no pain I’d felt before. Home.

My stomach twisted, every cell compressing painfully as if I’d been squeezed in a vise. It only took a second, then everything released. I staggered with vertigo and opened my eyes.

This wasn’t home. It was a place filled with nothing: a wall of white where none of my human senses worked. My skin itched. Aaru. What a complete fuck-up.

I felt a presence near me—multiple presences. No one addressed me, but their hostile intent felt like a lit match in my head. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Aside from the punishments, when Gregory had snatched me from the jaws of death, and the times I’d done a quick ring-and-run into his circle from the gate in Sharpsburg, I’d never been. I wasn’t allowed.

I felt them move closer. The only thing saving me was probably their uncertainty in attacking me. Where was Gregory? I couldn’t feel him without our bond, and I knew he couldn’t feel me either. Would these angels tear me to bits before he realized I was here?

A streak of white came toward me, and instinctively I raised my arm, deflecting the blast with a sword that appeared from nowhere in my hand. The angels retreated, and I felt a sense of confusion mixed with anger and loathing. As much as I hated this sword, at least it had come to me now, and it was probably the only thing keeping these angels from killing me.

“Stay back,” I ordered, trying to keep the fear from my voice. My wings flared, and I did a quick sweep with the sword. I wasn’t the least bit skilled in fighting with this weapon, but I figured I could hack down a few angels if I needed to. They jumped back as one, giving me space. I felt them murmur, like a thousand voices at once, and knew I didn’t have much time. Where was the exit? There had to be a way out somewhere?

“I want to see….” My voice trailed off as I realized I had no idea what Gregory’s real name was. He’d never told me. I’d never asked. He was always just Gregory to me. Or Asshole.

“I want to see my angel.” Which sounded an awful lot like “I want to see my Mommy.” Fuck. I was so dead. Their murmurs increased, and I felt them edging forward, testing me. They surrounded me, and I spun around like a top, keeping my sword in front and pointed to where I sensed one coming closer than the rest of the group.

The crowd parted like water, and one came forward, shimmering into corporeal form as he approached. Gregory, with all of his wings revealed and open. I felt a wave of relief, even if he did have his sword in hand, but as he approached, I saw beneath his corporeal form, to the battered spirit inside.

“What the fuck happened to you? Shit, you look worse than I do.”

He ignored my questions, his eyes moving from the Sword of the Iblis up to my face where his gaze halted as he searched my eyes with his. Didn’t he recognize me? How could he not recognize me? I looked the same, looked like Samantha Martin, didn’t I?

He frowned and shifted, relaxing his grip on the sword, then something caught his attention off to the side of my body, and his eyes opened wide.

“Is it… you?” he asked, as though he were afraid to say my name, the name he’d given me.

“Yes.” My wings shivered, extending slightly as if they had a will of their own. Again his eyes were drawn to them.

“You’re an angel.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing from his tone. Not that it mattered—I
wasn’t
an angel.

“No, absolutely not. I’m a mutated demon. That’s what I am.”

His lips twitched into a smile, his eyes growing warm. I could tell he was going to humor me in my delusions—at least for now.

“Are you going to use that sword? If not, I’d suggest you put it away.”

I looked around at the non-corporeal angels still surrounding us, then down at the sword still in his hand. “You first.”

The sword vanished, and once again his eyes were drawn to my wings. He frowned, and fear lanced through me.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “I’m not an angel, I’m not. I’m still me. I’m still your Cockroach.”

I was going to break inside, shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t say something, do something. All my doubts flooded me. What if he didn’t love me anymore? I’d become something else—a
special
demon. Maybe that was too far removed from the imp he’d fallen in love with.

His gaze returned to my face, warm and sympathetic. “You will always be my Cockroach.”

Then he held his arms wide and I ran, tossing my sword aside as I dove into his embrace. I buried my face into his polo shirt and clung to him with all my might. His hand stroked my hair, his spirit-self gently examining the edges of mine.

“You’re an angel.” I felt the breath of his voice on my hair, his chest reverberating against my cheek.

“No. A mutated demon. I am not an angel. Don’t you dare call me that!”

He chuckled. “An Angel of Chaos. My choir was shocked senseless. One hasn’t been seen in Aaru for two and a half million years. One hasn’t been seen
anywhere
in two and a half million years. What happened?”

I leaned back so I could see his face. “I let all my Owned souls go. And… I know you said to eat you, so I hope it’s okay that somehow I kinda did.”

He examined my spirit-being further. “This wasn’t what I thought would happen. I expected it would enable you to repair your lost functions quicker, not turn you into an angel.”

“I’m not an angel,” I protested hotly.

His eyes traveled to my side. “I like your wings.”

It sounded sexual, like he was saying I had a nice rack or a hot ass.

“How can I hide them, like you do? It’s not exactly convenient walking around with a fifty-foot wingspan. How am I supposed to get in my car? Or sleep on my side? Fuck, I can’t even manage to squeeze through half the doorways.”

