“Don’t you dare die, Ember Riddick.”

“Kay,” she murmured, feeling her world tip and begin to go black again. “Raum?”

“What?”

“Are you my guardian angel?” she asked, and smiled at his snort, which was as much of an answer as anything.

“No,” he finally said.

She dug her fingers more tightly into his shirt, and only fleetingly wondered whether her claws had retracted. Either way, he didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. And it no longer mattered, because she was falling, falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, into a darkness that even she couldn’t see through.

“Save me anyway?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Then she was gone.

About the Author

KENDRA LEIGH CASTLE was born and raised in the far and frozen reaches of Northern New York, where there was plenty of time to cultivate her love of reading thanks to the six-month-long winters. Sneaking off with selections from her mother’s vast collection of romance novels came naturally and fairly early, and a lifelong love of the Happily Ever After was born. Her continuing love of heroes who sprout fangs, fur, and/or wings, however, is something no one in her family has yet been able to explain.

After graduating from SUNY Oswego (where it also snowed a lot) with a teaching degree that she did actually plan on using at the time, Kendra ran off with a handsome young Navy fighter pilot. She’s still not exactly sure how, but they’ve managed to accumulate three children, two high-maintenance dogs, and one enormous cat during their many moves. She’s very happy to be able to work in her pajamas, curled up with her laptop and endless cups of coffee, and her enduring love of all things both spooky and steamy means she’s always got another paranormal romance in the works. Kendra currently resides wherever the Navy thinks she ought to, which is Maryland at present. She also has a home on the web at www.kendraleighcastle.com, and loves to hear from her readers. Please stop by and say hello!

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Renegade Angel. I’m very excited to be sharing this, my very first Nocturne™, with you!

I’ve always loved the idea of angels, especially the ornery, sword-carrying kind. This is probably partially because I was once a Catholic schoolgirl with a very active imagination, and partially because my own life has been full of wonderful, unconventional, and yes, even ornery angels. So it’s small wonder that I’d eventually want to write a story featuring a hero with a sword, wings… and a less than angelic disposition. Raum, an ex-angel, is also on the run from Hell, making him for all intents and purposes an ex-demon as well. So where does an ornery supernatural being with wings fit in when he’s caught between angels who’ve hired him to do their dirty work and demons who’ll stop at nothing to see him reduced to soulless cinder?

You, and a woman named Ember Riddick who has quite a few problems of her own, are about to find out. I hope you enjoy watching Raum and Ember find their places in this world … and of course, in one another’s arms … as much as I enjoyed writing their journey.

Happy reading!

Kendra

Renegade
Angel
Kendra Leigh Castle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This one’s for my Angels of Sanity—

Marie and Cheryl, for the sisterhood

Donna, Lisa, Ana, Elizabeth, aka “Ms Moonlight”, Jessica, and Leslie, for all the support, cheerleading, and incredible humor, not to mention the fascinating things that continue to turn up in my inbox on a regular basis … couldn’t have written this one without you!

And as always, my wonderful family. Thank you for continuing to live with, and love, my own special brand of crazy

Prologue

He left at twilight, moving swift and silent beneath a deepening blood-red sky. Beyond the gleaming walls of the Infernal City, across the cracked and barren wasteland that rang day and night with the cries of the damned, the crow soared on sooty wings toward the gnarled shapes jutting into the acrid air just beyond.

The Gate of Souls. Freedom.

That was, if they managed to make it out.

Raum coasted on the hot currents of a smoke-filled breeze, trying to concentrate on the final barrier of the mountains as he was borne ever closer to his destination. Beneath him, small fires dotted the barren desert landscape. A quick glance, and Raum could see the lurching figures of the legions of lesser demons, the nefari, who had served his kind in battle since the original Fall.

Disgusting creatures, Raum thought, jerking his gaze away from the hunched and muscular beings, red-skinned with curved horns sprouting from their foreheads, gamboling around the flames. As an earl of Hell, he had twenty legions of his own to command. But even after thousands of years in the Infernal City, Raum had never really developed much of an appreciation for the ill-tempered, dimwitted foot soldiers of the damned.

If he looked hard enough, Raum knew he’d be able to make out other, smaller figures writhing in torment on the ground around the demons plying their trade out here in the wastes. Of course, that might have indicated he had an interest in the bunch of primates, thrown together with a handful of clay and some divine spit, who kept Hell in business.

And he was going to be in close contact with those useless creatures soon enough.

If only there were another way. But there wasn’t. Raum flapped his wings once, twice, picking up speed, anxious to have the final betrayal done with. When you were a fallen angel who had been marked for death by the Infernal Council, your options became very limited. He had already walked away from Heaven, anxious to help create a paradise that had nothing to do with serving the hated humans. Even after all this time, he couldn’t understand what about humanity, so inferior in every way, had merited the reward of an eternal soul. It had been the final straw, a slight he could not ignore.

But in walking away from Heaven, he’d had another option. This time, Raum still wasn’t clear on what, or where, he was running to. Only that, if he wanted to sur vive, he must help save the humans from the rapidly encroaching darkness: a darkness he had helped create, and which now threatened to swallow him whole unless he did the unthinkable.

Curse you, Mammon, he thought. Not that such thoughts had ever done him any good.

The betrayal shouldn’t have surprised him. Mammon wasn’t the Prince of Avarice for nothing. Eternally jealous, eternally greedy, Mammon had long been tired of always being in Raum’s shadow. Raum had simply found the other demon’s constant efforts to outdo him amusing, or mildly irritating, when he’d even bothered to notice. After all, his own prowess at theft, deception and destruction had made him a legend. Mammon’s singular talent for sucking up had gotten the demon lord a seat on the ruling Infernal Council and ready access to Lucifer’s ear.

To each his own, Raum had always thought, and paid little attention. Until recently, that was, when some of his brethren, tired of Mammon’s utter uselessness and lack of leadership, had begun encouraging Raum to make a challenge. And he, Raum thought darkly, fool that he was, had begun to consider emerging from centuries of relative seclusion to do it. Then the serpent king had arrived on his doorstep just a few nights past, bearing the news that he, Raum, would soon be charged and executed as a traitor, accused of willfully undermining Hell’s cause by his obvious and egregious lack of sup port.

He would have been destroyed for nothing more than his own indifference to the games of the Council and life at Court, his own solitary nature all the evidence Lucifer needed to finally succumb to the venom Mammon had spewed for years. Raum had to give Mammon some small amount of credit: though he himself had never spoken publicly of his intention to challenge for Mammon’s position on the Council, his old rival knew a threat to his position when he saw it.

So now here he was, forced to choose between the eternal darkness of a demon’s death, or living by doing things he would once have considered even worse than such a death.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The sky began to darken as he approached the far edge of the underworld, and Raum’s heartbeat accelerated no matter how hard he tried to force calm. Condemned or no, the finality of his decision had only just begun to penetrate.

He could sense Leviathan as he drew near the mountains, and the gate beyond. Leviathan, and the five others who would be accompanying them, now traitors below just as they had been above. Raum didn’t know all of their stories, nor did he care. All that mattered was that they were united in their refusal to die quietly. He could feel his brothers’ power drifting upward like hot sparks carried on a desert breeze, surrounding an unmistakable shard of deathly cold that cut like a knife through the heat.

Leviathan. Only a fool would have felt safe under the gaze of those unusual, oceanic eyes. Raum was no fool. He wondered if he would ever understand what had driven the serpent king to this, leading a ragtag collection of marked nobles out of Hell and into the employ of the white-winged control freaks they’d all spent so long either fighting, infuriating or avoiding. What did Leviathan care if the balance between good and evil on Earth was tipping into darkness? And even more confounding to Raum was the question of how Lucifer’s prized pet had known that the highest ranks of angels, the seraphim, would be desperate enough to want the help of a bunch of Hellish exiles in righting the Balance.

Of course, if he hadn’t been so desperate himself, he wouldn’t have touched this with a ten-foot pole, and he was in no position to be asking questions. The pay was good. The prospect of continuing to exist was even better. And dirty work was, after all, his specialty, no matter who he was doing it for. He was Raum, Destroyer of Dignities and Robber of Kings.

At least, he had been. Now, he was no longer sure what he was. But with luck, he would have more time to figure it out.

The mountains rising ahead were stunted, blackened things, the grotesque monotony of the ring they created around the kingdom broken only by the places where the five rivers sliced through on their way to the endless Stygian sea. Raum soared higher, clearing the peaks with rapid, graceful movements, and then dipped to descend into the roiling black mists that eternally blanketed the Borderlands, and the Gate of Souls.

Anticipation rushed through Raum’s blood. He was about to have a purpose again. And for the first time, it appeared that his former brethren needed him. It was incredibly satisfying … perplexing, weird and almost deviant, but satisfying.

