Avenging Angel (The Fallen #4)(46)

She took his hand, not even seeming to see the claws. She’d been so afraid of them before. But now . . .

“Let’s get out of here,” she told him.

They needed to haul ass. Needed to find Cody and make sure the captain wasn’t going after him next.

How many more dead bodies? Blood was starting to fill the streets in the Big Easy.

“I can help you!” Jonathan’s stare was fierce as he gazed at Marna. “Just give me a chance to make things right.”

But she wasn’t looking at him. She’d already turned away and headed for the door, giving them both a view of her slim back.

“Why doesn’t she have wings?” Jonathan’s voice. Quieter now. Curious.

Afraid?

Tanner stared down at his claws. Long. Lethal.

Monster.

“Because they were sliced away.” He tossed the key to the cuffs, threw it toward the far wall. By the time Jonathan freed himself, they’d be long gone. He marched toward his partner. Kept his claws out. “A shifter’s claws can slice through just about anything.”

He could smell Jonathan’s fear. The panther liked that scent.

Tanner brought his claws up to Jonathan’s throat. “You ever shoot at her again, and you’ll see just how sharp they truly are.”

A fast nod. “I-I swear, I—”

“Stay the hell away from her.” Because he wouldn’t play so nicely the next time.

Then, because Jonathan had shot at her, Tanner punched him once more. The guy hit the floor, and Tanner knew he’d be out for a while.

That would give Tanner plenty of time to disappear with his angel.

“Sorry, partner, but I just don’t trust your ass.” Right then, there were only two people he trusted.

His brother—and his angel.





Bastion stared down at the male human. Paul Hodges. Weak. Helpless. His body was bruised and battered, and connected to a dozen different beeping machines.

Doctors and nurses rushed around him. Some barked orders. Others grabbed for needles. Tubes.

They were trying to save the cop.

They weren’t going to succeed.

Bastion stepped closer. The male’s eyes were closed. Drugs poured through his system, but . . .

The cop’s body twitched.

You know I’m here.

The dying always knew when an angel was close. Paul’s eyelids began to jerk.

The cop would die young. Leave behind no family. A few friends. He’d drift right away.

But his life had served a purpose. Did he realize that? He’d been useful.

A tool.

A broken tool, one that had been cast away now.

Bastion eased closer to the bed. No one else there could see him. Only humans were in the room.

They could only see his kind when their time was at hand.

“We’re losing him!” one of the nurses shouted.

No, they’d already lost him. They just didn’t realize it yet. He’d been lost from the moment his patrol car had stopped on that dark road. He should have stayed away from the shifter and the lost angel.

Should have kept driving.

But . . . really, there was no changing fate.

Paul’s eyelids flew open. His stare locked right on Bastion. He tried to scream.

Impossible, of course, especially since he had a tube shoved down his throat.

“Time to go,” Bastion told him and lifted his hand.

But Paul began to thrash violently. His head shook, back and forth, and his right arm flew out.

His fingers clenched round a scalpel. Someone screamed.

The cop tried to use his weapon on Bastion.

Strange. He hadn’t expected the human to fight so fiercely.

Paul’s eyes were stretched wide, and fear rolled from him in waves.

A doctor wrestled the scalpel away from him. “We’re trying to help you!” the man shouted.

Trying, failing.

Paul kept fighting. Tears slid from his eyes and a mewling sound broke from his throat.

Bastion’s hand lowered over the man’s chest.

Paul shrank back. The fear in his eyes deepened.

Paul looked at Bastion, saw him for exactly what he was, and the cop was terrified by that sight. Why? Paul hadn’t led a bad life. No agonies waited on the other side for this man.

Yet the human feared.

He fears me.

Bastion’s wings stretched behind him. The human stared at them with . . . recognition?

A low, long humming filled the operating room.

“He’s flat-lining!”

And the human’s eyes stayed open. Terrified.

Another soul to take.

Bastion’s wings spread more as he rose. He wondered . . . when had he begun to dread his duty?

To resent the souls?

I want more.

An image of Marna flashed before his eyes. Not the Marna he’d known before. Quiet. Innocent.

Perfect.

The Marna he’d seen just a little while ago. Moaning. Eager. Flushed with pleasure.

I want more.

The doctors and the nurses gasped when a long, thick crack ripped across the ceiling.

I’ll have more.

And he left, without taking the soul of Paul Hodges.





CHAPTER TEN

“Where are we going?” Marna asked as she hunched down into her seat. They’d headed away from the city, and the only light that she saw now came from the heavy, thick moon that hung low in the sky.