Fallen Embers (Fallen Guardians #9)

Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

Dammit! Nia stumbled as they reformed again and grabbed the nearest thing. Unfortunately, him.

She hastily stepped back, hands fisting, head woozy. But the imprint of his hard, warm chest burned her palms.

“For the love of Christ!” She took refuge in scowling, hands clenched. “If you have to haul a girl around in that mode of travel, give her some warning, will you? Wait! How the hell did you know where I live? Ugh. Never mind.”

Thank God it was dark, so they didn’t scare her neighbors with their supernatural appearance.

“Blasphemy is not becoming, little mortal.”

“Oh, go flip a feather.” Fed up to her sleep-starved skull, Nia spun to the door, only to stop, biting back a groan. She’d climbed out of the clinic window yesterday. Her keys were still in her bag at the office. Just great.

Red reached past her, turned the handle, and opened the door. No key required.

“Your protection wards are weak.”

Nia stomped inside. Saia’s demoness friend, Ikaria, had put those protection wards up for her when she found out Nia could sense demons. So far, it had kept her safe from Kas, and that was the only thing that mattered.

She switched on the lights in her small, two-level apartment in an old house that had been converted into four separate residences.

The door shut behind her, and that subtle scent of the great outdoors, of a breeze moving through orange groves, of the infinite, surrounded her again. Utterly intoxicating, tempting her to lean back against that powerful chest.

She huffed. Yep, she’d lost a brain cell. Gone totally loopy. He was pretty, for sure, but leaning on a cactus would be more welcoming.

Nia hastily hung her loaned jacket on the coatrack and slipped into the tiny galley kitchen overlooking the living room and out of his smell range, so her stupid olfactory senses could calm the heck down.

She dropped her cell on the counter and crossed to the fridge on the other end, needing a drink to wet her parched throat. She opened the door and bit off a groan. Great. No orange juice.

Nia rubbed her temple, her gaze settling on the exposed red brick wall next to the fridge. The lengthening crack there, an eerie reminder of her current state of life. Sighing, she glanced at the angel wandering through her living room.

He stopped at the pair of tall windows overlooking the paved, walled-in backyard, which used to have a few conifers along the boundary wall. She’d converted it into a little garden with a profusion of potted plants and hanging ferns. He stood there, studying the place.

His immense presence made the open-plan space feel like a cage.

He turned, his remote stare flickering over her furniture.

Nia pushed back a spike of irritation. So what if the blue pillows were frayed and chewed—courtesy of Ginger, her neighbor’s frisky kitten who always stalked her place and kept her company—and the couch was a hand-me-down from Saia’s family, or that a mish-mash of photo collages of her friends and her crowded the walls?

She loved her apartment.

Yes, it was small, but she’d gotten it at less than minimum rent from her other best friend, Niki, who owned the building. So, she didn’t care if the decor didn’t meet His Mightiness’ approval.

Still, he had rescued her from Kas.

Setting aside her antipathy, she put Nan’s civility lessons to good use and tried to be pleasant. “Would you like something to drink?”

Those otherworldly, silvery-green eyes shifted to her. He shook his head.

Well, so much for being polite. She grabbed a soda and hip-bumped the fridge door closed. “How long will this bodyguard thing last?”

“For as long as need be.”

Jeez. Was it so hard to give her a little more info?

She popped the tab and took a deep swallow of her drink, eyeing him. The chilled liquid slid down her throat, but the tension along her nape grew worse as the minutes passed.

The words were out before she could stop them. “If you’re gonna be here for God knows how long, sit, for Heaven’s sake!” His brow lowered at her cussing. She didn’t care. “You’re looming, taking up all the space?—”

Her cell rang, cracking through her irritation. She set her can down, grabbed her phone from the counter, and answered. “Sai?—”

“Are you okay?” her friend demanded.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Head lowered, she rubbed her brow. “I’m back at my place.”

“Jesus, what a mess. Thank God for Riley and Zac. Where’s the angel? Riley said that’s what he was.” Well, that confirmed her theory. “I’m coming over.”

Nia blew out a tired breath. “Sai, I’m okay. Really.”

“He’s still there, isn’t he?”

“Yep.” She looked up, connecting with his impassive stare. “Says he’s going to keep me safe.” She deliberately rolled her eyes and added, “We’ll see.”

“Honey, he appeared so suddenly, you don’t know if he’s trustworthy?—”

“It’s fine, Sai. I mean, he could have let Kas take off with me to Hell or some other horrifying place.”

“Since you’re speaking to me and not shackled somewhere…” A deep exhale drifted down the line. “Okay. Call if you need us.”

“Is he dead?” Nia asked her, hopeful.

“The angel broke his neck, but he regenerated and vanished with all his cohorts in the chaos. Riley’s hunting his ass. Zayn will be there as soon as he can.”