The Infernal Council was right about one thing: he’d never given a damn for them. They’d now given him the perfect excuse to be an eternal thorn in their sides. Raum looked forward to it … and to the day when he could confront the Prince of Avarice on his own terms, when there would be no one for the insidious coward to hide behind. If that day came, that was. If he saw tomorrow.

But no matter what, it was time to find out. Raum took a deep breath of the sulfur-tinged air, and dived into the eternal night surrounding the gates of Hell.

Chapter 1

Johnstown, Vermont

Six months later

If darkness had a voice, Ember Riddick thought, his would be it.

“Excuse me, miss … I was told that if I wanted cologne, you were the woman to see?”

Her hand stilled in midair. She’d been diligently restocking essential oils—and truth be told, zoning out—and her back was to whoever had just blown in with the crisp fall air. The owner of that dark, delicious, decadent voice.

Her stomach sank as awareness prickled over her skin, responding to the new electricity in the air that she’d sensed the moment the little silver bell had rung above the door.

Had to be today, she thought. In the year since she’d come to this quaint, upscale little town in Vermont, there had been no slipups, no accidents. She’d made sure of it, even when her nerves felt worn nearly to their breaking point. Like today. Ember closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to concentrate on the soothing scents of vanilla and lavender rising from the candles she’d lit.

Didn’t work. Then she laid eyes on him.

Hell.

She would have run, if she could have moved.

“You were told right,” she heard Ginni say, her voice taking on the honeyed tones it only did when she was in the presence of someone interesting of the male per suasion. “What exactly were you looking for?”

“I’m looking for something … unusual,” the stranger replied, his deep and smoky voice sending a delicious shiver from the top of Ember’s head to the very tips of her toes. Ginni’s answering giggle, on the other hand, had her curling her lip, though she fought it. To push it back, she had no choice but to refocus on him.

The pagan god of Lust, come to finish her off completely.

Ember shivered again, and not from the chill air that had wafted in from the open door. Her eyes roamed over a man who should, by rights, be way too beautiful to exist in real life. He was dark as sin itself, with curly raven hair worn long enough for it to coil loosely around his face. His features, in profile, were sharp, almost hawkish, though they were softened just a little by a full, expressive mouth that still looked disinclined to smile. He wore only black, she noticed: jeans, boots, T-shirt, leather jacket.

A bad boy. He would have to be, Ember thought ruefully. And the severe color showcased his vampiric beauty perfectly.

Her nails began to bite into her palms, and she realized she’d clenched her fists. She also realized that those nails had suddenly become awfully sharp. Ember forced them open, alarm rising almost as quickly as the strange fire in her blood. Sure enough, there were angry red crescents where her nails had been, though even as she watched, they began to disappear.

If normal men healed as quickly, her life would have been a whole lot less lonely.

“You’re Ember Riddick, then? The owner?” the stranger asked, his gaze still fixed on Ginni, who looked pretty close to overheating herself. Though Ember kind of doubted her employee would sprout fangs and claws no matter how lust-fuzzed her brain got.

Unlike some people.

The sound of her name on his lips had her licking her own. Ember found herself stepping forward before she could think too hard about what she was doing. Then he turned to look at her, and she had no choice but to follow through with what was no doubt one of her patented Extremely Bad Ideas. She was normal, she told herself. I can do this. It echoed in her head, her mantra.

I’m normal. Normal, normal, normal …

This was her place now, and her shop, damn it. She might be weird, possibly even possessed, but she could keep her tongue in her mouth and off the floor long enough to make a sale.

“Actually, I’m Ember,” she said, trying to ignore the way Ginni still stared at him, her eyes slightly glazed. And there was nothing normal about the possessive snarl that welled in her throat, designed to drive away any fe male stupid enough to think of competing. Defiantly, she forced a smile, and hoped it didn’t just look as if she was baring her teeth.

“Welcome to Lotions and Potions. What can I help you with?”

She’d wanted his attention, and now she had it. The most unusual and beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen locked with hers. They were a pale green, like sea glass, a stunning contrast against his black hair. And though Ember knew it was just a trick of all the inner circuits he was busy frying, she’d swear those eyes began to glow a little, the light in them intensifying as he looked at her.

“You’re Ember Riddick?” he asked, and the thorough appraisal he gave her was anything but shy. Wicked delight surged through her, even as all of her warning bells began to go off inside. It occurred to her that she was, in all likelihood, the only woman on Earth who would be conflicted about flirting with Mr. Tall, Dark and Smoking Hot.

Usually the thick—and unnecessary—glasses and severe ponytail were enough to prevent her from getting a second look. Unobtrusive, she’d decided since her arrival here, was key. This guy, however, seemed unsettlingly oblivious to the superficial defenses she’d thrown up. He could really see her, Ember was suddenly certain. It was nice to let herself be admired again, she had to admit. As long as that was as far as it went. But the longer he stayed here, the less certain that got.

She forced herself to form words, halting though they were. She was at least pretty sure they made sense, which was good. And they weren’t “Hi, I want you,” which was even better.

“I am. And you are?” She held out her hand out of habit, and regretted it instantly when he took it, enveloping her small hand in his impossibly large one. It was a casual gesture, but Ember sucked in a breath at that first bit of contact. The smooth, silken skin of his palm was warm, almost hot, and that intangible sense of power that seemed to surround him flooded her instantly.

She would have thought it odd that he dropped her hand so quickly, as if she’d burned him, except that Ember was sure her facade of control was slipping. God knew what her eyes must look like …. Ember looked away quickly, grateful that at least the blood roaring in her ears had quieted the instant his hand left hers.

“Raum. I’m Raum,” he said in that delicious voice, like chocolate for the ears. He sounded as puzzled as she felt. It wasn’t like her to react so strongly, not this fast, anyway. He was no doubt just wondering what sort of drugs she was on. It was only the last shreds of her pride that had her lifting her chin and pressing on.

“Raum … “ She trailed off, waiting for him to offer a last name, wondering if it would be as strange as the first. When he only looked back silently, however, Ember decided to let it drop. The sooner she got through this and sent him on his way, the better. And if he really did go by only one name, then he was probably a complete weirdo, which made getting him out of here an even better idea.

“Raum, hi. We, um … we have lots of unusual things here. What were you looking for specifically? Cologne for yourself? Perfume for your … your girlfriend, maybe?” God, she hoped she’d said that last part without gagging too much on the word. Or growling. That would send things from bad to worse in a hurry.

Fortunately, her question seemed to have been the right one. At least it got him to reply.

“I’d like to buy … “ He looked around, frowning, as though not quite sure of where he was. “For myself. Cologne would be fine.”

“Raum, I doubt there’s anything on earth that would get your natural stench out. Still, it can’t hurt to try. What do you think, beautiful? Up to the task?” It was only then, at the sound of another throaty, musical voice, that Ember finally noticed he hadn’t come in alone. For the second time in minutes, she was stopped in her tracks. At least this time she managed to keep her chin off the floor.

A quick glance told her that for Ginni, not so much.

Good God, could the invasion of Mount Olympus have come at a worse time? This one was a blond, with a face that could have been carved by Michelangelo and eyes such a vibrant green, not sea glass but more like emeralds, that Ember had to assume they were contacts. And when his eyes dropped to give her an appreciative once-over, it was either look away or make an utter fool of herself.

These men, the devil and the angel both, were sex incarnate.

And she was in big, big trouble.

“I’m sure we have something that will work for you,” she said, deliberately ignoring the sarcastic blond, who had a nasty edge to his voice she didn’t much care for despite his beauty. She headed for the shelves of essences, but not before she caught Raum’s eyes again for a moment. Ember averted her gaze quickly, but it was too late. Those eyes, so intense, sent another blast of heat through her that then coiled and spiraled outward, until she was suffused with it. Ember could already feel her walk changing, becoming sinuous, suggestive, knew that the alluring scent she wore was intensifying as her body chemistry changed. Deep inside, the saner half of her moaned in despair and covered her eyes.

And the part of her that had finally slipped all the way out of its well-locked cage did exactly what it always did: prepared to get in trouble. Ember wanted to lock it down again … really, she did. But it got so hard to behave when there was so much power always fighting to get out. And she felt so good … .

“Here,” she purred, her voice going low and throaty. Ember plucked a fragrance blend from the shelves as she approached, her lips curving in an inviting smile. There was no apprehension now, no fear of what was coming. That was always the good thing about giving in. The bad things, unfortunately, always seemed to outnumber that one considerably.

Ember only stopped moving when she was inches from Raum, never looking away as she unscrewed the small black cap from the bottle.

“I think I have just the thing. Try this,” she coaxed, moving in even closer, her body almost touching his. She lifted the delicate amber bottle to just beneath the beautiful stranger’s nose. “I think this would suit you perfectly.”

He inhaled gently, and as Ember had hoped, heat flashed in his luminescent gaze. Good. That was good, to be wanted.

