Semi fallen, p.3
Semi-Fallen, page 3
Still…was this Nephilim special somehow? Different than the others? Was she an anomaly, or had he been lied to?
He needed to talk to her. It was the only way. He needed to hear her words and look into her soul. There was no way he could proceed with his mission without being sure she was what Heaven said she was.
Not wanting to waste another moment, he dropped the veil around him.
“Now!”
The shout came from the girl’s closet and ushered in noise, chaos, and confusion.
Before Lucien could raise a hand to defend himself, he was knocked to the ground, where three dhampyres and a demon wrenched his arms behind his back and slapped a set of metal cuffs around his wrists. A fourth human locked a metal collar around his neck.
“I don’t want to hurt any of you,” Lucien said through clenched teeth, his cheek pressed firmly to the floor.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, sparky,” a voice he recognized only too well said from the corner of the room.
Harper Hall.
He’d met this woman years ago when he’d helped bring her stepdaughter and Gabriel back from the hell dimension.
“Son of a bitch,” another familiar voice grumbled. “It’s the fucking angel.”
Gabriel Malek. The demon in question. The demon who now had his knee in Lucien’s back.
Lucien was immediately wrenched to his feet. His gaze shot to the Nephilim, who was sitting up in her bed, staring back at him with eyes so wide she looked like a cartoon character.
She’d set him up. Not only had she known he was watching, but she also executed a plan to trap him. And he’d been none-the-wiser all day.
Clever, wicked girl.
He’d admire her resourcefulness if he wasn’t being manhandled. But, given the circumstances, he wasn’t feeling that generous.
Lucien cut his eyes to Harper, who had a crossbow pointed at his heart. Again, he would’ve found that hilarious if they hadn’t knocked him to the ground, cuffed him, and collared him like a mongrel. “You have to know that won’t kill me.”
She grinned at him, seemingly unconcerned that she was wielding a useless human weapon against an angel—one who could smite everyone in this building if he so desired. “Yeah, but it’d probably hurt.” She shrugged. “That’s all I’m really going for at this point.”
Next to her, her husband, Noah Riddick, crossed his arms over his chest and practically snarled at him like a rabid wolf. “We don’t appreciate anyone stalking one of our own,” he said, menace dripping from his hard, rumbling voice. “Consider yourself lucky we stopped to ask questions before getting sword happy.”
The other person who’d helped knock him to the floor, Riddick’s sister, Seven, held up a short sword that had obviously been sharpened and polished with great care. Lucien had no doubt she could’ve beheaded him with that weapon.
She frowned at her brother. “There’s nothing happy about my sword. I take it very seriously. You know that.”
“I know, sweetheart. It’s just a figure of speech.”
Her frown deepened. “I still don’t like those. I’ve never liked them. Why can’t everyone just say what they mean?”
“Hear, hear,” Gabriel muttered.
Harper blew a wayward curl out of her eyes. “Because that’s boring. Figures of speech spice things up—make everything more interesting. Like cuss words and weird pop culture references.”
Lucien remembered this kind of familial banter from the last time he’d been here. He hadn’t enjoyed it then, and he certainly didn’t enjoy it now. “Allow me to say exactly what I mean,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your silver cuffs might incapacitate a demon or a shifter, but not me. They might weaken me, but trust me when I say that even weakened, you will not survive a fight with me.”
There was that annoying, Harper Hall grin again. “Wow, you’re just a font of info I already know. See, the cuffs are only Plan A, since we weren’t sure what kind of paranormal stalker we were dealing with. Plan B is way better...and scarier.”
That’s when the vampires stepped into the room.
Wolf Hunter was the oldest vampire in existence. Lucien imagined even the vampire himself didn’t know that fact. But his age made him a formidable opponent, even for an angel.
And at the moment, Hunter seemed to be channeling every bit of power he had into holding Lucien immobile. Between the silver cuffs and collar and the vampire’s hold, Lucien wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
Well…fuck.
Hunter’s wife, Mischa, who was the second strongest vampire Lucien had ever seen, rushed in behind Hunter and launched herself at the Nephilim. After a hug that looked to crush the air out of the girl’s lungs, Mischa leaned back and spoke to her daughter in frantic sign language.
That was puzzling to Lucien. If this girl—Lane—was deaf, could she really be a Nephilim? He’d never heard of a Nephilim with any kind of disability. They were typically superhuman in all aspects. Could his search have led him astray? Was it possible he’d been stalking an innocent human all along?
Lucien took his temporary incapacitation to study Lane. (After all, what else was he going to do while he was cuffed, collared, and held immobile by the most powerful vampire in existence?)
She looked human. Small. Delicate. Fragile. But that was where the similarities ended. Other than her adoptive parents and Lucien himself, Lane was easily the most powerful being in the room. The dhampyres and the demon were strong…but she could crush them.
There was no way he was wrong about her.
So why couldn’t she hear?
He supposed that was a question for another time. For example, say, when he wasn’t cuffed, collared, and being held immobile by the most powerful vampire in existence.
