The Lucifer kicked her back. “It was no longer doing its job,” he sneered. “Get a hold of yourself, woman.”
“How can I?” She panted, raising her hands to paw at her shoulder, her neck. The crow had been there, just a moment ago, its black wings protecting her from white, black eyes counteracting silver. No, no, gone! Gone! In grasping for the comfort of her companion, she opened scratches over her cheeks, neck, shoulders, but hardly felt them, whirling on the Lucifer. “You stole my last recourse!”
“I told you,” he said. “You needed punishment and you have received it. I am not beyond pity. Perhaps you can yet be of use.”
She was still panting, pulling at her hair, mingling it with the blood and sweat on her brow. Sweet smiles. Honeyed wine. Silver eyes. “He’s there…” she croaked. “Oh God, he wasn’t there a moment ago!”
“Well,” the Lucifer said, and stepped up, offering his hand. “Let’s see if we can’t drown him out with some more souls, hmm? How many were you thinking?”
She stared at him uncomprehending for a moment. Souls? He still offered? Yes. Souls. Gasping in effort, she clawed her way to sit up, then kneel, then stand, ignoring his hand. “My companion was the price for these souls?” she asked.
The Lucifer laughed. “Your companion held you back,” he said. “The sanity it granted, the reprieve. The last Lucifer wanted you tethered to its scaly leg. I want you unfettered.”
She stared, swaying in place for a moment, and finally licked her lips, nodding. “How many can you give me?” she rasped. “How many?”
“Thirty thousand.”
Was it worth it? Were thirty thousand souls worth the quiet her crow had granted her, the companionship, the understanding? She held back a sob and hardened her heart. The price had already been paid. If she backed down now…but to become such a monster? No, my love, something in her chuckled. Not like this. This will do nothing. She grit her teeth and ignored the voice. “Fine.”
The Lucifer loosened his cufflinks, drawing off his jacket. “Are you sure you can handle so many, Cyrene? It’s more than twice your current number.”
Sweet smiles. Silver eyes. Gentle eyes, then cruel. Cyrene heaved for breath and stepped forward, leaning into him, her voice deadly soft. “The angel Samael couldn’t break me.” She tugged at his shirt, and the buttons gave way. She ran her nails down his chest as he spread his arms with a satisfied smirk. She would not fall. Not to him. “You are nothing.”
* * * *
“Armand! Oh Armand, it’s so good to see you again.”
Armand opened his arms automatically to the dusky-skinned woman. “Giselle. You too. It’s been too long.” And it was all his fault. He was shocked they granted him leave to see her again at all.
Giselle fell into his embrace, ringing her arms around his neck and nuzzling his shoulder. “They talked about it, Armand.” She shivered. “The Fore said only your conduct in Chicago convinced them we could be together again.”
Armand held her tighter, stroking her hair. “I guess we’ve always known you were better at this Angel business than I.”
“That’s not true...” She pulled back, looking him over. “What happened there, Armand? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Giselle.” Stroking her cheek, he smiled. Her eyes were so beautiful, hazel-green against the candlelit oak of her skin. How he had missed them. “One of the Damned went mad and started tearing up the riverfront. We lost two but managed to force a retreat.” He smiled tightly. “I tricked her back into her own portal and once she realized what we were doing, she lit off.”
“I’m glad they found you capable,” Giselle murmured, peering at him with a faint smile. “I still don’t understand why they broke us up.”
Armand’s heart jumped into his throat. They hadn’t told her? They hadn’t explained? “What did they tell you?” he asked, steadying his shaking hand.
She took his hand and kissed the fingertips. “You’d disobeyed a direct order for my sake in Rome and they thought you needed time to sort out your priorities.”
Armand wasn’t sure whether to relax or tense. They hadn’t told her what he’d done, what he’d said. Was that good or bad? He swallowed. Both? Neither? He let out a breath. “Yeah, they said something similar to me.” And they had. Just not quite for the reason she thought. “We’ll just show ‘em what’s what this time around. Do you know what our assignment is?”
“No,” Giselle said, and hugged him once more. “Our meeting is in two minutes.” She hugged him again, sighing. “Being apart is awful, isn’t it?”
“Utterly.” He kissed her mahogany hair, wrapping his wings around her form and chuckled. “It’s been what? Two years?”
“Close enough, yes.” She splayed her fingers across his chest, stretching her wings and brushing them against his.
“I’m so sorry, Giselle…if I’d kept my head…”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “Shut up, Armand. I don’t know why they expected anything else from you.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Besides, I would have done the same.”
“Would you?” he asked softly, examining the dark tendrils of hair in his fingers, recalling the look of haughty disgust the Fore had given him when he made his case. The slow countdown of ways in which he was inadequate and unworthy of her and the greatness of the curse which kept them apart.
“Without a second thought.” She pulled away, smiling. “It’s about time.”
Armand nodded and kissed her forehead. This time, he wouldn’t screw it up. But he wasn’t going to let her come to any harm either. He’d die before that happened.
* * * *
“You are young, but we believe a bonded pair is better for this task than any of our single agents. We don’t know the extent of the problem, or if, in fact, these two will be a problem. They have not made trouble for any of our agents, and they have defied the Damned.”
Giselle folded her arms, staring at the picture–a side view of a man with dark hair and eyes, deep brown skin. A paler woman with mouse brown hair, arm in arm with the man. Samantha Parker and Eli Tawson. An Inbetweener who had defeated a greater Damned and turned away another, and the Damned who was, apparently, her lover. “Why are we watching them?”
The Fore handed her a file. A little strange how he almost seemed to ignore Armand’s presence. Maybe he was still cross with her partner. “As you may be aware, the balance has been off lately. Limited communication with the Damned office reveals they sense it too. They gave us the impression they knew what the problem was, but in six months it hasn’t righted itself. In fact, it’s grown steadily worse.” He tapped the file. “Turn to page six. Our Ibetweener contacts tell us Miss Parker was born under a prophecy to ‘right the balance’.”
“Seems a bit straight forward for prophecy.” Armand finally piped up.
“Quite right, Armand.” The Fore finally glanced over, only for a moment. Giselle found herself a touch offended. They were a pair, why was the Fore only addressing her? “This particular Inbetweener is rather bad at subtlety. She owns a voodoo shop on Bourbon Street.”
“Oh.” Giselle muttered. “That one.”
“I take it you’ve heard of her?”
“Said something about me being ‘fit for the cause’ at our introduction.” Giselle said, shaking her dark waves back. What the woman had said next still stung, but she made sure her face was calm. They always said her emotions, while admirable, were