The call ended. Nia dropped her cell on the counter and sighed. Wonderful. The hellspawn will be back.

“And I will know.”

“Stop reading my mind!” A wave of heat swept through her. She pushed up her sweater sleeves, trying to cool down.

“You project your thoughts as loudly as your conversation, and that’s probably how the demon found you, no matter the glamour you wear.”

Shit! He knew? Ugh!

Her brain rattled inside her sore skull. She blanked her mind, swiped her soda off the counter, and pressed the cold can to her hot cheek.

Hands clasped at his back, the angel remained like a statue—a very tall statue—and continued perusing the place.

“What are you looking for?” She rolled the can over her other cheek. “Dust mites? You’ll find some under the couch.”

He didn’t respond.

“So, an angel, huh?” If she had to spend an undetermined amount of time with him, the least he could do was entertain her. Nan had always maintained that a little honey went a long way.

“What do angels do when not keeping us mortals safe, huh? Fly over Earth, see where demons are causing trouble? Wait, it’s only demons you guys hunt, right? Say, do angels have homes? Families? Can you even have kids? Or, are you all like monks, celibate and boring?”

“You talk too much.”

She bit back a smile. Yay, score one for me. “Yep. Word vomit helps me cope with strenuous situations…” Her eyes narrowed. “You! It was you I crashed into in the street last night when I ran for a cab?”

“Yes.”

So, he’d been searching for her?

The doorbell rang.

Frowning, Nia set her soda down and pivoted to answer, only to find her way blocked by a big body.

“Christ!” She glowered, craning her neck to look at him, still not used to how fast he moved. “You scared the heck out of me!”

“You should be more careful.”

“It’s my friend Zayn—” She brushed past him, but he grasped her arm.

A zip of electricity shot through her at the skin contact. Nia pulled free, all her nerve endings tingling.

“You don’t know that,” he said as if nothing happened, but his fingers clenched.

She rubbed her arm, trying to rid herself of the eerie sensation. It didn’t hurt; if anything, it made her more aware of this cold angel. Nope, nope, nope! She tugged her sleeves down. “I know because I can sense demons.”

Another harder rap, and she hurried off, unlocked, and threw open the door.

“Zayn!” she cried at the sight of sanity.

Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, her friend’s frown vanished. A smile lit his handsome face. “Hey, beautiful. Whoa. Saia mentioned the change. If I hadn’t known, I would have scored a date from you or at least bagged your phone digits,” he teased, raking back his overgrown, cinnamon-brown hair.

Nia huffed and hugged him, still thrown for a loop at her odd reaction to the angel. “I don’t date anyone who tried to convince me mudpies were a food source by eating one when we were five.”

“Fun days.” He laughed, embracing her. “Anyways, your knight in shining armor is here.” With a hand on her back, he ushered her back inside and shut the door.

Zayn’s eyebrows lifted when his gaze lit on Lore, who’d already taken up his post near the window again. “Who’s the flaming-haired statue?”

Nia pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh.

He must have heard about the angel. But she loved that Zayn didn’t let the sight of a heavenly being intimidate him. “Oh, that’s Lore, sent to protect little ol’ me from all threats unknown, great and small.” She met Lore’s impassive stare. “This is?—”

“Zayn. The light of her life.” He threw his arm over her shoulders.

Nia snorted and lightly smacked his back.

He grinned, giving her a little squeeze. “Some coffee, please, Nia, love. It’s been a damn long day.”

“Coming up.” She slipped into the kitchen. He followed her, then snagged her soda from the counter and gulped some of it. “Never mind, this will do.”

Used to him always eating her food, she let it pass. He opened the cupboard where she kept the snacks and raided her stash of Oreos.

She groaned. “No crumbs.”

He smirked, popping a cookie into his mouth. “I’m hungry.”

“Zayn—”

“You’re as bad as Sai. Fine. I’ll leave no crumb uneaten.” He picked up an invisible crumb from his tee and tossed it in his mouth. Nia rolled her eyes.

Pilfered soda in hand, he made for the living room. “Yo—” He lifted the packet of Oreos to Lore. “Cookies?”

Lore shook his head. His unbound hair shifted and glimmered like the deepest flames beneath the lights. The angel might be a pain in the ass, but he really did have pretty hair.

“Suit yourself.” Zayn shrugged and set the soda on the wooden chest, stained to a glossy brown and used as a coffee table. “Come join me, Nia love.” He patted the seat next to him. “We can catch up.”

“It’s been a long week, Zayn. I seriously need sleep. I’m a walking zombie.” Now that her friend was here, hopefully, she could relax enough to do so.

“I hear ya. Go get your z’s, Sleeping Beauty.” He leaped to his feet, crossed to her, and kissed her cheek, cookie pack held protectively in one fist. She eased back and found the angel still watching them with that emotionless stare.