No, it’s bad. And I have serious impulse-control prob lems. And claws. And fangs …

“Interesting. This is a cologne?” he asked, his voice a velvety rumble. He lowered his head to her when he spoke, his large body curving around her small one until she felt they were the only two people in the room.

For the first time, rather than enjoying the knowledge of her own dominance, something in her recognized a stronger power than her own. Ember’s fascination rendered her strangely helpless.

“It’s a blend of essential oils,” she replied, tilting her head just a little as she looked up at him, startled again at just how fathomless his eyes seemed. “You could let me blend it into something for you … lotion, bath salts, that sort of thing. I could dilute it, make it more subtle. Or,” she continued, tipping the little bottle against her finger, “you could just wear it the way it is. Strong,” she breathed, hesitating only for a moment before daring to reach up and trail the finger down his throat, from Adam’s apple to the warm, intriguing hollow right at the base of it. “Elemental.”

Ember heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his pupils dilate. His lips, sculpted perfection, parted slightly as he dipped his head toward her.

“You’re a clever little demon, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath feathering her ear.

It was a strange thing to say, but she hardly spared a thought for it. Instead, Ember gladly fell under the thrall of whatever strange magic this man carried with him, her surroundings fading until there was nothing for her but his scent, the steady sound of his breathing, and the intense heat that radiated from him and made her feel as though she’d gotten too close to the sun. She let her eyes drop shut, skimming her cheek against his, tipping her head back to allow him access to her waiting lips.

After so long, such a relief, to give in. Maybe this one would be strong enough to take all she had to give….

Come to me. Mine.

But when he was just a breath away, her beleaguered nuisance of a conscience managed to get in one final word.

I can’t believe you’re going to make out with this guy right now. In front of everybody. In the STORE!

That was what yanked her back, with an agonizing jolt, to herself—and to the reality of a strange man (albeit a stunningly gorgeous strange man) moving in for a very public lip-lock. Ember gasped as she realized what she’d been about to do, and the bottle of fragrance slipped from her fingers to shatter on the wooden floor.

The mess, and the now overwhelming smell of too much fragrance in one place, helped her hang on to sanity, even as shame flooded her and set her cheeks aflame.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, stumbling backward two steps, her eyes wide. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her body was racked with flashes of both intense heat and brutal cold. She didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her, but she had to get out of here, and away from the man who watched her with a steady gaze that was less human than it was pure predator.

She watched in horror as he reached for her, a frown creasing his dark brow.

“Ember,” he said. “It’s all right, wait—”

“I’m just … c-clumsy today, I guess!” She backed away from him so quickly that she banged her hip on the sharp edge of one of the small tables that were scattered about the shop. She barely felt it through the adrenaline, though the display of decorative glass perfume bottles wobbled precariously. Ember forced out a sharp, nervous laugh. The unnatural sound of it made her wince, but she kept backing up, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

“I’ll go get something to clean that right up. Watch out for the glass.” She started to go, then turned, suffused with a helpless misery she’d sworn she was done with. But of course, she would never be done with it.

Not as long as she lived.

Why couldn’t she just be like everyone else?

Unable to resist, she took one last look at Raum. He really was magnificent. And because of it, one of the most frightening things she’d ever encountered. She knew she’d never be able to get him out of her mind … but since that, at least, would be safe, Ember knew she would welcome the dreams.

There was just no way they could ever be her reality.

“Ember, are you okay?” she heard Ginni ask, though it sounded far away. All she could see were the two men watching her with eyes that suddenly seemed to flare and burn, everything around them going dark. She had seen eyes like that before. No matter how she tried to block it out, she remembered.

“I’m just … I’m sorry,” she said softly. And though she knew it was madness, she turned and fled. But she knew now that she would never be able to run far enough.

There was no way to run from herself.

Chapter 2

“So. Our first she-demon. This one’s going to be interesting.”

Raum slouched over his beer and glared at Gadreel, whose infernally good mood was improving with each passing second. He shot a quick look at Leviathan, but the serpent was as impassive as ever. He had a sudden urge to throw a punch that would knock him out of the chair. Maybe that would elicit a reaction.

“You think anything with a vagina is interesting,” he said instead, and took a long pull of his beer.

Gadreel’s grin widened, and the sudden burst of feminine giggling from the direction of the kitchen door told Raum that the waitresses in this little sports bar had already formed their own Gadreel fan club. Disgusting. Raum frowned more deeply, and hoped it would keep any admirers away. Since his glory days, during which he’d earned his one great claim to fame of having seduced Eve into partaking of a certain forbidden fruit in the Garden, Gadreel had moved on to the seduction of every female, be it lovely and lethal she-demon or soft and yielding human, that he could get his hands on.

The show was getting old.

And like every day since he’d drawn the short straw and had to accompany Gadreel on this mission, Raum wished that just once the stupid idiot had ignored the useless piece of flesh between his legs and thought better of laying so much as a finger on Lucifer’s favorite concubine. That would have improved his own existence greatly.

But no. Another little nothing of a human town, an other homicidal half-breed demon to take out, per the orders of the white-winged powers-that-be. He’d had no idea how overrun Earth had become with such things, or how difficult it was making life for the angels who actually gave a damn about protecting humans. Too many half-breeds, not enough white wings who could devote all their time to slaughtering them. Enter the demon assassins with nothing but time on their hands. It really was the perfect solution.

Raum might have found it amusing, in a sick sort of way, had it not meant that he now got to be graced with Gadreel’s golden presence all day. Every day. Forever.

Or until one of them finally got fed up enough to go after him with a blowtorch.

Raum growled as another burst of feminine giggling erupted, turning his head to look out through the window. He now had a fine view directly into the large glass window of Lotions and Potions, even though Ember had not come into view again. He also had decent beer, though the company left a lot to be desired. For once, he wished for a few of his brethren to appear. As annoying as they were, he much preferred their company to what he’d ended up with on this mission: the underworld’s most notorious narcissist, and an unsympathetic sea monster.

Raum slumped further into his chair and glared at the bottle in front of him. He did not, as a rule, bed she-demons. He liked control, which the succubi delighted in wresting from any man brave, or foolish, enough to succumb to their many charms. But Ember Riddick had affected him … differently. He was intrigued, and not just because she was by far the most beautiful creature he’d seen in ages.

Raum didn’t want to be interested. It pissed him off. Like a lot of things these days.

“Oh, stop brooding, Raum,” Gadreel sniffed, motioning to the waitress to bring him another beer. “You’re so boring. Be happy, will you? We found the half-breed, which means all we have to do now is wait for some asshole to descend from on high to tell us to send her back where she belongs. Then I can go work with someone who appreciates my talent, and you can do … “ He trailed off for a moment, then waved his hand dismissively. “Well, you can do whatever it is you like to do. Sit in the dark. Write bad adolescent poetry. Buy more black shirts. Whatever.”

Savoring the image of slamming that pretty golden head into the nearest wall, Raum took a deliberate swig of his beer, middle finger extended. Then he looked to Leviathan, who was toying with one of the small electronic devices he himself wanted nothing to do with.

“You’re quiet,” Raum finally remarked. After punching a few more buttons, Levi raised eyes that were a pale, icy blue to look at him. His hair was as black as Raum’s own, but hung straight to the middle of his back. Today he wore it pulled back with a simple leather thong, exposing high cheekbones and elegant, angular features that drew human women like flies. Not, Raum had noticed, that Levi really seemed to care. About much of anything, actually. But he was wickedly clever, which was what truly counted. Leviathan was ancient, possibly even older than the demons themselves. He had been in the underworld long before Lucifer had claimed it for his own, that was certain. But the sea monster had been tamed by Lucifer’s hand, and had come to be a prized pet of the King of Hell. Leviathan had certainly wreaked his share of havoc on Hell’s behalf, Raum thought, considering the enigma sitting across from him. But after all these thousands of years, it seemed as though they had all made a mistake when they’d assumed that Levi felt any loyalty to what they had created … and that a monster like him must necessarily be pure evil.

In fact, since leaving Hell, Raum had come to realize that he didn’t know anything at all about Leviathan. And the serpent shifter, for his part, seemed happy to keep it that way.

“I don’t like it,” Levi said, trading the BlackBerry-thing for the glass of water he’d opted for instead of the beer. “Too many Reapers hanging around. Too many nefari skulking around in one place, for that matter. It’s not like this is anything like a big city, and this half-breed hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Yeah, I’d say killing is pretty far down on her list,” Gadreel snorted, trailing a finger absently down the waitress’s arm as he accepted his beer. Raum saw her quiver before she headed back to the bar, and knew that Gadreel, at least, would have plenty of company to distract him later. For once, Raum envied him that.

