Chapter Two
Angelica
V iktor might have been an ass, but he was determined, and I had no idea what his next move would be.
He knew I had extensive notes on the sundial, he might even know that I had map fragments for the location of the bowl, and there were few places I would have hidden those things. If he started with the most obvious, I was screwed. So I had to get to it first, which meant I was already behind.
I shoved clothes into a bag, cringing internally at all the wrinkles I’d have, but Derek would have an iron, and my wardrobe was the least of my concerns. My jet would be ready within the hour and the council had already granted me a leave of absence. They weren’t too thrilled with how I’d handled Nina, a young woman who had become a living artifact at the hands of the Protectors.
They had wanted to lock her up, study her, forgetting that they’d hired me to be opposite of Francesca. Really, what had they expected? I had negotiated for her release with some strict rules and she was now living happily in the same small town with her former bodyguard Darius, building a life together.
My hands stilled on my safe as an unexpected stab of envy hit me.
I’d had that dream once, when David and I were young and in love. I had believed that we could weather anything because we had each other. But our love hadn’t been enough to overcome the darkness that had grown like a cancer in his soul.
I could correct it…No. No matter what, David wouldn’t want that. Our children are happy, and that’s all he ever wanted.
I scrubbed the tears off my cheeks, ignoring the question pounding through my blood: What about my happiness?
I pricked my finger and pressed it to the blood seal, allowing the spell to draw the blood from my thumb and shuddered. The lock clicked and before I reached inside, I murmured the incantation to dispel the booby trap.
In the safe was the spell book I’d kept during my marriage to David. Every healing spell, exorcism, folk magic incantation, literally anything no matter how obscure that might have helped us fix what had broken, I’d written down in that grimoire. Including a series of complex protection spells.
The only thing it didn’t contain was the research we’d compiled for the sundial. That was locked away in David’s old safe, a mystically created box that I’d protected with three different, complex spells. The only record of which, was in the grimoire I held in my hands. It had seemed like a good idea to give the safe to Derek years ago instead of keep it for myself. Partly because the research was dangerous in the wrong hands, and partly because I didn’t want a constant reminder of David in my home.
I turned over the simple journal with its leather cover, softened with age. I hadn’t opened it in over a decade and it was odd how an ordinary object could hold so much emotion, so many memories. They drifted in and out of my mind like flies collecting on a corpse. Before I allowed them to gather too thickly, I buried the spell book in my bag under my clothes and zipped it up. The tension in my chest eased and I drew in a long breath to refocus.
If I left now, I might be able to convince the pilot to leave right away if we were fueled up.
I was about to walk out of my bedroom when I realized there was one more thing I needed. Reaching inside the gun safe I had in my closet, I withdrew a present from my son Max’s girlfriend, Alexis: a gorgeous silver plated Sig Sauer with runes embedded on it that rendered any bullet a mystical weapon against Supernaturals.
The UK didn’t allow its citizens to carry firearms, so I’d had to obtain a special license through the Archive to own it at all. I slipped on the soft leather shoulder harness and secured the Sig into the holster, then pulled on a jacket that I hoped would conceal the gun enough. I slid a magazine into the Sig and then a few extras into my bag before zipping it up again.
I took one last look around my living room, the place where I’d spent the last four years attempting to make the world a better place. If I couldn’t stop Viktor, that world wouldn’t exist anymore. There were few I could trust with that knowledge, and none that I would put in the kind of danger this mission required. Even though I needed a little help from two of my sons in order to find the location of the bowl, there was no way I would let them get involved any further in this. I was on my own this time, as I had been for most of my life really.
David hadn’t been able to be the partner I’d needed because of the artifact that had infected him. Everyone here was either under my authority or someone who needed to believe that I could do this without any question.
Except…
Trey. He’d been the only one that I could rely on…maybe ever. But he’s not here now.
