Fallen Angel of Mine (3 page)

Why in the hell was Mr. Gray sending
his toy soldiers after me? What reason could he possibly have for
causing such a spectacle? I didn't have time to think about it. I
had to move.

I rolled to my knees and staggered
upright. Every movement sent fresh stabs to my insides, tiny
daggers wielded by wicked little pain fairies, the evil kin of
sleep fairies. My vision faded at the edges, dissolving into
static.

"Stupid gray bastards," I muttered
through clenched teeth.

Without a word, or even an indication
that they'd heard or understood me, they blurred
forward.

I turned to run and yelped with
surprise at a massive, drooling muzzle inches from my face. A
gigantic hellhound, tall as my chest, blocked my way. Two more
hellhounds sprang from behind bushes on either side of me. I was
boxed in. Dead meat. The golems didn't seem to care or notice. They
rushed full steam ahead.

Since I couldn't fly, I stopped,
dropped, and rolled. My broken ribs gouged my insides like a meat
grinder. But it worked. The first golem, running too fast to adjust
course on the slick forest bed of pine needles, tripped over me.
Smacked face-first into Gigantor, the oversized
hellhound.

The hound's jaws clamped around the
golem's waist and bit it clean in half, teeth shearing through fake
flesh and metal bones like tin foil. The other hounds pounced on
McPulperson and pal, tearing them to tiny gray shreds. The torso of
the first golem pulled itself toward me by its hands. It reached
for my ankle. Gigantor sank its teeth into the arm and wrenched it
off with a savage jerk of its head. Then it leaned down. Sniffed
the still-wriggling golem and, almost daintily nipped off the
thing's head and spat it out on the ground.

Good news: The golems were dead. Bad
news: I was surrounded by hellhounds. In my current condition, I
wasn't outrunning a pack of demonic hounds. So I opted for the next
best thing. Sweet-talking.

"Good boy," I said, reaching a very
tentative hand toward the hound's lean, almost Doberman-like head.
I wondered how long, if ever, it would take my arm to grow back
once this thing bit it off.

It bared sharp canines and growled a
deep rumbling basso, yellow eyes burning.

I backed away. "Take me to your
leader?" My voice sounded distant and thick. I wondered if my
healing abilities were overwhelmed from the trauma I'd
suffered.

A small black ball of fur darted
between the massive hound and me. It hissed and spat, fur standing
on end to make it look bigger than it was. I stared in horror as
Nightliss, the little cat I'd rescued from a slobbering dog at a
dumpster not so long ago rawred and advanced on the creature
towering over her like a giant. How had she found me? What in the
hell was going on? It was like watching a crazy, surreal dream
unfold right before my eyes. Then again, it could have been a
hallucination thanks to brain trauma caused by McPulperson punching
me in the face.

The hound's growl turned into an
uncertain whine and it backed away, shaking its head in confusion
and glancing at its pack mates who still surrounded us.

"Nightliss, no!" I scooped her up and
cradled her to my chest. "Are you trying to get yourself
eaten?"

Nightliss glared at me with angry green
eyes. She meowed and struggled against my arms, setting off more
agony in my snapped ribs. I set her down, expecting her to run.
Instead, her body seemed to melt and flow, expanding until a very
familiar and very naked girl stared at me with those same green
eyes.

My mouth dropped open. "You? You're
Nightliss? Who—what are you?" This was the same mystery girl who'd
helped me save Stacey after hellhounds nearly killed her and showed
up to help me carry Elyssa from an alley after gray men attacked us
in the Grotto. This couldn't be happening. Then again, only weeks
ago, I would have thought none of this possible. Hellhounds,
golems, vampires, demon spawn like me—all real.

And this girl was every bit as adorable
as her cat form.

Nightliss brushed long, dark hair from
her face and smiled. One of the hounds growled and advanced. She
turned and gave it a furious glare, more cute than scary,
considering she stood maybe five-feet tall. The hound whined and
retreated, circling back and forth as though uncertain what to do
next.

