CHAPTER 16
The shift melted away her human costume. Beneath that, muscle liquefied and stretched. Bone grew to adamant black metal forged from Beneath. The Sinistari demon grew two feet taller than her mortal form, arms bulging with muscle and powerful thighs thickening. Skin was replaced with an armor of black metal. Horns curved down the center of the skull and back of the neck.
Hooves dug into the wood floorboards as it charged, the angel-killing Joe held ready to stab.
The muse, pinned to the wall by the angel, screamed madly.
The Fallen spied the Sinistari and howled, high-pitched and not of this earth, but did not release his prey.
Pyxion leaped over the sofa, a hoof biting through the green velvet and taking out a chunk. A backhanded smack flung the glass table aside. The demon growled, revealing square teeth designed for doing damage.
The Fallen ignored the nuisance, ripping open the fly on the mortal jeans it wore, for it was only half-shifted from hips up—it was the only way the normally sexless angel could mate with a human.
The muse’s manic scream suddenly faltered. Her cries ceased. She fainted, wilting against the Fallen’s blue glass chest.
The angel couldn’t support the muse and tear down his jeans at the same time. He was also aware its shifted flesh would quickly freeze the mortal’s skin. He dropped the muse and stepped back. Glass wings scraped the walls and tore gouges through the living-room wall.
Suddenly the Fallen jerked his head up. Glowing blue eyes sought the Sinistari.
Jaw tight, the Fallen struggled. “Pyx.” The angel’s voice was deep and metallic. “Do it!”
The angel spread out his arms, opening his chest and giving the demon a clear target for the red heart that glimmered behind the solid yet flexible, glass chest.
Lifting her arms overhead and gripping Joe with both fists, Pyxion charged toward the Fallen.
Toward an angel who had turned his back on his master by falling.
Toward the Sinistari’s only enemy.
Toward the one being in this world who had opened her steel heart to the marvel of humanity.
The blade screamed through the air, yet Pyx’s muscles tightened. As the blade tip touched glass her movement stopped.
The angel lunged, pushing the blade tip into the liquid blue skin. The tip was soaked in qeres, the poison that promised the first sweet breath of the afterlife when it penetrated the angel’s heart.
The demon twisted a muscled black fist, withdrawing the blade and—Pyx threw the blade aside, landing it point-first in the wall near the door.
The muse, now conscious, slid away from the pair, her palms guiding her along the wall. Eyes wide and mascara running down her cheeks, she squeaked nervously.
“Get out of here,” the angel bellowed at her. “Save yourself!”
The muse scrambled out on all fours, stood, and ran down the stairs.
Pyx stepped away from the angel.
“Do it!” the Fallen growled. “Kill me!”
“No.” She turned from him, bowing her head.
Slapping a metallic hand against her chest clanged loudly. So hard on the outside, yet inside, something had changed. She had become…soft.
Pyx shifted to human shape. Her arms tugged and the heavy metal skeletal structure gave way to weak mortal flesh. Garnet hair spilled down her bare back. She turned and rushed down the hallway, not wanting to show her weakness to the powerful half-formed angel who seethed at her.
Slamming the muse’s bedroom door behind her, Pyx plunged to the thick white rug spread at the end of the bed. Gripping the long, soft fibers and bending over her knees, she let out a keening wail.
* * *
Cooper shifted to mortal form. It was like shaking off ice adhered to his mortal skin, accompanied by a cutting sting as the ineffable glass cracked off his arms and vaporized. His shoulders hung heavily. The sigil on his abdomen ceased to glow. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.
The muse had fled.
Never had he witnessed such utter terror in a human being. Sophia’s eyes had mirrored a creature—him. It sickened him he had been responsible for her fear. He was a soulless monster who could not control his own base lust.
Yet in the moment he’d worn wings granted by Him, his perception of the world had altered. Juphiel had taken control. All he’d wanted was to fulfill the original mission the Fallen had agreed to. The desire had been instinctual. No part of the man he had become since landing on earth this second time had been able to wrestle the unfeeling and mechanistic angel he was from the task.
More surprising? Even when he’d pleaded, the Sinistari had not slain him. Because the demon was Pyx and she had gotten to know him, Cooper, the man. And she hadn’t been able to bring herself to kill him. What a pitiful demon.
“What a pitiful Fallen one you are.”
Shaking his head, he let his eyes roam the walls where his wings had cut gashes and left behind disaster. Sophia would return and never be able to rationalize what had occurred. He could never face her again.
He must never face her again.
He’d get himself as far from Paris as possible. Until he found his halo, he was a danger to one vulnerable and kind mortal woman. She hadn’t asked for this. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a brood mare for the Fallen’s vicious and twisted desires.
