Fallen by Suzanne Wright

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I was actually a little disappointed.”

Pausing in typing an email on his phone, Maddox frowned at the bartender. “You were disappointed that no brawls occurred? You spent most of yesterday complaining to me that there were bound to be brawls between them and our lair and that you didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout.”

“Yeah, but a part of me was hoping we’d get to kick some angel ass,” said Alonso, hanging a glass above the bar. “I know they chose to fall, but they’re still angels for the most part. Viper must have warned them all to curb their behavior, though, because they were polite as my Grandma Edna.”

“Your grandmother’s name was Ophelia, not Edna. And she was never polite.”

“You know what I mean.” Alonso held up a bottle of bourbon. “Want a refill?”

Maddox nodded. “Sure.”

Alonso topped up Maddox’s glass and then went back to cleaning the long bar. The club would open in a few hours, and the space would be filled with people, music, and flashing strobe lights. For now, with only him and Alonso around, it was quiet.

Maddox took a swig of his drink and turned his attention back to the email he’d been typing. He’d no sooner pressed “send” than two things happened. One, he sensed that he and Alonso had company. Two, Alonso cleared his throat hard.

Maddox twisted on the barstool. Ten hooded figures stood around, still as statues, their jewel-like eyes focused on him. If they thought concealing their halos would disguise them somehow, they were wrong.

His inner demon stretched with a grin, looking forward to what would come next. It had been itching for a fight since learning that Raini was on someone’s shit list. Which was why Maddox had left a “hole” in his security measures to allow any angels to enter the club—a hole he’d now closed, trapping the halo-bearers inside.

“Ah, more of Castiel’s boys,” said Maddox, sounding as calm as he did bored. “How is your puppet master?”

Stiffening, they exchanged glances.

Maddox gave Hector a telepathic heads-up and instructed him to round up the others. The entire lair was already prepared for such a situation; they knew what to do.

The angel who appeared to be leading the mob dropped his hood, and the others followed suit. “We are not here to fight,” he said. “We only want to talk.”

“She wouldn’t do this, Raini. No way,” Evangeline insisted. “You and Demi might not see eye to eye, but she’s your sister. She loves you. She wants what’s best for you.”

Leaning back against Harper’s office desk, Raini was glad that she and her mother were having this conversation over the phone, because Evangeline would have noticed the “yeah, right” look on her face. Maybe Demi did feel some sort of sisterly affection for Raini, but she’d never wanted good things for her.

“She wouldn’t boycott your business,” Evangeline went on. “She knows how much the tattoo studio means to you.”

Which was why some people believed Demi might be responsible. Well that and she was mysteriously missing.

It had been a few days since it first became apparent that the boycotting was focused on Raini. Dwain was still in the wind, and no one could locate Harmony either. Just as irritating, no one had been able to trace the origin of Emmett’s email because he’d used a proxy server to mask his IP address.

Thinking that Demi might know where Dwain would hide, Jolene had sent Ciaran to retrieve her from the cruise ship. But after speaking with the friends she’d booked the trip with, Ciaran had discovered that she’d never boarded. Also, she’d apparently texted one of said friends to explain that she’d had to cancel due to an emergency.

People had tried calling Demi ever since, but her phone was switched off. Their attempts to telepath her had been equally unsuccessful—they’d hit a “wall” each time. She possessed the ability to block telepathic contact, and it appeared that she was currently utilizing said ability.

Evangeline believed that Demi, heartsore about Dwain being “mated,” must simply want some alone time. It was possible. Raini wasn’t sure what to believe. People did many cruel things while hurting, even to their own family, so she couldn’t make herself dismiss the idea that Demi wouldn’t slyly attempt to boycott Urban Ink.

“Your dad and uncles are hunting Dwain like bloodhounds.” Raini had suspected they would. “There are a lot of people looking for Dwain. He’ll be found sooner or later.” Hopefully sooner.

“His parents swear they have no idea where he could be, but I’m not sure I believe them. He’s their son. They wouldn’t give him up. I wouldn’t give you or Demi up. I wouldn’t want to believe either of you were … ” Evangeline let the sentence trail off, realizing she’d all but admitted that her love for her daughters could be muddying her thoughts.

