Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6) Page 21

  I’d assumed responsibility for the Fallen, along with the radically expanded definition of that term. Having dominion over Hel was work enough. Even though there was no formal recognition of my authority, and the demon sections were pretty much life as usual, I had made a commitment to the humans there, and I would need to continually bust heads to keep the elves in line. Delegating that to Leethu and Dar would only buy me time. How was I going to juggle some serious smackdowns in Hel and manage the–fuck–knows–how–many Fallen angels and deadbeat humans? Knowing the Ruling Council, they’d want progress reports on each one, and a performance–improvement plan to raise their vibration level. What had I gotten myself into this time?

  Heat scorched the edges of my spirit–self, and I leaned toward the comfort of Gregory’s power. I was desperate to know if Harper was safe, but in spite of the empty feeling in Aaru, I wasn’t completely sure anything I said — or thought — would be private.

  She’s safe. And I’ve blocked this area so we can communicate without being overheard. Of course, that means everyone knows we’re discussing something we don’t want them to hear. Be discreet, Cockroach.

  I breathed deep in relief — or would have, had I been sporting lungs at that moment. How did it go?

  A bit dicey, actually. I felt his wry amusement. My sudden appearance in the Alpha’s residence caused quite an uproar. Let’s just say I haven’t been that clawed up and bitten since our last date night.

  I laughed, resting the entire weight of my spirit–self against him. The vision of my powerful, intimidating angel being jumped by dozens of half–transformed werewolves was downright hysterical. Poor Harper. Not exactly a good introduction to her new life, huh?

  No. Luckily that female Nephilim recognized her and got everyone to back off. Otherwise I would have been forced to use lethal means to defend myself. Given what she’s experienced of angels so far, I didn’t want to subject her to that level of violence.

  One werewolf wasn’t much of a problem, but a group could cause serious damage. They reminded me of those flesh–eating ants — they just kept coming and coming until they overwhelmed their prey. Enough werewolves — or humans for that matter — and even an angel could be taken down.

  So what do you plan to do with all these Fallen you are now responsible for — angels and humans?

  I had no stinking idea. Electroshock therapy? Slave labor? Or maybe I’ll just throw them through the gate to Hel and be done with it.

  That would not be advisable, Cockroach. You’re supposed to rehabilitate them, not slaughter them.

  Spoilsport. How am I supposed to raise their vibration level when mine is in the shitter? I refuse to set a good example for them. It’s not demonic.

  Then set a bad example. Show them the ramifications of the path they walk. They’ll take one look at you and be scared straight.

  Yeah, like you were? I rubbed against him suggestively. Gregory’s presence soothed all my fears. He made Aaru downright tolerable.

  Cockroach, you have no idea the terror I live in.

  Yeah, right. He didn’t exactly seem terrified as he pulled me tight against him, merging us in a fine line of white along our edges. I sighed and gave myself over to him, relishing the privacy and solitude my punishment in Aaru provided us.

  ***

  My house was as eerily quiet as Aaru had been. Harper was safely with the werewolves in West Virginia, Nyalla had taken Nils out to experience happy hour with Michelle and Candy and had left a note to not expect them home until late. Wyatt was still in Philadelphia — or was it Chicago at this point? For forty years I’d lived alone, but now I stood beside the sectional sofa in my great–room and felt the horrible ache of loneliness.

  “Do you want me to stay? Perhaps try those spicy chicken arms again?”

  “Wings. Hot wings.” I smiled and shook my head. He’d remain with me if I wanted, but I could tell there were things he needed to do. Who knows what kind of nightmare I’d caused up in Aaru. Hopefully the threat that any Fallen would report to me would keep them all toeing the line.

  “The thought of eating amputated and cooked wings is gruesome. I prefer to call them arms.”

  “What? The image of ripping the wings off something, plucking all the feathers out, then roasting them in a hot oven bothers you?” I teased him, running a hand along the glow of his hidden wings. “Pussy. You’d never make it in Hel. Ripping wings off is foreplay there.”

