

The Unbreakable Curse

Accursed Archangels #1

A Dark Urban Fantasy of Magic and Realms

Copyright © March 2018 Alexia Purdy

All rights reserved

Published by

Lyrical Lit. Publishing

Cover Design by Melancholy Muse Designs

Stock Art Credit: Katie Litchfield

www.alexiapurdybooks.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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More books by Alexia Purdy:

Accursed Archangels:

The Unbreakable Curse

The Cursed Labyrinth (Coming Soon)

The Irredeemable Soul (Coming Soon)

The ArcKnight Chronicles:

ArcKnight

Sovereignty

Reign of Blood Series

Resonant

Reign of Blood

Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)

Elijah (The Miel Chronicles):

A Reign of Blood Companion Story

Amplified (Reign of Blood #3)

A Dark Faerie Tale Series

The Withering Palace (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.1)

Evangeline (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.5)

Ever Shade (A Dark Faerie Tale #1)

Ever Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #2)

Ever Winter (A Dark Faerie Tale #3)

The Cursed (A Dark Faerie Tale #3.5)

Ever Wrath (A Dark Faerie Tale #4)

Without Armor (A Dark Faerie Tale #4.5)

History of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #5)

Ever Dead (A Dark Faerie Tale #6)

Legends of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #7)

Guardians of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #8)

Other Stories

The Fall of Sky

Papercut Doll

Wicked Grove

Anthologies

Soul Games

Faery Worlds

Faery Tales

Once Upon a Curse

The Shapeshifter Chronicles

It's a Bird! It's A Plane! A Superhero Anthology

Once Upon a Kiss

The Aching Darkness

Once Upon a Quest

Wicked Magic

Dreams Are Stranger Than Fiction

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Acknowledgments

About the Author

More by Alexia Purdy

Dedicated to Rayven, my fierce warrior.

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 heart beat 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 eyeing her back. In the dimming light of dusk, she couldn't quite tell if it was a man or a woman staring at her. The figure wore a long trench coat, which wavered in the wind.

She shivered. Who would be watching her at this hour? There was no one who knew where she lived. It was her sanctuary, this tiny studio where she kept small artifacts she had cherished over the years. There were no real close friends, lovers, or family she could bring to her place. Not even Ereziel had been there, so who was this person watching her train?

The figure remained, unmoving. She quickly threw on her jacket and shoes then grabbed the angel-killer sword, shoved it into its sheath, and tucked it beneath her jacket as best she could. She ran out the door, slammed it shut, and then locked it behind her, hoping the stranger would still be waiting when she arrived.

Chapter Six

The clouds broke open as she stepped outside, and the rain came down in sheets for several minutes before finally slowing to a drizzle. Luckily, it wasn't as cold as it looked. The clouds kept in the heat of the day. The sunny park had been so welcoming earlier in the day, and she wished she'd spent more time there, enjoying it.

Reaching the roof of the apartment building was not difficult for a person of her skills. She waited for someone to exit the building and sprinted in through the swinging door. People rarely noticed her when she chose not be seen; she had the ability to blend into the background. Years of experience had taught her much about what people saw or didn't see in their periphery. Most people were too involved in their own thoughts or focused on their cellphones to give her a second glance.

Just the way she liked it.

Taking the stairs, she made it to the top five minutes after she'd first seen the stranger from her window. She slammed the metal roof door open and drew her sword but found no one waiting. There were no wet footprints heading down the stairwell either, which led her to believe the stranger must have jumped to another building or... flown away?

She shook her head. She had not seen any wings on the stranger. Had he or she hidden them from her? She hadn't expected to see any angels in this part of town. They tended to stick to the swankier areas. They had money, for immortality usually allowed for the accumulation of wealth. Thalia didn't lack any kinds of funds, but she lived modestly. It wasn't worth it to bring attention to herself when she needed to function in stealth mode.

She checked each corner of the rooftop before searching the surrounding buildings. Finding the spot where the stranger had stood staring straight into her window, she peered down at her feet and spotted a single grey feather. It was long, abnormally long, and too large to belong to a bird of any kind. She reached down and picked it up. Beads of water slid off the feather, its sleek, oily surface easily repelling the fluid. It was big enough to belong to an angel, but an angel with gray wings? Although it wasn't unheard of for angels to possess beautifully colored wings, most had white wings. This was a completely different coloring. A gray-winged angel would be quite rare.

She peered around as she shook the rest of the beads of water off the feather and tucked it into one of her jacket's many pockets. Reseating her sword, she listened as the rain pattered against the roof beneath her feet. She liked this weather, even if her hair was already drenched. Wings would be useful. She envied the angels' majestic appendages. What would it be like to take off and fly across the city's pinnacles? It was probably exhilarating, and for a single breath, she felt envy burn through her. If one was to live forever, having wings would've been a nice bonus. But she wasn't that blessed. She was cursed... grounded. Add that to the list of cons about being immortal.

Exhaling, she turned and headed back to the stairwell, but a ringing began in her ears, growing quickly. It forced her to her knees, and she grasped at her head.

Return home. The beacons call you. Return home.

The voice was calm and subtle, reminding her of Ariuk's, which was impossible, for he was dead-dead now. She'd done it with her own hands. Who was speaking to her? She squeezed her eyes together, waiting out the dizzying pain.

Come home. The beacons call you.

The ringing eased suddenly, and she dropped her hands, holding a crouch as she tried to slow her breathing. The pain eased off, but it had left her woozy and disorientated. Slowly, she got to her feet and stumbled toward the stairwell door, afraid to be caught out on the rooftop, vulnerable and unready.

What was going on? She swallowed as she leaned against the wall just inside the doorway. Her heart raced, her head throbbing slightly. Her stomach felt uneasy as she braced herself for a few moments before she managed to make her way down the stairs one by one, grasping the railing to stay upright. By the time she reached the ground floor, she felt better, but the feeling of uneasiness remained.

Spotting a Japanese eatery across the way, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the slight rainfall once more. Her hair was damp and lay like snakes across her shoulders. Her shirt felt wet, but she didn't care. She needed some food to settle her dizziness and empty stomach. Her intense workout before investigating the rooftop had done nothing but ignite the hunger pangs now pummeling her insides and contributing to her fuzzy thoughts. Food would help.

Inside, the hostess gave her a rude once-over before snapping a menu into her hand and waving her forward. Most of the patrons must've looked just as soaked, for she led Thalia to a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant without any complaints. She slid into the seat, shook off her drenched jacket and checked her shirt. It wasn't too wet, just the front. She felt cool, but the warm air from the kitchen wafted onto her, bringing with it the scent of cooking food.

She relished the warmth. She ordered some sake, miso soup, and sushi when the waitress arrived. The alcohol warmed her insides as she let the heat penetrate her bones. This day was starting to worsen as it went on. She made a note to purchase some curtains at the linen store around the corner and head straight home to hang them. If the stranger returned, she'd be ready. Sleeping with a knife and gun beneath her pillow would be necessary tonight.

The food filled her belly, and exhaustion began to creep in and embrace her like a lover. She downed the rest of her sake, feeling its warmth settle her stomach. At least she got to finish her meal before three large Asian men approached her booth and formed a wall beside her.

"Our master, Ichiro, demands you give us the key you stole from Ariuk. Do this, and you won't be harmed."

Thalia eyed the three guards and knew exactly who they belonged to. The Japanese Yakuza leader was the archangel Ichiro, who she'd never met but had heard plenty of stories about. The fact they knew she was there made her suspicious of the wait staff, and she threw a shady look toward her hostess, who was watching the entire encounter. The girl's eyes widened, and to her credit, she ducked behind the cashier's booth, spooked.

Good thing Thalia wasn't in the mood to waste innocent bystanders. She shifted her eyes back to the three men, and she sighed. No one had time for this. Not even on a good day.

"What makes you think Ariuk gave me anything?"

"Ichiro was having Ariuk watched. He was seen presenting the key to you, but the man following him didn't want to get too close. We searched his remains after you buried them, and it wasn't there. Since you're the last one to see him alive, you must still have it."

One of the men crossed his gargantuan arms and narrowed his beady eyes at her. "We know you have it. Don't make this difficult."

Thalia shook her head, sipping the last of her sake. At least she was done eating. "He didn't give me any 'key,' so if you don't mind, I'm done here." She threw down money to pay the bill and scooted to the end of the booth. Staring up at one of the large guards, who refused to budge, she cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

The guard remained planted but glanced at the man in the middle, who seemed to be the one giving the orders. He shook his head.

Are you kidding me? thought Thalia. Just one moment of peace today would have been a kindness. Now Ichiro's three doofuses were after her, and more brawn than brains, yes, but her body ached from the pain she'd experienced earlier. She was far from being in the mood to obliterate these three gorillas.

"I don't have your stupid key, and who said you could dig up dead bodies properly buried? How dare you deface a blessed grave? It's in the Concurrence that you don't dig up the bodies the hunters bury. That's defacing hallowed ground." She scowled, overdoing her annoyance to get the point across. "I'm going to have to redo the blessings to keep his body from reanimating into a zombie now. Thanks a lot."

"We reburied the corpse. No need to worry about that. He didn't have the key on him, so if you have it, Ichiro wants it. It's rightfully his to claim. Ariuk worked directly for him."

"Like I said"—Thalia jumped to her feet, giving the nearest guard a slight shove to the chest—"I don't have any key, so let me take my leave or there'll be hell to pay once I inform Ereziel about Ichiro's goons." She glared at the three, daring them to try to keep her from leaving, but the one in the middle threw a look to the one blocking her, and he moved his massive body out of the way. She threw them a sour smile as she left the restaurant, hiding the panic blossoming inside her as much as she could.

Ariuk's grave had been disturbed by the Yakuza. This would allow his body to haunt her, since she'd been the one to kill him. Instead of heading home like she'd planned, she turned in the direction of the graveyard and hurried. She had to make sure he'd been reburied correctly and given last rites, or the body would be restless.

She suspected that his soul would not be anchored to her, since she'd failed to collect it by taking the locket instead, but his body had to be quieted either way. She couldn't let a zombie walk around this city; it was too populated and would cause widespread panic.

Ariuk's haunting message that she didn't belong to this realm, but another, hovered in her mind. Could it be true? Why would the Yakuza want the relic badly enough to upturn a blessed corpse? They were crazy. Disturbing graveyards was dangerous work, and very few knew the way to ease the dead to eternal sleep like she did. Mercenaries like her knew the rituals, but most gangsters, like the Yakuza, ignored protocols.

Then there was the problem of the stranger on the rooftop. His message had been painful and debilitating, if it'd been a he at all. She had to find out what the stranger wanted before the Yakuza came sniffing around again. Sooner or later they'd discover she had lied. Sooner or later, she'd have to face Ichiro anyway. The Yakuza had ruined the rest of her day. What else could go wrong?

Chapter Seven

Thalia kneeled by Ariuk's unmarked grave. How the Yakuza had known where to find his body told her more than she wanted to know. Someone was tracking her. She was usually the tracker, but now she was on the other side of the fence.

Frowning, she placed her hands on the stirred-up ground and closed her eyes. It rumbled before a mound of dirt funneled out of the hole and piled neatly to the side. Once done, Thalia peered in to find the body in disarray. Damn Yakuza had reburied him all right, but they had failed to perform another last rites ritual to keep it dormant and from returning to life. Ariuk's lost soul could reacquire the body and be given a passage back to haunt her, and for that, she'd have to find those Yakuza henchmen again and beat them for the inconvenience of having to redo her magical seal on Ariuk's grave.

As she held her hands up, about to chant the spell, her head rang again, badly enough for her to grasp at her ears, pressing hard as the sound cut through her thoughts.

"Stop, please," she begged.

Return. The beacons await you. Find the Skein. The locket is the key.

"What?" She bent over, the ringing piercing her brain. It felt like she was having a stroke. "Please...."

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the ringing stopped. Thalia remained on her knees, heaving hard as she dug her fingers into the earth. Whoever was affecting her so had to stop doing that before he killed her. She cursed under her breath, finally able to sit back up. Before it had a chance to start up again, she sealed the grave with a spell and smoothed the dirt over the body.

She wasn't sure if it'd work a second time, but it was worth the effort. Thoroughly exhausted, she got to her feet and stumbled out of the graveyard, afraid she could barely walk toward her apartment. She just wanted to make it home, slip under the covers and sleep for a decade. She checked her phone for any messages from Ereziel as her fingers shook and the rain came down harder. She found an overhanging tree where she took shelter from the worst of it, but it wasn't ideal. There, shivering and cold, she closed her eyes, too tired to care where she was even though this place flooded her with memories of her first night as an immortal. The same kind of weather, the same kind of dreary, miserable rain. The only thing missing was....

In the distance, she could hear Ereziel's voice on her phone; she had accidently called him, and he had answered.

"Hello? Thalia? Are you all right?"

***

The bed was warm and smelled of fresh detergent and fabric softener. Whoever had washed these sheets knew how to keep them fresh for a long time. Thalia wished she had the patience to keep her laundry this well, but housework was definitely not her thing.

The crackle of a fire woke her as the logs popped and sprayed sparks up into the chimney. Soot stained the inside of the brickwork, but the warmth it expelled made Thalia want to stay in the bed forever. Just then, a horrible thought crossed her mind as she flipped her eyes open and sat up in a very familiar bed.

She couldn't stay there. It wasn't a good idea. Her head pounded from the sudden movement, and she lay back down to ease the throbbing. Just how had she gotten there? She was last sitting under a large tree, the rain coming down in sheets, her fingers white like a corpse's. She'd been shivering and exhausted, drained to the last drop from the effort it had taken to rebury Ariuk's body. And then there were the mental assaults. Yeah, that was it. So how in the world had she made it into... Ereziel's bedroom?

She sat up again, grimacing as her body protested. This was Ereziel's room. She would recognize it anywhere. The subtle reminder of why she knew this room stabbed at her chest. Years did nothing to make that empty hole inside her disappear. Love for immortals was much more caustic than for mortals. In fact, she was sure it was almost fatal if not done right. She had learned that the hard way and still continued to suffer its effects years later, when the love should have faded to nothing but memories. Too bad that wasn't how it went with her love life.

"Dammit," she muttered as she yanked the blanket off and swung her legs down onto the plush maroon rug. She had to admit, Ereziel's sense of style hadn't changed in the time since she'd called this chamber her own. It had remained the same, and it reached inside of her, churning up the years she'd spent with the archangel despite her reluctance to think about that part of her life.

She was naked but for a silk spaghetti-strap slip. She groaned. Did he keep these things lying around? Where were her clothes? Perturbed, she clamped her arms over her chest, feeling a slight chill as she left the bed. Finding a robe lying on the nearest armchair, she draped it over her shoulders, weaving her slender but muscular arms through the armholes. Tying it snug to her waist, she stepped forward slowly, still feeling woozy. Out in the hallway, she walked down toward the living quarters, her fingers touching the velvet-wallpapered walls to keep upright. She could make her way around his home with her eyes closed. That's how many years she'd spent there.

It wasn't a comforting thought. She hadn't returned ever since making it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the archangel. He was still her boss, but she'd avoided any close involvement with the guy for good reason.

God, those years... she brushed them from her mind as she made it to the living room, a large space filled with antique relics and sofas with scrolled wooden frames. They didn't make furniture like this anymore, that was for sure. She peered around the dimly lit room. Another fire was roaring in the hearth. It'd been a favorite room of hers, for there were bookshelves lining the walls, all the way up to the roof. She'd spent hours right by that fireplace, reading and rereading her favorites.

Her heart squeezed at the memories, and she slowly breathed in to hold back the tears. Those days seemed like they'd happened centuries ago. How had time passed so quickly, yet there she stood as though it had not gone by at all? She swallowed down the knot lodged in her throat and turned back into the hall to check the other rooms.

Despite the roaring fire, the place felt cold... abandoned.

Chapter Eight

"Hello?" Thalia's voice bounced off the walls, but nothing answered back. She sighed, rubbing her arms and about to give up when a noise perked up her senses. "Ereziel?"

"It's been a long time, Lia," Ereziel's voice boomed through the hall. He was the only one who called her Lia; it was a relic of more intimate times.

"Ereziel, what the hell? Where are my clothes?" She wasn't one to dance around the subject. If there was anywhere in the world she wanted to be, it wasn't there.

"Always in a rush. You never did like to stop and smell the roses, did you?" Ereziel emerged from a hall on her right, shirtless, with his brilliant white wings folded behind him. The tips brushed the ground but somehow remained immaculate no matter how much he dragged them.

Thalia glared at him. How dare he find this so casual?

"I'm not in a rush. I'd just rather not do this." She waved her hand out as she began to pace. "How did you find me?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Really? You live in the same century as I do. Have you not heard of GPS tracking? You called me but didn't say anything when I answered. I had the cellphone company tell me where you were. I do own it, you know."

"I messaged you all morning. Why didn't you respond?" This was getting her nowhere fast. Her frustration only grew, talking to him. This was why she avoided it at all costs. She needed her clothes, and she needed to get out of there ASAP.

He chuckled as he sashayed past her and lazily draped himself across one of the oversized armchairs near the fireplace. It didn't appear comfortable, not with his large wings crushed beneath his weight. How did he stand sitting on them? Thalia cringed.

"It's wet and cold outside. Trust me, I didn't want to head out there in that mess, but I grew concerned. Finding you in that old graveyard, unconscious and freezing, wasn't reassuring. I figured you wouldn't squat there intentionally, so I took it upon myself to bring you back here. You were not looking so hot, to be honest."

"I—I," she stuttered, afraid of what might spill from her mouth. She clamped it shut, not knowing what to do. "Look, thank you for helping me, but I really need to get going. Where's my stuff? My weapons?"

"Oh, I took the liberty of having your clothing cleaned. The maids should be done with that any moment now." He eyed her, narrowing his gaze while studying her expression. "The sword was quite impressive, though I know how you lose your mind if I touch any of your stuff, so I left your weapons alone. The servants put them on a side table in the bedroom. Did you not see the pile?"

Damn. She'd been too fuzzy to notice. "No, I didn't. I'll check again."

Ereziel's eyes sparkled in the firelight. "The sword... is it Matt Timothy Hannigan's work, no? The Hannigans have been in the blacksmithing trade for centuries. Fine craftsmanship."

Matt's name slid off his tongue like poisoned honey. He knew she worked with the blacksmith often. Whatever else he knew about their relationship was a mystery. She hoped it wasn't much.

"Yes, it is."

Maybe she could use this to take the sting out of seeing him in person. She avoided meeting with Ereziel if she could. She wasn't the one who'd ended things years before. Neither one of them ended it, really. What had happened to them had been unfortunate. Her mission to find a way to Purgatory had consumed her, and he was an enabler for her obsession. She'd had to break away to grow. Find herself. Loving him was toxic, destructive, so she'd run from it. She'd run as fast and as far as she could while still taking orders and eliminating the people he sent her to kill.

She eyed him cautiously, carefully searching for redemption in the depths of his eyes, but all she could see was his handsome face, immaculate muscle structure, and those fascinating wings.

"He's pretty good with the metals. Not so good with anything else," Ereziel finally said.

And there it is. Ereziel's cockiness made her groan inwardly and turn away. He had a knack for saying the most criticizing things he could muster about other people. Lacking a sensitivity chip was a major flaw with him, and it included, unbeknownst to him, insults to her character. He was too stubborn to realize the damage he'd done. Some immortals never changed.

"My clothes? Where are they?" Thalia demanded. She needed out of there. Ereziel seemed to suck the air out of every room he was in, leaving her feeling weak. But what was that weakness, exactly? She didn't know if she wanted to throttle him or melt into his rock-hard chest and let him have his way with her again and again. It was infuriating to be in his presence, and she wanted nothing more than to get away from the temptation.

"Ah, here she is." The maid arrived just in time, holding a stack of familiar clothing. "I told you she'd be here any second. Why are you in such a rush? It's always such a treat to see you."

The maid held out her outfit, laundered and stiffly pressed. Even her leather jacket had somehow been cleaned of years of filth. It was hard to not admire the handiwork. She desperately wanted to be back in her own clothes, and there were two brilliant, brown archangel eyes staring at her, hungry to see what lay beneath her robe.

Once the maid had left, Thalia stripped down to nothing, donning her panties and bra without a thought to Ereziel being in the room. He was getting a show, yes, but did it matter? She didn't have anything he hadn't seen hundreds of times before. His eyes lingering on her form didn't make her blush anymore, and it served him right to be tortured with the one thing he could never have. The only way he affected her was when he looked her dead in the eyes with a soul full of regret.

She avoided those eyes like the plague.

She finished dressing, pulled on her jacket, and tossed the slip and robe onto a chair. She spun on the ball of her foot, heading out without a goodbye.

"Wait! Leaving so soon? Why did you text me before? You wanted something. Spit it out." He jogged to catch up to her and almost ran her over when she stopped.

Thalia halted suddenly, sighing. She'd forgotten about her questions. Darn it if she couldn't get away just yet.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me. The cursed soul on the list, the last one you gave me. One named Ariuk... who was he?"

Ereziel crinkled his eyebrows together, looking suspicious. "Oh, I see, it's about the bounty. Okay, then." He paced for a moment, cupping his chin as he rubbed it. Could he possibly be disappointed that her questions were just about work? This tickled her senses, but she straightened and did her best to keep any amusement from her face.

"He gave me something, and the Yakuza came after me for it."

This perked up the archangel. "What did he give you?"

"A locket. The Yakuza are calling it a key."

"What does it open?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. I just know since Ariuk gave it to me, someone has been messing with my head, telling me to return somewhere. They say the beacons are calling, whatever that means."

Ereziel kept silent but his eyes drifted to the floor as he paled. "I see."

"Do you know anything about a key to a place with beacons?"

He dropped his arm and shook his head adamantly. "No. I don't know about any key. Ariuk dealt with antiquities. Rare stuff from the old world, when Heaven's gates were still wide open. That stuff is powerful and should be destroyed, if you ask me, but I've never heard about any key or beacons."

"Could it be a key to Heaven?"

"There's no such thing."

"How do you know? Anything is possible. You said it yourself, Ariuk dealt with old magic. It's possible he had a key to the gates of Heaven. At least, that's my theory."

Ereziel continued to shake his head, frowning. "There were never any keys made to Heaven. Not from Earth, anyway."

Thalia glared at him. Maybe he knew something and wasn't letting on what it was. "What do you mean, not from Earth? Where else can one enter besides through the gates between Heaven and Purgatory?"

"Forget it. I don't know. There just never were any keys to Heaven. You must kill and collect the evil souls, they're your ticket in. Stock Hell with vile souls, and Heaven will eventually let you in via Purgatory."

She wanted to scream. He was just taking her round and round. No concrete answers, just more questions.

"Yes, I know that. But how many souls is it going to take to get in? It's been years, Ereziel. I've killed hundreds, if not thousands, of these cursed souls. I've grown impatient. I want to see my family again. I need to see them." Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them spill down her cheeks. "You promised this was the only way in. I've killed so many, yet it's still not enough. Will it ever be enough?"

Ereziel's strained face softened, and the blank expression he now wore infuriated her even more. He either didn't know anything or knew everything but refused to tell her.

"I don't know, Thalia. You're close. That's all I can say."

"Ugh!" She threw up her arms and stomped away, not wanting to talk to him anymore. She had some investigating to do, and if he didn't want to volunteer any information about the key, then she'd find someone who would.

Ereziel didn't call out to her this time but let her walk uninterrupted back to the bedroom for her weapons then right out the front door. Good. It served him right to feel cast aside for more important things in her life. Maybe now he understood how he had made her feel all those years ago, when love was all she'd had for him and time hadn't burned loneliness and resentment into her mind.

But Ereziel was no longer the one at the forefront of her mind. It was time to pay Ichiro, the archangel leader of the Yakuza, a long overdue visit.

Chapter Nine

The air outside hit her with a bite, the wind whipping her hair against her cheeks. At least the rain had stopped. Thalia made her way toward the downtown of New York City knowing full well where she was going. The anger bubbling up inside her only fueled her as she neared the Yakuza headquarters. She had a score to settle, and the Yakuza's archangel leader, Ichiro, was the only one she needed to see for answers.

Two bulky guards were posted at the entrance with arms crossed. They narrowed their eyes at her as she stepped into view.

"Get out of my way," she demanded. But the guards wouldn't move. Staring down their noses at Thalia, one of them gave her a subtle grunt of rejection, the answer to her demand. She drilled her eyes into both, daring them to continue rejecting her. She couldn't believe they would not open the door for her. They knew who she was and what she could do. Thalia Brennan, immortal mercenary, deadly, cold-blooded collector of souls. What was there not to fear?

"I said get out of my way, or else," she snarled.

"Or else what?" the guard snickered. He didn't seem impressed by her machismo, nor did he seem one bit threatened by her tiny figure and even smaller voice, no matter how gruff she made it sound. Thalia groaned as she continued to swing her eyes back and forth at the guards, hoping her reputation would click in their minds and they'd escort her in. Nearly a minute passed, and she rolled her eyes at their idiocy. There was no way she was getting in without the archangel Ichiro's approval.

"I must speak to your boss, Ichiro. It's urgent, and he would want to see me if he knew I was here. It's about Ariuk. He's under Ichiro's protection, and I killed him. All I ask is that you go tell your boss about him. You'll see. He'll want to see me right away."

One of the guards glanced at the other, clearly indicating who the one in charge was. He pressed his lips tightly, unhappy with his new chore, but he turned and walked into the club without another word. The Yakuza's leader was going to get a mouthful from her if it was the last thing she did. Walking into a den of Japanese criminals was not ideal, but most of them were mortal and much weaker than Thalia, which was a plus for her. She could take them down without a problem. It was the angel sidekicks who were more troublesome, but they didn't know about her angel-killer sword.

