Accursed Archangels Series Omnibus Books 1-3

Chapter One

Thalia Brennan dodged another street vendor, nearly sending them flying into a group of tourists skittering out of her way. It was a bad time to be chasing someone through the main streets of New York. It was smack in the middle of the dinner rush, with people everywhere, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the turmoil of the hidden world within their midst. Even the weather couldn’t keep everyone inside despite its turbulent moods of extreme heat, humidity, and the occasional cold burst of spring rain. The streets were slick from the recent sprinkle, though for the moment, it had paused.

Move! she yelled, shoving another bystander watching the chase with his jaw hanging open. The idiocy of people was unbelievable. Moments later it’d all be forgotten, a brief aside everyone would just shrug their shoulders about. Not much more. Though Thalia liked being an afterthought in strangers’ minds, she wished one would put a leg out to trip her target and give a girl a hand.

The man she was chasing turned the corner into an alleyway between buildings. Thalia almost slipped on the slick concrete as she shifted to follow him. The guy was fast, she had to admit. Of course, anyone could turn into the Flash if running for their lives, which he was doing. She was out for blood, and he was next on her list.

Heading around another corner, deeper into the back alleys of several apartment buildings, she yanked out her club and aimed for the man’s ankles before arcing it back and sending the wooden baton sailing. Her aim would be true; it always was. A second later, the man’s yells echoed across the brick walls, followed by a thud as his body violently rolled across the asphalt.

He didn’t stay down. Of course he wouldn’t. It couldn’t be easy, could it? Thalia groaned as she reached for the second baton. She slammed it down onto the guy’s forearms as he held them up, easily deflecting her hits without too much effort. If he was so adept at fighting, why was he running from her?

That’s right, he was on her kill list. Running was better than sitting still if someone was out for your blood and soul.

You’re not going to win, Thalia snarled, shoving at the man before reaching for a short blade hooked in a sheath on her belt. Fighting only makes it worse, Ariuk.

I understand, he answered. Not the response she’d expected, but he continued to block each of her swings even though his forearms were surely bruised and broken by now.

The hell? Just die already!

If only it were that easy, Ariuk said. His dark eyes flashed between normal brown irises and complete black orbs.

What? She shook off her confusion. The guy was a horrible conversationalist, but she wasn’t here to chitchat. He would be the next to surrender his horrid and vile soul to her cause. She didn’t care who the hell he was or how much he wanted to live. She only cared to add his soul to her cache.

Tired of the game, she stepped back and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him toppling backward. Swinging forward a split second later, she caught her blade on flesh and bone, inciting a scream from the stranger’s swollen and cut lips.

Please!

Here came the begging. She rolled her eyes and bent over the guy as he attempted to scramble back. Dark black blood squirt from the stump of his right hand, which she’d severed during his fall. He grasped at it, his fingers pressing against the mess to no avail. She jumped over him, one foot on each side of his torso before she bent down, slamming her weight against him. He groaned, his breath squeezing out from the impact in one abrupt hiss.

By leaning forward, Thalia had no problem digging her knee into the man’s chest until he grunted and gurgled on the blood blossoming from his mouth. She watched a bead of sweat slip down his brow, a faint metallic scent hanging in the air from their struggle. This part always drove a rush of sweet, mood-enhancing adrenaline through her veins, pushing the euphoria of the fight deep into her core. It was a drug she craved, one that only came when she checked another soul off Ereziel’s kill list.

I’m going to kill you now, she whispered, her fingers curling hard around the dagger, its blade pressed at the man’s jugular. He yelped, his eyes wide at her words. Somehow, saying the words out loud made it more real. Death by her hand, a soul collector, and the most feared of her kind. Her victim? A man named Ariuk, who’d never begged for his life before. In Thalia’s clutches was the last place a demonic creature such as he would ever want to end up.

His body tensed as he gasped for air, fighting for each breath. They eyed each other, consuming one another as though either could make the other disappear with the sheer might of will.

Wait, he choked out as she continued to press the blade against the skin of his neck, ready to break the flesh. Damp with sweat and blood, her hand remained steady as her body expertly pinned him down. He’d be unable to buck her off if he tried.

But this man, Ariuk, the scummiest of demons made no move to escape. He didn’t even plead for his pathetic, twisted life. He was one of the unforgiven, a damned nightwalker who roamed the streets free of the confines of Hell. Like Thalia, he was immortal and would not die from old age. But he could be killed. She could not.

He cleared his throat as best he could. "I have something of yours, ma petite mort," he whispered, the words heavily accented in French creole. His sharp, white eyes no longer held any glamour to colorize them. Dark, rancid blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, increasing with every breath. His pallor told her the oxygen was leaving his earthly vessel, a dead body he’d acquired with his powers. It was not invulnerable. He could possess another corpse if one was nearby, but there were none, so she let up just a smidgen to allow him to talk.

