Chapter Nine
It took longer than Hawk wanted to put down the
threat to his endangered Primori, a member of the Demonic Activity Response
Team, whom he’d been guarding since he was born. Jake Biemer had originally
joined The Aegis, a demon-slaying organization, following a stint in the navy.
But a few years ago, when The Aegis took a new, radical stance he didn’t like,
he’d joined the other Aegis defectors to start DART. Now the guy spent his time
investigating demonic activity that put him in danger all the time. Fortunately,
Hawk only had to respond to dangers that were somehow not fated to happen.
Seemed like ever since the near-apocalypse
several years ago, non-fated danger happened far more than it ever had.
And Hawk wasn’t the only one who noticed. Most of his
Memitim brethren had complained of the same thing. It was as if the glue that
held all the laws of nature together had started to dissolve, leaving weak
spots everywhere. Even Sheoul-gra’s Inner Sanctum where the souls were kept
wasn’t immune. Azagoth and Hades had been dealing with cracks in the
containment walls that hadn’t been there before.
And naturally, no one in Heaven would offer any
explanations.
It was one of the reasons Hawk couldn’t wait to Ascend. He
wanted to get answers and then he wanted to share those answers with his
brothers and sisters. He wanted to make life better for Memitim, and better for
the decent people they protected. To be included on the Memitim Council was his
goal, and dammit, he would reach it.
But that wasn’t going to happen if he failed to keep a
Primori safe. Even the pieces of shit like Drayger.
Crisis averted, Hawk said goodbye to Cipher and his brothers
and headed back to Underworld General. He didn’t have a plan for Aurora yet—he
only knew he had to convince her not to go to the police.
“Hey, I know the guy tortured you and was planning to
kill you slowly, but really, is forgiving and forgetting too much to ask?”
Yeah, that was going to go over real
well.
In what was becoming a routine, he flashed himself to the
hospital, entered through the ER doors from the parking lot, and approached the
reception desk.
“Can I help you?” The chick at the reception desk looked at
him with beady, unblinking eyes.
“I’m here to see Aurora Mercer. She was admitted yesterday.”
The demon tapped a few keys on her computer keyboard. “I’m
sorry, but she’s been released.”
“What? When?”
“Three hours ago.”
“Three hours?” Drayger could have her again by now. “What
the hell? Why didn’t anyone notify me?”
She scowled at the screen. “Did you leave contact
information?”
“Yes.”
“Did you leave instructions to be notified of any change in
her status?”
Shit. He’d taken off too quickly to even think about that.
“Ah, no.”
She smiled sweetly. “Then apologize for yelling at me or
kindly fuck off.”
“You know, your staff’s reputation for rudeness is
legendary, but that was almost pleasant.”
“Doctor Eidolon asked us to be nicer.”
Hawkyn doubted that “be nicer” meant that the staff was
supposed to smile while telling people to fuck off, but whatever.
“Oh, well, then I apologize, and I’ll be sure to tell
Eidolon that you’re making a great effort.”
Ignoring her legitimately dubious snort, he went out to the
parking lot and flashed himself to Aurora’s house, thankful he’d scoped it out
earlier, or he’d have had to waste valuable time finding it.
He materialized in front of the house, his shadow wings
deployed and keeping him invisible to all but other
Memitim.
It was late afternoon in Portland, the sun hidden behind a
thick layer of low clouds. The damp ground smelled like dirt and moss, but he
also caught a whiff of something sweet from the bakery down the block. Aurora
lived in a nice neighborhood, one that was probably considered safe.
He moved down her narrow walkway toward the front steps and
her tiny brick-colored porch, which was barely large enough for the two small
chairs and folding table she’d put there. He could have materialized inside her
house, but that would be rude. And stalker-y. Plus, given the trauma she’d
already endured, it would be a serious asshole move that would probably terrify
her.
He’d just ring the doorbell.
How quaint.
Aurora knew she shouldn’t be at her house, given that
a serial killer had her address and would almost certainly try to silence her.
But she didn’t have anywhere else to go where she wouldn’t put friends and
family in danger. What she did have was an arsenal of mystical weapons and
deterrents, and she’d gathered just enough energy from the hospital staff to
deploy them.
The nice werewolf lady named Runa who escorted her home had
unintentionally provided a strong surge of power when she’d given her a hug,
allowing Aurora’s palm to linger on her back. Runa wouldn’t miss the stolen
energy, but it had gone a long way toward filling Aurora’s empty well.
