CHAPTER 3
Pyx suspected the vampires were following the Fallen for a specific purpose.
When a Fallen one successfully impregnated a muse—meaning a Sinistari had not done their job—the resulting child was a nephilim. The nephilim grew to maturity in less than a week, and began to feed. On everything. Including people. The abominable creature gave new meaning to the term blood hungry.
It ached in her chest when she thought about it. She had been responsible for allowing a nephilim to walk this earth so many millennia ago. You failed.
Never again.
Could the vampires be after the resulting nephilim? What the vampires planned to do with the creature once they had it was beyond Pyx. But any creature that fed on blood must be of interest to vampires.
Flicking at the dried blood on her scalp, she dusted off the black crust. The wound had healed, but not her pride. She really wanted to lay some vampire ass flat for no other reason than that they had pissed her off. And she’d probably get a chance since they seemed very interested in Cooper.
“Cooper Truhart.” She snorted and settled on the steps out front of his building. “Stupid name.”
Like Pyxion was any better. The Other, even. Man, had that been a joke on her.
Beneath had been no ball of fun. An empty void of darkness run through by a mercury sea roiling with wickedness. Pyx had wandered aimlessly, never finding anything but sea and darkness. The few times she had met another of her breed they’d recognized each other by name. It was simply a knowing.
Her fellow Sinistari had sneered and berated her. They had somehow known she was different, ineffectual, though their true demonic forms were all similar and sexless.
Well, she could do the woman thing. Just watch!
Her feminine wiles seemed to have an incredible effect on the Fallen. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her in the club. And when she’d pressed against him on the Metro she had felt his exhale against her cheek. And though she knew an angel’s glass heart did not beat, she had felt something throbbing against her thigh.
“Wiles,” she muttered. “Whatever that means. I got lucky. But I’m going to start paying attention from here on out. I’ll be the best damn woman demon my Sinistari brethren have ever seen. No more sneers for me.”
Perhaps she could use her female status to her advantage. It was apparent Cooper was in no hurry to locate his muse.
That had to change.
She didn’t look forward to tracking him all over the world until he decided when was a good time to switch into Fallen-claims-his-muse mode. She had to prove herself.
But she couldn’t sleep out on the steps hoping Cooper would trip over her in the morning. Not that she needed sleep, nor did the angel.
Scanning her sight about the dark neighborhood, Pyx roamed up and down the brick-fronted three-and fourstoried buildings. A residential neighborhood with narrow, cobbled streets and steel poles to prevent cars from parking on an even narrower sidewalk. It was charming, if she were to label it. Though charm meant as little to her as experiencing touch for the first time—it was a nuisance.
Closeness to the mark meant everything.
She spied a sign with red writing, loger disponible. “Room available.” It sat across the street and around the corner from where she had determined Cooper’s apartment must be. Perfect.
Striding across the street, she approached the building. The foyer opened without a code, but she hesitated punching a button on the speaker box this late at night. Mortals were snoozing. It wasn’t that she had a problem punching all the buttons and waking them up; she didn’t want to interact right now.
Drawing her finger down the list of apartments, she found the one missing a name. “Third floor, apartment 12.”
The inner lobby door was locked. Pointing her forefinger, she shifted enough to grow out the long adamant talon from the top of her fingertip. She slid the talon between the door and frame, toggling it against the dead bolt. Her talon slid the solid bolt to the left, and with a shove, the door opened.
Pyx blew on her talon as if blowing the smoke from a gun—something she’d seen on a movie poster pasted in a video-shop window—then resumed complete mortal costume.
She dashed up the stairs to the third floor. Naturally, the apartment door was locked. No talons necessary this time. One kick loosened the lock in the wood door frame. Pyx marched inside.
The apartment was furnished sparely with modern glass-topped counters, unbleached pine wood, and a coffee table and leather furniture. It smelled vaguely of pine air freshener. The black leather sofa looked comfy. Pyx made a jump and landed on it with her hands clasped behind her head. She crossed her legs at the ankles.
“This’ll work. Furnished and everything.” She dug in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the iPod she’d nicked earlier. “Music in my hand. How cool is that?”
She played around with the small jewel-colored device. Lots of music. Movies. A pedometer? Why would anyone want to know how many steps they have walked? “Mortals are strange.”
The video camera proved intriguing. Zooming it about the room she recorded…nothing.
