Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6) (27 page)

Gregory nodded. “Not an easy task, given the increased scrutiny. Neither the Iblis nor I will be able to assist in this without drawing attention and risking the Nephilim further.”

“I know how to get Jaq out. Harper is going to be more difficult to relocate safely.” I told the two angels about Kirby’s Marble, and its limitations.

“Clever,” Gabriel mused. “Some humans clearly have put their angelic gifts to good use.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was decades of grueling lessons as a slave to the elves that had inspired this device.

“So, Alaska or Prussia?” Gabe asked.

Prussia. I barely held back a snort of laughter. This angel was so behind the times I was surprised he wasn’t calling the whole thing Pangaea.

I slurped my coffee loudly, earning a look of hatred from Gabe. “We can let them decide. Maybe divide them fifty–fifty between the two. But what do we do about Harper?”

“Wait until she gives birth?” Gabriel suggested. “The human can probably hide among the humans at that point. We could use the Kirby device to relocate the baby once it’s born, and she could follow him if she chooses.”

Well, that idea was full of big holes. And I was happy to point them out. “Yeah, and who’s to say some smarty–pants angel won’t know to follow the mother? Besides, the focus device is a durft. Half–angel or not, there’s no way a baby is going to be able to hold onto one of those suckers long enough to get where he needs to go.”

“I take it a durft is not a benign creature?” Gregory lifted one eyebrow as he took a sip of coffee.

“Uh, no. I’d rather wrestle a komodo dragon — and trust me, I have.”

Gabriel sat his full coffee cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Create another sanctuary?”

Sounded like a good solution to me, but Gregory grimaced. “There are few humans who have the skills to cloak the territory and those within it. We don’t have the time to spare in locating one with the appropriate abilities — these Nephilim could be found at any moment.”

Cloak? “Do you mean like the spell I have around my house? One where you can’t tell who is in it?”

Gregory shook his head, and I felt his touch along my spirit–self. “No, Cockroach. That spell makes the area appear as if there is a hole of nothing at your home. It draws attention to the spot, although we cannot detect who or what is inside. To create a sanctuary, the humans and other beings must register in our senses — their energy must come through the barrier. Others are cloaked. There is also a slight keep–away aura that acts as a mild deterrent. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that we consider the area to be unsavory and choose to avoid going there.”

That was a lot more complicated than Gareth would probably be able to handle. “I can check in Hel and see if there is a sorcerer who can do this. We’ve had a huge war among the elven kingdoms recently, though, and there aren’t as many high–level sorcerers as there used to be.”

“That would be of great help, Cockroach.” Gregory smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand. “We’ll make discrete inquiries of our own and do all we can to keep the werewolves and Nephilim safe in the meantime.”

“That might be more of a problem than you think,” Gabriel interjected. “The attack wasn’t just spurred by unregistered werewolves harboring Nephilim. There is word that proof has come about that the werewolves are
descended
from Nephilim. I expect at any moment, we will receive summons to review the data and pass judgment on the entire race.”

I caught my breath, thinking of Candy and all the werewolf friends I’d made over the past few years. I’d do all I could to save them, but what could one imp do against the entire angelic host? I might be the Iblis, but I wasn’t a god.

Gregory drained the contents of his coffee cup and stood. “Well then, we must find a solution immediately or decide which side of this war we will stand on, my brother.”

–24–

Y
ou out of jail already?” Nyalla’s breathless voice was barely audible above the background noise. She sounded happy, giddy almost. I hated to be the one to ruin her carefree night.

“Where are you? Is Candy with you?”

Candy had trusted me with her greatest secret. Jaq and the other werewolves had trusted me. Harper had trusted me. I felt sick at what had happened.

“Yeah, her and Michelle. We’re at the Eastside. There’s an awesome band tonight. Come on down. Did you know Nils can dance? No joke; he’s actually pretty good. Angels dancing — isn’t that hysterical?”

It would have been under other circumstances. “Tell Candy I need to talk to her. I’ll be right there.”

The Eastside Tavern was only a few miles from my house. I drove the Suburban to the back of the rear parking lot, across from the fragrant dumpster. It was my spot. Regulars smoking out on the front porch greeted me as I climbed the wooden stairs and made my way through the iron–barred door.