I straightened my shoulders, refusing to indulge in regret. It had been the right decision not to kiss him, to let him go, free and clear of any sense of obligation. With any luck, he was now mated to a pretty, young Dragon female who would give him a whole clutch of eggs. And that stab in my chest? Indigestion, maybe a bit of worry about the artifact. That’s it, nothing else.
Trey deserves a life, and this was a temporary stopover. That’s fine.
No use wishing for what I can’t have. I don’t even know where he went, no one does. So get it together, Dearborne. It’s up to you.
I nodded at myself, wishing my paltry pep talk had done anything except make me feel more alone. I hefted the bag onto my shoulder and locked up behind me as I stepped out into the small hallway between my penthouse and the private elevator. I pressed the button…and nothing happened.
It didn’t light up and the doors didn’t open.
I pressed it again and still nothing. The elevator had never broken down in the almost five years I’d lived here.
Until now.
My mind immediately went to the most obvious reason, maintenance. But I always received notice. The only other option then was that someone had wanted the elevator inoperable.
This building was secured by both Mundane and mystical means, so if someone sabotaged my elevator, they were skilled and likely magical.
I glanced at the emergency stair well and realized that it was the only way out of here. Which might be exactly what they wanted.
I opened the door slowly and listened for movement. There was nothing at first, just the hum of the lights and a strange echo that seemed to permeate the concrete of stairwells like this. But then, so faint that I almost missed it, was a footstep, the shuffling brush of fabric. It could be someone on the floor below me, could be that all the elevators were down and someone was just trying to get home, or a delivery was being made.
But my gut told me that if that were the case, the person wouldn’t be trying so hard to be silent.
I backed out and closed the door as quietly as possible, but the snip of the door latching seemed horribly loud. It was three steps to my penthouse, where I secured the door with the deadbolts and the runic magic that should stop most Supernaturals.
Unless they knew how to destroy runes.
My heart thudded in my chest, and my palms were getting damp. I was cornered but I wasn’t helpless.
I withdrew the Sig and readied the weapon before stowing the spare magazines in my pants pockets. Next, I pulled the strap of my bag over the opposite shoulder so the strap crossed my chest and slung the bulky thing behind me so I’d be unencumbered. The penthouse was far too open to provide much cover.
I could use the sofa, but the position isn’t right.
Without overthinking it, I shoved the sofa around until the back was facing the door, and then I maneuvered the chair next to it. If I had to, I could use the chair as cover while I moved toward my bedroom where I could activate a second set of protective runes. It might not give me much time, but it may be enough for Archive agents to come in and help. It was a desperate plan, but the only one I had.
With my eyes closed, I took two big breaths, and crouched on the floor in front of the couch, waiting to be attacked.
Nothing happened for what felt like the longest time. I continued to breathe and began to wonder if I’d been paranoid. Maybe I should go try the elevator again? Maybe it really had just been one of my neighbors in the stairwell.
But then something scratched against my door and a sizzling sound filled the air just before the tell-tale odor of ozone burned my nose.
It was a spell, and by the sound of it, a very powerful one.
Sparks flew as counter spell hit the protection runes on my door, and I could see them flare bright red. That meant that someone monitoring my Archive security would be alerted that there had been a breach at my penthouse. They should be scrambling agents right now.
But Viktor was crafty; he might’ve thought of that. He’d been two steps ahead of us this whole time as leader of the Protectors and now I knew why. A former Archive agent would know protocol, he’d know how we all thought.
So I’d have to think differently if I was going to survive this. I had to assume that he’d neutralized the agents that would come to my rescue and act accordingly.
The runes burned out with a pop that made my ears ache. Now a heavy object hit my door, straining the hinges. Over and over until the door shattered inward. Inside, I was shaking, my mouth dry as I convinced my muscles to move. I popped up and fired.
The Werewolf that stood in the destroyed doorway obviously thought he’d be impervious to whatever I had in my gun, even though it could’ve been silver. He gave me an arrogant grin before yelping in pain and falling to the floor from the two slugs I’d shot into his chest.
