But Tanner always looked at Marna like he could eat her alive.
It was nice.
Hot.
They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, then entered a room on the right. Tinted windows let them look down onto the dance floor, but Sammael assured them, “No one out there can see or hear anything that goes on in here.”
Good, and a little scary.
“I was wondering when you’d be coming by.” Sammael lowered his body onto a leather couch. Seline perched on the arm rest near him. “Especially since it looks like I’ll be having to kill your brother.”
Tanner lunged toward him, but Marna grabbed his arm as she fought to pull him back.
Sammael smiled.
“You
won’t,
” Tanner growled.
“If he keeps selling angel blood, I will.” One dark brow rose. “Do you know how many vamps I’ve killed in the last few weeks, all because those fools thought that they’d get a taste of my blood?” Then his eyes hardened. His hand came up, and his fingers curved around Seline’s leg. “Or hers?” Real rage burned in his eyes, and Marna realized she and Tanner were very lucky Sammael hadn’t already attacked.
Nothing could stop him when he went on a rampage. She’d seen his handiwork before. Had to clean up the bodies and collect the souls that had been left behind.
“He’s not selling any more blood.” Tanner’s hands had fisted. Were his claws coming out? The last thing she wanted was for him to battle Sammael.
“He’d better not.” A deadly promise. “I owe you and Cody because you helped Az.”
Just the mention of Az’s name stirred so many memories for Marna. She’d once been tasked with taking the soul of Az’s human mate. Like Sammael, he hadn’t been willing to give up the woman he loved. And when he’d refused . . .
That was when Marna had been attacked.
“Az and I both owe you,” Sammael said, only he was looking at her now.
Marna’s chin rose. “Cody won’t sell the blood again. And you’re right, you do owe us.” Her shoulders were straight, her muscles tense. She wouldn’t show him any more fear. “So I want you to pay that debt.”
“How?”
Seline watched in silence.
Marna hesitated. Tanner’s body was still locked in battle-ready mode. “I want you to teach me to kill.” She lifted her hands and held them, palms out, toward Sammael. “With a touch.”
A faint line appeared between his brows, but it was Seline who asked, “You mean you can’t?”
Marna shook her head.
“Power comes back in different ways, for different angels.” Sammael didn’t seem particularly concerned. Since it wasn’t his life, why would he be? “Give it time,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve only been walking the earth a few months. You’ll get stronger—”
“Time is what I don’t have.” She pulled in a ragged breath. “If I’m going to keep living, then I need to know how to kill.”
Waves of tension seemed to roll off Tanner.
“Can you stir the fire?” Seline asked.
Marna nodded. “But fire isn’t much good against a demon.”
“And that’s what we’re facing,” Tanner said as he stood with his legs braced apart. “The vamps want her blood, yeah, we know that, but there’s a demon out there, pulling puppet strings and stealing faces.”
Seline blinked her perfect eyes. “Stealing what?”
“He changed himself,” Marna said, and her gaze darted to the window. To the mass of bodies below. Was anyone ever truly who you thought? “He took my body, my face, and he killed two shifters.”
“Interesting.” From Sammael.
“It’s not
interesting,
” Tanner fired back. “It’s dangerous.”
The right side of Sammael’s mouth kicked up into a half-smile. “Let me guess . . . he took your form, too?”
“And nearly killed a cop. This SOB is gunning for us, and we
will
take him out.” Tanner’s vow.
But Marna said, “Fire won’t stop him. That means
I
can’t stop him.” She didn’t have Tanner’s certainty that they were gonna win the day.
“Hmmm.” Sammael’s fingers stroked Seline’s leg in an absent caress. “But your shifter’s claws should do the trick. Unless, of course, he’s too squeamish to kill his own brother.”
“Like you were too squeamish to kill yours?” Tanner fired back.
The air in the room got very, very thick.
Sammael’s fingers stopped their stroking. “You should be careful, shifter.”
“No, you should be.” Tanner lifted up his claws. “I know how to kill you, too.”
