Wicked Edge (7 page)

Edge didn’t believe her I’m–just–a–poor-confused-human act. She was faking it. He might not allow himself any real emotions anymore other than the inconvenient lust he was feeling now—not that lust really counted because it was merely a physical reaction—but he recognized true emotion in others. “I’ve answered your questions, now I have one of my own.”

“What?” Wariness replaced panic in her gaze.

“I heard your conversation with Ganymede a few minutes ago. So what are
you
?”

“I’m not an angel. I. Am. Human. Ganymede is deranged.” She breathed deeply and then took a sharp right turn in the conversation. “So you’ve killed people for thousands of years?”

“Yes.”

Silence. She seemed to be waiting for him to soften his “yes,” drop in a few qualifiers. He didn’t.

Something moved in her gaze. Disappointment? Horror? Disgust? All of the above? He didn’t give a damn what she thought of him.

“Let’s get back to you and the angel thing. I might not be a Ganymede fan, but if he thinks you’re not human, then you’re not. He doesn’t make mistakes like that.”

“Why don’t you like Ganymede?”

“He’s an arrogant dickhead.”

“Got it.” She stood. “You can leave now.”

He noticed that she wasn’t already on her way down to the registration desk to check out. That would be the normal reaction for a human. And Ganymede was right. Over the thousands of years of his existence, he’d met a few angels. They’d all recognized him for what he was and tried to destroy him. They’d all failed. He smiled at the memories.

“You think this is funny? A normal person pays to stay at your hotel and then they’re assaulted by…talking cats and accused of being angels? This is a hoot to you?” Anger colored her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. “I think you and your fiends, uh, friends, need to make a group appointment at the nearest mental health facility.”

He couldn’t help it, he grinned. How long had it been since a human really amused and fascinated him? Edge couldn’t remember. “An angry angel. Love it. You should stay mad. It’s hot.”

She blinked. “What?”

He waved his comment away. “Never mind.” He stood. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” He allowed himself the pleasure of imagining her in her bed, her long pale hair spread over her pillow, her hand stroking his…

Okay, moment of pleasure over. He headed for the door. “I’ll send someone right up with a new key.”

His last glimpse of her before he closed the door behind him was of her watching him from those beautiful eyes. However, the calculating gleam in those eyes wasn’t quite so gorgeous. He smiled. That was fine with him. He liked scheming women. They were never boring.

He’d only taken a few steps toward the stairs when it hit him.

The killing cold dropped him to his knees, tore at his mind with clawed fingers.
Kill Ganymede.
Each word was a steel spike pounded into his brain. This wasn’t hot rage. This was an icy compulsion that froze all thought. He gasped for breath as he felt his control oozing out through the holes in his head. There had to be holes. Nothing could hurt this much unless there were holes.

Edge fought to hold on to all that he’d become over the centuries. He wouldn’t regress to the ravenous beast he’d been in his early years, a mindless killer. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. But this time he couldn’t stop the force driving him to kill, couldn’t hold on to the last few strands of reason slipping away.

“Are you sick, dear?”

The woman’s voice wavered with age, trembling with concern. He opened his eyes.

Very old, with a halo of white hair surrounding a face creased with wrinkles. Her eyes were shadowed by worry.

“Can I get someone to help you?”

“Get away from me.” He didn’t even recognize the savage snarl as his. An icy film slowly crawled across his vision as he rose to his feet.
Kill.

•   •   •

Passion leaned her back against the closed door and drew in a deep calming breath. It didn’t work. Panic still gripped her.

Death.
How did she begin dealing with him, with any of them? She didn’t handle these kinds of…people. She worked with the small stuff—comforting, guiding the unsure toward the right decisions. All of which she did from the safety of her home. No face–to–face confrontations, just soothing strokes and whispers into troubled minds. Troubled
human
minds. She did
not
take on the physical manifestation of death. Passion didn’t have the power to go mano a mano with Edge or Ganymede. Right now, she didn’t have
any
power.

For a moment, an image of the virgin lying on the landing, her neck twisted at an impossible angle, flashed in her memory. No, she hadn’t brought her back to life. That was ridiculous. The woman obviously hadn’t been dead. With only her human senses, Passion couldn’t be sure about when someone was really gone. She shoved the image aside.

