Page 62 of Corrupt Shadows

I grab my phone from my pocket, ready to call the police. It has to be the pastor or Aiden, because Jay is dead and Rosa is at home.

Or worse.

A low, gravelly voice sounds through the gap. “Open the door, Fallenmoore witch, or we’ll kill your friend.”

A shadow shoots out of my chest in a wisp of glittering blackness, as if summoned by whoever is at the door. Then it fizzles away and I’m left hugging myself, my fingernails gripping my arms.

A lump forms in my throat when I think of Rosa in danger. Whoever spoke through the door is not the pastor or Aiden. It’s someone else entirely. Fallenmoore witch. Only the Order or a demon would call me that.

I reach for my purse, grab my handgun, and run into the living room. Gomez springs awake and flies to me. I grab him, his wings pressed against the side of the gun, then rush him to the balcony.

His feet and hands cling to my fingers, his black eyes widening as I slide open the door. “You have to go,” I say tearfully. “You must go, Gomez. Those are bad men. They’ll hurt you.”

The sound of the chain breaking jolts me, my nausea rising as I force Gomez off me, hurting his leg in the process. He falls to the balcony floor, and I shut the door before he can back inside. Better injured than dead.

I turn on my heel and point the gun, in turn at each of the seven men and a woman standing in my living room. All of them except one wears the symbol of the Order around their necks. The one free of the pendant steps closer to me. I tighten my grip on the handle of my gun, listening as Gomez flies against the glass door, trying to get back inside.

To protect me.

The man’s eyes are the most striking, pastel green I’ve seen, and his smirk reminds me of Lorcan’s, but he’s different. A groomed, dark beard runs around his chiseled jawline, into his brown locks. His muscles bulge under his black shirt and white collar, and he presses his thumb to the poutiest, thickest lips, then smiles. A dimple curves the corner of his mouth, and he looks me up and down, as if I’m dinner. “I thought you were dead.” He takes another step closer and places his fingers to my temple, and I flinch. He pauses, then slides his hand down my cheek anyway, tilting his head. “My brother has the prettiest secrets.”

He pulls me closer, until my head reaches his chest, and leans down. I breathe in the smell of ash, mostly masked by his bergamot cologne. He’s a demon. Only they have that smell linger, unless they’re a blacksmith or something. It’s as if the hellfire has tinged their bodies, the smell of it burned into their DNA forever.

With bent knees, he reaches my level, looking into my eyes.

“Demon,” I spit, my nostrils flaring. If I’m going to die, then I won’t be going without a fight. I only wish Gomez would fly away. Unleashing my magic means destruction to this room, including him.

I keep my shadows in… for now.

The demon laughs and cups my cheek, lifting my chin. “I’m no demon,” he replies, but his sadistic grin gives him away. “But my brother is.”

My eyes dart toward the Order, then back at him. Are they really buying this shit? “How is that possible?”

He releases his grip roughly, and I stumble, still holding onto my gun. It might not do anything to him, but it will kill the humans in the room. The Order members are mortal, despite acting otherwise.

The demon paces in front of me, and the Order members hang back, waiting for him. Is he their leader?

“I am Ezra,” he states. “I’m an angel, but my brother is fallen.”

My forehead crinkles. “Really? Because I can smell you from here, demon.”

His eyes darken as he halts and stares right through me, the look chilling me to the bone. “You speak of demons when their blood runs in your veins, Fallenmoore witch.” He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back.

My trigger finger twitches as he turns, setting the gun off. I let out a scream, clamping my eyes shut as the bang shatters in my ears, and a bullet ricochets off the floor. Even the Order members flinch, but Ezra doesn’t. His muscular arms hold me in place, then he pulls back my fingers until the gun falls to the floor. I look down, checking I hadn’t accidentally shot myself, but I feel no pain.

Ezra’s hiss slithers over the top of my ear when he whispers, “Be a good girl, or I’ll kill your familiar.” He glances at the door. “The one who was too stupid not to fly away.”

I wrestle against him, but he’s too strong. My shadows are restless in his presence, desiring to be let free. If it wasn’t for Gomez, I’d let them.

“Gomez, go!” I shout at the door, but he scratches at the door instead.

Ezra snaps his fingers at the female Order member and jerks his head toward the balcony door.

“No, Gomez!” I yell. “Fly now! Go, fucking go!”

She grabs him, then yelps when he sinks his fangs into her finger. “Fucking thing.” She groans and holds him by his torso, her grip too tight for my liking. He tries to bite her again, but she keeps her fingers away from his mouth.

My nostrils flare as I glare in her direction, venom dripping from my expression. Ezra pulls me tighter, holding me against his body. “Bring the pastor,” he snaps to the others.

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