Dust of My Wings (3 page)

That was what she was. Average. Average looks, average intelligence and an average life. She wanted something more. Something, anything, to fight back the loneliness. Sure, she had a family, if you could call it that. There was a dad she never talked to and who was on a second honeymoon with his fourth wife. He said he was trying to rekindle the magic, but everyone involved knew it was only a matter of time before that faded away and he found Mrs. Number Five. She had a mom who was more passive-aggressive than the mom from the television sitcom
Everybody Loves Raymond. She
liked to belittle Lily and her choices every time she had a chance. But, other than that, Lily was alone.

No, that wasn’t true. She had her non-blood family: her six girlfriends. They were her family of choice. They were seven women of different ages and professions who came together at least once a week to celebrate their lives, even if sometimes there didn’t seem to be much to celebrate. They’d all met at their favorite bar, Dante’s Circle, over the years and ended up being best friends. In fact, she was meeting them tonight, so she had to get  moving.

“Hey, Lily, why are you still here?” Thad, the other lab tech on her floor, came up and hitched a hip on her desk. She held her breath but didn’t say anything as he moved her pens. His eyes widened, and he moved back then straightened them.

“Sorry about that. I know how you get,” he teased.

She flushed and shook her head. “It’s fine. Really. I hate being a dork.”

“You’re not a dork. You just like order. Nothing wrong with that.” He smiled, and his face lit up as if he wanted something.

Oh, no.

“So, Lily, you want to go grab a bite to eat tonight?”

She looked up at the younger man and tried not to groan. His dishwater-brown hair fell in his eyes like those skater boys, and he still hadn’t filled out his lanky body with muscle. He was only working here before he went off to graduate school. At twenty-one, he still had his life ahead of him. She felt old and worn out, and not at all interested in a romantic relationship with him.

“Sorry, Thad,  I can’t. I’m meeting the girls for drinks, but thanks anyway. Maybe another time.”  Or never.

Disappointment filled his eyes, but he kept a smile on his face.

Oh, God, I’ve just kicked a puppy.

“It’s okay. I understand. Well, I’m on my way out. Make sure you don’t stay too late. I don’t like you being here all alone. Do you want me to wait for you and walk you to your car?”

He was just so cute. In that ‘little brother’ way.

Lily shook her head. “I won’t be long, so you don’t need to wait for me. I’ll be fine. I promise. I have my whistle and pepper spray.” The town was relatively safe, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Thad grinned and tilted his head. “Okay, then. If you don’t really need me. Good night, and be safe. Have fun with the girls.”

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

With a wave, he walked out, and Lily shook her head. He really was kind of cute, but not for her, and way too young.

Lily glanced at the clock again. Okay, she had about twenty minutes before she really had to go. She didn’t have time to go home to change, so what she had on would have to suffice. It was just a drink with the girls. Something she desperately needed.

Her fingers flying across the keyboard, she worked at fitting peaks and labeling what she could. Before she knew it, her twenty minutes were up, and her head hurt. She really needed that drink. Sighing, she shut down her computer and packed up her purse. She straightened everything one last time and made sure her drawers were locked. With one last thought to that odd blue dust—
if not tomorrow, then
Monday, for sure
—she shrugged and walked to her car.

Outside the wind howled and rain began to fall as thunder rumbled in the distance. Oh, great, a storm. She brushed her bangs out of her face. Should she just go home? Was being out tonight worth the aggravation? Her back ached and her head throbbed, and a bubble bath sounded divine. But, after her lonely thoughts during the day, she really needed to be with her friends. Decision made, she ran through the rain and unlocked her car door. Once inside, she shivered and turned the car and heater on to warm herself.

Yep. She really needed that drink…and maybe a dark, handsome stranger.

A giggle escaped, and she shook her head. Well, maybe just that drink.

****

Striker paced in his room. Shade had been gone for two days after the human woman. The warrior hadn’t reached the council for updates or help as of yet, and Striker was getting annoyed.