"Hi," she said, and kissed me on the
nose.

"Hi?" Though petite, Nightliss
possessed womanly curves, beckoning my eyes to stare. But a storm
of questions overwhelmed my teenage hormones and incubus instinct.
Who was this woman? Was she a felycan like Stacey?
"Who—"

"Who are you to interfere in my
business?" said a cold, angry voice with a British-tinted, Russian
accent. The owner of the voice, a tall woman with flowing crimson
hair and matching eyes, pushed past one of the hounds and planted
herself in front of the diminutive woman.

The girl responded in a strange melodic
language and the redheaded woman's eyes flared in either disbelief
or outright surprise.

"Kassallandra," I said,
unable to stop staring at the succubus my father refused to marry.
She wore a slinky red dress hugging tight against her curves. A
pair of expensive-looking platform heels accented smooth, fair
calves, adding a bit more
oomph
to her curvy rear end. This woman was smoking hot
in more than one sense but looked completely out of place in the
woods.

She planted both fists on her hips and
raised her glare to me. "I am Anae Kassallandra to you, Castratae.
You would do well to remember your place rather than sully me with
your words."

"Ooh, I guess your poop doesn't stink,"
I said, unable to keep the petty retaliation off my tongue.
According to Elyssa, spawn adhered to a strict social caste system.
Since I was half-human and half-spawn, not to mention the son of an
outcast, that pretty much damned me to the lowest of the low, the
Castratae, whereas Kassallandra was almost as far up the chain as
spawn could go.

Kassallandra ignored my response.
Looked back at Nightliss whose olive skin and dark hair seemed a
stark contrast to the snow-skinned woman with flaming red
hair.

Kassallandra hurled what sounded like a
heated question in the strange tongue at Nightliss. The girl
responded, the melodic language flowing from her throat like
lilting music on the air. I found myself lulled to peace by her
voice and shook my head to clear the fog. The hounds seemed
mesmerized, their great yellow eyes growing unfocused, tongues
lolling as Nightliss spoke. The redhead threw several more
sentences in the foreign tongue at her opposite, though her accent
didn't have the same clarity.

Whatever they were talking about didn't
seem to be going anywhere.

"Can someone translate for me?" I
asked.

They both looked at me. Turned back to
each other and kept on talking. I took a deep breath and, for the
first time since being thrown from the truck, a pleasant but
somewhat itchy tingle spread through my battered ribs. Apparently,
my wounds were healing. I traced my bones to make sure they hadn't
somehow reattached themselves all crooked, but aside from a little
mushiness, they felt normal. As the pain subsided, the toll from
the trauma settled into my body. My muscles felt like lead. I'd
need to feed soon, and what my demonic nature desired couldn't be
satisfied with a burger and a super-sized order of
fries.

Nightliss shouted a single word at
Kassallandra and shook her head. Tears pooled in her huge eyes. An
almost sympathetic look crossed the redhead's face and she touched
the smaller woman's bare shoulder. Said something in a comforting
tone. Nightliss nodded slowly and looked at me, the tears trickling
down her cheeks.

She walked over, pressed her hands to
my cheek, my lips, and ran her fingers through my hair. I stood in
dumbfounded confusion. Then she kissed my lips and
sighed.

"I cannot," she said in a tearful
whisper.

"Can't what?"

She sniffled. "Interfere."

Kassallandra said something else in the
strange language.

Nightliss scowled. "Have hunger?" she
said in a whisper, concern tightening the corners of her large
eyes.

I nodded. "Famished." I almost expected
her to tell me to eat more chicken.

Her lips pursed like those of a
rebellious child. She pressed her lips to mine. Warmth flooded me,
running from my lips to my toes. It felt amazing, like a flush of
warm hot chocolate taking away the chill of a lonely winter night.
Nightliss cast an angry look at Kassallandra and blurred away into
the forest.

