Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6) Read online

  “And if he removes it?” Gregory asked. He was a few shades paler than normal as he eyed the device.

  I swung a little brass key around my pinky. “Humans need this key to remove it. Since Nils could easily break it, I’ll have to trust him to leave it on.”

  Nils’s eyes glowed with a very un–angelic glint before he lowered his head. “Yes, Mistress.”

  ‘Yes, Mistress’ my ass. “Since I don’t trust him one little bit, I activated the transmitter here.” I touched the blinking light. “I’ll be alerted if you remove the device. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

  “How will you be alerted, Cockroach?” Gregory came closer to the Fallen, eyeing the light skeptically.

  “There’s an app for that.” A total lie, but it’s not like Nils or anyone else would know.

  “What happens if he takes it off?” Harper asked, fingering a knife with a rather disturbing light in her eyes.

  “I’ll let Nyalla decide that one.” I waved a finger at Nils. “Now, pull up your pant and go down to the basement for the evening. Do not pass go, do not collect two–hundred dollars.”

  We watched him stomp away, sullenly slamming the basement door on his way down. I tossed the little brass key to Nyalla.

  “You’re in charge of the key. I’m going to be kind of busy the next few days, so if there’s an emergency and you need to let him out, go ahead.”

  She sniffed but gave the key a long look before shoving it in her pocket. “It could rot and fall off and I wouldn’t care. There won’t be an emergency serious enough to ever let him out of that thing.”

  Harper put her arm around the girl, and the two headed upstairs, loudly discussing the perfidy of angels.

  “You know she’ll have him out of it by nightfall,” Gregory commented.

  “Yep.” Nyalla might be pissed, but she was also a young horny girl and Nils was gorgeous. “Honestly, her method of torture will probably do more to straighten out my Fallen than the cock cage.”

  “You’re evil. I like that.” Gregory chuckled and pulled me into his arms. I wrapped myself around him, rubbing my face against his shirt and relaxing against him. “You’re an excellent Iblis — amazingly creative and intuitive when it comes to punishment. I have a premonition you’ll be surprisingly effective at raising vibration levels among us all.”

  I shuddered. “I’d rather be lowering vibration levels. You angels need some serious attitude adjustments, especially that brother of yours.”

  “Rafi?” Gregory’s chest shook with laughter. “He was nearly designated an Angel of Chaos. He’s about as borderline as they get.”

  I pulled back and punched his chest, smiling at our light teasing. “No, idiot. I mean that asshole Gabe. Rafi is cool in my books. That other brother needs a hot branding iron up his ass, and pronto. If he doesn’t get laid soon, he’s going to explode.”

  My angel ran a hand down my hair, his black eyes reflecting the lamplight. “He’s not as bad as you think, Cockroach. Underneath all that pious rigidity is a loyal and generous spirit.”

  “Humph.” I couldn’t help myself from expressing disbelief. True, Gabe had sheltered the Nephilim and werewolves from discovery. He’d even kept tabs on Jaq for her father, but he was still an asshole.

  Nephilim. The thought sent me crashing back to reality and the daunting task ahead. “Am I really going to be able to pull this off? You’re the semi–omnipotent one in this partnership. What do you see, oh mighty angel?”

  He looked down at me, and I swear I could see right through those midnight–black eyes into the depths of his spirit–self.

  “I see one hot mess of a Cockroach who somehow always manages to come out on top.”

  –30–

  I stood in Gareth’s shop, holding a vicious, struggling durft and trying to get five Low demons to not destroy a king’s ransom worth of spell components.

  After drinking coffee and having some amazing angel sex with Gregory, I’d returned to torment Dalmai further, making him dress in a black lace thong while answering the door for the pizza–delivery guys. He’d been trying to gnaw his way through the can of peas. I felt sorry for him so I left him the pizza. My sympathy didn’t extend to ridding him of the lice that I’d dumped all over his long blond hair. For good measure, I’d emptied a jar–full down his pants too. Wyatt would kill me to find his house infested when he returned, but some things were worth the scolding.

