Aurora was in awe of everything around her, including Lilliana and Suzanne. Suzanne was so...normal. She was upbeat, friendly, and had a passion for cooking and fashion magazines. Lilliana, an angel born and raised in Heaven, was smart, thoughtful, and mated to the Grim Reaper himself.
At that particular revelation, Aurora had choked on the tea and cinnamon scones Suzanne had brought her. And, for the record, the scones were incredible. Hawkyn’s sister had even been nice enough to put a couple in a box along with other homemade pastries for Aurora to take to the Hotel Hell room Suzanne had set her up with.
The room was simple and small, more like a college dorm than a hotel room. There was a single bed, a small desk, and a tiny bathroom, but the TV was nice and there was even a computer, on which she’d spent the last half hour while she waited for Hawkyn.
The revelation that Drayger could track her had stuck with her, engaging her curiosity as much as it terrified her. She was a Wytch, and, while she liked to pretend she was basically human, she wasn’t. She had powers and skills she couldn’t deny, and when a supernatural force was used against her, her instinct to fight back roared to the surface. If Drayger was using a spell to find her, surely she could use one to counter it.
She just had to find one.
Fortunately, in a private, secure corner of the Internet, Wytches gathered to share tips, tricks, and instructions for performing various tasks such as protecting one’s self from psychos who could find you after tasting your blood. And according to a user named Wytches_Float, all she needed to do was taste Drayger’s blood while having sex.
Hard pass on that one.
Another user, HocusPocus, claimed that turning a drop of Drayger’s blood into iron would render him unable to use his tracking ability. Naturally, he didn’t include instructions on how to perform such a feat. Not that she had a way of collecting Drayger’s blood. And really, if she could get his blood, why wouldn’t she just kill him?
Probably because Hawkyn was protecting the bastard.
Lilliana and Suzanne had explained the reason, which made sense in a lot of ways, but none of them made her feel any better.
“Most of the people we protect are decent folks,” Suzanne had said. “But unfortunately, evil people sometimes play a role in the advancement of humanity. Change often comes from tragedy or from evil, even if it isn’t obvious at the time.”
“Really?” Aurora had asked, her skepticism flag flying high. “Such as?”
“Wars are responsible for a lot of medical, industrial, and technological advancements,” she’d said.
“And,” Lilliana had added, “sometimes the good that comes from evil doesn’t happen on a large scale. An evil person or an evil act can effect change in laws or individuals, individuals who will then go on to do great things. Or maybe even just make a difference in their own lives and those around them. We don’t have to like evil, but there is a place for it. Trust that there’s a plan. Someday, you’ll see.”
“Have you seen it? This plan?” Aurora asked, and a light had suddenly shone in Lilliana’s eyes, an ethereal glow that had captivated her, surrounded her in a blanket of Heavenly warmth.
“I have. I don’t know the future, but I do know that what seems random is not. Everything, from a rude remark a customer makes to a waiter, to a plane crash happens for a reason.”
Great. But Aurora wasn’t going to hold her breath waiting for the reason for her abduction to become clear. Nor was she going to sit around and let Drayger get hold of her again, no matter how important to humanity’s future her death might be.
A tap on the door startled her, and thinking it was Hawkyn, she opened it eagerly. But instead, there was a pretty red-haired female standing there with a clipboard and a small basket full of toiletries.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Cataclysm, but you can call me Cat. I’m in charge of guest housing and hospitality.” She handed Aurora the basket. “A lot of people who stay here come unprepared, so I put together some items you might need.”
This is so weird.
When Cat nodded, Aurora realized she’d spoken out loud. “Are you new to the supernatural world or Sheoul-gra?”
“Ah, kinda both.”
Cat grinned. “Well, if it helps, people here are pretty cool. There are some douchewads, and some of the statues bite if you get too close, but for the most part, Sheoul-gra doesn’t suck. Who are you here with?”
“Hawkyn,” she said. “But I’m not with him. I mean, he brought me here, but we aren’t together. Not like that...” Ugh. She was babbling like a lunatic. Time to move on, the way she did after she’d massaged all the tension out of one part of a customer’s body. She’d certainly massaged this subject to death. “So, are you one of his sisters?”
“Nah.” Cat tucked her clipboard under one arm. “I’m a fallen angel. I live in the Inner Sanctum with my mate.”
“The Inner Sanctum... That’s where the souls are kept, right? You live there?”
“Well, my mate, Hades, runs the place—”
“Wait.” Aurora held up her hand. “What? Did you say Hades?”
Cat’s grin was pure ate-the-canary satisfied. “Yep. That Hades. He’s the Jailor of Souls, so he pretty much has to live in the jail. It’s not my dream home, but you do what you have to do to be with the one you love, right?”
This place just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Right,” Aurora said, although she really couldn’t see herself living someplace like this for anyone.
Hawkyn’s image flashed in her head, which was insane, given that she’d only known him for a matter of hours. And she was not here with him.
Cat cocked her head and studied Aurora with such intensity that she had to force herself to not squirm. “I’m just curious—and you don’t have to answer—but how do you know Hawkyn? Are you one of his Primori?”