“I know it’s been hard,” Zayn said softly, picking up her blonde lock. “I’ll be here when you awaken?—”

A loud, plaintive caterwaul erupted outside, and she groaned. “The darn tomcat is chasing Ginger again. I swear I’ll have him neutered?—”

Lore vanished in a flash. Grunts replaced the yowling.

“Stay here!” Zayn sprinted for the living room door, opened and slammed it shut before vanishing into the darkness.

Nia froze. Fear slid along her spine like icy needles.

Kas . It had to be.

Her heart hammering in her ears, Nia hurried to the window and peered outside. Everything remained still. No sign of Ginger, the angel, or Zayn. The gate in the property wall leading to the park beyond remained shut, but Nia knew anything could be happening out there.

Time stretched endlessly, as did her nerves.

Too on edge to remain still in case that damn Kas came back, and taking comfort in the dagger in her boot, Nia grabbed her jacket and pulled it on, stashing her cell in her pocket.

The hairs on her nape rose. She wheeled around?—

“Dammit!” She stumbled back, heart crashing against her sternum as Lore took form in the living room. “What happened?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Where’s Zayn?”

“The human is not my concern.”

“Maybe not to you! I need to find him.” She stormed past, but Lore grasped her arm. Frustration gathered into a wrecking ball at always being grabbed. Without thinking, she slammed her fist into his jaw.

“Ow, oww !” She snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest, pain shooting through her bones.

“Two things,” he said, clasping her throbbing fingers. A white light glowed, heating and spreading through her digits, and the agony faded. “Never strike an angel. You will break your wrist. Two, never punch with your thumb exposed.”

She tugged free and glared. Seriously? “Where is Zayn?—”

His eyes held hers, his irises glittering silver, and she blinked, forgetting what she was mad about. Her mind spun. Oblivion hovered, and she swayed. Before she hit the floor, powerful arms picked her up, and everything went dark…

Lore shifted to the Catskill Mountains and settled on a ledge, the female he had sent to sleep finally silent in his arms, giving him a much-needed respite from her nonsensical jabbering.

Only he could keep her safe, not some human male. Did she not understand that?

The little mortal should be grateful to him. But no, the reckless female taunted him instead. She had no comprehension of the danger to her.

The demon he had gone after, who’d prowled outside her home, then vanished into the park, was determined to hunt down his charge. The scourge had escaped him, but he would return. Demons could never let go of a human they fixated on.

He sent a telepathic connection to Michael and waited, frowning at the drifting snowflakes settling on her brow and face.

Michael responded straight away. Yeah?

I need a place to take the female. New Orleans is compromised.

The abbey in Romania. It’s warded, but you have leave to enter. No one’s there except Race. He prefers the mountains, though he might check in.

Lore shifted, reappearing in the snow-crusted courtyard of the Guardians’ other abode in Romania. Night had given way to the early hours of the morning in this part of the world, but darkness still consumed everything.

He strode to the abbey’s entrance. With a thought, the enormous, black-domed door creaked open like an ancient catacomb. The wards shimmered, permitting him entrance, the silence in there deafening.

He stopped in the shadowy, semicircular living room and scanned the many bedrooms on the ground level but sensed they belonged to the warriors. Upstairs, he found a few unused ones, and he flashed there, mentally opening the first door on his left. Musty air enveloped him as he crossed to the bed and settled her on the dark gray cover.

A cell phone rang, the sound emanating from her jacket pocket. He shut it off with his mind before she awakened. A break from her constant need to spout nonsense or spit her ire at him was welcomed.

Lore headed for the door, only to stop and glance back. Even though he’d caught a glimpse of her true appearance from Chamuel’s message and during his brief encounter with her as she ran for a taxi, he skimmed her currently pale features. They conveyed an innocence that would be difficult to maintain while awake.

His first directive resurfaced. Powers unfolding.

He didn’t sense any powerful capabilities, just a faint tingle of her psychic ability. But was she a risk to the Celestial Realm?

You appear harmless enough and were terrified when the demon grabbed you. What is it about you that worries the seraphs so?

Guess he’d know soon enough once he delved further.

He’d slain many demons, angels, and even humans to keep the Celestial Realm secured and to maintain the balance between the divine world and the other realms.

And he would again.

Quietly, he closed the door behind him and headed down the concealed stairwell leading directly to the sunken living room on the ground level. Worn furniture and the several games these Guardians played decked out the place.

Lore scanned the abbey for any weaknesses in the wards. They appeared solid.

Making sure all the exit doors were bolted, he prowled the long, worn corridor with the spidering cracks to the front courtyard, stepped outside, and freed his wings. A rip echoed as his shirt ripped down on either side of his back again.

Twice now, he’d torn his shirts. Human garb was tiresome.