She felt nauseous. Not a physical reaction she’d ever experienced before. Confusion and fear tore her stomach into tasty bits for her personal demons to snack on. They took time out from their partying to remind her that she was way out of her league here, and to suggest that if Ted wanted to get rid of her—after all, she was a major thorn in his mighty butt—this would be an excellent way to do it.

What were her options? She could try to do what she was sent here to do—work with her limited skills to turn those at the castle away from evil and let Hope send nightly reports back to home base. Or…she could fill Hope in on the full scope of the horror here and have her send for the avenging angels.

Passion would be off the hook. The avenging angels would
destroy Edge, Ganymede, and Bain—maybe Sparkle could be saved—and that would be that.

A tiny cowardly voice in her mind shouted, “Let’s hear it for the avenging angels.” Her boring cubicle waiting back in her boring office with her boring boss waiting to give her more boring assignments was looking pretty good right now.

But it felt wrong on a whole bunch of levels. She’d be branded a failure, not able to cope with her assignment, a whiner who ran for help at the first sign of trouble.

Whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo—Passion closed her eyes and fought back her rising hysteria.

One truth rose above her mental chaos. She didn’t want to see Edge destroyed, and that didn’t make a bit of sense. He was an abomination, but…She opened her eyes. She felt like she was drowning in emotions after an existence without any. Is this what she’d wanted to experience as a human? It wasn’t as much fun as she’d expected.

The pounding on her door interrupted her thoughts. Someone couldn’t be here with her key that quickly. Turning, she opened the door.

An old woman stood with her fist raised, ready to start pounding again. “Please, get help. There’s something wrong with that man.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’m so upset that I can’t find my cell phone to do it myself.”

Passion looked past the woman to see Edge striding toward the stairs. “Edge?”

He paused, and then slowly turned to face her.

She instinctively stepped back. What stared at her had no relation to the man who’d just left her room. His eyes glowed, and Death lived in his stare. No recognition showed in those eyes.

“What happened?” Passion was proud that her voice didn’t shake. “Where are you going?”

Those sensual lips lifted in a smile so evil it made her gasp.

“To kill Ganymede.” Turning away, he disappeared down the stairs.

Ohmigod. She had to stop him. Passion rushed out into the hallway. “No. Wait. Don’t do this.” Panicked, she looked around. The old woman still stood by her door. “Go into my room and call the desk. Tell them to get…” Who? She couldn’t ask them to page the cat. “Never mind.”

The woman looked confused and frightened, but Passion couldn’t worry about her now.

She raced down the stairs and into the great hall. Then she searched frantically among the milling crowd for someone she recognized. There, by the courtyard door. Dacian, Holgarth, and Hope stood talking. For once the other angel didn’t look happy. Passion pushed her way through the costumed actors to reach them.

“Where’s Ganymede and Edge? We have—”

“What we
have
is a situation.” Holgarth pursed his thin lips. “Our stand–up comedian here”—he offered Hope a toxic glare—“made everyone laugh so hard that one of our customers flung back his head and cracked it on the stone wall. The ambulance just left. As soon as he wakes up, I’m sure the first words out of his mouth will be, ‘Call my lawyer.’ And then to end a perfect evening, my evil vampire hasn’t shown up. Again.” He slanted a speculative glance at Passion. “Perhaps you’d care to reprise your role as the vampire’s evil mate? Of course, you’ll have to make sure nothing unfortunate happens this time.”

“Me?” She bit back her retort. Well, almost. “I hated the fantasy. Besides, it doesn’t matter now.
You
play the evil vampire’s mate. The wig is in the dressing room.”

Holgarth looked as though she’d stabbed him in his shriveled little heart. Too bad.

There went her charity. She wondered what angelic quality she’d shed next.

“Edge is looking for Ganymede. He says he’s going to kill him. We have to find Ganymede first. Where is he?” Her heart jackhammered in her chest, fear wrapped sharp fingers around her throat and squeezed. She ignored Hope’s gasp.