He thought again of Ember’s eyes, the way they’d turned from warm honey to hot gold when he’d touched her. She was a luscious little creature, though she was trying rather badly to hide it behind those ridiculous glasses: small but perfectly curved, and with pointed little features and a rosebud mouth that made her look like a sexy faerie. It fascinated him, that she would run a shop devoted to scent when she wore none but her own natural one. The heady combination of sweetness and spice that poured from her creamy skin had made him want to tug the band out of her wild tangle of fiery curls and plunge his hands into it, holding her still while he ran his tongue over every inch of her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

Stupid. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. She was a job, nothing more.

“Do you think the Reapers are here just because of all the extra nefari?” Raum asked, frowning. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“Don’t think so,” Levi replied with a small shake of his head. Then he indicated the window. “Look at them. It makes no sense. They’re all just waiting.”

Raum followed Levi’s gaze and watched a black-robed man, slim and pale and dark, flicker into existence across the street, walk past several shops, glance his way and vanish once more. Around him, humans walked and drove on the bustling main street, enjoying the crisp fall day. Raum wondered how complacent they’d be if they could see what he saw … if they knew their sleepy little town was now a hotbed of supernatural activity of a rather dark kind.

He wished they could. It would at least make for some entertainment.

The bell above the door rang again, but Raum didn’t bother to look. Not until Gadreel growled several colorful curse words with venom that was uncharacteristic even for him. Then Raum knew who it was, even before he heard the creak and groan of the vacant seat at the table as another, very large, body settled into it.

“Well,” said a familiar voice. “This is cozy.” Reluctantly, Raum turned his attention to the new comer. His white wings, tipped in gold, were hidden away, but everything about him still bespoke his exalted status. Light gleamed from his short, wavy cap of golden hair, from his gold-dusted skin, keeping him in a nimbus of light that even human eyes would be able to see faintly. Hard, intelligent blue eyes swept the three demons, and from the expression on the angel’s face, he didn’t much care for what he saw. As usual.

“Hello, Uriel,” said Raum, not bothering to disguise his lack of excitement. “To what do we owe the plea sure?” Levi was normally the only one who had to deal with the seraphim running the little operation they had going, and that suited everyone just fine. But every once in a while, the highest rank of angels stuck their nose in a little deeper than their demonic recruits would prefer. And because Raum’s existence had turned into one epic failure after another, it seemed like every time this happened, they sent Uriel.

“I wouldn’t think another half-breed would merit so much attention from someone of your … elevated status,” Gadreel added. “We are but your lowly exterminators. Isn’t that about right?”

Uriel shot him a look. “Shove it.”

“It’s not just the half-breed,” Levi said coolly, draw ing a surprised look from the angel and demons alike. “Maybe you should tell us what exactly is going on here, Uriel, before we go any further.”

Uriel snorted, but Raum caught the quick flash of something one rarely saw in an angel’s eyes: fear. It only validated his own suspicions about this mission. There was something very off about this place, even beyond his odd reaction to Ember Riddick.

“I’m not sure what you think you’re entitled to,” Uriel said with a hard smile.

“We’re entitled to some small amount of courtesy, considering we put our asses on the line for you on a regular basis.”

“You’re paid well for it,” Uriel replied. The light around him contracted and turned a deeper gold, a sure sign of his rising anger.

“As we should be, considering your kind has turned a blind eye to demonkind for so long that you can’t see what you need to anymore. Levi’s right,” Raum said flatly, his own temper flaring. “This place has the stench of death all over it, and it’s not coming from the woman.”

Uriel shoved a hand through his cap of golden hair, agitated. “No, we thought not.” He shook his head and gave a mirthless little laugh. “I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s so much like last time. Come on, Raum,” he said. “You were there. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” Again, that hint of bitterness in his voice. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit that day.”

The door opened and shut as the bar’s one remaining patron left, sending a gentle rush of chilled air past the table. Again, Raum caught the faintest hint of brimstone, and this time the memory rushed to the surface so quickly that he wondered at having missed the signs before. Of course he remembered. Even now in Hell, they sang songs about that glorious day.

The witch had been the key. Young, untried, with power it would take years to hone, she’d drawn the hand some lust-demon to her like a moth to the flame. She had caught him, bound him to her, loved him … while the incubus had twisted her into the most deadly weapon that humankind had yet seen.

On a cold day in November, she had stood in the center of her little English village, in the place where worlds touched, and for a few dark hours thrown open the gates of Hell.

“You’re thinking Hellhole,” Raum murmured, his mind fogged once again with the smoke that poured from the flaming thatched roofs, from the massive chasm that had opened straight down into the bowels of the earth and beyond. The air had been thick with screams of terror, the wild screeches and howls of the nefari, the shouts of Fallen and angel as the two engaged in bloody battle. Raum remembered the harsh music of clashing swords, the taunts and catcalls that had risen above the destruction as the angels had slowly fought the demon horde back into the ground.

Not soon enough, though. Not before the horseman called Plague had ridden off into the night.

“This is one of the thin places,” Uriel said softly, looking directly at him. “And I have no doubt there is an actual Nexus point here, where Hell touches Earth.”

“You think the woman is the key,” Levi said, threading long, elegant fingers together on the table. “How?”

“I wish I knew,” Uriel growled furiously, fists clench ing reflexively on the table. “I can’t seem to see their kind like I used to be able to. The half-breeds are like the rest of the Lost Ones, without hope, without Light. What reason was there for us to watch them destroy themselves? Except … now I can’t seem to see like I should … and the Balance is precarious enough as it is … “

“Oh, come on, Uriel,” Gadreel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You can whip yourself later, in private. I may be a demon, but that’s not really my thing.”

Raum just watched Uriel’s impotent fury with interest, and no small amount of trepidation. Right now, the Balance, the natural equilibrium between Light and Dark here on Earth, was the only thing standing between him and a permanent swim in a flaming river. And it was hard enough to maintain without a seven-on-one fight against the demon horde. He couldn’t really count the angels as allies, though they’d be fighting, too; he was pretty sure that most of them would be happy to use him and his fellow exiles as shields.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the side of his beer bottle and tried to focus. It fit right in with his current run of miserable luck that he’d find himself up against one of the only things he had absolutely no control over. The natural Balance on Earth was a thing that neither the Dark nor the Light truly understood. One side fought it, the other accepted it, but nothing changed the fact that there were only ever as many demons allowed to walk in the Above as there were angels. The mysterious safeguard, however, could be affected by Earth’s natural magic and the humans with the ability to wield it. Even a small fluctuation in the Balance could have big consequences … the summoning of a demon noble, for instance, which occasionally ended badly for the demon and almost always ended badly for the Summoner, as well as almost everyone within a ten-mile radius.

At least the humans themselves had weeded out the Summoner bloodline. The ability to call and enslave demons had been one of his least-favorite facets of Earth magic.

But in any case, opening a Hellhole was a hundred thousand times worse.

“Fine. If Ember Riddick is the key, then we’ll just take her out. Boom. Done. End of problem,” said Gadreel, making a slashing motion across his throat with an unrepentant smile.

Raum and Uriel spoke in unison.

“No.”

He could feel Gadreel and Levi staring at him, but there was no going back now. He thrust his chin up defiantly and glared at Uriel.

“She’s not a normal half-breed,” he said. “I don’t know why, but Ember Riddick is … different. Not violent. Not stupid. Definitely not insane.”

“She liked you,” Gadreel muttered, “so that last part’s debatable.”

“Hmm,” Uriel said, his dark eyes searching Raum’s face. His expression turned thoughtful, softening fea tures that seemed to have been chiseled from stone. Raum watched him think, dreading what he would come up with. He knew better than to underestimate the seraphim, little as he cared for their company. They weren’t the greatest of the warrior-angels for nothing.

“Let me try to understand this. You think we’re sitting on top of a Nexus point, you’re fairly sure that a local half-breed is about to blow it wide-open, and … your solution is to do nothing?” Gadreel whipped his head around to glare at Raum. “And you … she’s just a sexy little slice of evil, Raum, nothing more. I’ve had twists of tail just as enticing a thousand times over! If you’re that hard up, screw her before we send her back to Hell, but don’t be an idiot!”

“You will not touch the woman,” Uriel said, that deep golden glow beginning to pulse from him once again. “There will be no murdering of innocents, Gadreel, and this woman has hurt no one. It may be that she has enough Light in her to stand against the darkness … though I’ve never seen such a thing from her kind … but she will not be harmed by you, or our arrangement is at an end and you can damn well fend for yourself. Is that understood?”

Gadreel glared at him, seething. “Whatever you say, boss,” he finally hissed, his eyes the vibrant green of the snake within. “But don’t think I’m babysitting her.”

“Fortunately, that’s one area where we agree,” Uriel said, still pulsing with furious light, though his expression was neutral. Raum knew the tone of voice well, though. It was the one the angel used when he was trying, very hard, to refrain from shouting.

