Something out there, in the lengthening evening shadows, was watching him. And seeing how whatever it was made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and the tattoo on his back sting like some sort of futuristic subdermal warning system, it was probably too much to hope that it was a gorgeous woman who wanted nothing more than a one-night stand.
Declan Burke pushed away from the fifteen-story building that housed his employer’s Dallas offices of McKay-Taggart, tossed his coffee cup in the trash, and casually brushed his hand across his holster to loosen his Glock G29 as he moved toward the alley in a loose, easy gait. If someone was spying on him, he wasn’t going to let on that he knew it. He was just heading to where he’d parked his Rover on the street this afternoon when he’d come in to grab a few things before he took off on his assignment in South America—
“Hey, Burke!”
Shit. Silent-watcher-slash-one-night-stand forgotten, he inhaled deeply before swinging around to see the big boss, Ian Taggart, sauntering toward him like a man on a mission to sell him something. And Dec knew exactly what that something was. Tag had called last night as Declan was packing his suitcase and asked if he’d rather take another job. His answer had been a hard no. Tag had been persuasive. Dec’s answer had then been a fuck no. And finally, a hang-up.
“I already said I’m not taking that job,” Declan sighed.
“And you didn’t say why.”
“Am I required to?”
“You know you’re not.” Tag stopped in front of him, his blond hair ruffling in the stiflingly hot breeze. “But this is right up your alley. You grew up in D.C. You know the people. You know the politics. You know the money.”
Yeah, Declan knew all of that way too intimately. “I said no.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were the best person for the job.”
Swearing silently, Declan looked up at the evening sky until he could reliably talk to his boss without losing his temper.
Finally, he looked back at his boss. “I left that cesspool when I was seventeen, and I haven’t looked back. I’m sorry, Ian. I respect the hell out of you, and if you need me for anything else, I’ll do it, no questions asked. But not this. Fire me if you need to.”
Tag let out an exasperated curse. “You’d seriously rather take the mission in the jungle that’ll probably get you killed than work with Senator McRory and his aide on some routine security issues?”
Okay, Tag was exaggerating the risk of the South American job, but even if he weren’t... “I can’t even count all the ways I could say yes to that.”
“Fine,” Tag said, “but at least think about it. Your plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, sure,” Declan offered, knowing he wasn’t going to think about it at all. Not for a single second. As far as he was concerned, the topic of the D.C. job was a dead thread.
“Thanks, man.” Taggart clapped Declan on the shoulder and headed toward the parking lot.
Declan hung out for another minute, trying to decide what to do now. Going home to an empty, depressing apartment didn’t appeal to him, but neither did hitting a noisy club, not when he’d been getting so many headaches in recent months. Besides, he wasn’t the most social person on the planet and he hated the bar scene. He only put up with it because lately he’d been restless when he was alone.
Maybe he needed a girlfriend. Or at the very least, he needed to get laid. Of course, meeting someone meant being social. Making small talk. Telling people about his life. What a nightmare.
He was going to die alone, wasn’t he?
“Everyone dies alone,” his coworker Shane Landon had told him once. “Some sooner than later.”
Shane was a real cheery guy sometimes.
Taking a mental coin toss, he settled on grabbing a six-pack of Shiner Bock, heading to his place, and watching a few episodes of season three of Breaking Bad. How had he missed the show when it first came out? It was awesome. But hey, now he got to binge watch—
A flash of light blinded him, the intensity making him stumble. Blinking, shielding his eyes, he peered in the direction of the alley he’d been walking toward before Tag stopped him. Bright white light flickered like a florescent bulb between the buildings, and he swore he saw a hulking shadow at the center, something with thick arms and legs...and a massive head with horns.
What the fuck? Suddenly, searing pain ripped through his skull and the tattoo on his back. He heard a scream, his scream, before he fell to his knees, grasping his head in his hands as if that would stop the agony. Through the assault on his senses, he tasted and smelled blood, and as he gasped for air, he swore he saw another shadowy figure join the first, this one smaller, more petite. Even...feminine. And they were fighting.