Searching the previously recorded clips, she clicked on one. It featured a woman with a blond ponytail standing in a kitchen making deli-meat sandwiches. She looked at whoever was holding the video camera and said, “I love you.”
The holder asked, “Is that all?”
“Yep. I just love you.”
“Aww.” Pyx flicked off the device. “Sweet as sin. But that sandwich did look good. I wonder if there’s food in the fridge.”
It had been hours since she’d eaten. Gluttony was definitely her favorite mortal sin.
Kicking off her boots, Pyx then wandered into the kitchen while itching at the fresh tattoo on her back. It had already scabbed and she could feel the new skin beneath. Mortal flesh was so freakin’ sensitive. She felt everything, even a breeze across her cheek.
She’d never experienced such novelty. Dancing in the club had overloaded her new-experience radar. She’d shut herself off to touch, but now, alone, she connected to it again.
She grabbed a shiny apple from an elegant glass bowl. It was cool and slick. Smelled, hmm…not how she expected fruit to smell. Kind of…oily. Before she took a bite, she realized it was wood. “Tricky.” She tossed it over her shoulder into the living area.
The fridge was empty, as were the cupboards. “How’s a demon supposed to survive in this realm without sustenance?”
The front door banged inward and someone clattered down the parquet hallway into the kitchen. A man wearing only blue-striped pajama bottoms, his tumescent belly hanging over the waistband, and his white hair tousled upon his head, eyed her up and down.
“What are you doing here, mademoiselle? This is not your apartment?”
“Of course it is.” Pyx sauntered over and laid her palm against his forehead. “And I paid you a month’s rent already. Remember?”
He nodded, shrugged, then nodded again.
“I think someone tried to break in. The lock is jammed on the door.” She removed her hand.
The man nodded. “I’ll have a look at it first thing in the morning. Do you need a new key?”
“Darn right I do. Talk about shoddy upkeep. I wonder, should I find a better place that has a more studious custodian?”
“Oh, no, I will see to it at first light. It was surely an isolated incident. This is a lovely building and our custodian is a gem.”
“All right, but if it happens again, I’m out of here.”
“So sorry to have disturbed you, mademoiselle…?”
“Pyxion. I’ll see you bright and early with a new lock. Good night, funny little man.”
“Bon nuit.” He shuffled out and tugged at the door a bit before finally getting it to click securely shut.
Pyx crossed her arms and smirked. Mortals. So easy to influence.
From this angle she could see the front of Cooper’s building and would notice when he left and could even see the light on in his apartment. She would keep the light off so he wouldn’t see her.
“If he goes near the muse, I’ll be right there, ready to kill him.”
* * *
Cooper poured a cup of green tea and sat down at the kitchen table before the laptop. He put his bare feet up on another chair and leaned back, shrugging his fingers through his hair.
He’d washed away the vampire blood. The smell of vamps put him off, and he felt sure now he’d sense the next one before he saw it because it was an unmistakable scent of dust, metal and ash.
The kilt was a loss, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need a closet of clothing because if he required a new shirt he simply imagined it on himself, and it became so. Nice trick of the trade.
What an interesting night he’d had. Vampires and Sinistari after him?
He’d hoped to spend more time in this world free of such trouble. But he wasn’t stupid. The Sinistari came with the territory when one chose to Fall. And he couldn’t argue with the chance to get out some aggression.
It had felt sweet to rip the vamp’s heart from its chest. Yet now, he felt a twinge of regret. He’d killed far too often when serving in the angelic ranks. Killing had been as natural as taking a breath. Smite this village. Slay that wrongdoer. All because he had been ordered to do so.
The stench of death had reeked on him; it had never been absent. And as an angel he’d not been attuned to the senses like touch, taste and smell. So the fact he’d eventually noticed that stench had screwed with his ideas of right and wrong.
Rather, it had become the catalyst to his developing a sense of right and wrong.
Angels weren’t supposed to choose sides. They were unfeeling entities that served Him without question. But Juphiel had changed. Another angel had allowed him to see that he had a choice. That is why he’d Fallen. Juphiel could no longer kill with abandon.
And yet, Cooper Truhart was still doing it.
Was it because death had been ingrained in his being?
“No, I will change. I must.”
With a gesture of his fingers, the laptop slid across the table to rest at the edge before him. He tapped the keyboard, thinking to type vampire in the search box, but figured that wouldn’t route him to any feasible answer on why the bloodsuckers were tracking him. Instead, he opened the email program and was pleased to find an answer to a message he’d sent to Eden Campbell two days ago.
