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Which made his fall all the more ridiculous.
“Azaiel?”
Mist parted along the sidewalk, and his eyes narrowed as three tall forms slid into view. They held weapons in both hands and blew fire out of their nostrils. The streetlight above them sizzled and went out as they passed by. Farther down the street, totally unaware, was a group of teenagers, huddled together underneath a storefront awning, smoking and fooling around.
It looked like an intense situation was about to unfold. One that required his aid. One that required the present conversation to end. Excellent.
“We need to go,” he muttered.
Rowan followed his eyes. “Shit.” She reached for her com and immediately called for backup. They rose quietly and slipped out of the coffee shop—two lethal hunters. As they entered the street, Rowan glanced up at him, her hands loose and ready to fire energy bolts. The air surrounding her was charged, and in that moment she looked magnificent.
“Just so you know?”
He cocked his head, his thoughts grim and
chaotic.
“Our conversation isn’t over. You never answered my last question.”
She took off running, and something inside him twisted as she threw her hands up and shot an energy blast straight at the trio of demons. One of them caught sight of her and threw a large machete in her direction. Rowan ducked and rolled to the side, a gazelle on feet as light as clouds.
The woman was crazy. She was unpredictable and fierce. She was loyal, brave, and happened to have the most delectable ass ever.
Azaiel strode toward the melee, his thoughts dark. He knew how uncertain her future was. He knew what his oath to the League meant.
If it came to Rowan’s life—if she failed to defeat the demon Mallick—would he be strong enough to follow through with his mission?
He scooped up the machete and attacked with a savagery he’d not felt before. There in the darkness beyond the lamppost, Azaiel slaughtered the enemy and showed no mercy. It was the way of it. It was how it had to be.
And when he was done, sorrow bled through his veins because he knew that in less than a week, she might be on the receiving end of his sword because he would not fail Askelon. He would carry through with his mission.
He glanced back at Rowan, and she lowered her eyes, but he caught sight of the wariness that colored them.
And it made him ill. She should be wary. She should be scared out of her mind. He swallowed thickly and moved into the shadows, welcoming the cool, dark caress of it.
He would do whatever he could to keep her alive, but as the heaviness of the night pressed on him and he felt the magnitude of Mallick’s power he knew it might not be enough.
It left him empty, angry, and bleak. If he’d not fallen, he might have been a worthy champion. As it was, he just prayed they’d both be strong enough.
Chapter 28
“You all right?”
Rowan glanced up at Hannah and shrugged, moving to the side and allowing her cousin room to sit on the blanket. She had found a patch of grass away from everyone, not far from the oak tree in the front yard.
It was, however, the day before Samhain, and she was far from “all right.”
The sword of Gideon had still not shown though Priest had assured her not to worry. Pretty damn hard to do that when Salem was knee deep in demon shit, and the tension amongst her family and friends was so thick, it was choking. They all knew what was coming and were helpless to stop it. Fights had broken out—nothing serious, but still . . . morale was low.
Most of the dissension involved the volatile twins, Terre and Vicki. Rowan sighed and shook her head. Everyone needed to chill. Or find something to take their minds off the crap spot they found themselves in.
Her mother had attempted to talk to her several times, but Rowan hadn’t been up for it. Not yet anyway. Though something had changed. Rowan wasn’t quite sure what it was, she knew that the anger and pain she’d carried for so long was starting to dissipate. Was it the fact that her end might be so near? Was she weak to forgive a mother who’d treated her children so callously? Or was it simply human to forgive.
“I’m great,” she answered, smiling at the snort that fell from Hannah’s lips.
“You’re so not great.” Hannah bumped her shoulder and sprawled beside her. It was early afternoon, and the sun was unseasonably warm. Indian summer was lingering in this part of the world, giving way to a few nights of rain and cold, and not much else.
Though the trees had lost the majority of their leaves, the colors of fall were still in abundance, as were the horrid Halloween decorations.