I meant to return it to you sooner, but I knew, eventually, you’d come looking for me. His one free hand shifted, struggling to reach into his left breast pocket. The stump of his arm bled profusely, stinking of death rot. She carefully watched him fumble then reach into the right pocket of his slacks once he realized there was nothing in his jacket. The pants, once crisply white, were now dirtied with blood and asphalt from their scuffle. She was no worse for wear and wondered why he’d let her take him down so easily. What could he possibly have that belonged to her? They had never met before this day.

Hurry up, she snapped. I don’t have all eternity to kill you.

She refocused on her mission. She couldn’t forget that this nightwalker was marked for death, and she’d been assigned to take him out. Every wicked soul she collected was currency to buy a ticket back to Heaven. Without knowing how many souls it would take to garner entrance into Purgatory, from which she could make way through the gates to Heaven, she killed them without remorse. Forbidden to enter Heaven, all immortals, like her, were banished. Unlike the others, though, Thalia had once been mortal. When she had stood in Purgatory before the gates of Heaven with her deceased parents alongside her, she’d been tossed out as her parents had been graciously accepted.

That had been a long time ago, and her memories of that moment had faded to flashes, feelings of confusion and rejection as she was cast back through Purgatory and back to Earth.

Hundreds of years before, and without warning, Heaven had shut its gates to all immortals, stranding those still outside—even angels and archangels. The only way back was through Purgatory, but only humans who lived and died on Earth could get in.

You’ll thank me for this later, I guarantee it, the living corpse said, bringing her back to the present. His one good hand struggled to tug at a chain stuck in his pocket. You’re trapped without a way back. I can help you, you know. This locket—it’s your ticket in.

She pressed her knee harder against his chest, cutting off his voice. Lies. I detest liars.

The stranger squeaked before holding out a locket. It dangled on a tarnished silver chain tangled around his knuckles. His hands were unnaturally smooth, unused to hard labor. That didn’t change the fact that he resided in a corpse. Thalia eyed the glimmering talisman, feeling oddly drawn to it.

That’s not mine. You’re just trying to stall. I’m still going to kill you, and it’s useless to attempt to save yourself. You’re going to die tonight.

She shifted on his chest, causing him to hiss out a breath. He struggled in this position, but there was never any panic or pain in those dark eyes. Apprehension, regret, fear… none of those things existed in this creature. It was as though he knew this day would come and was just playing a role, as he’d done many times before. It made Thalia’s blood run icy beneath her skin, causing her to shiver. His blood was already slicked across her arms, but now it felt like crystals were forming on the drying fluid, even though it was late spring, edging towards summer, and the air was warm.

Who was this man Ereziel had sent her to kill? He was different from the others. Though he fit the definition of a demonic figure, he wasn’t a run-of-the-mill immortal craving violence, blood, and terror. This one was resolute. He knew his end had come and had embraced it calmly. Even when she’d surprised him, it’d been mainly her brute force tossing him about, without much rebuttal from him. He’d put up slight resistance, yes, but when he’d realized who his attacker was, he’d refused to fight and had barely touched her. It was odd to not have to chase prey across the city. She lived for the hunt. Craved it. And she always got her man. Always.

Trust me, the locket is yours. I’ve had it for years. It’s just the type of talisman which belongs to the wraiths of the Skein Realm. A place so different from Heaven or Hell would bear unusual magic like this. You also are not of this world.

Thalia scowled.

He lifted an eyebrow. Oh, you didn’t know?

Enough with the stories.

"But you must know—you don’t belong here. This is the key to where you’re from. Take it, it’s yours. But once you do, you’ll have no claim on my soul. That is the price for your token, ma petit mort."

She hated that nickname. He would die just for repeating it.

He held out the locket, his fingers shaking from blood loss. His body was dying a second, permanent death.

Thalia scoffed. He was a pretentious fool. What good would killing him do if his soul was uncollectable? But he had to be lying. She needed currency to enter Purgatory, and his soul was part of the payment.

Keep your infernal locket. It serves me no purpose. You’re the currency I seek.

Struggling to come up with more words to stall and delay his final moment, Ariuk gasped as she pressed more of her weight against him, crushing his chest. Her paltry hundred and twenty pounds must’ve felt like a thousand to him by now. It was too late; there was nothing he could say that would spare his pathetic life, and she was done talking. She jerked the blade across his neck, a line of darkness blossoming where blood seeped from the wound. She took great satisfaction in killing an unvirtuous creature.

The vile man’s body writhed beneath hers. As he fell still, she reached down and plucked the locket from his fingers. It sent an odd sensation of déjà vu through her, causing another shiver to run along her spine. Had she seen it before in a dream? The truth about her origins was buried in a life she couldn’t remember, and she wondered if this locket had been part of it. She should’ve let him live a bit longer. Maybe he had more information. All she had now was a pathetic trinket, one that couldn’t possibly be hers. Why would he hold it for her? Why give it back?