  “Hurry up!” I shouted to the two magic users. Fred had latched his sharp teeth onto my forearm and was happily shredding it into strips as I tried to pry him off. I hated durfts. Nasty things. And I had a deadline to meet.

  Gregory and I had agreed on when I was to appear in Harpers Ferry with my ‘legion’ of demons. If all went as planned, this whole thing should be a formality. We show up. He and a group of angels, including Gabe, show up. Pre–planned rhetoric would be exchanged. Then I’d assume responsibility for Nephilim and the werewolves — all within the fifteen minutes I had before my Low demons were forcibly retracted to Hel. Gregory was well aware of our deadline and knew we had to talk fast or the fat would be in the fire. Everything should go smoothly — and that scared the shit out of me, because nothing was doomed to failure like a plan that couldn’t fail.

  Gareth flew out of the back room in a flurry of robes, sweat beaded on his bald pate. He shot a look of consternation at the demons sniffing and tasting contents of various jars and shoved a handful of metal rods at me.

  I only had two hands and they were busy with the furry thing trying to gnaw my limb off. I tried to swap Gareth the durft for the rods, but he backed away.

  “Uh, I’ll just pass these out to your demons while you subdue Fred.”

  I really wanted to kill Fred, but I wasn’t sure I could use his dead body as a focus. It would suck if my whole plan collapsed because I couldn’t put up with a nasty mammal for another hour or so. The sorcerer passed out the rods, and my demons stood awkwardly in his shop, holding the six–inch metal dowels in their hands, claws, or tentacles. I squinted at them, reading each one’s energy signature in turn.

  “They’re still Low,” I complained. “Is there an incantation or something needed to activate the rods?”

  “Yes, but they need to be in place before I activate them.” Gareth busied himself with something behind the counter, not meeting my eyes. Clearly he wasn’t relishing this part of the spell.

  “So the demons need to be transported before you can activate the rods? How will you know when to do it? And will it work? I’ve never known an incantation that stretches across into another realm.”

  Gareth disappeared behind the counter. I heard him moving something around on the bottom shelves. “No, the rod needs to be in place. In order for the energy masking to be successful, the rod must be internal.”

  “Internal to what?” Hack asked, sniffing the rod.

  “We swallow it?” Pustule extended a long tongue and licked the shiny metal surface.

  The sorcerer popped up from behind the counter, red faced as his eyes met mine. “No, it needs to go in your anus in order to have maximum effectiveness.”

  Five demons squealed in delight, and a flurry of activity broke out in the store. They were all over the place, shoving the rods in the designated orifice. Some attempted to place them horizontally. Others offered helpful opinions on the necessary depth. There were comments as to the inadequate length and girth of the rods. Snip in particular requested his angle upward at the end next time. I shook my head, amused at their antics and interested in how some of the more creative demons planned on removing the rods afterward.

  “I’ve got one for you, too,” Gareth told me. “I know you’re the Iblis and all that, but you’re still an Imp. This would raise your energy level by three.”

  I shifted Fred to the other undamaged arm and eyed the extended rod. The idea of shoving it up my ass was pretty appealing. I hadn’t stuck random objects in my behind for months. Fun would need to take a back seat to duty
, though.

  “That would be pretty cool, but these angels all know my signature. If I were to show up three levels higher, they’d suspect something with the entire lot of us.”

  “Okay.” Gareth put the rod back in a drawer as Kirby came in the front door.

  “Ready? I’ve got the modification for Fred.”

  I held the durft out to him and scowled as the animal calmed down. Fucker even made a happy little chirping noise as Kirby stroked it. He looped a gold chain around Fred’s neck and it vanished beneath his thick fur.

  “Here. All done.”

  I eyed the durft. “Can you hold him until we’re ready to go?” No sense in getting any more chewed up than I had to.

  I turned to Gareth, and he unrolled a scroll.

  “Ready?” He eyed the demons. They nodded eagerly.

  Folea–towa.

  The scroll crumbled to dust, and I was instantly glad I hadn’t taken the Sorcerer up on his offer. Screams rent the air as all five demons dropped to the ground and writhed about in fetal positions.

  “Get it out, get it out!”

  “Burns. Ooh, it burns!”