As Thalia waited to see the Yakuza leader, she felt her heart flutter as concern seeped into her mind. She wondered if it was a good idea to ask Ichiro about Ariuk's locket. The least she could do was question him about the pillaging of the grave. What if the leader was not merciful and didn't want to explain himself? It'd leave her right where she currently was, so she breathed out, deciding that whatever happened, it wouldn't set her back too much.

She swallowed back her panic as the other guard returned. He gave his partner the tiniest of nods and opened the door to allow Thalia through. She tossed him a mocking grin, as if to say I told you so. Sometimes her teenage years caught up with her. Though she was now more than twice that age, she was stuck in her seventeen-year-old body forever, and possibly its mind as well, something she'd never admit.

At least they were listening to her now. Maybe this would go more smoothly than she'd anticipated. The guards entered behind her then pushed past. Ignoring the shoves, she followed the guards through a maze of people sitting at tables, eating different kinds of Japanese dishes while listening to a singer belt out her notes in their language. The crowd swung their eyeballs toward Thalia all at once. The music halted momentarily as her presence sucked up the air and chatter in the room until it was almost silent. They all held their breaths simultaneously, hypnotized as they watched her walk through the room.

Thalia straightened, trying to exude a confidence she lacked. She gripped her sword a little tighter under her jacket and wondered if any of the knives Matt had given her would be of use here tonight. The Yakuza had plenty of adept warriors, but she wasn't planning on finding out if they were in the mood to scuffle or not.

As they passed the restaurant and club, the murmur of chatter resumed, muffling as they moved down a narrow hallway. Thalia sucked in a breath, her heart pounding in her ears as they continued, the faint red lights from the wall sconces the only source of illumination. Every few steps, she passed a pair of doors. Anything could be behind them, and anyone could be lurking, ready to jump out at her. She had to be ready.

She'd spent years avoiding the archangels' domains, but now she was knee-deep in the muck and needed to speak to an archangel leader. Maybe he knew something about Ariuk she didn't. Maybe he could tell her more about the locket the demon man had given her. If he had no answers for the questions she sought, what would she do with the artifact?

It angered her that Ereziel had been of no help. She hadn't told him that Ariuk claimed the locket was hers. She had omitted the fact that a stranger with gray angel wings had been watching her. None of it was relevant, not yet. She didn't need Ereziel knowing any of her secrets.

They reached a staircase and descended into the basement of the building. This worried her; there wouldn't be an easy escape if she was attacked. Even though they were only one floor down, making her way out would be more difficult. Why would an archangel situate himself underground, when the safest place for him would be up above, near the roof? Winged creatures liked quick getaways. Maybe he was agoraphobic, she thought, amusing herself with the idea to keep the dread at bay.

Thalia's curiosity was piqued as they entered a different section of the basement. It was another type of club, filled with illegal craps, poker, and blackjack tables. It was obvious who the boss was; no one could miss his glorious presence. He sat in a large corner booth, wearing a brilliant white suit with his equally startling and pristine wings slouched out behind him. As they got closer, the bored look on his face perked up, morphing into a mischievous smile that widened across his face.

Thalia immediately felt his power flow across the room, reaching toward her, soothing her and tempting her to relax. It was a power typical of archangels. They were as deceptive as they were beautiful. They came in all ethnicities, and physically, they seemed perfect in every way. They had been cut off from Heaven when the gates were suddenly closed, centuries before. They'd been on Earth, working for the higher power, but had not been allowed to return home. They had been stranded, left to fend for themselves and make a life among the mortals. Thalia almost didn't blame them for their tendency toward corruption and mischief.

It wasn't ideal, but most of them, like Ichiro, had created a cult following of mortals and immortals alike. Many would gladly give their lives for these higher beings. It made the archangels dangerous in a way she could never be.

Thalia had no such supporters, no crazy fanatics or loyalists. No, she was basically a nobody. Just another immortal throwaway who'd been taken under Ereziel's wing. If she could've been marked and branded like cattle, she probably would've had his mark on her from the beginning. Though he had released her, she might as well be part of his posse, for everybody viewed her as his property.

Everyone in this world belonged to someone; an archangel, an immortal, a demonic possessor, an unnatural creature lurking the Earth. It didn't matter who you were. If you lived in an archangel's territory, they owned you, whether you knew it or not. However, they all had to abide by a predetermined set rules called the Concurrence, a treaty agreed upon by the archangels to minimize territorial disputes. For mercs like Thalia, who worked for but were not bound to an archangel, the agreement protected them from the other archangels if they were questioned for any of their actions.

She hoped the Concurrence would hold as she stepped before the Yakuza leader.

Chapter Ten

"Your Grace, I have the hunter, Thalia, to see you." The guard bowed and took his leave immediately. Ichiro eyed her hungrily from behind a menacing smile. He was genuinely curious about her, since they'd never met, but she could tell her reputation preceded her. The various rumors about her had served her all too well.

"Thalia. Well, well. It's so good to finally meet you. It's been a mighty long time since I've seen Ereziel and his brood. I can see he has been quite busy selecting the perfect specimens for his sect. How is he doing these days?"

Ichiro stood and opened his arms wide as though to give an old friend a tight, satisfying hug. She didn't know what to do so she bowed, as was customary. He immediately dropped his arms, but the apparent disappointment told her he might anger easily. Archangels were touchy-feely to the point of suffocation. Ereziel was an exception, but Thalia had never been so relieved to avoid touching another archangel. Not that he wasn't gorgeous. It was the mere fact of who he was, an ethereal leader whose charms could overcome even the strongest, humans and immortals alike.

The continuing smile on his face told her that he'd expected her. The fool had probably ordered the pillaging of Ariuk's grave just so she would come stumbling in, asking questions. This caused the fear to creep up her spine and neck, sweat beading at her temple and hairline as she swallowed.

"Hello, Your Grace." Thalia addressed Ichiro like royalty. It left a sour taste in her mouth, but that was how most of the archangels wanted to be addressed, according to the Concurrence. "I hate to disturb you, but I must report a pillaging of a grave on hallowed ground, which is not allowed under the contractual agreement between the archangels. Your guards upturned a grave I created for one of my bounties after I killed him. This is forbidden, and I demand retribution."

She sucked in a breath, hoping he hadn't notice the waver in her voice. She glanced around, taking note of the locations of every guard and exit, just in case she had to fight her way out.

Ichiro remained silent. The fake smile on his face faltered ever so slightly, even though the crinkles framing his eyes deepened. He studied her intently. She could imagine the myriad of thoughts running through his head. Whatever rumors he'd heard about her, she wondered if she had lived up to any of them. Some were true, some were fabricated. Unfortunately, Ichiro had an even worse reputation. He treated women as though they were second-class citizens and was a cruel and inflexible ruler.

This didn't bode well for Thalia. At least Ereziel treated women well, for the most part. He did not see them as weaker or lesser creatures, he viewed them as equals. Strong, capable, and fierce. At least he thought of her as the vicious warrior she was and not as a commodity or a thing to be owned. It partly had to do with her status as a traveler, but to imagine Ereziel trying to own her almost made her laugh out loud.

"Well," Ichiro finally said as he reached up and ran a hand through his spiky, jet-black hair. "I believe it was an unmarked grave, dear Thalia, and unmarked graves can be examined for identification purposes." He said the words as though all disputes were now settled. Thalia knew Ariuk had taken up with Ichiro's company, and unfortunately, it was going to complicate things about the key. She had to play ignorant or risk losing the artifact to Ichiro. She frowned as he continued.

"So, you see, my cohorts were within their rights to examine Ariuk's body. They had probable cause, for he was believed to have in his possession something called the key. That suspicion was only recently confirmed, and had he not died, I would have taken it from him, as would have been my right as his patron. You admit you killed him, so one can only assume you now have this... key."

Thalia flinched, but she never let her eyes wander away from him. He probably considered her rude and unschooled, but Ichiro was well versed in the ways of the world. Most archangels were not easily offended. In fact, his facial features smoothed out as he watched her process his answer, looking so much younger than he should.

It was unnerving how they all looked as though they'd barely hit drinking age when they had become frozen in time. It was the same for Thalia. She would appear seventeen for all eternity. She would never grow old; not even a hair would turn gray. At least the archangels had godlike powers and beautiful, bright wings to fly with. The control they could assert over humans and other immortals was terrifying. She had no such advantages.

"A key?" she said, playing dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see any key when I took down Ariuk."

Ichiro laughed, and the entire room fell silent. Some patrons slipped away, quietly knowing there would be violence. She still hoped to keep it at bay.

"You lie, girl. You were seen. You don't know what you're playing at. It is nothing less than a key to Heaven. It is the only key known to open the fourth realm, and everyone you know would kill you to possess it. Give it to me now, and your life will be spared." Ichiro's expression was no longer friendly. In fact, his eyes burned with a menacing fire. Even Thalia felt the heat of those irises, bright with impatience. If she were human, she was certain she'd have been incinerated where she stood.

What was this fourth realm he was talking about? There was no fourth realm. If there was, she'd never heard of it. Ereziel had never mentioned it to her. Thalia scanned her memories but came up with nothing. There was Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and Earth. Was Earth the fourth realm? No, Earth was just Earth. The other realms—well, they were eternal. They were everything which had come before and would remain long after the Earth was a lifeless cinder. So, besides Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, what else could there be? He had to be lying. If there was one more realm, why hadn't all the immortals gone there instead of being stuck on Earth after the closing of Heaven?

"I don't believe you," she stated, feeling her certainty crumble with each passing moment. She hoped he wouldn't keep playing games and waited patiently as the crowd in the room grew thinner and thinner.

Ichiro smiled, knowing full well he had her attention.

"The key leads to the fourth realm, the Skein, a sort of labyrinth-like world. I would've thought you'd know more about that realm since you were born there, but it's obvious your memory does not serve you well. The key can open the portal to the Skein, where there's so much treasure and magic that those cast from Heaven or Hell would love to retreat into its depths, but there's no way in without the key. Portal keys which allow one to leave and return as they wish are rare, even in the Skein Realm. The key Ariuk had belongs to a royal of that side and can also open the gate between Heaven and the Skein. There's only one such key, but first you must enter that realm and find the gate to Heaven. I think Ariuk wanted to try, but he was unable to enter without Skein blood."

Thalia's mouth hung wide open, stunned. What did he mean she was born in the Skein? No, she'd been born here on Earth. She remembered part of her childhood. No one had ever mentioned the Skein or her birthplace being other than Earth. Why was he telling her this mysterious place was her birthplace when it wasn't? What was he up to?

She shook her head. "You're wrong. You're lying."

His scorching eyes flared as a wicked smile graced his lips. The nightmarish persona he'd donned made her skin crawl, and she unconsciously took a step backward. All archangels were corrupt, but Ichiro had to be one of the worst she'd ever seen. Ereziel was saintly compared to this guy, and that realization sat like a rock in her stomach.

The room was three quarters empty now, but the remaining patrons were screaming in fear as Ichiro's inferno grew. A tablecloth near him erupted into flames, turning to ash as the linen curled away. The wood of the table ignited as though it'd been doused with gasoline. The exits were crowded with people trying to run. They were pushing and trampling one another. Thalia's attention was pulled to the main exit as Yakuza henchmen began fighting against a group of black-clad men who'd just entered the basement, tossing several civilians aside. Ichiro's stance wavered as he turned his eyes away from Thalia to observe the new struggle happening behind her.

"Who dares attack my stronghold?" his voice boomed across the room, knocking down the people nearest him. Thalia stumbled back, gasping for air. The others clutched their ears as they attempted to crawl away.

Thalia found herself clasping her ears as well. Ichiro's power was oddly familiar. It was just like the voice that had assaulted her when she'd tracked the figure who'd been watching her. It was the same magic the disembodied voice had used, she was sure of it. Maybe whoever was following her had learned the trick from Ichiro.

He stopped speaking as one of the attackers lunged in his direction, a large blade in hand. Ichiro grabbed the blade, hissing as it made his skin sizzle, and tossed the warrior aside as though he weighed nothing. Ichiro dropped the blade immediately but reached down to pick it up with a napkin he'd snatched off one of the tables.

"Who dares create swords such as these?" He eyed the weapon, narrowing his eyes in disgust. "The metal is enchanted."

Thalia knew who dared. She had to get out of there and warn Matt that his blades had been discovered before Ichiro figured out which blacksmith had forged these forbidden swords.

She crouched, finding it easier to maneuver under the tables than through the spaces between them, where men were fighting. A body came crashing into the one she was currently crouched under. She shoved at the dead black-clad warrior. A throwing star was embedded in his chest. The Yakuza were holding their own, and few could get close to Ichiro. This wasn't the time or place to fight an archangel. Whoever had planned this attack was in serious need of a better strategist.

She got to her feet, bringing her sword out as one of the Yakuza tried to stop her. She swung, shredding his coat, and elbowed him in the jaw hard enough to send him flying backward and into a table. She stalked forward, but one of the black-clad warriors headed her way, a pair of throwing knives in his hands.

Great. Who was Matt selling his wares to? She'd have to make it a point to scold him about the bad company he was keeping. She watched the warrior pull back and toss one her way, which she dodged easily. It wasn't one of Matt's magic throwing knives after all. As she heard it thunk into the wall behind her, she gave him a good, solid kick to the knee cap, sending him crumbling to the floor. She bent down and punched him hard at the jawline, knocking him out before he could recover. She left him lying there and made her way into one of the exit hallways, hoping it also led upstairs, because the one they'd used to enter was full of fighters and fleeing patrons. Some of the civilians were fighting back in their suits and ties, but most were hiding under tables while others were screaming and trying to escape. A few unfortunates were lying on the floor, knocked out or dead.

Thalia shook her head. This wasn't how she'd planned her meeting with Ichiro, but hey, she couldn't prepare for everything, right? She hopped up a flight of stairs and reached the landing just as a Yakuza came down, blocking her way. He was thin, and part of his face was covered with a face mask. He was also dressed all in black, but he wasn't part of the invading gang. This one was all Yakuza, down to his jet black, spiky hair and the tiny dragon tattoos on his bare hands. He even had Ichiro's insignia embroidered on the cloth over his chest.

"You can't leave, Miss Thalia. Ichiro is not done with you."

"I'm done with him. He has no right to detain me," she snapped, bending her knees and tightly gripping the hilt of her sword. She didn't need an angel-killer to off this one; he was mortal.

The warrior's eyes narrowed. He glanced behind her, toward the edge of the casino floor. Flicking his eyes back to her, he nodded, bowed, and then ran back upstairs.

What had that been about? Thalia scratched her head but didn't wait to follow behind him, up onto the first floor where patrons were sitting in the restaurant, looking bewildered. Some were still seated, frozen in place by shock. The smarter ones had left their tables to join the exodus. A haughty few were complaining about not being able to finish their meals. Well, some people had real problems, didn't they? Thalia sighed as she headed straight through the front door and out into the open air, never more relieved to be above ground.

Once out of sight of the restaurant, she checked herself for injuries. Luckily, the warriors with the angel-killer swords weren't accustomed to their new weapons. They just couldn't wait to try out their new hardware, could they? Thalia chuckled, glad she'd escaped Ichiro's clutches before having to lose a fight she couldn't win. He had another thing coming if he thought she'd ever willingly give him the locket. Delusional. Regardless, he could make her. A prison of Ichiro's would've been the worst place to end up, and she wasn't sure anyone would be able to get her out of that.

As she made her way down the street, she wondered if the person who'd watched her would be back. She hoped not. Her bones screamed for sleep, and she'd been left with far more questions than answers. It'd been too long since she'd had any rest, and any more interruptions would wreak havoc on her mind and body.

Ereziel had some explaining to do about the fourth realm, her heritage, maybe even about the locket, but in the meantime, she had more important things to do. She passed the street that would take her back to her apartment and bed, but it was not yet time to sleep. She had to warn Matt.

Chapter Eleven

Matt's shop was oddly busy, with flames sparking and crackling in the forges. He wasn't anywhere to be found again, unsurprisingly. Thalia glanced around, noting the piles of new weapons sitting atop one of the tables, where the finished blades went. He hadn't had those out in the open the last time she'd visited.

The bastard was making a business of this angel-killing metal. Wherever he'd found the recipe to create them, they were obviously in high demand. He should be aware of the dangers he'd put himself in. There wasn't an angel or archangel in the city who would allow such forbidden weapons to be forged. It would only cause disputes which could lead to an all-out war. That couldn't happen.

"Matt!" she called out, her voice loud in the echoing workshop. The heat contrasted to the chill she'd just come in from, but it did nothing to warm her frigid soul and ease her panic. "Matt, are you here?"

Please be here. Please be okay.

He emerged from the back room, this time with a different girl at his side.

"Thalia?" He glanced at the girl giggling beside him, tugging on his arm, and had enough sense to look embarrassed. "Twice in two days. How lucky can I be?"

"Seriously, Matt. Who else have you been selling these angel-killer swords to? I just got in a scuffle with the Yakuza and their adversaries"—she pointed to the pile of swords lying on the table—"who were equipped with your blades. Tell me you're not selling them to the wrong type of people." She fought back the urge to punch him in the nose. Lord knew he deserved it, looking like a man-whore standing next to Long Legs Louise. Thalia crossed her arms and ignored the girl as he shushed her.

"You better take off," he whispered to the girl. "I've got business to take care of. I'll call you."

The girl smiled, her eyes hooded. This made Thalia roll hers as she tapped her foot. The girl threw her a disgusted frown before donning her coat and sashaying out the door.

"Matt, the Yakuza will hang you for making these blades. Ichiro... it won't take long for him to discover who's behind them. I come here to warn you, and you're making more of them and jerking around with some two-bit girl."

"Relax, Gigi isn't some two-bit girl. I've known her since we were like five. Old neighbors. About the swords... look, I know I should have told you I'd made more than one, but I wouldn't sell them to anyone if I didn't have assurances of my own." He paused, throwing her a disappointed look. "Seriously, Thalia. You don't really know me, do you?"

"Assurances? What sort of assurances? The Yakuza don't mess around. They will come looking for you soon. It won't take them long to find the most gifted blacksmith this side of the Mississippi."

"I know. I want them to." Matt's serious expression made her stiffen.

"You want to die and start a war with the archangels? It won't just be Ichiro coming for you." Thalia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he have a death wish? Had he breathed in too many fumes from the fires? He had to be kidding, right?

"Let them come. I've had enough of their control over the city, over the world. They're not gods, and they shouldn't act like they are. They need a helping of humble pudding, if you ask me, and I'm the one who can give it to them."

"By selling forbidden blades to everyone?"

He shrugged. "I sold one to you, didn't I?"

"I'm not using it to attack archangels."

"You would, though, if you had to."

"Matt!" Thalia didn't know what else to say.

Finally, a smile broke through the strained features of his face. "So, the infamous merc, Thalia Brennan, has a soft spot for this old blacksmith?"

She groaned. "Come on. I'm not kidding. They'll kill you, and there's nothing I can do about it. I risk my own fate carrying this sword. It's just for protection."

"Protection? It's an angel-killer. Just who do you think you need protection from? Think about it, Thalia. It's they who are the enemy. I'm not in the wrong here."

"I didn't say I didn't agree with you, but you're asking for war. I can't have that happen here."

"So where can you have it happen? Where can we balance the scales of power again? In China? Give me a break."

Thalia pressed her lips tight, done with the argument. "We have to go."

Matt began to douse the fires in the forges, extinguishing the flames one by one until smoke filled the room. He grabbed a thick duffle bag and gathered the finished blades. He stuffed the bag with them then zipped it up and held up a hand.

"I just need to get one more thing," he said, making his way to the back room.

"We have to go. Now. They'll come here first, I can promise you that."

"Where are we going to hide?" he called from the other room. "New York is pretty damn big, but not that big. Not big enough to escape a legion of angels and archangels."

"We're not staying in the city," she mumbled. She'd prepared a sanctuary to run to, just in case. She never imagined she'd be taking someone with her, but it was what it was.

"We're not? Where should we go?"

"My childhood home. One of them, at least. The one no one knows about."

"What? Where's that?"

Providence. Where some of her happiest times of her life had occurred. They'd been cut short, but she remembered that place as a safe harbor. "Back home. Providence."

"Providence, Rhode Island?"

"No. It's the name of an old farm deep in the woods. No one will find us there."

"Wow, back home. So, I get to meet the parents?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know I have none. It's just a place I've kept up without telling anyone."

Matt reemerged from the back room. He'd donned a jacket over a clean set of clothes. His trucker hat looked worn and faded, but she'd never seen him wear it.

"Did you tell Ereziel about it?"

She shook her head softly. "No. Not even Ereziel knows about it."

"Wow. I would've thought he knew everything about you."

Watching the fire spark in those deep brown eyes, Thalia felt her stomach swimming. "There are things no one knows about me." Swallowing down the apprehension sticking in her throat, she turned and headed toward the doorway. She suddenly found herself on the ground, with a massive figure above her. He held a knife in one hand and was dressed in black. The Yakuza's symbol was embroidered onto the front of his uniform in blood red.

"Matt, run!"

She managed to wiggle a knife out of her belt and flicked it into the guy's chest. Another knife flew past her shoulder and embedded itself next to hers. The thug fell forward onto her.

"What the...?" She shoved the guy's weight off and rolled away before jumping to her feet. She glanced up to find the ninja from the Yakuza's club. Had he followed her there? Shoot, she'd put Matt at risk by coming to warn him.

"Run," the stranger said. "Now." He threw her a curt nod before engaging a second attacker who'd come in behind the first.

She nodded back, not waiting to find out why this warrior was now on her side instead of Ichiro's. Who knew what was going on over there? There very well could be a coup going on in the Yakuza's ranks. Or this guy was a rogue ninja. She wasn't sure, but if he'd worked for Ichiro before, his allegiances had now changed.

She grabbed Matt, who'd managed to scramble to grab his duffle bag and backpack and catch up with her. They made it out of the building without further attacks. After they'd traveled several blocks, she changed directions and led him on a winding course toward the rented garage where she kept her car. Once they were inside, she closed the door most of the way but knelt down to peer out through the crack and make sure they hadn't been followed.

"Who was that guy? A friend of yours?"

"Definitely not."

"What about the other guys?"

"Yakuza. They all were. I don't know who our 'friend' is or why he's helping us, but don't be fooled, he's also Yakuza."

Matt tightened his frown as his thoughts darkened his face. "This is my fault. I got cocky. The witch who sold me the spell also gave me one for protection to keep others from discovering who made the blades. She said it might or might not work. I guess we know the answer to that one."

Thalia groaned. "Wow, for such a powerful witch, she sure fouled up an important spell."

"Well, she said that's the price of magic. One spell would work, one might not, and I'd better hope it was the right one. I was just happy the one to make the blades worked. I didn't think—"

"You don't think about the future, do you?" she snapped. "Not that there might be people coming after you for what you made. Angel-killer blades are serious business. All the angels might come after you. None of them want to know they're vulnerable."

His frown tightened even more, and she immediately regretted her harsh words, but she couldn't take them back.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just... I wouldn't be able to stand it if they hurt you. I had to warn you." She sighed and made her way to the car. The old man she rented the space from suspected she was not of this world. At least, she knew he had his theories about her. Some humans were perceptive. They were the ones she had to watch out for. The paranoid people were the most dangerous.

Matt said nothing. Maybe he was mad at her, but there was no time to deal with that right now. They had to get out of town and disappear. Maybe while they were gone, things would cool off with the Yakuza.

"Get in," she said. "We need to flee the city before the angels find us."

Chapter Twelve

Thalia shifted in the driver's seat, grimacing as she changed positions. She reached into the side of her jacket and pressed her hand against her ribs. Warmth and wetness met her fingers, and she withdrew her blood-stained hand and held it out in front of her. She'd let the warrior with the knife nick her side when he'd knocked her down, but so far, the adrenaline and her hard-earned ability to ignore pain had kept her going. But now the wound was demanding attention.

She glanced over at Matt. He was fast asleep in the passenger side, as he'd been most of the trip. She imagined he'd been working on those blades a lot lately and hadn't gotten much sleep. Judging by the weight of the bag in the backseat, she was sure this was the case. He'd worked overtime to make as many of those weapons as he could. Nevertheless, it had cost him his peaceful life. She hoped it had been worth it.

They were hours out of the city and were now driving through the darkness, to her hidden sanctuary. Luckily, there were medical supplies there she could use on her wound. She wondered if she could drive the whole way without losing too much blood.

"You got hurt, didn't you?" Matt stated, causing her to jump. She squeezed her fingers on the steering wheel to keep it straight, knowing her facial expressions were giving away her pain. It was just a small nick, but it throbbed like crazy. She threw another glance his way. He'd spoken, but his eyes remained closed.

"I thought you were sleeping," she muttered, keeping her eyes on the road. This late at night, the lack of traffic seemed strange, but at least there was no one nearby to bother them.

Matt yawned and stretched. His body was too big to stretch all the way out, but he made due. His joints popped as he strained his back and rolled his shoulders.

"I wondered if you were injured, but you acted as though nothing was wrong. You rarely ever complain unless something is seriously wrong, and I heard you grunt a couple times while you were driving."

He nodded toward her blood-stained hand on the steering wheel, which she promptly wiped on her jeans. She was going to have to do some laundry when she got to the Providence property. Luckily, it was equipped with every modern amenity one could need plus an emergency supply of food, clothes, and medical items. As a bonus, it had the biggest advantage of all: privacy.

"We're close to where we're going, but honestly, I think I need to wrap this up and take a pain pill." She pulled the car over to the shoulder and hopped out, wincing. Her body protested at every movement, reminding her of the ordeal of the past few days. In the back of the car were duffel bags of emergency supplies and weapons. She reached for a first aid kit.