Even as he moaned in agony, he laughed internally at the absurdity of his thoughts. Shadowy figures battling in the center of a ball of light? Had someone spiked his coffee? Was he really asleep and having a nightmare straight from a comic book?
A lightning strike of pain streaked through him from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. The world tilted and spun, and he didn’t even have the strength to scream again as darkness shrouded his vision and he slid, unconscious, to the ground.
* * * *
Suzanne had never encountered a demon like the one that had just committed some sort of psychic assault on the human she was assigned to protect. And as a Memitim, an earthbound angel charged with protecting people who were important to the fate of humanity, she’d seen a lot of demons. Well, mostly in books, but she’d read a lot of books.
The creature was huge, at least twelve feet tall, with horns that extended over three feet from his skull and were as thick as her thigh at the base. But it wasn’t his size or his toxic ugliness that was so unique. It was the fact that he was able to affect Declan’s body from a distance, without triggering her Primori alarm, that made the demon not only unique, but dangerous as hell.
Spinning, she used a pair of scythes and roundhouse kicks to launch an aggressive attack on the demon. It fell back, but its massive sword forced her to leap backward often, losing momentum with each retreat. Its hooved feet caught her in the ribs a half dozen times, cracking bone and splitting her skin until her blood splashed on her boots. As an angel she healed quickly, but she still felt pain, and she was in agony.
The thing peeled its black, scaly lips back from its shark-like teeth before morphing into human form, becoming an attractive male with short jet-black hair and a goatee, and eyes the color of blue frost.
“Who are you?” he growled in a deep, hell-smoke voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
“No one important,” she said, all cheery and perky to hide the fact that this guy was terrifying and her cracked ribs were making it hard to catch her breath. “Who the hell are you?”
He sneered. “Someone who doesn’t have time to play with little girls. You can call me Morroc, but get in my way again, and I’ll play until you and every one of your kin are nothing but broken flesh dolls.”
With that, he disappeared into thin air.
“Thank God,” she whispered to herself. Her knees nearly buckled with relief. That was the first demon she’d battled to protect her Primori, and it was one of the most terrifying demons she’d ever seen. She needed to research the sucker, and fast.
With a flick of her wrist, she made her summoned scythes disappear. Several yards away, Declan was lying on the sidewalk and two men were rushing toward him. She wanted to be at his side to reassure herself that he was okay, but the Primori mark, the quarter-sized heraldi on her wrist, wasn’t burning, which meant he wasn’t in danger of dying, so his human friends should be able to help him.
She hoped. The heraldi had failed to warn her that Declan was in danger in the first place. If she hadn’t popped in to randomly check on him, he’d be dead now.
Declan sat up, waving off help and cursing. Thankful that he seemed to be no worse for wear, she flashed out of there and returned to Sheoul-gra, a prison realm for the souls of demons and evil humans, but also the residence of her father, the Grim Reaper, and hundreds of her brothers and sisters. Dozens of Unfallen angels lived here too, serving at the Grim Reaper’s pleasure in return for a safe place to live and work. As Unfallen, they no longer had wings, powers, or access to Heaven, but they weren’t fully fallen, either. Their status left them in a state of limbo and danger, powerless against demons and other fallen angels who made a game out of dragging Unfallen into what demons called Sheoul, AKA Hell to normal people. As her brother Hawkyn’s buddy Cipher liked to say, “Gain cool new powers…but lose your soul.”
And any shot of redemption.
But some True Fallen angels weren’t complete assholes, and a handful worked here in Sheoul-gra, too.
Before she’d come to live here last year she hadn’t been able to imagine that her father’s domain could be so beautiful, and apparently, that hadn’t always been the case. His marriage to a Heavenly angel a few years ago had transformed not just him, but his very realm.