He smiled, and my heart lurched at the sight. “I’ll show you how to do it. But they’ll always be visible to other angels. As they should be.”

I glanced and clearly saw his—the six wings, cream with a spider-web pattern and tips of gray. Mine shivered in response, and his eyes again darted to them, something akin to lust sparking in their black depths. Dragging his gaze to my face, he ran a hand through my hair, picking up a strand to rub it between his thumb and forefinger. It was such a familiar gesture that I nearly cried. I thought I’d never see him again, that I’d never leave Hel alive.

“You came to me,” his voice was husky. “Here in my very own fourth circle of Aaru. Home.”

Home. I’d wanted to go home. But it wasn’t Aaru that drew me, that signified home in my heart, it was this angel. Home would always be wherever he was.

“Wyatt is distraught over your absence, as are all the humans and other creatures that follow you. We should go to them and celebrate your return.”

We. I smiled up at him, skimming my hands down his waist to touch the skin under his huge polo shirt. “Can you give me a lift? I’m not very good at this yet and I don’t want to wind up in Siberia by accident.”

He drew me in close, and I felt that familiar, disorienting sensation as he transported us. I was an angel, no, a
special
demon. Everything had changed except the things that really mattered, like the feel of being in my angel’s arms. Whatever the future held—Wyatt and my human friends, the elves, the humans in Hel, my demon household, the Ruling Council, none of that worried me as long as I had my angel by my side.

About the Author

Debra Dunbar primarily writes dark fantasy, but has been known to put her pen to paranormal romance, young adult fiction, and urban fantasy on occasion. She lives on a farm in the northeast section of the United States with her husband, three boys, and a Noah’s ark of four legged family members. When she can sneak out, she likes to jog and ride her horse, Treasure. Treasure, on the other hand, would prefer Debra stay on the ground and feed him apples.

Connect with Debra Dunbar on
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, on Twitter @Debra_Dunbar, or at her
website

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Books in the Imp Series:

A DEMON BOUND
(Imp Series, Book 1)

Samantha Martin is an imp, enjoying an extended vacation from Hel. All she wants to do is drink beer by the pool, play mischievous pranks on the humans, and get her hot neighbor in the sack. It’s a relaxing break from her infernal home, as long as she manages to avoid the angels, who won’t hesitate to execute her on sight.

But when her naughty hellhound lands her in trouble with the local werewolf pack, Sam is blackmailed into helping track and catch a killer. The steps she must take to appease the werewolves will put her right in the crosshairs of the angels. And with angels, there is no second chance.

SATAN'S SWORD
(Imp Series, Book 2)

Samantha Martin is an imp, bound by an angel who allows her to live among the humans… as long as she follows his rules. It’s not easy for an imp to follow the rules, especially when Sam’s brother, Dar, finds himself in hot water. He needs her help to retrieve an artifact from the vampires, or the powerful demon he owes a favor to will enslave and torture him for centuries. It should be a simple courier job, but with demons nothing is simple. Sam reluctantly attempts to help her brother, trying not antagonize the vampires or the demon gunning for him, all while chafing to comply with the restrictions her angel has placed on her as a bound demon.

ELVEN BLOOD
(Imp Series, Book 3)

Sam may be the Iblis, but she is also an imp with a price on her head. The powerful demon, Haagenti, won’t rest until she’s dragged back to Hel for “punishment”. Sam knows she can’t face Haagenti and win, so when an Elf Lord offers to eliminate the demon in return for her help, Sam jumps at the chance. It’s a simple job – find and retrieve a half-breed monster dead or alive. But finding this demon/elf hybrid isn’t proving easy and time is running out.

DEVIL’S PAW
(Imp Series, Book 4)

For once no one wants to kill Samantha Martin. She’s free to do all the things a mischievous imp loves to do- like remove all the county speed limit signs, and wrap City Hall in crime scene tape. Her only worry beyond organizing the delivery of her boyfriend’s birthday present, is writing those pesky four nine five reports for the Ruling Council of Angels. But imps can never stay out of trouble for long.

Demon corpses have been found drained of all energy, their spirit selves ripped clean from their bodies. Sam’s angel, Gregory, considers her a prime suspect, so when an angel is discovered dead in the same manner, he drags her to Seattle and Juneau to try to clear her name. The race is on to find the murderer before Sam’s secret is exposed and she’s blamed for the deaths. But is a devouring spirit really the killer, or is there more to the deaths than either Sam or Gregory suspect?

IMP FORSAKEN
(Imp Series, Book 5)

Sam is banished to Hel, the bond with her angel, Gregory, broken. Six Elven kingdoms are battling for supremacy, and she’s broken and injured in the middle of the most hostile one. Shooting the top off a royal throne, committing fraud in the completion of a contract, and threatening a high lord hasn’t endeared her to the elves, either. If she wants to free the enslaved humans they hold, she’ll need to find a way to help unite their kingdoms.