“Guilty,” Raini softly finished.

“That doesn’t mean I’m being willfully blind here. I’m not only believing what I want to believe. I know my daughters. I know what they’re capable of. Demi isn’t capable of any of this,” Evangeline insisted, her voice breaking. And then she was sobbing.

Her stomach sinking, Raini closed her eyes. “Don’t cry, Mom.”

“I’ll speak to you again later, sweetheart,” Evangeline croaked, and then the line went dead.

Raini put a hand to her forehead. Her mother never cried. Ever. She always kept it together, no matter what was happening. Hearing her sobbing like that … God, Raini hated all this.

The door creaked open, and Khloë popped her head inside the office. “You okay?”

“Eavesdropping again?”

“I don’t have a truthful answer to that question that won’t irritate you.” Khloë crossed to her. “Your mom’s struggling to accept that Demi could be Emmett, huh?”

Raini nodded. “I’m struggling to accept it myself.” Her demon didn’t find it so unlikely. “My mom thinks ‘Emmett’ can only be Dwain. He’s Maddox’s main suspect, too.”

“He doesn’t suspect any of his own lair?”

“He admitted that one or two might feel inclined to pull this crap, and he swore he’d question them. When I later asked how it went, he said there was no evidence linking them to the crimes.”

Raini had pushed for more info, but he’d been delightfully vague. If he did truly suspect any of them, he wasn’t prepared to admit it to her. Probably because he worried she’d tell Jolene, who might then be way too tempted to question them herself.

Since learning of the boycotting extravaganza, Maddox had begun telepathically checking in more than usual. He also came to Raini each night, and he always took her at least twice before leaving. He never stayed over, but she hadn’t expected that he would. They weren’t a couple, they weren’t building anything. Plus, Maddox seemed the type who liked to sleep alone; who liked his space.

His demon always surfaced during sex, even if only briefly. It had developed a habit of biting her—usually on her neck, but any part of her seemed to be fair game. The bites were never hard enough to draw blood, but they weren’t light little nips either. She’d once mentioned it to Maddox with a raised eyebrow. He’d only shrugged, blasé.

Just then, the studio’s phone began to ring. Khloë sighed. “I need to get that before Harper starts barking at me.”

“Khloë, you need to get that!” Harper yelled from the shop floor.

The imp rolled her eyes. “Too late. Come on, let’s go.”

Raini followed her out of the office, closing the door behind them.

“Khloë, phone!” Harper again shouted.

Crossing the shop floor, the imp raised placatory hands. “Untwist your panties, sphinxy.”

Harper frowned, pausing in tattooing a woman’s foot. “Sphinxy?”

“It’s a word,” said Khloë. “Aunt Mildred used to—”

“Oh no,” Devon cut in, turning from her client to the imp. “Do not mention that fictional woman in my presence.”

Reaching the desk, Khloë shook her head. “I can’t believe you don’t remember her.” She lifted the phone and answered the call with her receptionist voice.

Needing to grab some supplies to get her station ready before her next client arrived, Raini headed into the stock room at the rear of the studio. She made a beeline for the shelf that—

Hands clamped around her arms from behind, her surroundings flashed white, and then she was dumped on the ground. A cold, hard, damp ground. Before she could even think to react, hot pain blazed along her upper arm.

Hissing, she twisted, a ball of hellfire in hand … but she was alone. Whoever had brought her here had swiftly left. Where was here? And why did it smell of must, mildew, decay, and dirt?

Her inner demon rose to full alertness, absolutely furious. The power within Raini slinked to her fingertips, ready to protect and defend.

Raini touched the throbbing spot on her arm. Her fingers came away with blood. The bastard who’d brought her here had sliced her arm, probably with a blade. Oh, she was gonna drop-kick a fucker.

She rubbed at the floor to wipe the blood from her fingers and glanced around. Taking in the gray stone walls, stacked crypts, plaques, urns, religious statues, and burned-out candles, she felt her stomach bottom out.

A mausoleum. She was in a fucking mausoleum.

