Page 30 of Demon Loved
“The omens occurred nearly two months ago, and angels never remain in one spot longer than a few days.” Van’s words only seem to reassure her partially, because even though she nods, her eyes dart nervously.
“We’re just going to look around. See if we can find their new location,” Raz adds, already in leader mode, stalking ahead of us, hand poised so he can send out horrible illusions if need be.
I place a large hand on Katrina’s shoulder in an attempt to provide her comfort. And I know I don’t deserve it, but when she leans further against me, offering me a tentative smile, I feel a flurry of butterflies unleash themselves in my stomach.
The good mood we all shared just moments before in the van evaporates as Raz stealthily ventures forward. Akor has wandered off to the side in what looks like a random way, but I know is strategic. He’s set up to guard Raz’s flank. Van and I, in unspoken agreement, remain behind with Katrina, the most precious thing in the world to all of us. If any harm comes to her…
I flex my muscles, imagining ripping the head off of these angel fuckers. Anger sizzles through my veins as I take a protective step in front of our Center, waiting. Listening. Hoping.
Raz doesn’t even bother to peek through the windows with the blinds drawn. Instead, he merely steps directly to the front door and tries the knob. Surprisingly, it swings open on silent hinges, and I feel my confusion exacerbate.
If the occupants of this house had been the angels, surely they would’ve taken precautions? They wouldn’t have left their house undefended, unless there’s nothing here for us to find in the first place.
Maybe there were never angels here. Maybe we read too much into the signs.
Van releases a hiss of breath suddenly, and we all turn to see an angel blade—one of the deadliest weapons in all the realms—pointed at his throat. The glistening white metal has an eerie golden glow to it, not unlike their damn halos. Behind Van, golden face contorted into a hideous scowl, is an angel.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing on my property?” His eyes flash white for a brief moment, the only sign that he’s beyond pissed, but outwardly, his face remains cool.
And if he’s here…
Raz quickly jumps off the patio, two blades in his hands. Akor merely saunters forward, whistling and spinning that damn sword around like a baton.
It’s not a moment too soon. The very next second, two more angels emerge from behind the house, where the peach trees are meticulously planted in perfectly straight rows. One carries a bow, a glowing arrow already nocked, and the other has a small dagger similar to Raz’s.
Katrina whimpers softly as the remaining two members of the flock move up the driveway. One is tall, almost freakishly so, with obsidian hair swept away from his chiseled jawline. The final one has hair so blond, it’s almost white. His wings are on display, and unlike the other four, he’s the only one who doesn’t carry a weapon. Instead, he merely stalks forward with a wide grin on his face.
“Welcome!” He extends his arms on either side of himself, that damn smile never leaving.
I slide my gaze, barely perceptibly, over to Raz, and he gives me a subtle nod. Akor grins manically from beside him, and Van bobs his head once in silent agreement.
As the winged fuckers begin to advance, we attack.
Van throws his head back with a roar, hitting the golden angel’s nose. At the same time, Akor unleashes his pain magic on the golden man, who immediately falls to the ground with an anguished scream.
“Owww!” the golden man bellows. “That fucking hurt!”
“That’s why we’re here, shit face,” a different angel interjects from where he’s running forward, prepared to fight.
The angels are here…because they want to get hurt? How does that make any—
Ohhhh.Understanding dawns with the force of a wrecking ball.
Like demon murders, angel flocks can only be severely hurt, injured, or killed if their Center is present.
Which means that the angels are here for theirs.
Raz jumps into the fray, daggers swinging wildly, and Akor laughs like a complete mad man as he swipes the katana sword at the rapidly approaching angels, creating a swooping arc that causes them to stumble back a step.
Raz lifts a hand, and a shadowy figure in a cloak appears out of thin air and swoops towards one of the angels. It looks like a dementor fromHarry Potteris sucking out the angel’s soul. Akor follows the illusion up with some nasty, knee-popping pain that makes the angel crumple to the ground, shouting, “Cheaters!”
I immediately fold my large body over Katrina’s, backing us both up until we’re near the vehicle. Before she can protest, I all but throw her inside the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. I can hear her pounding on the window, demanding to be let out so she can help, but I ignore her. It’s my duty to protect her at all costs.
I stand protectively in front of the car, daring anyone to even think about coming closer. Honestly, I’d like to see them try. Maybe it makes me cocky and overconfident. Maybe it makes me a sadistic prick.
But I want to see these angels bleed for what they’ve done to my murder.
That’s the only reason we brought Katrina with us in the first place—because we know these ugly fuckers have nothing on us. It’s not even going to be a good, brutal brawl, like the kind I grew up with in the vengeance rings, where battles could last for days and every player tried to up the stakes. Unlike angels, we don’t have to fight fair, which is evident when Akor jabs his knee into one of the angels’ dicks, his pink head thrown back in deranged laughter as the angel gives a pitiful, high-pitched yelp.
