Kendra Leigh Castle - Renegade Angel

Not soon enough, though. Not before the horseman called Plague had ridden off into the night.

“This is one of the thin places,” Uriel said softly, looking directly at him. “And I have no doubt there is an actual Nexus point here, where Hell touches Earth.”

“You think the woman is the key,” Levi said, threading long, elegant fingers together on the table. “How?”

“I wish I knew,” Uriel growled furiously, fists clench ing reflexively on the table. “I can’t seem to see their kind like I used to be able to. The half-breeds are like the rest of the Lost Ones, without hope, without Light. What reason was there for us to watch them destroy themselves? Except … now I can’t seem to see like I should … and the Balance is precarious enough as it is … “

“Oh, come on, Uriel,” Gadreel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You can whip yourself later, in private. I may be a demon, but that’s not really my thing.”

Raum just watched Uriel’s impotent fury with interest, and no small amount of trepidation. Right now, the Balance, the natural equilibrium between Light and Dark here on Earth, was the only thing standing between him and a permanent swim in a flaming river. And it was hard enough to maintain without a seven-on-one fight against the demon horde. He couldn’t really count the angels as allies, though they’d be fighting, too; he was pretty sure that most of them would be happy to use him and his fellow exiles as shields.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the side of his beer bottle and tried to focus. It fit right in with his current run of miserable luck that he’d find himself up against one of the only things he had absolutely no control over. The natural Balance on Earth was a thing that neither the Dark nor the Light truly understood. One side fought it, the other accepted it, but nothing changed the fact that there were only ever as many demons allowed to walk in the Above as there were angels. The mysterious safeguard, however, could be affected by Earth’s natural magic and the humans with the ability to wield it. Even a small fluctuation in the Balance could have big consequences … the summoning of a demon noble, for instance, which occasionally ended badly for the demon and almost always ended badly for the Summoner, as well as almost everyone within a ten-mile radius.

At least the humans themselves had weeded out the Summoner bloodline. The ability to call and enslave demons had been one of his least-favorite facets of Earth magic.

But in any case, opening a Hellhole was a hundred thousand times worse.

“Fine. If Ember Riddick is the key, then we’ll just take her out. Boom. Done. End of problem,” said Gadreel, making a slashing motion across his throat with an unrepentant smile.

Raum and Uriel spoke in unison.

“No.”

He could feel Gadreel and Levi staring at him, but there was no going back now. He thrust his chin up defiantly and glared at Uriel.

“She’s not a normal half-breed,” he said. “I don’t know why, but Ember Riddick is … different. Not violent. Not stupid. Definitely not insane.”

“She liked you, ” Gadreel muttered, “so that last part’s debatable.”

“Hmm,” Uriel said, his dark eyes searching Raum’s face. His expression turned thoughtful, softening fea tures that seemed to have been chiseled from stone. Raum watched him think, dreading what he would come up with. He knew better than to underestimate the seraphim, little as he cared for their company. They weren’t the greatest of the warrior-angels for nothing.

“Let me try to understand this. You think we’re sitting on top of a Nexus point, you’re fairly sure that a local half-breed is about to blow it wide-open, and … your solution is to do nothing? ” Gadreel whipped his head around to glare at Raum. “And you … she’s just a sexy little slice of evil, Raum, nothing more. I’ve had twists of tail just as enticing a thousand times over! If you’re that hard up, screw her before we send her back to Hell, but don’t be an idiot!”

“You will not touch the woman,” Uriel said, that deep golden glow beginning to pulse from him once again. “There will be no murdering of innocents, Gadreel, and this woman has hurt no one. It may be that she has enough Light in her to stand against the darkness … though I’ve never seen such a thing from her kind … but she will not be harmed by you, or our arrangement is at an end and you can damn well fend for yourself. Is that understood?”

Gadreel glared at him, seething. “Whatever you say, boss, ” he finally hissed, his eyes the vibrant green of the snake within. “But don’t think I’m babysitting her.”

“Fortunately, that’s one area where we agree,” Uriel said, still pulsing with furious light, though his expression was neutral. Raum knew the tone of voice well, though. It was the one the angel used when he was trying, very hard, to refrain from shouting.

“What do you need from us?” Levi asked, and Raum saw him give Gadreel a sidelong glance that promised bloodshed if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I need the Nexus found, the exact location of the touch point. I don’t want to flood the town with my legions until we know for certain where it is, because I’m afraid that’s just going to push things along that much faster. At that point, there are certain things that can be done … “ He trailed off, looking troubled. “Well. We’ve done it before. I don’t want this place to end up like Hiraeth.”

Raum had been back once, to the location of the tiny village where Hell had broken loose, and found nothing but a patch of scorched earth where nothing would grow, where animals came to die and where men, if they lingered overlong, went mad. It was a desecrated place. Perhaps it would always be.

He looked out the window again, at the oblivious humans, and wondered whether that would happen here. And oddly, his thoughts went immediately to Ember, the sadness in her eyes right before she’d run away from him. How would she feel about causing such destruction? Would she break free of her humanity in triumph? Or would she just … break?

He felt a strange pull of something that felt almost like melancholy at the thought. Which was ridiculous. He’d sworn off feelings long ago. And why the hell did he care anyway? Maybe Gadreel was right, for once. He needed to get his head out of his ass … or his pants.

Uriel was still blathering on, puffed up, Raum thought irritably, with his own seraphic importance.

“In the meantime, I think it would be best for me to assign the woman a temporary Guardian to watch over her—”

“Fine,” Raum said, cutting him off. “I’ll do it.”

Uriel stopped short, staring at Raum as though he’d just grown another head. The look alone was worth the immediate shock to his own system. Had he actually said that? Out loud?

“I … appreciate the offer, Raum. But I was more think ing of someone who would appeal to her better nature,” Uriel said slowly.

“Won’t work,” Raum said with a shake of his head. “She’ll have to make peace with her worse nature if she wants to live. Gadreel is perfectly capable of finding the Nexus. I’ll be her Guardian.”

The seraph frowned. “I didn’t ask. Last time I checked, you were the opposite of a Guardian Angel.”

“And yet I’ll be watching over her anyway,” Raum replied, crossing his arms over his chest, fully prepared to argue … and win. “Imagine that.”

“Raum.” Uriel’s tone was warning, but Raum’s mind was made up.

“She’s mine. Deal with it.”

The words came out strangely, giving him pause. Still, he meant them, if only in the most temporary sense. He’d brought out the demon in Ember once, and easily. He’d no doubt see quickly that she really was no different from every other stinking half-breed on the planet. When she broke, which she would, he could handle whatever she threw at him until the damned cavalry arrived to save the day. He’d get over this stupid thing about the woman, she’d get shuttled off to Hell that much sooner, and best of all, Uriel would be pissed off the whole time.