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Authors: Cynthia Eden

Avenging Angel (7 page)

BOOK: Avenging Angel
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The voice was quiet tonight. The drugs were still in her system. The drugs muted all the voices that wanted to whisper to her about the wicked things in the world.
I’m wicked.
She’d gotten the drugs from the alley. Seen the death that waited for those two panther shifters.
I saw what you did.
She’d never be able to forget that night.
Now it was time to collect and get out of there. The shifter and his angel should have made it around to the back of Hell by now. She could slip out, make her deal, and get away.
Cadence dropped the bottle. It spilled on the floor, a long, wet stain, and the rat scurried toward it. Cadence grabbed her bag. There’d be no missing this shithole for her.
She yanked open the back door. Slipped out into the night. The air was hot. Always was, down in this freaking pit. Maybe she’d go someplace up north. Someplace where it actually snowed. She’d never seen real snow. Wouldn’t that be a kick?
Careful . . .
That whisper came from her own mind. The voice was waking up. Dammit. No. Not now.
Cadence shoved her hand into her bag. She had a few more white pills left. They’d shut up the voice. Buy her more time.
Blood.
That horrible whisper again.
She couldn’t find the damn pills.
Blood on the dirty bricks. Blood on the ground. Can’t scream. Can’t—
Her fingers closed around one small pill. She shoved it in her mouth and swallowed. Her hands were shaking, but that wasn’t new. When the voice screamed so loud in her mind—or even when it whispered—her hands trembled.
But the pill was in her body now. Her heart rate began to slow. The drug always worked fast. After a moment, the voice fell silent.
It was just her now. Alone in the night.
Cadence sucked in a few quick breaths. Where was the shifter? He’d better show up and get ready to hand over some serious cash. ’Cause if he wanted to hear all the juicy bits that she had to share, he’d need to—
“Hello, Cadence.”
She stiffened. Impossible. That voice—it belonged to a dead man. She knew. She’d put Bill in the ground herself. Dug the grave and dumped his sorry ass inside and left him in the middle of the woods.
“Why don’t you come here . . . ” Bill’s voice said from the darkness, “and give me a kiss, baby girl?”
Her blood iced. That
was
Bill’s voice. When she turned, she saw him walking from the shadows. Bill. With his balding head, his tattoos, and the slightly crooked smile that had disarmed her from the first moment she met him.
I didn’t see the monster.
That smile had blinded her.
Bill had been human. She’d thought that meant he was safe. Too late, she’d learned how vicious humans could be.
Bill stalked toward her. Cadence didn’t move. She
couldn’t
move. “B-Bill?” What the hell? Had he turned vamp on her? That was the only thing that made sense. He must’ve been a vamp before she buried him. Tricky asshole. And here she’d been feeling all guilty for murdering the guy.
His arms grabbed her and pulled her tight against him. “I’ve missed you,” he said. His hands
hurt.
That was nothing new. His hammy hands always liked to hurt her.
She hadn’t missed him.
Then she realized that he didn’t smell the same. Not like stale cigarettes and old beer. Not even that musky scent human males always seemed to carry.
She pushed away and stared up at him as terror clawed its way through her.
Run.
The voice in her head was back. Too late.
She didn’t see the knife, not at first. But Cadence felt the blade as it sliced through her skin. Sliced so deep that it stole her breath as it cut open her throat.
Blood flew around her, splattering onto the old bricks. Onto the dirt. She tried to scream, but couldn’t.
Her voice was gone.
Cadence’s body fell to the ground. She was on her stomach, trying to crawl with her last bit of strength.
“Fucking bitch. You aren’t telling anybody about me.”
Then the knife plunged into her back.
Can’t scream.
There’d be no time to make amends. Cadence felt death coming for her.
No time—
C
HAPTER
F
OUR
T
he scent of fresh blood hit him like a punch to the gut when Tanner shoved open the back door of Hell. The beast inside growled in pleasure.
The panther he carried always liked the blood too much.
“Tanner? What’s wrong?”
He’d shoved up his arm and blocked Marna’s path. He just hadn’t wanted her racing into a bloodbath. But she seemed oblivious. How could she miss that scent?
“Stay inside,” he told her, pushing her back. He wanted to make sure she was safe while he faced whatever nightmare might be waiting out there.
But she shook her head. “Stay in there with the vamps? I don’t think so.”
She didn’t realize that those bastards could be the least of her troubles. It was just—shit, there
wasn’t
any safe place for her.
“Death angel, remember?” she whispered to him.
How could he forget? Marna just looked so fragile, he kept wanting to protect her. When she was probably strong enough to be protecting him.
He let his claws break from his fingertips. Tanner knew that he should always go into a battle with the best possible weapon—and his claws had never let him down before.
He didn’t hear anyone else out there. He just smelled blood. Garbage. Stale cigarettes.
Flowers?
What the fuck?
The faint scent wasn’t coming from Marna—but from the right. In the shadows.
Tanner edged closer, with Marna on his heels. A few more feet, a turn to the right—
A horrified gasp slipped from Marna. Tanner’s jaw locked.
It looked like the bartender wasn’t gonna be giving them any info. It looked like she wasn’t gonna be doing anything, ever again.