I didn’t stop to consider if he was dead, there wasn’t time. A man popped out from behind the Werewolf and began to raise his rifle. I clipped him in the arm before he could shoot and then fired again, hitting him center mass. I aimed at the next target and only proceeded in forcing the three figures back into the entry way as I shot three more times in their direction, no idea if I’d injured or simply scared them.
They had retreated around the doorway and I couldn’t get a clear shot, but if I could hold them to that position and pick them off if they attempted to come through, they might be intimidated into leaving.
It was a fool’s hope really; I knew that, but it was all I had so I went with it. I fired when one of the masked men peeked his head around the remnants of my door hanging off the hinges. From his scream, I must’ve hit something and I grinned. I had four more magazines in the bedroom in addition to the two in my pocket. It would have to be enough to drive them off.
I unloaded the current magazine toward the doorway, hoping it would cause them to fall back. I was just snapping the next one into place when the smell of ozone hit my nose again. Someone was about to cast a spell. I braced for whatever was coming but nothing happened.
When I jumped up and fired this time, the bullets pinged off the mystical shield the Witch had conjured, golden ripples cascading over the large shell in front of her and the two men behind her. They were all dressed in black with balaclavas on their faces. The two in the back raised their weapons and fired, and the projectiles sailed unhindered through the shield toward me. One of the bullets grazed my cheek and I fell onto the couch to gain cover.
This was a bad wrinkle. If my bullets couldn’t penetrate that shield…
Kneecaps. David always used to say no one ever thinks to protect their legs.
When I popped up this time, I aimed low for the first leg I saw to test if the shield extended that far. From the ear piercing screech of the man, I was guessing it did not. With a grin I focused my fire power lower, on their feet and knees. It was a smaller moving target and I wasn’t a good enough markswoman to hit every time, but I’d scared them, so they broke formation, exposing themselves in other ways. The Witch was protected by her spell, but the two men weren’t. The one I’d hit was on the floor hugging his leg, while the other one was attempting to get behind the Witch again. Trouble was, she was running for the door.
I let out a shaky breath of relief as I saw their defenses crumble.
Maybe I’ll get out of this alright after all .
All the times I’d brushed against death, all the moments I’d seen the tide turn against me and those I’d loved, and I obviously hadn’t learned not to celebrate too soon.
There was another burst of ozone in the room and then a crackling snap just as the heavy beat of wings pierced the night. From my doorway came another shield of magic, but this one was more encompassing and I saw that the attackers now had reinforcements. Two more Werewolves, the Witch from before, two more men in balaclavas and…
“Dahlia,” I gasped.
The former Director of the Archive, Francesca, had a daughter who had gone missing a few months after I’d cut Francesca’s head off.
And now she had just walked into my penthouse, spinning runes in front of her as she muttered incantations. I had no idea what spell that was, but from the way the hair on my arms was standing up I knew it couldn’t be good.
“Dahlia,” I called from my cover, “it’s Angelica!”
“I know who you are,” her voice was unnaturally cold. “You’re the woman who sliced my mother’s head from her body and left her to rot in an underground cavern.”
Shit…so it’s revenge she’s after. Viktor must’ve promised her the ability to get back at me, maybe with the sundial.
“Whatever it is that Viktor promised you, he’s a liar,” I said, the press of magic growing in the room.
“I know,” she said with a hollow chuckle, “but he’s the liar who is going to help me correct a terrible wrong.”
I was about to fall back to the bedroom when a heavy thud sounded from my balcony. My heart dropped as I slowly looked over and met the snarling gaze of a huge Gargoyle. He punched through the reinforced glass doors and let out a roar of anger.
“Take her alive if you can,” Dahlia ordered. “I’ll search the penthouse.”
Her runic spell burst out over the penthouse, the sparks taking out any other protection and locking spells.
I could deduce that Viktor wanted the journal that had all the notes for the sundial. He probably thought I’d keep it close because that’s what he’d do. And when he didn’t find it here, he’d go after each of my children, until he found it.