  One or two tried in vain to remove the rods. The painful effect was brief; it faded at the same time the energy signatures from the demons changed. It was like watching a flower bloom. Their physical appearance remained the same, but they seemed more fierce, powerful — less like a bunch of Lows. In fewer than ten minutes, all five had transformed and were on their feet.

  “Oh that rocked.” Radl chuckled. “Can we do that again? Can I have some of those rods and the scroll to take home? Imagine how fun that would be at a party.”

  Demons. I’d missed these guys. Humans weren’t as likely to enjoy shoving stuff up their ass, then experiencing an unexpected burst of excruciating pain. When all this was over, I really needed to spend a few days with my household, partying it up and re–connecting with my demon roots.

  “Ready?” Kirby stroked Fred, who was licking his fingers with a pink forked tongue.

  I checked my watch. Shit! We needed to get a move on. I hadn’t realized how late it was. I usually didn’t bother with keeping track of time while I was in Hel, and hadn’t worn a watch since 1993, but with only fifteen minutes until my demon ‘legion’ disappeared, timing was crucial.

  “Let’s go.” I took the durft from Kirby, and it immediately lunged for my throat.

  My Lows clustered around me, each reaching to touch some part of my body. I felt a moment of panic at their energy so close to mine. They seemed powerful and threatening — so very much like Ahriman had felt when he was near. But they weren’t. These demons were members of my household, Lows that I could take down if I needed to, demons that had pledged their lives to serve me. In spite of what my instincts screamed at me, I knew they would never disrespect my role and touch me in that way — the way Ahriman had. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the panic away, telling myself that the powerful level I sensed from them wasn’t true.

  Kirby spoke the words to enhance the spell, and I recited the incantation, juggling the scroll in one hand and Fred in the other. I had a few more charges left on the scroll, so we all arrived at the edge of a brick building with me holding an angry durft and a crumpled piece of parchment. That’s when I realized my error. I’d been so focused on getting the demons here that I’d neglected to bring a cage for Fred. I could hardly face the elite of Aaru holding a ball of fury, so I did the only thing I could do. I let him go. Fred vanished with an indignant squeak, and I concentrated on healing my hands. According to my watch, we had two minutes.

  I’d placed the location marker in Harpers Ferry, right where the Potomac and Shenandoah River joined in a rush of rock–strewn white water. The demons pulled away from me and surveyed their surroundings with gasps of wonderment. I’d forgotten that so many of them had never been here, not been high enough in level to activate the gates, let alone escape the guardians. For once, I was glad we were a bit early, arriving before both the werewolves and the angels. It wouldn’t do for them to see my ‘high–level demon legion’ racing around like children at a carnival.

  Plus, their antics and their non–human appearance were beginning to attract some attention from the few people milling about on a Thursday afternoon. Cars slowed. Shopkeepers gawked. I overhead one camera–loaded, brochure–carrying man whisper “horror film” to his companion. Whatever. If there were any issues, Gregory and the angels would do some memory cleansing once they arrived.

  “Get in your fucking spots and look menacing right now, or I’ll toss every last one of you off the railroad bridge into the river.”

  It probably wasn’t the best threat. The Lows did gather together, but instead of menacing, I got fascination. Their heads spun as they ogled the bridges over the river. Steps spiraled up to a walkway paralleling the railroad bridge that spanned the Potomac. The trains would vanish into a tunnel on the Maryland side, while the walkway ended in another set of steps to the CCanal towpath. A perfect tourist spot, made historic by the old armory building that John Brown and his supporters had seized in 1859.

  That hadn’t gone well. John Brown and eighteen crazy–ass abolitionists had taken the federal complex along the river thinking the slaves would all overthrow their chains and run en mass to freedom. No uprising occurred, and Brown was hanged as a traitor. I hoped my little plot would have a happier ending.

  I had to pull out the shotgun and threaten them, but finally my demons were all in place. I glanced at the watch. Two minutes. Wait — hadn’t it been two minutes at least two minutes ago? I pulled it off and smacked it against the brick of the building. Fucking thing. This was why everyone used cell phones to tell time nowadays. When had it stopped? I was just about to charge into a nearby store and demand the time, when the air shimmered and twenty angels appeared. I had no idea where the werewolves were, but at least the most important parties had made it to our little fake showdown. But instead of feeling relief, I tensed.