The redhead lay face down on the ground, and with his enhanced vision, Tanner could easily see through the darkness—and see the puddle of blood that surrounded her.
Tanner advanced carefully. His gaze swept the alley. No sign of anyone else, but . . .
Marna rushed by him. She knelt next to the bartender, reaching out to touch her.
“Don’t!” Tanner snapped.
Marna glanced back up at him, her eyes huge as her hand hovered in the air above the redhead. “She’s still alive.”
Knife wounds covered the redhead’s back and when he crouched next to her, joining Marna, Tanner winced at the sight of the bartender’s gaping throat. Her head was turned to the side, giving him a perfect view of that brutal damage. A desperate rasp escaped from her chest as she fought to breathe.
How the hell was the lady still clinging to life?
The finger of her right hand was trembling. Shaking so hard. And she was dipping it into her own blood. Dipping it and—
Writing?
Tanner stared at the splotches she’d made on the broken cement. He could see an A, an N. Was that C or G?
Angel.
She began to convulse.
“Someone’s coming for her,” Marna said, voice sad. She stroked back the bartender’s hair. “It’s okay,” she told the other woman. “An angel is almost—”
A woman shouldn’t die with that much terror in her eyes. Tanner reached for the bartender, ignored the blood and the growing scent of flowers in the air.
Flowers and fucking angels. You could always smell ’em.
No wonder he’d caught that scent mixed with the blood. An angel of death was coming to take the redhead away.
And she didn’t want to go. “Go inside!” Tanner snapped out to Marna as he tried to put pressure on the woman’s wounds.
So many wounds. Too many.
“Get an ambulance out here! Tell them we need help!”
“Tanner, you know it’s—”
Too late.
He turned his head. Met Marna’s eyes. Saw the glimmer of tears that she couldn’t hide. “She’s not dead yet, so it’s not too late.” He’d fought death before.
Fought, lost.
But still
fought.
Marna scrambled to her feet and rushed back inside.
That floral scent deepened. The angel was coming, but now, hell, at least he’d gotten Marna away from the scene.
I don’t want the angel near her.
A tear leaked from the redhead’s eye. “You just have to hold on,” he told her. “Just fight a little longer and—”
Her gaze slid to the left. Widened.
Tanner followed her gaze. While he saw nothing, Tanner felt the distinct chill in the air. They weren’t alone.
He couldn’t see the angel of death walking in that alley, but
she
could, and the redhead was terrified.
Her hands dug into him as she tried to speak. But with most of her throat gone, there was no way he could understand the grunts and gurgles she made.
More tears fell. Her nails scratched into his skin.
“Stay away from her!” Tanner yelled at the darkness.
Her body was so cold. There was so much blood. Who’d done this to her? Why?
Because of what she knew? What she’d been minutes away from telling them?
Tanner felt the whisper of wind against his skin, and then—
Then she stopped groaning. Stopped crying. Stopped living.
The angel of death had taken her away.
Sonofabitch
.
 
Marna rushed back through the bar. She’d grabbed a waitress and snatched her cell phone to make the nine-one-one call. Telling the dispatcher to come to Hell? Yeah, that had gone over real well. She’d wasted moments arguing with the dispatcher and trying to get her to understand that this wasn’t some prank.
A woman was dying.
Marna threw open the door to the back room, hurried forward, and—
Not alone.
“Why would an angel of death . . .” The voice—that freaking voice that she knew belonged to the blond vampire who’d wanted to drink her before—rose from the shadows as he stepped into the light. “Why would someone like you smell so strongly of fear?”
He glided forward in a movement that was way too fast, putting him between her and that back door.
“You need to get out of my way,” she told him, heart pounding fast from her frantic race through Hell and from her growing fear. “Someone’s dying out there.”
“Someone’s already dead out there.” He inhaled. “That much blood . . . not even a demon like Cadence could survive an attack like that.”
Cadence? Had that been the woman’s name? And he already knew that she was dead? But—
In a blink, he was in front of her. Smiling. Flashing those sharp fangs. “Why would you smell like such sweet fear?” he asked again, eyes narrowing. “Unless you had a reason to be afraid.” His hand lifted toward her neck. “Do you have a reason, angel?”
“I-I don’t want to hurt you.”
He laughed darkly at that. “I don’t think you can.” His tongue slid over the edge of one fang. “If you could, your heart wouldn’t be racing so fast right now.”
Over the centuries, she’d seen firsthand just what sort of violence vampires could unleash. She’d seen the empty shells left of angels—shells discarded after vampires had drained them dry.
Not me.
She shoved out at him as hard as she could. The vamp flew through the air and slammed into the back door. Marna scrambled a few steps away, and her fingers curled around a knife that had been tossed to the floor. She put her hand behind her back, hiding the weapon.
But then he rose too quickly, pretended to brush himself off, and he said, “Interesting. You’re stronger than you look.” One blond brow rose. “But is that all you’ve got?”
No, she had a knife she could drive into his heart.
A knife won’t keep a vamp down.
“I—”
His hand was around her throat.
Moved too fast.
