Devil's Paw (Imp Book 4) (3 page)

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances with the enforcers.”

He took a few more steps toward me, the blue stuff growing thick. “No, you’re going to come with me. There’s no way off this roof but down the stairs, and I’ll be on you before you take five steps. Come quietly and I won’t have to hurt you.”

Yeah, I’d heard that one before. “I’m not coming with you.”

He shrugged, edging closer. “Suit yourself. You really don’t have any other choice.”

“There’s always another choice,” I told him as I stepped backwards off the roof.

Frederick is not a city of lofty skyscrapers. This building was one of the tallest at seven stories, which didn’t give me a lot of time between the top and the hard pavement rushing to meet me. I tucked my arms tight against my body and gained as much speed as I could, creating my wings in a flash, less than six feet from the ground. Muscles strained as I snapped the leathery wings to their full length, angled to adjust my momentum from downward to parallel with the street. Flapping furiously, I tried to regain the speed I’d lost in the transition and rise above the cars inches from my feet. People shouted and screamed. I heard the grind of metal on metal as vehicles swerved to avoid me and collided. Gregory would probably have my ass for this, but I wasn’t about to go quietly with some homicidal angel to an inevitable death.

I’d jumped off the Patrick Street side of the building — a broad one–way street with parking on either side. Trendy eateries, coffee houses, and antique shops in historic brick row houses lined the street, all heavily populated with an early lunch crowd. Plenty of people saw my suicidal jump and my transformation to a winged being. I didn’t care; I was too busy trying to gain altitude and avoid the parked cars. My wings were nearly thirty feet across and I felt them slap against the vehicle roofs as I slowly rose. I’d just made it past the library when a streak of white shot by me, barely missing one wing and turning half of a Mini Cooper to dust. The fucker was shooting at me! In a crowded downtown street!

Another blast knocked a minivan across the road, leaving a pothole the size of a sofa in the asphalt. My wings beat furiously, and I tilted to turn right on Market Street, grabbing a lamppost to slingshot myself around the corner and accelerate. Chunks of pavement filled the air behind me as another blast missed me. If I hadn’t made the corner, he would have hit, and I wasn’t sure how disabling or lethal whatever he was shooting would be. My one experience with angel energy blasts had nearly ended in my death, and I got the idea this guy wasn’t using any less power.

Weaving side to side, I avoided two more blasts and darted left, the wrong way down Church Street, past the line of law firms, financial planning offices, and houses of worship. I’d been sacrificing vertical assent for speed, and one of my wings clipped a street sign, sending it flying through the window of an upscale cosmetology school. Judging from the sounds behind me, and the pulverized bits of debris in the air, downtown Frederick probably looked like a Word War II Spitfire had unloaded its machine gun through the city.

I banked hard to the right onto Court Street then negotiated the tight turns around City Hall that brought me back around onto Church. Angels were faster, more powerful than demons, but my leathery wings were far more maneuverable. I hoped to lose him by staying downtown and weaving in and out of the streets, keeping low and using the buildings to hide as I flew.

The bell tower chimed the hour as I turned right, onto Bentz, speeding to get past the open expanse of Baker Park and through the residential section beyond the old armory. The buildings here weren’t more than two to three stories tall, and between the two parks surrounding the armory, there was plenty of open space for the angel to gain enough speed to flank me. I stayed low, turning down Third Street just as another blast streaked by. Desperate to loop around and return to the central area of downtown, I made a sharp left onto Klinehart’s Alley and immediately realized my error. The alley was too narrow for my vast wings, and, without the space to maneuver, my speed slowed. I felt the angel gaining, felt the heat of his reckless stream of lethal white energy. Frantic, I darted right through the old Carmack Jay’s parking lot and pulled on the red–purple that networked from my branding into my spirit–self to summon my angel, Gregory.

I left the parking lot as a blast seared the under–section of my wing and flew behind a tavern, weaving in and out of the backyards of residential row houses.

Now! I need you right now!
I thought as I again summoned the angel. I was panicked. This guy was closing in on me fast, and I had a feeling his offer of a “comfortable” death would no longer be on the table.