Once she'd found what she needed, she zipped up the duffel bag and made her way back to the front. Matt had gotten out of the passenger side and had already hopped into the driver's seat. She got back in and began to work on the wound, cleaning it before dressing it with a thick bandage. She was struggling to do it all by herself. Matt watched her and shook his head. He knew she'd hate it, but before he started the engine, he reached over and helped her tape the back of the dressing until it stayed put. She bit her tongue as a protest tried its best to slip out. Honestly, she was grateful he was with her. There was nothing worse than being alone while injured.

Her shirt was ruined, and her jeans were drenched at the waist with sticky blood. She probably needed to shower before she could change the bandages again.

"You know you could have just asked me to help you do that," he said, pulling the car back out onto the road. "Why is it always so hard for you to ask for help?"

She started to laugh, but it made her side scream in pain. She stopped immediately, ripped open the small packet containing the pain killers, and swallowed them down.

"You, first of all, you don't know who I am. You think you know what my day-to-day life is about, but you don't. I never ask for help. It just isn't in my personality. Second, did it ever occur to you that I don't really need any help? You just make my weapons, and that's pretty much it. You don't know anything else about me. Not really."

Matt sucked in a sharp breath as he flinched from her acidic words. He couldn't deny any of it. She felt bad for snapping at him, but she seemed to do it every time they spoke. She couldn't help it. For whatever reason, he pushed her buttons. They truly didn't know each other at all. Why had she ever thought they were compatible? She had to admit that he was handsome, and he probably thought she was cute too, but that only went so far. One didn't build a relationship on looks alone.

Love is difficult when there are angels and demons chasing you. With such a thin line between sanity and chaos, happiness wasn't an option. These fine lines, which she'd carefully avoided her entire life, were becoming blurred. She didn't know who she truly was, where she'd come from, or what she ultimately wanted from her immortal life.

She slipped a hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the locket, which shined silver under the scant moonlight. Running a finger over the intricate designs carved into the metal, she admired its handiwork for a moment before tucking it back into her pocket once more.

Matt didn't look like he had noticed. It was probably for the best. She didn't need any more questions about any locket, or key, or the Skein. She wanted to know more about them, but there didn't seem to be anyone who could help.

Maybe Ereziel could, but he was out of the picture for now. She couldn't go to him, not without risking exposure. More than likely, the Yakuza had already paid him a visit.

The silence was terrible as Matt brought the car up to speed and set the cruise control. "So, where to?" The warmth had drained from his voice, leaving him sounding cold and impersonal.

"Just keep going straight. In about ten miles, we're going to pass through a small town. After that, you're going to see a road come up quick on the right; it's unmarked. Turn right onto it, and then we'll follow it for about four miles before it forks. There, we go right again, deep into a forest until it clears up, straight into Providence."

Matt wrinkled his eyebrows.

"And you said Providence is a farm?" he asked.

"Yes. It's the farm I grew up on. Well, I didn't technically live there long. My parents lived there at one point because they worked for the landowner. But it's the one place where I can remember being happy. After I discovered who my parents were, some of the memories came rushing back. I went looking for this place after I visited their graves. I never told Ereziel about it; we weren't speaking at the time."

Matt appeared surprised. "You and Ereziel didn't always get along?"

She shook her head. "No. We had a falling out years ago, and I avoided him as best I could at that time. When I found Providence again, it was still intact but run down, and the owners were looking for money, so I bought it off them. I spent years restoring it, turning it into my own little fortress. I have a caretaker who takes good care of the place for me, with no questions asked. I think he suspects I'm an immortal. His parents were the previous caretakers, and he took over when they died. I basically moved the contract to him and acted as though I'd just bought the place just so I could show up and check it out. I think he knows about me, but it doesn't truly matter to him."

"So, the demon killer has a place of her own, far from prying eyes." Matt chuckled as she threw him a wry look. "What about the flyers? Do any angels know where you live?"

She shook her head. "No. I've never seen angels fly over this place. That's why it was so appealing to me in the first place. It's remote and secure. Plus, no one can really see in through the windows; they're one-way mirrors. I've also set up surveillance cameras for miles around. We'd have plenty of time to hide or run if there was someone coming. Luckily, this place is out of the way. Most angels stick to the cities where there's luxury and mortal sin to partake in. They don't like rural areas."

"Ain't that the truth," Matt laughed.

When she didn't laugh or smile in reply, he fell silent until they passed the town she had mentioned. He took the turn she'd indicated and continued to drive down a dirt road full of bumps and craters. It wasn't well-maintained on purpose, which kept a lot of trespassers at bay.

Thalia hadn't told anyone else about her fortress. Could she trust Matt? Not that she had anything against him; it was just the reality of it all. Just how well did she know him?

"So, what about you, Matt? You got any secrets that I should know about? Since we're going to be roommates for a bit, we might want to get to know each other better so we can figure out what best to do." She closed her eyes, the painkillers barely touching the throbbing ache on her side. The knife had probably nicked a rib or muscle, or it wouldn't be hurting as badly.

"Well, I'm pretty much an open book, but I do have one secret you might be interested in."

She lifted an eyebrow, opened one eye, and glanced his way. "Oh? What's that?"

"Remember when I told you a witch gave me the recipe to make the special metal for the angel-killer blades?"

She nodded.

"That's not exactly true. There was a witch, yes, but she's more of a spellcaster than a witch. Also, she was my mother, and she didn't tell me anything about this spell. I learned it from her journals after she passed away. I found them stuffed into a crevice in the apartment above the forge. The building has been in the family for decades, but after my father died, we stayed and lived there until she died. She buried her journals in the walls. I guess she didn't want anyone to know about them, but I discovered them when I expanded the apartment and knocked down the wall where she'd chosen to conceal them.

"Once I figured out the recipe to enchant the metal, it took me several tries to get it right. Once I folded the steel just so, well, I was able to make the angel-killer swords dipped in the concoction my mother had written about. I was working on a spell to keep my enemies from finding me, but apparently, my first attempt failed in a big way. I'm not a warlock. Heck, I'm not even close to being a witch or spellcaster. I'm just a regular guy, a mortal fooling with powerful magic that shouldn't be used. I just wanted to help keep humans safe, and I'm good with metals, so...." He shrugged.

"You thought you'd give humans a weapon that works against immortals."

He nodded, scratching his short brown hair. He kept it just longer than a buzz.

His story made sense. She wondered what other secrets he held, but it was good he'd trusted her with this information. It made her feel a lot more comfortable around him, a lot more like friends. Maybe this getaway would be a good thing for them, a chance to develop their friendship. The idea of getting to know Matt better grew on her, and she smiled to herself. Spending a few days at Providence would be good for her soul and, if she was lucky, her heart.

Matt turned the car down the last turn off and cruised through the woods, deep into the forest, where the road was almost overgrown with vegetation. At last, they reached a clearing. The farmhouse stood on a slight rise, the lights on, warm and welcoming. The caretaker was not there; he came about once a month to check on the place and keep things stocked. Otherwise, everything was automated so people would think somebody was living in there, recluse or not. The place did look lived in and well kept. Thalia couldn't wait to lie down in her bed and get some much-needed rest in a place where she felt secure.

Safety was not a luxury she was often given.

Chapter Thirteen

"Who did you say takes care of this place when you're not here?" Matt asked.

Thalia always carried a key to the Providence house on her person and had just opened the door and walked into a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Shutting and locking it behind them, she faced Matt before dropping her bags of supplies. She carried only a light one since Matt had taken the other one along with his own duffel bags of supplies and weaponry. Her injured side was killing her.

"A man named Paul has been the caretaker since he was in his fifties. He's older now, and I'm sure he has figured out that I'm immortal, though I have changed the name on the house deed at least twice."

Matt's eyes widened, impressed. "Wow. I guess he doesn't mind working for immortals." He scanned the foyer, his eyes landing on the stairs and the two areas off each side of the stairwell. "This place is nice."

"He's got a budget for repairs or any extra help he might need. He also gets a rotating housekeeping staff to keep it dust free and well-stocked. When I'm not here, what he says, goes. I do let him know when I'm going to stay here for a period of time so he doesn't bother me. I texted him while you were asleep in the car and asked him to get things ready. But it's been a while since I've returned. He's probably wondering what's going on."

Matt listened quietly as she relayed the information, glancing into the sitting room to the left, where a large fire was roaring. Beyond it was a dining room, where food had already been set out for dinner.

"How long do you think we'll need to hide out here?"

"One sec, let me get my phone, and maybe we'll be able to figure that out." She fished it out of her pocket, tapped on it for a few moments, then handed it to Matt. He stared intently at the live streaming video.

"Is that my—?"

Thalia took the phone back. "Yes. That's the forge." She clicked the phone screen off, not wanting to watch the fire blazing at Matt's forge. "They destroyed it for creating the angel-killers. I told you they'd come after you. I'm so sorry, Matt. I hope you grabbed everything you needed."

He nodded slowly as the shock passed across his face. It told her he'd been smart enough to grab everything of value, but the whole place had been of value to him, and seeing it burn was probably more than he had expected.

"How did you know they were going to do that?" He glanced up at her, looking sick with grief. "How did you know they were going to come after me?"

She hoped he wasn't getting paranoid. She'd already told him how she'd known, but apparently, the shock of it all had caused him to forget her words.

"I told you, the warriors who attacked the Yakuza were clumsy with your weapons, and the archangel, Ichiro, noticed how the blades burned him when he touched them. You're the best blacksmith in New York City... of course they would be coming after you. I'm sure you weren't the only blacksmith to suffer these consequences, though. They probably went after several of them just in case it was more than one of your profession developing these weapons. I feel bad for anyone else caught in the crossfire, but you're the only one I could save."

The only one she'd wanted to save. She looked away while making her way farther into the house.

When she finally glanced back at Matt, he remained pale, but color was already returning to his cheeks. He walked into the living room and slumped down into one of the chairs, staring at the flames with the suppressed bitterness of an old, jaded man.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I really am. But it's better if we stay here for a little while, where it's safe. No one knows I own it, not even Ereziel, who's pretty much been my sponsor."

"Do you always keep secrets from those who have helped you?" Matt asked.

His words stung. She knew he was wondering if he could trust her to be under the same roof as him. How could anyone be safe from an archangel? They seemed all-knowing, and yet there were often things which caught them off guard. She knew this better than anyone, for she had lived with one. She had loved one intensely and had been up close and personal. Maybe Matt didn't need to know this to trust her, but as they sat and stared at the flames, she knew there was still some trust to be earned on both sides.

"It wasn't intentional, but I had to keep myself safe. I have no way of knowing who killed my family—who killed me, when I was human. It could've been an archangel, an angel, or demons. Who knows? All I really know is that I'm trying to find my way back to Purgatory from where I might be able to pass through the gate to Heaven and be with my family again. That's my only goal, and that's why I made this sanctuary away from everything. Nobody can trace it back to me. In my line of work, you must have a backup plan. This is it." She waved a hand around, wincing as a stab of pain hit her from her wound. Whatever had been on that blade wasn't letting the cut heal correctly. She'd have to clean it, add some salve, and hope for the best.

Matt glanced her way, looking calmer. He even followed her into the dining room when she suggested they get a bite of food before cleaning up. The food was already laid out, hot and ready, but growing colder by the second. The cooks and servants must have left it ready at Paul's instructions and left the house right before they arrived.

"You have to make sure there's nothing lodged in there," Matt said. "You're not looking so hot." He picked up a turkey sandwich and began chewing.

She agreed, eating slowly, for breathing was difficult with the injury. It was probably the bruising which was the worst part. The bleeding had nearly stopped—it was only slightly seeping—but she was sure there was nothing lodged in the wound. It was far from mortal. She was lucky that she healed more quickly than humans, but it was nothing compared to the angels. They could heal themselves instantaneously, just as Ichiro had done with the angel-killing blade. Even though the spell on the blade could kill a regular angel, it had only burned Ichiro. By now, his wounds would be completely gone, as though nothing had ever happened.

She watched Matt as he finished his dinner. He offered to clean the plates off the table and took them to the sink to scrub them. He seemed to know full well there would be no housekeepers coming while they were there.

Matt returned and crossed into the living room. He grabbed one of his bags, came back with it, and plopped it onto the table. He pulled out a small, well-used, leather-bound journal and flipped it open.

He looked up and eyed her with concern, for she had barely moved for the past several minutes. "Hey, you want me to check the wound? Then you can shower and change. Your clothes are nearly ruined."

She nodded and pointed to the bag of first aid supplies by the door. "I need to clean it then put some Esther salve in the wound."

"What's that?" He retrieved the bag from its spot and placed it on the table in front of her.

"It's a medicinal salve made from the rachis of angel feathers. The feathers have healing properties, but the salve is rare since it takes a full feather to make it. Not many angels give up their feathers for healing salves, as you can imagine, so I don't like to use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

He looked impressed. "But you got hold of some. How?"

"Ereziel requires any angels under his command to donate feathers once a year, after they molt. It's not so painful to harvest feathers that are already loose."

"Wow, an archangel who's concerned about injuries among his servants. How noble."

She frowned at the distaste in his voice. It was obvious archangels weren't at the top of his list.

Thalia cleaned the wound and placed the salve on it, hissing at the initial sting of the medicine but sighing as it numbed the pain. She didn't like using the salve much; like she had said, it was rare and should only be used sparingly.

Once finished, she waited for the wound and salve to fuse, letting the air hit her skin by tying her ruined shirt just above the wound. It exposed her stomach and back, and she caught Matt running his eyes over her skin before he averted them back to the journal, clearing his throat. She leaned forward, studying the pages to keep from looking at his reddening face.

The handwriting on the pages was in neat cursive. There were many drawings accompanying the text, along with words that looked to be written in Latin. It piqued her curiosity, and she couldn't help but to inquire about them.

"Your mother... she had nice handwriting."

"Yeah. She taught me how to read Latin too, which I always complained was a useless skill. I'm eating my words now."

"These both belonged to her?" She waved a hand over the two journals.

"Yep. It's all I have left of her. A lot of her family heirloom stuff was destroyed in the Salem witch trials. Her great-great-grandmother was almost killed during that time, but she escaped the clutches of those treacherous men trying her for witchcraft.

"Ever since, her family has kept journals. They've all been hidden, and I only found my mother's. She wrote about the other journals, but I haven't been able to locate them. She never even told me about hers on her deathbed. I was able to read through some of her spells, but it's hard to decipher. She had some sort of key to keep it encrypted, and I've only decoded half of it."

"Why would she not tell you about them? She was obviously told of the other journals by her mother."

Matt smiled sadly. "Only female heirs carry the gene for witchcraft. It remains latent in male heirs for some reason. Without a daughter to hand the craft down to, there was no reason to tell her son about her magical history."

That was terrible, Thalia thought. Matt would have made an excellent witch.

"How did your mother get a spell to enchant blades to kill angels? Can anyone use it?"

He shrugged. "There's a lot I don't know about my mother and her spells. She kept her magical abilities from me since mine are dormant. I took after my very human father; just a plain old blacksmith with no magic. I did find out something about the spell to enchant the blades... you don't exactly need to be a witch to use it. Most of it is just natural magic that can be put together from things found in the earth. It just takes the right words and the right mix, and you can make an angel-killer sword. But there was one special thing that keeps just anyone from making them."

"What's that?"

Matt rolled up his sleeve to show her a recent cut on his forearm. It was deep and obviously self-inflicted. He had stitched it back up himself but done a poor job of it. It would leave a scar forever. Her eyes widened as understanding hit her.

"Your blood? The key to making an angel-killer sword... it needs your blood, doesn't it? That's why it's specific to you. But there are other witches in the world. Couldn't they make the angel-killer swords too?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "It won't work with another witch's blood. I know; I tried. Bought some blood off a witch who was very suspicious about it, but she needed the money. Somehow, this spell was tied to my bloodline and only works with my blood. That's how I knew I might have latent magic. It might never manifest since I'm a man, but it runs in my blood. If I have kids, it could resurface. It's a simple recipe, but it was used in the days of the Egyptian pharaohs."

"How so?"

"The solution mixed with my blood is called Qere. It's an essence the embalmers used to pump into corpses to create a pleasant aroma. It is said to be lethal to all those of Nephilim heritage."

"Angels?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's lethal to angels and their offspring."

"That's amazing." She couldn't look away from him. The stories grasped at her mind like a movie reel playing across a screen. When she realized she'd been staring, she had to snap her eyes away to the fireplace. Glancing his way once more, she found him peering up at her, his eyes softening. Something burned within them, and his sorrow was now long gone.

Her insides warmed with his gaze on her, but she couldn't hold it and had to once again move her eyes away. She focused on the flames, letting the warmth seep into her bones. Matt was part of the supernatural world and far from being the pure-blooded human she'd thought him to be. How deliciously odd they would be in this situation together. She almost wanted to laugh out loud but knew it was not the right moment.

She had heard of spells like this before, tied to a bloodline of witches or spellcasters. This spell could kill angels and hurt archangels. Nothing else in history had proven to work that well against them. It made Matt special, dangerous even. His blood would be sought if this information ever found its way out. It was just a matter of time before he was hunted down for his powers.

Thalia faced Matt, a stab of fear for his safety growing where the warmth in her belly had once sat. He continued reading the journal, bringing it up from his lap to flip through more pages, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes intently staring at the words.

What was so special about his lineage that only his blood could kill angels?

"Why can't another witch's blood do this? Why just yours? If it worked for the ancient pharaohs, why wouldn't it work for another witch?"

Knowing what it was about his linage that made the magic work was the most important thing right now. If they knew why, maybe they could better protect themselves.

He did not respond, and from the look on his face, she realized he knew the answer to that question. Was he going to tell her or not? Either way, she would have to protect him, and he would need to learn to protect himself. Magic blood was useless if it didn't keep him safe.

"My mother," he finally said, "wrote in her journal that she is the descendent of an archangel. It's been centuries since that union, and our Nephilim blood has been diluted, but somewhere in our lineage is archangel blood, and it gives us the power to make blades which can hurt celestial beings. My theory is that one of our direct ancestor's blood was used to make Qere for the pharaohs. The recipe has since been lost. My mother even wondered if it was possible that our linage was connected to Jesus, the son of God. But it's all speculation, of course. Could he have gotten anyone pregnant while he was here on Earth? I really don't know, and neither did she, but somehow, we have a direct line to the Lord above. It's the only way our blood could have enough magic to destroy an angel."

"Wow, that's some speculation. But even if you're only a descendent of an archangel, you might have that kind of power. Either way, you're going to have to learn to protect yourself better than you do now."

Matt threw her a half smile. "Are you going to teach me? I've sparred with your already. I think I'm pretty adept at sword fighting."

Thalia shook her head, frowning at his pompous attitude. He thought he was adept? She would have to prove him so very wrong. The funny part was, she would enjoy doing it.

"You're pretty pretentious, thinking you're that good. I was taking it easy with you whenever we sparred because I believed you to be a weak, mortal human. Now that I know better, maybe I'll let you see what I can really do. But you have a lot to learn before that. Trust me, you'll thank me for this later."

Matt's smile dropped. "Okay. I guess I won't take it easy either. Trust me... you're going to eat your words."

Chapter Fourteen

"That locket you had earlier... where did you get it?" Matt asked.

Surprised, Thalia looked up from what she'd been reading, an old text about legends of angels and demons.

"You saw that?"

"Of course, I did. Though I admit you did your best to hide it from me. So what's so special about it?"

She pressed her lips together, afraid of what to say. She didn't know why talking to Matt felt so intimate at times. Every time he asked her something private, it was like he poked a hole through her soul to peer inside. Maybe she just wasn't used to it and didn't want to give up the well-built wall she'd erected around herself. A solitary life would do that.

"Well, let's see." She plucked the locket from her jacket and placed it in front of Matt. Might as well put everything on the table. He was technically the only one she could trust, and this was a huge step in that direction.

Matt picked up the locket and dangled it from his fingers. He studied the engraved metal, his eyes pensive. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about it until he attempted to pry it open, and it refused.

"This is a locket, right? Why doesn't it open?"

"I don't know. I tried to open it too, but it must be fused shut."

He narrowed his eyes and held the locket up so it could catch more light. "Do you know what these markings are? It's odd... they look a lot like some of the drawings in my mother's journals." He replaced the locket on the table before reaching over to scoop up one of the journals. Thalia scooted her chair closer, peering down at the locket and then the pages he'd flipped open to study.

"Why would it not open? Who would fuse it shut?" he asked.

"It's never opened for me. The only thing I know about it is that everyone keeps calling it some sort of key, and Ichiro said it's supposed to open a gate to Heaven from a different realm called the Skein. He said it's a labyrinth type of world."

"I thought you can only get into Heaven through Purgatory," Matt said, puzzled.

"That's what I thought until a guy I killed named Ariuk gave me this locket and told me it was from another realm. He claimed it belonged to me, so I should have it. I thought he was just delirious with pain. I had chopped off his hand."

Matt made a face.

"After that," she continued, ignoring his expression, "when I asked Ichiro about pillaging Ariuk's grave, he confirmed there was another realm and that the locket was a key to both enter it and open a gate rumored to exist inside the Skein Realm... a gate which leads directly to Heaven. The only thing is, I've never heard of the Skein Realm. Ichiro said I was born there, but why should I believe him? Especially when Ereziel never told me about this, and out of everyone on this Earth, you'd think he'd know something about it. Or at least acknowledge the realm's existence. I'm a mercenary; I need to know about all the hiding places."

Matt nodded, agreeing. "Well, you said so yourself that you can't trust him with everything." He glanced around the room. "Like this hideaway of yours."

That was true. Everyone needed to keep their secrets. She wondered if it was foolish of her to not include Ereziel in all this. She doubted he would have given her any kind of new information about the locket or the Skein. There were things about Ereziel she'd never know, even after spending decades at his side.

"I just can't believe he'd withhold so much information about my heritage from me. Why would Ereziel do that?"

"He probably wanted some sort of reassurance."

"For what?" Thalia looked shocked. "Against me?"

"Reassurance that he can keep you under control."

Thalia's mouth felt dry as frustration ate away at her. How could she trust any archangel when she had one coming after her and another one lying through his teeth about her past? One of them wanted to assassinate Matt, one of her only friends, and the other wanted to make her his concubine. She looked at the pages of the journal then glanced back at the locket on the table next to it. It was beautiful but inert, as though it had no magic of its own. She didn't know how old it was, but it looked untouched by time. Was it a fake? Or had some made-up story been attached to it?

"I found it!" Matt exclaimed. "Mom wrote about these designs in her journal, and they match the ones on the locket perfectly. She said her mother told her about them, and it was her mother who drew these and explained what each one was. She said her mother studied and searched for this legendary key her entire life but never told my mother why. Grandma acted crazy whenever she talked about it, like she was possessed and driven to find it. Or cursed."

"What about your mother? Did she know what the inscriptions meant? Was she driven mad to search for it?" Thalia's words hung in the air, full of need and curiosity. This mystery only got deeper and more complicated the more they discovered. There were fleeting moments when she wished Ariuk had never given her the damned thing. It might've been better if she'd just buried it with him. She'd at least have one more soul in her cache to present to Purgatory.

"I think the locket originated in Heaven. Or Hell... I'm not quite sure. But from the symbols, they do kind of relate to some ancient language... Sanskrit? Maybe Sumerian, but I'm no expert. I'm not too sure, but if I was to guess what they say, this one means a division or fraction. Between Heaven and Earth, maybe? This one is the symbol for labyrinth, and these of angels and demonic beings. And that one... I think it's Earth as well. Right?" He peered up at Thalia, who was engrossed in his evaluation and knowledge of ancient, dead languages. Impressive.

"Yes. Maybe these symbols don't mean anything at all. What's weird is that your mother writes that no one's ever been there, and nobody has come out. So how do they even know about this Skein Realm? Maybe it doesn't exist." Thalia was tempted to think this was all a lie, but from what they'd found so far, it didn't seem to be the case. Still, it was prudent to remain objective.

She felt Matt's eyes on her and glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. It sent liquid fire trailing down her middle, heating her cheeks as her breath hitched. How could he do that with just a look? The silence felt unbearable. There was nothing there yet. Yet. But there were possibilities, especially as the night wore on.

A knock on the door startled them both, and they ripped their eyes away from each other and stared at the door. Another knock resounded before Thalia headed toward the entrance and peeked through the eyepiece.

She glanced back at Matt, telling him with a look that she knew who was on the other side of the thick, wooden door. Her excitement was gone, now replaced with suspicion and fear.

Chapter Fifteen

Thalia opened the door and peered out through the crack, paling. "Paul, hello. I wasn't expecting you. Is everything all right?"

She hoped she hadn't offended the old caretaker for taking so long to answer. He wouldn't have come while she was at the property if it wasn't extremely urgent. He held out a bag, which she accepted. She hesitantly peeked inside.

She gasped. There were artifacts just like the locket inside the bag. "What's this?" She glanced up, her throat growing dryer with each second.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Thalia, but I uncovered these recently from the basement, deep inside the walls, when we had to reinforce the joists and support beams. It was inside a sealed wooden box, encrusted with sand and lined with lacquer to prevent damage from moisture. Well preserved. I didn't want to leave it here, for in my absence, somebody might've taken it. It's full of celestial artifacts which belong to your family."

He diverted his eyes to the ground as though looking her directly in the eyes would offend her. She bent her head down to look inside the bag once more... a bag untouched by time and full of forgotten trinkets from the past. A time capsule from the heavens.

"Thank you, Paul. Wow, this is unexpected. Do you know who it belonged to?"

Paul shook his head. His eyes flicked behind her as he spotted Matt, still holding the locket. He narrowed his eyes at the shiny relic before studying Matt, memorizing his face. He turned his attention back to Thalia.