Aurora shook her head. “He’s protecting me from his Primori. And he might be protecting his Primori from me, as well.”
For some reason, Cat’s expression became troubled. “I see. Well, I’d better go—”
“Wait.” Careful to avoid hitting the spot on her palm that might trigger a flow of energy, Aurora grabbed Cat’s forearm as she turned to leave. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing.” Cat smiled reassuringly. “Really.”
Aurora sighed. “Please don’t bullshit me. I’ve had a really rough couple of days.”
There was a moment of tense silence, and then Cat stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I love the people here. I admire the work Memitim do, because I know I couldn’t do it. They’re dedicated, passionate, and tough as nails.” She hesitated, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, and Aurora struggled to contain her impatience. Finally, Cat blurted, “But they can also be ruthless in their missions to protect their Primori. They’ll do whatever it takes, even if their Primori is a genocidal maniac.”
Aurora knew that. But for the first time, she was truly becoming aware of what that meant. “You’re saying that if Hawkyn’s Primori needs to kill me to fulfill his destiny or whatever—”
“Hawkyn will deliver you to him like a pizza.”
* * * *
“Hey, brother.” Emerico stopped near where Hawkyn was sitting on a park bench with Atticus’s notes about Drayger. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do about your serial killer predicament?”
Nope. And it was driving him nuts. He always had all the answers, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was at a loss.
“The only thing I can do right now is keep Aurora safe,” he said, peering down at the notes that had begun to blur with uselessness.
“You know you can’t keep her here, right?”
Hawk’s gaze cut sharply to his brother. “As long as the Council and embassy don’t know she’s here, who cares?”
“Our father cares.”
Alarm clanged inside him. “He knows?”
Hawkyn had figured Azagoth would find out sooner rather than later, given that Lilliana had met Aurora, but geez, it had only been a couple of hours. And Hawkyn didn’t think he’d give a shit anyway. Azagoth didn’t exactly follow the rules.
“I just spoke with him,” Rico said. “I guess he saw Suzanne escorting her to Hotel Hell.”
“Yeah, well, Memitim business isn’t his business. What’s it matter to him if I have her here?”
Rico shrugged. “I think he’s trying to toe the Heavenly line.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, for the first time ever. He wants something from them. Whatever it is, he wants it bad if he’s playing their games.”
Shit. This was unexpected. “Guess I’d better see him and get this cleared.”
Another roll of Rico’s dark eyes. “He’ll probably let it slide. He lets his favorites get away with murder.”
Hawkyn gaped. “You think I’m one of his favorites?”
“Lilliana likes you, so he likes you.”
Ah, yes. Hawk had forgotten that there was no love lost between Lilliana and Rico. Hawkyn had no idea what Lilliana’s side of the story was, but Rico had despised her since the day he claimed she’d slapped him for giving her a compliment. Hawkyn had known Rico for several decades longer than he’d known Lilliana...which was why he was almost certain Rico had deserved anything Lilliana did to him. He loved his brother, but the guy refused to take responsibility for his actions and always claimed he was the victim in any situation.
“Do you think he should let it slide?” Hawkyn asked, and Rico shrugged.
“I think her being here can only hurt you.” Rico signaled to one of their sisters, who was tapping her foot impatiently at the tennis court. “Eva and I are practicing for the tennis tourney next week. You gonna root for us?”
“Sure,” Hawkyn said absently. “See you later.”
Rico took off and Hawkyn went straight to Azagoth’s office. Zhubaal, his fallen angel assistant, granted him immediate entry. Inside, his father was observing a parade of demon souls escorted by his griminions as they guided the demons to their final destination in the Inner Sanctum. With the exception of one unfortunate accident, not a single soul got into the Sanctum without Azagoth’s approval, and while most spent no more than a few seconds with the Grim Reaper, every once in a while he pulled one aside, and no one wanted to be that guy.
“Hawkyn.” Azagoth didn’t even turn to look at him. “Are you here to tackle me again?”
“Twice in twenty-four hours would be considered rude,” Hawkyn said, mirroring the amused tone in his father’s voice. It was always smart to start off any conversation with Azagoth on a positive note.
Azagoth grunted, which Hawk was going to take as a laugh. “Then what can I do for you?”
“I just talked to Emerico. He says you agree with him that Aurora should leave.”
With a wave of his hand, Azagoth froze the soul parade in their tracks and turned to Hawkyn. “That’s a slight mischaracterization of what I said.”
Hope zinged through him. “Then she can stay?”
“No. I said I think you should be able to have her here.” The fireplace on the far wall flared to life, sparked by nothing more than Azagoth’s thoughts. “But there are rules. She has to go.”
Son of a bitch. Hawk’s heart sank to his feet. So much for hope. Aurora deserved better than this, and he was going to keep fighting for her. And this wasn’t even about the guilt he harbored for putting the wheels of her situation into motion. This was about the fact that he liked her.
Primori or not, she was special.
“That’s not right and you know it,” he said fiercely. “There’s a serial killer after her. She’s not Primori, so rules shouldn’t apply to her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Azagoth propped his hip on his desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “The Memitim Council only allows me to keep Sheoul-gra open to Memitim as long as they don’t use it to thwart the Council’s rules or to interfere with Primori fates.”
