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  “Why me? Send Gabe. Or some other angel. Closing rifts isn’t really my strength.”

  “I know. Trust me, I wouldn’t send you if anyone else was available.”

  That was pretty darned insulting, but I was used to it. It wasn’t that Micha doubted my abilities even though I was the least powerful compared to my three remaining siblings. Micha, as well as the others, doubted my dedication, my ability to focus on the task at hand, my ability to take anything seriously.

  I cared. I really did care. It’s just that my brothers always seemed to assign me the most boring tasks, and there was always something more interesting going on nearby. Absolutely not my fault.

  And he was right. I probably would muck this up. “Send Chialiel. He’s looking to advance. He’ll jump at the chance to do this.”

  Sycophant. If that angel got any more up Micha’s ass, he’d need to do penance for sodomy.

  “I can’t send Chialiel. I need an archangel in case that rift opens too close to the gateway. I need someone with the skill to stabilize it and make sure it doesn’t detonate. That’s you.”

  There were other archangels, but Gabe was struggling to hold Aaru in the face of rebellion, Micha had his hands full leading the Grigori, and Uriel was on a pilgrimage and basically off the grid. It seemed I was the only one left.

  “Fine. I’ll go to Alaska, close these rifts and make sure the gateway doesn’t go boom.”

  Micha gave me a stern look. “No getting the guardian drunk, or running off to hunt polar bears with the werewolves, or rappelling naked down the side of a mountain. I mean it, Raphael.”

  He did mean it if he was calling me by my formal name. I held back the eyeroll and gave him my most serious expression. “Yes. All business. I promise.”

  My brother eyed me then sighed in resignation. “You’ll need a demon to partner with.”

  I hid a grin. “Sam? Can I have Sam?”

  There was a very intentional change in my vibration pattern — a change angels got when they were thinking very naughty thoughts. I had no plans to lure my brother’s imp of a lover out of his arms and into mine, but I enjoyed teasing him. Micha didn’t have a jealous bone in his manifested body except when it came to her friendship with me. Sam and I were buddies, but I got the feeling Micha often wished me as far away from her as possible. Which probably had something to do with this assignment in Alaska.

  “No, you cannot have my Cockroach,” Micha scowled. “The pair of you are like a flame and dry tinder. With the two of you together I don’t need to fear a rift exploding the gateway, you’d do it on your own.”

  “Fine.” His fears were not unfounded. Sam was chaos incarnate and an imp, and I was…well I was probably the least angelic angel in Aaru. I still hadn’t grown used to an imp on the Ruling Council, or of demons who had diplomatic immunity and were free to walk among us. After so long apart, it seemed we were finally coming together.

  I reached out and touched the gateway in front of me, one of the seven that led to Hel — the land of the demons, the land where nearly three million years ago we’d banished half our angels after a bloody war. Recently there had been a battle between a demon and two angels that had demolished the mall, but thankfully left this gateway undamaged.

  “So are you keeping this one here?” I asked Micah. “It seems like an odd place, in the middle of the shopping mall. I figured you’d take the opportunity to move it somewhere more remote.”

  “I have been overruled. It seems the consensus is that a shopping mall is the perfect place for a gate to Hel,” Micha drawled. “I put forward the idea of relocating it only to be informed that the only acceptable options would be the Prime Outlets in Hagerstown or the casino in Anne Arundel County.”

  I stifled a laugh. “You are so whipped.”

  “No, I have not yet been whipped.” He kicked a piece of concrete with his toe. “Not for lack of her trying, though. I've been offered that delightful experience numerous times but have so far managed to decline.”

  “I expect I’ll be seeing you with whip marks sometime this month?”

  “Yes, probably so.” He shrugged, shooting me a sheepish grin. “She does tend to talk me into things.”

