Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) (18 page)

“The assassins won’t choose one insignificant human over a million other lives,” Beleth said. “The vampires will draw them out. Saul will find her.”

“Then what?” Saul asked.

Beleth shrugged. “Then I’ll wipe the last of my line from this living purgatory, and Ascend.”

• • •

WDIV was the first news station to report the fires burning through the popular Mexicantown restaurant district. Flames engulfed Mia Santos Eatery in red-yellow waves. The roof of Gloria’s Tex-Mex next door resisted the water and foam the Detroit Fire Department poured on its blazing surface.

Saul clicked the television remote. WXYZ’s cameras fed images of a horrific twenty-car pileup on I-75 in gruesome clarity. Even as he cast a bored eye at the news helicopter’s footage, he wondered if his enemies also watched.

• • •

A follow-up to the story we first reported yesterday. Police have confirmed the mutilated body found in the Detroit River this week is that of Russ Anderson. The Livonia resident was reported missing by his family when he failed to return home after his early morning shift at his Woodward Avenue newsstand. Sources close to the investigation believe foul play is involved, but would not elaborate.

Police have no suspects in the killing.

Kasdeja rubbed his palms into his eyes, weariness etching his features, and then he released a drawn out sigh. Jarrid didn’t need to ask. His brother had spent hours attempting to read Ionie’s blank mind.
Still
nothing
.

“If she’s in there she’s buried so deep I’ll need a cave digger to find her,” Kas said, swiping sweat from his forehead. “It’s simply lights out, man.”

Jarrid hunched his back. The last of his energy and hope fizzled out like fireworks left in the rain. He slipped his hand under Ionie’s. The elegant brown fingers that intrigued him lay inert in his palm. His gaze traveled over the feminine body resting in his bed.

Two days of slumber hadn’t diminished Ionie’s remarkable beauty. Her coils of dark-brown hair shimmered in the room light. The gentle slope of her nose pulled in quiet breaths. The lushness of her lips …

An unfamiliar ache clawed inside his chest. He rubbed the spot over his heart to ease it.

“Damn, Jarrid,” Kas said. “I wouldn’t have wished this on you in a billion years. You got snared in a fucking Greek tragedy, bro.”

Jarrid glanced up, his vision blurring at the edges. He’d seen a chance of flipping off Heaven by taking down a Renegade with human bait.

A touch of hubris
. The bait turned out to be a vivacious and bewitching woman who’d hit him broadside. “Didn’t see this coming. She struck at my blind spot.”

“We’re assassins, man,” Kas said, frowning. “We don’t have blind spots.”

Jarrid coughed up a humorless chuckle. “The joke’s on me.”

He thumbed the smooth skin he held, relishing the contact. Angels taught him every way to kill without leaving a trace, to move like air, and to strike with a precision that left a poor bastard dead before his brain registered the fact.

What they hadn’t taught him was how to defend himself against a charming young woman who believed angels were the good guys.

He swept his gaze over Ionie, his anger rising. Cain warned him to take care with her. He hadn’t. She’d been attacked by a bastard he wanted dead. He balled his hands, crushing the circulation of blood.
Zero-to-one in the ass kicking department
.

He tucked her hand close to her side under the comforter. “Need to kill someone.”

Jarrid stomped to his closet. Kas followed.

He wasn’t in the mood for company.

“This is the part where I act like Cain — less douchy, of course — and ask if there’s a specific soon-to-be-corpse on order,” Kas said.

Jarrid tucked his guns into his chest holsters, then he snatched a pair of curved daggers. The blades slipped into their sheaths with a welcoming hiss.

“The vamp’s a mark.” He strapped more weapons to his body. “If he works for the Renegade, I’ll question him first.” He slid three clips into his gun belt. “Then I’ll see if Saul can drink his own blood without an esophagus.”

Kas whistled low. “Damn. The bloodsucker’s in for a long night. Well a body has 206 bones so I call dibs on half of his.”

Jarrid rounded on his brother. “Sorry, bro, but this is a solo gig.”

“No can do,” Kas said, crossing his arms. “Tanis ordered one of us to stick to you like fly paper. I, in all my devastating glory, am your new shadow until Cain returns with a shifter to help your girlfriend.”

Jarrid wanted to argue, his temper an unlit powder keg fuse away from blowing the roof off the Stronghold. They glared at each other for seconds. Then his brother leaned forward.