“What do you need from us?” Levi asked, and Raum saw him give Gadreel a sidelong glance that promised bloodshed if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I need the Nexus found, the exact location of the touch point. I don’t want to flood the town with my legions until we know for certain where it is, because I’m afraid that’s just going to push things along that much faster. At that point, there are certain things that can be done … “ He trailed off, looking troubled. “Well. We’ve done it before. I don’t want this place to end up like Hiraeth.”

Raum had been back once, to the location of the tiny village where Hell had broken loose, and found nothing but a patch of scorched earth where nothing would grow, where animals came to die and where men, if they lingered overlong, went mad. It was a desecrated place. Perhaps it would always be.

He looked out the window again, at the oblivious humans, and wondered whether that would happen here. And oddly, his thoughts went immediately to Ember, the sadness in her eyes right before she’d run away from him. How would she feel about causing such destruction? Would she break free of her humanity in triumph? Or would she just … break?

He felt a strange pull of something that felt almost like melancholy at the thought. Which was ridiculous. He’d sworn off feelings long ago. And why the hell did he care anyway? Maybe Gadreel was right, for once. He needed to get his head out of his ass … or his pants.

Uriel was still blathering on, puffed up, Raum thought irritably, with his own seraphic importance.

“In the meantime, I think it would be best for me to assign the woman a temporary Guardian to watch over her—”

“Fine,” Raum said, cutting him off. “I’ll do it.”

Uriel stopped short, staring at Raum as though he’d just grown another head. The look alone was worth the immediate shock to his own system. Had he actually said that? Out loud?

“I … appreciate the offer, Raum. But I was more think ing of someone who would appeal to her better nature,” Uriel said slowly.

“Won’t work,” Raum said with a shake of his head. “She’ll have to make peace with her worse nature if she wants to live. Gadreel is perfectly capable of finding the Nexus. I’ll be her Guardian.”

The seraph frowned. “I didn’t ask. Last time I checked, you were the opposite of a Guardian Angel.”

“And yet I’ll be watching over her anyway,” Raum replied, crossing his arms over his chest, fully prepared to argue … and win. “Imagine that.”

“Raum.” Uriel’s tone was warning, but Raum’s mind was made up.

“She’s mine. Deal with it.”

The words came out strangely, giving him pause. Still, he meant them, if only in the most temporary sense. He’d brought out the demon in Ember once, and easily. He’d no doubt see quickly that she really was no different from every other stinking half-breed on the planet. When she broke, which she would, he could handle whatever she threw at him until the damned cavalry arrived to save the day. He’d get over this stupid thing about the woman, she’d get shuttled off to Hell that much sooner, and best of all, Uriel would be pissed off the whole time.

It was the perfect solution.

Uriel’s jaw tightened to the point Raum thought it might crack … and wouldn’t that have been satisfying … but finally, he rose stiffly and fixed Raum with eyes that were full of warring emotions. Raum himself felt nothing but disgust. Uriel was everything that was wrong with the angels, letting his heart rule alongside his mind, placing some misguided idea of right and wrong above cold logic. He had grown past him.

Then how do you explain what you’re doing right now?

The whisper in his mind was soft, insidious, the shadow of the demon who had been celebrated as the Destroyer of Dignities before being brought low. The demon, he thought with a furious sort of determination, he still was. Still, the voice made his blood run cold.

Uriel’s eyes narrowed, but he turned to Levi. “Let me know,” was all he said. Then he was gone, slamming out of the bar with such force that the door frame cracked.

They sat in silence, the three of them, the faint sound of music from the jukebox the only sound in the nearly empty bar. Finally, Gadreel broke the silence.

“Well,” he said with a humorless flash of his teeth. “That was fun. Now if you’ll excuse me, before I dash off to find the Nexus and save the world, I believe there are several deadly sins that require my immediate attention.”

He stood, pushed in his chair and strode off in the direction of the waitresses, who were still huddled by the kitchen door and watching him hungrily.

Raum watched him go, forcing himself to relax his grip on the bottle before it shattered in his hand. He felt Leviathan’s eyes on him, but ignored that searching stare. He wasn’t in the mood. He hated talking, and he hated company. And he particularly hated Gadreel.

His gaze drifted back to the little shop across the street, and just for an instant, his eyes met Ember’s. There was a hot rush of awareness, like being caught in a sudden blast of desert wind, and the hair on his arms, the back of his neck, rose at the electricity that seemed to snap through the air between them.

He watched her flush and turn away, retreating farther into the store where he couldn’t see her. All he was left with was a toxic combination of fury at his want of her and utterly reckless, overwhelming desire.

Chapter 3

Ember woke in a cold sweat, thrashing her way to the surface until she realized that all she was fighting were her sheets, twisted around her body.

She’d had the nightmare again: a red desert. A gaping hole in the sand full of living, writhing horrors … a hole she had created. And all the while, the beautiful, terrifying man with the wings looking on approvingly. He had given her the words, though by now she knew them by heart … and as it always did, power had poured out of her like rain in a summer storm.

Not like when she was awake, living life as an undercover mutant without a cause. Though she didn’t think she would ever want that sort of power in her real life.

She’d had dreams like that off and on since she was a kid, an awkward little redhead with few friends, a dad whom she’d never met and who was only ever referred to as “that good-for-nothing scumbag,” and a mother who alternated between ignoring her and hating her. They were always scary. But in a way, they’d been kind of comforting. At least the man with the wings, the Bad Angel, as she’d always thought of him, hadn’t judged her so harshly as everyone else. He’d liked the things that made her different.

Too bad he was just as unreal as her stupid dreams. Then again, she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to meet that guy in real life. Not that he’d ever hurt her, but she’d never been able to shake the impression that he’d be a much nastier customer in person than she could ever be in her worst moments.

A soft, tapping sound jerked Ember from her jumbled waking thoughts, bringing her crashing back to the dark silence of her room. Or near silence. Ember lay utterly still, warm beneath her covers, hearing nothing but the faintly ragged sound of her own breathing. Moonlight poured in her window, the wind making the shadows of trees dance across her wall.

Ember exhaled slowly.

Calm down, she told herself. It was just her frayed nerves playing tricks on her, that was all. There was no doubt that her week had been one of the weirdest in recent memory, and she could pinpoint exactly when it had started: the second the tall, dark and strangely irresistible man had wandered into her shop and sent her sex drive into nuclear territory. She hadn’t had a reaction like that since puberty had hit her like an oncoming train, but even so, this time had been different. She’d never felt called to a man like that.

Of course, Ember was pretty sure she’d never seen a man quite like that. Period. But still …

She’d just begun to relax, accepting that she was only freaking herself out, when she heard it again.

Ember blinked the sleep from her eyes, and everything in the dark room came into sharp relief. As annoying as her weirdness could be, being able to see in the dark occasionally came in handy. She slowly sat up, telling herself that it was nothing, even as adrenaline began to pump through her system.

Then she saw them, twin red coals watching her unblinkingly from right outside her window. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and Ember barely stifled a small scream as her hand went to her mouth. The red pinpoints bored into her, unblinking …

Then it fluttered its wings, and the illusion was bro ken. Moonlight glinted in eyes that were no longer red. Wind lifted shadows that became feathers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ember found herself fending off a fit of nervous laughter. It was a crow. Not a demon, not Poe’s ominous raven, but a common crow, probably cold and taking a breather from the tempestuous night wind. Except …

Ember narrowed her eyes, taking a good look at it. It couldn’t be the same bird, but damn it, it looked just like the enormous crow that had taken up residence at her shop. It had been there all week, perched on the sign, or the window-sill or the tree planted in the sidewalk just down from her door. Weird, she thought with an involuntary little shiver. Even weirder was that she hadn’t been able to shake the sensation that the bird wasn’t just hanging around, but watching her. Which made no sense. As little sense, in fact, as her continuing obsession with the fact that the crow had arrived on Monday afternoon, not long after she’d seen Raum in Mick’s, the bar across the street. And he had been watching her then.

She’d broken three more bottles of essence after that.

“Not thinking about it. Not going there,” Ember said aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would add a little more reality to the decidedly surreal night. Bolstered, if only a little, she addressed the bird on the sill.

“Fly away, birdie. Go home. No vacancy.”

It really was a beautiful bird, Ember thought as it watched her unblinkingly, the largest crow she’d ever seen, at least up close. She knew they were scavengers, but they were supposed to be really smart, too. This one certainly looked as if it had its wits about it. But enough to follow her home from work?

As she watched, it held her gaze, leaned forward. Then:

Tap tap tap.

It wanted in.

“No way,” Ember murmured, amazed. She’d sure as hell never seen a bird wanting to visit inside someone’s house before. Obviously, all it would do if she opened the window would be to either fly off into the night, or worse, to come in and then freak out about what it had thought it wanted. But … what if it was tame? Someone’s escaped pet, caught in the oncoming storm? What if it wasn’t used to being outside and would wind up dead if she left it in the cold?