  Totally whipped. It made me jealous. Not that I really wanted someone whipping me, though that did sound like a fun experience. I was jealous of the closeness Micha and Sam had. I was jealous of the bond they had, that they’d each found their match, their perfect other, the one who complimented and completed them. Micah was six billion years old. He was double my age. Would I need to wait another 3 billion years to find what he had? Would I ever find what he had? There were times when I felt I was destined to always be alone — the crazy angel, the one who wasn’t fully an Angel of Order, but not quite an Angel of Chaos either.

  “I’ll leave this afternoon. I’m assuming you’ll send some decently skilled demon to assist me?”

  Otherwise there wasn’t much use in my going. I could close the rifts, I just couldn’t see them. These projects required two — a demon to locate the rifts, and an angel to close them. If Micha didn’t have an available demon to send with me, I’d need to wander around the state, hoping to stumble blindly into one of the rifts. Alaska was a big state. That could take decades. And from what he said, we didn’t have decades.

  The glance my brother sent my way wasn’t reassuring. “I’ll get you one. Who, I don’t know. Maybe that information demon. She’s proven useful. She’s a little odd, but I think you would get along with her.”

  Why did that sound like Micha was setting me up on a blind date? “Whatever. Just make sure one shows up tonight, otherwise I might have to occupy myself with body-shots, skinny dipping in the glacier lakes and wrestling walruses.”

  That got a laugh out of my normally staid brother. “Times like this I wonder how you ever were designated an Angel of Order, Rafi.”

  It was something everyone else, myself included, wondered as well.

  Chapter 3

  Ahia

  A chill spring breeze tore through the mountain passes, riffling my feathers and nearly knocking me off the rocky ledge. It was gorgeous up here. April meant there was still snow among the trees and patches of brownish-green grass below. There was ice rimming the edges of lakes and rivers, along with a glorious bite in the crisp air. But spring was marching across the north, causing hardy flowers to bloom like splashes of color in the snow, and gifting the trees with golden-green buds.

  Martin Lake was a mile away as the crow— —or in my case Nephilim— —flies. It was huge, a dark greenish gray with a surface that reflected light like sea-glass in the afternoon sun. Even at this distance I could clearly see the hydra prowling close to the shore, and the twisted hull of a fishing boat floating nearby. Wings weren’t the only perk of being a half-angel, but super-sight wasn’t really necessary when a big, multi-headed monster bobbed above the water.

  My pack helped to control the chimeras that were crossing through into Chichagof Island, but I’d told them as well as the Alpha of the Swift River Pack that killing this hydra had now become my sole responsibility. Two of them were already dead and one quite possibly lame for the rest of her life — and werewolves were legendary for their ability to quickly heal any wound. Luckily I was built of sturdier stuff. The werewolves might be descended from Nephilim, but I was first generation and thus harder to injure. And based on all the things that had happened to me in the last five thousand years, I had a strong hunch that I was immortal.

  There. The hydra was finally in a position where it wouldn’t see me coming. I’d need to fly fast and be ready so I dropped the pack from my back and dug out my supplies, wishing that being a Nephilim meant additional limbs. I could really use a few extra hands right now.

  Stepping off the cliff I fell, holding my wings tight to gain speed. About fifty feet from the ground I spread them outward, feeling muscles strain as I transferred my downward momentum into lateral. By the time I hit the hydra I was ten feet from the water and
moving at roughly forty miles per hour. I plowed into the creature, snapping my wings backward before hiding them safely in the ether. I’d learned the hard way that they were my most vulnerable spot. A bite there would disable the wing for weeks and probably end with me drowning.

  I wouldn’t die, but it would be most unpleasant as well as embarrassing. The werewolves would never let me hear the end of it. I’d drowned, I’d crashed into the side of a mountain, and one time I’d fallen three hundred feet into a crevasse. I’d been mauled by a grizzly — which seemed to happen at least once a year. Grizzlies didn’t like me. They didn’t like werewolves either, but I seemed to be on the top of their shit list.