Now, instead of dead, blackened foliage that ate people, there was lush grass and vibrant trees. Instead of fountains that ran with blood, there were clear lakes and streams, and fountains with sparkling water. And instead of soot-covered, dilapidated ruins, there were dormitories and gyms, cafeterias and libraries.
Inhaling air made fragrant by rare giant poppies imported from Sheoul’s Horun region, she jogged along a worn path leading to the senior Memitim quarters, hoping to find her brother Hawkyn and Cipher. Hawk had been her mentor since just after she was plucked from her human life a little over fifty years ago, and she trusted him more than anyone. Cipher, as an Unfallen angel, paid for his room and board by providing valuable tech services. Where one was found, the other was usually close by.
Although now that Hawk had a mate and a baby on the way, he spent less time goofing off with Cipher than he used to.
Fortunately, she spotted their blond heads outside in the Commons near the dorms, sitting at one of the big stone table and bench sets. Cipher was hunched over his laptop, his long hair obscuring his handsome face, his fingers tapping on the keyboard with blurring speed, and Hawk was cursing up a storm.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
Hawkyn gestured to Cipher. “He’s developing a database of all unawakened brothers and sisters so we can start bringing them here in some kind of order.”
She remembered her days as an unawakened angel, thinking she was human, living in the human world with a wonderful human family, and her heart thudded fondly. She’d been one of the few, maybe the only, Memitim to have been given a decent life. The rest of her siblings, thousands of them, born over the course of several millennia, had grown up under the worst conditions imaginable. It was by design—angel mothers giving them up to be raised in the human world so they’d understand hardship and humanity.
Suzanne had been lucky, and it warmed her heart to know that, thanks to her father and Hawkyn, all the children currently under the age of twenty who lived in the human world would be brought here, to be raised among their real family.
“Okay,” she said, “the database sounds great. So what’s the problem?”
Hawkyn growled under his breath. “The Memitim Council, which is supposed to have provided us with the records, hasn’t delivered them all. I’d estimate that there are about five hundred missing.”
“Out of...?”
“Approximately eleven hundred and sixty-three.” Cipher talked as he typed, not looking up from the screen. “There would have been more if Azagoth hadn’t started balking about playing baby-daddy a while back. And there are none under the age of four, which coincides with when he married Lilliana.”
“Well, let me know when the little ones start arriving. I’ll put together some kid-friendly meal plans.” She chewed on her lower lip for a second, hesitant to interrupt... But this was important. “Are you guys too busy to help me out for a minute?”
Cipher merely cocked an eyebrow, but in an instant Hawkyn flipped his switch into overprotective brother mode. “’Sup, sis?”
She sank down next to Cipher on the bench before either noticed that her legs were still a little shaky from the encounter with the demon.
“What kind of demon is about twelve feet tall, has horns, hooves, a big mantle of black fur around its shoulders, and attacks with some sort of psychic ability?” Well, the guy had also carried a massive sword with an eight-foot blade. “Oh, and he can take human form.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Hawkyn said. “You sure it used a psychic attack? Was your Primori the victim?”
“Yes, to both.”
“He’s okay, right?” Hawk braced his elbows on the picnic table and leaned toward her. “What’s his name? Declan?”
Hawkyn knew Declan’s name, but for some reason her brother was constantly trying to distance himself, as if doing so would also distance her from Declan. He worried too much.
“He’s being tended to. I’ll check on him after I’m done here.” She turned to Cipher, who was still tapping away on his computer. “Have you heard of a demon like that?”
“No, but I’m checking the angelic and Baradocian databases now.” He squinted at the screen. “Did the demon look like a toad with horns?” At her shake of the head, he tried again. “Did it have spines?” Another shake. “Did it spew mucus from a sphincter-looking thing in its chin?”
“Ew, and thankfully, no.”