Thalia clutched the locket, curling her fingers over it until the nails dug into her palm. Already, she could feel the pain riding up her arm. Was it true that his soul was not hers since she’d claimed the locket? Would she not be able to use it as payment when she entered Purgatory? That alone was her goal. This vile man had somehow known a large piece of her history, but she’d prematurely cut off his life force.

How timely. She groaned and stood up. Ariuk was dead, but she still had to take care of the body. Her heart settled into a slower rhythm. The pleasure of the hunt and kill had taken over far too much for her logical side to consider keeping him alive for questioning. Ereziel had sent her to kill Ariuk, but she wondered if he was aware this man had known something about her past. Now she would never know.

Collecting an evil soul was the purpose of her work, but the kill was more than thrilling. She always told herself it was a necessary deed, an essential service required of her. Besides, it was the archangel Ereziel who’d ordered the kill. He was corrupt beneath his angelic form, yes, but still dignified in certain ways.

After burying the corpse in an unmarked grave in the old Moore-Jackson Cemetery, a forgotten, dilapidated place, she stalked away, cursing under her breath as she headed to one of her favorite bar haunts. She sneaked in through the back by picking the lock then washed up in the poorly maintained, dark restroom, where no one would notice the grime and blood staining her skin and clothes.

Scrubbed clean, she emerged and slid onto a barstool near the corner of the bar where the red indoor lights hid the residual dirt on her dark clothing. A drink was in order. Though she hated the taste of alcohol, she craved the numbness that came with it. She needed to blur away her thoughts. She knew she could never outrun them, and they’d eventually catch up to her. But not right now. Not tonight.

Chapter Two

Thalia startled on her bed, dizzy. Her stomach lurched as she opened her eyes and was blinded by the sunlight coming in through the window. She barely remembered getting home the night before. It was all a blur after she had killed Ariuk. A memory resurfaced about heading out to seek Ereziel to ask him if he knew anything more about why the man would be connected to her past, but she had turned back to the bar after a few blocks. She had drunken away her sorrows at the local watering hole until the night turned hazy and she’d blacked out.

Recalling several men approaching her for a good time, she sat up, regretting it immediately and grasping at her temples. Realizing she was in her apartment alone, she relaxed back into her pillow, relieved she had refused their advances. The last thing she needed was to find herself in some stranger’s digs without remembering his name. She’d had enough of those to last several lifetimes.

It wasn’t that she was in the mood to get her heart broken again, it was just that certain things wore her out more than others. One of them was trying to maintain a relationship when her life was full of secrets. Her immortality was a hindrance. No one wanted to watch their lovers grow old without them. She had a rule: never stay after the first night and always leave first. It kept everyone at arm’s length, but she liked it that way.

After showering and getting dressed, she headed back out to pick up some supplies. Her apartment was bare of the things needed for a hangover. Her head pounded, and her stomach rolled as well. She must have mixed too many drinks last night. Too much liquor and too much cheap beer made for a lasting morning after. She wasn’t much of a drinker; she only did it after a kill. It was a way of coping, to keep her sanity when there was so little of it left.

There was a diner around the corner from her building, and she shoved open the heavy glass door and made her way to a booth. Slipping onto the smooth, creaking bench, she settled her head between her hands as she stared at a menu to keep from looking at anything else. The room was spinning at an uncomfortable tilt.

Rough night?

Her eyes flipped up to find Adam, the usual waiter this time of morning. He smiled broadly, flashing his bright, bleached teeth at her. She yawned. She wasn’t in the mood to chit chat. She wasn’t the kind of customer to strike it up with anyone. Sometimes she made an exception with him, but this morning she really wasn’t in the mood. Even so, she had to keep up appearances. She liked the diner; it was convenient.

Yeah, it was a pretty rough night. Hitting the bar wasn’t such a great idea.

Adam chuckled as he placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of her. Her usual. Well, sometimes life gets you down and tramples the crap out of you, but you get back up. That’s what counts, right?

She nodded, smiling and managing to not roll her eyes. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was nice to look at as he walked away to let her peruse the menu. He wasn’t a very engaging conversationalist, but she had to admit, neither was she. And his smile always warmed her cold, dark, and irredeemable soul. It reminded her that humans could be quite comforting to be around. Even though she hadn’t been human for many years, she had to remember her life as a mortal. Emotions, love, and feeling safe and comforted were human traits and tended to dull with immortality. The only way to feel anything nowadays was to mingle with those who had no problem feeling everything.