Needing to work off his excess energy, he shot into the air and flew over the abbey, through the dense, roiling mist, surveying the meandering mountains. He coasted over the miles of forest and swooped down to the small village at the foothill, scanning the place.

All appeared calm.

He returned to the abbey, the mist’s dampness clinging to his wings and clothes. With a thought, he dried them and settled on the rooftop, letting his mind connect with the Heavens…

And he came back with a bump, unable to concentrate.

He inhaled the sharp, cold air, removed his cell phone from his pocket, and while he kept watch over the abbey and the sleeping female within, he hit the informative Google app…

Soon, the gray light of dawn lightened the dark sky, chasing away the night, and a familiar presence surrounded the abbey.

Lore rose, wings rustling as he concealed them and slipped the cell into his pants pocket. He shifted into the gloomy kitchen, eyeing the wooden table with unmatched chairs and a few more set against the wall.

A second later, Michael appeared through the kitchen door, sweeping back the loosened strands of his tethered, ebony hair.

“Humans generally prefer lights when it’s dark,” he said, yet he didn’t turn on the orbs.

The information wasn’t of interest to Lore.

“She’s asleep.” He waited for whatever brought the archangel here.

Michael didn’t seem inclined to talk. He crossed to a machine on the counter, picked up a glass pot with dark liquid, and headed for the sink.

Lore studied the archangel who had lost his wings while rescuing a band of hardheaded fallen gods incarcerated in the hellish pits of Tartarus millennia ago. Without those appendages, most treated him with disdain despite the work he continued to do for the realm.

With the clean pot back in the machine, Michael rattled through the cupboards and found a jar. He scooped spoonfuls of brown granules into an attachment and pressed a button.

Lore might be a level above Michael in the angelic hierarchy and powerful, but he suspected Michael was even more so after becoming the Guardians’ leader. And while Lore might be a loner, he wasn’t sure what the archangel was anymore.

But Michael had been the one who’d set him on his path. He’d guided a newly formed stripling awakening in the angelic world, without guidance, on how to tap into his inner strength and his capabilities to survive against other newbies and land the much-coveted Power position.

He owed the archangel for that.

And that was why he now protected a potential target.

Michael leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “What happened?”

“A powerful demon’s after her. I reached into his mind, but he cut me off. Just got his obsession with the female?—”

The machine spat, dripping the dark liquid into the glass pot. The familiar smell of coffee he’d encountered a time or two permeated the air.

Michael grabbed a mug from the shelf above and poured some. He didn’t offer Lore any since angels didn’t eat or drink earthly nourishment. They simply existed on a heavenly nectar, consumed when needed.

Mug in hand, Michael swallowed a deep gulp of the steaming beverage and sighed. “Needed that.”

“Our nectar doesn’t work for you anymore?”

“Maybe it does, but I hardly ever go to the Celestial Realm, so I do what I must for sustenance when I need it.”

Indeed. Lore brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Why does the demon want her?”

Michael slowly rubbed his scruffy jaw. “It’s a known fact demons become fixated on a human because of the light their souls carry…”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Michael laughed, his shattered blue irises flashing like lightning. “Still sharp as a tack, just like when you were first formed. I knew I made the right call when I steered you toward the Power for your trials.” He sipped more of his coffee, then said, “I’m not sure. Still putting the pieces together. I will let you know once I have an answer…” His gaze lifted to the ceiling, in the direction of the bedroom where Lore had settled his charge. “I sense a buzz in her.”

“Yes.” Lore strolled to the head of the long table. “I felt it when I scanned her. Nothing has emerged yet.”

“If what I suspect is true, it will emerge soon enough. Until then, keep her safe.”

“Is she one?”

Michael finished his coffee and set his mug in the sink. “Better to wait first before tagging her. I’ll be by in a few days to talk to her and will probably take her to the castle. Do not say anything to her about what she could be, and especially who she is, until I give the go-ahead.”

Lore frowned. Who she is? “But she will need to know she’s psionic.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Michael eyed him for a second. “I’m surprised you haven’t made the connection yet, having seen her. No matter.” With that cryptic comment hanging in the air, he left in a scatter of molecules.

Lore shook his head, not interested in unraveling whatever that puzzle was. A few days for this job? It was a mere blink for him, and he would be gone.

But until Michael departed with her, he had a job to do, and Chamuel’s instructions to keep an eye out for?—

Lore went motionless.

Something is amiss.

He scanned the room where the little human remained asleep. All seemed quiet. He didn’t sense a break in the wards, nor were there demons about. Yet his unease remained.

The faint odor of something burning drifted to him.

Eyes narrowed, he tracked for it but couldn’t pinpoint the source. And that he didn’t care for.

He flashed outside. Whatever was out there wouldn’t remain hidden for long.