Rolling, I avoided a clothesline full of linen, then angled right, barely missing a trellis full of early rosebuds, to plow into something rock–hard. I crashed to the ground on top of the obstacle and looked right into an angel’s surprised black eyes. We skidded along the pavement, and I was briefly thankful that he’d be the one with road rash, not me. Crumpling a wing painfully, we slammed sideways into a backyard fountain, and I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me steady. Time stood still as we stared into each other’s eyes, and I felt a surge of emotion. He’d come. He’d come to rescue me. Yes, I was embarrassed that I’d needed to call him, that I was such a little cockroach that I’d needed his help, but still — he’d come.

Reaching a hand across my back, Gregory seized the waistband of my pants and flipped me up and over his head, leaping to his feet in front of me. I rolled over, dissolved my wings and got to my knees, peering between his legs to better see the expression on the angel’s face when he rounded the corner and saw my formidable protector.

Nothing.

No angel came around the corner, no blasts of white energy came around the corner: nothing came around the corner. After a few minutes, Gregory turned to face me, his eyebrows raised, a quizzical look on his face.

“So, what’s the crisis, cockroach? Do you need me to lift another sofa so you can clean under it? Is there another can of tomatoes in your cabinets that you can’t reach?”

I felt my face heat. I missed him when he wasn’t around and had taken to summoning him for all sorts of
important
household emergencies.

“It was an angel, trying to kill me.”

His eyebrows went even higher.

“Seriously, an angel was after me,” I sputtered. “Two humans accosted me in an alley, and there was a mage, then the angel came, so I set fire to an office building and had to jump off the roof. He was going to kill me.”

He eyed me. “An angel? And a mage? What next, little cockroach? Have Martians invaded the planet? Are they trying to kill you too, or just shove an uncomfortably long, exploratory probe up your backside?”

I winced, regretting I’d ever told him that story. He hadn’t believed that one either, but it had bought me a whole evening of his time watching
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
and
Men in Black.

“I swear to you on all the souls I Own that there was an angel and a mage.”

Gregory sighed. “Fine. Describe them.”

“Well, the angel was either an effeminate guy, or a butch girl with blondish hair and pale skin.” Not the best description, but many angels are difficult to tell apart appearance–wise. “The mage looked like Mr. Clean. He was super buff with a bald head and bushy, white eyebrows. He wasn’t wearing a robe. He had on a black t–shirt and dark jeans. There was a gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand. It looked like a signet ring — onyx with an inscribed X and inverted triangle. It was magic.”

Gregory slowly shook his head and I got the feeling that any credibility I’d earned had slipped away. “You killed another human just now. That’s four since you’ve been the Iblis. Is this wild tale your way to get out of the reports, to shirk responsibility for the deaths? A fabricated story of a mage and an angel after you?”

“No! I’d ditched the mage, but the angel was going to kill me — to haul me off somewhere and make me comfortable for a couple of weeks while he slowly killed me. I’m not lying; I swear.”

Black eyes searched my brown ones. “Everyone knows you are off limits. Plenty of my Grigori are anxious to see you dead, but they’d never go against my direct order and take matters into their own hands.”

“He didn’t seem to know I was the Iblis. I don’t think he was one of your angels.”

The angel hadn’t been one of the Ruling Council either. I would have recognized his energy signature, even if I hadn’t recognized his corporeal form. The only other angel I’d met was Althean last August, and he’d been reduced to a pile of sand.

Gregory frowned. “No angel would take it upon himself to randomly hunt demons as a vigilante. Perhaps it was another demon? Someone you’ve angered back in Hel that managed to assume a somewhat convincing angelic form?”

My shoulders slumped. It wasn’t a demon: it was an angel. Feathery wings, white destructive energy, the ability to inhibit my own energy use with just a touch — an angel. I could see an angel coming after me as the Iblis, trying to take me out and cut the demons out of all Ruling Council decision–making. Maybe he had known I was the Iblis and just didn’t care. Maybe one of Gregory’s team decided to take matters into their own hands and end the life of a despised demon. Looking at the angel before me, over six feet tall with a powerful build and a forbidding countenance, I doubted it. He radiated vast power, and his age backed it up with knowledge and skill that few angels would challenge.