After Adam returned to take her order, she brought her cell phone out from her pocket and checked the messages. There were none, unsurprisingly, and she didn’t expect to have any. Her phone never rang, nor did she ever call anyone. Without friends, family, or even old acquaintances, it stayed silent. Needing something to do, she flipped through the news and noted several incidents of high crime in the vicinity.

Clicking the screen off, she found herself disappointed for the first time in years. Maybe she should make some new acquaintances. She pulled up Ereziel’s number but hesitated at tapping to call. It wasn’t uncommon for the archangels to have cell phones nowadays. In fact, they loved it. It kept them in contact with everyone they knew, and they knew a lot of people, for they were immortal. Timeless.

Instead, she decided to text Ereziel, hoping he was around and would answer quickly. She needed to get to the bottom of this mystery about Ariuk’s locket and find out why he’d been a mark. After sending the text, she tucked it away as Adam slid a hot plate onto the table in front of her. He gave her a snappy wink before moving on to help another customer. She shoveled her food into her mouth, barely chewing, as her thoughts floated over last night’s events.

The look in the Ariuk’s eyes had been unsettling, as though he’d been thrilled she was killing him and putting him out of his immortal misery. Or was he relieved to be free of the locket? What a strange man. She’d never met an immortal like that; crude, ready for death. They all had something going for them, some business, side hustle, pseudo-family, or anything really. Maybe she saw too much of herself in him. Loneliness, loss, suffering. The worst part was that they were nothing alike. He had committed crimes most of his immortal life and she, well, one could say that she was also a criminal, but her motives were virtuous. The demons she killed… they were the worst of the worst. She did everyone a favor ridding the world of such creatures. How could anyone accuse her of any wrongdoing when her mission was righteous?

She sighed, pushing her empty plate away and waving down Adam for her bill. She left him a hefty tip and tried to escape before he scampered back over but didn’t move quickly enough. He looked surprised, if not a touch disappointed, by the fact that she was already leaving.

He held up a pot of coffee. You want any more? I just made a fresh pot.

No, thanks. I think I wolfed my breakfast down too fast. Might make a trip back up.

I got a cure for that. You want to try my special hangover smoothie? All natural, and it makes you feel like million bucks.

She lifted an eyebrow, giving him a cynical look. Um… what’s in it? My stomach is in a bad way.

He eyed the empty plate, looking incredulous. Well, I promise it’s nothing weird. Works wonders. Trust me.

She watched him as he went back behind the counter to throw some ingredients together: orange juice, ginger ale, some herbs, and other miscellaneous stuff. She decided she might as well drink the concoction. She’d known Adam long enough to know he was pretty close to perfect, someone a woman could settle down with; hardworking, strong, stable. Someone who was completely incompatible with her lifestyle.

He was also a mortal, putting him in her book of people to definitely stay away from. The thought made her sad, for she would’ve liked to have someone to talk to about things. She had never considered having children or having a worthwhile relationship as a mortal; she’d been too young to worry about such things, having only been seventeen when she’d died. As an immortal, there was no way she could have children, let alone a husband. She was damned to live a solitary life.

Here you go. Bottoms up. Let me know how it pepped you up the next time you come in. I’m always willing to mix it up for you. He smiled, his cheeks crimson as he spoke to her while he fidgeted. He acted confident, but she could read the signs of his insecurity: picking his nails, running his hands through his unruly, red hair. She often wondered how serious his crush was. She could tell he had more than just platonic feelings toward her, but she always turned down his advances no matter how much he looked like he wanted to ask her out every time he saw her. There was no point. The answer was always no.

She threw back the smoothie, feeling it coat her belly in a cool, syrupy way. Wow, that really worked fast. My stomach feels better already.

I told you. I’m pretty good at these things. I used to bartend, and that was one of our secret remedies. It will revive anyone. He winked again, giving her his wide, award-winning smile. His red hair shined in the morning light. His smooth skin was peppered with freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and she found herself staring at him. She looked away but not without feeling his disappointment as a soft sigh left his lips.

Thank you, Adam. I’ll see you around, okay?

He nodded. Of course. Any time. You know where to find me.

She stood and waved shyly before heading out of the diner, feeling his eyes glued to her back as she stepped out into the street. His gaze remained on her until she turned the corner, and she propped herself against the wall, her heartbeat racing. She liked that he wanted more from her, but she didn’t care for the unjust feeling that there could be nothing between them. Maybe it was time to make more room, settle down, and find something close to that thing called love. Even immortals had hearts. Even immortal hearts could break or become truly lost and lonely. Maybe it was time to remedy that.

But first she had some errands to run before marching off to find her boss.

Chapter Three

The park was pleasant even though there were plenty of people bustling around. Kids were tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks or buying cotton candy off the vendors while squealing with delight. People were perched by the fountain enjoying the warmth of the sun peeking out from the clouds above. The weather had been fluctuating lately, but it was growing warmer day by day as the summer tiptoed toward them. She recalled that the forecast had predicted rain and a temperature drop, but for now, there was no sign of the storm.