Had anyone else ever stood up to Sammael before? Marna didn’t think so. If they had, those folks hadn’t exactly lived to tell the story.
Sammael threw back his head and laughed. Wait, laughed?
Tanner wasn’t laughing with him.
“I like you, shifter,” Sammael said once he’d gained control of himself. It looked like Seline might have pinched him. “You’re not afraid to piss off Death.”
No, he wasn’t.
Marna cleared her throat. “Can we get back to the Touch?” Or did they just want to fill the room with more supernatural testosterone? From where she stood, there was already plenty of that in the place. Enough to choke her and Seline.
Sammael gave a slow nod. “So you want to be able to kill demons.”
“But what if a demon isn’t the one . . . ah . . .” Seline cleared her throat and finished, “. . . stealing faces?”
“Demons can work glamour like no one else,” Tanner said. “It has to be one of them. No one else can—”
But Sammael had turned to glance first at Seline, then at Marna. His brows lowered as he studied her. “Why haven’t you told him?”
She stared back at him, lost. There was nothing to tell.
“Marna . . .” Sammael sighed her name as if she were a naughty child. To one as ancient as he, maybe she was. “You and I both know that demons aren’t the only ones who can change their forms.” Then his gaze turned back to Tanner. “Surely you’ve heard the legends about demons, about how they first came to be.”
Tanner’s back was to the tinted glass and the throng of dancers. “They were descended from the Fallen.”
“Um . . . yes, and so where do you think that handy glamour magic first came from, huh?” He waited a beat, then said, “Angels. They’re the ones who mastered glamour long before any demons walked the earth. Angels can steal faces, too.”
Cody hurried down the darkened street. His neck had healed, but his gut twisted with every step he took. Another demon in New Orleans who could steal faces? How the hell had he missed that?
He’d always thought he was alone. A freak, even among demons. Others of his kind could stir powerful magic. Control the minds of humans. Not him.
His father had once said that he was a curse. Unable to shift into the powerful form of a panther, what good had he been? His father had laughed and mocked him for only being able to shift his physical appearance so that he looked like humans.
“Fucking useless. Should have killed you the first day I realized the panther didn’t live inside of you.”
His father’s words rang in his ears.
And the bastard
had
tried to kill him. He would have succeeded, if Tanner hadn’t been there. Jumping in, taking those blows and the slices from their father’s claws.
Tanner had saved him more times than Cody could count. And Cody would not fail him now.
He could do this. He could find the other freak and—
A footstep shuffled lightly behind him. Cody spun around. He didn’t have senses as strong as a regular shifter.
Another fucking failure
. He’d been caught unaware too many times before.
But no one was there.
His gaze swept the alley. Left to right. In the distance, he could hear the sound of laughter. Catcalls. Drunken voices. He wasn’t headed to Bourbon Street. The crowd he looked for would be hiding in the deeper parts of the city. The darker parts that humans always stayed away from, as if sensing the danger.
Some animal instincts existed even within pureblood humans. Smart humans didn’t ignore those instincts.
He turned around, hunched his shoulders, and picked up his pace. He’d search as many demon bars as he could. Money talked in this town, and thanks to that angel blood, he had plenty of cash.
If there was another freak out there, he’d find him.
Cody rounded the corner. He had to cross through another dark, tight stretch of alley space. Then he’d be at the first bar. Maybe he’d get lucky, maybe—
The whisper of a footstep behind him had Cody tensing. He whirled around.
Not alone this time.
A figure stepped from the shadows. A figure with hulking shoulders. Matted, dark hair, and a face that still chased Cody in his nightmares.
“Hello, son,” his father said, as he raised a claw-tipped hand. “It’s been too long.”
Tanner stared at Sammael, body tensed. The Fallen looked too confident. Far too cocky. He’d never trusted this guy—because Tanner wasn’t an idiot.
And now Sammael—Sam—was smiling at Marna.
“Her blue eyes are so pretty, aren’t they? It would seem that most angels have blue eyes.” Sam tapped his chin. “That’s a lie of course.”
“Angels can’t lie—” Marna began.