  Where was Gregory?

  The thought barely registered before the angels unloaded on us. The five ‘mighty’ demons behind me squealed like little girls and ran about, tentacles and claws flailing. I hit the ground and rolled in a very un–Iblis–like manner, hoping that the angels would refrain from destroying the human establishment I was now cowering behind. Humans lined the street and made ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ noises as dirt and asphalt rained around us. Snip dove into the river, while Rot scrambled up the support to the railroad bridge and raced for the tunnel. Pustule and Radl stuck to me like glue. I felt their breath on my neck as we crouched at the corner of the old armory.

  “You said this was just some posturing. Why the fuck are they shooting at us? I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

  I punched Radl in the snout. Not that any of this was his fault, but I had to punch something, and he was handy. I’d no idea why the angels were shooting at us. I couldn’t sense Gregory or Gabriel. I was worried about my Lows — demons who had relied on me to keep them safe. A two–foot section exploded from the corner of the building, covering us with red dust and stinging our skin with chunks of brick and mortar. I pushed Radl and Pustule away from the blast and covered my head — trying desperately to see if I could recognize any of the angels’ energy signatures. Nope. I didn’t know any of them.

  Except one. Another blast knocked me backward onto my ass. A brick conked me in the ear just as I found one bit of energy I knew. What the fuck was his name? New Guy.

  Chabriel. Suddenly it all came together. His had been the choir Dalmai had been petitioning to join — probably the angel he’d been passing information to about Harper and the sanctuary. But how had he managed to get a group and show up separate from the non–violent meeting I’d orchestrated with Gregory and Gabriel?

  I didn’t have the luxury of time to contemplate it further. Half the building exploded, and the two demons and I scurried inside the wreckage to shelter.

  “Hide,” I hissed. “You’ll be teleported back to Hel in
… .”

  Damned motherfucking, cock–sucking son–of–a–bitch watch! I threw it onto the floor, stomping until it broke into little bits under my foot. I had no idea how long we had until my demons went back. Could they last that long? Were the others okay?

  I heard a high–pitched scream, then the humans clapping and cheering. Snip? Hack? Or Rot? I needed to distract these angels and buy my Low more time.

  “Stay here,” I instructed Radl and Pustule.

  I gripped my shotgun tight and ran through the gaping hole in the building. Heading away from the railroad bridge, I cut between a coffee shop and parking area. The angels had their backs to me, concentrating on the bridge where I saw Rot hanging from one of the supports by one claw. His other claw was missing. Fury poured through me and I raised the shotgun to my shoulder.

  “Die, you goat–fucking, shit–eating bastards!”

  They did turn to face me, but not before I’d killed five of them and had one flopping on the ground in agony. Unfortunately, that left fourteen who were now completely dedicated to killing me. I wouldn’t be as easy to take down as my Lows. Cockroaches are hard to kill, and I had my trusty shotgun at the ready.

  I kept shooting as fast as I could. The blasts of white from the angels burned through my flesh and bone. Time seemed to slow as I dropped to my knees. Time — had I bought the Lows enough time to get away until they went back to Hel? It seemed like only seconds had passed since I rounded that building. Another blast took off my leg, and I raised the shotgun as a shield, trying to block as many of their shots as possible. If I could just keep their attention a little while longer… .

  Something large and black flew through the air in front of me, knocking angels down like bowling pins. I recreated my form with a snap and blinked in surprise to see a shiny, black cannon muzzle rolling to a stop against a tree. The angels appeared just as shocked as I was. They were staggering to their feet when an airborne 1993 Nissan Maxima plowed into half a dozen of them. I looked across the street into a grassy park and saw Hack. The little Low might not be powerful in demon skills, but he could bench press a small building. A large bolder followed the sedan then Hack wrapped his arms around a nearby oak and yanked. The angels still standing turned to Hack and shot, exploding the tree and sending the Low backward in a spray of wood chips and blood.