  “I’m not in favor of wing removal — either avian or angel. Let’s agree to disagree on the hot wings, and I’ll make you coffee instead.”

  His hand tangled in my hair, smoothing through the locks to catch a piece between his fingers, tugging it gently. Before I could reply, another angel appeared. Gabriel. I’d never seen him so distraught or disheveled — not even when we’d had a pastry smackdown in a Ruling Council meeting.

  “The sanctuary is compromised.”

  Sanctuary? I was momentarily confused, thinking he meant Aaru and wondering if some demons had managed to infiltrate the angel’s home. Then I realized they’d been calling the hidden spot for the Nephilim ‘sanctuary’ and froze in fear.

  Gregory stiffened against me, his hand gripping my hair painfully tight. “How? When?”

  The other angel sent me a look full of loathing. “While you were visiting the Iblis in her punishment. We were too busy trying to salvage the situation and move who we could to safety to send you notice.”

  I’d thought it had been oddly quiet in Aaru. How many angels had taken part in this? Were things so fractured and chaotic in heaven that angels felt free to leave and take vigilante action on another race of beings?

  “Which sanctuary?”

  I held my breath at Gregory’s question. No, don’t let it be the one with Jaq and Harper, I selfishly thought.

  “West Virginia. Alaska and Prussia are still secure.”

  “Survivors?”

  “The werewolves are scattered, but I believe over half of them have survived the attack.”

  “Who is safe?” I was practically in hysterics. “Harper? Jaq? Are they okay?”

  “Both are safe, for now. I was able to locate them and remove them from the battle zone before they were harmed. Trust me, the grown Nephilim was not pleased with my intervention.”

  I’ll be she wasn’t. From what I’d seen of Jaq, I could tell the woman was a fighter — one who would stay to defend her pack even against angels. My panic dropped away knowing that the two women were safe, but dread crept on its heels.

  “How … how could this have happened?” My voice was shaky and low as I turned from Gregory to Gabriel in search of an explanation.

  “How do you think it happened,” Gabriel snapped, his power a blast of arctic ice against my skin. “Clearly you were watched as you trotted back and forth, risking the half–angel’s life to bring her to your home.”

  “It could have been me.” Gregory put himself in between the pair of us. “I transported Harper this afternoon. I covered my path and our energy signatures well, but it’s possible another angel sensed me.”

  Gabriel took a step forward, stabbing a finger at me. “Nonsense. It was her — that inept, foolish creature. For thousands of years we’ve been able to hide the children away, and in a few short days, she’s destroyed one of our most secure sanctuaries. Their deaths are on your head, you nasty cockroach.”

  No one but Gregory was allowed to call me a cockroach, but more than the slur twisted me into a knot of pain and anger. I’d taken every precaution, but that obviously hadn’t been enough. Their deaths were on my head. But I wouldn’t be a demon if I didn’t succumb to the sin of anger and take it out on the nearest available being.

  With a shriek of rage, I pushed Gregory aside and launched myself at Gabriel, knocking him backward to the ground. We rolled across the floor, into chairs and walls as we fought. I pulled his black, spiky locks, gouged his eyes and bit him, elongating nails and teeth to do the most damage. Gabriel was just as vicious
, bashing my head against the table leg and twisting my limbs past the breaking point. I’m sure we looked like two feral alley cats screaming as the blood and sweat flew from us. Finally we both lay exhausted, panting, half under the broken bar stools. Gabriel was on top of me, still twisting one of my arms across my back just in case I discovered a second wind. He needn’t have bothered. I’d used up my second wind already.

  It was then, breathing through my mouth and broken nose, that I smelled the distinctive aroma of coffee.

  “If you are both finished, I suggest we sit down and figure out a plan to put the pieces of this mess back together again.”