Thalia loved the scents filling the park, from the greenery and hedges to even the damp mulch. She let the warmth of the sun spread across her back and ease into her aches as she made her way through the park, fighting the crowds. The outskirts were lined with benches along a path. As she passed one, she barely noticed the homeless man beneath the sheets of newspaper spread out on top of him. She stopped as she heard him mutter something. Nope, you can’t buy your way into Heaven. Doesn’t work that way. Not for your kind.

Thalia slowly turned toward the man, who remained sleeping, eyes closed, and snoring softly as if he hadn’t just uttered the suspicious words. Why would he say those things? She peered around to see if there were any demons about, manipulating him in his most vulnerable state. Sure, possession was possible, though most possessed fresh corpses. Glancing around, she saw nothing strange, but she felt icy pinpricks gathering across her skin.

This is ridiculous, she muttered. Shaking her head, she continued down the path, eyes wide open and scanning the horizon with her paranoia turned all the way up. She was on her way to visit her weapons dealer, Matt Timothy Hannigan. She pushed the words of the dreaming homeless man out of her mind. Matt was working on a special sword for her, and she couldn’t wait to feel it in her hands. The sword had rare qualities; it was an angel-killer.

Matt was one of a few metalworkers she bought weapons from, and when he’d told her he’d developed a blade which could slice through anything and anyone, even angels and high demons, she’d been more than interested. It wouldn’t kill archangels, he’d said, but it could hurt them. That was the kind of weapon she needed, especially since Ereziel had recently been adding more powerful demons and corrupted angels to her hit list.

She rarely went to see Matt. It wasn’t because she didn’t like him. However, it took months for him to create a weapon for her, so the visits weren’t frequent. It also didn’t help that the blacksmith was a bit of an irresistible temptation for her. He liked to madly flirt with her even when she’d adamantly turned down his advances, time and time again. With both him and Adam as prospects, she certainly wouldn’t be lonely if she could ever give in and start dating.

It was not a choice she could make, nor did she want to. There was so much at stake, so much to lose, and the pain from her last heartbreak would have been enough to send her to a nunnery if she’d been mortal. Love was unattainable for her, and tempting fate was a dangerous proposition.

As much as she tried to act like she didn’t enjoy Matt’s company, it was the very reason she dreaded visiting him. The closer she got to caving in and going on a date with him, the farther apart their visits became. That was probably his game plan; wear her down until she couldn’t resist anymore or just stopped coming around.

The problem with Matt was that he was a mortal, even though he was gifted and probably had some latent magical powers of some sort. It didn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t live forever. Whatever gifts he had, passed down to him from his parents, he would die. That alone kept her from saying yes to his requests for a date. All that aside, no one else could forge swords like his. There was a magic in his fingertips, and she was afraid to discover what else his skilled hands could do for her.

Matt’s forge wasn’t far from her apartment, even though she avoided it. She loved that he always had a nice cache of shiny, new weapons and gadgets she could use against demons and angels alike, and even on the others who didn’t fall into either category. Any immortals who reeked of evil were marked. Besides being an excellent craftsman, Matt was talented in the use of these weapons, and he helped her familiarize herself with their uses. A session with him always left her exhilarated and flushed, for more reasons than one.

Thalia pushed against the heavy metal doors of the forge and peered around. There appeared to be no one there, but the smell of fire and metal tainted the air, which told her there had been some recent metalworking going on. Tools were spread across several tabletops. Barrels of water sat alongside anvils, sledgehammers, chisels, and tongs of every size.

The place was a chaotic mess, but she knew Matt had his own system of organization. She loved the smell of the place and the warmth of its atmosphere. Even the sharp scents of sweat, metal, and blood brought nothing but sweet memories to mind. It was as though it wielded its own magic and left her with something to crave. If asked, she’d deny it adamantly, but she couldn’t help visiting at least once a month. One hit a month. That was all she allowed herself. It kept Matt out of her thoughts and out of her blood.

Matt? Only her heartbeat rang out in her head. Heat from the forges, still crackling with fire, spread against the leather of her jacket and warmed her as she walked past them. Listening for any footsteps, she scanned the room. Maybe he’d stepped out for lunch. Maybe he’d fallen asleep in the back room. Poor guy. Being a mortal had its disadvantages. He would tire, need a nap, eat a ton, work, then sleep and repeat. Even though Thalia had to eat and sleep too, she didn’t require as much as he did.

She was far stronger than him, but he was quite a slick fighter. Sparring with him was a favorite activity for her. Humans were delicate creatures, but some were stronger than some of the immortals she had met. They were also far more inspiring and lovable than she wanted to admit.