"No. I don't know who put it there. I apologize. I didn't know you had company. I'll take my leave now."

"No, wait, please. Come inside. This is Matt. He's a trusted friend." She waved him inside, quickly shutting the door behind him as he unseated his soaking wet jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. He remained calm, like nothing in the world could unnerve him.

"Thank you for coming out this way."

He nodded, eyeing Matt with a peculiar look as the blacksmith got up and approached them.

"You're welcome. It's nice to meet you, Matt. I'm Paul Ulrich. The caretaker." He held out his free hand and waited for Matt to take it. When he did, the old man ran his eyes down Matt's arm, all the way to the fingertips, before letting go, seemingly satisfied with the grip.

"It's good to meet you too, Paul."

"I rarely see Thalia around here, but I'm afraid I'm not going to stay long. I can't help but notice you've found a different kind of celestial artifact, and to tell you the truth, I didn't go through the bag. Just saw some of them when I initially opened it. Those markings are obviously sacred and none of my business as a mortal, but they do appear to be mighty like the ones on your locket there."

"You think so? Do you know anything about celestial artifacts?" Thalia asked. The old man clearly knew more. He looked up at her before glancing at the locket again. He'd never let on that he knew she was immortal, though she'd suspected it. Now he'd confirmed it.

"It's a key, isn't it? A key to Heaven? My mother used to tell me tales about an old locket forged by Gabriel himself, an archangel of God. It was made from magic and materials from a lost realm. He gave it to another unnamed celestial being who had to retrieve a soul from that realm. He used the key to enter a labyrinth and would have had to use it to return to Heaven, but he never did make it back, and the key was lost forever."

Thalia wasn't sure how many more surprises she could take. How did he know all this? A story told to a human child held more answers about the key than anyone else had given her. It couldn't be so simple.

"You said your mother told you this story? Would you know where she heard it from?" she inquired, completely enraptured.

Paul shook his head, looking grim as he grew uncomfortable under the questioning. She hoped he wasn't going to bolt.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you much else. I just don't know. Our family has served immortals of all kinds for centuries. Try as we must to avoid eavesdropping, stories do get through and are passed down. There is no origin to be found. They could just be stories, that's all."

"Thank you for telling us about the stories, Paul," Thalia said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He threw her a grin before giving her a nod. There was no way to repay him for taking care of her sanctuary in her absence, and she didn't want to scare him off. Good help was hard to find. "Please let me know if you think of anything else that could be pertinent to these. I'd really appreciate it."

He nodded, pressing his mouth into a straight line. He wasn't a very chatty old man, but that was what Thalia liked about the caretaker.

"I want you to know you're not the only one I work for. I do not trade secrets that are not mine to give. I can only say that I take care of the homes of a few other immortals, and they expect complete secrecy too. That's why I came calling, to bring this bag of artifacts personally. No one else will be knowing about them at all, I guarantee it."

"Thank you, Paul. I appreciate your honesty and discretion. I'm relieved we'll be safe here."

Thalia invited him into the dining room, offering him food and drink, which he accepted readily. He settled into one of the chairs, appearing tired. He had probably had a long day, checking on various properties. Knowing hers wasn't the only immortal's house around here made her uneasy, but at least the others also wanted privacy. This she could deal with as it came. She quickly offered Paul some coffee, which she needed herself.

"Any clue to this locket's origins will be quite helpful, if you find or hear anything else about it," she added.

He grunted a response, sipping his coffee. He shook his head and frowned as she took a seat at the table and dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. She began unwrapping some of the objects, which were wrapped in disintegrating butcher's paper tied up with crumbling cotton string. Someone had painstakingly taken care of these things before storing them away. There were also a couple of books among the artifacts, which had been carefully wrapped in old, waterproofed leather. She wondered if her parents had hidden these objects, hoping she would acquire them in the future. Somehow, she doubted it.

Like the locket, the artifacts all had markings on them, and as Thalia began to sift through them, she paused as a surge of memories from her childhood flowed through her. Confused, eyebrows pinched, her thoughts flew to the years she wished she'd never forgotten, back to a time when her parents were still alive. At least, the people she'd believed to be her parents. Leaning forward, she gripped onto the table, feeling her stomach lurch as her head spun.

A metal ball on the table rolled toward the locket. Other pieces began to also slide toward the locket, snapping into place on each edge until a star shape had formed, magically fused together into one cohesive whole.

Amazed and dizzy, Thalia wondered how it had triggered her memories. The pieces had all been created by the same person from the same place... another world. A world she couldn't remember. How she knew this was astounding to her. She really was from that place, wasn't she? Past the veil and into a labyrinthine world as beautiful as paradise in Heaven and as dangerous as the battle rings of Hell. A scene played in front of her eyes, like a film. A girl, tiny and frail, barely able to walk, slipping on a rock and caught by her father.

"Thalia, now be careful."

"I'm tired," she whined, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "I want to go home."

"It won't be long now. Just stay close. We'll be at our new home. I promise."

The terrain spanned out before her, rough with tall hedges formed into walls, turning randomly and creating dead-ends or longer passages. Each movement made her parents groan and grow more desperate. Beyond them were thick, walled-off areas holding smaller towns and gatherings of beings. But these areas were wastelands filled with darkness... suffering. Still, beyond them were red beacons lighting up the atmosphere like floodlights aimed at the dark, blackened sky.

"Ah!" Thalia gripped her head, tensing in her chair.

"Are you okay, Thalia?" Matt asked. Paul watched calmly as though he already knew what was going on, but he didn't look one bit happy.

What was this place she'd just envisioned? The beacons call to you. She'd never experienced such force of power before. Not from any immortals or archangels either. Nothing felt like that place where she had walked when she was but a small child. Was it the artifacts and locket evoking these visions? What did it mean?

"These metals aren't from our world. They'll affect you since you're the only one who can use their power. You're from that realm, aren't you?" Paul leaned forward, looking worried.

She panted, still sweating as she regained her senses. "I don't know. I think so, but I just can't remember. It's been so long since I was there." Thalia squeezed her eyes, tears slipping past the slits.

"You'll remember. The closer you get to the realm, the more will come back to you."

How did he know this? Was he psychic? Gifted? A seer? Possibly. Some humans had their own powers, even with their fragile bodies and fleeting lifetimes. None of the immortals should ever underestimate a human. This one was a gold mine of information, yet one had to ask the right questions to get answers from any kind of seer.

She yelped again and grasped her head once more.

Return. The beacons call you home. Return.

Chapter Sixteen

Another scene... the veil, soft like gossamer, tightly woven together and tickling her nose as her mother held her. She molded her tiny body to her mother's chest.

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"Hold on tightly. We're almost there."

A loud noise like tornado warnings filled the air, wailing against the wind whipping around them.

The veil. It's soft and hypnotizing. Her father beckons them forward, reaching out to press the key into Thalia's hand.

"Whatever happens, don't let go of this, and don't let go of us. We're leaving."

Leaving from where? Where were they going?

Thalia squeezed her eyes shut, but the vision faded and catapulted her back to the present, where Matt's concerned eyes watched her carefully. Paul's expression remained solemn, almost sad. She sat back, slumping in her chair and exhausted.

After a few moments, she glanced at Paul, her eyes full and wide as she caught her breath. "These things... they belong to my family. But how did they get here? That place... my parents." She swallowed. "Why would my family leave the Skein and bring artifacts from the labyrinth that open a gate to Heaven? Did they steal them? Why would they bring me here?"

She looked up, glancing between Paul and Matt but finding no answers. The answers were in her mind, and she'd known this for decades. If only she could pry more of them out. But she had one answer right now. As absurd as it sounded, she was from the Skein. She'd been born there, a place beyond the boundaries of Earth and far different from Heaven or Hell. A world of mazes and old magic.

"Somehow," Paul said, sighing as he rubbed his face, "your family brought you to Earth. And for a reason. You could be stuck here forever, never allowed into Heaven because you're not of this world." He blinked his milky, light blue eyes, so pale they looked like glass. "It calls you to return, doesn't it? Maybe your family calls to you."

"But my parents died on Earth and went to Heaven. I was banished from that realm but not told why." Thalia slammed a fist on the table, her frustration venting. "So that theory wouldn't be possible."

Paul looked apprehensive. "I don't know the whole story, but I suspect your parents were not who they said they were. They were human. Taken from Earth to the fourth realm, where they acquired you somehow. Then, for whatever reason, they brought you here, but you are not human. You are not their true daughter."

"What makes you think that's what happened?" Matt asked, leaning forward, his fingers laced together so tightly that his knuckles shone white as marble.

"From bits and pieces... flashes I can read from Thalia's thoughts. I see flashes from these artifacts as well. I am what you'd call gifted, but things do not come in complete pictures. My family has long worked as caretakers for the immortals because we all have these gifts and are more comfortable among magical beings who do not judge us. Not angels. Not demons. Just immortals. From what I garner, your family was taken from Earth to work the land in the labyrinth. When they managed to find the key to leave the realm and return to Earth, they brought you back with them. They were accepted into Heaven because they were human, but you are not. You're from the Skein Realm.

"When your parents were killed, they'd earned their way into Heaven. I could be wrong, but I sense that you agree with me. How and why this happened, I don't know, but take this into consideration: it means you must return to the Skein Realm to find out who you really are."

"Whoa, this is absurd!" Matt cried. "There is no way Thalia was born there."

Paul shot him an impatient glare, but Thalia remained silent, her eyes wide in thought as her mind picked over the old caretaker's words. Fresh memories were emerging... memories of her journey across the veil. His theory was possible. It could explain why, in her memories, her parents always seemed odd to her, different in a way she couldn't pinpoint. Could she be a long-lost child of the Skein Realm? Why would her parents take her from there? Who was she really?

"This is crazy," Thalia finally said. Her heart hammered in her chest as she snatched the star locket from the table. It was no heavier than before but three times as big. It hummed with magic beneath her fingertips, alive and pulsating. That was new.

"Thanks for bringing these, Paul. They must be the clue I'm missing about the past. I'm sorry if we've insulted you in any way. We truly didn't mean to. This is just a lot to take in, and I'm ill-equipped to handle such revelations."

Paul gave her a curt nod and stood up from the table, looking more tired than anything else. "I'll take my leave now. I wasn't going to bring these until tomorrow, but tonight I was hit with an urgent need to do so. I'm sorry I didn't give them to you sooner. It couldn't be helped. In my family, we take hunches and premonitions seriously. It's what makes us so special to the people we serve. I hope you find more answers, but I will also leave you with something useful in the search for your origins."

Thalia glanced up, caught off guard by his unusual offer. "What do you mean?"

"The name of another who might know more about things beyond the veil. His name is Theroniel, and he lives in the outskirts of St. George, Utah. He is a Fallen but was here on Earth long before the gates of Heaven shut. Go find him; he owns a vast homestead he's been hiding on for ages now. When you see him, you'll know why he prefers solitude, much like you. He has information that might be useful to you about the Skein, and"—he paused, directing a sympathetic look toward her—"I suggest you make your way there as soon as possible. Once things cool down, of course. Time is vital. Now, after centuries of calm, I fear a war is stewing. Good luck to the both of you."

Paul turned and walked over to the coat rack. "I'll draw you a map to Theroniel's house in the morning. Good night." He slipped on his jacket before opening the front door, slipping out, and shutting it quietly behind him. Thalia marveled at all the secrets the mysterious caretaker had kept. Why hadn't she thought to ask him about things before now? It might have saved her so much grief.

No matter, she thought. The past was the past. Things were coming to a head, and she needed to be on top of this situation.

"So." Matt placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, seeing that she hadn't been in a hurry to stand. The dizziness was gone, but the rush of memories had sucked the last of her energy away. She rolled them over and over across her mind. "This guy, Theroniel... what do you think he even knows? And what the heck is a Fallen?"

"I don't know who Theroniel is, but if Paul says we should pay him a visit, I'm going to trust him. He's kept my sanctuary safe for decades. If that doesn't prove his worth, then nothing else will." She sighed, feeling exhausted after the long evening. "And a Fallen is an angel who gave up his wings and the paradise of Heaven for love of a human."

"Wow. That would be a tough decision to make." Matt scratched his head before sliding his hand over the two-day-old stubble growing on his jaw. The scruff looked good on him. It matured his youthful, twenty-two-year old face. She resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers over the smooth, slightly prickly stubble.

Speaking of love... get a grip on yourself, she scolded herself, swinging her gaze back toward the fire, the safest spot in the room. If she'd had wings and access to Heaven, she didn't know if she'd give them up for love. But if the right person entered her life, she couldn't say she wouldn't be tempted... very tempted.

Chapter Seventeen

"What the hell is in St. George, Utah, besides dozens of steeples?" Matt wrinkled his nose as he peered out the window of the rental car, counting yet another church building in the distance. Flying there from New York had been the faster option but getting through airport security without scrutiny had taken some charm. Luckily, Thalia had the exact magic for that. Spellcasting wasn't her forte, but she'd learned a thing or two after years of operating covertly. What good was being immortal if you didn't pick up a few tricks?

The FBI or CIA would love her. The thought made her chuckle as she gripped the steering wheel, squinting at each passing road sign for the right turn off. St. George looked deceptively flat, but it was full of little hills and ditches in between the houses and churches. Once they passed the outskirts, the number of steeples lessened, but they had reminded her that religion was a man-made concept. Still, she knew to never get into an argument with anyone about religion; there were just too many subjective variations to win such disputes.

"There!" She pointed and slowed down as a rural, unpaved road appeared suddenly off to the right. There was a steep incline past the gate, but it had to be the right homestead. The actual house was nowhere near the road, but she could see the tip of the pointed rooftop from the highway.

Dirt spewed up behind the car as they turned onto the road. Thalia hoped this Theroniel would have some answers. Any information she'd acquired so far had only brought more questions. It made her head ache.

"What if he can't help us?" Matt asked as he flipped through a map of Utah he'd found in the glove compartment of the rented Accord. Thalia had used one of her many aliases to acquire it, one that had a steady job in Los Angeles as a waitress at an exquisite restaurant. She knew the maître d' there, who owed her his life. Anyone who followed up would learn that Tina Johnson did indeed work there and made excellent wages and tips. Never late and always courteous. The ideal worker.

It wasn't much, but the identity had saved her butt more times than she could count, especially when it came to credit or places to stay.

"I don't know. We're back to square one then. Not much different from where we started, I guess. Only now...." She paused. Only now she'd have to go crawling back to Ereziel for any information he might know and had conveniently held back in past. She gripped the steering wheel more tightly as they approached the ranch home. They came to a stop, and a bellowing cloud of dust surrounded the car.

As the cloud blew away, a man with a cowboy hat and a shotgun appeared on the porch, his weapon pointed at their car. They glanced at each other before turning back to the stranger.

"You're trespassing!" the man shouted. "Turn around and go before I'm forced to shoot you!" His voice was harsh, tense, unwelcoming. She didn't know why she'd expected him to have wings; Fallen were the only kinds of angels without them. Even so, she could see his regal bearing, his proud stance. He kept his knees bent and his shoulders crouched just a bit, as though centuries without wings had not corrected his posture.

"Is that the angel?" Matt whispered.

"Not a true angel anymore. He's a Fallen. He has no wings." Thalia frowned, feeling for the handle of her angel-killer sword by her thigh. She didn't keep it anywhere but at her side. She couldn't count how many times she'd been attacked getting out of a car, and even a Fallen had superhuman strength and abilities. The only thing that made them stand apart from other angels was the lack of wings.

She knew more than anyone to never underestimate a Fallen. Her previous encounters with them told her they were almost always more dangerous than a winged angel. They were bitter. They'd each lost the mortal human lover they'd given up their wings for. Immortality was still their curse, except now they lived without wings.

Thalia rolled down the window, poked out her head, and waved an arm. "Paul sent us to you, Theroniel. Please don't shoot. I'm Thalia Brennan. He said you might have some answers to questions I have."

Theroniel's stern face glared, a piercing stare that made her want to shrink back into the car, roll the window up, and whip the vehicle around. He was evaluating whether or not she was a threat. From the state of the road, she doubted he got many visitors.

He lowered his shotgun and begrudgingly motioned for them to get out of the car. They immediately obeyed. Thalia left her sword in the car so as to not insult Theroniel. At least it'd be close enough to run to if need be.

She stood by the car, her hands up in the air. Matt mirrored her actions.

"Please. Paul said you could help me."

"Thalia Brennan. I knew your parents. Kind, they were. I fear seeing you here means they have met their fate."

Thalia was stunned. She cleared her throat. "You knew my parents?" She immediately felt ignorant. He was no ordinary Fallen. She sensed he'd been an archangel. He might have met her when she was a toddler, for all she knew, but she couldn't remember that far back. She would remember an archangel, wouldn't she? Especially a powerful Fallen one. He reeked of power, like sharp ozone after a summer storm or the freshly burnt air around a downed powerline snared across the road. It was not easy being in the presence of unearthly beings, especially those meant to serve at the right hand of God.

While angels were a dime a dozen, there were but a handful of archangels. They were the leaders of legions of winged creatures, but as tyrannical as could be expected. Someone had to be in control of the masses, or chaos would ensue. It was the same with humans, only mortals didn't possess such an air of authority.

"Yes, I knew them," Theroniel said softly, his eyes softening as he reminisced. "They were good friends of mine when you were but a small thing. When they left here, I was saddened. It gets quite lonely living here. Their company was quite welcome, but they were on the run and couldn't stay forever."

Theroniel smiled, his blue eyes twinkling under the midday sun. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she rubbed her arms furiously. Darn angel powers... they were hard to ignore.

"Sorry about the shotgun. Can never be too careful around these parts. I've had several cattle stolen the past few months. Damn raiders are getting out hand. Plus, your credentials precede you, la petit mort."

Thalia halted in her steps, her fingers twitching for the absent sword. Was he being precocious or just welcoming? It was hard to tell. She didn't like that. Not one bit.

"Don't worry, I know about the sword you left in your car. You can grab it if you like. It can't kill archangels. In times like these, you can't trust even us. Go on, it won't bother me any."

Her eyes widened. He threw her a deep wink, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. His eyes were no longer twinkling though, and Thalia felt the air grow cold along the back of her neck. It shattered the illusion that he trusted her just because he'd been friends with her parents. How naïve would she have to be to think he'd be an instant ally? Him knowing her parents only gave her a bit more breathing room.

"Sorry to hear about your cattle," she responded, clearing her throat. "And thank you. I'll go grab it, if it's all the same to you. It's my job to be ready and armed. I can leave it at the door." She worried that if he handled it, the metal would burn him. Good thing she had it in a sheath.

"No need. I know you're a mercenary, and who am I to deny you your bag of tricks? I heard you're a damned good one too."

"Being a killer is nothing to be proud of," Thalia said, feeling her face flush at his compliment. Nonetheless, she was proud of her skills. Many mercenaries gave her a wide berth because of her ruthless reputation. That's how she liked it.

"We are all killers here. Trust me. Heaven and Hell are their own kingdoms, but here on Earth, it's a whole different kind of damnation. We have no choice but to kill or be killed."

"Kind of harsh coming from an angel," Matt muttered, his face darkening as he followed them into the house.

"Be careful, young man. Those who judge too quickly are usually the first to go. I'm just honest. Plus, I'm not just an angel."

Matt's eyes widened as he glanced toward Thalia, who mouthed the word "archangel" to him. His jaw went slack. Insulting an archangel was a death sentence most of the time. It was fortunate Matt didn't know about that rule, or he'd have fainted from the information. At least, she didn't think he knew about it. For someone who was aware of celestial beings, there seemed to be strange gaps in his knowledge. Celestials had a set of universal rules to be heeded by all those who could see them and their wings. Humans were mostly exempt unless they were awoken. Awakenings were rare. Most remained oblivious to the celestial beings among them. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.

They settled into the living room of Theroniel's home, sitting in silence as the archangel studied them both. His eyes were as sharp as diamonds; Thalia felt like she was being dissected. Matt wiggled in his chair, his pained expression poorly hidden beneath the stoic mask he was attempting to wear. He probably felt worse beneath Theroniel's stare than Thalia did, for he had no defenses against these intense scrutinizations. Ichiro's probe had been worse, but Thalia's immortality helped her withstand the uncomfortable effects.

The pressure of Theroniel's analysis eased, and Matt leaned forward, his head in his hands as he breathed hard. Sweat stained the pits of his shirt and drenched the front and back of it too.

"What did you just do to us?" he asked, dazed.

"I saw into your thoughts to determine how sincere you are. It won't tell me everything about you, but it lets me know if you can be trusted and if you're worth the time I'm about to give you."

"Did we pass?" Thalia asked, trying to ease the attention Matt was receiving. It was never a good thing to be the focus of an archangel. They were divine creatures never meant to be engaged by mortals. Maybe it was a protection mechanism or some residual effect of living in Heaven for so long, but their powers could mentally and emotionally devastate, even without much effort on the archangel's part. It took time to adjust to their attentions.

Cursed and stuck on Earth, the archangels were trapped in a realm that couldn't withstand their presence long without paying a steep price. It was why they were such solitary creatures, surrounded only by weak-minded fools. Those smart enough to understand the unearthly powers they possessed couldn't be in their presence for long. It must be one of the loneliest existences ever, Thalia thought.

She looked away, conserving her strength. Loneliness was a torture she knew well, and she could sympathize. However, she had never felt sorry for them before. Why start now?

"I have questions," she said, her voice stiff and direct.

Theroniel leaned back in his armchair, relaxing as he crossed a leg over a thigh, his hands clasped together. His eyes twinkled mischievously once more.

"And I will attempt to appease you with answers. Ask away."

Chapter Eighteen

There was a cloud of tension in the room, the kind which sits delicately in the air awaiting a shattering moment when both parties turn on each other and the oxygen is sucked from the room. A kind of emotion, a decision which could devastate a life in a single second.

"Do you know what this is?" Thalia fished the locket out from her pocket, letting the light filtering through the open window hit it just right. It splintered the sun's rays into a thousand tiny beams, spraying the room with pinpricks of rainbow-colored light. She supposed it wasn't really a locket anymore. With the other artifacts fused to it in the shape of a star, it looked like nothing ever made by human hands.

Theroniel leaned forward and plucked it from Thalia's fingers. He held it up, his sapphire-like eyes gliding over its surface, excitement glimmering in them. He turned it around in his hand and took in each engraving, thoroughly running the pad of his finger over every groove and edge until he was satisfied.

"Yes. I know what it is," he said, handing it back.

She waited, wondering if this was a trick. Did he want her to specifically ask him to continue, or was he waiting for a reaction from her? A moment later, she got her answer.

"It's a key to the Skein Realm." Theroniel relaxed back into his armchair. He pulled a clay pipe and a leather tobacco pouch from his pants pocket and, without looking up or explaining further, packed the bowl of the old pipe—a carved relic that looked centuries old—lit it, and puffed away at it. He shook the match out and tossed it into the ashtray on the side table next to him.

"Why would Ariuk have a key to the Skein?" she asked, ignoring the smoky haze drifting her way. Its sweet bite reminded her of leather and old fur, cherries and pure vanilla. She upturned her nose at the smell, afraid to cough from the tickle it was causing in the back of her throat.

Theroniel lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. "What does Ariuk have to do with the key?" he asked.

"He's the one who gave it to me. Right before I killed him."

Theroniel froze, his stare momentarily turning icy before he burst out laughing. "You killed Ariuk? About time. He was scum dressed up like royalty."

"So, you knew Ariuk?"

"He was a friend, but I haven't seen him much since the turn of the century. Technology helps close distances, though." He reached over, tapped a tablet sitting next to the ashtray, and winked.

"Oh." Thalia straightened her back, feeling more awkward than ever. What did it mean to be an archangel's friend? Did being his murderer make her this guy's enemy? God, she hoped not. At least he appeared calm about it so far. Apparently, the violence of the world did little to faze him.

"Don't worry, we weren't friends in a way that I would kill you for offing the guy. The man was a corpse-possessing demon, after all. He wore those bodies like they were his own. I never approved of his methods, but he could be a gentle soul at times. And he loved a good tobacco." He held out his pipe, offering Thalia and Matt a puff. They both refused, which didn't upset him at all. "He deserved what you gave him. Eternal damnation. Even so, I would've waited to question him on a great many things before doing him in. He might've answered most of your questions, saving you a trip all the way out here. Anything I know, he would've known too."

Thalia swallowed, shame flooding her senses and blood rushing to her cheeks as she sucked in a breath. "Like how the locket fell into his possession?"

"He was a collector of artifacts. Sure, he collected humans too, swapped bodies when he pleased, and even trafficked women when he liked, but he also had a taste for antiquities... museum-quality relics. You could say he was an anthropologist of sorts. Too bad he liked the unsavory side of life too. I'm glad you brought an end to his many conquests."

"Yeah, me too," Matt mumbled. The irritation in his voice told Thalia he wasn't faring well being so close to the archangel. She'd have to make this quick.

"And the locket? Where did he get it?"

"Who knows. Probably from some scavenger. What's important is who it belongs to and where they are."

"Okay." She sighed, knowing she'd have to take the bait. "Who does the locket belong to?"

"It belonged to the archangel Sidriel, an old, old friend of mine. He was sent into the Skein through the gate between Heaven and that realm. He was sent to retrieve a person, a lost soul who belonged to no one and nowhere, but was lost inside the labyrinth. The blacksmiths of Heaven forged the locket as a key so he could return to Heaven from the Skein Realm."

"What happened to this Sidriel?"

Theroniel rubbed his chin, his mostly white beard shining under the sun beaming across it.

"Well, that's the mystery of it all, isn't it? To this day, no one knows. Sidriel never returned to Heaven, and the key was lost. No trace of him was ever found. Any angels seeking him couldn't enter the Skein without this key unless the veil was opened from the other side, which hasn't happened for ages."