Two birds of prey clashed overhead in the endless blue-gray sky, but Cipher didn’t so much as blink. Once he was engaged on the computer, she doubted even a naked female could tear him away. Well, maybe Flail could. The skanky raven-haired True Fallen had been hanging around Sheoul-gra for a few months, running errands for Azagoth. Cipher claimed all they did was “game” together.
Uh-huh. A scantily-clad siren like Flail and a model-hot male like Cipher didn’t just sit around and play video games. Suzanne might be a virgin, but she was a seventy-five-year-old one who’d been around the block. Plus, she’d learned a lot from Cosmopolitan and Sex and the City.
“Was the demon surrounded by light?” Cipher asked.
Finally! She sat up straight. “Yes.”
He spun the laptop around. “Is this your demon?”
The picture on the screen, a rough charcoal drawing, was dead on, and she actually shivered. “That’s the ugly bastard.”
“What is it?” Hawk asked.
Cipher whipped the computer back to him. “According to Baradoc’s classification, it’s a Siecher.” He grimaced. “It’s a five on the Ufelskala. Extremely dangerous, impossible to reason with, and carries grudges to the grave. Cross one of these, and it will seek revenge until you and the last of your line is dead. It’s a big fan of slaughtering friends and neighbors, as well.”
“Yikes.” She shuddered, remembering his words to her. Get in my way again, and I’ll play until you and every one of your kin are nothing but broken flesh dolls. “Do they attack for any reason other than revenge?”
One of Cipher’s big shoulders rolled in a lazy shrug. “They’re carnivores, but according to this they don’t usually prey on humans, and they rarely even leave the demon realm.”
If that was true, why would it have attacked Declan? Ugh. Mysteries. She hated them. She’d never been patient enough for that. Which might be why she enjoyed cooking. Recipes rarely made her guess.
“So how do you kill these things?”
Cipher scrolled down the screen and let out a frustrated curse. “It doesn’t say. Just that they’re hard to injure.”
“That’s certainly true,” she muttered.
“Did you fight it?” Hawkyn’s sharp tone meant his overprotective nature had gone into overdrive. Great. He was such a pain in the ass when he went all papa bear. His kid was going to hate life.
“Not for long,” she assured him. “I think my presence freaked it out. I certainly didn’t hurt it badly.”
“Did it use a psychic attack on you?”
“Nope. He used good old-fashioned swords and some serious stomps with his hooves. My ribs are going to hurt for a week.” She rubbed said ribs and winced. “Oh, and its psychic attack on Declan didn’t trigger my Primori alarm.”
“What?” Hawkyn frowned. “That’s...bad.”
“You think?” Even now she was feeling antsy with the need to check on Declan. If she wasn’t getting notice that he was in danger, he could already be dead from another demon attack. “I don’t know if that’s a result of my heraldi being defective or if this particular demon doesn’t trigger the alarm.”
“Dude.” Cipher let out a low whistle. “What are you going to do? Watch him twenty-four seven?”
The idea of spending every waking minute with Declan filled her with a warm, liquid sensation that was, no doubt, forbidden. Memitim were supposed to be emotionless robots who did their jobs and didn’t ask questions or get involved with their charges. Straying from that mandate often resulted in punishment in the form of more years of service or even being purged from the Memitim program...which meant that they couldn’t Ascend to Heaven to become a full, winged angel.
“I can convene with the Council,” Hawkyn said. “Make sure you don’t get assigned another Primori until this is handled. Memitim used to get at least a decade with only a single Primori, but the Council fears Memitim shortages in the future until Heavenly angels start giving birth to offspring with our skills and abilities.”
Oh, how she loved her brother. Yes, she had thousands of them, all the product of their father, Azagoth’s, unions with Heavenly angels for the purpose of creating the Memitim class. Azagoth had stopped making Memitim when he took Lilliana as a mate, so Heaven had decided to allow any angel to give birth to Memitim-class children. Which meant she wouldn’t have any more brothers and sisters until Azagoth and Lilliana had children. No big deal; the ones she knew, she loved. Especially Hawk, who had been there for her almost from the moment she’d learned the truth about what she really was. She’d definitely take him up on his offer.