I could hear the music from route 26, and it only grew louder as I approached the bar. Nyalla was right in her assessment — it
was
a rocking band. Glasses and bottles clinked, patrons whooped, and feet stomped as the fiddle sang out side by side with an electric guitar and the deep vocals of a bare–chested, bearded man.

And Nils
could
dance. He was two–stepping with Michelle, her head thrown back in laughter as her long braids spun around. Nyalla sat at the bar with Candy, flashing an indecent amount of leg. I made my way through the crowd to the bar and touched the werewolf’s shoulder.

She took one look at my face and got to her feet, following me out the back door, where we could speak without having to shout at the top of our lungs.

“Do you know what happened? Did anyone tell you?” Stupid question. As if she’d be here, partying it up with friends if she knew.

Candy paled. “What? Harper? The baby?”

“They’re fine, and so is Jaq, but angels somehow found out about the sanctuary in West Virginia, and there was a raid. The wolves scattered, but many were killed.”

Claws sprouted from beautifully manicured nails. Candy’s jaw jutted forward, and teeth elongated into fangs. I felt everything twist inside me.

“It was my fault. Someone must have followed me, or sensed Jaq at my house. It was my fault, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it right.”

That was the most un–demonic thing I’d ever said — beyond the ‘I love you’ shit with Gregory and Wyatt, that is. Still, it was heartfelt. It was my fault, and I would go to any lengths to ensure the safety of the Nephilim and the werewolves. Every last one of them.

Candy, that cold, calculating, lying bitch, did something just as out of character as my emotional confession. She grabbed me and hugged me with all the strength of a werewolf. Her claws dug into my back, teeth gnashing along the skin of my neck. In spite of her meticulous hygiene, I’ve got to say that my friend had some tremendously bad breath in her half–wolf form.

“Not yourrrrr fault,” she growled in my ear. “My trust ith not misplaced in you. We will make this right. Together.”

I clutched her just as tightly, relishing the claws stabbing through my back. It was my sort of penance. “I will make this right. I promise.”

She pulled back, and, with a shudder of effort, retracted her claws and returned her jaw to its human appearance. I looked over her shoulder and saw Nils, one arm draped over Nyalla’s shoulder and the other over Michelle’s.

“Tell me what happened.” Candy’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Remember? You’re the muscle, and I’m the mind? Just like we did with Althean, we’ll fix this as a team.”

Yeah. That had ended with me bound to an angel. It had worked out in the long run, but hadn’t been so pleasant in the short term. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. These werewolves, these Nephilim, were mine, and I wasn’t going to give up on them.

Mine
.

Oh holy shit, when had I claimed them? Long ago. Long before Harper ever entered my house. How in the world could I possibly play this and make it work out?

Play it by the rules
. Gregory’s words echoed in my mind, but I had no time to contemplate their meaning in my current situation. I needed to secure a new sanctuary for unregistered werewolves and Nephilim. Pronto. Beckoning the others over, I explained the situation, and the difficulty over Harper’s transportation and her safety.

Candy ran a hand through her perfectly coiffed blond bob, spiking bits at odd angles. “So we try and get them to Alaska or Germany, or we find a sorcerer with the power to recreate a sanctuary nearby?”

“Or we come up with another idea.” I never wanted to rule out the possibility of some whacky alternative. Ideas that came out of left field were often the best alternatives.

“Other ideas.” Michelle pursed her lips. “Like the angels get hung up in paperwork over whether the werewolves and Nephilim are under their purview or yours? I mean, who really has jurisdiction in this sort of thing? If Nephilim are so horrible, then why aren’t they the responsibility of Satan?”

It was a fucking brilliant idea. I should have expected the niece of a Haitian priestess to come up with this. Ten–thousand years it had taken for the angels to decide the werewolves were the product of angel sin. If I could drag these debates into a jurisdictional one, string them out for another ten–thousand years, it would give me time to come up with some kind of permanent solution. Of course, there was no saying the angels wouldn’t just laugh in my face and go ahead and wipe out the entire race. Still, it was worth a try.

“I’ll try and get things held up in committee, but it’s a long shot. There’s a good chance they’ll go on killing them even before a decision is made on jurisdiction. But no matter how that goes, we need to find a safe space for Jaq, and especially Harper. Thoughts?”