"Why didn't the blacksmiths of Heaven make another key?" Matt asked, his complexion looking gaunt as sweat soaked the nape of his shirt. He could pass out any minute, even though he was seated. Thalia bit her lip with concern but focused on Theroniel as he spoke.

"Because only one key could ever be made to any gate in Heaven, and only those of Skein blood can open the gate between the Skein Realm and Earth."

"But," Thalia interjected, "the Skein opened once when my parents came to Earth with me as a child." His answers confused her; she still didn't know why her parents had brought her here. Desperate, she continued. "Why would my parents do that? Why would they risk crossing the veil to Earth, and how did they do it if they were human and not of Skein blood?"

"Isn't it obvious? The Skein is a mysterious place, and few who have crossed have ever returned. The Skein is not like Earth. The people there rarely reproduce. Your parents were mortals stolen from Earth centuries before. Your true parents must have been from the Skein, and the ones you called Mom and Dad were imposters who stole you from whoever they were running from. With your blood, they were able to cross back to Earth."

Matt and Thalia sat in silence, unable to believe what he was saying.

"She was born in the Skein?" Matt muttered, looking more agitated than ever.

"Matt, you might want to go sit on the porch," Theroniel suggested unemotionally. "Sometimes mortals can't withstand being in the presence of an archangel."

"What?" His eyes were wild, his face flushed. He would collapse soon if Thalia didn't remove him.

"You're not feeling well because Theroniel's powers overwhelm mortals," she said. "Go outside. Trust me, you'll feel better." She hopped to her feet and helped Matt to his. Turning back toward Theroniel, she threw him a curt nod. "I'll be right back."

"I have an eternity to wait," the archangel stated, looking as relaxed as he'd been from the moment they'd entered. It was disturbing seeing how little he cared about his effect on Matt.

"Come on, sit here." Thalia let Matt slide down into the chair sitting on the porch. She ran back inside and grabbed a glass of water for him. Theroniel watched her as she returned to the porch. She coaxed Matt to take a drink then watched him closely as he took a few deep breaths.

"Why do I feel so funny?"

"I told you, archangels are powerful, and they affect humans in bad ways. Sorry. I should've remembered you might not be able to tolerate it."

"Why doesn't it affect you?"

"The longer and more frequently you're exposed to them, your body adjusts and creates a type of tolerance to their power. It's why archangels can have entourages of mortals and not affect them much. I'm used to Ereziel's powers since he's my sponsor. Once you adjust, you're good to go."

"So, I have to sit out here? What if you need me?" His eyes had refocused, and his skin color was beginning to normalize.

"Trust me, I'll holler if I need you. Just wait here, okay?"

He nodded, not looking too happy about the situation. She squeezed his shoulder and turned back toward the door. Before entering, she grabbed the doorway with one hand, feeling a tiny wave of dizziness herself.

"Not many immortals can stand my company for long, as you have, dear Thalia," Theroniel said as he watched her make her way back to the chair she'd been sitting in.

"I'll be fine. Tell me, why would my parents bury bits of the key for me to find later?"

"Isn't it obvious? Your parents stole the key from Sidriel." Theroniel tilted his head, drilling his eyes into her. The room tilted, but she blinked the odd sensation away, fighting to focus on the archangel.

Thalia frowned. "Nothing is ever obvious." Could her parents have done such a thing and stranded Sidriel in the Skein? "It still doesn't explain how they acquired me."

"You're right. It doesn't." Theroniel peered at her curiously. Had it occurred to him that she was neither human nor angel? What was she then, if not mortal? What lived in the Skein?

"Do you ever want to return to Heaven?" Thalia asked, knowing he wouldn't have an answer about her true heritage.

He continued to study her, drilling his piercing blue eyes into her as though they could pry out all her secrets and desires in one fell swoop. It was odd that he was so easygoing and unperturbed, though his power was overwhelming. At least he wasn't stirring in her mind anymore. Still, being in his presence made it difficult to concentrate.

"It is unfortunate that my brethren were here when Heaven's gate closed. They all tried to return, begged and prayed for it. They tried everything to get back, but there was no going back. We are not mortal, so entering via Purgatory is not an option. It's the only path into Heaven now."

"But you're a Fallen, right? You chose to be here. Why would God do that to his followers? Aren't archangels his most precious lieutenants?"

Theroniel looked away and out the window, toward the road. The corners of his mouth twitched. She had shaken him. How often would an archangel get upset after all these years? It couldn't be easy getting over the fact they were locked out of paradise forever, never to return. His mortal love was probably long dead, and he remained here, trapped, immortal and without wings. Did the angels hold out hope that one day God would reopen the gates and welcome them back with open arms, regardless of how they lived their lives on Earth?

She guessed it didn't really matter, but she could see the subject was still a sore one among the accursed. It seemed God was no longer so forgiving of his subjects.

"We've been forgotten. There will be no returning to Heaven for any of us. But you—you might stand a chance to reach paradise. I would be wary, though. You're the only one with a key to Heaven, and it'll make you the most hunted person on Earth.

"You have nothing to fear from me, for I do not believe I'll ever return. I chose this, and I will live the rest of my immortal life here. It was believed that no one could enter the Skein." He wrinkled his nose and swung his gaze back to Thalia. "Yet here you stand, a refugee from the Skein itself. Unfortunately, it's not nearly enough to convince me there is another way back into Heaven. It might be prudent to assume Ereziel will begin to hunt for you himself. Any of the archangels might. The problem is, nobody knows the way back into the Skein, not even you. You killed the one person who might have known how to enter the fourth realm, but he could never reach it, for he was not from there."

Thalia regretted killing Ariuk more than ever, but there was no turning back from her vile deeds. All she had was one stupid locket.

Chapter Nineteen

"You were supposed to have all the answers, but the ones you've given me bring me no closer to the Skein or my origins. You don't even know where the blasted entrance to the maze is located. Why would Paul send me to someone who is just as clueless as I am?" Thalia curled her fingers into her palms, feeling her nails dig into her flesh. Her short temper surged, try as she might to tame it.

Theroniel didn't flinch at her words but instead exhaled slowly, blowing out smoke as he glanced out the window again. She felt herself pushing against his powers, searching for a weakness along the barrier. He picked up on it and got to his feet, still looking out the window. His eyes moved to the door as Matt stumbled in.

"We have company," Matt said, pointing toward the window. "These any of your guys?" he asked the archangel.

Theroniel shook his head but didn't move as though he knew what was going to happen and had known for long time.

"Who are they?" Thalia was already on her feet and shoving aside the curtains to look out at the road. Several vehicles were rapidly approaching, kicking up dust behind them.

"I don't know, but I suspect they're here for the key and have been following you all the way from New York City."

Thalia paused, a rock sitting in her chest as she realized she knew who was coming for them. They'd never stop. They'd been coming after her and Matt ever since they'd seen her angel-killer sword and realized Ariuk had lost his locket.

"Dammit, it's Ichiro's men. I didn't think they would catch up to us this quickly." She faced Theroniel. "Is there another vehicle out back we could use?"

"I have no need for vehicles. I have these." He reached over toward a large trunk set near his armchair. He flipped open the lid and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth. He unfolded it and hoisted up a jumble of metal and leather. A set of metal wings.

"I must go now," he said, slipping the contraption over his shoulders, "but I do wish you luck. I hope you find the entrance to the maze world. If anyone can find it, it's you, dear Thalia. I had a pleasant visit. Do stop by when you can in the future."

Theroniel secured the leather straps around his torso then extended the wings, which took up most of the living room. Gears whirred as the wings flexed and contracted, almost like natural wings. Whatever they were made of must have been the lightest but strongest metal around. The feathers glinted in the beams of sunlight before he bent his knees and bolted up through an open skylight in the roof. She hadn't even noticed that he'd clicked a mechanism to slide it open as he'd donned his artificial wings. So, he wasn't flightless after all. Technology had become his best friend.

The roar of vehicles became louder, and she turned back to the window. "Damn bastard," Thalia cursed. "I guess we're going to have to fight our way out. Grab that shotgun."

Matt plucked up the gun Theroniel had left behind. Thalia grabbed her sword and pulled out several other knives that she had tucked into her pants and jacket.

Unsheathing her angel-killer sword, she perched near the window, eyeing the approaching convoy. Matt checked to make sure the shotgun was loaded then grabbed the half-full box of shells sitting near Theroniel's chair. The cars came to an abrupt stop in front of the house. Several doors opened and shut. A few seconds passed in silence, interrupted only by a slight wind lifting the sheer curtains. It was too nice of a day for a firefight, but there was never a good time for a shootout.

"Thalia!" a man called out to her. "Give us the locket and sword, and we'll let you go." She recognized him as one of Ichiro's lieutenants. He had slicked back, dirty blonde hair and was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. His stiff jaw told her he meant business, but otherwise, he appeared far too youthful to be anyone important. Maybe he was an immortal. Maybe he was just a young, astute kid.

She didn't answer, instead remaining crouched at the windowsill and examining the room for another way out. Besides Theroniel's hole in the ceiling, there was one back door she could see out of. It was wide open, but with the screen still in place.

She pointed toward it, but Matt shook his head.

"They'll run us down out there," he whispered. "Our best bet is to pick them off one by one until we can get to our car."

Thalia groaned, but he was right. Running from the enemy wouldn't get them far unless there were wheels to confiscate. For now, they would remain inside.

"You're forcing us to take it from you," the man called out. "Give us the locket and avoid death or choose to die now." The blonde man didn't wait for an answer, instead waving his cohorts forward. The insignia on his right breast pocket confirmed who was chasing them.

"Dammit, Ichiro," she whispered. "I knew he'd come after me. Maybe I should've just given him the stupid locket. It's been nothing but trouble. At least if I had, he wouldn't have the complete key since we didn't find the pieces my parents left me until after I saw him."

"Don't give them anything," Matt protested. "It's your birthright. Without it, you'll have no way into the labyrinth. Plus, that's all you've ever wanted, right? Entrance to Heaven to be with your family. You can't give up on that dream."

"What if it's just a dream? What if we never find the Skein?"

Matt reached over and squeezed her shoulder before rubbing her back. It sent a shiver down her spine and warmed her middle even as her heart hammered in panic.

"Trust me. Like Theroniel said, if anyone can find it, it's you."

Thalia had to admit that Matt was right again. How did he know her so well, yet they were far from being close friends? She sucked in a breath and leaned toward the window, refocusing her attention on the approaching enemy before yelling out to them.

"If you want the locket, you're going to have to pry it from my hands. I'm waiting."

She'd stand her ground. Nothing had been able to kill her before, but she wouldn't put it past an archangel like Ichiro to find a way. She now knew she was from the Skein. Were her people actually immortal or just highly resilient? Even if she did die, at least she would go down fighting.

Matt was another problem. He could definitely die, and easily, and she didn't relish the thought of him sacrificing his life for her.

They were greeted by the thumping of several boots shuffling up the driveway. If they could drive the enemy back and pick them off one by one, like Matt had suggested, they might have a chance of making it through this ordeal. Any which way, it was looking bleak.

She silently counted bodies as they fanned out, approaching cautiously. She placed her sword on the floor and pulled a handgun from her jacket. The sword was best for hand-to-hand fighting, but at distance, little could take the place of a gun.

They couldn't allow them to get up the steps. They'd have to keep them all several feet from the door if they were going to do this right. All servants of an archangel would fight to the death to fulfill their master's desires. It meant they would not stop. Blind faith was as dangerous as no faith at all.

Good thing she was born for this. She was ready to kill them all.

Chapter Twenty

The attack was not going well. Thalia went through her bullets faster than the enemy. Matt only had ammunition left because it took him longer to reload. The others were going to enter the house any minute now. The second wave of fighters waited by the cars, hunched behind the metal to avoid their bullets.

"This isn't going our way!" Thalia snapped, wondering how they were going to get out of this. "We might have to make a run for it."

Matt appraised her, throwing her a knowing look with a tight frown. He looked out the window once more as he propped his shotgun up on the sill and shot at one of the cars.

"Well, it was great knowing you, Thalia. I must admit, it's never a boring day around you. I do, however, regret we didn't get to know each other better than this."

Thalia didn't respond but felt her cheeks burn at his comment, not wanting to admit she wished for the same thing. Bullets interrupted her thoughts as they rained through the broken window and shattered its frame. She got to her feet, grasping her sword as she listened to the approaching footsteps outside. If only the words would come to her to let Matt know how he had made her feel before the ambush. Unfortunately, the phrases failed to materialize on her lips; her mind was frozen.

The door exploded into a spray of splinters, but Thalia was ready. She jabbed her sword forward, catching one on the right side of his neck. Blood sprayed across the room as he fell to his knees, grasping at the wound, but another enemy immediately replaced him. They all had weapons; swords, daggers, and guns. At least the latter appeared to be as empty as hers. They still tried to smack her over the head with the guns, but none got close enough to do any damage. They were just too darn slow.

She killed each one easily with her angel-killer sword, but more kept coming. At least the door created a choke point, which helped slow them down. Soon, the telltale clicks of Matt running out of ammo sounded out like a bomb behind her. She sucked in a breath, smacking one of the men over the head with her gun, and then shoving him out the doorway. He went flying over the porch railing, his body landing with a thwack just out of sight.

"It's time to go!" she called out to Matt, but before he could answer, a loud yell sounded outside as she disposed of the last warrior on the porch. She watched in shock as the ninja from Ichiro's club picked his way through the warriors bunched up around the cars, dispatching them far too easily. He wasn't alone. Three others fought alongside him, and although they no longer wore Ichiro's insignia, she knew he was a traitor and couldn't be trusted. Why was he attacking those he'd fought beside before? What reason did this man have to fight against Ichiro's crew? Despite her questions, Thalia was certainly glad he'd chosen her side.

"What the hell?" Matt exclaimed, still carrying the shotgun, for all it was worth. All he could do was bludgeon someone with it, which was probably his plan. He joined her at the doorway and watched the ninja team decimate Ichiro's men, including the pretentious blonde, who now lay next to his car, impaled by a sword.

"Come on!" Thalia yelled. "We can make it to our car while they're distracted and get the hell out of here. I think they're all out of bullets."

She grabbed Matt's arm and dragged him down the wooden steps and out into the open. The others were too busy fighting the black-clad warriors to give them much notice. Those who got too close were immediately dispatched with a swipe of the angel-killer sword. Matt hit another one of the warriors on the side of the head, knocking him out cold with a cringe-worthy crack. At least he could hold his own against these people; she wasn't sure what she'd do if he wasn't able to. She'd have to remember to thank him later for not crumbling under pressure.

Thalia made it to their rental car, grasping for the door handle before jumping into the driver's side. Fishing out the keys from her jacket, she slammed them into the ignition as Matt plopped onto the seat beside her, closing the door on the arm of one of their assailants. Matt shoved the door back open and gave him a swift kick, sending him tumbling to the ground as Thalia shifted the car into reverse. She jerked the steering wheel, and the car spun right, toward the dirt road, the wheels screeching against the gravel as she threw it into drive.

The vehicle lurched violently, catching its tread on the rocks in one glorious heave. They sped away, spewing gravel and debris behind them and sending up a massive plume of dust. Tossing a glance in the rearview mirror, Thalia watched as the house went up in flames. Ichiro's men had set fire to it to cover up the massacre or smoke out anyone left inside. Either way, Theroniel would have nothing but ashes to return to.

Through the clouds of dust, she found the traitor ninja who'd helped them. He had his blood-streaked katana, its blade dripping of crimson fluid, held out to the side as he watched them leave. He bowed his head, dismissing them as the fire spread to the dry vegetation surrounding the house. It burned with unusual speed, consuming the quaint ranch home in record time. Had they fed the fire with gasoline? She was sure of it and knew the propane tank in the back would eventually ignite from the intense heat. Good thing they wouldn't be near enough to feel the explosion.

Would the warriors left standing realize this as they continued to fight? Not that she cared, but she fought to not look back at the flames illuminating the darkening evening sky. They reached the main road as the propane tank shot fire into the sky. The explosion shook the car, but they were far enough away that the windows didn't shatter.

Once safely out on the road, she reached up to grasp the artifact dangling around her neck. "All this for a pathetic little locket. Who knew?"

"It must be real special for those people to go through so much trouble. But who were those warriors helping us? I thought they were part of Ichiro's group."

"That's because they were part of Ichiro's men. But not anymore. They've betrayed him."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. But I'm not going to reject their help. They're the only reason we got away. I hope they left before the place exploded. Poor Theroniel. His little abode is history."

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

Matt's eyes turned glassy as his smiling expression softened. He gazed out the side window, solemn and quiet. She kept an eye on the road and watched him in the periphery, stealing glances every now and then at him, wondering what was drifting through his mind. He looked different, too silent and somber. There was no telling what he thought of their situation. Her situation, she reminded herself.

There was no one following them, nor had she seen any car lights ahead of them either. At least they had the cover of darkness. Eventually, Ichiro's men would figure out which direction they'd taken. She'd have to get onto a different road sooner or later, so she played the map of Utah through her mind before turning at an intersection. Figuring out a route, she finally turned toward Matt to find him sweating profusely and squeezing his eyes shut, his head pressed against the cool window. His hand was pressed to his stomach, where blood seeped between his fingers, soaking his shirt.

"Matt? Are you all right? What's wrong? Matt!"

Chapter Twenty-One

Matt roused, bleary eyed and drowsy.

"Matt, talk to me. You're hurt."

"What? Yeah... they shot me. Someone still had ammo and shot me when I was getting into the car." Matt's words were slurred. His eyelids slid closed again, his head bobbing as the car bumped over the ruts and divots in the road.

Thalia cursed under her breath but continued to drive. She'd been so focused on getting the car into gear, her brain hadn't registered the sound of the shot. Her heart began hammering in her chest, and she squeezed the steering wheel impossibly tight. Her knuckles gleamed stark white beneath the moonlight as the radio played some violent metal guitar music she ignored. A truck stop sign shined up ahead, and she decided to pull the car into the rear of the parking lot. Flipping the light on, she then moved Matt's hands from the wound, calling out to him as she examined the injury.

Matt stirred and looked at her, barely focusing, his head rolling.

"Let me see." She peered beneath his hand as she moved to let the car's light shine on the wound. It was high in the middle of his stomach. It was serious; the amount of blood pouring from the site told her the bullet had hit something vital, or at least nicked it good.

"Crap," she cursed under her breath, fumbling through a bag sitting in the backseat for some of Matt's T-shirts. Finding two white ones, she folded and pressed them to his wound. He yelped from the pain, which woke him up immediately. After the brief cry, he quieted again, and he looked like he was about to pass out.

"Matt? It's all right. Keep pressure on it," she said, pushing on the site. He groaned, stirring once more.

"Geez, that can't be good," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I need to take you to a hospital."

"No hospitals. Use the salve."

"I can't fix this. There's internal bleeding which I can't reach with the salve. You need surgery and a blood transfusion. No amount of petty magic can fix this without intervention. You need a doctor."

He reached out, curling his fingers around her wrist and shoving her away. He replaced her hands with his, refusing to look her way. Thalia grabbed his belt, ripped it off his pants, and tightened it around his waist to hold the T-shirts in place. The bottom one had already soaked through.

"No hospitals," he grunted. "No cops. I'm wanted, you know. I'm not going back to jail. I'd rather die."

"I'm not going to let you die," Thalia snapped. Satisfied that the belt was tight enough, she wiped her hands on yet another shirt and grabbed the steering wheel. Where was the nearest hospital? She had to figure out something to save him. There was no way he was dying now. Not now. Not when her heart was breaking from seeing him hurt. He had chosen to go with her on this journey to discover what to do with the locket. He had helped her when there was no one else to trust. He wouldn't be dying any time soon if she could help it.

He appeared too weak to get out of the car without help. She pulled a water bottle out of the back, uncapped it, and coaxed him to drink. She uncorked a small bottle of alcohol she had bought for later and spilled some onto his wound.

He gasped, flinching at the pain.

"I need to tell you something, Thalia. I'm running out of time."

"No. Don't talk like that, Matt. We'll get through this. I'm taking you to a hospital. You'll be fine once I get you there."

Thalia tried to keep her tears under control, but they stung the back of her eyes, threatening to pull forward and down her face. Why did they have to shoot Matt? They could have shot her, and she would've survived just fine. He was mortal and easily hurt.

Dammit, Ichiro was going to pay.

Matt reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. It was covered with blood, but she ignored it. "Don't cry, Thalia. It's okay. When you make it to Heaven, remember to look me up, all right? I just might be in the neighborhood up there, and it'd be nice to see you again. But I've got to tell you something first, and I don't have much time. Go back to my forge. I left a fireproof box hidden inside the bedroom chimney. Another of my mother's books is inside, but I didn't have time to smash it open before. I think it has more information in it about your locket. I don't think it was her journal, but she did write in the margins. I'm afraid she probably stole it from someone who knew something about the locket, but she could never decipher what was inside it. It did say that there is another realm and that there was a gate into Heaven from there. I want you to have it. Take it."

"God, no. Matt, you'll show me where it is yourself. Just hold on, okay?"

She pulled her phone out from her inside jacket pocket and typed "hospital near me" into the search engine. She hoped she wasn't in a dead zone. The small processing circle whirled around as it searched, the signal strength drifting between one bar and two. Turning back to the steering wheel, she tossed the car back into drive, peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the road, her fingers sticky with drying blood.

Please work, she begged it silently. Find me a hospital.

The nearest hospital was five miles away. She gritted her teeth and pressed the gas pedal harder, revving up the engine. What if Ichiro's men came after them at the hospital? It was possible, but hopefully they hadn't noticed they'd gotten Matt during the shootout. What if police questioned them? Matt had just admitted that he was a wanted man... how bad could it be? Could he have murdered someone?

She snuck a glance at him, but he was unconscious once more. There was no right answer to her concerns except to get him help, maybe in secret, or even by force. How easy would it be to find a surgeon to work on him in secret until she could sneak him out of the hospital? Maybe she could get him help and break him out later? That might be better. Or maybe....

She sighed, grabbed his wallet, and flipped through it, looking for his ID. She smiled at the name on the card. Of course, being a wanted man, he'd already have his fake identity all set up. He made weapons for powerful people. She had to assume everything would check out if they investigated it. After all, it had been good enough to get him past the security checks at the airport.

But what if they took fingerprints and discovered who he really was? Maybe she could help him with that. She'd have to cause him more pain, but they wouldn't be able to identify him afterward. The discomfort was better than the alternative of letting them arrest him and lock him up in a place where she wouldn't be able to save him. He'd never be able to return to his forge to salvage whatever was left if the cops got ahold of him.

With her mind made up, she slowed the car as they entered a town. She spotted the hospital, pulled into the nearest parking spot, and shut the engine off.

"Matt! Hey, Matt, wake up. Please wake up."

She tried to rouse him, but he wouldn't come around. She groaned. Maybe it was better that he was out of it while she did what she had to do.

"Okay, Matt, I apologize in advance for this, but I have to do it." She grabbed his hands, bloody and sticky from pressing on his wound, and laid them palms up on his lap. He remained unconscious and would hopefully not feel a thing. Breathing in deeply, she grabbed the dagger she had stuffed into her boot, held it between her hands, and ignited the blade with a spell, whispering the words into the cool night air. The dagger crackled and burned white hot for a moment. The flames died away, leaving the blade a bright orange-red color, like a branding iron. She held up Matt's hands and began pressing it against the pads of his fingers, causing the flesh on his skin to sizzle and blister, obliterating his fingerprints.

The moment she pulled the dagger away, she began to chant the words of another spell. The skin began to heal, slowly at first, but quickly enough that there would only be residual pain in the area and no sign of the burning. The scalded fingertips began to reform, new shapes appearing. When she was finished, he had all new—and untraceable—fingerprints.

Before the blade cooled, she pulled away the T-shirt and inserted the tip into the small hole. The flesh sizzled until she pulled it away, hoping it would stop the bleeding long enough for a surgeon to remove the bullet and stitch him up. That's when she realized Matt was bleeding from his head.

Jumping up onto her knees, she turned his head slowly and found a tiny flesh wound at his temple, leading into his hairline. He'd been hit by another bullet, but it appeared to have ricocheted off his skull. No wonder he was so drowsy and out of it. Beneath that small wound, his brain was swelling.

"Oh, crap!" she cursed, fighting back her panic.

Matt snapped awake, inhaling a sharp breath and jumping in his seat, staring at her with wild eyes. "Geezus! What did you do?" He pressed his hand to his wound but then pulled it away, staring in horror at his still-red fingertips. "Why do my hands hurt? It smells like barbeque in here."

"I cauterized your wound and magically changed your fingerprints. You still need the bullet removed and a blood transfusion, but they won't know who you really are. You need a CT scan of your head too. You were hit by a bullet, but it didn't get that far. Still, you have a head injury. Come on, let me get you inside."

Matt groaned and began to roll his eyes back into his head once more. Moving him without his help was damn near impossible. She gave up, jumped out of the car, and sprinted inside for a wheelchair. A nurse with mousey brown hair and overly large glasses yelled at her when she snatched one up from the hallway near the registration desk, but she paid no attention. Returning to the car, she dragged Matt out and propped him into it. He was delirious, drifting in and out of consciousness.

His injury had stopped bleeding, but he'd lost too much blood to function. His pallor concerned her, and as she wheeled him in, he passed out cold once more. She urged the triage nurse to admit him immediately, which, fortunately for Matt, she did after one look at him.

Once he was surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses, Thalia retreated into the waiting room and headed straight to the bathroom, where she rinsed off as much blood as she could from her hands and jacket. At least the jacket was leather and wiped off easily, but her shirt beneath it was ruined.