“That would be helpful.” It would be just her luck that she’d get assigned a bunch more Primori when she needed to spend all her time on just one. “Do you think they’ll go for it?”
“Normally, no. But these are special circumstances.”
“Okay, so having Declan as my only charge will make keeping an eye on him easier, but realistically, I can’t just hang out in the shrowd or at the places he frequents all the time. His coworkers and friends probably already think I’m a stalker. I’m going to need an excuse to be near him.”
Cipher looked up from the computer. “What’s he do for a living?”
“He’s a security expert and bodyguard—” She broke off as the obvious solution popped into her head. Then she grinned. “I’m going to need a D’Angelo house, preferably in Texas where he works, and a story.”
“Whoa, now,” Hawk said, holding up his hands. “Slow down. I don’t know that inserting yourself into Declan’s life is a good idea.”
But Cipher was already on it, his fingers tapping madly on the keyboard. “There are three D’Angelo houses available in Texas. One is set up like a crack house in Houston, one is in a middle-class neighborhood in Austin, and...” He gave a thumbs-up. “The third is a mansion in Dallas. Perfect for someone who needs to hire a bodyguard.”
“Cool.” Dallas was spot on, given that Declan lived in the city. “Will you work up my backstory and set the wheels in motion?”
“You got it. Gimme forty-eight hours.”
Hawkyn shook his head slowly. “You know Heavenly angels don’t like sharing their D’Angelo network with lowly Memitim. They might not let you take over one of their properties or use their cover name for setting up an alias.”
“Pfft.” Cipher swiped his fingers over the laptop’s touchpad. “They don’t care. Lets them show lowly Memitim how much better it is to be a real angel.”
Hawkyn shot his buddy an annoyed look, but it wasn’t clear if he was annoyed that Cipher wasn’t helping him win the argument or if he was irked by Cipher’s calling Heavenly angels “real” and implying that Memitim were chopped liver. Fake chopped liver.
“I don’t like this.” Hawkyn growled.
Of course he didn’t. Hawkyn wouldn’t like anything that required her to openly spend time in the human realm. Memitim were supposed to watch their charges from the invisibility and safety of the shrowd and interact with humans as little as possible. What she was planning would fully immerse her in the world of not only humans, but her Primori.
“It’s the only way I can protect him from the psychic attacks,” she pointed out.
“It’s also the perfect way for you to get too close to him, Suz. You’ve already interacted more than you should with the people around him, and you’re way more infatuated with him than you should be.”
Cipher snorted. “Says the guy who fell in love with the person he was protecting.”
“That’s different,” Hawkyn protested. “Aurora isn’t my Primori. She wasn’t Primori at all when I met her.”
Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’ll be fine. Besides,” she said with a wink that never failed to disarm Hawk, “my favorite brother is on the Memitim Council.”
He gave her a you-know-better-than-that look. “I’m not technically on the Council.”
“You’re the liaison between the Council and the rest of us. I have faith that you can keep me out of trouble.”
Hawkyn ran a hand over his face as if trying to scrub away his frustration. “Hey, I have a crazy idea. How about you keep yourself out of trouble? That would be great.”
She laughed. She never got into trouble, and he knew it. She could do this job and get out unscathed.
But even as that thought went through her head, a niggle of doubt cast a shadow. Her feelings for Declan were probably already inappropriate for the type of relationship they had—which was none. It was all one-sided because he barely knew she existed. And he believed she was human.
And the thing was, it had to stay that way. Romance between Memitim and Primori was forbidden. Beyond forbidden. And while, over the course of many thousands of years, several Memitim had failed to protect their very first Primori, none had fallen for them.
Suzanne had already fallen for hers. The question now was what she should do about it.