  It took the hydra seconds to recover. After slamming into the side of the creature, I’d quickly wrapped my arms around one of the heads, holding tight to my supplies. It thrashed and bucked like a rodeo bull nearly giving me whiplash. Somehow I managed to hold on, container of Morton iodized salt in one hand, obsidian knife in the other. This better work. The textbook way to kill a hydra was to have one person cut off a head, then the other cauterize the wound before it sprouted two more. Rinse and repeat. There was a problem with that method. I didn’t have either Hercules or another Nephilim to help me and I wasn’t about to risk a werewolf life. I thought once more about the assistance I’d requested. Of course, whoever they sent would be just as likely to kill me as this hydra.

  The creature realized it wasn’t going to dislodge me and dropped the head I was riding down low, snapping at me with the other two. I’d read somewhere that hydra have nine heads. This one thankfully had three. I wasn’t sure if my resource was in error, or if that meant this was younger than others. All I knew was that I was grateful. Having two heads trying to take a chunk out of my flesh was two more than I really wanted to deal with, eight would have made this task impossible.

  This was the moment when I needed more than two hands. I gripped the thing with my legs, slashed with the knife and frantically tried to get the metal spout on the salt container open without dropping the darned thing. Finally, I gave up and opened it with my teeth, making it all the more difficult to defend myself against two snapping heads.

  It bit me. It hurt. Then I didn’t feel anything at the wound. Before my whole arm went numb and the salt fell from my hand, I managed to pour half the container into the gaping hole where a hydra head had once been. It screamed, then bit me a few more times while I tried to hold on with one arm, the other numb and useless.

  Right before my eyes three heads grew from the salted neck. Damn it all, this wasn’t going to work. I let go and tried to hold on with my legs, using my one working arm to stab the thing with the knife. The three brand-spanking-new heads twisted around to latch onto my shoulders and waist, sending venom through my body. My heart stopped. My lungs seized. The hydra shook me like a rag doll and threw me onto the shore where I bounced across boulder-sized rocks and crashed into the trunk of a pine tree.

  My last thought before my brain shut down was that I needed help. I seriously needed help. And I needed the help of someone with more skills and power than a werewolf.

  “I need help. As in right now, not next month, not next week. Now.”

  Nisroc eyed me in astonishment. His light brown wings expanding as he walked over and stuck a finger against my cheek. “What in all of creation happened to you?”

  “Hydra.” I was having to articulate carefully because my whole body, including my mouth, was swollen. I’m sure I looked like an over-inflated parade balloon. Evidently hydra venom isn’t as easy to metabolize as rattlesnake.

  Nisroc nodded, as if my answer clarified everything. “I asked for help. They’ll send someone either today or tomorrow, probably a minor angel along with a demon. Evidently closing these rifts is a team activity.”

  Nisroc was a minor angel, a gate guardian. I know he lacked the skill to close the gateways because he was the first one I’d turned to for assistance. Whatever minor angel they were sending, he or she had to be of a higher level than Nisroc.

  The gate guardian had become somewhat of an honorary pack member after a rocky introduction to the area. The heavenly host had decided in their infinite wisdom to put a gateway to Hel on top of Devil’s Paw, the nose-bleed high mountain peak of the range separating this section of Alaska from Canada. Used to having autonomy and independence from the angels that few packs enjoyed, the werewolves bristled at the arrival of an intruder. Eventually we’d all come to an understanding—and part of that understanding was that Nisroc kept my secret. It was a task he’d taken on with surprising enthusiasm, becoming a sort of affectionate, over-protective uncle.

  Well, I thought of him as an uncle. It had become clear within seconds of meeting him that the gate guardian had other feelings for me. He’d never openly declared anything but friendship, and hadn’t made any moves on me, but from the way he looked at me, the way he occasionally brushed against my wings with his shoulder, I knew he wanted more than friendship. It was weird. My whole life I’d been told angels would kill me on sight and the first one I meet in five thousand years had a schoolboy crush on me. It made me wonder if the danger was greatly exaggerated. Maybe there never had been a cause for me to fear angels. Maybe things had changed in five thousand years and up here in Alaska we hadn’t gotten the memo. Either way, it was clear I had nothing to fear from Nisroc beyond some sappy looks and the occasional bossiness.