What if it needed her?

That was the sweet spot, right there. The one she couldn’t resist indulging.

“Oh, honestly,” she muttered. “Fine. Let’s be stupid.”

She got out of bed and padded to the window, the moonlight painting dappled images on her bare skin. It was probably idiocy, but she was never going to feel right about it if she just let the poor crow sit there. And anyway, she had few enough friends. That was one of the overarching themes of her life: alone. Who was she to shun a fellow creature based solely on species?

Her fingers had just flipped the latches when there was a flurry of motion behind her, a rapid scuttling noise, clickity-clickity-click, like a small animal scurrying across her floor. The window slammed up of its own accord just as the claws sank into her shoulders.

Ember had only a vague impression of something huge and black exploding into her room from the night, just before she was hurled across the room as though she weighed no more than a doll. For a moment, she was weightless. Then, in a lightning-quick burst of instinct that came out of nowhere, she tucked herself into a ball, rolling rather than slamming into the floor or wall and ending quickly in a defensive crouch on the far side of her bed.

There was a split second of recognition that, under other circumstances, she would have thought her move had been pretty damn cool. Then she heard an inhuman, outraged shriek, and something deep inside her roared in response. A sudden wave of bloodlust crashed through her like a tidal wave. All her carefully constructed barriers crumbled in an instant, and the daylight creature she fought to be evaporated in the face of the night creature she truly was.

There was a crash, the sound of shattering glass. And a fierce growl that stirred Ember in ways that had nothing to do with violence. So familiar … she had to see, to know. In a single, nimble leap, Ember cleared the bed and immediately found herself confronted with a sight straight out of a horror movie.

The two creatures grappled by the window, reduced to shadows where they fought, backlit by the moon. One of them, the one she knew immediately had drawn the blood that had already dried on her shoulders, was truly the most hideous thing she’d ever seen. Its skin was a deep and angry red even in the darkness, and its squat and muscular body strained as blood poured from a gash across its head. And that head … stubby, curved horns protruded from the forehead, and its snout pulled back to reveal a maw full of dagger-sharp teeth.

As Ember watched, the creature drew back its arm and slashed its claws across the cheek of its opponent, earning, amazingly, no more than a pained grunt for its trouble.

“You’ll pay for that, you nefari piece of shit,” snarled a voice that she recognized the second she heard it. She would know that voice anywhere. The wings, however, sprouting from his back with a kind of strange majesty, took her utterly aback.

Just like in my dreams.

His blazing eyes, a hot and angry green, connected with hers for only a split second, sending a jolt through her that seemed to set every nerve ending she had aflame at once. Stripped of her inhibitions, Ember let the connection between them ripple through her, the siren song of pleasure promised far greater for her than the interest in the fight.

Sensing it, the horned creature’s attention moved completely to her. It quickly forgot Raum in favor of its initial prey and shoved away from him to stalk toward her, gleaming red eyes full of blind hatred and a terrible hunger.

This time, the warning growl that filled the air was Ember’s. Her body felt loose, agile, and she realized that all her fear had evaporated. It had been replaced by a sort of breathless anticipation. That, and a complete confidence that when she and this creature went for one another’s throats, she would win. Which was good, because Raum’s presence had her blood singing. If she had to tear through this thing to get to him, so be it.

Ember growled louder, her claws extended, her long and deadly incisors bared.

Come and get me, you son of a bitch.

It leaped, and Ember propelled herself into the air, ready to clash, to meet it in a biting, tearing frenzy. All of her passion, her pent-up energy, sizzled through her veins in anticipation. She would make her kill. She would teach this thing a lesson.

And then it was gone, stolen from her out of midair as Raum swooped out of nowhere and slammed it against the wall. Ember had the wind knocked out of her in one harsh breath, one swift blow to her gut sending her hurtling back to the floor. There was an almost piglike squeal, followed quickly by an ear-piercing shriek of pain so intense her ears throbbed with it.

Then, silence, except for the blood still rushing in her ears. Ember gasped as her lungs shuddered back to life, dragging herself to a sitting position while she grappled with a barrage of coughing. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to brace herself for another attack.

Raum rose to his feet on the other side of the room, over the crumpled form of the creature that had attacked her. Without even glancing at her, he pulled a small pouch from his pocket and sprinkled something over the body, murmuring words she could barely hear. She began to make her way over to him, slowly, deliberately, maintaining her crouch and silent as a ghost. She’d take him down first and ask questions after, she decided, trying to keep in mind that he’d come tearing into her house uninvited and ready to fight.

But it was the prospect of having him pinned beneath her as she straddled him that moved her forward, silent as a cat in the dark. The body of the dead creature began to smoke, then vanished in a burst of orange flame. Ember’s mouth fell open, her eyes rounding in disbelief as she stopped short.

This had to be more of her nightmare. Had to be. Except it all felt terribly real. She shuddered in a breath, pinched herself with claws that drew blood with sharp little pinpricks of pain and made her hiss. But it couldn’t be real, Ember thought. Because if it was …

“Raum?”

Raum turned to stare at her with green eyes that glowed brightly in the dark. All at once his scent flooded her nostrils, an exotic musk that reminded her of candles and incense. The scent of dark places, of mysteries undiscoverable. She could hear him now, his slow, steady breathing, the thudding rhythm of his heart soothing the erratic beat of her own. Ember started to get to her feet, then staggered as an unexpected wave of dizziness knocked her off balance.

Immediately, his arms were around her, pressing her into a chest that felt like hot stone. Ember shivered from the warmth, leaning into his heat even as she fought off the escalating light-headedness.

“Don’t,” she protested weakly, knowing full well that she was already an active participant in this little embrace. She was going to get herself killed. He could be getting ready to shred her even now. All her stupid instincts demanded she get as close to him as humanly possible. Her head was so foggy all of a sudden … Why couldn’t she think?

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ember,” Raum said, making no move to let her go. “You have plenty to worry about, but not that.”

His voice was stern, but somehow that was a comfort. Especially because she was suddenly having a hard time keeping her feet under her.

“Raum,” she murmured, her speech going slurry. “I feel kinda funny.”

In response, he ran his hands over her shoulders, and Ember was surprised at the dull and throbbing pain at his touch.

“Ow,” she complained, jerking her shoulders so that his hands returned to her back.

“Your wounds are deep,” he said, and the anger in his voice made her shiver again.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” she informed him, then giggled foolishly. The laughter made the dizziness worse, though, and Ember brought her arms up to wrap around Raum’s waist. She groaned as her stomach gave a sudden, violent lurch.

“I’m going to be sick,” she announced, and her knees began to buckle beneath her.

He sighed, taking on more of her weight. “You’re going to be a lot worse than that if we don’t get you some help. Stupid demon. I don’t know who sent him, but he seems to have forgotten his orders. If I hadn’t killed him, his master would have … “ He trailed off, squeezing her tighter. Concern darkened his voice.

“Ember? Stay with me. Okay?”

“Hmm? You have the nicest voice,” she said, darkness beginning to encroach on her vision. “I could listen to you talk forever. Would you tell me a story?” Sleep was barreling toward her, though, and Ember frowned at the injustice. “Whassa matter with me, Raum?”

He bent, and in one quick motion caught her behind the knees and scooped her into his arms, cradling her like the child she suddenly felt like. The world spun nauseatingly, and she buried her face against the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Ohh,” she groaned. “Not good.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t.” That undercurrent of anger in his voice had grown stronger. “Listen to me, Ember. That demon stuck his claws in you, and it looks like he was poisonous. You’ve got to try to stay awake, all right? I have to find someone who can help. So just … No, look, don’t do that,” he said as her head lolled back. He shoved it back against his chest and gave it a little shake for good measure. It didn’t feel great, but it pushed the darkness back a little.

“Are we flying?” she asked, remembering the wings.

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied, jostling her, and she realized, albeit dimly, that he was swinging a leg out the open window.

“Do you have an airsick bag, then?”

“Don’t even think about it,” he said. His voice was strained, and Ember thought he was probably imagining what might happen to his clothes in the absence of that airsick bag. Then she felt a rush of air, and clung more tightly to his chest as her stomach threatened to do exactly what he had just commanded it not to do.

“This is a hell of a way to start,” she heard him growl. “Don’t you dare die, Ember Riddick.”

“‘Kay,” she murmured, feeling her world tip and begin to go black again. “Raum?”

“What?”

“Are you my Guardian Angel?” she asked, and smiled at his snort, which was as much of an answer as anything.

“No,” he finally said.

She dug her fingers more tightly into his shirt, and only fleetingly wondered whether her claws had retracted. Either way, he didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. And it no longer mattered, because she was falling, falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, into a darkness that even she couldn’t see through.

“Save me anyway?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Then she was gone.