Candy smoothed her hair. “Michelle and Nyalla can work their supernatural connections. Nils clearly knows angel politics. He can think of a short–term solution until we can secure a sanctuary. And I’ll do hands–on with the werewolves to keep everyone under the radar in the meantime. Deal?”

My mind raced, seeing the fine lines of connection between the werewolves and angels, tracing possibilities into the future. I might not be as skilled as Gregory and the other angels, but this tiny measure of omnipotence served me well.

“I need to see them. I need to meet with Jaq, Harper, and the werewolves. I’ll gate there. I’ll lock down my energy tight and travel as a human. Anything — but I must meet with them.”

Candy’s shrewd brown eyes met mine, and she reached out a manicured hand to clasp my own. “Done.”

***

Gabriel hadn’t risked moving them far. Jaq, Kelly, Harper, and six werewolves were ensconced in a huge hotel designed to look like a tudor–style chalet. The fact that it was perched on a cliff overlooking the Potomac River and a stone’s throw from the Antietam Battlefield added to the surreal atmosphere. I expected to see Civil War soldiers shooting it out with Heidi and blond dudes in lederhosen at any moment.

It had taken me about four hours of transporting myself all sorts of unexpected places to arrive here. For once, my fledgling angel skills worked to my advantage. Any angel trying to follow me was probably lost in Madhya Pradesh or Tiagba.

Candy hadn’t wanted to risk coming to the meeting, but she’d sent word. In spite of my excessive tardiness, the Nephilim, the vampire, and Harper were in the dining area of the inn, surrounded by half–empty plates of schweinebraten and sausages.

“I don’t know German,” Jaq pronounced woodenly. For a second, I wondered if the staff at the inn didn’t speak English then I realized the half–angel was referring to one of the two other sanctuaries.

“And I don’t have the best memories of Alaska,” Harper added.

I took a deep breath to calm my temper, which seemed more pronounced than usual these days. Clearly I was getting a lot of practice with the sin of anger.

“Okay, so Jaq goes to Alaska, and Harper goes to Germany. As soon as we can figure out how to get her safely there, that is.”

“Or we wait until a new sanctuary is secured here,” Kelly added.

Yeah, that damned vampire had survived, too. And she was just as glued to Jaq’s side as before. I glared at her, wondering if I could send her off to fetch coffee or some other mundane task. Probably not.

“We don’t have time for that. You might as well have a big arrow pointing at you from the sky, and sanctuaries don’t get built in a day. Fuck, we don’t even know if we can find a sorcerer or witch with enough oomph to establish a new one.”

“The angels know people,” Jaq assured me. “They built three of them. They’ve kept us hidden for thousands of years. They’ll come through.”

Probably not, but her faith in the angels was touching. Misguided, but touching.

“Even if they do, there’s no guarantee the new sanctuary will be in West Virginia,” I warned. Gregory hadn’t told me where he had in mind, but putting it smack dab on top of the previous sanctuary didn’t seem wise. “You could wind up in Argentina or Easter Island. Any of you speak Spanish, or whatever the fuck they speak on Easter Island? Huh?”

Yeah. Anger. My new sin of choice.

“I’m not leaving.” Seems anger wasn’t only
my
sin. Jaq smacked a fist onto the table, denting the surface. “West Virginia is my home. My pack is here; my human friends are here. I have a job, hunting grounds I know and love. I’m not leaving.”

Great. I glanced at the others. Kelly had put a supportive hand on her friend’s shoulder. Harper gnawed her fingernails, her speculative gaze roaming between Jaq’s freckled face and mine.

If this were just a matter of sanctuary, it would be one thing, but this problem was bigger than they knew. Should I tell them the entire werewolf race was facing extinction? That it probably didn’t matter where they stayed, or how secure Gregory and Gabe managed to make it; eventually they’d be found and killed? That there was a good chance they’d watch all of their werewolf friends die as they hid in safety? Maybe Jaq’s decision was right — better to go down fighting than cower under a rock and wait for inevitable discovery.

I watched Harper chewing her fingers in indecision. Her child would be ripped from her arms, her memory wiped. She’d go about her life as if nothing had happened. Sounded like the better deal of the lot, but I knew otherwise. Somewhere deep in her soul would be a wound the angels couldn’t heal. She might not remember why, but a part of her would always be damaged.