Page 3 of Angel's Vengeance
Whatever curious humor that had glued Rhode in place fled on the next breath when he connected the woman’s actions with the object of her vandalism.“A thief, are you?”
He watched on as the woman, chest heaving, looked around her feet, then picked up a rock, took a few steps back, and heaved the thing at the window.
Rhode leaned forward, becoming more invested than he cared to admit.“That won’t work the way you think it will, though it’s far better than your shoulder.”
The glass didn’t shatter, as he predicted, but then his celestial senses snagged on a curious sound and pulled his ear closer to the scene below.A subtle snap.
“Ah,” he murmured with recognition.The glass had been cracked.Moderate progress, he supposed.She grabbed another rock, aimed at the same fractured point, and threw it again.
Then Rhode’s interest went the way of the dodo.While stealing a vehicle wasn’t exactly petty theft, the act was equally uninspiring.Though he had been living among the mortals for the past year and a half since his rescue and had witnessed many wondrous things, larceny wasn’t one of them.It was one thing for a mortal to steal for survival, to do what they had to do, but this woman?He narrowed his eyes and was immediately—well, he wouldn’t say saddened.Disappointed perhaps, for her clothes were certainly fine enough to suggest that the crime she was engaging in was not one of dire necessity.Crisp blue jeans hugged a well-fed frame, the winter coat’s bright white hue didn’t carry so much as a smudge, and her boots were still nicely soled.Her face was turned away from him, though, but even from behind, her hair boasted a vibrancy that came with easy access to clean water, regular bathing, and sanitary supplies.
“Oh, little miss, stealing is never the answer.”
Should he say something?Do something?Mortals’ affairs were not his.Never were.The mages knew he had other things to occupy his thoughts, even when he so desperately might wish for a reprieve from them.
But this was an active theft by someone who, all things considered, should damn well know better.
The glass had yet to shatter, but the woman kept trying.At this rate, Rhode would be lucky if he could jump off this roof and get a flight in before spring.Still, there was no rush.He had to remind himself of that.Even in his recovery, when his body had pushed past its once-familiar strength into a physical territory Rhode had never explored before, he forced himself to slow down.He was an immortal angel.Time, as had been unfortunately proven, was immaterial.So, if that meant waiting out a thief while the more tender parts of him risked frostbite as he perched on a rooftop during a New England snowfall, then that was what he would do?—
A depressed whine, one barely audible but still ominous, pierced through the quiet winter calm.Every muscle in Rhode’s body tightened with a honed reaction.That tumultuous heat in his core rose up, churning in defense of what the sound meant.
Rhode ducked low and scrambled across the roofline, trying to get a better vantage point of the trees.His stomach bottomed out right as the low hum of vibrations began to build on the scant piercing wail.Then, like clockwork, the dark magic came.
Green lightning lit up the falling snow, providing a shimmering curtain behind which a portal opened and exploded into the night with a roar.One by one, a group of three males—all pale, bald, tattooed with teal and gold swirls, and draped in black tactical gear—filed out.As soon as the last bootheel left the threshold, the portal winked out of existence and a black SUV screeched into the mechanic’s parking lot, blocking the exit.Another three males dressed in the same manner flew out of the doors before the tires stopped rolling and aimed some sort of firearm at the woman, though it didn’t look like any gun Rhode had ever seen.The muzzles gave way to a funnel attachment, with the large end of the cone facing the woman.Then the men took a step forward, and that meager streetlight caught the reflection of two gold bands rimming the males’ throats.
Charmers.Two bands signified them as elite class.Cyro’s warrior demons.
One of the charmers who had come through the portal was running toward the woman but gestured at the closer males with weapons.“Grab her!Grab her now!”
Grab her?
Rhode’s body seized up at the sight of his enemy, even while he struggled to make sense of what was happening.Why would the charmers go after a mortal woman?Had she inadvertently stolen from them?She couldn’t know what they were.That was out of the question.Charmers frequently took the appearances of mortals when interacting with them and were almost indistinguishable from the real deal.
Except for now.
So then why…?
The woman turned back toward the approaching charmers, and whatever questions remained floating in Rhode’s head solidified into cold brutal intentions.
Her shimmering eyes were stretched wide.Nostrils flared.Eyebrows arched.Confident movements from a moment ago had turned stilted.
Fear.This woman was in fear.The signs were etched across every one of her body’s curves and contours, even the ones dimmed by shadows.
She wasn’t a thief.She was a victim.One running for her life from the very demons who’d ruined his.
Rhode rose, retreated a few steps from the lip of the roof, unfurled his wings, and roared.A few running strides later, he was airborne.
Chapter2
Neela could explain the fear that had her slammed against the tow truck, sure.The tears, on the other hand?Those were a big fat surprise, given the circumstances.She had such little experience with the occurrence.
Then again, what about her current situationdidshe have experience with?She’d never been caught before.
The puffer coat was a bonehead move.An impulse purchase that half a dozen of her favorite fashion content creatorssworewas one of that season’s quintessential New England necessities.Sure, that was all well and good for the perma-camera-ready waifs who didn’t already come preinstalled with a hefty amount of lower body lining and unfairly proportioned curves.For all of the coat’s smooth lines and precision stitching, it was absolute shit in the stretchy-enough-to-run-for-your-life department.And the insulation sucked to boot.Might as well have been a mosquito net for all the good it did keeping out the chill from the frozen slab of steel at her back.Or blocking the scorching ire from the firing squad to her front.
Shit.How the hell did they find me?
Too late to figure that out now.