And that thought alone was enough to light a fire in my soul. I was warm all over, mind calm with determination. My children had earned their rest, and now this psychopath was going to steal what they’d built for themselves.
“Enough!” I screamed and jumped up, firing at Dahlia.
I intended to wound, not kill, when something massive barreled into me. I fell hard onto the floor in front of my fireplace, narrowly missing hitting my head on the marble. It was the Gargoyle, his heavy body pressed into mine, claws digging into my arms as he held me to the ground. The gun was still in my hand and I angled my hand toward him, firing a sloppy shot that still managed to hit the upper spine of his left wing.
He howled in agony, his grip loosening for a moment. I tried to raise the gun to fire point blank into his chest when he realized what I was about to do and slammed my hand down so hard that pain shot up my arm and my fingers released the gun. The pain distracted me from the fight for a precious few seconds. More than long enough for the Gargoyle to yank me up by the same arm that had the injured wrist.
I cried out and the room reeled.
At first I thought it was because of the pain, but then I saw that the Gargoyle wasn’t holding onto me any longer. In fact, he was across the room grappling with a huge, blue scaled Dragon.
Even with his back to me, I knew who it was.
“Trey,” I whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears.
He was wearing his hybrid Dragon form, a stunning mixture of his Mundane appearance and his primal Dragon form. He still had the tall, leanly muscled body, but now it was covered in blue scales that went from a blue so light they were almost silver on his chest, to a dark, midnight blue on the spikes going down the center of his head, and his back. If he had a tail in this form, I’d never seen it.
His face was more human than reptilian, with the same striking eyes, nose, and mouth as his Mundane form. He even had ears, though they were pointed. Instead of the deep brown eyes that I often found myself drowning in, they glowed blue and fiery. His hands had wickedly sharp dark talons, as did his feet, which were very much like a giant lizard. His lower body was covered in simple black pants but that was all he wore, the rest of him was bare, showing off his sculpted chest and stomach covered in hard planes of glistening scales .
I didn’t have the luxury of relief that he was here, or anger at how the hell he even knew I needed help in the first place. The Werewolves were advancing and I had seconds before they were on me.
I crouched down and picked up the gun with my left hand. I wasn’t as good with my less dominant hand, and I really did need two hands for this firearm, but if I could provide some cover fire, maybe that would give Trey enough time to fly us out of here.
I wounded one in the torso and he crumpled to the floor. His partner hesitated and I squeezed the trigger to take him out when once again I was tackled to the floor. But this time, instead of the Gargoyle, it was Trey.
He held me tight to his chest and enveloped me in a pair of leathery, sapphire blue and gold wings as gunfire erupted around us. The tendons of his neck stood out and his jaw was clenched tight as his body trembled with the impact of the bullets hitting him. Dragon skin was one of the toughest substances on the planet, but if they had spelled bullets there was a chance that he was still getting hurt.
This would’ve been the time to tell him how much I’d missed him, to thank him for saving my life, to check in that he wasn’t getting injured. Or at the very least, to strategize what our next move was.
But I’d been protecting myself for far too long to be that vulnerable with the one male on this planet who made me want to forget every reason why I couldn’t open myself up again.
So I did the only thing I could.
I bit his head off.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Well, hello to you…ugh….too.”
“Have you just been hanging around all these months, waiting for me to need you so you could swoop in and be the hero?”
“You know, most women would be grateful they’re not being kidnapped.”
“Well, most women also wouldn’t like being stalked.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” He cried out and grit his teeth hard.
“How long can you keep this up?” I asked, hating the edge of worry in my voice.
A louder shot rang out and he groaned.
“Long…enough.”
“Not if one of those bullets happens to find an opening in your scales.”
“I’m touched…you’re worried about me.” He gave me a strained grin.
I snorted.
“Hardly. I just don’t want to die.”
“I don’t want that either.”