Matt? she called out again. A rustling and the clink of metal had her whipping her body toward the door of the office, where Matt emerged, smiling radiantly at a woman who was accompanying him. He glanced Thalia’s way before turning back toward the woman.

I’ll see you next week then?

Yes. Thank you, Matt. I look forward to seeing the merchandise. I’ll see you in a week.

He watched the woman walk away, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. She threw an inquisitive look Thalia’s way, giving her the once-over before grinning and heading out, her heels clicking as she left.

Sometimes Thalia forgot she wasn’t his only customer, but that lady was silently judging her with her fancy hairstyle, designer clothes, and perfect makeup. Thalia had never felt more ordinary in her leather jacket, black T-shirt, and dark jeans. If there was ever a moment she had felt jealously, this was it.

Chapter Four

Hey there, stranger. Matt nodded her way, grinning sheepishly. I didn’t know you were in town. How are you?

He reached her quickly, and she folded into his awaiting arms, feeling the warmth of his body. The taint of metal, grease, and burning leather clung to him like a second skin. She loved inhaling the comforting aroma. It relaxed her, which made her wonder if he had a little bit more magic than he cared to admit. Maybe he was part something otherworldly, but there was no telling what.

I’m fine. I didn’t leave town, though. In fact, I’ve been around a little too much, I think. There’s some strange stuff going on around here, and I’ve been getting a lot of bounties lately. More difficult ones.

He lifted an eyebrow, curious and knowing full well what she meant. She was there for weapons. New and innovative ones.

You mean your ancient birdbrain boss has been sending you on a thousand errands lately? That man needs to find somebody else to do his dirty work or do it himself. He clicked his tongue as he waved her toward the back of the shop, where he kept the weapons he’d made especially for her. I’ve been working on a new cache of goodies. You can use these on those special errands of yours.

Awesome. Where are they?

Listen. He paused, playing with her fingers, for he hadn’t let go of her hands since they’d hugged. I’ve been really concerned about your safety lately. I was thinking that the farther away you stay from your enemies, the better. I’ve made some throwing weapons.

Thalia kept her eyes down, watching his fingers toy with hers. She had to admit that she liked the way he thought and agreed to check out the throwing weapons, but hand-to-hand combat was more her thing. Fighting magical beings was dangerous in and of itself; she couldn’t be killed, as far as she knew, but she’d suffered many injuries in her line of work. Still, fighting at a distance felt like cheating herself of the adrenaline rush.

Yeah. You’re right. The farther away I am from an enemy, the better. What do you have for me?

Well, to start—he opened a tied-up leather roll, displaying many short blades of different lengths and sizes—throwing knives and stars.

Ah, a touch of the Orient. I’m interested. Throwing blades weren’t her specialty, but she could see how they would help with distance kills.

These puppies are going to be your new best friends. Their aim will be true, no matter how much your throwing sucks. He winked. He loved getting a rise out of her, even at the risk of pissing her off.

And you know this how? If my aim is so terrible, what good are these?

Matt lifted an eyebrow. Let’s just say I learned a new little magic trick to make their aim true. They’ll go in the direction of any target you concentrate on. Pretty handy, right?

She stared back at him, suspicious. And who taught you this little trick?

My lips are sealed. But trust me, it works. I made a set for another warrior, and they’ve already put in another order for more. It’s going to be a popular thing. I have orders coming in from across the world, but I was concentrating on making a set for you first. Trust me, you’re going to love me for making them. Oh, and I don’t take credit cards, by the way, for any future orders. Gold only, please, although kisses and cuddles accepted in lieu of payment, but not in any creepy way. This set is on the house, for my best and most loyal customer.

And there it was. There was more than one reason she’d never date Matt; he never gave up, and his cheesy sense of humor could get on her last damn nerve if she hung around him too long. He also never made a weapon for anybody unless they paid in solid gold. It was an odd request from a mortal, but his preference to be paid in gold was actually the easiest thing he wanted from her. She just didn’t know why he wanted the precious metal, since it was difficult to exchange for paper currency without being highly suspected by mortals. Cash was always good for her.

At least Matt had his priorities right. He worked hard for his money, and he used his profits to acquire more of the rare materials he needed to make his unique weapons. She could see how everything Matt did was to better himself and his craft, even learning spells to enchant his weapons.

Damn. She liked him far too much. She needed to grab the weapons he had for her and get out of there.

All right. Can I test one out? I need to be somewhere soon. It’s not going to aim at you since you’re the only other person in the room, is it? I don’t want to be hitting innocent bystanders.

You won’t have to worry about that. This is one spell worth every penny. Just concentrate on your target—that bull’s-eye on the wall over there—and you’ll hit the middle every time. If you think about me now, which I hope you don’t, then I guess I’m dead meat. Should I put on some armor before you do this?