He’d leapt toward her and attacked in an instant. “I thought your kind killed when you touched.” There was no missing the anger in his voice. “That’s what you were supposed to do.”
Wait, had this guy
wanted
her to kill him?
Wood shattered as the back door was smashed in. “And you were supposed to stay the
fuck
away from her.”
Tanner.
She’d never been so glad to see her panther shifter.
The vampire didn’t look away from her. Um, shouldn’t he be turning to face the new threat? But he just leaned in closer to her. “I know,” he whispered to her. “If you aren’t careful, they’ll
all
know.”
Tanner yanked him away from Marna and raised his claws. “I
warned
you.”
The vamp just laughed. “Go ahead. Cut off my head, but then you’ll never know who’s after your little angel.”
“Maybe I won’t start by cutting off your head.” Tanner flashed his own growing fangs as he lifted his claws. “Maybe I’ll have some fun and I’ll make you beg to tell me all you know,
before
I cut off your head.”
Still no fear from the vamp. “Now is that any way for a cop to act?”
Tanner pushed him against the nearest wall and drove his claws into the guy’s shoulder. Marna flinched and glanced away—and she hid her knife.
“Why does the sight of your claws . . . ” the vampire asked, voice sly, “make her go so pale?”
Marna looked back at them.
Tanner stiffened and glanced her way. “I—”
The vampire slammed his head into Tanner’s, and a powerful punch from the blond had Tanner stumbling back.
“I’ll tell you what I know. Tell you every little thing.” The vampire’s eyes were black now. She knew a vamp’s eyes turned to black when they were either having sex or—or—
Killing.
“I’ll tell you,” the vampire promised, “but there’ll be a price for that information.”
Tanner put his body in front of hers. “Isn’t there always?”
A hard laugh from the vamp. Then he said, “She bleeds for me, and I’ll talk.”
“
Not
gonna happen.” This time, Tanner was the one to drive a punch, one that rammed into the vampire’s chest. Marna heard the sickening crunch of bones.
The vamp spat out blood. “Kane. I’m Riley Kane. When you’re ready to deal . . .” His eyes found Marna’s over Tanner’s shoulder. “You come back here, and you ask for me.”
Voices rose. Shouts came from out in the bar.
The vamp shook his head and spared her another fast glance. “You called humans . . . to come and help in Hell? How do you really think this will go down?”
Sirens screamed.
Tanner swore.
What? Why was he swearing then?
He’d been the one to
tell
her to get help.
“Better run, cop.” Now the vamp was warning them. “Even humans can smell blood in the air.” Then Kane whirled and leapt through the shattered remains of the door.
Marna turned back toward the shouts. She had to find a way to help the humans. With all those supernaturals in there, it would be a nightmare for them.
A nightmare that they never expected to see.
“Don’t.” Tanner caught her arm and pulled her back toward the broken door—and the waiting night. “This place is enchanted. The humans won’t get inside the bar. The spell keeps them out.”
“But . . . the screams . . .”
“There’s always screaming in Hell.” They were outside now and moving so fast that Marna had to run to keep up with him. “And the EMTs who are on night-shift duty, trust me, baby, they understand more than you think. Half of them
are
paranormals. They’ll find the body, and the right people will know how to handle her.” His eyes glittered in the darkness. “I’m not the only paranormal on the force. Not even close.”
They’d circled back to the parking lot just a few blocks away. They jumped in his vehicle and raced from the scene, even as the ambulance roared toward Hell.
They passed the ambulance, and the glowing circle of lights lit up Tanner’s SUV.
Then . . .
Silence.
The miles flew past. Marna’s heart began to slow to a normal rate, but when she looked down, she realized she had blood on her hands. She swallowed and fisted her fingers. “I-I wish we could have saved her.”
Tanner didn’t speak.
“It was all for nothing.” Anger burned in her. Anger, fear, guilt—why couldn’t she have done
something?
For so long, she’d been the one to greet humans and supernaturals at their moment of passing. She’d never been able to help any of those souls. Her job had been to kill. To take them from this world.
Why couldn’t she just save
one
person?
“It wasn’t for nothing.” Cold. Hard.
Marna peered his way.
“She died right before she could talk to us, and believe me, coincidences like that don’t happen.”
“But—”
“She died, and she was
terrified
of the angel who came for her.” He spared her a fast glance. “What does that tell you?”
She licked her lips. “Everyone . . . I mean, most are scared when they see the angels coming for them.” Because humans and those without the blood of celestial beings in them could never see angels, at least not until the moment right before their passing. And who wouldn’t be scared then?
“Maybe . . . or maybe she was so scared because she knew what her
killer
was.”
Her breath caught, but Marna shook her head. “No, an angel of death wouldn’t kill that way.” The attack had been too violent. Too . . . bloody. “All death angels have to do is touch. There’s no reason to attack like that unless—”
“Unless you like the feel of slicing into someone’s flesh. Unless you want to torture and punish until your victim is left twitching on the ground.”
Like the bartender.
“Unless you’re one fucked-up angel, and if that’s the case, if there’s another Fallen in the city, one who’s slicing and killing for fun, then, well . . .”
BOOK: Avenging Angel
8.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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