“We’ve made contact with a muse and a Fallen,” Bruce said.
“Samandiriel?”
“My men did not get the Fallen’s name, but I would assume so since that is who you recently summoned. They encountered them both on the way to set up the warehouse in Berlin.”
“A Fallen together with a muse? Was he attempting her?”
Bruce winced. Such a heartless euphemism for the vicious act of rape. His man, who had witnessed it all as a lookout on a nearby rooftop, reported to him, but hadn’t interfered because he hadn’t wanted to become ash. Or to lose his heart, which, apparently, one of them had.
“The angel was defending her against my men.”
“That’s to be expected. She is the one woman on this earth who can give him pleasure. Where are they now? In custody?”
“My man is on it.”
Which meant, they’d let them get away and now Bruce was scrambling to pick up their trail.
“The pregnant muse is Ophelia O’Malley,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “She has only been pregnant three months, but my spies say she’s waddling about like a full-term mother.”
“The nephilim’s gestation is rumored to be very short,” Antonio clarified. “As is its growth period. It’s likely the muse will give birth soon. Have you taken her into custody?”
“Working on it. Have my best team in London, where she was last seen. The muse’s sister is escorting her. And that officious Zane. Traitor.” Bruce intended to stake that bastard soon.
“He never did fit in,” Antonio muttered. “You know this is my greatest and only desire, Bruce? To walk in the light.”
“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that.”
Antonio steepled his fingers thoughtfully before him. “I remember my mother used to tell me about the daylight. We lived below even before puberty gave me the blood hunger, so I have never, ever, known what it was like to feel sun on my skin.”
That had to suck, big-time, Bruce thought. Even bloodborn vampires, like Antonio, didn’t come into their vampirism until puberty, which meant they were basically mortal, and could eat and walk in the sun, until the blood hunger changed them completely.
“So many vampires can walk in the sun,” Antonio continued. “Why should I be denied light simply because my bloodline is ancient and revered? Am I damned? Are we not all damned?”
He held up a silver chain, from which dangled a silver coil. It caught the torchlight and flashed brightly. Antonio closed his eyes, as if soaking in sunbeams.
Bruce silently backed from his master’s office. At times like this, when he went all introspective and waxed on about his damnation, it was better to leave him to sulk.
But his determination was renewed. No man should be denied the simple pleasures of life. Even if the sun would probably burn him after a few seconds, Antonio did deserve the pain of it, just once.
Cassandra stepped down the stairs outside her loft in the building stairwell. Metallic flake demon ash sifted over her hands and cheeks as she did. It tingled and felt hot, as if real ash from a flaming fire.
“It’s too pretty for demon remains.”
Sam swiped the back of his hand across his chin. A blue line dashed where a cut had opened his skin. “If you know things about us, then you know the Sinistari were forged from the Fallen.”
“I do. So he was originally an angel who Fell with you?”
“Yes, but he was taken before his feet touched earth and was forged into Sinistari.”
“That’s so sad, that something divine was made—” She stopped before saying evil. Because the truly evil ones were the Fallen. The Sinistari were the good guys.
But how to label Sam? An evil angel bent on destroying his own? That sounded accurate, but when she caught more demon ash on her palm, she couldn’t decide if evil had just vanquished the real good.
And only moments earlier she had stood in his arms because she’d wanted to. She had needed to feel safe. In the arms of her destroyer.
The night could not get any stranger.
It must be close to morning. She should be standing in the shower right now, washing away the day’s simple trials, like stressing over which silver piece to next work on and about leaving her date at the bar. She should not be thinking about running from angels, demons and vampires.
Marcus would be pissed she’d left the Schwarz without him. Or maybe not. He had been talking up the redhead.
“I’m tired.” She sat on the bottom step and toed the metallic demon ash. It glowed bright red and dispersed to talcum fineness, resembling a big pile of dust rather than ash. “Can we put off the vampire hunt until I’ve gotten some sleep?”
“We’ll have to. The Anakim tribe doesn’t walk in sunlight.”
“Just let me stay here and sleep a few hours. You return after you’ve killed all the vampires, Fallen and Sinistari.” She yawned. “Promise I won’t ditch you.”
“I will give you energy.”
“I don’t know how you can do—”
Sam pulled her to stand and clutched her against his chest. He was so solid and there, and yet, not warm. Not cold, either. Almost as if he were a sculpture crafted from silver. Weird but strangely appropriate.
Strong arms slid up her back and firmly caressed her against him. For the muscles strapping his body, she had expected any hug from him to hurt, but he held her as if she were fragile, delicate.
He was doing something to her. She felt him radiate through her body. Not exactly heat or a tingle, but a feeling of satisfaction. No, not exactly that, either. She felt positive, and suddenly perceived an outcome that would see her the victor. Was it hope? If the halo was supposed to give a mortal hope, as her sister believed, then perhaps an entire angel could do the same.
For the first time since this night had gone crazy, Cassandra thought about the sigil and realized it didn’t itch. Why was that? Did their closeness negate the irritant power of the sigil?
Sam had come after her with mad lust in his eyes after he’d killed the demon. His silver wings … they had been gorgeous. Something she could never duplicate though she had tried. The sculpture in her bedroom was a pitiful replica of the real deal.
Gorgeous, and yet a sign of very real danger she couldn’t defend herself against no matter what tricks she pulled out of her pocket.
“How’s that?” he said against her ear.
“Huh? Oh, great.” She pulled from him, following the skim of her fingers as they marked his smooth, tanned chest. “Ready for action, I guess. But do you intend to stalk about the city without any clothes? I mean, the no-shirt look works on you, but it’s snowing out, buddy. We don’t want to attract any more attention than you already do.”
“I will need a shirt, yes. But you are not so tired now?”
Cassandra assessed her muscles and bruised body, and realized she did feel kinda peppy. A flex of her shoulder didn’t sense the heavy exhaustion she’d just experienced. “What did you do to me?”
“We have a connection, Cassandra, like it or not.”
“Raising my hand for not. It’s a connection I don’t wish to complete, if you get my meaning.”
“I understand there are reasons you cannot trust me.”
“You got that right. You said you wouldn’t come after me, but then your wings popped out and—wham! I’ve never seen such malevolent lust in a man’s eyes before. You really scared me, Sam.”
