Angel's Curse (22 page)

An angel came to assist Sariel, and I pushed him to the ground, closing my invisible hand around his throat. I pressed a knee into his back so he could not stand, or raise a hand to attack me. I could feel his blood flowing into me and was grateful that I couldn’t
taste
him with my hands. There were few things I found less appealing than the taste of angels’ blood, which strongly resembled Brussels sprouts.

Both the archangel and angel took their last breath at the same time. I quickly withdrew the dagger from Sariel’s back and sheathed it. I was filled with a euphoria that eclipsed any pain or sense of regret I might otherwise have felt.

I leaned down and pulled two feathers out of Sariel’s wings. I knew now why serial killers took keepsakes from their kill. Some small token to help them relive the moment — not that remembering was a problem for me. As I’d already learned, I could recall anything that had ever happened to me with absolute clarity. These feathers were a trophy.

I blinked and transported back to where Drake was waiting and shouting out commands. I handed him a feather. He glanced at it briefly before tucking it into one of his hiking boots.

“It’s good to know the dagger worked.” I smiled, elated. “Are you ready for our next stop?”

Drake nodded and I grabbed his arm, transporting us to another of the nests from the map.

“Raguel,” Drake said. “I know the stink of
that
angel anywhere.”

He didn’t seem to like Raguel very much and that was fine by me.

“They may try to rally some of the other armies,” Drake warned.

“If it comes to that tell your troops to withdraw,” I said, “but I plan to take out as many as I can.”

“I’ll pass the word along to retreat if other angelic armies descend,” Drake replied, waving me onwards. “You go and do what needs to be done.”

I touched his arm briefly, trailing my fingers down his forearm. It was a small gesture, but he turned to look at me, and as he did so I blinked out of existence. I didn’t want him to see the fire in my eyes. He shook his head and laughed, before running off among the vamps.

As with Sariel, Raguel stood above the others. His wings were partially open, almost as if in a warning to any who challenged him. It reminded me of the animal documentaries I’d watched with such fascination, that showed how males of many species puffed themselves up to look bigger, stronger and more importantly, fiercer.

I walked slowly and deliberately to where Raguel stood. This archangel, at least, stood on a rock. I walked around him twice, assessing him as he barked commands at his army. Closing both my fists I gave a short, sharp jab behind the knees, causing him to buckle and fall. Regaining his feet he looked around wildly, trying to determine what had happened. The dagger was already in my hand, and as I drove it through his heart I blinked my body back, so I would be the last thing he saw before he died. He clutched at my arms, though his hands did not produce what he had expected — a weapon with which to destroy me — and I laughed.

Before his body collapsed to the ground I removed the dagger and wiped it on his shirt before sheathing it. Two archangels to go, but only one dagger left. I knew who this dagger would be reserved for. I would kill Phanuel another way, if I could, and then it would be done. Those that had sought to kill me, and had succeeded in killing Danny, would be gone.

I ran to where Drake stood, talking to a couple of vampires, grabbed his wrist and we left, only to arrive at another nest in the blink of an eye.

“I would appreciate it if I could finish passing on my instructions before you whisk me away,” he said, but didn’t sound particularly angry. Indeed, I thought he enjoyed my take charge attitude.

I couldn’t see an archangel anywhere.

“This is the one I want, isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s his army, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Drake replied, and he scanned the angels looking for the same thing as me — Raphael.

“
Where is Raphael?
” I yelled. “This is
his
army, isn’t it?”

Someone yelled something I didn’t catch, so intent was I on scouring faces and looking for wings.

“He’s fled, the coward,” Drake yelled back. “Only Phanuel remains, to the east.”

Raphael’s angels continued to fight, and fall, at the hands of the vampires — not cast out of heaven as demons — truly dead and never to return.

I strode over to Drake and made the map appear on the ground in front of us. I still had one dagger left. I’d have to find another way to kill Raphael, if and when I found him, the skulking invertebrate.

“Show me where Phanuel is.”

Drake pointed to one of five areas we had yet to visit. I didn’t stop to think how he knew. I grabbed his arm and we were gone.

Phanuel stood among the last of his angels, angel fire flaring from one hand, angel ice from the other. I blinked out and ran between the angels — stealthy and silent, invisible to the night — ducking and dodging the rain of fire as they fought, fearing for their lives. I ignored all save Phanuel, for it was he whom I sought to kill this night. The vamps could have the others.

I walked around him, looking him up and down, before stopping behind him, shaking uncontrollably with rage.
How dare he condemn Danny and me!
I blinked back and unsheathed the last of the daggers, holding it high in my hand, giving in to the part of me that craved revenge. The blade whistled through the air, to land deeply in his back.

“Death has found you and it hungers for your soul,” I whispered.

Phanuel’s fire and ice flickered, then stopped. He dropped to his knees, a look of surprise on his face. I left the dagger in his back to do its work and unsheathed Death. I kissed the flat of the blade then used it to cut off his wings, less glorious than Danny’s. I crushed them between my hands until all the bones were broken and tossed them to the ground, in front of Phanuel. His face changed to a mask of horror. To be without his wings, even in death, was unthinkable. In one final act I pulled back his head and let Death remove it from his shoulders. The song was melancholy, as if the blade sensed this was not the archangel I wanted most, but that it would have to do.

I held Phanuel’s head high and screamed, “
Raphael, this was meant for you! I will hunt you down and kill you!
”

I dropped the head to the ground and kicked it as far away as I could, then retrieved the dagger from Phanuel’s back. I let go of my angelic scent and reverted to the vampire in me. It was time to set the vampire free.