One that wasn’t well tended to, given the spiderwebs, dead leaves, layers of dust, scabby mold, and the miserable look about the place. Why the hell would someone bring her here?

Struggling to her feet, she noticed that the stone walls were carved with … was that Latin wording? It was hard to tell. With only one window, the place was pretty damn dark.

The air was stale, clammy, and so bitterly cold she shivered. She could hear water dripping and scuttling sounds that had better not be rats. But there were no voices, no footsteps, no indication of people inside or outside.

Not feeling inclined to stick around, she reached out to touch Maddox’s mind. But failed. Like something was blocking the mental pathway. She tried reaching for Harper. Again, it didn’t work. The fuck? She tried contacting several other people— Jolene, Khloë, Devon, Ciaran. Not once did her psyche manage to touch that of another.

Her pulse began to speed up, and her demon became even more tense. Cursing beneath her breath, Raini made a beeline for the stone door a few feet away, shuddering when a stray spiderweb ghosted over her shoulder. Ew.

She shoved, pushed, and kicked the door. It didn’t open. Fuck.

She tossed a ball of hellfire at it, hoping the flames would consume the stone. They didn’t. They merely licked at the door before shimmering away. Some kind of power or magick acted as a barrier. Hurrying over to the small window, she saw that it was welded shut. She blasted the glass with hellfire, but the flames did nothing. Her breathing turned quick and shallow, and she swallowed hard.

Trapped. She was trapped.

A deep growl sounded, echoing in the large space, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She spun on her heel and tracked the sound. Her heart jumped as she saw a pair of red eyes watching her from the shadows. Understanding rapidly dawned on her. The preternatural measures in place weren’t there to keep her inside, they were meant for something else. And she’d just been dumped in here with it. Oh, shit.

*

“You only want to talk?” Maddox lifted a brow. “And that requires ten of you, does it?”

The angel’s mouth tightened. “We would like you to hear us out.”

“Would you now? Well, I’m only interested in talking with Castiel. Perhaps one of you can call him here.”

“We don’t know of any Castiel.”

Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, Maddox took another swig of bourbon. “Of course you don’t.”

“We are only here for our brothers. We want you to free them.”

Maddox frowned. “Brothers? Are you referring to the last halo-bearers that came for my lair? Or do you mean the ones who went after my anchor?”

“All of them. Set them free, and we will ensure that no other halo-bearers bother you or your lair.”

Maddox twisted his mouth. “Hmm, interesting proposition.”

“Will you agree to release them?”

Sighing, Maddox set both his phone and glass on the bar. “Let’s not play games. You know they’re dead. You’re not here to enquire about them. You’re here to launch an attack, and you’re stalling. The question is … why would you stall?”

The angel’s eyelids flickered. “You can’t possibly have killed all of them,” he insisted, apparently deciding to ignore Maddox’s assertion.

Uneasy, Maddox narrowed his eyes. “What is it you’re waiting for?”

“I’ve already told you why we’re here.”

“And you lied. You’re waiting for something.”

Several descendants teleported into the large space, ready to battle. Instead of tensing, the halo-bearers smiled. And then it happened. The sound of a large blast thundered through the air outside the club, like a bomb had detonated. The forms of the halo-bearers began to shimmer as they prepared to waver away, but then they all stilled with a frown.

“I’m guessing you just bombed the club with holy fire,” said Maddox. “I’m guessing you’re also now wondering why the building isn’t falling apart, and why it is you can’t seem to leave. The truth is … you walked right into a trap. And if I hadn’t killed your other ‘brothers,’ they would have told you that using holy fire would be pointless. So sad. But hey, I can lighten things up. A joke would work, right? You’ll like this one. Ten angels walk into a bar.” Maddox launched an arctic energy ball at the halo-bearer in front of him, striking the bastard right in the gut.

“I want at least one of them alive,” Maddox told his demons. Then pandemonium broke out. It was ugly. Chaotic. Turbulent.

People dodged, ducked, and weaved to evade the barrage of hellfire, holy fire, telekinetic force, and Maddox’s ice-cold energy. Some teleported or wavered from spot to spot, trying to get the drop on their enemies.