Angels were supposed to be impartial, unemotional.
You. Are. A. Failure.
She wasn’t even close to impartial. Passion was terrified for Edge. Not that she wanted to see Ganymede die, but dread for him wasn’t what made it hard for her to breathe right now.

Dacian and Holgarth exchanged glances, and then Dacian spoke. “I’ll search.” He flung open the courtyard door and was gone.

That wasn’t helpful. She wanted to search too, but she needed someplace to start. Passion skewered Holgarth with her fiercest glare, which probably wasn’t very fierce. She’d have to practice her human facial expressions.
“Where?”

“Murder? We have to stop it. Uh, who is Edge?” Hope looked bewildered but energized.

The wizard studied Passion for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. “Sparkle will be in her candy store this time of night. Ganymede might be there. Sweet Indulgence is on the right as you leave the park.”

Passion turned to follow Dacian.

Holgarth put his hand on her arm, and the surge of power rippling across her skin surprised her. Maybe there was more to him than just some snarky old actor wearing a wizard costume.

“If they fight, run as fast as you can as far as you can.” He dropped his hand from her arm.

Well, that sounded ominous. Passion turned away from him and flung herself out the still-open door. She ran toward the park’s entrance. Hope was right on her heels.

“It would be great if you explained things to me. We’re supposed to be partners.” Hope was breathing hard between each word. “And you were pretty ugly to Holgarth. I don’t think Archangel Ted would—”

“Screw Ted. We have to stop them from killing each other.”

Hope was either struck speechless by the ferocity of Passion’s attack on Ted or she didn’t have any breath left, because she didn’t say anything else.

Passion was sucking wind by the time she raced out of the park and saw the sign for Sweet Indulgence. If she stayed here long, she’d have to work out. Only the avenging angels did much to stay in shape.

Passion stopped in front of the shop’s door, and a few seconds later, Hope joined her. Thankfully, Hope was too busy gulping air to say anything.

Someone had drawn a shade over the glass door and put a
CLOSED
sign up. But a light was on inside, and Passion could hear voices. She tried to listen past her labored breathing.

A shrill scream from inside reached her. Female. Passion didn’t try to analyze the tone. A scream was a scream. Suddenly, Dacian appeared beside her. She couldn’t stop her startled yelp. How did he move that silently?

“Edge isn’t anywhere in the castle.”

“Someone inside just screamed.” She raised her hand to ring the bell.

“Too slow.” Dacian narrowed his gaze on the door, and it exploded inward.

Whoa. Passion took an involuntary step back. Hope found enough breath to shriek. Luckily, no one else was on the street.

Passion followed Dacian into the store and then froze. Oh, crap.

Sparkle sprawled across a large display counter. Chocolates, jelly beans, and gummy bears, along with her four-inch stilettos, littered
the floor. Her long red hair spread like flame across the counter. She didn’t look frightened. She looked…

This was embarrassing. Passion shifted her attention to the man who’d been leaning over Sparkle. He’d straightened to stare at them.

Tall, shirtless, muscular with broad shoulders, he wore a scowl that made her want to turn and slink away. She got an impression of worn jeans tucked into calf-high boots and a black T–shirt lying on the floor at his feet.

She widened her eyes as she took a good look at his face. Wow, beautiful but frightening. The face of a fallen angel, not that she’d ever seen one. And that face was framed by thick blond hair that skimmed his shoulders. Wait, there was something about his eyes…But Passion’s attention wandered from his eyes as she got a look at the blackness swirling around him. Another irredeemable one? What were the chances of there being so many in one spot?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice suggested that bad things happened to people who blew in his door.

Dacian raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Sorry, Ganymede. Passion said Edge was on his way to kill you. Both of you are dumbasses for locking me out of your minds. I couldn’t warn you, and I couldn’t find him. Then Passion heard a scream.” He shrugged.

“Of ecstasy, dear, all ecstasy.” Sparkle slid the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip as she stared up at the man above her.

“Ganymede?” It couldn’t be. That gorgeous man couldn’t be the pudgy gray cat she’d met outside the castle.

“Watch it, babe. Pudgy gray cats have feelings too.”