“He touched one of ours,” Kas said, his tone sharp, cold, and deadly. “I plan to correct his error.”

Jarrid stared into his brother’s glowing eyes. A faint nod graced his head. “Let’s do this.”

• • •

Detroit burned.

Tanis opened screen after screen of news reports on the computers, overwhelmed by what he saw.

A city in chaos.

Multiple murders.

Arson.

Missing persons, wailing families, broken neighborhoods, destroyed businesses.

Death tolls unconfirmed, but vast.

All in one night?

The shrill of the communication orb drew his attention.

Perfect fucking timing
. The last thing he needed was the Directorate’s bitching. They had learned of the destruction.

No other explanation.
He cursed and crossed his study. He yanked the damned orb from its case and set it on the connector stand.

Azriel’s contemptuous tone rang through. “Report.”

“Violence is affecting several areas,” Tanis said. “This isn’t random.”

“Why hasn’t your team stopped it?”

He clenched his hands behind his back. He wasn’t about to tell the group about the last forty-eight hours. One hint about Ionie, or her connection to the Renegade, and the team would be pulled. He refused to think about what Heaven would do to her.

“My men are in the field. We’ll restore order.”

“I’m unimpressed by your lack of progress,” Azriel said. “Reports are in from several of our sources. Lycans have set up roaming vigilantes, while those blasphemous Fey vow revenge for their losses. Humans hunt vampires with consecrated tap water and wooden stakes.”

Tension gripped Tanis’ mangled wings and he flinched from the pulsating pain.
Keep cool.
“All our efforts are focused on tracking the source behind this. There were no signs of mounting trouble between the races.”

“Yet you have children dying in the streets.”

Like I needed that image in my head, asshole
.

“I’ll report again in a few hours,” Tanis said, praying the board wouldn’t press him.

“Has Jarrid made progress on the Renegade?” Puriel asked.

Tanis swallowed back a wave of nausea. “He’s tracking a vampire connected to the target. I’m confident we’re close to our mark.”

Murmurs floated from the orb. His heart thundered in his chest.

“How does he know the vampire is connected?” Azriel asked.

Tanis heard the suspicion behind the words. “Jarrid is the best assassin on my team. I trust his instincts.”

“Your trust is misplaced, as always. The abomination is no better than the creature he tracks.”

Fury heated his blood like lava. He didn’t give a shit if the bastard nailed him with insults. Azriel hated him for saving his team from their childhood death sentences. They deserved better treatment for their years of loyal service.

He clenched his teeth. “No one escapes from Jarrid.”

• • •

Rusty cars and rat infested trash bins decorated the alley behind Sha’Nae’s Beauty & Nails. Jarrid kept his gaze roaming over their entry point. Kas knelt beside him on the pavement, scanning for minds. The pack of vamps they followed was close, but the brothers wouldn’t attack until certain no innocents called the derelict alley home.

Kas shook his head, confirming the alley clear.

Only vamps
. Jarrid unholstered his guns and surveyed the alley. The bloodsuckers ran when he and Kas caught them setting fire to a Land Rover. Itching for action, they had jumped at the opportunity to levy some payback.

Kas groaned through the Act of Contrition. If Jarrid could spare his brother Heaven’s vindictive curse, he would. Instead, he kept watch until his brother’s suffering ended.

The frigid temperature didn’t chill Jarrid’s determination to find one vamp in particular. Saul wasn’t among the four fangs in the alley, but vamps used a power structure. This group could know where he’d find the walking dead man.

“Plan?” Kas asked, his guns drawn and ready.

“One alive, others toast.”

“On it.”

Kas ran down a left pathway, leaving him the center trail. The heavy weight of his boots gripped the frost covered pavement. He slowed his approach, listening. He caught the scurry of rats off to his right and followed.

The dual click of hammers snapping against steel registered a second before the booming discharge of guns exploded the quiet.

Jarrid leapt to the side, crashing shoulder first into a trash bin. Bullets scored the ground where he’d been standing. A volley of bullets bit into the steel protecting him. Sparks lit the air like fireworks set too close to the ground. He sneered at the shitty aim.

“Who taught you assholes to shoot?” Jarrid thumbed the hammers of his guns. “Here’s a lesson. Free of charge.”