He’d discovered Miss Campbell after an afternoon of searching the internet for halos and anything at all related to the Fallen. It was all myth and religious dogma to the mortals. They hadn’t a clue regarding the truth of it. Yet, he’d found a correspondence between Eden Campbell and Cassandra Stevens from months earlier that indicated both women were in the know. Eden had promised to send Cassandra a halo she had found because, as she’d written, it would give her hope. Eden definitely knew she had the real thing in hand.
Cooper had written to her, asking if he could take a look at her collection. He hadn’t given details like “Hey, I’m a Fallen and need to find my halo.” No, he didn’t want to scare her off until he could feel her out, sense if she might be worth trusting. A mortal may believe in halos, but in real angels? That was a long shot.
He clicked on the email. Campbell’s reply read: How did you get my email address? I don’t collect halos anymore. Do not contact me further.
Cooper sat back, and blew out a breath. “That’s it? No, ‘Sorry, can’t help you’? No, ‘I think I know of someone who can help’?”
He opened the file of saved emails between Cassandra and Eden and scanned them. “There.” He leaned in and began to type a reply.
What about MD?
MD were the mysterious initials Eden had mentioned in a post to Cassandra, a man who had helped her recently with the halos.
Hitting Send, Cooper hoped this trail would lead him somewhere.
Finding a halo on earth would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Only this needle was made of ineffable substance and had been lost on earth millennia ago. But if he could find someone who sought halos for a hobby, then he’d be ten steps closer to his goal than he was now.
* * *
By morning, starvation roiled Pyx’s gut. She picked up the cell phone she’d stolen, and scanned the address list. “No pizza delivery numbers.” Though a lot of spas and wine dealers were listed. She tucked the phone in a pocket and skipped down to street level.
A figure appeared in the big window on the third floor across the street. Cooper’s apartment. The sun was rising and she could plainly see the man standing in the window, gesturing she should come up.
Really?
“Don’t need to ask me twice.”
She rushed across the street. First the angel pushes her away and now he’s pulling her closer? Worked for her. Men had fallen for lesser reasons than a sexy woman.
And yet, angels had Fallen for that very reason.
Pyx smirked. “I can so work this one.”
He buzzed her in, and she navigated upward, following his scent instead of the angelic vibrations he put out. It wasn’t a particular odor she could compare to anything she had learned about the world, other than that it was simply and uniquely angel. And sexy.
“Bloody Beneath, Pyx, buck up. The angel is not sexy.”
The door opened to reveal Cooper standing in loose, dark jeans that hugged his hips. Cut muscles veed toward his jeans, pointing in a direction she couldn’t take her eyes from. Stunning, virile and—
Not sexy. Not sexy. Not…well…maybe.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, er—” She shrugged. “For food? Yes, food. Nothing else weird, or anything.”
“No, nothing weird,” he said with a secretive smirk.
His attire made her take stock of her own. Still wearing the same blood-smeared shirt and men’s jeans and boots. She needed to do some shopping to get a feel for what women wore, and then she could assume their costume with ease. “You inviting me in?” she asked, feeling a bit sheepish, and that feeling was so new, she went with it and shrugged her elbow up against the wall, hands tucked in her pockets.
“Why not? You were lurking.”
“Yeah, but—” Had he been watching her? Hope not, because she was the one watching him.
Cooper strode down the hallway and called over his shoulder, “Ever hear the one about keeping one’s enemies close?”
“Who said that?” Pyx wandered after him. “Some guy who took a knife in the back while his enemy was hugging him? So what’s changed? Last night you were eager to put distance between us.”
“Call it a change of heart.”
“Didn’t think an angel’s hard glass heart was capable,” Pyx said, entering the kitchen.
The high ceilings lent a feeling of vastness. Glass-fronted cabinets and black granite countertops gave it a modern flair. Blue and green tiles backed the counter, and gleaming appliances sat here and there.
Most significant were the stained-glass windows over the sink. The doors leading into an adjoining bedroom were also intricate stained glass; the design touted flowers, trees and peacocks.
Cooper slapped a palm over his chest where Pyx knew his heart did not beat. “You pick up a lot walking the earth. Emotions. Ideas. Humility. You’ll learn soon enough.”
“Oh, I picked up a great sandwich last night and a tattoo.”
