Damn, it would be nice to be able to flash like the normal offspring of a fallen angel, but that wasn’t an option for Blaspheme. It would never be an option.

On instinct, she gripped her mother’s wrist and tried to channel healing energy into her, but that talent had been rendered useless a long time ago.

Dammit!

“Just hold on,” she told her mom as she wove her car through the streets, narrowly avoiding sideswiping a cab and a messenger on a bike.

She whipped into the underground parking lot owned by the hospital but off-limits to the human public, drove through a false wall, and practically skidded to a halt in a stall in the hospital’s hidden parking lot. Then, for a split second, an eternity, really, she hesitated.

Everyone at the hospital believed Blas was a False Angel. She could come up with an explanation as to why her mother wasn’t the same species, but doing so could raise questions. Questions from the one person she was pretty sure was already suspicious.

A mere two weeks ago, Eidolon, Underworld General’s founder and chief of staff, had been just cryptic enough in his warning to stay away from Revenant that she’d been paranoid ever since.

Her mother groaned, and suddenly, it didn’t matter what Eidolon suspected. Her job… hell, her life… was at risk, but so was Deva’s, and she couldn’t let her mother die.

Quickly, she leaped out of the vehicle and ran through the sliding doors to the emergency department.

“I need help!” she barked, and in an instant, Luc, a werewolf paramedic, and Raze, a Seminus demon physician, rushed outside with a stretcher.

Moments later, Blaspheme was in an exam room, gloved up, while Luc checked vitals and Raze channeled his healing power into Deva. His scowl indicated that he was having trouble.

“Her stomach ruptured,” he said. “Dammit, there’s a tear in her transverse colon. I can heal the tears right now, but she needs surgery to clean out the contaminants.” He looked over at Blas. “It’s a huge risk, though. I know you’re aware that False Angels don’t respond well to anesthesia.”

Shit. Blaspheme did not want to reveal the truth about her mother – and potentially, herself – but she couldn’t compromise Deva’s health by sending her into surgery with doctors who thought she was something other than what she was. Maybe she could play fast and loose with the facts and hope no one dug too deep.

Blas glanced up as she prepared an IV site in the back of her mother’s hand. “She’s not a False Angel.”

Raze cocked an eyebrow. “But you said she’s your mother.”

“She’s my adoptive mother,” she lied. “She’s a fallen angel.” At least the second part was the truth.

Raze’s hand jerked, and he cursed under his breath. She understood his shock; fallen angels were rare, they were mostly evil assholes, and as far as Sheoulic denizens went, they were at the top of the food chain.

Raze’s ginger hair, longer in front than in the back, fell over his eyes as he leaned in for a closer look at Deva’s abdominal wound. “This is strange.”

Those weren’t words you wanted a doctor to say. She attempted to summon her most useful FA ability, what was commonly called X-ray vision, used by False Angels to determine the health or virility of their potential victims. As a medical professional, Blas had found a better use for it.

Sadly, it barely flickered before snuffing out. Great. Another False Angel ability was failing. How long before they were all gone and her true identity was revealed?

“What’s strange?” she asked.

“I can’t heal her. Nothing’s happening.”

“What?” Blas looked up from inserting an IV catheter into Deva’s vein to stare at the incubus. “Are you out of juice?”

He held up his right arm, which was covered in glowing glyphs from his throat to his fingers. “My power is at full charge. I’m telling you, it’s not me. It’s her.”

The vibe. What if the weird vibe coming off her mother was somehow interfering with Raze’s powers?

Raze glanced over at her. “Can you take a look inside her and tell me what’s going on?”

“I just tried,” she said. “I think I’m too emotional.”

Raze nodded, apparently buying her bullshit story for the X-ray failure.

Her mother groaned, and her eyes flickered open. Her hand fumbled for Blas’s. “Alone,” she rasped. “I need to talk to you alone.”

Blaspheme looked up at Raze. “Arrange for an OR. We’ll get her into surgery right away. And page Eidolon. I want him on this.” Despite Blas’s fears of discovery, she needed him. As the most skilled, most experienced doctor in the entire underworld, Eidolon just might be the only one who could save her mother.

Raze and Luc took off, leaving her alone with Deva.

“Mom,” she said quietly. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Angels,” she said, and Blaspheme’s stomach churned. “I was attacked by angels.”

Which explained the vibe and Raze’s difficulty healing her. Some angelic weapons caused injury that couldn’t be repaired using supernatural means.

“Where were you?” Blaspheme squeezed her mother’s hand when Deva’s eyes closed. “Hey, stay with me. Where were you when they attacked you?”

“Home,” she rasped. “They found me, Blaspheme.”

A chill crawled up her spine. “They?” She had a sickening feeling she knew who they were, and she prayed she was wrong.