My Avenging Angel (8 page)

“Boston.”

The one word mumbled into Skath’s shirt sent a chill down Michael’s spine and as a vicious curse was ripped from his chest, Evie began whimpering again. “Damn it, I’m not going to touch you. Did you tell the bastard anything else?”

When the woman didn’t respond, only vigorously shook her head, Michael turned away, striding back to Zadkiel who stood waiting on the opposite side of the room.

“Well?” his second questioned.

“The woman revealed Tory’s location. I must return to her immediately!” And as soon as Michael spoke her name, like a punch in the gut, he knew something was wrong. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled, teleporting to his mate’s location.

It took a minute for him to gain his bearings, for his body to adjust. In his confusion, he couldn’t understand the form huddled on the floor inches from the staircase or the larger hulking figure standing over it, screeching and shielding its eyes. The presence disappeared before Michael could react, a small fraction of time he knew would haunt him for eternity, and then he realized what the motionless mass on the floor was.

“Tory!” Her name tore out of him like thunder.

Michael rushed to her side before falling to his knees. Gathering her into his arms, he cradled her broken and bleeding body to his chest. He felt the cry bubbling up from his chest, forcing its way from his lips, and he clutched his mate to him, rocking her gently as he buried his face in her neck.

It couldn’t end like this. It wasn’t fair. All these centuries he’d spent protecting humans and he couldn’t keep one little woman from harm.

When the wetness hit Michael’s face he did not immediately recognize it for what it was. Tears. His tears. For the first time in his long existence, he was weeping. Even Lucifer’s betrayal had not brought him to his knees.

“My love, don’t do this to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, forcing him to choke out the words. “I won’t be able to survive without you. I am not strong enough.”

It’s funny really, what one considers when they believe they have hit bottom.

How the hell had Gabriel endured?

It was in that moment Michael realized even in the midst of his heart-wrenching sorrow he could still feel her soul inside him. It had not fled this dimension. In fact, it had never left her body. She lived. And then he remembered the blood he’d shared with her.

He was a fool.

He willed a small dagger into his palm and used the pointed edge to puncture his fingertip. A few drops of blood oozed from the wound before Michael thrust his finger into Tory’s mouth, rubbing it against the inside of her cheek. But he didn’t dare allow her to consume too much. He only wanted to give her enough to aid in her healing, not to turn her, forcing her to exist on his blood.

Raining kisses along her hair, her face, her neck, Michael gave thanks that he’d already had the forethought to take the necessary steps in prolonging her life. And considering how close she’d come to death, Tory might not want to remove his balls with a dull, rusted knife when she gained consciousness.

Well…he could hope. Sometimes humans got testy about their mortality.

Gently lifting her into his arms, Michael cradled her against his chest before slowly rising, careful not to jostle her and cause her anymore pain. With extreme care, he descended the stairs and moved toward the bedroom, stopping only when his knees brushed the mattress.

The sheets were still rumpled from when they’d made love, reminding Michael of the sense of home he’d found within his mate’s willing body. It only made him more determined to secure their future. Asmodeus would die for what he’d done to Tory and it no longer seemed to matter to Michael who delivered the killing blow. He would have all of his available warriors out scouring for the bastard because he intended to make certain the threat to his mate was eradicated. For good.

Except Zadkiel. Michael had a very special task for his second. Until Asmodeus was found he could not risk leaving Tory alone. But the portal to Heaven still needed to be located. As Zadkiel was the only other individual who understood the necessity in finding the damn thing quickly, he would leave no stone unturned until the job was done.

But before contacting Zadkiel with his new orders, Michael stripped Tory of her stained clothing, immensely relieved to find some of the wounds already closing. Gently cleansing her body, he removed all traces of blood from her skin. He would not have her waking still covered in the reminder of her attack. Then he hid her nudity underneath one of his T-shirts, an archaic sense of pride filling him in seeing his clothing draped across her skin.

Glancing down, he was reminded of the fact he was also covered in her blood. He couldn’t have her rouse to find him in this condition. After taking a quick shower, he dressed before returning to her side. She was still unconscious—she didn’t appear to have moved an inch—so after quickly examining her wounds once again and finding them continuing to heal, Michael drew the blankets over her before leaving her to rest.

But he didn’t go far, only to the living room. From there he summoned Zadkiel, who immediately appeared. Michael wasted no time making his demands known.

“I want Asmodeus dead. Now. Have every available warrior hunting that bastard down. Pull those not involved in life-and-death situations and find him.”

“Should he be held for you to dole out punishment?” Zadkiel questioned with a sardonic twist and Michael folded his arms across his chest.

“It doesn’t matter who kills him as long as he does not escape again.”

Surprise danced across Zadkiel’s face. “What has happened?”

Michael shook his head. He really didn’t want to give voice to the words. The knowledge of Tory’s attack left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “He was here,” was all he could manage to force past his lips and it was enough. Zadkiel turned white as a sheet.

“Good God. Is she okay?”

With a brisk nod, he turned his back on his second and strode across the room to stand next to the couch and stare sightlessly out the window. “She will live. Asmodeus had best not.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Zadkiel, wait,” Michael called, twisting quickly to catch the other male before he disappeared. Zadkiel paused, his look questioning.

“I have a special assignment for you. I want you to hunt for the portal.”

This must have surprised Zadkiel because his forehead furrowed, eyes narrowing, and he grew contemplative. “The portal? Well, I can’t say I saw that one coming but I should have.”

Michael glanced away, a niggling sense of guilt beginning to fester. “I will not allow Tory to be terrorized in such a way again.”

“You do realize if you do this she will no longer be a secret. You will not be able to hide her in Heaven.”

