Angel Warrior (6 page)

I take the dagger.

He hands me a belt with a leather sheath and helps me to hook it around my waist. Then, he grabs an assortment of weapons for himself, sliding a pendant over his head. It lies against his bare chest and I find myself wanting to touch it. With a gentle hand on the small of my back, he guides me back out into the main basement.

He brushes by me, caressing my hip as he goes to the communications device. He flips a switch and a feminine voice answers in a language I don’t understand. He speaks back in the same language for a moment, then flips the switch off.

“Who was that?”

“Our angelic messaging service. She’ll call Cas and Zakiel to meet me.”

“I thought you have telepathy. Can’t you just call them with your mind?”

He shakes his head. “Not typically. We try to stay fairly well shielded from each other, or we’d always be in each other’s thoughts. Unless it’s an emergency. It takes a lot of emotion to use our minds like that.”

“Really.” I pause. “Isn’t this an emergency?”

He pins me with a level stare. “You’ll know when it’s an emergency.”

I don’t have time to think about it, because at that instant a glowing portal opens in the corner of the room and an angel steps through. He has short, curly dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s shirtless and his wings are out. Black jeans and combat boots complete his ensemble. He looks around the same age as Brion, but his demeanor is slightly older, more serious.

Do angels hold stock in Levi’s, or what?
And what’s with all the tattoos? Ink swirls over him in much the same manner as it does Brion, across his chest, shoulders, and arms.

“Cas.” Brion steps forward and clasps arms with him.

“Brion.”

But before they can continue the exchange, a second portal opens and an angel wearing black slacks and black leather dress shoes steps out. He looks noticeably different than the first two. This angel has straight white-blond hair down to the center of his back and green eyes. He’s thinner and taller than the others, his facial structure more delicate. He has the same golden skin, but his wings look as though they’re dipped in gold rather than titanium. And his tattoos are fundamentally different. They’re sharper, and the language seems almost alien.

Brion clasps arms with him as he did before. “Zakiel.”

I’d thought the basement was large, but the two new angels dwarf the small space. They furl their wings, but don’t draw them in like Brion does.

I know they have wings so it must be easier to be shirtless. But I still find it awkward to be near three enormous, tattooed, half-dressed warriors.
Even if I do have a dagger of my own. I caress the hilt.

Zakiel looks at me and asks a question in the language I can’t understand.

Brion turns back to me. “This is Gillian,” he says in English. “Gillian, this is Zakiel.” Then he points to the angel with dark hair and blue jeans. “And this is Cas.”

Cas gives a wave and a small smile. “Hello.”

Zakiel switches to English, following his lead. “Why have you called us here?”

Brion gestures to me. “Gillian was my target. She’s a scientist.” He says it almost proudly, placing a hand on the small of my back.

I turn to him and raise my eyebrows. “Target?”

He shrugs and whispers in my ear. “Sorry, it’s the lingo.”

I blush. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Unexpectedly, he smiles back.

“What’s going on here?” Zakiel says, pointing a finger from me to him.

Brion shrugs, but his gaze runs from the top of my head down to my toes, warming me to my core.

My blush deepens.

Zakiel’s eyebrows fly up and his mouth opens in surprise. “Are you… attracted to this human?”

“Yep.” Brion grins. “I was surprised at first, too.”

“I haven’t even looked at a woman in the two centuries since I died.” Cas’s face is chagrined and he gazes down at the crotch of his jeans sadly. “I thought becoming an angel meant we didn’t have human urges anymore.”

“I don’t know why, but from the first moment I laid eyes on her, I’ve been drawn to her.”

I stare at Brion first, surprised by the revelation. How could such an incredible man not have desires? And what was it about me that brought those urges back to him? I feel a spark of pride.

Then, my gaze turns to the other angels and a strange sadness takes over. Angels or not, it’s a shame these beautiful men lost something so precious when they died. True love is a gift.

After a moment, Zakiel mutters, “This can’t be good.”

He looks at Cas for backup, but the other angel merely shrugs.

Brion continues, pointedly ignoring the byplay. “She’s invented a device that shuts the portals from the underworld. Someone downstairs found out about it and put a hit on her.”

His words seem to suck the air from the room. Shock drains the color from the other angels’ faces. For a long moment, no one speaks.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Zakiel runs his fingers through his very long, white-blond hair and starts to pace.

“ Are—are you sure?” Cas asks.

Brion levels him with a stare. “I wouldn’t have called you both here if I wasn’t serious.”

After another couple of awkward seconds, Cas curses. “Every demon and their mother will be trying to kill her now. And get their hands on the device.”

I can feel my knees starting to tremble slightly. But Brion’s next words devastate me.

“Please. I need your help.”

It isn’t what he says, but how he says it. I get the feeling he would kneel if he had to. The other two angels straighten.

“Anything,” Cas answers immediately.

Zakiel gazes at Brion thoughtfully for a moment, then nods his assent.

Gratitude rushes over me. Brion was right when he said we weren’t alone. But then, for the first time, I begin to feel real fear about the final outcome of my situation.
If two angels are willing to drop everything and help you,
a voice whispers in my mind,
things must be really bad.

Zakiel steps forward. “You have our help, Brion. What is your plan?”

“We need to go back and get the rest of her research from her apartment. Then we need to get to the lab to pick up her invention.”