When she'd finished, she zipped up the jacket to cover the bloodstains and returned to the waiting room. There, she filled out the stack of paperwork the nurse shoved at her, using the pseudonym she'd read off Matt's ID. After she handed it back, the nurse eyed her suspiciously as she retreated to a chair to wait. The woman returned to her computer desk and picked up the phone, tossing furtive yet fearful glances Thalia's way.

The police were being notified, which she knew would happen, but she'd hoped they'd wait a bit longer so she could have news of Matt's condition. It didn't look good for her to linger, so she waited for the nurse to turn away before slinking out through the emergency room doors. She would return for Matt later, when he was more stable, but for now she had to find a motel off the beaten path where she could clean up and get some sleep. Being immortal didn't give her a free pass from resting, but she did have more endurance than mortals. She'd wait for Matt to get better then break him out when he was cleared. Luckily, if they fixed him up, they'd force him to walk as soon as he was able.

Hospitals didn't mess around nowadays. Years ago, they'd take weeks to discharge a patient. Now they needed empty beds and would boot patients out if they weren't actively dying. It was a sad, cold fact, but one Thalia was suddenly thankful for.

She found a nearby motel, hidden behind several office buildings, and decided to pay for the room with cash so no one could trace her credit card. It had a false name on it—her Californian waitress cover—but she couldn't be too careful. She just hoped the desk clerk wouldn't get suspicious about it. He was an older gentleman whose soft smile calmed her frantic heart. He seemed interested in her weary appearance but didn't ask questions as he handed her the room key and bid her a good night. The fewer questions, the better.

She hoped Ichiro's men weren't keen on finding her immediately, or there'd be no rest for either her or Matt. In the meantime, as she locked the grungy motel room door behind her, she relished the silence of the darkened space. She didn't have to turn on the lights to know where the bed was. She could see well enough in the darkness, better than any human. She threw her jacket onto a chair beside the bed, tossed the blood-soaked shirt onto the dresser, and kicked off the heavy boots squeezing her feet before slipped beneath the bleach-scented sheets. Curling up into the pillows, she fell instantly to sleep, her mind dreaming of beacons and labyrinths she swore she'd never seen before but knew by heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two

They were going to keep Matt for at least several days. He was in an induced coma, which could continue for a week or more once they decided to wean off the barbiturates and paralytics.

It was too risky for Thalia to stick around with all the cops crawling all over the hospital. After the first visit, seeing him became nearly impossible. She had no doubt they'd discovered the scene of the firefight on Theroniel's property and suspected he'd somehow been involved. Fishing his chart out of the nurse's station had been easier than visiting his room, with a cop perched at the doorway, reading a newspaper and eating Matt's untouched hospital food.

Sitting in the small waiting room of the ICU, she tapped her foot, her nerves fried. Thinking of leaving Matt was driving her mad. She didn't want to. She couldn't. Never in her life had she felt more panicked and trapped at the same time. How could she move him when he was so ill? There was no way to do it without causing him harm. Mortals were so fragile, a concern she hadn't thought about in years. What worried her more was Matt waking up by himself in the middle of the hospital room without any familiar faces to reassure him. But she couldn't easily get past the stupid guard squatting at the nurse's station. Even when she could sneak past him for quick peeks and words with Matt's silent figure, she was always in and out, afraid to get caught. All she needed was a cop to run her ID. Even though it'd come back clean, she knew she'd be questioned, and that was just unacceptable.

She paced the waiting room, which was empty at this time of the early morning. Suddenly, an idea slipped into her mind, and it felt like a weight had been removed. She'd leave him a letter. The nurses couldn't open a private letter left for Matt. It was the perfect way to communicate with him once he woke up and still get away so the Yakuza wouldn't find her at his side. He'd remain safe and get informed the moment he awoke.

It was brilliant, and she'd wished she thought of it earlier. She grabbed some copy paper and a pen from the nurses' desk. No one ever noticed her; the poor nurses were overworked and continually short staffed enough that they rarely visited the desk. The constant ringing of the phone and lost families visiting was a problem. She wished they could have more help, but it worked to her advantage at the moment.

Back in the waiting room, she spent a few moments trying to come up with the right words, crumbling up sheet after sheet when they wouldn't come. Finally, after much excruciating thought, she'd gotten what she needed to tell Matt down on paper. She folded it and stuffed it into an envelope, writing the name of Matt's alter ego on the outside. Inside, she'd stuck to initials so only he would know who was writing. She hoped he got it. There was always a chance the police would open it, but there was nothing incriminating in it.

Dear M.,

I'm headed back to the big city. I couldn't wait anymore. Please call me when you get better, and I'll update you on everything. Get better soon, miss you already.

~T.

She slipped it onto his bedside table beneath a small vase of flowers she'd brought to decorate his room. Pressing a tiny kiss to his forehead as he slept, she felt her heart lurch once more.

"Goodbye, Matt. I'll see you soon."

Heading back to New York City without him felt odd. She'd gotten used to his company; his presence was comforting. Using spells, she cleaned out the blood in the rental car before returning it and hopping onto a plane back to New York. It was a bittersweet return.

Once back in town, she avoided her apartment, knowing Ichiro's men were probably watching it. Instead, she took refuge in a daily prepaid room at a nearby hostel, where she could pay extra for a private room with her own space. There, she spent the day sleeping and trying to keep the pain out of her head. The chaos of the preceding days had taken a toll on her, and she forced fluids and food down her throat to restore her stamina. Immortality did not give her a free pass from getting sick, but it did stave off the more common human ailments.

Hiding there forever was not an option, though. She was tempted to run away. What would it be like to disappear again, without being tracked by archangels? A new life. Possibly with the opportunity for love? Would Matt run away with her? The thought of a life without murder, without worry, was a forbidden fruit. Life was never easy, nor would it ever be. Not for an immortal like her. It'd be best if she stayed as far away from Matt as she could. Maybe he could start over in some other town, away from this chaotic mess. At least he'd be safe and might even have a chance at love.

She stuffed her clothes into her pack, not really caring if they wrinkled or not. She had to find a laundromat soon; her blood-stained clothes were sitting in a plastic bag inside the backpack, fermenting. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Washing it in the public laundromat at the hostel was probably a big fat no. She couldn't risk anyone walking in and seeing them. Staying in one place too long was dangerous. Plus, she had to leave to get any decent food. Her stomach was already complaining from the diet of snack foods from the vending machine. She wanted to wait for nightfall, but if she didn't eat soon, she was sure her stomach would just start consuming her innards.

The thought made her chuckle as she ran a brush through her long, newly dyed locks. She'd chosen a red magenta color with a splash of deep blueberry purple to fit in with the punk scene on this side of town. Without bleaching, it came out dark but would lighten as the days went by. Her natural medium brown hair had to be changed if she didn't want to be noticed. Everyone had colored hair around these parts, where the young people sported hardware in their faces. She wasn't about to go that far, but her hair now fit in nicely as part of the fashion status quo. She tied on her shoes then grabbed her jacket and swung it over her shoulders.

Staring down at her backpack, she decided to return for it. First, she'd get some takeout, bring it back and eat, and then find a place to do laundry. Sighing, she made her way out of the hostel, which was quiet at this hour. Most people were out for dinner, but teenagers and young adults filled the place when it got late. Luckily, most of them were good at turning a blind eye to one another. She kept her head low and tried to make sure she didn't stand out in any way. There was no telling who might be desperate enough to point her out to any of Ichiro's men who came lurking about.

There was a burger joint around the corner. Perfect. She could use some rich sustenance. If she loved anything about being immortal, it was the fast-burning metabolism. She could consume whatever she liked. On the downside, she was constantly hungry.

"Burgers it is," she mumbled to herself as she pulled open the restaurant door.

Chapter Twenty-Three

After grabbing her order of two double bacon cheeseburgers and large curly fries, she dashed out of the restaurant to return to the hostel. Staying at the burger joint would leave her open as a target. She hated eating alone inside her room, but it'd be the only way she could feel less apprehensive and know she'd be left alone. A few doors away from the hostel, a wall of three men blocked her way.

"Great," she muttered. Can't even get home to eat in peace. Just lovely. She crinkled the top of her food bag and calculated how she could fight the men without ruining her dinner. She merely placed it next to a fire hydrant near her feet before facing the warriors. "Get on with it already."

The one on the left approached first, swinging a large katana in exuberant circles, showing off his skills. Thalia rolled her eyes. The newly trained ones always had to be the center of attention. They usually went down the quickest.

She grabbed the angel-killer blade she'd stuffed discreetly beneath her jacket, unsheathed it, and slammed it against the katana, shattering the blade. The guy's hardware was cheap. Probably got swindled by some knock-off vendor.

"You're going to have to try a bit harder than that," she snickered, bending her fingers to beckon them forward. The guy backed away, heaving hard and bewildered at his broken sword. Did they not know she lived for the fight and would decimate them? This was kindergarten stuff to her. These guys weren't even immortals. Shame. She had some pent-up frustration to vent off, and this would be over far too soon.

Another Yakuza closed in, his daggers flashing in the fading light of dusk. The streets were quiet, but many people who were passing by hurried to cross the street, away from them, or turned back the way they had come. Funny how people talked about helping victims all the time, but when it came down to it, most of them ran away. There were a few teens from the hostel nearby, perched on its steps and cheering them on. They'd already pulled out their phones and were filming the fight to post on their social media accounts later, or worse, live-streaming the darn thing.

Great. Social media. The plague of the twenty-first century. At least the poor lighting wouldn't be to their advantage. The sun had set, and the looming buildings above had darkened the streets even further. Still, to her immortal eyes, it was as bright as day. Too bad it wouldn't help these guys one bit.

The dagger guy missed. She shoved at his shoulders as he sailed by, slamming his face into the nearest wall. The third guy was already on her, beating his batons on her forearm and efficiently blocking her sword strikes. He was good, she had to admit. Where the others' vanity had done them in, this one was far more cautious, and he'd waited to take her on last.

"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to hit people?" she snapped. She found an open spot and kicked at his knee, but it wasn't enough to knock him down. He hardly felt it. Adrenaline numbed the pain, she knew that, but from the look in his eyes, she was sure he was high on something else. She spun the sword around in an arc, slamming into his wrist with the flat side and sending one of the batons flying.

He didn't miss a beat, dropping the second baton as he pulled out a short sword which had been strapped to his back. He went on the offensive, bringing the blade down on hers again and again. The metal clanged loudly, ringing in her ears as she grunted, shoving back at her attacker. The guy had brawn for sure, and whatever other enhancements he'd procured. Warriors for archangel sects were known for downing concoctions of all sorts to up their game during a fight. She'd just never run into one that worked this well.

She bunted the man on the chin the moment she saw an opening. He toppled backward, landing on his back, but rolled onto his feet once more and glared at her with dark red eyes. Blood was starting to seep from the corners of his mouth and eyes. Come to think of it, his growing pallor was starting to look less than human.

So whatever enhancement he'd taken before the fight, it didn't last long. It would literally kill him after his manic rampage. Damn. Ichiro's men were serious. The Yakuza leader was getting bold now, sacrificing his subpar fighters in one last stand against her. No one could ever tell her their boss was worse than him.

"Was it worth it?" she asked, approaching the fighter as he began to chuckle. His laugh grew louder and louder as his skin began to swell.

"You're going to die, and there's nothing you can do about it. Was it worth serving Ichiro to the death? Seems like such a waste."

Thalia backed up as he continued to laugh hysterically, more blood dripping from his orifices as the swelling continued. The guy was going to blow, wasn't he? She glanced at the other two warriors; the one knocked out was swelling up too. The one left upright was on his knees, choking on his own blood now that the drug had run its course, his neck bulging out like a frog's.

"Crap!" she cursed under her breath, realizing this wasn't going to end well. She side-stepped the man on the ground, scooped up her bag of food, and began to run toward the hostel. "Run! They're going to explode! Get out of here!"

She waved at the teens nearest the fighters, and they began to scramble to get away. Some dove in through the hostel doors while others ran out into the street and around building. She chose the hostel. She ran in, shoved the door closed behind her, and locked it. Luckily, the lobby had no windows, and the door was reinforced metal, for a moment later, she heard the thwap of body parts hitting the walls and door outside.

Breathing in and out, she groaned. That was going to be a disgusting mess to clean up. Making a mental note to take the back way out, she sprinted up the stairs, avoiding the curious looks of the teens who'd jumped into the building before her and who were attempting to take her picture. Her cover was blown, and she had to get out of there fast.

Once in her room, she scooped up her backpack, thankful she'd packed it before heading out earlier. Her dinner was going to have to be eaten on the go. At least it was nighttime, and she could blend into the evening crowd with ease. She needed to get out of New York City; it was too dangerous, and even though it was a big city, it wasn't big enough for her and the Yakuza.

Cloaking her sword with magic once more, she headed out into the crisp night air. Matt's place wasn't far away, but she took an indirect route, regularly glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed.

Before getting too close to the forge, she spent a few minutes eating her burgers and scoping the place out to make sure no one was there waiting for her, especially not Ichiro's men. There were no signs of activity in or near the building. The doors and windows on the first floor had been boarded up due to the fire, but the exterior walls looked mostly intact. The structural damage looked minimal. Fortunately, it was made of hard brick and masonry, which took the heat well and had lasted the abuse of the forges inside. With a good scrubbing and a coat of paint, the place could be salvaged.

Relief breathed through her at the thought that Matt would have something to come home to. It was all still there, just a hot mess otherwise.

She hoped no one had emptied out the building. Looters were everywhere, but the boards across the doorway and windows appeared intact and untouched, probably placed there by the cleanup crew who hadn't found an owner but couldn't leave it open to thieves. Hopefully vandals hadn't made it past those and snuck in to steal any valuables Matt owned. Or any of his tools. Luckily, most his stuff was made of heavy metal, far too heavy to steal.

Seeing no sign of Yakuza, she slid past a gap in the boards, making her way inside. The place felt abandoned, still smelling of soot and smoke, but to her surprise, it was in pretty good shape. Once Matt got better, it'd be easy to repaint and fix the areas damaged by the fire. It'd just take a bit of elbow grease.

She went up the stairs. The fire had not quite reached Matt's apartment, and she checked it for any damage. The walls were made of fire-resistant red brick, and most of the fire had been contained to the bottom floor, leaving the apartment intact. She did have to pick a lock to enter. Slipping inside, she listened intently, hoping nobody was waiting for her.

Thalia halted, feeling the hairs on her neck stand on end. There was someone already there, waiting in the darkness, but instead of remaining in the shadows, the figure stepped out into the moonlight. Thalia shrugged off her backpack and held her sword in her hand, ready to strike the intruder down. She stepped back as the outline made it obvious the stranger was dressed like one of Ichiro's warriors. Where there was one, there could be others. She couldn't rush forward blindly.

Thalia lifted her sword at arm's length and waited for man to move first. She could now see that the black-clad shape was clearly male. The figure took another step forward and held out a katana. Thalia gripped her sword more tightly as her opponent moved again. Deciding to go for it, she ran toward him, ready to swipe the razor-sharp edge of her sword against his chest. She didn't want to kill him, not yet. She wanted information. She needed to know what Ichiro was up to.

The guy grunted, bending enough to avoid her swing, and managed to shove at her side, slamming her into the nearby wall. Her breath rushed out from her lungs and felt like someone had twisted her insides. Blinking back the pain squeezing her chest, she turned, readjusting her hands on the hilt of the sword before lunging and swinging at him again.

This time she managed to slice through the dark material across his chest. He jumped back, groaning, but he didn't check to see if he'd been cut. If she'd gotten him, he'd be screeching, but it was obvious he'd managed to avoid the edge of her blade well.

"I'm not here to fight you," the stranger stated in a calm, leisurely voice, as though he was just having a Sunday morning chit-chat over coffee. "You should know by now that I'm not your enemy. I just want to talk."

Thalia scowled. She'd never heard the voice before, but the silhouette reminded her of someone she'd encountered. "I'm not here to talk."

"I can see that."

She swung again, but he blocked her. Again, and again, the blades swiped and matched each other's momentum. The guy had studied her fighting techniques, of that she felt sure. How did he know what she'd do next? Was she so predictable? Was he an immortal? He didn't have wings and didn't appear to have any magic; she would've sensed it. One thing was for sure, she would wear him out, for he was nothing but a mere mortal.

Then the moon shined through the tall warehouse windows, hitting his facial features as he came into the light, highlighting dark eyes and a head full of straight, jet-black hair. At some point during the fight, he'd pulled off the mask covering his head and face. Raking her eyes down his silhouette, she knew exactly who it was standing in Matt's living room. She just didn't know his name yet.

"You! Why are you following me?"

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I didn't follow. I merely waited here for you. I noted it as one of the places you might turn up."

"But you were following me before?"

"Yes."

"I could have used some help earlier, you know."

He broke her gaze, but only briefly. "I apologize. Ichiro called me away on another matter. I am not yet ready for him to learn the truth about me, so I was obligated to obey. When I saw the mess on the street outside the hostel, I knew what had happened and came here directly. I arrived mere minutes before you. I saw you through the window, watching the building."

She bit her lip, debating whether or not to sheathe her sword. There was no way of telling if he was her enemy or not. Yes, he'd helped her before, but maybe he'd had his own reasons. He couldn't be trusted; he'd already betrayed his last master. What would stop him from stabbing her in the back if she let him get too close?

He eyed her as well while she waited for his response, his gaze mimicking hers, taking her in. She kept an eye trained on him while reaching to snap on a small hallway lamp to see him better. It would allow him to get a better look at her too, which she thought would be good if he was going to be helping her out; he ought to know who he was dealing with.

She hoped the electricity was still on and felt relieved when the hallway flooded with light. The rear side of the building must not have been touched by the fire either if the wiring was still intact. This knowledge made her wonder if Matt had hired someone to cast anti-fire spells on the building. It would make sense, given the line of work he was in.

"And why exactly have you been following me?" she inquired.

"I thought Ichiro had been lying when he said the key had turned up. But ever since seeing you in the flesh, I knew it had to be true."

"How so?"

He tilted his head toward her and reached out to place his katana on the small table with the lamp, making a show of disarming himself. He unstrapped another blade from his belt. Once he was done, he held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I grew up in a specialized keep where I was told of a key which could open a fourth realm. From there, one could enter into Heaven, with or without salvation. They don't have to be righteous or just. They only had to possess the key. I failed to realize it wasn't just an object, but a person. Once I discovered this, I knew I had to keep the ward safe, but I knew not who she was."

Thalia listened intently, her eyes widening. "The key is also a person? How do you know who it is?"

"I didn't know it was you. Not at first. When Ichiro became obsessed with hunting you down, I knew we'd been shown who the ward was. Those in the holy keep were left no choice but to betray his trust and turn against the rest of his warriors to keep you safe. We worked for Ichiro, but we were not under his direct command."

Thalia didn't know whether to laugh or scream. How could there be an entire order dedicated to keeping the key safe? Could she be this key? He was joking, right?

"You've got to be kidding me. How's that even possible? I don't need anyone keeping me safe, but I do want to thank you for helping us out back in Utah. I don't know anything about this stupid fourth realm or even if the key even works, so how would anybody else know anything about it? How do you guys know about it?"

The warrior stepped forward and kneeled, eliciting a stunned expression from Thalia. She gasped and took a step backward, surprised by his actions.

"Wh—what are you doing? Get up!"

"My name is Isao, and I'm the leader of the Key Protectorate. We have books about the fourth realm from those who've been there. We are descendants of those who have sworn to protect the realm at all costs, and many of us have the markings of the maze on our bodies; birthmarks. Some of us are the descendants of servants who were released and returned to Earth hundreds of years ago. We are but half-bloods, for our lineages are not those of immortals. You are the only full-blooded Skein inhabitant I've ever met. We are mixed with human blood, so we've no magic to use the key to enter the realm. If we wish to return to the mother realm and learn more about our heritages, we must protect the keeper of the key, for you're the only one who can open the gate and live. It's prophesied that you'll lead us all back home. In the meantime, please accept my protection and help in finding the realm. We have a map to it, and I will gladly show it to you, but first I must confirm that you have the relic with you."

"Why?" Thalia asked, suspicious of his intentions.

"It's also prophesied that the keeper will display the relic at her chest, to keep the trust of her comrades. Just a formality."

It sounded like a trick. Thalia was through playing games. "I'll show you the locket everyone keeps calling a key, but I'm not giving it to you, got it? If you try to take it, I'll fight you for it."

"It stays with you at all times, Lady Thalia. It's only a courtesy to your servants. We have no desire to unseat the locket from the Imperial Keeper."

"Don't call me Lady Thalia. Thalia will be fine."

He gave her a curt nod. "As you wish, Thalia."

His deep, oily-black eyes held her gaze for a moment before she looked away. He made her feel odd and gave her a fluttering feeling in her stomach. No one had ever looked at her as intensely as Isao did, as though he worshipped the ground she walked on. It was augmented by the way he held his body, hunched and subservient. All his movements told her he was not there to fight but to talk civilly. He was clearly not a threat, but he was misinformed. She wasn't important. Even so, it was nice to think she might have found another person who was on her side.

She reached up to her neck and pulled the locket out from under her shirt, holding it closer to the shining light of the lamp. The metal flashed, brightly enough so that Isao could see she wasn't bluffing about having it.

A few moments passed before he grinned, which looked unnatural because she'd never seen him smile. There was always a serious, stoic-like mask on his face, just like the rest of Ichiro's men. It was pleasant, warming her middle as she tucked away the locket, using the movement to hide the heat rising to the surface of her skin. She didn't know what to say. They were not enemies, and they were far from being friends, so what did this make them?

"Is that all you came for?" she asked.

"No. Not just that."

Of course not, she thought. Things always had to be complicated.

"I'm at your disposal." He rose and bowed. "Please let me know if I can help in any way. I suggest you don't return to your apartment. Ichiro's men are posted there, waiting for you."

She nodded. She already knew that information but saw no point in discussing it further. Turning on her heels, she headed toward the bedroom fireplace where the journal Matt's mother had hid within the walls should still be found. Peering around, she spotted a stray mallet that Matt had inexplicably left there. His tools were strewn all over the building. After putting away her sword, she gripped the hammer in both hands.

"What are you going to do with that?" Isao asked, shuffling to catch up with her.

"If you must know, there's a journal hidden inside the chimney. I need it." She paused, studying Isao as he watched her curiously. "With all your knowledge of the fourth realm, how do you not know Matt's mother was a witch who held some information about it?" Her eyes gleamed under the moonlight pouring in from the high, arched windows. Isao pressed his lips together, appearing confused.

"Witches do not associate with the Protectorate."

"I see."

That made sense. Of course, they would think it was beneath them to associate with half-breed mortals who had no magic in their bodies. Witches were solitary, elusive creatures. Their history with getting persecuted for their gifts had plenty to do with it.

She prepared to swing, but the mallet slipped from her hands as she lifted it over her shoulder. Spinning around, she found Isao holding it.

"Let me do this." He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it onto the bed, and stepped forward. "Stand back," he advised before swinging the mallet hard against the bricks of the chimney.

Thalia crossed her arms but didn't argue. It gave her a chance to observe just how strong Isao was. It was important to know the abilities of friend and enemy alike. Ereziel had taught her that.

Isao heaved the mallet again, his muscles flexing with each movement. She couldn't help but notice the striations of well-formed muscle. He was in great shape and lacked any kind of fat on his lean body. He probably spent every free moment training, which was good because the bricks did not crumble easily.

"What is in this journal?" he asked between strokes.

"I don't know exactly, but it apparently has some information about the locket. Matt kept it hidden from prying eyes because he didn't trust anyone. He told me he read something about a locket key and another realm in this journal before sealing it up. He didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands."

Another thud followed as Isao slammed the mallet again and again, chipping away at the bricks of the chimney. His arms had to be numb from the effort. "Dammit, there's another layer of brick behind this one."

"Let me see that." Thalia seized the mallet and began pummeling away.

Isao's humanity was his undoing. Her immortal strength would have to complete the task, but even then, it wasn't easy and took a good deal of her strength.

Once she was through the second layer of brick, she pried out a metal, fire-proof box and held it up. She searched the drawers of the room until she found a small screwdriver and jimmied the lock. It wasn't long before she was holding the journal in her hands.

She pocketed the small book. It wasn't large and fit into her jacket pocket well. Isao didn't ask to see it, which was a relief. As she walked out of the room without cleaning the mess, she heard Isao grab his jacket and begin following her. He didn't have much to say about the fourth realm for now, which made her wonder just how much his people knew about it. If Isao was right and he knew the way to the Skein, what would be waiting on the other side when they made it there?

As she reached to flip the light off, she hoped nobody had seen it while they'd unearthed the journal. This room's windows faced the alley, and they hadn't noticed anyone around the building, but somebody still could've been watching. They weren't safe here.

Thalia sighed as she hopped down the stairs, not waiting for Isao as he scrambled to retrieve his weapons. She'd find out what was waiting for them in the Skein eventually. It looked like she'd have to enter the realm no matter what. Everything was leading her in that direction. Maybe she'd finally get what she wanted, to be with her family again. Maybe, after all this time, she'd find some peace.

"Looks like I have some reading to do," she noted, inhaling deeply and feeling more elated than ever. "But first I want to do a sweep of the perimeter." She turned to find Isao smiling as he nodded in agreement. She hoped he really was on her side in all this. If not, it'd be a damn shame.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Have you found anything useful in the witch's book?" Isao asked.

Thalia shrugged. She wasn't sure there was anything new in it, but hopefully it had something about the Skein Realm and how to get through the gate. She unseated the leather tie and flipped through it again. Dust billowed up into her face, throwing her into a coughing fit as she waved her hand to clear the air. From the slight upturn of his lips and the twinkling in his eyes, Isao apparently found it amusing.