Returning his gaze to Zadkiel’s, he nodded. “Any humiliation or punishment I would be forced to endure is nothing compared to her safety. Tory is my only concern. The rest is incidental.”

With his head cocked to the side, Zadkiel studied him for a moment before responding, “I will do as ordered, my—”

“No,” Michael hastily interrupted. “I am asking this as a special favor. For me.”

A slow smile spread across Zadkiel’s face. “You know, this is the first time you’ve ever asked for my help.”

“And hopefully the last,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’m sure you’ll see you are suitably compensated.”

“Let’s just say you’ll owe me,” Zadkiel said with a chuckle. “You are not the first to find his mate and I’m sure you won’t be the last. I might need that favor someday.”

Michael snorted. God forbid Zadkiel mate. He needed someone he trusted to retain their faculties. This whole mating business drew a male to the edge of insanity. He’d been breaking one covenant after another since he’d first set eyes on Tory.

A weight lifted from Michael’s shoulders as Zadkiel faded from sight. It was good to know someone had his back. Once upon a time, it would have been Gabriel riding shotgun.

With a sigh, he decided it was best not to think about Gabriel right now. Tory should awaken soon. Maybe later he could find a way to mend the cosmic gap between him and Gabriel, but for now Tory was his one and only priority.

Chapter Nine

Asmodeus paced the tiny confines of his chamber, hissing in frustration. The bitch still lived. Why? He should be free. Why was she not dead?

It wasn’t from lack of trying on his part. He’d stabbed the bitch enough. But she’d continued to hang on. And then that sanctimonious bastard, Michael, had appeared. Michael. What the hell was he doing showing up? He never involved himself in the workings of humans. It was like a cardinal rule or something.

Ripping a hand through his hair, Asmodeus still couldn’t get over the shock. The fucking archangel Michael. He was growing weak. That’s why the son of a bitch had almost caught him. He’d known he would grow to regret letting the witch in Chicago live, but he’d been in such a hurry, thinking the end was within his grasp. Well, there was nothing else to do but find another meal. Something to last him several days. Then he would return and finish the job.

That drew a smile to his face. Yes, kill the bitch.

He came to a sudden halt, it finally hitting him. The look on Michael’s face just before he’d fled. The anguish. The fear. It was what had struck him wrong. Michael cared about the woman. She was important to him.

Could it be that easy? Could he possibly kill two birds with one stone?

If he could defeat the mighty Michael… Oh, how Lucifer would reward him. He’d set Asmodeus up as his right-hand man. And without Michael around there would be no one to stop them. They’d take their rightful places on Earth. As gods. Corralling the humans like cattle, feasting on their souls until they were too full to move.

Then Lucifer would be next. If he could wipe out Michael, what was stopping him from going all the way and taking over Hell? He’d be
it
. King of Hell.

Yes. King was good. Very good.

Chapter Ten

Tory woke, panic rolling through her, chagrined when she was unable to recall the reason. She couldn’t even remember how she’d ended up in bed. The clock on the nightstand read eight, which was obviously a.m. given the amount of sunlight flooding the bedroom.

Wait. How did it get to be daylight? The last thing Tory remembered was darkness had just fallen and Michael was leaving…but he was worried…about something. A demon?

Yes. That was it. A demon.

Tory jerked upright, the memory of the attack crashing over her. The demon’s damn sword had pierced her flesh over and over again. She’d never in her life encountered anything so painful. Not even when, at the age of twelve, she’d seriously botched up a spell and set her pants on fire.

This time though, the culprit hadn’t been a tiny little fire one of the stooges could put out with a great gust of wind. No, the sword had plunged into her, shredding major organs and destroying her from the inside out. She should be dead. At the very least, in the hospital clinging to life. So unless weeks had passed while she was out cold, something was very,
very
wrong.

Carefully edging off the bed, Tory expected pain but encountered only mild tenderness as she hobbled to the bathroom. Lifting the shirt that hung past her knees, she glanced down and spotted a thin white line where she was certain the blade had exited when it had gone through her body. A sense of panic overwhelmed her and, twisting in front of the mirror, she inspected her back, finding only a few areas of puckered skin. She tried to suck in a deep breath but a wheeze was all she accomplished as she fought back the terror.

What sounded like the door to the bedroom crashing into the wall drew tension through her until she heard Michael’s bellow.

“Tory! Love, what is it?”

Storming from the bathroom, she slammed the door behind her before meeting him in the middle of the room. “What the hell happened to me?” When the only response to her demand was a guilt-stricken look, she added, “What did you do to me?”

Michael refused to answer, turning his back on her and moving toward the window in a blatant attempt at avoidance.

“Is it that terrible?” she whispered, a sense of dread filling her. While she couldn’t imagine what it could be—she was alive after all—Michael’s actions confirmed it was bad.

He sighed, and then softly said, “I gave you some of my essence.”

Tory felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion. Essence? What the hell was he talking about? “You didn’t use a condom during sex. Is that what you mean?”

Michael shook his head slowly. “There was no need the first time. Until we bonded pregnancy was impossible and we angels do not suffer from mortal disease. No, Tory, I fed you my blood.”

“Eww. Your blood? What the hell did you do that for?” she demanded as she strode across the room, not stopping until she was standing right behind him.

Michael swiveled to face her, his piercing gaze meeting hers. “To make you immortal, my love.”

Okay, Tory hadn’t expected that to come from his mouth. “Immortal?” she repeated dumbly and Michael nodded. “Like immortal, immortal?”

His lips curved into a slight smile. “There’s only one kind of immortal, love. You either are or you’re not.”