Chapter 4

Raum soared into the night sky on ebony wings, a blur invisible to the human eye as he cradled his un conscious cargo close to his chest. The death smell mingled unpleasantly with the autumn spice of the night air, fueling his urgency as he headed for a place where it would be safe to call upon the power he would need. How, Raum asked himself, had he managed to get himself into the position of playing not only Guardian, but hero? It was utterly disgusting.

He glanced quickly down at the woman in his arms, noted how pale she had become, the shallowness of each breath. Even her natural warmth, higher than that of an average human, was growing cold. Her jerked his head up and flew faster, swallowing his rising panic.

Damn whoever had chosen the cataclysmically stupid, poisonous nefari to send after him, he thought angrily. And damn him for his utter lack of sense where the woman was concerned. He should have known she’d be watched. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here.

In seconds, the mountains were all around him, the dark shapes of the trees beckoning him into their safe haven. When he found a likely spot, Raum dropped lightly from the sky and landed in a secluded clearing. This was a cool, dark, soothing place, and rife with both the rich scent of decaying leaves and the wintry promise of pine in every frigid breath. A good place. He needed privacy for this.

Raum strode to the center of the clearing, bathed in the light of a moon that was nearly full. In his arms, Ember began to shiver uncontrollably. He could actually feel the life force ebbing from her, could feel the final spark of warmth, her soul, preparing to take flight.

It would, he knew, make Gadreel happy. The rest would just see it as an easier way out of the situation and think nothing more of it. But if the Nexus had drawn Ember to it, it would eventually draw another with the ability to open it. That was the way of the old magic of Earth: it called to those who could hear it.

But beyond that, something about Ember Riddick intrigued him. Pulled at him, even more than her beauty. All week, he had watched her, solitary even as she interacted with those around her. She kept much to herself because she had to, Raum assumed. Perhaps, probably, she’d been hurt for being what she was. At first, he’d wondered if maybe the cycle was repeating itself completely and she had a nefari lover already. He’d been far too relieved to discover that wasn’t the case.

He just hoped he remembered what he was doing, because it had been an awfully long time since he’d called upon this ability. Actually, he wasn’t certain he’d even retained it after his Fall.

Nothing like having to find out under duress.

“All right. Let’s get this over with,” he said, rolling his shoulders and neck as he planted himself firmly in the middle of the clearing, legs slightly apart. He adjusted Ember in his arms, exposing her small form to the pale light of the moon. Then, with a deep breath, Raum closed his eyes. Cleared his mind. And after a moment’s hesitation, called the Light.

He arched his back and spread his wings wide, wait ing. Slowly, he could feel it filling him, the white light of healing using him as a conduit to suffuse the woman he held. It started slowly, then strengthened, filling him until it pulsed right along with his heart. The power flowed faster, brighter, rushing through him and from him with such strength that the air around him began to whip and pull at him. And now it was Raum shuddering, fighting not to recoil as something wild and sweet flooded him, something he had forgotten long ago.

Beauty. Joy. Love …

Means to an end, he insisted to himself, even as the Light began to illuminate even the darkest places within him, invading. Awakening. Just a means to an end. I do not care. I will NEVER care. I am darkness. I am sin. I am the enemy of love.

That was about the time his hands, pressed against Ember, began to sting. Then throb.

Then smoke.

Raum’s eyes flew open in horror, and he let Ember fall to the ground just as they burst into flame.

“Son of a bitch!” he roared. Everything fled his thoughts but white-hot pain. Raum mashed his flaming hands against his chest and collapsed onto the ground, smothering the flames with both his weight and the damp soil and leaves beneath him. He closed his eyes tightly, though nothing on Earth, in the Above or the Below, could have taken him far enough away from the blinding pain in his hands.

Through gritted teeth, he began to recite some of his favorite human expletives.

His fury was rudely interrupted by a soft moan, and his anger vanished as he realized Ember was still sprawled on the ground where he’d dropped her. Raum scrambled over to where she lay, keeping his wounded hands close to his body.

She was still, so still, her face half in shadow as he knelt over her. She was still far too pale, even for one with her light complexion. But her breathing appeared to have steadied, her lips parted slightly as her breath sent small puffs of mist into the cold night air. The thin T-shirt she wore was covered in blood, still wet, and so close to her, Raum’s nose was filled with the coppery scent of it. Despite his pain, he fumbled at her shirt with red, raw hands, rending the material in two down the front of her and pulling it away where the fabric had adhered to the small, deep puncture wounds around her shoulders.

Ember moaned again, a soft, thick sound in the back of her throat that twisted like a knife in his chest. Raum tentatively brushed his hands against her skin, examining the way the blood flow had stopped, frowning as he realized the skin was knitting itself back together even as he watched. It was incredibly rare for a half-breed to be able to self-heal so quickly. But the wounds were vanishing, leaving unbroken skin beneath a thin and tacky film of Ember’s blood. Her soft skin warmed beneath his hands.

His gamble had worked. But Raum realized too late that in his haste, he hadn’t thoroughly considered the possible consequences: he hadn’t dreamed that touch ing her would become so addictive so quickly. But even as he willed himself to stop, his hands stroked and soothed with a gentleness he had thought was long forgotten.

This time when she shivered, he knew it was from the deepening chill in the air and not because she was leaving him. He gathered her up again, eyes skimming down her exposed torso as he did and lingering on her full, rounded breasts, the nipples taut in reaction to the cold. The intriguing indent of her navel in her long, lean waist.

Raum jerked his gaze away and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his wings around her as he got to his feet. The pain in his hands had lessened to a dull ache, smoke still coiling lazily from the raw skin, but concentrating on holding Ember pushed it to the back of his mind and made it more bearable. They would have been healed already, had it been anything but fire. That fire, in particular. Still, the damage should be gone by morning, though they’d be misery for a while yet.

Ember hadn’t yet wakened, but she curled into him, nuzzling her face into his chest. She sighed softly, and Raum felt a strange tug somewhere in the dark and blackened vicinity that supposedly held a heart. He had a sudden, overwhelming desire to protect her, to keep her close ….

“Well,” said a voice, “this is a new one, even for me.”

Raum hunched his shoulders defensively in reaction. He wasn’t at all in the frame of mind he liked to be in when confronting the almost always unhelpful Reapers. And this one, Jarrod by name, had thwarted him before. Raum made sure his hands were well-hidden beneath his wings along with most of Ember, determined not to let the Reaper see the damage he’d inflicted on himself. Then he might ask questions, and Raum was in no mood to answer them.

“What are you doing here, Jarrod?” Raum grumbled. “Your services aren’t needed.”

“Apparently not,” Jarrod replied, quirking a brow. The Reaper was clad as the rest of his kind always were, all in black, and with a long coat that had been known, on occasion, to hold wonders. Not that they shared, Raum thought, glowering.

The Reaper stretched his neck, trying to get a better look at what Raum was holding on to. “What have you got there?”

“None of your business,” Raum snapped, wrapping his wings more tightly around himself. Why, after millennia of Reapers avoiding him like the plague, did this one have to show up now?

“Well, I was minding my business, now that you mention it,” Jarrod said. His fair skin shimmered faintly in the darkness, a marked contrast to his severe clothes. “But see, then I was called by a woman’s departing soul, so here I am, ready to guide her into the beyond, and instead, I find a Fallen angel who thinks I don’t realize he’s hiding her under his wings. Right. There. In front of me.” He cocked his head, amusement and curiosity glittering in his dark eyes.

“You’re not needed here, Jarrod. Go away.” Raum pulled an arm free and waved him off with an irritated jerk, then remembered his hands.

Shit.

“You’re burned,” Jarrod said softly, his surprise evident. “Did you … ?”

The question, only half-finished, hung in the air between them. Raum considered denying it, but though he was adept at lying, anything he said was going to sound ridiculous. All he could hope for was that the truth got rid of the Reaper faster. He fixed Jarrod with a steely glare that greater beings had withered beneath.

“What if I did? It’s no business of yours.”

Jarrod looked nothing short of stunned, an expression Raum didn’t think he’d ever seen on a Reaper’s face before. The other man was silent a long moment, though he made no move to leave. Then he said, “I’d heard you were one of the defectors, you know. But I didn’t actually believe it was true.” His dark eyes narrowed slightly, considering him with unnerving intensity when Raum said nothing, which he knew the Reaper would take as confirmation enough.

Then, Jarrod said softly, “This is not the place for you right now, Raum of the Fallen.”

Raum stared. It was the first time he had ever received any information that might be remotely construed as helpful from a Reaper, who were stubbornly neutral. Jarrod’s face betrayed no emotion, though he continued to watch Raum with that look of frank assessment.

Finally, Raum said, “I know about the Nexus. We’re not going to let it happen.”

Jarrod’s smile was thin. “That’s a switch. But you’re up against more than you know.” Then he walked toward him, his stride purposeful. Raum took a step back, glaring.