“One of the Ruling Council’s households perhaps?” I suggested. “That Dopey guy hates me, maybe he sent one of his household to take me out?”

I knew as soon as I said it that I was wrong. As much as that angel hated me, I got the impression he wouldn’t sully his hands to be involved in my murder. Plus, I really had a strong feeling this guy hadn’t known I was the Iblis, hadn’t known who I was beyond an Imp on the wrong side of the gates to Hel.

“Choir, not household,” Gregory corrected. “And who is Dopey?”

“Gabriel. The one I hit in the face with a pastry at the last meeting.”

Gregory’s eyes lit with amusement, his lip twitching up. “I very much doubt that, little cockroach.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, then. I swear, though, an angel was after me. He shot a trench down Market Street and blew up a few cars.”

The angel considered my words then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go see.”

I led the way back to Market Street and up the three blocks to where I’d been flying for my life. Nothing. The roads were smooth, the cars intact and all in place. We continued down Patrick Street, past the library and the office building to the alley. Drug dealer guy still sprawled on the pavement, blood everywhere.

“This would be the human you killed?”

Of course it was. He knew; he could tell. I blew out a breath in exasperation. “I know this looks bad. You don’t believe me, do you?”

I turned to face him, and once again his eyes searched mine. “A story of how an angel and a mage were after you? I’m sorry, cockroach, but I just can’t fathom how that could be.”

I looked around at the dank alleyway, the body, the fire door off its hinges. I hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t been hallucinating. An angel had tried to kill me. But he’d quickly backed off and covered his tracks once Gregory had appeared. He probably assumed I was dead by Gregory’s hands. Regardless of why he’d been after me, what he’d intended to do with me, I could rest easy at this point. I was safe. This whole thing had to have been a fluke. That angel wouldn’t be after me again.

~3~

M
al, it’s about time you got home.”

Dar stood in my living room. My foster brother was in his favored form, a middle–aged man, stocky build with black hair, silvered at the temples. At his side stood a young, thin, blond woman with her eyes downcast. She trembled, her hands white–knuckled and fisted at her waist.

“You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow,” I replied. Yes, I’d been delayed getting back from my rent collection, but Dar’s early arrival was unexpected. He was bringing Wyatt’s birthday present, and the party wasn’t until tomorrow night.

“Yes, well, smuggling a human through a gate wasn’t exactly easy. I took my best shot and went for it. How about a little gratitude here?”

Dar always came through, and he did deserve some appreciation. “Fuck off, asshole. Please tell me you didn’t molest her on the way over.”

He grinned, puffing out his chest. “I restrained myself. Wasn’t easy keeping the others from her, though.”

Yeah, I could imagine. Demons loved playing with humans. Unfortunately, playthings didn’t last long when subjected to our enthusiastic attentions. I looked at the blond woman, checking her visually for any damage. Beyond her obvious terror, she seemed to be in good physical shape. Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been subjected to mental or emotional abuse.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I asked her softly. “Can I get you a drink, or something to eat?”

Her head jerked up, and I found myself staring into vivid blue eyes in a pale, drawn face. Her gaze registered a shock of recognition before a sort of wary fear edged back in.

“I am fine, thank you.” The words came out dry and hoarse, as though she hadn’t had a drink in days. I glared at Dar.

“I swear, Mal, no one harmed her in any way. I know how weird you are about humans and their feelings. I ensured everyone kept their distance.”

I rubbed my forehead, thinking how I should handle this early arrival. I’d planned to have her here for Wyatt’s party. Maybe have her jump out of a cake or something with a big “Happy Birthday! Love, Sam” sign glued to her chest. I had no idea where I could hide her. Decades ago I would have just stuck her in the basement, bound and gagged so she wouldn’t make any noise. I knew better now. Humans don’t particularly like that sort of thing, and this girl was already terrified. I doubted being hog–tied in a basement would do her mental state any good, and it would really suck if Wyatt’s gift was in the middle of a panic attack when I presented her.