“I’m not using Sheoul-gra for either of those things,” he argued. “I have confirmation that Drayger’s fate hasn’t been changed by anything I’ve done with Aurora. Besides, this is your realm. Your rules. You can get the Memitim Council to change their minds. Make them.”
“I can’t, son,” Azagoth said, and Hawkyn nearly fell over. Azagoth had never directly addressed him that way, and Hawkyn wasn’t sure what to say. Fortunately, Azagoth continued speaking, sparing him a response. “There are only so many things I can negotiate for. I only have so many cards to play, and I can’t waste them on a single human female.”
“But—”
“No. You have a duty. A duty to your Primori. Not to a random human.”
“She’s neither random nor human,” he gritted out. “And I don’t need to be lectured about duty.”
Azagoth’s curse accompanied a sudden shove to his feet and a tangible tension in the air.
“You have feelings for this female. That’s stupid, Hawk. You’re letting your emotions affect the job. And your actions. It’s a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Hawkyn snorted. “I can’t believe you just said that. You, who changed your entire realm for a female who seems to be avoiding you more often than not.”
“My relationship with my mate is none of your concern.”
A niggle of warning told Hawkyn he should shut up. Right now. But dammit, he liked Lilliana, his father had been a ginormous asshat recently, and his temper was already on the verge of eruption.
Azagoth’s blood did flow in his veins, after all.
“It’s a concern of mine when Lilliana’s been more of a parent to me than you’ve ever been,” he said. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Hissing, Azagoth rounded on him, and Hawk wondered what had pissed him off more; that Lilliana had been a better parent or that Hawkyn was accusing Azagoth of hurting her.
“I’ve provided you food, shelter, training—”
“Congratulations on doing the bare minimum, Dad. You going to take a bow for the six seconds it took you to ensure conception?” If the crimson rage in Azagoth’s cheeks was any indication, this was a sore subject too, but Hawk was too worked up to hit the brakes. “At least my mother carried me inside her body before she dumped me in the human realm to fend for myself.”
Azagoth went as still as an ice sculpture. “If you’re so unhappy with your circumstances, why are you here?”
Good question. Until just a couple of years ago he’d resided with other Memitim in a Belgian castle, one of several “group homes” where Memitim lived and trained if they didn’t want to live by themselves or serve Azagoth—pre-Lilliana, when he was still evil off-the-charts. But post-Lilliana, when their father opened up his realm to them, many, if not most, had come looking for something that had eluded the majority of them since birth—belonging to a family. A real parent. Brothers and sisters. And even though Azagoth could be a huge asshole, life in Sheoul-gra was still better than anything else Hawk had experienced.
“I’m not unhappy,” he said. “Not here.”
“But you are unhappy.”
Hawkyn had never really thought about it like that. He’d been fucking great at his job, duty-bound to the point of ignoring even simple pleasures. But yeah, now that Azagoth mentioned it, he’d been increasingly dissatisfied with a lot of shit.
“I despise the bullshit Memitim rules. No alcohol besides wine. No sex. No self-gratification. Limited interaction with humans, demons, or angels who aren’t Memitim. The fact that we’re considered lesser angels, second-class citizens. I want to Ascend so I can become a Council member and change things. Did you know that some of the Council members are angels? Regular angels who were never Memitim? What kind of shit is that? How can they make the rules for people they don’t respect or understand?”
Azagoth gave him a “duh” look because of course he knew angels sat on the Memitim Council. Hawk’s mother was one of them.
“I understand your frustration,” Azagoth said as he moved to the fully stocked bar, probably to rub Hawkyn’s nose in the fact that he wasn’t supposed to drink the fine rum he was reaching for. “Heaven has been making the rules for Sheoul-gra for thousands of years.”
“And you bend and break them all the time.”
“I know which ones can be altered.” The rum made a soft gurgling sound as Azagoth poured it into a highball glass. “I know which are worth paying the price for.”
“And you don’t think allowing Aurora to stay here is worth the price.”
“Nope.” He took a swig of his drink. “Take my advice, son. Life is way too long to spend it with regrets. Send the female away and don’t look back.”
“Like you did with us? With our mothers?” It was a cheap shot, a throwaway line borne of hundreds of years of frustration. And maybe some abandonment issues.
“You know nothing,” Azagoth growled. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Actually, I think you owe me and my siblings a lot.”
Azagoth’s eyes began to glow with an unholy blood-red light, and Hawkyn knew he’d poked the beast one too many times. “Get. Out.”
“Out of your office?” he snapped. “Or out of Sheoul-gra?”
“Your choice.” There was no hesitation. No wavering of resolve in Azagoth’s gaze or his voice. “But either way, get out of my sight, and take the female with you.”
Hurt sliced through him. His father didn’t give a flying fuck if he left. Well, maybe Hawk should take his advice. The one useful thing Azagoth had given him.
“No regrets, right?” He wheeled around and impulsively snatched the bottle of rum off Azagoth’s bar top before opening the office door. “Don’t look back.”
He didn’t.
But damn, it hurt.