Our faces were close out of necessity, which meant I saw the tenderness in his gaze when he said that, felt the warmth of his breath as it feathered around my face. He could still disarm me with a look, and make me feel safe just with a touch of his hand.
Or in this case, his entire body.
I swallowed, breathed through the pain in my wrist and forced my mind to focus. Oddly enough, Trey’s scales and hard muscle against me was far more distracting than my wrist.
“I’ve never seen your wings before,” I said, silently berating myself.
This really wasn’t the time to talk about how absolutely incredible he was.
I wasn’t sure if he gave me a grin or a grimace.
“I usually glamour them away, they can be cumbersome.”
“Is the Gargoyle neutralized?” I asked, forcing my mind back on track.
“I…I think he’s unconscious, hard to tell.”
“Alright,” I said, slipping into my authoritative voice that I used for agents, “this is what we’ll do. Let me out of this cocoon long enough to lay down some cover fire and then you can run for the balcony with me in your arms. Can you still fly?”
He studied my face, and I saw the battle in his eyes. For whatever reason, be it lust or something else, he felt the need to protect me down to his bones. But he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to withstand much more of this.
“Yes. I’ll open the left wing when— ”
His eyes bulged and flared a fiery blue as he bit back a groan.
“Trey?”
I loathed the terror that stabbed me in the gut at the sight of his pain. It had been a long time since I’d been scared for another person like this, and I hated him a little for that, even as I knew he was sacrificing himself to save me.
He might die…No…No, I’m not going to think of that or allow it.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
His eyes drifted to mine flaring with pain.
“We’re getting out of here, both of us. I won’t have your death on my conscious. Now, wait for them to reload, open your wing and I’ll fire at them. As I’m doing that, pick me up and run toward the balcony. You got that?”
He nodded, eyes shut tight as his body continued to take the full brunt of things.
“I need verbal confirmation, Agent,” I ordered.
That got a tired grin out of him and some of the fear gnawing at me was soothed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And to be clear,” I checked the magazine in the Sig, “we are not done talking about why you’re stalking me.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
I ignored what his purring voice did to my body and took a deep breath, centering myself beyond the fear and uncertainty. I focused on the gun in my hand, the runes warming on the sides.
“Okay,” I let out one long breath, “they should be needing to reload…now!”
He opened the top where his wings were touching, providing a tent like covering for us, and I sprang up at the same time he picked me up under my ass. In the back of my mind I wondered if he really needed to grip me there, but there were bigger issues at the moment.
Like the Werewolf, two Mundane males and one female standing where my door used to be.
I fired the entire clip at them, the bullets finding openings in the shield they’d constructed. But even so, I didn’t have great accuracy with my left hand. Add to that the fact that we were in motion and I only succeeded in wounding the males and nicking the Werewolf. Dahlia didn’t seem to be hit at all.
Just as the magazine was emptied, Trey’s chest rumbled with a roar and heat flared at my back. I heard what must’ve been the very much not unconscious Gargoyle let out a shriek of pure agony just before another flare of heat was expelled and then the crash of my balcony rail being shattered as the Gargoyle fell over in a flaming heap.
I dug the replacement magazine out of my pocket, grateful that I’d thought to put it there, and slammed it into place, ready to cover our retreat. My eyes met Dahlia’s and there was a flicker of warmth in those cold depths before she threw a small metal ball to the floor and ran out.
I looked down at the ball as Trey leaned against the metal frame of the shattered sliding glass door, catching his breath. It was blinking, the lights around the center of the ball starting to fade. Horror shot through me as I recognized the design of the mystical grenade.
“Get us out of here now!” I screamed.
Trey didn’t ask questions or argue. He bolted to the edge of the ruined balcony and dove off, holding me tighter than ever. I had a moment to scream when my stomach jumped into my throat as we fell, then I snapped against Trey’s hard, scaled chest when his wings flared out, catching the air and keeping us from plunging to our deaths. Barely a second later, my penthouse exploded in a torrent of fire and magic.