"Stop it. I have allergies."

"An immortal with such petty human issues."

She frowned at him and rolled her eyes before stuffing the book back into her jacket to read later. She turned to leave.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Isao asked.

"I'm actually not too sure." She looked around at what remained of Matt's workshop. "I can't stay here; Ichiro's men might come looking for me. You found me here, so it's obviously on the radar. I need to find a place to sleep for the night. I can't go back to the hostel. It was gross and noisy anyway." She yawned, stretching her bones. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

"We can go to my place," Isao suggested. "Ichiro doesn't know where I live. I've never taken anyone there, as there never was a need. I believe it's pretty safe."

Thalia paused. She turned around to peer at Isao, lifting an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn't expected him to offer such a private sanctuary for her to stay the night. Could she trust this stranger? Would he slit her throat while she slept? His presence had only added to the number of questions in her mind, and it was all starting to weigh on her.

"It's a generous offer but—no offense—I don't know you, and you don't know me. How do you know I won't slit your throat while you sleep?" she asked, snickering.

He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"I know you're not the kind of person who slits a sleeping man's throat. Your intentions are always honorable and noble. I know the only ones you kill are the wicked... those who've hurt good people and worship demons and money. Trust me, this isn't the only time Ichiro has taken an interest in mercenaries like yourself. He's watched you closely over the years. The archangels usually take it upon themselves to know about their competition. Being in Ereziel's service, you were considered a threat. We were assigned to watch you occasionally. I know your habits, your routines, your likes and dislikes, and from what I gleaned, you're not the kind of person who slits throats in the middle of the night."

Thalia's mouth dropped open. She didn't know if she was impressed or disgusted. He'd already shown her his character, and he was also not the type to slit her throat unexpectedly. When she'd snuck into Matt's forge, he could have offed her at any time. But he hadn't. He'd also aided their escape from Theroniel's house in St. George. It had to count for something, right?

She glanced around the room, feeling queasy from the mounting uncertainty. He'd given her no reason to distrust him. For now, she'd sleep with one eye open, but it could work out. Ichiro would not think to look for her in the home of one of his own ninjas, after all.

Resolute, she took his hand.

"Okay. Lead the way."

Isao's apartment wasn't far from hers. It was practically in the same neighborhood. It was kind of discouraging to know her enemies could be lurking so close by without her knowledge. How had she been so blind to what was happening around her? She made a mental note to be far more observant of her surroundings from now on. Maybe he'd been the watcher on the roof of the building across from hers. Maybe he had some hidden feathers beneath that ninja garb.

She groaned internally. Letting her mind run amok wouldn't help. She had to keep it together. He couldn't have any wings beneath his skin-tight outfit. He had to move fast, and wings weren't easy to hide unless he'd bespelled them, but even then, why hide them except from humans? There was no reason to keep them tucked away from her. For now, the gray-winged angel would have to remain a mystery.

"How long have you lived in New York City?" she asked, trying to shove away the unpleasantness in her stomach.

"I've lived here my entire life. It is where I was born," he answered. "My father immigrated here when he was a teenager and started his own business selling rare indigo-dyed fabrics for clothing and other household items. He made sure all his sons had training in ninjutsu and made us practice day and night until we perfected our fighting skills so we could serve the Protectorate. Besides that, I had a pretty normal American childhood."

Thalia chuckled to herself. A normal childhood? Up until her seventeenth year, she could say she'd had a normal childhood too, but after everything that had happened after her parents' deaths, she didn't know what normal meant. She wasn't certain about anything anymore. For all she knew, the memories could have been implanted in her head. Everything might be a lie.

There went her imagination again. She should just give up and become a writer or artist already, she mused, chuckling. It'd be a better use of her wild thoughts.

"Why do you laugh?" Isao asked, his expression trained and steady.

"I was thinking... after everything that's been going on, how many of my memories are true and how many were planted there? Nothing has made any sense lately. This could all be a dream, or we could all be in the Skein Realm already. I heard it's unusual and that things are more magical there than here on Earth. You know anyone who's been there?"

Isao shook his head as they made their way to a modest, old building built of red brick. It looked like an old schoolhouse turned into apartments. The neighborhood didn't look much better than hers, worn and tattered from the years. Graffiti covered some buildings while others remained boarded up. The streets were filled with debris piling up in the gutters, as though civilization had already abandoned this precinct.

"Well, if this isn't real, there won't be much to worry about, will there? This is it." He unlocked the front door, letting her in before closing it behind them and setting the lock once more. For such a crappy neighborhood, the front door's lock was a fancy digital contraption that scanned his fingerprint. She found herself in a tiny foyer before a set of steep, narrow steps. She let Isao pass her and followed behind, taking the steps two at a time, just like he had.

At the top of the steps was a single apartment door which he unlocked. After they'd entered, he locked this one behind them as well. Wary and suspicious, she kept one hand on her sword. But nothing happened. In fact, she was surprised the evening had passed without further incident, especially since she was being hunted by Ichiro's men. They didn't give up easily, and she felt almost cheated they had let her off without another fight. Her blood burned for more action, especially after the short scuffle with the men who'd exploded. It had left her hungry for more.

"Nice place you got here," she commented. Small talk wasn't really her thing but filling up the empty space with words helped calm her nerves.

"It's comfortable. I'm rarely here, so there's no point in getting a bigger or nicer place. It's efficient and has enough space to train, sleep, and spend my downtime."

"You don't have a family, do you?" Thalia asked.

Isao shook his head. "A family would be a hazard in this line of work. A liability. My family went back to Japan years ago, and I haven't had any contact with them. They know they'd be at risk if I did."

"No girlfriend? Children on the side?"

Why was she asking these questions? They were intimate and dug deeply into Isao's life. She didn't want to know these things. Still, it was better than standing in silence as she observed his sparse room. It was decorated in muted colors of brown, maroon, and black. The tall windows, which looked original to the building, were covered from top to bottom with thick shades that would keep the sun out during the day and keep the light in at night. Everything was arranged for maximum security and usability. Staring at the one bed against the wall, she wondered where they would both sleep tonight.

"No girlfriend or kids. I don't usually have time for relationships. Too busy, too dangerous. You probably know what I mean, right?"

Busy and dangerous was an understatement. Since her relationship with Ereziel, there hadn't been anyone significant. Dating was pointless. Relationships were burdens and liabilities.

"Yep," she answered, feeling the sting of the truth sear through her chest.

"I'll take the floor tonight. You can have the bed," he said.

"Okay. Thanks."

Glancing around the loft, Thalia noted a small kitchen table with a couple chairs. There was no leisure area with a TV and a couch to lounge on, no stereo or shelves of books. It was sparse, clean, and streamlined. It was as though no one lived there. Too clean. Too simple.

Her place was far more decorated than this. It made her miss her apartment, but at least she was safe. Isao had been telling the truth; he barely spent any time there.

"No TV?" She tried to sound disappointed even though she never watched any shows. Watching the tube took a certain amount of dedication which she just couldn't find in herself. Maybe it was the commitment that kept her away from it. Either way, she wouldn't miss not having one, but the lack of books was a true disappointment.

"Nope, I don't have one. Like I said, I'm never here. Why bother? Let me show you the rest of the apartment."

He headed toward a bathroom which was separated from the rest of the loft by a tall half wall which made it halfway up the vaulted ceiling. Regardless of its shortcomings, Thalia liked the place immediately. It felt like something she would own but without all the frills.

"Thanks for letting me stay here tonight."

"Absolutely."

Isao scrounged around in a closet next to the bathroom and turned back with a sleeping bag and pillow in one hand and an extra blanket thrown over his other arm. He walked over one of the workout mats he had leaning against a wall, knocked it down with his foot, and laid out a sleeping area.

"There's food in the fridge if you get hungry. And towels in the bathroom." He crossed back to the closet. "I don't have any women's clothing, but you may borrow these until you get some." He held out a shirt and a pair of shorts with an elastic waistband. Thalia took them, her cheeks blushing at the thought of wearing Isao's clothes since she had no other sleeping clothes of her own. All she had was the small bag of stuff she'd taken to St. George, but everything in it was dirty. How had he known?

She cleared her throat. "Do you mind if I use your washer and dryer? I have clothes in my backpack, but they're pretty dirty."

He waved his hand toward the bathroom, which seemed to hold a lot more than just a tub and toilet. "Of course, I don't mind. The washer and dryer are in the bathroom. Feel free to use them whenever you want."

"Thanks," she answered, pressing her lips together, apprehensive to use someone else's facilities. She'd been a hermit for far too long. It'd been ages since she'd used a laundromat in public, let alone someone's washer and dryer, but it was a relief to have it.

"Look," Isao said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm kind of beat. Chasing you around the world is a bit exhausting. You immortals just don't know when to quit."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I apparently wore Matt into a coma." Thalia frowned at the thought of her friend back in Utah. He was safer there than at her side.

Isao stripped off his shirt and lay down on the sleeping bag. He pulled the blanket over his body as he settled in, folded his arms behind his head, and then leaned back against them with his eyes closed. He sure didn't mess around, but she'd forgotten he wasn't an immortal like her and didn't last as long without sleep.

Exhaling, Thalia headed to the bathroom, tossed her dirty clothes into the washer, and dumped some soap in, hoping the bloodstains would wash out. This place was cozy, and she felt oddly at home. Usually she could sleep anywhere, but she'd never felt as comfortable as she felt here, with Isao. It made her wonder what else the ninja warrior knew about her life. He was mortal, human, fragile. But he wasn't as delicate as most humans and had been able to keep up with her on the journey across the States. She'd hardly slept since leaving Matt's side in the hospital. It was a wonder Isao wasn't dead on his feet from the endless pursuit.

After changing, she returned to the room and admired his silhouette. He was already deep asleep and snoring softly. She slipped under the covers of his bed. His faint scent lingered on the sheets, pleasant and arousing. It'd been far too long since she'd been intimate with a man. The baggage that came with relationships was a put-off, but the feel of someone's body next to hers was a relished memory. Sometimes at night she'd wake up from a dream, sweaty and disheveled, having awoken from the sweet embrace of a stranger, his ghostly, musky scent lingering. At those times, she imagined she could still feel his furious kisses, and an insatiable lust and deep longing would come over her.

But not lately. Lately, it'd been one man infiltrating her dreams, and he was by far the most untouchable. No one had made her feel the way Ereziel had, but in a few short days, Matt and Isao had each woken up something. They'd each lit an all-consuming fire within her, an insatiable, demanding inferno that she longed to quench.

Maybe that was why, after a few hours of sleep, she slipped off the bed and onto the mat with Isao. He did not rouse, but he let her burrow into his side and settle her cheek on his shoulder near his chest. The divine warmth and manly scent coaxed her back into a dreamless, restful sleep, the best she'd had in a very long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The morning was cold, but she was up early so Isao would not find her tucked in next to him. The guy could seriously sleep like the dead. She snuck into the bathroom to take care of her needs and dry her load of laundry. When she emerged, Isao was awake and already making food in the kitchen.

"Hey, how was your night?" she asked, hoping the chitchat would allow her to see if he was making enough food for two. He was.

"Good morning. I'm well rested, thank you. How about you?" He eyed her curiously, and she wondered if he'd noticed she'd fallen asleep next to him during the night. The moment she'd awoken, terror had seized her, and she'd scrambled to move before he realized what she'd done. If he had, he didn't mention it.

"Slept like a rock." She chuckled nervously as she grabbed one of two glasses of juice he'd set out. Gulping some down, she sat on a stool at the counter and watched him cook. No one besides her own father had cooked for her, but that had been so long ago. Watching Isao was kind of cathartic as she waited for her clothes to finish drying so she could change. Running a hand through her hair, she realized she needed a brush. She'd dragged a comb she'd found in the bathroom through the tangles in her hair, but it hadn't been quite enough for her long, magenta-red waves. It still felt mussed.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked Isao.

He tilted his head toward her, his expression still and serious before he shook his head and held out a plate. It was heaped high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fried potatoes. He followed that with a container of maple syrup along with a set of utensils before answering.

"You're right, I'm not a big talker. It's not really required in my line of work. I'm guessing it isn't required in yours either."

"That's right. I guess it makes for a quiet breakfast, doesn't it? Thanks for the food." She spoke softly while grabbing a fork and digging into the breakfast. Her stomach couldn't wait any longer, and she was sure to drool down her chin if she didn't eat.

Isao served himself a plate and then sat next to her at the counter, shoveling the food into his mouth as quickly as she had. He kept his head down and his eyes averted. Thalia was done before him and felt odd sitting there. Isao was still one of Ichiro's henchmen, even though he was on her side. Well, he wasn't really Ichiro's mercenary anymore since he'd betrayed him to protect her. What did that make them? Would he ever betray her too?

There were too many questions. Somehow, she just wanted this breakfast to never end, even though it had to.

She sighed, stood up, and took her dishes to the sink before grabbing the journals and plopping herself onto the bed. She could have sat at the small table, but she'd rather read in bed; it was a habit she couldn't deny. Isao chose the table to rummage through some of his own books, which she assumed were the texts of his organization, the Key Protectorate.

It was amazing how much revolved around the Skein Realm when she'd never heard of it before this week. She'd have to inquire about Isao's religion or whatever it was he was following. It made her curious yet filled her with dread about her own heritage.

After an hour of reading, Isao took a break to meditate, a ritual he performed each morning. At least, that's what he mumbled to her. She watched him slide to his knees and close his eyes, his back straight as a board. The look on his face was more serene than when he slept. Maybe he hadn't felt her curled up next to him on the floor last night. It'd be best if they forgot all about it. She didn't need another complication in her life. The fact of the matter was, she didn't know why she'd joined him on the floor. She wasn't sure she wanted to explain it to herself.

His silence and serenity made her wonder why she hadn't developed the habit to meditate each day too. As habits went, this was a good one to have.

"Isao?"

"Yes?" He didn't open his eyes.

"Why do you meditate?"

"It's centering. Plus, I'm so used to doing this, my day doesn't feel complete if I neglect it. You should try it sometime; empty your mind and clear your thoughts away. It helps you focus on the things which truly matter... the vital issues at hand which must be dealt with."

Thalia thought about this, pondering how right he was. Exhaling, she slipped down to the floor and sat cross-legged next to Isao, straightening her back and inhaling deeply before breathing out again while closing her eyes. Her mind immediately began to wander. Clearing it was difficult, but she pushed the thoughts out of her head as the seconds ticked by. She focused on breathing in and out with quiet exhalations.

Occasionally, something would break through—a thought about the journals Matt had given her, thoughts of Matt himself, Isao, and even thoughts of Ereziel and a time so long ago, when they had been close and so unlike the strangers they were now. She missed the times when they could speak about anything and were open to every aspect of one another. But these were different times, and they were barely even friends.

A stab of pain from remembering the past invaded her mind, surprising her with the intensity of it, making her heart hammer and her breath hitch. Isao's presence reminded her to breathe calmly, like him. He remained focused and still. Thalia inhaled once more, shoving every thought of Ereziel and Matt from her mind. Each memory slid off like raindrops on a windshield until everything was calm within her once more.

What felt like an eternity later, she heard Isao move, and she snapped out of her revelry, easing back into the present with a sweet, warm calmness inside.

Isao was slipping on a pair of shoes near the doorway. She struggled to her feet.

"Where are you going?" she asked, still feeling exhilarated from the meditation. It felt like she'd slept longer during those moments than the entire night or any other night of her life. She was going to have to add it to her routine and was glad Isao had showed her the proper way to meditate.

"Nowhere, but we do have things to do, and dressing helps me get in the mood to work. We need to scan all the books and pinpoint exactly where on the map the gate to the Skein labyrinth is located. After that, we will prepare supplies and travel there, possibly tomorrow."

"So, you know all about the entrance to the Skein, right? Do you know if we'll be able to return once we cross over?" she asked.

Isao turned to study her with a curious but somewhat worried look. "I don't know. I've never been there. But what I gather from the books I have read is that it will be difficult to return. But if you have the key, you may enter the realm of Earth, or the realm of Heaven, whichever you like, from the Skein. I cannot tell you if that is completely accurate information, though."

So, it would be an adventure for them both, she thought. Something new. Thalia liked adventure as much as she liked comfort and routine. At least she'd be taking this journey with Isao, whose presence was an antidote to anxiety if ever there was one. He continued to watch her, and she felt the blood rush to the surface of her skin. She averted her eyes; it was almost unbearable to look at him. Her body's response surprised her, but she couldn't let her guard down. She couldn't give in to these strong feelings for a man who was still a stranger.

For a stoic ninja, he tended to stare, his eyes lingering far too long than she was accustomed to. Infinite possibilities lingered within them, ones she'd love to explore. She wondered if it was normal for a ninja to come off so intense. Or was it that Isao's gaze idled a lot longer than he'd care to admit? Had he become familiar with the intimate details of her life while gathering intel? Did he feel like he already knew her? It could've felt like an intrusion, but she wasn't angry, nor did she feel threatened by this man. It awoke emotions inside that she had long ago tried to hide.

Little ever threatened her, and Isao was far from threatening. Immortals didn't really worry about death, not even when fighting. But love? Desire? Those were other, more dangerous, things to worry about.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Isao, look." She held out one of the leather journals she'd been flipping through and pointed at a crude, hand-drawn map. A tiny X pinpointed an area at the edge of Central Park which could possibly be one of three gates into the Skein Realm.

Isao peered over her shoulder and studied the map. He'd mentioned that he had a photographic memory, and she guessed he was imprinting the map into his mind for later. This was good, because she wasn't as great at remembering things like maps. Maybe they could help each other, especially since he was desperate to enter the Skein and learn about his culture more than she was.

She wouldn't even be there if she hadn't been so hasty in killing Ariuk, she thought. The memory made her frown, but she tried to hide it from Isao's scrutinizing gaze. If only Ariuk hadn't given her the stupid locket. But what if he hadn't? Then she wouldn't have known more about her heritage, nor would she have ever understood why her parents were in Heaven after they were killed, and she wasn't. Instead, she had woken up alone, scared, and without family. Immortal in a mortal world. Maybe somebody in the Skein would remember her family and could help her decipher why she had ended up in their custody when it was clear they were human, and she wasn't. Maybe they'd know why her family had subsequently fled back to Earth.

"Yes," he said after a moment. "This is the entrance to the Skein. It matches the one on the map in my books. It couldn't be just a coincidence; Matt's mother never saw any of my order's books. We'll go there tomorrow. It's at the edge of Central Park. I believe I know the place, behind a certain set of benches near the water."

Thalia nodded, swallowing down a lump of apprehension. They'd be leaving tomorrow, but it felt far too soon. Matt was probably still in a coma back in St. George, and she didn't want him waking up alone. What if he woke up and didn't know where he was or needed someone to remind him what was going on? What if someone took her letter before he could read it?

She wondered if returning to Earth would be easy or not. If it didn't go well, they could be stuck in the Skein without a way home.

"How long do you plan to be there?" she asked. She hoped it wouldn't be long, but then she didn't truly know what Isao was looking for.

"I don't plan to return for a very long time, but you'll be able to go back and forth as you please."

Thalia turned, her eyes widening at the statement. Isao avoided looking at her for once, a gesture that enraged her. "What? What do you mean by that?"

Isao brought his chair closer, a grim frown on his lips. "Look, I've grown up listening to the stories about the Skein. Going there isn't something I take lightly. Out of our entire order, I may be the only one to ever get this privilege. It's my duty to document everything I see and hear, for it may be the only record we have of the Skein after I return. I must take my time and get as much information about the realm as I can while we're there. But you'll have to promise to return for me when the time is right, or I'll be stuck there forever."

Thalia felt her rage growing inside. She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white and clenched her jaw until it ached. He couldn't leave her alone in all this. Not now.

"So, if I want to return within a couple days, you're not coming back with me?"

"No. I apologize, but I must be frank with my intentions. I am bound to protect you, and I will as long as we are in the Skein together, but this is the whole reason I'm going; to gather information."

"What if I can't return for you? What if some strange thing happens, or I lose the key?"

Isao pressed his lips into a firm line. His stoic mask returned. "Then I will be lost to the Skein. Forever."

Thalia turned away and flipped the book back open, staring hard at the pages as if she could light them on fire with just her eyes. She was just getting to know Isao, and the fact that he wouldn't be returning to Earth with her was devastating in a way she hadn't anticipated. She liked the guy and thought that if they'd met in another life or time, they would have gotten along better than most people. The passion and comradeship they could have shared... it was like dangling a carrot in front of her and snatching it away at the last minute. In the little time she'd known him, he'd become as vital as air. She already felt the same loss as when she'd lost her parents, and they hadn't even entered the Skein Realm yet.

"What do your books say about the Skein?" she asked, trying to recapture the calm she'd felt during her meditation. Since Isao had never been there and relied only on the scriptures, what made him believe that it existed? What made him so dedicated to the cause when it could all be a lie fabricated by his elders? And if it was all a lie, what was to become of them when they crossed? The unknown was always frightening.

"The Key Protectorate has been around for hundreds of years, and many of the stories about the Skein have been distorted by time. They were on the verge of becoming myths; many believed that the Protectorate would cease to exist before the passing of another generation.

"But then we received new knowledge. My grandfather met a stranger when he was very young. He was a full-blooded man of the Skein and had visited the labyrinth. He was powerful in ways my grandfather had never seen. He could return to the Skein at will, and he did not have to enter through the gate. He used what was called a veil as his portal, but no one else could do it. There was no one else on Earth like him. He took many human wives and had many offspring, but he discovered that his descendants did not possess his powers. They were greatly diminished by the mixing of blood, as were my ancestors.

"This man wrote down many things that he saw and heard from the Skein. This knowledge revitalized the Protectorate. It verified that the old stories were true and now augments the scriptures that we follow."

"So, in the scriptures, does it describe the layout of the place? Something we could use?" Thalia asked. There was no telling what would be on the other side or whether it still existed the way it had been described.

"Yes, but they also state that the land is an ever-changing, living maze. It is affected by the powers and abilities of the people who encounter it."

Thalia chewed on her lip, thinking on the words and wondering what she should ask. There were so many questions, but the answers only complicated things more. "So, I would affect the realm when I get there?"

He nodded, scratching his head as he studied her face. He reached down and plucked up a book before flipping through it and opening it up near the middle. She had not yet read through any of his books and looked on curiously.

He held it out to her, and she took it graciously. The book was old, but it didn't seem as old as the others. The pages were yellowed on the edges but not in the interior. There was no fraying or rips. She wondered if it had belonged to the man Isao's grandfather had spoken to him about.

She admired the smooth longhand which had been painstakingly inked on each page. Matt's mother's journals were similar, but this handwriting was different. From the condition of the book, it looked like it had been written around the same time as the journals.

She began reading the cursive longhand, taking in every detail of the labyrinth.

The beacons are lights that each wraith gives off, which shine into the sky. Only other wraiths can see them. They call to each other with a magnetism none can deny. A beacon can attract all creatures roaming the Skein. Beacons are usually deadly and can confuse their prey with hallucinations and realistic representations of inner desires or fears.

The Skein is unique to each person who lives there. If they are powerful, they can change the landscape and the sky if they wish. For those who lack magic, the place can be chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous. It is full of creatures who absorb energy from its inhabitants. They are long-forgotten monsters of the mind. With this energy, they are difficult to eradicate. If a magic user is unable to control them, they become powerful enough to affect the user and hurt them or those around them.

Humans were once abducted in large numbers and taken to the realm of the Skein for slave labor. They are protected by magic users who keep the energy vampires at bay. These entities can be wraiths and are called barons. They usually care for a clutch of servants as well as their own offspring. They are bound to the Skein and dedicate a certain percentage of their magic to keeping their kingdoms safe. If these barons do not do their jobs, the rogue beacons, or wraiths, can pick off workers, especially humans who have no power. They must be a part of a kingdom or die from a lack of magical protection.

It is common for humans to attempt to escape, but failure is a near certainty, for without the protection of a baron, they are helpless. Some may attempt to exploit the magic of a baron's offspring, a child who is not yet at full power. These youths are easier to control but remain unstable due to a lack of training. This is the only way humans can return to the realm of Earth without a baron's help.

"What does this mean?" Thalia asked, the blood draining from her face. Her fingers pressed hard into the book, leaving indentations in the paper. She drilled her eyes into Isao, who only confirmed her suspicions with his look of apprehension. He frowned, furrowing his brow.

"I believe you're a daughter of a baron. Your human parents kidnapped you so they could escape back to Earth using your power and magic before you were old enough to ascertain what was going on."

Thalia slipped down into the chair at the small kitchen table, staring at the book. How could this be? How could she not remember anything about her former life in the Skein? She still wasn't sure it was all true, but if anything was true, then maybe she did have a family waiting for her on the other side. Her real parents. She'd been used, abducted for her magic. How could they have done this to her? It was a betrayal of the worst kind.

Her parents had lied and withheld the truth from her all those years ago. They'd kept everything from her the entire time she'd spent with them, believing they were her kin. It was unforgivable. She'd been left in a world where she did not belong.

She inhaled sharply and looked up, her heart hammering madly in her chest. The air seemed to grow thin, but she slowed her breathing as best she could. She felt like screaming or beating her fist into a wall. Either way, it would resolve nothing.

"That explains it all. Everything I've ever known is a lie. It explains my parents' mortality and why they took me from the Skein." She frowned. "But it doesn't explain why Ereziel would keep this from me. He would've known who my parents were and where they'd come from. Angels know this stuff. Archangels know everything." She rubbed her temples, feeling the coming pain threatening to spill forward in a rush of tears. "Why would he lie to me too?"

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Isao placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I don't know, but I do know that you're going back. I swear I'll get you there. We'll learn more when we arrive. I promise."