  I felt no shame at Gregory’s words, but Gabriel turned bright red and jumped off me as if I were a plague demon. In a fraction of a second, we’d repaired our injuries and both of us took a seat at my dining–room table. Gabriel was faking an air of cool aloofness, but his hands kept darting here and there — smoothing his spiky hair, straightening his clothing, clearing a spot of blood from the table. As much as he professed to hate me, I think he found our fights to be downright cathartic — the only time he lost control and allowed all that anger and pain to come out. It was good for him. Like releasing steam from a pressure cooker. And I loved being the one to turn the valve.

  “Here.” Gregory put a mug of coffee in front of each of us and took a seat at the head of the table.

  “I don’t sully my vibration patterns with the consumption of food or drink,” Gabriel sneered, pushing the mug away.

  Gregory reached out and slowly moved it back toward the other angel. “It’s either this or the vodka. Trust me; you don’t want to drink the vodka. It takes half the flesh from the inside of your throat on the way down, and you wake up the next morning feeling as if a major portion of your brains are on the outside of your skull. Most unpleasant.”

  I choked as my coffee went down the wrong pipe. Gregory had been hungover? Damn, I had totally tempted this angel into sin.

  Gabriel took a tentative sip from his mug and grimaced.

  “Here.” Gregory upended my little sugar bowl over the other angel’s cup. “This helps mask the distastefully bitter flavor.”

  “Not bad,” Gabriel pronounced after another sip. The sour expression on his face was in stark contrast to his words. “So, step one is to transport the Nephilim to another sanctuary, and then locate the surviving werewolves and hide them.”

  Gregory nodded. “Not an easy task, given the increased scrutiny. Neither the Iblis nor I will be able to assist in this without drawing attention and risking the Nephilim further.”

  “I know how to get Jaq out. Harper is going to be more difficult to relocate safely.” I told the two angels about Kirby’s Marble, and its limitations.

  “Clever,” Gabriel mused. “Some humans clearly have put their angelic gifts to good use.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was decades of grueling lessons as a slave to the elves that had inspired this device.

  “So, Alaska or Prussia?” Gabe asked.

  Prussia. I barely held back a snort of laughter. This angel was so behind the times I was surprised he wasn’t calling the whole thing Pangaea.

  I slurped my coffee loudly, earning a look of hatred from Gabe. “We can let them decide. Maybe divide them fifty–fifty between the two. But what do we do about Harper?”

  “Wait until she gives birth?” Gabriel suggested. “The human can probably hide among the humans at that point. We could use the Kirby device to relocate the baby once it’s born, and she could follow him if she chooses.”

  Well, that idea was full of big holes. And I was happy to point them out. “Yeah, and who’s to say some smarty–pants angel won’t know to follow the mother? Besides, the focus device is a durft. Half–angel or not, there’s no way a baby is going to be able to hold onto one of those suckers long enough to get where he needs to go.”

  “I take it a durft is not a benign creature?” Gregory lifted one eyebrow as he took a sip of coffee.

  “Uh, no. I’d rather wrestle a komodo dragon — and trust me, I have.”

  Gabriel sat his full coffee cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Create another sanctuary?”

  Sounded like a good solution to me, but Gregory grimaced. “There are few humans who have the skills to cloak the territory and those within it. We don’t have the time to spare in locating one with the appropriate abilities — these Nephilim could be found at any moment.”

  Cloak? “Do you mean like the spell I have around my house? One where you can’t tell who is in it?”

  Gregory shook his head, and I felt his touch along my spirit–self. “No, Cockroach. That spell makes the area appear as if there is a hole of nothing at your home. It draws attention to the spot, although we cannot detect who or what is inside. To create a sanctuary, the humans and other beings must register in our senses — their energy must come through the barrier. Others are cloaked. There is also a slight keep–away aura that acts as a mild deterrent. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that we consider the area to be unsavory and choose to avoid going there.”

  That was a lot more complicated than Gareth would probably be able to handle. “I can check in Hel and see if there is a sorcerer who can do this. We’ve had a huge war among the elven kingdoms recently, though, and there aren’t as many high–level sorcerers as there used to be.”