With a huff, he turned again, his brown wings dragging on the floor. He hated the damn things. They were boring. Average. Angels of every caliber had better-looking wings than him, but he at least held the power where most didn’t. Other than his fellow council members, he was in charge, and if enough things went his way, and if his plan stayed on track, then he would be above the other members soon.

That thought brought an ease in his shoulders, and the tension he’d held since the dark warrior angel had walked into the council chambers faded away. He hated being relegated to a group of leaders. He wanted all the power. He wanted to rise above his average looks and reign supreme, and he would.

He’d been close—so close—before. Once, long ago, during the Angelic Wars. He’d led his armies and reveled in it, though that part of his past remained in secrecy. He couldn’t let the other angels know that he’d been the masked angel behind the greatest army that spread fear and instigated rebellion. No, that wouldn’t do at all. The current council—
sans
him—had fought and used their warrior angels to bring down Striker’s army. But that had been a calculated move on his part; at least that’s what he told himself. He let his second-in-command take the fall. The other angel had lost his wings—and his head—for the act.

Striker shrugged. At least it hadn’t been him. This time, instead of an all-out war of opposing forces, he’d take over from the inside. The other council members were old, unaccustomed to fighting in these times of peace. Even though angels were immortal, age did matter. As time passed, they became stuck in their ways and refused to embrace new things. With their experience came selfishness and haughtiness. They were the easy ones to mold and bend to his will.

It was the warriors who created the problem for him. Shade and Ambrose, in particular. Ambrose was older than he was and would be hard to take down.  Angels’ powers increased as they aged, a fact that pissed Striker off to no end. No matter how far he progressed, the bastard went even farther. Ambrose did have one large weakness—his protégé and best friend, Shade. Luckily, Shade had a more immediate problem involving his dust. Shade needed to clean up his mess or risk exposing the supernatural. If he were to fail, then the warrior would lose his wings, and he’d be out of Striker’s way when the time came. If Striker worked it right, then Ambrose’s need to help his friend would lead to his downfall, as well.

Striker laughed and wrung his hands. Yes. This would all work. It had to work. He just had to make sure the human woman figured out something was wrong with the dust, and exposed everything that was hidden. Striker would rule them all with an iron fist one way or another, but would she find it fast enough? He might have to intervene. That was what he did best. After all, he was the one who’d given the greasy human male, the woman’s boss, the dust in the first place.

Once the warriors failed, Striker would have his opening, and he’d finally get what he deserved after he lost it in the Angelic Wars. Power.

Chapter 3

Lightning sparked the night sky, and a heavy wind shook Lily’s car as she drove to the bar after she went home to change. She hadn’t planned on stopping to change what she was wearing, but she’d been soaked to the bone. After finding a cute top, pants, and calf-boots at home, and of course making sure everything was tidy, she’d scrambled back to her car and hurried to the bar. Cleaning up hadn’t been for something like bringing a man back or anything. Lily snorted. She might be lonely, but not that lonely. Now she was running late. She hated running late.

Her windshield wipers slapped against the glass, and she squinted to see. The rain came down in sheets, but the town had enough streetlights that it was safe enough to drive at night. Her house was located in the lower middle class area of town that merged with the not-so-nice area where Dante’s Circle was about five minutes away.

She loved the city. It was a smaller one, but not so small that everyone knew everyone else’s business, but not so big that she felt lost in the shuffle, even though sometimes she felt just that. Luckily, she had her friends to help her.

She pulled up to the bar and parked under the awning that Dante had added a few years before to keep everyone dry. Since it always seemed to rain in their town, it was needed. She noticed that her friends’ cars were already there.

Darn it. Her chest tightened as anxiety filled her. Being late wasn’t like her. Early was on time; being on time was late. Showing up over forty-five minutes late was painful. She turned off the car and grabbed her purse and her phone.

Six missed calls.

Aww. They were worried about me.

