Page 19 of Leda's Log

When I saw that name on the guy, everything clicked. I knewexactlywho he was. I’d encountered him during my bounty hunter days, over a year before I’d joined the Legion of Angels. His name was Masher, and ‘Rosie’ was the girlfriend he’d beaten until she blacked out. And then the degenerate had followed up that fantastic display of asshattery by stealing Rosie’s car and making a run for it.

I’d caught Masher just seconds from the town border, tasered him, and duct-taped his hairy backside to the ‘Welcome to Purgatory’ sign. Naked. And I’d beenverygenerous with the duct tape. It took Sheriff Wilder over an hour to extract Masher from the welcome sign—and rumor had it that by the end of the de-taping, the scumbag didn’t have a single hair left on his body.

Thinking back on it now, I was almost glad that some mysterious force had transported me back in time so I could doit all over again. Only this time, I didn’t just have a roll of duct tape. I had a full angel arsenal at my fingertips.

“I’ve thought about you a lot over the last eighteen months.” Masher’s eyes locked with mine. “Each and every single day, as I sat in that stinking jail cell.”

“Sorry, big guy. You’re not my type.” I took a step back to give myself more room to maneuver.

Masher misinterpreted my strategic thinking for complete cowardice. “Yes, you should be afraid, little girl,” he said, flashing me a grin that was full-on psycho. “Because Iamgoing to hurt you.”

He surged forward to grab me, but I sidestepped. As he passed me, I gave him a rough shove, sending him headfirst into a stack of wooden delivery crates filled with tomatoes and other fresh produce that the delivery guy had just deposited outside Dale’s grocery store. Masher roared in anger, and the delivery guy scrambled back into his truck and sped away, tires screeching, the driver-side door still half-open.

“You will regret that,” Masher told me, wiping the wood chips and ripe tomato flesh off his face.

He charged at me like an enraged bull. I lifted my hands to summon a gust of wind to knock him off his feet.

Nothing happened. The spell didn’t work.

Shock froze me for just a second, but that was more than long enough for Masher to grab my shoulders and slam me hard onto a locked garbage dumpster. A jolt of pain cut down my spine. I kicked and punched and heaved with all my strength, but all my strength had left me. I wasn’t supernaturally strong anymore.

Masher’s smug, cruel face glared down at me. “I told you that you’d regret it.” One of his enormous hands locked around my throat, and he started to squeeze. “But if you apologize for what you did to me, I might just let you go.”

“No…” I coughed. “…you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” he agreed, laughing in glee. And squeezing harder.

I dug deeper, trying to drag my powers to the surface—anyof my powers—but they just weren’t there. My magic was gone. I was completely human again.

I’d been so wrong. I hadn’t just been sent back in time; I actuallywasthat person back in time. I wasn’t Leda Pandora, the Angel of Chaos, anymore. I was Leda Pierce, totally powerless bounty hunter. A Leda without magic. A Leda almost as weak as any human. Except for my memories, there wasn’t anything magical about me.

Dark spots blinked in front of my eyes. Masher was slowly strangling the life out of me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

CHAPTER 3

DIRTY FIGHTING

Once again, I was that weak human I used to be—in everything but my memories. Those memories smashed together inside my frail body, like popcorn popping inside a delicate paper bag, threatening to burst out.

But it didn’t matter what I remembered. It didn’t matter who I’d been. This was who I was now: fragile and feeble, but not helpless.

I’dneverbeen helpless.

“I lost eighteen months of my life because of you, bitch,” Masher snarled, his grip tightening on my throat.

“Not because…of me,” I choked out. “You assaulted someone…learn from your mistake…or you’ll lose…another eighteen months.”

“I’m not going back to that jail.Never,” he growled. “Don’t worry, sunshine.” His hard, scarred lips cut into a smile, like a dagger thrusting up into a victim’s chest. “No one will ever know I was the one who killed you.” He gave me a conspiring wink. “They’ll never even find your body.”

He was even crazier than I remembered.

“Admit it,” Masher said, his eyes lit up with a fiery, manic glee. “I won.”

He certainly won in the psycho category.

“Say it.” He pulled my head off the garbage dumpster lid, then smacked it back down again.

Ouch. Black splotches stained my vision, swirling and burning.

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