Haven Hall skidded around the corner into the room and nearly toppled when she slipped on the small area rug next to Lane’s bed. Her father caught her seconds before she would’ve fallen face-down on the floor.
“Holy crap,” she muttered, glaring at the rug as if it had actively conspired to bring her down. “Thanks, Dad.”
He righted her and frowned. “I told you to stay home tonight.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. Lane’s my best friend. There was no way I wasn’t going to get a look at the douchebag who’s been stalking her.”
Then her gaze shifted to Lucien and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” Haven muttered. “It’s you! I remember you. I knew your energy looked familiar!”
He remembered her, too. It had ultimately been young Haven’s impassioned words that had encouraged him to help rescue Gabriel from the hell dimension all those years ago. Gabriel, who had just helped capture him. Traitor.
The demon still looked shell-shocked. “What are you doing here, man? You left on some sort of mission from God and we never heard from you again. Now you’re here, stalking Lane? What the fuck?”
“I have my reasons.”
Reasons he’d rather not say aloud in a room of powerful beings who might get—what had Riddick said?—sword happy. Angels could survive practically any attack, but being beheaded was fatal to everything with a pulse.
“Release me,” Lucien added, “and I’ll explain everything.”
“Riiiggghhhttt,” Harper said. “’Cause you’re harmless as a kitten, I’m sure. That’s a no from me, sparky.”
He shrugged. Well, he shrugged as well as he could while still under Hunter’s power. “Then I’m in no hurry to speak to any of you.” He glanced Hunter’s way. “I can do this all day. Can you?”
There was not even a trace of humor in Hunter’s answering smile—a smile that put his deadly fangs on display in a big way. “Try me.”
Seven tilted her head to one side, studying him in a way that made him a little uncomfortable before saying, “We could try torture. That usually works.”
Riddick shrugged. “I like it. Simple. Straightforward. Effective.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “You guys always go right to torture. There are other methods of getting information out of people, you know.”
“They take too much time,” Seven said at the same time Riddick said, “They aren’t as fun.”
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That won’t work anyway. I mean, no offense, Seven, I’ve seen you torture people and you’re an artist, but he’s been tortured by my father. He can take whatever you can dish out.”
That much was true, Lucien thought. He didn’t like to remember those days—the pain, the hopelessness, the praying for a swift death. Thinking about it always took him to a dark place, and there was little point in living like that. But that time had made him stronger than he’d ever imagined possible. He supposed he should be thankful for that.
He wasn’t, though.
If Gabriel’s father wasn’t already dead, Lucien would kill him. Slowly. Creatively. Painfully.
Haven winced. “Whoa. His aurora just got…weird.”
Mischa stopped signing with Lane long enough to ask, “Define weird.”
Her nose scrunched up. “Like dark and twisty, then kind of revenge-y.”
Riddick cracked his knuckles. “Well, that’s all I need to hear. Torture it is.”
Harper put a hand on her husband’s chest when he made a move toward Lucien. “Wait a minute. Revenge-y doesn’t mean revenge-y against Lane. They don’t even know each other. That wouldn’t make sense.”
Gabriel sucked in air through his teeth. “Fuck. I think I know why he’s here.”
When he didn’t say anything, Mischa snapped, “Are you going to tell us, or make us play twenty questions?”
He visibly swallowed hard before saying, “When Lucien left here all those years ago, he was looking for a Nephilim—the offspring of a human and an angel. They’re forbidden because—”
Harper made a speed it up motion with her hands. “Yes, yes, dangerous abominations. We’ve all seen Supernatural. We know what Nephilim are. We all know angels are supposed to kill them. Speed it up.”
Seven looked pleased. “I’ve seen that show! I understood that reference!”
Harper offered her a knowing smile. “Dean Winchester, am I right?”
Gabriel ignored them both. “Well…I think he’s here because he found his Nephilim.”
And that’s when all eyes turned to Lane.
Then they all looked back at him, their expressions going colder and darker than he ever could’ve imagined.
Well, this is it, Lucien thought. This is how my millennia-long life is going to end. Slaughtered by an angry mob of dhamypres, demons, and vampires, while the Nephilim I’m supposed to destroy looks on.
Just fucking fantastic.
CHAPTER 6
Lane wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected to see when her stalker finally made his move, but it wasn’t…him.
First of all, why would an angel (and she never would’ve guessed in a million years it was an angel following her) think she was a Nephilim? She had some powers, sure, but she was just a girl who’d been dumped at an orphanage in China when she was three days old. Why would anyone assume she was God’s enemy number one?
And second of all…damn. He was stunning.
When she’d read about angels, they were often portrayed as cherubic. Non-threatening. But this angel was anything but cherubic and non-threatening. He looked exactly like what he was: one of Heaven’s most dangerous warriors.
The angel was at least a foot taller than her, and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds of pure, solid, lean muscle. The way he filled out a plain black T-shirt and beat-up jeans was practically pornographic.
And his face…phew.
Now Lane knew what people meant when they said someone was so handsome, they had the face of an angel, because this angel’s face was breathtaking.