He pushed off his back, aimed around the riddled bin, and unloaded his birds. The thundering release of the Desert Eagles echoed in the alleyway, followed by loud cries. Satisfied but far from finished, Jarrid knelt behind his cover and peeked around.

Two vamps writhed on the ground. One clutched his chest, groaning in pain. The other spasmed a few times before he lay still.

“Gonna suck you dry, half-breed!” More bullets followed the challenge.

“No foreplay?” Kas said.

Jarrid peeked across the alley. His brother’s wide smile greeted him. He grinned back. Assassins lived for this shit. Kas held up his hand, signaling five vamps.

Awesome
. The vamps had backup. Jarrid signaled a reply in the complicated mix of finger gestures that served as their silent language. When Kas nodded, he gripped his guns.

“Which of you pricks want to live longer than the rest?” Jarrid asked. “Four of you are going to die.”

“Fuck you!”

He glanced at Kas. The other assassin shrugged. Jarrid launched forward, surprising the vampires with unearthly speed. A gust of wind flared his coat like a cape. His fingers pressed triggers. Several rounds blasted two more stunned vamps point blank. Brain matter, bone, and blood exploded in all directions upon impact.

Kas moved next, death in leather. His hands retracted, and then released a succession of silver daggers at two bloodsuckers the moment they raised their weapons. One vampire crumpled forward, slamming his head into the stinking muck of the pavement.

The other stood like a breathing pincushion, four daggers cratered in his chest. Red eyes stared in disbelief at the glittering points. Jarrid spun around and planted a fifth blade in the man’s neck. The vamp’s shock faded, like the dim light in his eyes.

“We have a winner,” Jarrid said. He leveled a glare at the remaining firebug.

The bloodsucker paled. Cornered, his friends slaughtered around him, the man’s lips trembled. He raised his hands, pleading, and backed into a wall.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked.

The brothers approached.

Kas bent over to pull a dagger from a body. “Saul. Know him?”

Sweat rolled into the vampire’s wide eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“We want Saul,” Jarrid said. He moved his arm like a cobra strike and gripped the man’s throat. Then he slid the bloodsucker up the wall. “Talk or I start ripping the skin from your bones.”

The vamp sputtered and twisted in his iron grip. When the guy kicked out, landing a solid blow to his thigh, Jarrid brushed it off. His Grace ramped inside him, the tug of power aching for release. He allowed it to flow behind his eyes.

“Sweet Jesus, what are you?”

Kas spoke first. “He’s the embodiment of pain. I’m suffering.”

Jarrid squeezed until the vampire’s eyes bulged. The vamp’s face reddened and his flailing body slowed its movements. He eased his grip to give the doomed bloodsucker air.

“Saul.” Jarrid knew the single word wouldn’t be ignored.

“Yeah, yeah. I know him. He paid us to light up the city.”

“Why?” Kas asked.

“The angel ordered it. Saul’s his top guy. I just follow orders.”

Kas leaned closer to the vamp, his eyes blazing white from his Grace. “What’s the angel’s name?”

The vampire shook his head, or tried, given the limited freedom Jarrid’s palm allowed. “He’s psycho. He’ll kill me if I say shit.”

Jarrid placed one of his daggers to the vampire’s abdomen. “He’s not here. I am.”

“Fuck. He’ll kill me, or worse. He can burn you with a glance.”

“Name.” Kas said, misting the frigid air with his hot breath.

“Shit! Beleth, all right. The angel’s name is Beleth.”

Saul sat in his car across from a duplex nestled in a neat neighborhood. The green lawn defied the ongoing winter, remaining manicured since the long summer. Ionie Gifford’s house reflected the care of a place well loved.

He cast a bored glance at a car passing the tranquil street. His custom-tinted windows made it impossible for the strolling neighbors to see the interior.

Saul picked at a fingernail. He had stationed an armed crew near the Eternal Order’s home base. At last check, three of the half-breed’s had left, but not Ionie. His men couldn’t confirm if she was inside. Now he stewed on a goddamned stakeout, like some loser cop.

He clawed his hands though his hair. The campaign to terrorize Motown went well, if the grumbling news media could be believed. Others and humans pointed fingers at each other. The vamps he didn’t run with started targeting rivals as the violence ignited turf wars long dormant.