Thalia stared at him, shocked. Could he really think that she would kill him with his own magical throwing daggers? Maybe he didn’t know her that well. Maybe she ought to let him know her a little better to erase any doubts in his mind.

Yeah, better not, she thought as she snatched one of the throwing daggers and smirked at him before turning her eyes toward the target and concentrating on the yellow dot in the center of the rings. Swinging her arm back, she put all her muscle into the throw and let it fly across the room, purposely aiming for the edge of the target and not the middle, to see if the spell would work. With a loud thunk, the dagger sank right into the middle of the yellow dot.

Whoa. She straightened, her eyes widening as she studied the target. Her lips upturned into a large grin as she looked back at Matt, absolutely thrilled.

Now that’s what I call shootin’, Tex! He held out a hand for a high five. She smacked it, too excited to realize how crazy it all was.

Matt smiled, folding his arms and puffing out his chest. He was so proud, but Thalia shook her head. She couldn’t help but to chuckle. It was always fun hanging out with him, and that was what she was afraid of.

Her smile melted away as she stared at the target across the room while Matt took a moment to pack the other blades he’d made for her. These weapons would never be approved of by any of the archangels. She’d already known the sword she’d commissioned, one that could kill angels and high demons, would have to be kept hidden from them, but what if Matt’s skills were discovered? What if they put a price on his head just for making her the sword?

Her thoughts were concerning, but for now, she listened as he briefly went over the uses of all the weapons before handing her the leather roll. It included not only throwing daggers but poison darts, a small crossbow, and one folding walking stick. Next, Matt held out a bundle tied with leather straps and bound in a thick layer of supple cowhide.

Finally, the piece she’d been waiting for: an angel-killer blade. It would be her signature weapon from now on, and he had enchanted it with plenty of useful magical charms just for her.

As they finished their transaction, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a small but heavy pouch of gold and slapped it into his large, rough hand. He curled his fingers around the sack and around her hand without letting go. His fingers were long enough to firmly wrap around her tiny hand. For a moment they stared at each other, both full of longing and want, until Thalia finally looked away and tugged her hand free. Glancing back up, she gave him a small smile before gathering the weapons into a duffle bag he’d provided. She waved goodbye to him before heading toward the door.

Was that severe disappointment burning in his eyes? She knew what was in her heart, the words she could never say, the feelings she adamantly denied. She kept the things she desired most out of reach for good reason. She wasn’t truly alive, but she wasn’t truly dead, and the whole purpose of her life was to gain entrance into Heaven where her soul could finally rest. She wouldn’t have to hunt evil beings anymore. There, she would have no need to fall in love, have a partner, seek solace in the arms of another. Maybe then she would have answers about her past, about her life, about who she’d really been before her death, and why she’d been denied the one thing she wanted the most: to pass through the gates of Heaven.

In the meantime, there could be no distractions, and nothing could get in her way. Not even a handsome blacksmith who could probably love her well. No, not even Adam, the waiter at the diner. No one. For now, Ereziel was the only man who could give her what she wanted. Too bad he was a bastard, a corrupted archangel. He may have known how to help her garner entrance into Purgatory, but the archangel was not kind to people. He was a trickster; a con artist. She had to be careful around Ereziel. Matt and Adam were to be kept far from his clutches at all costs.

Over the years, she’d learned to tolerate Ereziel’s profound distrust of anyone she took a liking to just so she could keep working toward her goal. Unfortunately, he was the only one who knew the marks to go after. Now that she had the angel-killer sword, she would have more leverage against him. Next time she saw the archangel, they’d be on more level ground.

Chapter Five

Leaving the forge always left her feeling empty. Or maybe she was full of want. She couldn’t quite tell what the feeling was, but seeing Matt always left her itching for something more. The storm clouds rolling in from the east gave her some distraction as she made her way home, but the agony of being so alone back in her studio apartment was unbearable. Enough so, she turned up her music and shoved the Murphy bed up into the wall to begin her daily training ritual.

The space was just big enough for her to work out. Starting her routine, she warmed up her muscles, stretching and rolling them, feeling them out. Most were still sore from several fights the past week, especially from the last one with Ariuk. He hadn’t exactly fought back, but he hadn’t been weak. She wondered what the demon had done in his time on Earth and how he had ended up on an archangel’s hit list.

Thinking about Ereziel, she quickly checked her phone as she threw back a swallow of water, inhaling and exhaling quickly as her workout got more intense. The bastard had not texted her back yet. What was he up to? He never took this long to answer her. In fact, sometimes she had to turn off her phone to keep him from badgering her. Yes, he was a corrupt archangel, always getting involved with human crime lords and the like, but he had a certain charm about him. Archangels liked to control those who were breaking the law, and their immortal status pretty much guaranteed they could dominate any crime bosses they chose. He liked to taunt everyone, especially any angels under his command. It was easy for him; he was untouchable.