That should tell her something—either that her being late was an oddity, or that they really loved her. Probably both. Stupid work. Stupid boss. Stupid samples. She really needed that drink and to decompress with her friends.

Lily got out of the car and walked under the awning, careful not to step on any cracks in the pavement. Some might call her weird, but those were her quirks and she could live with them. Her friends might tease her about them, but they loved her for who she was. If only she could find a man to do the same.

She sighed. What was with her tonight? Lonely much?

When she opened the door and took a step inside, she smiled and sighed. Oh, how she loved this place. Dark cherry wood paneling on the bottom of the walls darkened the room, but the light cream paint on the top made it feel homey. Mirrors, framed photographs and pictures, and assorted knickknacks covered the upper part of the walls. Despite the fact it looked slightly cluttered, it fit the atmosphere.

A pool table stood off to the right where a group of drool-worthy men played. They didn’t look up when she walked in, and she tried not to let that hurt her. It wasn’t as if she dressed provocatively or anything, but it would be nice to have someone ogle her just once in a while.

Really?
Get a grip, Lily.

Dark wood tables with mismatched chairs were positioned randomly on the floor. Though her fingers itched to re-organize everything, this wasn’t her bar so she’d let it be. The large wooden bar stood in the back with its original Irish taps and mirror sent over the pond years before by the Dante family, or so he’d said.

Her usual table sat in the back corner on the way to the kitchen and bathrooms, but it was directly across from the bar and was the only large round table in the place. Her girlfriends were already sitting there, their drinks of choice in their hands.

“It’s about time you got here,” Dante said with a wink when he saw her enter. Built like a Mack truck, the man was damn sexy. He had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and arms that man would envy. Women fawned over him, but he never gave them a second look. He just smiled and poured their drinks. He had long blue hair with black streaks, that was currently in a ponytail, and tribal tattoos running down his arms—and maybe other places. Small black hoops hung in his ears, along with a smaller hoop in his right eyebrow, and he had a tongue ring that gave most women shivers. But not her—he was just a friend. A hot friend, but not one she’d ever date. Becca, one of her other friends and Dante’s bartender, often wondered if he had other piercings, but Lily was too afraid to ask him.

“Sorry, Dante.” Lily smiled and blew her bangs from her face. “Work ran late, and the weather sucks out there.”

“You want the usual?”

“That sounds great.” Oh, how she needed that drink.

Dante poured her an apricot wheat draft and slid it across the bar. She loved when he did that.

“Thank you, Dante.”

“No problem. Now go see those girls of yours. They were worried about you.” He looked over her shoulder at her group, and a look of longing passed over his face before he quickly blinked it away.

Did she imagine it?

“Lily! Get over here!” Eliana called. Her shaggy red hair falling in her face as she shook her head in Lily’s direction. A new bandage on her arm caught Lily’s attention. Eliana was an artistic welder who made the most beautiful metallic designs. Lily tilted her head in question, but the other woman just shook her head.

Okay, then.

“I’m sorry. Work caught up with me.” Wow, she sounded pathetic.

“It’s okay; we understand,” Nadie said. “We were just worried about you.” Nadie was the compassionate member of the group, a kindergarten teacher with soft, straight blond hair and vivid violet eyes that seemed to hide something beneath the sweetness.

“I saw the calls,” Lily said. “Thanks, you guys.”

“It’s no problem,” Jamie assured her. “It just wasn’t like you. I see you have your beer. Tell us about work.” Lily had always admired Jamie’s striking looks. She had beautiful brown hair that framed her caramel-color face, but Lily knew she could never pull off the blunt bangs. She was the owner of a small bookstore where they sometimes hung out when not at the bar.

“Just the usual,” Lily explained. “Too much work, not enough time. I hate my boss.”

“That greasy man?” Faith asked. She ran her fingers through her black bob, leaving it in its perpetual state of disarray. Faith was their resident photographer and always had a camera on her or nearby. Lily looked down at the floor near Faith’s feet, and saw the camera bag and she held back a smile.