  “That would be of great help, Cockroach.” Gregory smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand. “We’ll make discrete inquiries of our own and do all we can to keep the werewolves and Nephilim safe in the meantime.”

  “That might be more of a problem than you think,” Gabriel interjected. “The attack wasn’t just spurred by unregistered werewolves harboring Nephilim. There is word that proof has come about that the werewolves are descended from Nephilim. I expect at any moment, we will receive summons to review the data and pass judgment on the entire race.”

  I caught my breath, thinking of Candy and all the werewolf friends I’d made over the past few years. I’d do all I could to save them, but what could one imp do against the entire angelic host? I might be the Iblis, but I wasn’t a god.

  Gregory drained the contents of his coffee cup and stood. “Well then, we must find a solution immediately or decide which side of this war we will stand on, my brother.”

  –24–

  You out of jail already?” Nyalla’s breathless voice was barely audible above the background noise. She sounded happy, giddy almost. I hated to be the one to ruin her carefree night.

  “Where are you? Is Candy with you?”

  Candy had trusted me with her greatest secret. Jaq and the other werewolves had trusted me. Harper had trusted me. I felt sick at what had happened.

  “Yeah, her and Michelle. We’re at the Eastside. There’s an awesome band tonight. Come on down. Did you know Nils can dance? No joke; he’s actually pretty good. Angels dancing — isn’t that hysterical?”

  It would have been under other circumstances. “Tell Candy I need to talk to her. I’ll be right there.”

  The Eastside Tavern was only a few miles from my house. I drove the Suburban to the back of the rear parking lot, across from the fragrant dumpster. It was my spot. Regulars smoking out on the front porch greeted me as I climbed the wooden stairs and made my way through the iron–barred door.

  I could hear the music from route 26, and it only grew louder as I approached the bar. Nyalla was right in her assessment — it was a rocking band. Glasses and bottles clinked, patrons whooped, and feet stomped as the fiddle sang out side by side with an electric guitar and the deep vocals of a bare–chested, bearded man.

  And Nils could dance. He was two–stepping with Michelle, her head thrown back in laughter as her long braids spun around. Nyalla sat at the bar with Candy, flashing an indecent amount of leg. I made my way through the crowd to the bar and touched the werewolf’s shoulder.

  She took one look at my face and got to her feet, following me out the back door, where we co
uld speak without having to shout at the top of our lungs.

  “Do you know what happened? Did anyone tell you?” Stupid question. As if she’d be here, partying it up with friends if she knew.

  Candy paled. “What? Harper? The baby?”

  “They’re fine, and so is Jaq, but angels somehow found out about the sanctuary in West Virginia, and there was a raid. The wolves scattered, but many were killed.”

  Claws sprouted from beautifully manicured nails. Candy’s jaw jutted forward, and teeth elongated into fangs. I felt everything twist inside me.

  “It was my fault. Someone must have followed me, or sensed Jaq at my house. It was my fault, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it right.”

  That was the most un–demonic thing I’d ever said — beyond the ‘I love you’ shit with Gregory and Wyatt, that is. Still, it was heartfelt. It was my fault, and I would go to any lengths to ensure the safety of the Nephilim and the werewolves. Every last one of them.

  Candy, that cold, calculating, lying bitch, did something just as out of character as my emotional confession. She grabbed me and hugged me with all the strength of a werewolf. Her claws dug into my back, teeth gnashing along the skin of my neck. In spite of her meticulous hygiene, I’ve got to say that my friend had some tremendously bad breath in her half–wolf form.

  “Not yourrrrr fault,” she growled in my ear. “My trust ith not misplaced in you. We will make this right. Together.”

  I clutched her just as tightly, relishing the claws stabbing through my back. It was my sort of penance. “I will make this right. I promise.”

  She pulled back, and, with a shudder of effort, retracted her claws and returned her jaw to its human appearance. I looked over her shoulder and saw Nils, one arm draped over Nyalla’s shoulder and the other over Michelle’s.