She glanced at her angel-killer sword. She’d already hung it on the wall for easy access while she slept. Not even her special sword could kill an archangel. Nothing really could. It was unfortunate, but the idea made her blood run cold. She shouldn’t think about such things. It wasn’t their fault they were so unemotional and far removed from reality. After being stranded when the gates of Heaven had shut, the archangels had been left no choice but to reign on Earth. They were pretty much invincible. It was the lower angels and demons who could die by this enchanted sword. She sometimes had difficulty with the more powerful demons, but this sword would solve that. If she ever figured out how to kill an archangel, Ereziel would probably be the first. Or not. She groaned. The idea of killing him refused to leave her alone.

Her musings ran rampant through her head if she let them, so she concentrated on her workout instead. Even so, she couldn’t help but think back to the first time she’d met Ereziel.

Fresh from being cast out from Heaven and even rejected at the gates of Hell, she’d found herself lost on Earth and quite alone. The quest to find Purgatory had crossed her mind, but with no way in even if she did locate it, she’d been doomed to futility. Then she’d met the archangel. He had found her huddled on a park bench under a tree during a rainstorm, shivering and crying, her tears washing away with the rainwater. He’d approached her and told her he knew what had happened. He’d said he could help her and had reached out to take her hand. She’d been barely seventeen, with no memory of how she had become an immortal instead of resting with her family in Heaven. She could remember that it had happened, but the details were lost to her. She hadn’t even fully understood what she was until Ereziel explained it all to her.

She had been mortal, yes, and had once been alive, with a family full of love and warmth. What had happened to it all? Why had she been cast out of Heaven? How had her family been accepted, but not her? Why had she been treated differently?

Ereziel had taken her to his opulent home, given her food, a place to live, a chance to finish her schooling, and an opportunity to do whatever her heart desired. He offered her the choice of a normal life, but she’d have to forget about finding her family. Alternatively, she could have a chance of rejoining them in Heaven. There would be only one catch. She would have to work for him as a mercenary, destroying the unjust to earn her way into Purgatory. From there, she should be able to reenter Heaven. It hadn’t taken her long to accept the job.

He ended up training her, strengthening her new immortal body so she could kill the foes he needed her to take down. He had molded her into his warrior. His personal killer. Now here she was, years later, still doing his bidding, still waiting to acquire enough vile souls for payment into Purgatory.

That damned archangel! He wasn’t forthcoming about how many souls she’d have to collect. He had peered at her with cold eyes while leaning forward and stating, When you have enough, you’ll find yourself back in Purgatory. Before that, you’ll always be denied. You’ll know when you’ve collected enough.

It hadn’t been the answer she’d sought. Would there ever be enough souls? Maybe he didn’t know either. Maybe no amount of souls would ever get her back in. And what if she got to Purgatory but they still wouldn’t let her through the gates of Heaven? As much as she distrusted Ereziel, she didn’t have a choice but to take him at his word. The thought of never seeing her family again had been unbearable, so she’d stopped asking but kept killing those who made the unfortunate mistake of ending up as a mark.

Funny how Ereziel was so skilled at changing the subject. He’d tried to appease her with other things, like telling her where the graves of her family were located. She had missed the funeral. For some time, his method of distraction had worked quite well, for she had gone immediately to find the graves. By then, they had been long in the ground, for immortals perceived time differently. Decades had passed, but to her it had seemed like only weeks before Ereziel had found her on that bench. She could barely see the inscriptions on the graves through the tall grass growing up around the stones.

Another problem surrounding their deaths was that no one remembered her or her family. Someone had erased them from existence, a fact that bothered her no matter how much time passes. Ereziel had told her the truth about them; these were their graves and that was all. It was all she would ever know, but at least, for the time being, it was all she needed.

She had spent a few years going to the graves daily, placing flowers, removing the dead ones. The old cemetery caretaker never asked her questions. He would quietly appear now and then, off to the side, observing without any opinion, without any kind of judgment in his eyes. Maybe he was an immortal too, but she doubted it. He was an old man full of knowledge, and he looked wiser than most immortals she had met. Maybe he knew she was an immortal. Maybe he knew what she was capable of.

Regardless, she had spent a good year or two or three doing this, until one day, she did not return. She had not visited the graves since. She wondered if the caretaker had died by now, or if the graves had become overgrown and forgotten once more. Something in her had died along with her family, and she couldn’t think of them without feeling hollow.

That was no longer her life. Killing vile and evil souls and collecting them to be able to enter Purgatory was her single goal. She swore she’d see her family again one day and find some sort of peace.

Thalia stopped her workout as the feeling of being watched flooded her superior senses. Past her reflection shining on the window, someone was indeed watching her from a rooftop several buildings away. She had shredded the curtains in the process of training and failed to replace them and was now in full view of the stranger. She stared directly at her observer, who stood