“A tattoo?” Cooper smirked and wandered to the stovetop where a delicious scent wafted. “I’ve got crepes with fresh bananas and Nutella. That’s chocolate hazelnut spread, kind of like peanut butter, but…not.”
“Sounds fancy. You going to kill me with kindness?”
“Perhaps. So show me the tat.”
Turning and lifting the back of her shirt, Pyx displayed her artwork. Pride prickled her ego sweetly.
“A burning angel, eh?”
“You got it. Can’t wait to see you burn.”
Cooper redirected his attention to the cooking. “Nice.”
Pyx plopped onto a kitchen chair and propped her boots up on another chair. She leaned an elbow on the table. “How’s a guy who’s only been around a few weeks afford something like this? You get a job as a gigolo in those nightclubs you frequent?”
He chuckled sarcastically. “Could if I wanted to. But, no. The owner of this apartment was looking for someone to watch it during the summer while she vacations in Greece with her lover.”
“Good for you. Haven’t had to sell your body yet. I got a place, too.”
“Did you?”
“Fully furnished. Rent is paid for the month.”
She took the iPod from her pocket and switched it to video. Scanning it around the room, she recorded, for the heck of it. Zooming in on Cooper standing before the griddle, she moved the screen up and down his bare back. The muscles flexed with his motions. His skin was tan too, which appealed to her in ways she couldn’t quite process.
“It’s in the neighborhood, actually.”
“In the—” With a dripping spatula in hand, Cooper dashed into the nearby bedroom and looked out the window. “The sign is down. You didn’t,” he said, marching into the kitchen.
She caught video of his frustrated huff, and the splatter of crepe batter that drooled down his pant leg.
“The place across the street? But I saw you last night. How did you…? So quickly? You stole that place.”
Pyx shook the iPod at his accusing shake of spatula. “Dude, it’s my nature.”
“Poor excuse. You want to fit in with the humans while you’re here on earth? You’re going to have to work on your morality.”
“Look at you, all high and mighty.”
His smile was neither high nor mighty. It was genuinely appealing. Pyx wondered if morals had given him that appeal. But then, she knew better. “Cruising the clubs for booty doesn’t sound so moral to me.”
“It is the human condition to seek comfort in one another.”
“Comfort.” Pyx snorted. “So that’s what they’re calling it nowadays.”
He set a plate before her. A folded crepe hung over the edge. “You like bananas and chocolate?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never tried them.” She accepted the proffered fork and poked the delicious-looking delicacy. Brown, sweet spread oozed out. “You learned to cook in a few weeks? I shouldn’t admit it, but I am impressed. I thought the Fallen just stalked about looking for muses to bed.”
He poured batter on a wide griddle, his back to her. Every movement flexed the muscles. Strength, that was the appeal. Strength wrapped in warm human flesh that Pyx suspected would feel great if she touched.
“Did you hear me? I said—”
“I heard you,” he said, not turning around. “I choose not to dignify that remark with an answer.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those respectable angels who fell?”
“And you’re one of those annoying Sinistari.”
Touché. Well, if the shoe fit, she’d try it on and kick some ass with it. Thinking of which…she needed some more feminine shoes. But the high-heeled travesties she’d seen looked like a form of torture she’d rather avoid.
Pyx forked in a mouthful. Nummy. Oh, man! Chocolate rocked. And bananas, too. All oozing together. What a divine creation. Oops. Divinity had nothing to do with this meal. This was all about sinful deliciousness.
Minutes later, Cooper joined her with a folded crepe and sat down. Licking the chocolate from his thumb, he then dug in heartily. Pyx had already downed half her breakfast.
“I wouldn’t think this combination could work,” she commented. “Bananas and chocolate?”
“Sort of like angels and demons breaking their fast together, eh?”
“Yes, sort of.” Was she seriously here, doing…this?
He didn’t seem the least disturbed by her presence. The angel should be. The guy was one stab in the heart away from oblivion.
Pyx devoured another gooey, hot bite of crepe, and while she chewed, drew out her blade and placed it nonchalantly on the table beside her.
The Fallen smirked. “I don’t intimidate easily.”
“I’m just setting it there. It’s big and gets in the way.”
“I have something that’s big and gets in the way.”
She caught his waggling lift of brow, but didn’t understand. Angels. They thought they were so clever.
With a flick of Cooper’s fingers her dagger slid across the table toward him. Pyx slapped a hand over the weapon and slid it back. “Fancy party tricks are for amateurs.” He relented.