I stood for one stunned moment as the
needle on my demonic gas tank pinged full. How had she done that? I
hadn't fed from her—at least not in the usual way. Kassallandra's
stern gaze pulled me from my thoughts. Anger replaced confusion.
"Where is she going?" I asked. "What did you say to her? What the
hell is going on?"

"Where is Daevadius?" Kassallandra shot
back, ignoring my questions.

"My father?"

"Not only did he dishonor me and my
family, but he insulted us by bearing a child with a human!" She
shuddered, her lips peeled back from her teeth in
revulsion.

My fists tightened, though I didn't
dare advance on this succubus diva with her pets shaking off their
Nightliss-induced trance. "Well, whoopty-friggin-doo! Maybe you
need to get over yourself, lady. My dad followed his heart instead
of your nasty, incestuous customs." Though, considering how hot
Dad's sister, Vallaena, and Kassallandra were, I could kind of see
the appeal of mating with relatives.

Did I really just think
that? Gross!

Anger flared in her crimson irises as
her pupils shrank to pinpricks. "His dishonor forced this course of
action upon me, Castratae. I was unaware of you until the day I
tracked him down."

"The day your pets chased us all over
creation?" I glared at the largest of the hounds. I remembered him
now, how he and his buddies had run us through the gauntlet. If he
weren’t so huge and scary, I'd beat him like a rented mule. "I
don't know what you hoped to gain from attacking us."

"I went there to talk with him. To make
him see the course of redemption. But you ran like frightened
children."

"And you sicced your hounds on us?" I
took a step forward and a growl like thunder rumbled in the huge
hound's throat. "One of them almost killed my friend,
Stacey."

"I ordered no such
violence."

"Yeah? Well my werewolf friend killed
one of your puppies."

A red eyebrow shot up. "As you can see
all of my companions are just fine." She rested a hand on the large
one's massive head. "Who is this Stacey you speak of?"

"A felycan. Blonde, British, and
snarky. She lives—or lived—in some abandoned warehouses near my
house."

Kassallandra looked at the oversized
hound for a moment. He gazed fondly back at her, his great tail
wagging, and urine-colored eyes bright with puppy love. After a
moment, she shook her head. "Malkesh says they did no such thing.
But he did detect the scent of other hounds near your house some
time ago." Her perfect lip curled into a snarl. "Someone else is
interfering. Another of House Slade, no doubt, who wishes to
prevent Daevadius from redeeming his standing."

I considered this disturbing nugget of
information as doubt and distrust—not to mention old blood—left a
sour taste in my mouth. I couldn't be sure she was lying. And why
would she? Had another spawn already discovered where we lived even
before the ruckus yesterday morning?

"That still doesn't excuse their
behavior. They could have killed someone, rampaging through town
like Godzilla."

Her irises went from vivid red to
arctic frost. "Who do you think you are to challenge my
decisions?"

"You need to get off your high horse,
Kassallandra. If what you say is true and there's another spawn out
there trying to wreck your plans and kill my friends, we have
enemies in common. Just think, we could become best
frenemies."

She wrinkled her nose in
distaste. "We do not call ourselves
spawn
, you ignorant Castratae. It is a
derogatory term. We are Daemos." She sniffed. "Common enemies or
not, why would I ally myself with an abomination?"

I almost laughed, the anger evaporating
and turning into outright disbelief at the haughty nerve of this
woman. "Abomination? Ouch. Someone's manners are still stuck in
third grade."

"You
are
an abomination, child. Formed from
the loins of a cowardly traitor and a human."

I grinned. "Vallaena didn't have an
issue talking to me. I guess the women of House Slade are made of
stronger stuff."

Kassallandra pursed her rosebud lips,
the color in her eyes fading to a muted blue. "If Anae Vallaena
found you worthy to speak with, then I shall make an allowance as
well."

I already knew women were crazy, but
good lord! Spawn women had enough crazy to make other women look
sane.