AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A low moan drifted between them, one filled with anticipation and darkness. They both whirled around. “Shit.” Rowan muttered. She took off running down the street.
Azaiel swore, several ancient words falling from his lips as he strode toward the drama now playing out. A young couple, out for a night of partying, was now surrounded by four sand demons. Their human eyes couldn’t quite see what hid amongst the shadows, but they sure as hell sensed the danger.
The young woman clung to her boyfriend or husband’s hand, tugging at her long blond hair nervously as they turned in a circle. They stumbled, obviously drunk, making it incredibly easy for the demons to lure them into a trap.
Rowan was almost upon them, and she yelled loudly, her voice echoing into the night wind. “Hey, assholes, why don’t you pick on someone who can actually fight back?” She’d withdrawn a sidearm—one of her charmed guns from what he could see—and aimed it at the sand demon closest to the couple. She quickly fired off several rounds, and the woman screamed loudly, backing away and dragging her husband straight into the two demons behind them.
Their mouths opened wide, and a strange melody drifted in the air. It was a hypnotic blend of notes designed to lull a potential victim into a state of paralysis.
The sand demon closest to Rowan—the one she’d shot at—howled in pain, his head morphing into a swirl of sand and mist. It was a quick repair, and seconds later the demon had grown several inches and stared down at Rowan, with beady, bloodred eyes.
She was furiously drawing a charm into the air—small luminescent designs appeared like whispers of smoke—but she wasn’t fast enough.
Azaiel shouted to gain its attention, as he armed himself with a couple of his own, extraextra specials. He spoke in an ancient tongue, one he knew the demon would understand.
“Leave now or die.”
The tallest demon—the one closest to Rowan—paused and turned his massive head toward Azaiel. It smiled, a blatant sign that it had no fear. It was all Azaiel needed. “Actually, we’re just going to go with . . . die. Open wide, you ugly son of a bitch.” He ran forward and shot one of his grenades down the bastard’s throat.
Rowan dove away and grabbed for the couple but only managed to get hold of the male. She rolled to the side, taking him down with her, and Azaiel scooped up the woman, as he tossed grenades at the remaining demons. He managed to get two of them, but the third whirled away, just out of reach.
The two he’d caught exploded, and force of it sent him flying though he used his body to shield the woman from the brunt of the blast. The air filled with the putrid scent of burned demon flesh, and he set the woman aside, shoving her into a doorway. “If you want to live, you will not move. Understand?”
She nodded, stunned and more than a little confused.
“Rowan!” His eyes searched the darkness—the blast had taken out the streetlights on both corners. With the swirling bits of demon remains and the massive surge of sand, he couldn’t see shit.
Azaiel scrubbed at his eyes, cursing madly—pissed at his lack of skills, at the powers that had been stripped from him. In another time and place he would have been able to kill these bastards sight unseen. He would have thought it, and it would have been done.
The demon’s song reverberated and crashed into his brain. He felt the pull. The strength and determination, and it chilled him. This one had some legs on it.
He charged toward where he thought Rowan might be and gritted his teeth as light filtered through the clouds of crap in the air. She was there, beams of light emanating from her hands as she shielded the man with her body. The sand demon rose above her, its mouth open wide, and the human male, so susceptible to the dark notes it sang, pushed forward, trying to move past Rowan.
“Rowan!” She turned, pushed the man to the ground, and he tossed the remaining grenade at her. She caught it, spun around and threw it up at the creature.
An incredible wailing noise erupted from within the beast, and Azaiel rushed forward, grabbed Rowan and pushed her backward as the demon exploded, blowing chunks of mist, sand, and guts all over the place.
He felt the sting of shrapnel slice into his body. And then there was silence. Only the whistle of wind in his ear.
She moved beneath him, and he rolled away, staring up at a clear night sky filled with twinkling diamonds. His back hurt like hell, but he knew it would pass. He’d been stripped of a lot of things, yes, but his ability to heal wasn’t one of them.
“Are you all right?” Rowan sat up and leaned over him, her fingers on his face. The velvet sky was gone, replaced with a vision of red hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that he longed to touch.
“I’m good.” His answer was curt. “Check on the humans.”
She stared down at him for several seconds, then moved away, leaving only the cool wind to ruffle his hair as he got to his feet. The carnage was impressive. Azaiel reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bag containing fluid and a lighter. He bent down, aware that Rowan was somehow charming the couple—hopefully removing any remnants of memory—and he set the pile of demon waste to flame.
It didn’t take long, maybe a few minutes at the most, and when it was done only he and Rowan stood on the darkened street.
“That was . . .” she began and stopped, her eyes not quite meeting his.
He reached over and plucked what looked to be bits of demon crap out of her hair. Her scent was heightened, it filled the air and his lungs, teasing his nostrils with her earthy, sexy perfume.
“That was pretty awesome,” she finished, this time looking up into his eyes and smiling wide. “You have to admit, we do make a good team.”
Watch yourself, Azaiel.
His gaze lingered on her lips. “Let’s go,” he said abruptly. He needed to move. To kill and maim. As long as he had that on his plate he couldn’t think about her. Couldn’t think about how she’d felt beneath him. Of how she’d tasted.