  “You do realize this means you’ll have to go into hiding. No tourist-shop job. No drinking with the werewolves at the Fjord. No leaving your house. In fact, I think you should stay in the basement of your home for a few months, just to be safe. I can bring you food.”

  Did I mention bossiness? Nisroc seemed about as dangerous as a kitten. I wasn’t convinced another angel would rip me apart even if he did somehow discover my presence. Still, it would be wise to lay low, just in case. Although I wasn’t about to cloister myself to the degree this angel was mandating.

  “I’m not losing my job, Nisroc. And I’m not hiding in my basement. I’ll stay out of the way. I won’t fly around the glaciers, I won’t visit you up here, but I’m going to live my life.”

  The angel scowled. “No shape-shifting. Or using any energy at all. I don’t know who they’re sending but some angels are very good at sensing that sort of thing. He can’t know you’re here. I still think it would be best to stay in your basement. I’ll check on you to bring you food. I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll protect you.”

  I rolled my eyes. Whoever the Ruling Council sent would be busy running around closing rifts, and hopefully killing that hydra. Plus, if they were bringing a demon, they’d have their hands full. I’d never met a demon, but I heard they broke a lot of rules. I wasn’t big on rule-breakers, and I was pretty sure angels felt the same. I could break the rules, but I really didn’t like it when others did. Actually the thought of a demon in my Alaska gave me far more anxiety than the thought of an angel here. Someone better keep a tight leash on that thing, or I would have to come out of my hidey-hole in the basement and open up a whole can of whoop-ass on its leathery wings.

  “I mean it, Ahia.” Nisroc shook a finger at me. ‘Lay low. I’ll be very upset if you’re found out.”

  I knew he’d most likely lose his life if he had to defend me, and defend me he would. I knew that, and it made me more sympathetic toward his excessive paranoia. “Fine. I’ll stay in Juneau and remain in human form. But I’m working, and I’m still hanging with the werewolves. And I’m still going to drink beer at the Fjord.”

  He grunted in reluctant agreement. “I’ll need for you to give me a map of where the rifts are, plus the location of the creatures, and I’ll make sure I pass it along to whoever the Ruling Council sends.”

  It was a good idea. Nisroc had assured me that the angel-demon duo would be able to find the rifts, but this would be quicker. Alaska was huge, and I didn’t want them to accidently miss any and have to come back. And I wanted to make sure they killed that hydra.

 
; Actually, I wanted to kill the hydra. I owed that thing, not just for my wounds but for the deaths of two werewolves and over a dozen humans. I’m sure an angel would be able to take care of something so minor as a hydra without breaking a sweat, but I still wanted a piece of the action.

  Oh well. Can’t always get what you want.

  “Will do. I’ll put together a map and a list. Meet me at my house tomorrow morning and I’ll give it to you.”

  Nisroc nodded, then grabbed me into a hug, his wings closing around me like a second set of arms. For a second the hug seemed to cross the line, then the angel stepped back, still holding my hands and giving me a quick, chaste kiss on the forehead.

  “Please be careful, Ahia. Be careful until this angel leaves. I…I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. You make this whole ghastly assignment bearable. You are the moonlight in a dark night. This angel can’t know you are here.”

  He’d always been over-protective, but this came uncomfortably close to a declaration of love. The only time I’d heard him this worried was when an archangel and some demon had come through town a few years ago and I’d had to leave to hide up in Fairbanks. “I thought you said the Ruling Council was sending a minor angel? I know I’m no match for one, but surely I’ll be safe from detection by a minor angel.”

  Nisroc gave my hands a squeeze then let go. “I just have a bad feeling about the angel they’re sending. I worry he might take you from me.”

  I smiled at him. Silly old fool. “Take me where? Alaska is my home. And if this angel does somehow manage to discover me, I’ll win him over with my incredible charm, just as I’ve done with you.”