But Sam just laughed. “When the emotions get strong enough, when you lose that last thread of control inside yourself, the glamour that’s been in place since the moment you were created will falter. Your shifter . . .” Sam waved toward Tanner. “He’ll look into your eyes and see the darkness that all angels try so hard to hide.”
But Tanner wasn’t looking into Marna’s eyes. He was staring at Sam, and as he stared, Sam’s eyes began to darken. Dark.
Darker.
Until . . .
They were as black as a demon’s eyes.
“The apple really doesn’t fall so far from the poisoned tree,” Sam murmured.
Seline frowned at him. “Sam, we’ve been over this. You aren’t evil.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Right. I’m just not good, either.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “Most angels are like me, a mix of the two. So much power, bottled up inside, waiting to explode.”
The more Tanner learned about angels, the less he liked. Weren’t there already enough monsters in the world?
Monsters like me.
Couldn’t the angels have just been the good guys, for once? He had to kick vampire ass. Demon ass. Now angel ass? There were so many jerks to get in line to meet his claws.
“Different demons have different powers,” Tanner said, trying to puzzle this mess out. “My brother . . .”
Sam leaned forward. “Yes, let’s hear more about him. I’ve been so curious.” A dangerous edge had entered his voice. “Three brothers. One half angel. One half demon. And then there’s . . . you.”
Tanner straightened his shoulders. “You stay the hell away from my brother, understand?”
Sam didn’t appear intimidated. He would be—once Tanner had his claws at the guy’s neck.
It was Seline who delicately cleared her throat. “Ah, Marna, perhaps you should stop thinking so much about demons. They’re really not all bad, you know.”
Since she was half-demon, Tanner figured the lady was speaking from experience.
“Just as angels aren’t all good,” Marna said,
speaking from her experience
. “I know that . . . now.”
“Fast learner,” Sam acknowledged with a sly half-grin.
Marna shook her head. “No. If I was, I’d be able to kill by now.” Her hands had clenched into fists. “Instead, I’m helpless when demons attack.”
Sam rose slowly and stalked toward her. Tanner tensed, ready to go at him—
“Keep those claws away from me, panther.” Sam’s flat order. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“You damn well aren’t.”
Sam reached for Marna’s clenched hands. He lifted them. Held them cradled within his palms.
The panther began to growl.
“We don’t lose the power of the Death Touch when we fall. The power is still there. It comes back to each angel of death. It just comes back at different times.”
“And I’m supposed to do what?” Marna asked. “Wait? Hide?”
He shook his head. “
Fight.
It’s only when you pull forth the fury inside that you can ignite the Touch.” His fingers tightened around hers. “It’s simple, little angel. You just have to want to kill badly enough. When you want death more than you want life, that Touch will be there for you again.”
Marna looked . . . lost.
He dropped her hands. “You just have to want it badly enough.” He turned his back to her.
Marna grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around to face her. “I
do.
” Her cheeks flushed. “When Tanner was on the ground, when that bitch stabbed him in the heart, I wanted to kill more than I wanted my next breath.” Shame and fury darkened her words.
Tanner watched her in surprise. So much emotion, boiling from within her.
“I wanted to kill all those who were hunting us. I wanted to destroy them.” Her nails dug into Sam’s shoulder. “But I couldn’t. I can stir fire, but can’t do much else. And while I do nothing, those hunting me just keep killing, using
my face.
”
Silence.
Marna pulled in a deep breath and let her hand fall away from him. “Angels of death don’t . . . steal faces,” she said. Tanner noticed that her fingers were trembling. “Neither do guardian angels. Guardians watch over their charges. They help, they guide unnoticed. They don’t change into something—
someone—
else and kill.” Marna turned away from Sam. Now her fingers reached for Tanner. “Coming here was a mistake.” She pulled him toward the door. “Sammael doesn’t want to help. He just wants to blame all the angels who still do their jobs. The ones who didn’t go on a murdering rampage and
fall
like he did.”
He had to be staring at a ghost. Shock had held him immobile as he faced his worst nightmare, a nightmare that couldn’t be there.