“So I understand you demons name your blades,” he prompted. “Something ominous like Angel Killer or Death Bringer. What’s yours called?”
She fingered the black steel hilt of the blade. Forged from materials unknown, the blade had been made before she had and then matched to her after she had been forged Sinistari from the earth’s metals.
“Joe,” she said, and forked in another bite of crepe.
“Joe?” The angel laughed. It was a deep, rumbly sound that made Pyx smile around a mouthful of banana. “Oh, that’s rich. I’m being pursued by the vicious demon Pixy and her faithful blade Joe.”
Pyx wielded Joe in a blink. She bent before Cooper a blink later, the blade cutting into the flesh under his chin.
“It’s Pyx,” she said sharply. “And I’ll thank you to respect my friend Joe here or he’ll get sloppy and spill angel blood on your fancy pancake.”
“You cut me, I will retaliate.”
She remained before him, testing the blade against his soft and easily damaged mortal flesh. His dark eyes challenged her to go for it. Draw the blade and spill blood. She could do it. She should do it to prove she wasn’t about to back down, no matter his disturbing charm.
The cut wouldn’t kill him; she had to pierce his heart to bring death. And the blade could not penetrate his hard glass heart unless he was shifted to half form, which usually only happened when the angel was attempting his muse.
Had she ever seen that color of blue before? It rimmed his gray eyes. When she’d been summoned she had initially only seen the world in black and white. Until she’d walked the world, taking it all in, breathing in its languages, customs and pastimes.
Wow. There was something in his eyes. A bright reflection of…a hard and ruthless warrior? Whatever it was in his eyes, it was of the angelic dominions.
He moved swiftly. The blade clattered on the hardwood floor before Pyx realized she’d dropped it. His lips connected with hers. He bracketed her head with his palms, not pressing too roughly, but keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
It was a kiss. A strange, surprising kiss. Rough and fast. But sweet from the chocolate that whispered from his mouth and into hers.
Pyx had not before been kissed. What was a kiss for? It didn’t fill the belly, or provide clothes, or gain material goods. And yet, it was definitely interesting.
And it was being issued by a Fallen one. To a Sinistari. How many ways of wrong was that?
It didn’t feel wrong. Felt kind of tingly and exciting.
Cooper swept his tongue across hers. A giddy sparkle radiated in Pyx’s belly—until he pushed her away and stepped across the room. Hand to a hip, he turned, head tilted downward, and gazed at her.
“What the hell was that for?” She swiped her mouth with the back of her hand, forcing out her most pissed tone. “That’s not how you disarm an opponent.”
“Oh, no?” He toed Joe and kicked it across the floor toward her boot. “Looks like it worked. You’ve never been kissed before?”
“I just came to earth a day ago. What do you think?”
“I think…” He stalked over on his bare feet, his movements sensual and silent like some kind of wild cat Pyx had seen stalking the Tibetan forests during her walk of the world. Tilting up her chin, he brushed the hair from her face. “That means you are a virgin. A strange situation for a Sinistari to be in when she should be indulging in lust. Want another one?”
The sparkle still hummed in her belly. “Kiss?”
He smirked. “No, a crepe.”
“Neither.” Pyx jumped to stand and, arms arched out and ready to strike, she instead looked about. Not sure what to do. How to react. Joe lay against her boot. Bending for it would put her in a position not conducive to defense.
The angel had served her a move she hadn’t expected. And she was still processing the delicious taste of him, and the startling sensation of his mouth upon hers. It was a hell of a lot better than the crepe, and she had loved the crepe.
And the smile on his face bothered her. He felt he’d gained advantage in this round. Had he?
“I gotta go.” She swept up Joe.
“Giving up before you’ve cleaned your plate?” he called as she headed down the hallway.
“Not on your life. I want to make sure the vampires aren’t hanging around outside.”
“They’re not after me.”
“They’re not after me!” she shouted.
“If that’s what you want to believe. It’s day. Vampires don’t do sunlight, do they?”
Pyx didn’t turn to look at him. She knew he brandished a triumphant smirk like some kind of scalp claimed in battle. “Read your Stoker. Most vampires can go out during the day. I’ll be back.”
“I do hope you will be.”
She stalked to the front door and strode through, leaving it open behind her.
All right, one point for the Fallen. That meant she had to regroup and figure things out. Like how to play against someone who doesn’t know the rules.
And what, exactly, would her defensive move be should he lay another of those delicious kisses on her?