Page 4 of Semi-Reckless

Haven gave herself a sharp mental slap across the face. This wasn’t about Roan. This was about how she was going to keep him from ruining her investigation.

There it was. Another epiphany. Man, she was on fire today!

What she needed now was info, and only Lane would be able to give it to her.

Lane Hunter was as much a sister to Haven as her actual sister, Addy, was. Soul sisters. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time when Lane hadn’t been in her life. And for the time before she could actually remember, there were photos of the two of them sharing a playpen at Harper Hall Investigations while her parents and Lane’s looked on proudly.

It felt weird not telling Lane what she was thinking and what she was going through. But there was no way she was going to cock block (or was it clam jam?) her best friend on her honeymoon with the second hottest man Haven had ever seen.

Sadly, she did think Roan was hotter than Lane’s angel husband, Lucien. Not that she’d ever tell either of them that. What they didn’t know wouldn’t embarrass the shit out of her. That was her motto these days.

But none of that was relevant. What was relevant was that if anyone could help her now, it was Lane. She grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text.

Haven: How do I summon an angel?

She’d, of course, seen it done. That time when the entire wrath of heaven was ready to come down on Lane’s head was etched in her memory for life. But she hadn’t really been paying attention to the whole summoning bit. What she’d learned that day, and tucked away for future reference, was that she had a guardian angel named Carl who was responsible for keeping her alive long enough to fulfill her destiny. Whatever that was.

And even though she wasn’t supposed to talk to him, it wasn’t impossible. If there was anyone capable of stopping a demon from teleporting her around, it had to be an angel, right?

The three little telltale dots popped up on Haven’s phone, and a second later, there was her friend’s reply.

Lane: I’m almost afraid to ask…

Haven: It’s better if you don’t.

Lane: Whatever you’re doing, will you at least try to stay safe and call for backup if necessary?

Haven: Of course! I didn’t intentionally die that day, you know.

Lane: *eye roll emoji* Don’t you dare tell anyone this came from me. If asked, you say you remember it from last year. I will deny helping you. Got it?

Haven: *gif of a cartoon cat and mouse pinky swearing*

Lane typed faster than the speed of light, which meant Haven didn’t have to wait long for the instructions to come through. Which was good, because waiting patiently was not her strong suit.

Looking over the text, Haven started to get even more excited about her plan. This was doable. All of it. Even the oils and herbs she needed were right here in Section 8, and no one would miss them.

Haven: Thanks! I love you. Say hi to your hot angel hubby for me.

Lane: Love you too, babe. And I will. *heart emoji*

Time to summon a guardian angel.

This was going to be epic.

Or a complete and utter clusterfuck. Could go either way, really.

CHAPTER 3

OK, so summoning an angel wasn’t exactly as easy as Lane made it sound. Mistakes had been made.

One such misstep opened a portal to a hell dimension where an exceedingly pleasant water demon named Hang was kind enough to correct her Enochian pronunciation so that other portals wouldn’t accidentally open.

Hang was cool. She promised to keep him updated on her adventures in summoning angels going forward and made a date to introduce him to Netflix when he had some free time. He seemed like a dude who’d really enjoy Bridgerton.

She decided she’d save the question of how a demon from a hell dimension spoke an ancient angel language so fluently for another day.

But once she got all that out of the way, she was able to call Carl forth without incident. Well, without incident on her part. He, however, looked positively horrified to be in her tiny office at Section 8, all visible and everything.

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