“Don’t be greedy, Raum. Let me see the woman.”

“Piss off.”

Jarrod stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “She’s not so far from the borders of death yet, Raum. I want to see if you’ve done your job right.” He shook his head. “At least, I’m assuming that saving innocent humans is part of your job now?”

“Not really,” Raum grumbled, unable to let it go. He had no interest in word getting around that he was trying to get back into the white-winged contingent when it was so entirely untrue.

Jarrod stepped forward again. “Then all the more reason for me to have a look. You probably screwed it up and I’ll have to take her anyway.”

Raum bared his teeth. “Try it and lose an arm.” But he relented at last, parting his wings to reveal Ember’s unconscious form. He remembered that she was naked from the waist up, and turned her into him so that Jarrod couldn’t get a good look, gripped by another wave of unreasonable possessiveness. He could tell from the odd look the Reaper gave him that he’d noticed, but for once, Jarrod kept his opinion to himself.

Instead, he leaned over her, eyes intense. He reached out one long-fingered hand and brushed a lock of gleaming hair away from the side of Ember’s face, and Raum felt his fists clench. That was followed by a wave of nauseating pain, payment for moving his abused hands without thinking.

“Well?” he gritted out when the Reaper continued to examine her silently. Jarrod raised his gaze to him, and it was as black as a starless night.

“Why did you save her?”

Raum blinked. “What?”

“Why did you save this woman?” Jarrod repeated. “Be cause that’s what you’ve done. And considering what, and who, she is, I’m a little confused. I don’t know what it cost you, exactly,” he continued, his voice dropping, and Raum saw his eyes go to his smoking hands. “But I’m going to guess it was quite a bit.”

Raum paused, torn between the truth and keeping up appearances, though the latter would mean the end of this bizarre conversation with the Reaper. He’d never looked at the agents of Death as much more than a necessary nuisance, sometimes entertaining to bother, completely useless when it came to information. But Jarrod, with whom he’d engaged in the occasional war of words with over this soul or that, seemed to want to tell him something. And the days when he could afford to blow such an impression off were gone.

“It … she was guarded. Stupid nefari was meant to protect her and turned on her as soon as it got excited.” He shrugged. “I should have been more careful. She’s important to this Nexus business, and … Uriel doesn’t want her hurt.” It was as close as he would come to the truth, to his own interest in protecting her.

“But why you?” Jarrod asked, and he seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Because I said I would. Because this is the sorry state my existence has been reduced to.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because it’s my fault she got hurt. Why does it matter to you anyway, Jarrod?” The words sounded foreign to his own ears, rolling strangely off his tongue. When was the last time he had admitted to anything resembling guilt? And yet it was true, all true.

He suddenly felt ill.

Jarrod seemed to sense this, and his gaze softened, though Raum didn’t appreciate it. He had no use for pity, and wanted none. Still, the truth got him what he’d wanted.

Or thought he wanted.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Jarrod asked, still looking puzzled. Then he shook his head, seeming to accept the situation. “It’s ironic, that you’ve unwittingly given a part of yourself to the daughter of your enemy. A noble gift I wouldn’t have expected you to give in a million years, don’t get me wrong. But this is going to infuriate him. You may want to get out of here until you can muster some backup. Otherwise … “ he trailed off for a moment, his gaze dropping to Ember’s face with a look of sympathy, “there’s no way you’ll stand between him and what he wants. Not alone.”

Raum’s eyes narrowed as he grappled with Jarrod’s words, trying to discern any meaning but the one he feared. But his longstanding feud was well known even to midworlders like the Reapers, and he knew, in his gut, exactly what Jarrod had meant.

“Mammon?”

Jarrod gave a single nod. “He watches his daughter, and waits for the right time to unleash her power. The darkness is growing thicker here. Don’t you sense it? The Nexus is ripe for breaking.” He lifted his head to scan the sky, breathing in deeply, as though he could scent the gathering evil in this place. Raum could only stare.

“Mammon’s daughter,” he said, struggling to reconcile the warm creature in his arms with the foul, grinning, glad-handing demon who had engineered his downfall. But it was so obvious, now that he looked: her unusual strength of mind, her power … she even had her father’s red hair, and the rare beauty that could only mark her as high demon. There was no nefari in her. Ember carried the blood of the Fallen … and it made her far more dangerous than Raum had ever thought.

“Why are you telling me this?” Raum asked hoarsely, his thoughts hopelessly tangled in the wake of this news. His kind rarely impregnated human women, who were almost always too fragile for such a thing to be possible. And yet of all the Fallen to have produced a creature with beauty, power and a coveted, indestructible soul …

Mammon. His mortal enemy. Her father …

“I told you because you treated a human life as though it had value. It seems only right that I help you retain yours.” Jarrod took two steps back, then offered a lopsided smile. “You surprise me, Raum. Do yourself a favor and get the seraphim here, then take Ember Riddick where Mammon can’t find her until Nexus has been sealed. Leave the fighting to the angels and demons.”

“But I am a demon,” Raum protested.

Jarrod cocked his head at him, still wearing his half smile. “Are you?”

“Wait,” Raum began, holding out one stillsmoking hand to stop him. But it was no use.

In the irritating manner of all ethereal beings, the Reaper had already gone.

And Raum was left in the darkness with nothing but the steady sound of Ember’s beating heart.

Chapter 5

When it hit, the goblet shattered the looking glass into a thousand pieces.

“Hellfire!”

Mammon’s roar filled the Chamber of Glass, echoing off the infinite mirrors of all shapes and sizes that covered walls soaring upward into infinity and beyond sight. He hovered in the air for a moment longer, the enormous black wings that sprang from his back holding him steady, and stared at the shattered glass where only a moment before his daughter’s face had been.

He had come here to gloat over his progress with her, to toast himself with the finest wine Hell could offer. A handful of the Fallen nobility had sired children with humans over the centuries, but half-breeds truly of the blood were rare. And none, Mammon knew, compared to his Ember. She was a beauty, of course, with his fiery hair, his perfect features. But more importantly, she had such potential, such power, and with the strength to keep it from driving her mad.

An unexpected gift, a key to tear open the Nexus and wreak Hell on the unsuspecting human world. It had been far too long. But he and the Council had had years to plan their next, greatest assault. And with him, the perfect guide to stoke the darkness within her, Ember would soon be commanding legions of her own.

Mammon had never seen her equal in an eternity littered with insane half-breed offspring whose violent natures had little intellect to hone them. Ember was the fruit of a one-night dalliance born of boredom, with a pregnancy as the surprising result. Even more surprising was that Dina Riddick, judgmental whore that she’d been, had managed to carry the tempestuous little brat to term. From a distance he’d watched, interested despite himself in the only child he had ever sired. Still, Mammon had expected little Ember—a name he himself had selected and pushed into Dina’s mind, though the woman still hated it—to be nothing more than a tool, a toy to be quickly used up and thrown away. Good for a single burst of horrific violence, perhaps. But Ember had surprised him as he’d visited her dreams, watched her grow.

So in her sleep, he began to train her. Even now, un sure as she was, his daughter had a great deal more ability than she was consciously aware of. And one day, he decided, when Hell on Earth became a reality, she would sit at his side. His demon child, made immortal. And she with a soul, that precious gift that could never be destroyed, not even in the fiery river Phlegethon that would turn angel and demon alike into nothing but dust. She was perfection. The perfect embodiment, as he was, of beauty and death. No she-demon had ever risen so high. And she was his.

Until that wretched traitor had swept in and run off with her, that was. He had seen it, watched with impotent fury as the nefari set to guard Ember had turned on her as soon as Raum had burst in. Raum, with his precious Ember in his arms, vanishing into the night, cloaked in the protection of his kind that made it impossible for Mammon to see where he had taken her … his daughter, with the bastard’s unworthy hands on her!

Filthy traitor, fit only to burn.

The Prince of Avarice gave one more furious snarl before he descended to the ground, his boots touching down gently on the marble floor. He folded his wings behind him, then whirled and stalked from the room.

“No,” he growled, heading for the Throne Room. “I will not have it. I will not allow it. She is mine.”

As he walked, his scattered thoughts of vengeance began to coalesce into a plan of attack. A thin smile curved Mammon’s lips, and with great relish, he began to plot in earnest. The wheels for the final triumph had finally been set in motion. Ember, his Ember, was only the beginning. He would get her back, he soothed himself. She would break the Nexus wide-open, and this invasion would make the last one seem like child’s play. The Balance would never recover.

But first, it seemed he would have to show one foolish prodigal Fallen angel what happened when you tried to steal from one of your own.

It was always better to rule in Hell, even if that rule ended with the soulless death that awaited them all, than to serve the Light. Raum had forgotten that lesson, it seemed.

It would be a pleasure to refresh his memory.

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