“How long do you think we have before all of hell descends on us?” Cas looks between them.

Brion shrugs. “I’m betting we have hours. At best.”

I wonder what all of hell descending on us will look like
. A sudden thought occurs to me. “If you’re right, and they’re tracking me, do you think they’ll go to my apartment? Keith is still there.”

Brion lets out a stream of curses. “I forgot about him. Yes, we need to get him out of there.”

“I left my phone at the lab so I guess we’ll have to tell him in person.”

“Then let’s get on it.” Zakiel looks over at the staircase and a wide smile spreads across his face. “But before we go, I’m thinking we’ll need some of the goodies you’re hiding under that staircase.”

DID YOU ENJOY THIS PREVIEW OF
ANGEL BETRAYED (AN ANGEL WARRIOR - PART II?

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Chapter One

The private spacecraft touched down in the ship yard with a familiar groan. Hannah swung her booted feet off the oversized chair in front of her, and pressed her palms against the window. A few people outside had turned to stare.

Her dad just had to travel in style! Yeah, the small craft moved faster and smoother than most, but just the sight of it would tell everyone that someone uncommonly wealthy and powerful travelled inside.

Which was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

At least mother hadn’t come. The woman had been a sobbing mess. The academy was already like a ghost, its memories haunting her mother with every step. Seeing her daughter there… Hannah couldn’t even imagine how badly that would’ve ended.

But how to deal with her father?

She leaned back in her chair and regarded him.
Here goes nothing!

“It might be better if you waited in the ship,” she suggested in her least argumentative voice.

Her father lowered his computer interface, one brow raised in annoyance. “Do you think I travelled with you all the way here simply to-- how did you put it? Wait in the ship?”

Disappointment flared. A true parent would’ve understood that an adult child deserved independence. Even on one of the most important days of her life, it was ‘the commander’ escorting her to the academy, not her father. She should’ve known the moment he’d donned his deep blue uniform, perfectly starched and pressed as always.

You did know
, her brain insisted, but the ache in her heart said she’d hoped she was wrong.

“Please?” she forced a smile.

He raised his interface once more, so only his neatly trimmed, steel-gray hair peeked over the top of it. “I pulled more strings than you can possibly imagine to allow you to attend The Starflight Academy under your mother’s maiden name. Even though I consider it an insult to my family. I will not act as your chauffeur, too.”

Hannah took a deep breath, fighting the urge to explode. “There isn’t much point in all of that if we enter the school together- now, is there?” she challenged.

He glared over the top of his computer. “If I had it my way, you’d either be attending the academy with guards at your side, around the clock, or I’d simply assign you a position on my ship. And before you interrupt me, yes, I do admire your desire to follow in my footsteps. After all your training already, I think it requires a certain kind of person to be willing to attend this challenging of a program, simply because your drive to never settle for less.” He paused. “That’s a Stowe family trait I might add.”

His praise, even wrapped in anger, stunned her. Perhaps he was starting to think of how much he was going to miss her when she was gone. Regardless about how much he mumbled about his ‘rebellious’ child.

“BUT,” he added, squashing her hopes with one word. “I also think your ego is outweighing your intelligence. Being my child is dangerous. The fact that you want to pretend otherwise doesn’t make the truth of your situation any different. By going here, you are putting yourself and me at risk.”

It took her a second to answer. And when she did, her words came out dangerously calm. “One day I’m going to be the captain of a class ten ship, and there is nothing in the world anyone can do to stop me.”

Her father didn’t respond. His gaze was already back on his screen.

Frustrated, she tapped her fingers on her leg, feeling precious seconds ticking away. She needed to change his mind before it was too late. She was twenty-one god-damn years old, she didn’t need her
daddy
to drop her off, and she certainly didn’t need the
Fleet Admiral
ruining any chance she had at a normal academy experience.

“We both know why I don’t want to be connected to you here.” The idea of living in her father’s shadow forever made her feel as if the walls were closing in around her. “But you’ve got to admit, the less people who know I’m your daughter, the safer I’ll be.”

There was a moment of silence. “This topic is closed.” Then, after a moment, he added. “We both know how gravely you want to be free of me, but remember, your people still need you. Whenever I call, your service to us will come above all else.”

Like he would ever let her forget.

She touched the small scar just below her hairline. “I remember.”

Looking back out her window, she stared at the crowded dock. Spaceships of all shapes and sizes had come from many worlds to drop the next class of students at the prestigious academy. She wanted to be anonymous among them. To create a new life, a new reputation for herself based upon her own merit.

At the same time, it wasn’t smart to push her father. She’d learned a long time ago that if she did, he would simply say no, and there wasn’t enough begging, pleading, or threatening in the world that would change his mind. But that left her few options in a situation like this.

A lot of people said his decisiveness was one of the many reasons he made such a great commander of the Earth fleet.
But it made a lousy quality in a father. He simply didn’t bend. Ever.

“I hope William is here.” Her best friend was the one person who understood her complicated relationship with her father, and she’d missed him fiercely over the past few weeks.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

She stiffened at her father’s response, not realizing she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“It’d take a miracle for him to reach Turonga. Without a private ship, he’d need a great deal of money and a whole lot of luck to find someone able to fly him this far,” he stated, not looking up from whatever he was reading on his computer. “The Academy strives to accept its recruits from families of good-standing. A gardener’s son is hardly—“