Drake ran to my side, elated at our victory.

“Remarkable,” he said. “If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it.”

His fingers brushed my cheek, yet this time I didn’t shy away from his touch. I was frustrated and angered that Raphael had gotten away, and still had a lot of pent-up energy and rage to burn. I clasped Drake’s hand and transported us back to his chambers, bolting the door as I did so.

17.
The Lust

I let the last of the daggers drop to the floor. It made no sound as it hit the carpet.

Drake stood in front of me, our bodies almost touching. He unzipped the front of the catsuit to my waist, exposing the black lacy bra underneath. His cold hand slid around my waist and pulled me nearer. He kissed the top of each breast and I shook my arms as if to shake off the catsuit and it disappeared, leaving me in the black bra and a G-string.

Drake’s hands tore at the delicate fabric of the G-string and his teeth bit through the bra, nicking my skin in the process. His tongue licked the small cut until it healed and, in the desperation my blood had fuelled in him, he pushed me to the floor, ripping off the remaining shreds of the bra and kissing me on the lips. I just
knew
we weren’t destined to make it to the bed.

I ripped his t-shirt away and let my fingertips explore his muscles, in my own primal response to his needs and desires, eliciting a shiver from him.

“I can’t believe how warm-blooded — how
hot
— you are,” he murmured, nibbling my ear.

I couldn’t reach the front of his jeans. There was no room for me to squeeze my hands between us, yet they were no obstacle to me and in a moment his remaining clothing was gone.

At some point Drake regained control of himself — he was a wild and passionate lover, very unrestrained — and grabbed my wrist. He looked into my eyes as he lowered his mouth to touch my wrist and bit down. I gasped and he moaned, all the while his eyes locked onto mine.

He offered his wrist to me and I took it, drinking greedily, his blood even sweeter than that of the first vampire I’d taken since the specialists had attacked me. It was what I imagined ambrosia would have tasted like to the Roman and Greek Gods.

Drake’s eyes widened and he lifted his lips from my wrist, licking the blood that continued to flow. It made me shiver all the more.

“Slow down,” he murmured.

I shook my head. I couldn’t stop it now. I
needed
it. It took all of my willpower and concentration to break free.

“Drink faster,” I gasped and clasped his wrist to my mouth again.

He lifted my wrist to his lips and smiled, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Here I was, someone who could surpass even him. Someone with the same base appetites. His mouth covered my wrist and I felt his teeth pierce the skin as he bit down and drank eagerly. He held my gaze all the while, and I felt something pass between us, subconsciously.

He was right. I did have more control over my body than I’d thought. I wasn’t going to kill him.

Time meant nothing and for all I knew days had passed since we’d entered Drake’s chambers. The only thing that mattered was this drive — a frenzied sexual energy — that wouldn’t stop. I felt like it would never be completely satiated, though it was, time and time again. Each ending saw a new beginning — an insistent, pulsing throb in my loins that could not be ignored for long.

Drake matched my stamina and newly-acquired lust for blood. I wondered how long he could go without feeding, how much longer I could go. It was as if by drinking from each other we were bypassing the need to feed from another source, which wasn’t a bad thing as far as I was concerned. If all vampires could learn to do this they wouldn’t need to feed on mortals at all.

Drake was lying on his back and I sat astride his hips. When we were ready to share our blood he sat up and I wrapped my legs around him. The initial coldness made my muscles contract, heightening our pleasure even further.

It took quite some time to adjust to the coldness of Drake’s body against mine. It wasn’t like it had been with Danny at all. The room was not bathed in soft coloured light, we didn’t share our love and emotions through touch — sharing a bond — and we certainly didn’t levitate, but it was pleasurable nonetheless in a raw and primitive way. Part of me still missed the heat of the passion Danny and I had shared — the act and release. Drake made an acceptable substitute, providing a different kind of intensity, but it would never be love, only lust.

When I actually took the time to look closely at his body, and explore it thoroughly, I found he had numerous scars that he told me were souvenirs of various battles over thousands of years — each one a reminder of how lucky he’d been to make it out alive. The scars excited me even more — the thought of the violence they represented. He
knew
why my tongue licked each and every scar. He knew me better than I did.

“You’re a creature of habit, Helena,” he sighed, the hint of a moan of pleasure behind his words. “You always return to what you know — sex and violence.”

I licked a scar on his chest, close to his nipple. “I suppose Shae told you that.”

He put his hands behind his head, enjoying the moment. “No, it’s written in your body language.”

I smacked his chest with the flat of my palm, leaving a red mark.

“Huh! Figures! A vampire who’s into the
art
of interpreting body language. It’s not entirely true, though — I’ve known love.”

He grabbed my upper arms and rolled me onto my back in an act of dominance. “But when love is gone sex and violence always remain.”

“Aren’t vampires capable of love?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly, “though it
never
ends well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it,” Drake said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Forget I ever mentioned it.”

He let go of my arms and rolled off the bed, landing on his feet. My curiosity may have been piqued, but I had a feeling that by pushing the matter I would drive him away. I needed what he could offer me, to help fill the void. I doubted any other vampire here would be able to match him.

“I have something I’d like to show you,” he said, all trace of any bitterness gone.

He walked over to the Renoir that covered his safe, removed it and rested it gently on the floor, leaning against the wall. He opened the safe, rifled through some papers, tucking a few under his arm, closed the safe and returned to the bed. He sat on the edge and I crawled over to where he was, lying on my stomach, my chin on my hands.