In any case, she didn’t plan to be in danger for long. She
was going to the police as soon as she could come up with a plausible story for
her escape and lack of injuries. After all, Underworld General’s medical staff
had done an amazing job of healing her. During the long, hot shower she’d taken
within seconds of getting home, she’d noticed that the scar on her thigh was
barely noticeable, and all the other bruises, cuts, and abrasions were gone
entirely. A demon dentist had even fixed the tooth the bastard had nearly
knocked out.
The microwave dinged, announcing
that her mac and cheese was ready. What she wouldn’t
give for a good plate of homemade pasta—not that she could cook worth a
damn—but she was exhausted and would just have to settle for frozen stuff from
a box. At least it was organic.
Inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of cheesy goodness, she
headed toward the kitchen but without warning, the hair on the back of her neck
stood up. Her protective ward had triggered.
A split second later, she heard the deep voice that had
filled her ears during her dreams.
“What the fuck?”
Oh, shit. She ran to the window and pulled back the cheery
yellow curtains that perfectly matched the floral pattern on her steel blue
sofa. And there, standing motionless, arms pinned to his side on her doorstep,
was the man—no, the angel—who had saved her life.
She didn’t bother to slip on shoes. She scrambled to open
the door and nearly tripped over her own bare feet in her haste to get outside.
“Hey,” Hawkyn said through clenched teeth. “Nice security
system you’ve got here. Could do without the electrical current frying my
insides, though.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t meant for you.” She closed her eyes
and concentrated on the low-level vibration emanating from the trap she’d set.
An invisible thread of energy, much like a power cord, stretched from her to
the protective bubble around the house, and with a whispered command,
“Rojalis,” it snapped.
Instantly, Hawkyn relaxed, taking in
gulps of air, his broad chest heaving under his black turtleneck and leather
jacket. He was magnificent, his long, lean thighs encased in dark jeans that
bunched around well-used combat boots. She never would have guessed he was an
angel, but it was a good look, and despite the horror of the past days, her
body grew uncomfortably warm.
Damn her succubus genes.
“That was unpleasant,” he said in a deep, husky voice that
turned up the temperature even more, “and I’m an angel. What the hell
would happen to a human who got caught in your trap?”
“A good human?” She shrugged. “Nothing. The trap was
calibrated for evil.” She paused, an icy finger of fear poking her in the
libido, and she took a casual step back in case she needed to slam the door in
his face. “Um, if you’re an angel, why would it snare you?”
“Long story. Doesn’t matt--”
“Don’t,” she broke in with a wag of her finger. “Don’t even
go there. It does matter, and I want an answer.”
One blond eyebrow arched high, and she suspected he wasn’t
used to being cut off.
“Okay, short story it is.” He jammed his hands in his jacket
pockets. “My dad is evil. Sort of.”
Well, that wasn’t expected. “Isn’t your dad, uh, God?”
“No.”
“All right, then. I have a lot to learn.” She gestured in
invitation. “Want to come in? Do you need permission?”
One corner of his mouth tipped up in amusement. “I’m an
angel, not a vampire from some campy movie.” His voice, just like at the
hospital, was so whiskey smooth she thought she could get drunk from merely
listening to him.
“Well, you do have fangs,” she pointed out, feeling
a little foolish.
He chuckled, but his boots didn’t make a sound on her
hardwood floors as he walked inside, surprising from such a large male. She
closed the door behind him and reached deep for her power, but now that the
trap had been triggered and shut down, she didn’t have enough left to set it
again. Well, she supposed that if worst came to worst, the angel standing in
her living room would be adequate protection from the psychopath who’d tried to
kill her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were released from the
hospital.” He swung around to her, more muscle and hotness than had ever been in her home. “I assume you took a
Harrowgate home?”
“Yes,” she said, without elaborating. He didn’t need to know
that her people couldn’t see, and therefore use, Harrowgates like normal
underworlders could. That little tidbit of info could stay between her and
Runa, who had been able to use the Harrowgate to get Aurora from New
York to Portland in a matter of seconds. “And it’s perfectly fine that you
weren’t there. You aren’t my caretaker.” She maneuvered around him to get to
the kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink or anything?”
“No, thank you.” He followed her, his presence making her
six hundred square foot home feel even more like a shoebox than it already did.
“How are you doing?”
As long as she didn’t think about
what had happened to her, she was A-okay. “I’ll be better once I go to the
police.”