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“Seventh.”
I wasn’t surprised. The seventh order was the lowest on the angel totem pole. Most likely to be seen on Earth and also the least powerful. Even a human could kill a seventh-order angel under the right circumstances.
“Sad,” I said. “What does this have to do with me?”
“She was killed by a lord of Hell while on an assignment.”
I let a single eyebrow rise up my forehead. “You want me to go after him before he brings Hell to Earth,” I guessed.
“No. He’s dead too.” Micah knocked back his drink. “A human girl killed him with an iron stake.”
I couldn’t hide my shock. I stared at Micah, torn between thinking I’d heard him wrong and thinking he was losing it. “You’re telling me a girl with no angelic power killed a lord of Hell?”
“Not just any lord of Hell,” he muttered.
“So… good for her? What job is there left for me if the demon’s dead?”
He raked a hand through his black hair. Micah looked like he was in his late twenties, but I was pretty sure he was at least centuries old, maybe even millennia. I wondered if he was sick of running the secret order yet, if he wanted to retire. “Other demons will come for her, either seeking revenge or to silence her.”
The pieces were starting to fall into place, and I didn’t like the picture they were creating. “Micah?”
“I’m making you her guardian. It will be your job to keep her safe from any and all demonic threats.” He opened a drawer of his desk and tossed a packet onto the wooden surface between us. A contract.
I didn’t look at the papers. I couldn’t move a muscle or I was going to do something utterly stupid. “You’re giving me guardianship of ahuman?” I needed to punch something. Preferably Micah’s face.
He tipped his head to indicate the pile of pages between us. “It’s all spelled out for you.”
My hand tightened around the glass I still held, hard enough to crack the crystal. “I’m a warrior, Micah, not a fucking babysitter.”
“I don’t really care who or what you are.” His indigo eyes stared back at me coolly. I wasn’t getting a rise out of him, not even if I left shards of glass all over the floor of his study. “You took a blood oath, and you can’t go back on that.”
Not like I’d had a choice when I’d joined the secret order. It was the only somewhat bearable option I’d been given. No one cared if it was what I actuallywanted.
“Why me?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Because you are my best option. This was a decision made based on logic and chances for success. It’s not personal, and it’s not up for debate.” His words were cold and unaffected. They were the shackles that closed around my wrists, chaining me to the duty I couldn’t deny.
Micah wasn’t making a request. He was making a demand.
And the best part? Even if I hadn’t taken an oath and joined the secret order, I’d still be powerless to refuse him. Micah was an archangel of the third order, a high prince. He had the power to strip me of my halo, to punish me without lifting a finger. He even had the ability to control my body and will.
Micah nudged the papers, thecontract, in my direction. “I’ll meet you at the elevators in an hour.” He dropped his gaze to the pile of messages that was always waiting for him. “Now get out of my office.”
I resisted the urge to throw my cracked and still half-full glass at Micah’s head. It wouldn’t get me out of this nightmare.
No matter what I did or said, I was going to be leaving for Earth in an hour. The only question left was whether I’d be going on my feet with my proverbial halo intact orfallingto Earth with no way to return home.
I placed the glass on Micah’s desk with lethal calm and picked up the packet on my new job.
The walk from the study to my rooms was a blur. I was more focused on keeping my anger from exploding in a way that would get my ass thrown out of Heaven for good than anything else at the moment.
I still had a choice, I reminded myself. I didn’t have to give in. I could be stubborn and force Micah to throw me out of the manor. It wasn’t a good choice, but it was still a choice I got to make.
Once I was in my bedroom with the door closed behind me, I glanced down at the contract. The image of a girl with a mass of long wine-red waves and a million freckles covering her face smiled up at me. She really was a girl. She barely looked legal. My gaze moved to the words beside her picture. Sierra Meyers. Age twenty-one. Fucking hell.
I tossed the packet onto the nearest surface before I destroyed it in frustration. I really was playing babysitter to a child.
I shoved both my hands into my hair. I was being a judgy asshole and I knew it. By angel standards, I was a baby too. But that didn’t make Sierra Meyers any less young or her existence any less of an annoyance.