He would flash right now—
Sniffles from somewhere down the hallway distracted Cooper from his intent. Who was here? Had the muse…? No, she’d run out.
Pyx.
He padded down the hardwood floor. When he’d shifted, his shirt had shredded and fallen away. His jeans had begun to tear at the waist, but they were still intact. No shoes though. Why did the shoes get kicked off when shifting? His feet didn’t change shape.
It was an anomaly that puzzled Cooper to no end.
If Pyx were still around she would be naked, for her shift to demon had ripped away all her clothing. The Sinistari was a hulking, muscular beast forged from metal. An even match to an angel. Perhaps a greater match to a Fallen, for the angel was grounded, unable to use his wings to fly away from a threat.
They were more alike than she could ever imagine.
Pushing the ajar bedroom door inside, Cooper spied the naked woman bent over and huddled upon a white rug. Her head was tucked against her knees and soft sniffles trickled tears down her leg.
“Pyx?”
“Go away!”
The vehemence in her tone cautioned his need to rush in and hug her.
Cooper clung to the door frame, his grip gouging the soft pine wood. He wasn’t about to leave her. Mortal tears were supposed to burn the Sinistari. Cooper didn’t know how that felt, but right now, each tear that plopped onto Pyx’s leg felt like a demon’s blade stabbing him in the heart.
Her blade had cut his flesh, and when he’d wanted to jam it deep into his heart and give her the win—and her mortal soul—she had pulled it out.
“Why didn’t you do it?” he asked. “You had a clear shot at me. You could have claimed your mortal soul. It is all you want. So you can belong.”
He wanted that for her, more than he wanted humanity.
She pressed onto her palms. Long hair concealed the side of her face closest to Cooper, so he couldn’t see her expression. It also veiled her bare breasts.
“I couldn’t do it. I cannot conceive of killing you. Some Sinistari I turned out to be! No wonder they snickered at me behind my back when I was Beneath. I’m just a stupid girl. A stupid. Feeling. Girl!”
Allowing himself a smile at her ridiculous argument, Cooper scanned the room and spied a red blanket folded over a wicker chaise. He summoned it to his grasp with a gesture and laid it across Pyx’s shoulders, then knelt beside her on the thick rug. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he stroked his thumb along the tear trail painting her reddened cheek.
She rubbed her cheek with a fist. “Don’t look at me. I’m a failure.”
“You? Please. I’m the failure. I couldn’t do what my destiny demands of me. I should have shoved you aside and attempted my muse. But…”
He’d wanted it over within that moment. To have the situation resolved—either by his death or by taking the muse. But that he’d survived only meant he must face this dilemma.
He’d never wanted what his Fallen brethren wanted.
“Fine couple of murderous bastards we turned out to be, eh?”
She chuckled through her tears and a few final drops splattered her lashes.
“I didn’t want to harm her, Pyx.”
“I know that.”
“It tears me up inside that I scared her. I was so close. You should have plunged Joe into my heart.”
“I couldn’t stab you because…” She tossed her head to the side. Bright multicolored eyes fixed to his and touched him. “I like you, Cooper. I’m pretty sure about that, even though I’m still learning things every day and I’m not completely up on all the emotions.”
“Like is good.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not the strongest way to describe how I feel. I can’t do the other…you know…”
“The other?”
She winced and scratched her head, avoiding his searching gaze.
Did she mean love? Could Pyx’s like be love? The idea of it warmed Cooper’s chest and he thought he felt a flutter deep inside. But that was ridiculous. Angel hearts did not beat.
Nor did demon hearts beat. Love was the one crime that would see a Sinistari punished with endless torture. It wouldn’t be wise for Pyx to even think she felt it.
“Oh, sure. I understand,” he reassured. “I like like. It’s a good word. Not overbearing. But not weak, either. I like you, too.”
“Really? I’ve never been in like before,” she said, perking up. “But I think this might be what it’s all about. This whole human experience.”
“It’s said that’s why He put them here on earth. To learn to lo—er, like one another. To simply embrace like and all its goodness.”
She lunged up on her knees, bracketed his face, and kissed him. “Yes. Goodness. Like. All that it embraces. Like you and me. Hold me, Cooper. Show me how much you like me.”
“Pyx, we could do this.”
“What?”
“Us. Do you want to?”
“Us?”
“I know you’re scared. I am, too.”
“I think so, but I can’t—”
He kissed her to silence her protest.
“Let’s not talk about this here,” Cooper said. “Sophia will be back. Or certainly she’s called the police.”
“Right. Poor woman. She’s going to be freaked.”