The sharp cheekbones, the raven-winged brows, the square jaw covered in a light dusting of scruff, the bluer-than-blue eyes…it had all been designed with a purpose in mind.
Luring prey.
He was a hunter, and apparently, she was the prey.
Haven caught her eye and signed to her, His name is Lucien. He’s the angel who helped save Addy and Gabriel from the hell dimension.
A chill skated down her spine as she shifted her gaze back to Lucien and found him staring back at her with an intensity that was…startling. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her, kill her, or fuck her.
And the truly scary part? She didn’t think he knew, either.
Her mother eyed Lucien with a pissed off, maternal gleam in her eye that would’ve terrified a lesser man. “I could rip his heart out,” she said. “I doubt he’d be ready to hunt anyone after that.”
“We don’t know that more wouldn’t just come to take his place,” her father said.
Haven’s hands moved furiously as she translated everything that was being said. Lane could’ve kissed her. It was exhausting trying to read everyone’s lips when there were this many people in the room.
And she didn’t want to miss a word of any of it.
“Beheading would work, too,” Seven said, then held up her sword. “I just sharpened the blade. He probably wouldn’t even feel a thing.”
Riddick frowned. “Are we supposed to care if he feels it?”
Harper looked horrified. “We can’t behead an angel! I can’t go into confession all, ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I killed a fucking angel of the Lord!’”
Seven blinked at her. “You probably shouldn’t say fucking in confession.”
“Yes, because my cussing is what would get me sent directly to hell in that scenario.”
Riddick gave them both a what the hell, palms-up gesture. “I’ll behead him. I’m probably going to hell already anyway, and I’ve never been to confession. Done and done.”
Seven tossed him the sword as he moved toward Lucien and he caught it smoothly, lifting it high, ready to swing.
Something akin to panic seized Lane’s heart as she saw that blade headed toward Lucien’s neck. She couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, she knew losing him would be devastating.
A sound must’ve escaped her throat, because everyone in the room doubled over, wincing, clutching their ears.
Everyone but Lucien, that is.
Riddick dropped the sword, and her father must have lost his grip on Lucien, because the angel snapped his cuffs and collar, and shot forward so quickly he was nothing but a blur. He grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up against his chest.
“We need to talk,” he said through obviously gritted teeth.
And then…nothing. Blackness swallowed them whole.
Instead of killing the Nephilim, he’d just kidnapped her from her heavily fortified home filled with powerful supernatural creatures who wanted him dead.
This day was indeed a curious one.
But while Lucien might not be sure why he kidnapped Lane, he knew exactly where to take her.
As soon as their feet hit the warm, moonlight-gilded sand of the Hawaiian beach that was, so far, Lucien’s favorite place in this Earth dimension, he let go of her. Touching her only served to confuse him more than he already was. Her sweet scent, the strength hidden in her diminutive frame, the raw power that thrummed through her veins…it was all pleasing to him. Alluring.
It shouldn’t be. He had no business actually liking anything about her. Sparing her would mean the end of the only existence he’d ever known.
But what if she’s more important than your comfortable existence?
That little voice in his head—the one that had kept him from smiting Lane when he had the chance—was really starting to annoy him.
She stumbled back a few steps when he released her, a frown line knitting her smooth brow as she looked behind him at the ocean.
Her gaze shot back to his and he shrugged. “I like it here. The water calms me. Helps me think clearly.”
One of her brows arched as she signed, It helps you think clearly about how you plan to kill me?
What a puzzle she was. No tears? No begging for mercy? Her defiance—much like everything else about her—fascinated him. “It helps me consider why I haven’t killed you already.”
There was that defiant look again. And?
“I’m not sure,” he murmured. “Tell me, Lane, why do you use your powers to stop demons? You could do anything you wanted to do. Why do that?”
She looked confused by the question. As if no one had ever asked it before. Because normal people can’t do it, she signed. If not me and my family, who would protect the humans?
“Do you think the humans would put themselves at risk to save you if they knew what you were?”
My help isn’t transactional. I don’t save people so that they’ll return the favor. Besides, I don’t need their help. They need mine.
“So, you have a moral compass, is that it?”
She gave him the universal “well-duh” shrug. That was interesting, too. Not only was she defiant, she was willing to openly mock him. No one mocked angels. There was plenty of bowing, praying, and pleas for mercy when his prey learned what he was, but never mocking.
Strangely enough…he enjoyed it.
Is my moral compass a problem for you? she signed.
“It is,” he answered, dead serious. “You don’t appear to be the soulless monster I’ve been led to believe all Nephilim are.”
Sorry to disappoint.
He laughed out loud at that. He couldn’t help it. “You’re very much not a disappointment, Lane Hunter.”
She seemed to relax a bit at his words. He saw the tension ease out of her shoulders as she looked up at him and signed, What makes you sure I’m a Nephilim?
“Your energy. Your strength. You feel like…part of me, if that makes sense. Do you feel it, too?”
She desperately didn’t want to feel it. He could see that clearly on her face. But she nodded.
“That’s angelic grace,” he told her. “Yours calls to me. Just like mine calls to you.”