The glasses hanging above the bar smashed. Tables and chairs cracked or tipped over. A speaker collapsed to the floor, almost falling on an unsuspecting descendant.

It quickly became clear that the halo-bearers were no strangers to battle. They fought hard, shelved their pain, kept up the pressure. But they were fighting beings that had a real hatred for them; beings who wanted to avenge the many descendants that had recently been killed just because of an overly ambitious archangel.

Even as their flesh blistered from holy fire burns, Maddox’s demons relentlessly attacked the intruders. That relentlessness soon paid off. The angels gradually weakened under the assault, bleeding, burning, and bruised.

Nonetheless, two tag-teamed Maddox. Once they realized the holy fire had no effect on him, they changed tactics. Maddox soon became their fucking punch bag. Telekinetic strike after telekinetic strike assailed his body—a fist to the jaw, a kick to the kneecap, a blow to the temple, a punch to the throat.

Maddox retaliated hard, hurling beams of cold, crackling energy their way. But the duo had taken cover behind the bar, so it bore the brunt of his attack.

He hissed as telekinetic fists pounded his ribs, stealing his breath, sending pain rippling through his body. He was done with his shit. Maddox teleported behind the duo—a risky move, but it paid off, because they didn’t anticipate it. As such, they didn’t even feel the scatter shots of cold energy until it was too late and the power was ravaging their insides.

Leaving them to die, Maddox teleported back to his original spot. A halo-bearer materialized a few feet away, smirking. A hard, dazing impact slammed into Maddox’s psyche, making his vision go black for a second. Recovering fast from the blow, he telekinetically gripped the little fucker’s throat and raised him high in the air.

He’s the last one alive, so you might not want to choke him to death, Hector warned.

Inwardly cursing, Maddox dropped the angel on the floor and popped a containment forcefield around him.

An unfamiliar mind touched Maddox’s. Please tell me Raini’s with you, said Harper.

Tension filled his muscles, and his hackles rose. What’s wrong?

She was here, and now she’s just … not. We don’t know where she is, and she isn’t answering our telepathic calls.

Fuck.

Moving very slowly, Raini began to back up, not once looking away from that red gaze. Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised it didn’t hurt. Maddox! Harper! Jolene!

No one answered. How could they, when she couldn’t even touch their minds?

Another rumbly growl echoed in the air, almost making her flinch. She wasn’t defenseless. She could kill whatever it was. Nothing with a brain stood a chance against psychic hellfire. But there was no saying what powers it had; no knowing if it could disable her before she had a chance to—

It crept out of the shadows, and she came to a surprised halt. A person, she realized. It was a person. A man.

She squinted. She knew that face. She knew those eyes— she’d seen them glazed with lust as the succubae allure hit him hard in the parking lot outside the Damned … only there’d been no red glow to his irises then. He’d been utterly normal. Well, he wasn’t now.

His eyes weren’t glazed with lust now either. No, there was something else there. A madness. A predatory hunger. A bestial awareness, as if the man was buried beneath whatever had taken him over. Or maybe that man was gone altogether. No, surely if the guy couldn’t come back from this messed-up state, Maddox would have destroyed him.

“Stay back,” she warned, but the demon didn’t. He kept coming, stalking her, watching her like a cobra.

Shit, she did not want to kill one of her anchor’s demons. Especially when the guy didn’t seem to be in his right mind. Something was very wrong with him.

If she hit him with a low blast of psychic hellfire, it would be a shockwave of scorching heat as opposed to a blaze of fire. As such, it would knock him out, not kill him. Probably. She’d never tried it before. She’d only been trained to keep control of the power, not to wield it in different ways.

Not moving her eyes from him, she kept backing up. He kept moving forward.

Raini thought about tossing a ball of hellfire at him, but that might merely prompt him to attack. It seemed best to stay calm, to make no sudden movements, to do nothing that could be misconstrued as a challenge.

He paused, his nostrils flaring, and then squatted on the floor. He bent over sniffing, and then—ew—licked at the ground. No, at the blood staining it. Her blood. His eyes snapped back to her, almost whirling with madness.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Stay. Back.”

He lunged.