“Don’t remind me. I may have damaged her for life. Damn it, I hate that I could not control myself. I never chose to Fall for the muse. You know that, right?”
She nodded. “You fell in lo—er, like with humanity. Stupid angel.” She thunked him on the forehead with a snap of her finger.
Cooper took her fingers and kissed them. “Maybe so. So why am I like my other Fallen brethren? Why couldn’t I stop myself from attacking the muse? Part of me knew it was wrong.”
“Just like my need to slay you. I know it is what is expected of me.”
“You need to prove yourself.”
“Do I? There’s a part of me that screams how wrong it is.”
“But you have always loved humanity, Pyx.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Cooper sighed. Yes, she had. Dare he tell her? How would that upset the balance that must exist—Sinistari stalking Fallen?
He looked aside. He didn’t want Pyx to see his eyes, because she might see the truth he wanted to keep to himself.
He scooped her up and set her on the bed. Hastening to Sophia’s closet he sorted through the clothes on hangers, his finger playing over velvet, silk and soft sweaters, and pulled out a black knit dress. He tossed it to Pyx. “Will that do?”
“Yep.” She pulled it over her head and down her thighs. It was obviously too small, for it fit snugly. Everywhere. “Let’s get out of here before we’re arrested. Hell, you could be arrested for the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“I’d gladly serve the time. We’ve only begun, Pyx. I’m not letting you out of my arms until we’ve made love.”
“Can we not use that word?”
“Oh? Right. We can make, er…like?”
“That sounds stupid.” He shrugged.
“Let’s go have sex.”
“I’m on board with that.”
* * *
The muse hit the street in tears. She staggered along the side of the glass-tiled building, one hand sliding along the wall. Bruce, who had been standing across the street, eyes on the window of the muse’s apartment, dropped the cell phone he’d been dialing to Antonio in the front seat and crossed the street, keeping far enough behind the muse.
Her frantic state kept her from noticing him. Had the angel screwed her? Nah, couldn’t have. She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn when she’d invited the angel up, and it had only been about fifteen minutes.
That damned Sinistari must have stopped the Fallen. Bruce had seen her run inside the building, but hadn’t wanted to race after her, knowing he’d have to face both a Fallen and a demon, and that wouldn’t end well for him.
Why hadn’t Antonio formed a full-assault tactical team? They needed one if they were to deal with both angels and demons. There had to be an easier way to get this job done. All tribe Anakim ultimately needed was the muse, pregnant.
So had the demon killed the angel?
“Hope not.”
But it was likely. Why wouldn’t the demon slay her prey?
This was Antonio’s fault for not putting more men on the job, but it would also look bad for Bruce, who should have had the whole thing under control. So there was only one other option to save face with the boss man.
Picking up his pace, Bruce snuck closer to the sniffling muse. She stopped behind the apartment building, clinging to the wall. She had to be freaked if she’d witnessed either beast shift shapes.
He approached cautiously, knowing as well, she probably didn’t need a stranger sneaking up on her right now.
Picking up pace to a normal walk, Bruce made as if he was walking down the street. He passed her by, hands in his pockets, ready to cross the street, when he paused and look back at her.
He put on his most compassionate expression, and added his charming smile just for good measure. “Mademoiselle? Are…you all right? Can I get someone for you?”
She turned away from him, crying, her cheek pressed to the tiles.
“Oh, hey there. You need the police?” He stepped closer but didn’t touch her. She shook her head in a manner he couldn’t tell was yes or no. “Some asshole say something mean to you? I don’t want to frighten you, but I can’t let you stand here all sad like that. Is it okay if I stand with you a bit?”
She nodded it was okay. He was in.
“Fight with the boyfriend?”
She swiped the back of her hand under one eye, effectively wiping the smear of mascara away, but a black trail slid down the other cheek.
Bruce made to wipe it away, but paused, waiting for her approval. She nodded, and he gently touched her cheek. Man, she smelled great. Fear lingered in her blood, giving it a salty yet savory aroma. He loved fear-laced blood.
But a smart vampire would keep his fangs up. Even if the Fallen had been wasted by the demon, this muse was still prime. She could lure any number of Fallen to her; all Antonio had to do was conjure another one.
“Merci,” she said in a tiny voice. “I just… It was so terrible. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Tell me. I’ll call for help if you need me to.”
“Yes. The police. They might still be in my apartment.”
“I have a cell phone in my car. It’s across the street. Come on.”
Like a good little girl, she allowed him to lead her across the street. She even sat in the passenger seat when he offered, tucking her legs in before her and smoothing her torn skirt.
Bruce closed the door behind her, and marveled how easy that had been.
“One muse, coming right up.”