She barely felt his touch. She had been numbed by the revelation. As much as she'd tried to deny it, this book confirmed everything she'd feared. She wasn't human and never had been. What the hell was she, then?

She spent the rest of the day going through Isao's books. The journals from Matt's mother seemed much less important now that she had direct information from the Key Protectorate. Even so, she read through them as well; they couldn't be too prepared. By the end of it, she was sick of reading about the Skein, and her stomach growled at the mere thought of food.

Isao jumped to his feet as though reading her mind. He snatched his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on.

"You stay here," he said. "I'll go grab some take-out. It's probably better if you're not on the streets. You can never be sure Ichiro's men aren't lurking around, searching for you. You're still a target, and an obvious one. You might think about dying your purple-red hair. It stands out like a beacon."

She glared at him. The word beacon was a sensitive issue for her now.

"I dyed it to fit in," she grumbled.

"Um... I'll be back. I doubt they have me on their radar."

"That's fine, I get it. No walking about for me. Some food would be great." She waved him off as he headed out. It was a relief to get some quiet time to herself, and she folded the clothes she'd neglected while researching all day. Once she finished, she flipped open her cell phone and decided to call the hospital in St. George. They refused to update her, but a nurse in the background yapped about her patient still in a coma. She hung up. She had the information she needed and felt somewhat relieved that Matt was still safe.

She sat back onto the bed and absentmindedly stared at the covered windows. The drapes were thick and separated her from the outside world. Never had she felt so claustrophobic in her life, but she remained where she was, knowing that showing her face could cause them to lose their sanctuary.

Walking around the apartment, she examined several weapons hanging on the wall. She plucked a pair of short blades off their hooks and began swinging them around until she was lost in a hypnotic dance, practicing moves she hadn't used in a while. She became so focused that she didn't realize Isao had returned and was watching her, entranced by her movements. Honed over years of practice and training, the dance felt more natural to her than breathing. Her body swayed as the metal gleamed beneath the loft's hanging pendant lights.

When she had finished, she could hear nothing but her own breathing. The exertion exhilarated her, and she felt at peace again, her riled thoughts already cast to the side. That was when she noticed Isao still watching her from the kitchen, sitting on a stool and clutching the bag of take-out food in his arms, afraid to make any noise as she trained.

"How long have you been sitting there?" she asked, grabbing the glass of water she had served herself not long before and throwing it down her dry throat.

"Long enough," Isao said. He placed the bag down and began opening containers. He held a couple out to her. "Hungry? I didn't know what your favorite dish was, so I took the liberty of choosing several common ones."

Thalia made her way to the kitchen counter and slipped onto one of the stools. "Thanks. I'm not picky. This'll be great."

She grabbed a couple containers of noodles and chicken and began popping some into her mouth, still breathing hard from exertion. Isao filled glasses of water for them both and began eating slowly, still watching her with his dark eyes. He never stopped watching her, giving off the feeling he wanted to say something but refrained. After a few moments of eating and drinking, she placed her food down and wiped her face with a napkin, unable to ignore the feeling much longer.

"Just say it already." She dropped the napkin on the counter with a huff.

Isao glanced up from his food in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You're staring again. Is it just a bad habit of yours? You look at me like you want to say something, but you just can't spit it out. So, I'm telling you to just come on out and say it. I'm not easily offended. I promise."

Isao chewed thoughtfully before placing his container down and clearing his throat. Another moment passed as he sipped from his glass of water, gathering his thoughts before finally looking back up at Thalia, any amusement wiped clean from his face.

"Look, when we get to the gate to the Skein, your keeper is going to be there. He'll do everything in his power to stop you, but you must resist. He'll invoke your bond, and you'll have to fight it to break free. He'll have more control over you than you've ever known and might prevent you from entering the Skein. I just thought you might want a warning."

Baffled, Thalia almost choked on her water. What was he talking about? "Excuse me? I don't have a keeper. No one tells me what to do."

"Oh, but you do," Isao said. Clearing his throat again, he continued. "The Archangel Ereziel has been your keeper since your parents died. You serve him and him only. You must break the bond between you if you're to reclaim your throne."

"What?" Thalia scowled. "Are you insane? Ereziel is not me keeper. I serve him out of choice not obligation. According to the Concurrence, I'm a traveler and free to do as I like. This is crazy. And what throne are you talking about?"

"Were you not lovers?" Isao's eyes drifted away to stare at the Chinese take-out containers still steaming on the counter.

So... of course he'd ask about that and avoid my question, Thalia thought. Why would Isao even care what Ereziel meant to her? The archangel didn't know anything about the Skein or that she was headed there. He was not her keeper, and she owed him no favors. Since her parents had died, yes, he'd given her place to stay, food to eat, and direction. He was the whole reason she was a mercenary trying to earn points to enter Purgatory, but that was beside the point. She was not obligated to continue working for Ereziel, so what was Isao getting at?

"And how is that any of your business?" she snapped, annoyed by the intrusion and not knowing what else to say.

"Well, if you must know, archangels only take a mate once in their entire immortal existence. If Ereziel chose you, it was for a very important reason. Becoming mates will cause you to be bound to each other forever. He does not need to be told what you're doing because he already knows due to the bond he created with you. Unfortunately, you do not benefit from it in the same way."

"I don't understand." Thalia felt her stomach drop. She'd never heard of an archangel bond to their mate. She had seen archangels take on many lovers, so that was impossible, wasn't it? It made no sense. Was Isao lying to her? Yes, he must be. That, or he'd lost his mind.

"I can tell what you're thinking. You're thinking this can't be true. That archangels take many lovers, women or men. Yes, they can have many lovers, but very few fall in love, and when they do, it's only once, ever. With their mate. This creates a bond that can never be severed by time, distance, or circumstance. He is connected to you even now and knows where you are and what you're doing. The moment we step into Central Park with the intent of entering the Skein, he'll know, and he will try and stop you."

"Why would he try and stop me?"

"Because if you enter the Skein, your bond will break. Entering another realm without your mate is the only thing that can break a bond. A throne of the Skein belongs to you alone. You're a baron's daughter. You're automatically an heir to his or her kingdom. Crossing a gate to another realm like Heaven, Hell, or the Skein immediately severs your bond."

"For the love of all that is holy, Isao, Ereziel is not my mate!"

Isao sighed, picking at his food, his eyebrows furrowed. "He is your mate even if you do not accept it. How else do you think he knows when you're in trouble? Has he ever shown up unexpectedly when you needed him most? Has he not been there when you were thinking of him out of the blue? Did you not find it odd?"

"I find many things odd about Ereziel. But we're not mates. I would've known."

Isao laughed, crossing his arms. "And, pray tell, how would you have known if you're his mate or not? There are no signs to point it out. Only the archangel holds the branding of his mate."

"What would that look like?" Thalia, to her dismay, was intrigued by this. How would an archangel become branded? How would one know if they were someone's mate?

"When mated, the archangels hold a brand on their arm, right about here. Have you not noticed he always wears a gold cuff wrapped around that area? It's so no one can distinguish who the mate is. It's to keep them safe. He can track you through the branding mark; it represents your soul. Archangels may be eternal, but contrary to popular belief, most immortals can be killed. And trust me, many would love to kill an archangel's true love."

"And why would they want to attach themselves to someone? That would make them vulnerable... able to be manipulated. Everyone knows that to incur the wrath of an archangel is suicide, so why would they expose themselves in such a manner?"

He shrugged, stuffing another noodle in his mouth. "I don't know. Revenge is quite a motivator. There are many who'd like to get back at an archangel, even knowing it would mean their own deaths. Then there are men who just want to watch them suffer as they have. Jealousy. Who knows? There are a variety of reasons why one would want to break an archangel's heart."

Thalia scowled, her food already feeling heavy in her stomach. "If he's bonded to me, there's really no way I'd know?"

"Well, you might have some sort of mark, but it wouldn't be obvious like his brand. Or you'd possess a gift he'd bestowed upon you. You'd have specific powers or abilities. Or even wings. You'd join him in the ranks of the archangels."

"See? Ha!" She dropped her chopsticks on the counter. "There, you see? I have no wings or any sort of specific powers. And I certainly have no marks."

"That you know of. He may have hidden it from your awareness. You are bonded, no matter what you say."

Thalia couldn't understand Isao's insistence. It was downright annoying, and she fought the impulse to shake a fist his way. If all he said was true, could she fight the archangel to enter the Skein without him? What would it do to him? What would it do to her? Or would it do nothing at all?

"You're trying to scare me, aren't you? Why?"

"I'm not trying to scare you. I'm afraid you'll have to sever your bond, and it might not be comfortable for either one of you. I'm trying to prepare you for any obstacles that might find us on our way."

Thalia settled into her seat, afraid to ask anything more. The more they dug into the mysteries of her past and the realms, the less she wanted to know. A few days ago, her only concern had been to locate Ariuk and kill him. Now her entire world had been turned upside down. What would she give to go back in time to when her parents were alive and get them to a place where they could hide safely, away from a world which had done nothing but step all over her? What would she give to see them again? Even though they were wretched for using her, they'd raised her, loved her, comforted her through her darkest times. A child doesn't forget those kinds of things.

"The Skein... I have to get there no matter what, Isao. I must see where I came from. If there is such a thing as this bond you speak of, I'll have to overcome it."

"I agree."

"Will you help me?"

Isao nodded, sipping his water quietly and judging her mood. There was an infuriating twinkle in his eyes. He could read her like a book, yet he was as closed as a vault. It wasn't fair, and she wanted to have as much access to his soul as he had to hers. She'd have to wall up everything inside around these men. She belonged to no one, and she liked it that way.

"Of course, I'll help you."

"Thank you. You have to promise you'll make me cross the gate when the time comes, no matter how much I fight it."

Isao nodded, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I swear it on my life."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thalia returned to Matt's forge late the next afternoon, after Isao left, stating he was going to get supplies for their trip to the Skein Realm. Unless he contacted her telling her otherwise, she was to meet him in Central Park just after sunset.

She was supposed to wait in Isao's apartment, but unable to sit still for any longer, she donned a dark hoodie, covering as much of her hair and face as she could, and headed out. She managed to call the hospital in St. George stating she was Matt's sister and needed an update. No one had shown up for Matt yet, and they were suspicious of her call, but eventually, one of the nurses admitted Matt was still in a coma, having suffered from an infection where he had been shot. They kept patients like him in a coma to preserve his brain function, especially with the head injury he'd sustained. They were hoping to wean him off within a couple of days.

At least she knew he was in good hands, but after dragging him into all this, she missed his company. Even Isao's presence couldn't make up for it. Sitting in the middle of the forge, she glanced around the soot-filled room, the smell of burning wood and coal still lingering in the walls as though it had soaked into them from years and years of blacksmithing. The silence was almost unbearable, and she wished she could talk to Matt and tell him what was going on; she wanted to know what he'd think about her returning to the Skein Realm. What would he say? Would he agree with the entire situation? Would he tell her not to go? She valued his opinion more than anyone else's, and he was the one person she wished she could ask these questions of.

She closed her eyes, leaning forward with her head in her hands as her long hair fanned out across her thighs like a dark magenta wave. She didn't know what the future held or what the Skein Realm would be like. What if she met her birth family there? What would they be like, and would they even know who she was? The worst part was the magic of the Skein Realm. Would she be able to control it, or would she be like a child, helpless against the creatures Isao's texts had mentioned?

For the first time in her life she wished she wasn't this stranger lingering in her skin, speaking like her, and walking around like it belonged on this Earth.

A scuff on the concrete spurred her out of her thoughts, and she jetted a glance up and around the forge. Someone was there, and that someone had bright angel wings with a faint smear of brown along the edges. The face in front of those wings was one she'd known for years and years. Getting to her feet, she stood to meet him, her hands balled up tightly as anger surged inside.

"Ereziel. What are you doing here?"

Her archangel sponsor stepped forward, his eyes nonchalantly gliding over everything in the forge, taking it all in with a profound disapproval. Was that hate lingering in his eyes? Was it jealously? How would he have known she was there?

The bond. Right.

"Is this where you go now? Into the arms of the blacksmith? Looks like there's been a fire here lately. Did he fare well?"

Thalia didn't know whether to run over to Ereziel and pound him in the face or just shake her head and walk away. Of course he was jealous. Now that she knew about the bond, she would make him pay in more ways than she could dream of at the moment. The fact of the matter was, she didn't know whether she wanted to scream or beg him for mercy. He had to let her go to the Skein. If he didn't, she'd never forgive him.

"How dare you? How dare you make things between us more than they ever were? I found out about our bond. Why did you keep it from me? You lied to me. When we were together, you never told me I was your mate."

Ereziel perked up, but his smile faded almost immediately, another grim and stoic mask replacing it. His piercing blue eyes appeared to gleam in the scant light coming in through the soot-covered windows. There was a touch of malice lingering in them—or was it devastation—as he pressed his lips together, contemplating how to answer her.

"I meant to tell you many, many years ago, but you never made anything easy. You never would have been my mate had I told you that being with me would bring such consequences. You would've rejected me and walked away. So I chose not to tell you anything. I chose to keep it a secret, and yet you still left, so I guess it really didn't matter in the end, did it?"

"You should've told me. You should've been open with me from the beginning."

"Would you have given me your heart then if I had?"

Thalia bit her lip. Her tongue had dried to the roof of her mouth. He had a point. Probably not. She would've run as far, far away as she could had she known being with him would mark her as his forever. His mate. An archangel's mate, of all things. She had never wanted that and would do anything to sever it.

"You're right. I thought if I walked away from you, you'd let me be. But you took that choice from me, and I'll never forgive you for that."

"I see. I've paid dearly for keeping such information from you. But that doesn't change the fact that you are my mate, and you need to be by my side. I have been more than generous. I've let you wander the world and spend time with men like this blacksmith. Or even like that mercenary you've recently taken up with.

"Do you think they'll do anything for you? Would they die for you? They will, you know. Die, that is. They are mortals. Inferiors. Their lives are fleeting, and you will watch them die after they grow old and become unable to be everything you need them to be for you. I only have to wait a lifetime to get you back. I was willing to give up that miniscule amount of time for you to realize where you belong. I am the only one you can be with. I'd heal your broken heart, and you would never have to suffer that kind of pain again. Just return to me, and all is forgotten."

Thalia slammed her hand on a nearby wooden table, ready to grab the hammer and fling it at him. The charred wood cracked slightly, but she ignored it.

"That's not what's going to happen. You will break this bond between us, which I never consented to. It's what I want, and you need to abide by it. As an archangel, I know you know a way around it, and I know you knew everything about my heritage and the Skein Realm, yet you withheld all that information from me. That doesn't bode well for you, Ereziel. You should've been open with me. You should've told me everything from the beginning; who my parents were, why they brought me here, and why you became my sponsor the moment they died.

"You should've told me about the stupid key, about the barons who could be my real parents. I don't belong here, and even if I did choose to stay, I'd never be your mate. I need to return to where I belong, and you should've told me all of this from the get-go, but you're like all the other archangels. Selfish to the bone. Eternal in your cruelty. I will never be your mate. You will never get what you want from me."

"You need to think this through."

"I don't need to think about anything, anymore."

Ereziel's complexion flushed, his eyebrows cinching as her words dug into his soul. She knew they would, for she knew he angered when accused. He was probably about to blow up on her and begin spewing threats. She could see them flash through his eyes.

Maybe he'd threaten her with the death of Matt or anyone else she knew, anyone who'd supported her at any time. But in that macabre mind of his, he was also examining every possible scenario to see how he could gain an advantage.

He was going to make sure she never made it to the Skein Realm. Going through the gate was the one sure way to break their bond, and he probably knew this. What he failed to realize was that she was going to go there today, right after this, and there would be nothing he could do to stop her.

Thalia turned to walk out of the forge. Ereziel said nothing until she was at the door, opening it by the handle. His voice echoed loudly behind her, digging into her soul like a dagger as he moved to catch up to her.

"You will not find what you're seeking on the other side. Go ahead and break the bond. If you think I'm going to stop you, you're sorely mistaken. Tell me... would any of your lovers let you go so easily? Because if you love someone, you let them go, right? Just don't come crawling back to me when you realize everything you have found isn't what you wanted. Because what you seek isn't there."

Thalia pulled out her angel-killer sword and held it at arm's length.

"That's not true. I've already discovered more than I ever wanted to know. You're just afraid that I might find out how much I don't need you. Well, don't fret about that. I've already lived without you."

She swung, but the blade slid through air as Ereziel moved with inhuman speed, blurring as he zigzagged around the room just ahead of her sword. A moment later, her sword clanged to the floor, and her wrist screamed in agony as he twisted it while clasping onto her waist from behind and pulling her arm in across her chest.

She struggled to no avail. Wisps of her violet-magenta hair dangled in her vision, but the archangel did not let up, squeezing until her breath ran out and she wheezed with shallow intakes.

"Let me go."

"Not until you know and understand where I'm coming from."

"You're a liar and a user. I was never getting into Heaven through Purgatory. You knew that and didn't tell me."

She gasped, unable to inhale any more air. Stars danced in her vision, but she continued to buck even through Ereziel's hushing.

"I didn't want to lie. I promised your parents you'd be safe with me when they died. They made me swear and bound me with an unbreakable curse if I told you about your past. I couldn't do that. Not when it would have detrimental consequences not only for me, but for you as well."

"What curse?"

"I'd become mortal... and so would you."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Thalia's voice creaked in a harsh whisper. "I can't breathe."

"Shh. Just sleep for now. I have you. I'd never let anyone harm you."

"Don't—" Her eyelids fluttered, the room darkening as she felt Ereziel's heart beating against her back. His scent wafted about her, like a dream filled with memories. He had risked his immortality for her? Why? Why would an archangel bow to the whims of her parents, two selfish humans who'd fled slavery and stolen a child from another realm? Maybe he'd agree it wasn't worth it after all this time. Not for a mere foundling like Thalia.

"Please," she whispered. She was about to succumb to the darkness when Ereziel's grip suddenly loosened. He gently slid her to the floor and bent his face over hers, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Thalia. I never meant to hurt you. You must see that. I want to whisk you away, but there's a part of me that fights it. I want you to come to me of your own free will, to tell me you love me and want me. Not by force. I let you go, and it hurt more than anything I'd ever lived through. I can see why the Fallen sacrifice their wings for love."

Thalia sucked in a breath, closing her eyes and gasping as she struggled to sit up. She peered around to where Ereziel had been only to find the forge empty. The air hadn't even moved to signal he had left, but he was gone as though he'd never even existed in the same realm as her. She forgot how quickly archangels could disappear. They were so powerful here on Earth, a place where they didn't belong.

She continued to inhale deep, centering breaths, her heart slowing. Swallowing down the dry knot in her throat, she struggled to her feet. She picked up her fallen sword, slid it into its sheath, and turned to head out.

Evening out her breathing, she cursed Ereziel. The bastard had tried to kill her. What had stopped him from going all the way? She couldn't die, but she didn't want to relive the experience of waking up sore and nauseated, the way she did every time she suffered injuries that would kill a mortal.

She made her way down the alley, tucking her hair into the hoodie. She turned toward Central Park, where Isao would be meeting her. Still dizzy and lightheaded, she reached out to grasp the dirty alley walls, scraping her delicate fingertips on the masonry. Blood smeared across the bricks as she pulled her hand away to reach out to catch herself on an industrial-sized trash dumpster. She tripped over debris strewn across the alley but finally made it to the main road, cursing under her breath and exhausted.

So Ereziel had said he wasn't going to stop her from entering the Skein Realm. That didn't prove he had loved her or that he'd keep his word. It only confirmed he'd say anything in anger and probably rescind it later. She had to keep her eyes open and be ready for anything. Even archangels lied, and he could show up in Central Park right before they crossed through the gate, jeopardizing everything she and Isao had planned.

There was no way she'd let him screw this up. The bond between them would break the moment she crossed the barrier, and she'd be free. Of course, she'd then have to deal with the situation on the other side. No matter where she went, she'd be in danger. Who knew if her immortality would keep her from permanently dying on the other side? Maybe it only worked as long as she was on Earth. It was something she'd have to keep in mind.

As she made her way toward the park, she paused to catch her breath on one of the benches lining the sidewalk. It was the weekend, and despite the light rain, the streets near the park were filled with couples walking around, buying popcorn and hotdogs from vendors, children squealing for ice cream, and people going about their errands. Such a conventional life she would never lead.

The thought left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. Human life had been denied her as well as the afterlife. She was stuck in a limbo, cursed to live forever without reprieve, without knowledge of her fate. Paradise was out of reach. Only this labyrinth world she sought could bring answers to every question she'd ever had and secure her future. Not even Ereziel's love could do that.

Hearing his pronouncement of love had opened old wounds, and tears slid down her cheeks. She had loved him once too, but this life had a way of severing her from all she held dear, even Ereziel's love. She'd run so far and so fast from love, afraid she would regret giving herself to such a powerful entity. When he'd offered her a chance to leave, she took it. It hadn't helped that she was riddled with guilt for surviving after her parents' deaths. Survivor's guilt, he had called it, but it didn't explain her reluctance when it came to anything permanent, and that included love.

No. She'd used it as an excuse to cut ties to anything and anyone who cared for her. She was not a good person and probably never would be. She didn't deserve to find peace and harmony, love and family. Not after all this time, killing in the hope of redemption. It'd stolen her humanity.

She stood and moved through the undulating crowd, flitting past the faceless bodies and into the park. The Skein would return whatever she'd lost here so many years before. Of that, she was sure.

Chapter Thirty

A misty sheen of rain dusted the park, humidifying the air just enough to make it feel heavier. Thalia tread though the walkways keeping her head down and hoping none of Ichiro's men were lurking in the vicinity. Her thoughts were erratic and distant as she proceeded, pummeling against her like the raindrops hitting her face.

She had met Ereziel when she was seventeen years old, fresh from losing her parents in a horrific car crash. They'd been run off the road by some massive, shadowy figure in the darkness, but Thalia had never gotten a good look at the creature. She'd been in the car with her parents. She shouldn't have survived, but she'd found herself in Purgatory, surrounded by thousands of people, her parents right in front of her. Following the crowd, she'd watched her parents check in with a person at a kiosk, who scanned through a large book of names. When it was her turn, the attendant had frowned, scanned the book with a glance, and shaken his head.

"You're not welcome here. Away with you."

With a snap of his fingers, he'd banished her. She'd awoken in a field, her skin red and blistered, her lips dry and cracked. She had wandered for a while, not entirely sure of how she'd managed to survive, until Ereziel found her and whisked her away to his estate in New York City. It'd been the first time she'd laid eyes on him. He'd explained she was immortal, and her kind was not welcome in Heaven.

"What?" she had asked.

"You're immortal now. You need to accept that."

And she had. Without much questioning, except for what had become of her parents. When told they were at peace in Heaven, she'd been left utterly silent with despair. When she'd finally come around out of her depressed state, desperate to find closure, she'd found nothing but strict rules and training. She finished her schooling, but Ereziel had given her an offer she couldn't refuse. Stay and train as a mercenary. Collect the souls of the damned. There was one way into Heaven, and that was it.

At least, it had been. If Isao's stories were true, she was on her way to find another way in.

She shivered as the cool breeze caressed her skin. Spotting Isao waiting for her with their bags on a bench marking the area near the entrance to the Skein Realm, she shook her memories away. Yes, she was an immortal, but unlike any others that existed on Earth... as far as she knew. She was from an entire other realm. The immortals she killed in this realm could die and never return. Nothing had yet been able to kill her. Injuries that would finish off a human would take her out of commission for a while, but after healing, she'd come right back. It was a curse, this life. She didn't know if she could bear it much longer. If the gate to Heaven from the Skein didn't open for her, then her mission would be pointless, and she'd have to find something else to fill her time or seek peace in the Skein. Until then, this journey was all she cared about.

Her heart fluttered as Isao joined her and led her into the foliage near a pair of mighty oak trees. He pointed, indicating the gate to the Skein Realm. The air vibrated with power. It flowed over her skin, feeling oddly familiar and inducing a nostalgic ache she'd not known for many years. She was about to enter her home realm. For the first time in her life, there was a spark of hope. From her reading, she knew that the magic humming around them would only open the gate when she presented the key to the trees. Only then would they reveal the doorway.

Thalia reached up to her neck and tugged her shirt down to pull out the key. Before it touched the air, she paused, feeling the environment shift. The hair on her neck stood on end, but nothing happened.

"Why isn't it working?" she asked, swinging her eyes toward Isao, questioning him.

He stared at the key and frowned. "I'm afraid it needs more than just your presence. It needs your blood to activate the key's magic."

She stared at him, trying not to laugh. Of course it wouldn't be a simple key. Anyone who tried to cross through the gate needed blood from a native of the Skein. Luckily, Thalia had all she could ever want.

She drew a dagger and was about to prick her finger when she heard a rustling behind them. Someone was there to interrupt their entrance.

"Ereziel!" Thalia stopped in her tracks, stunned to find the archangel suddenly standing between them and the gate. With his ethereal speed, it'd taken him only a second to cut them off from it. Her surprise quickly morphed into anger as she realized he was there for one thing and one thing only.

"Get out of the way. You're not going to stop us."

"You can't go through the gate. I thought I could let you go, but I can't. You don't belong there."

"And where do I belong?" Thalia snapped, her anger boiling up in her throat as she bit back more acidic words.

Ereziel didn't answer. Instead, he eyed her with a despair and determination she wanted to slap from his face. How dare he?

"Who are you to tell me that?" she demanded. "You don't know anything about anyone, especially not me. You've kept so many things from me. How am I to ever trust you again? You're nothing but a liar, a cheat, a corrupt thing. Selfish to the bone."

His eyes darkened as they skipped over to Isao, who held out two curved blades. He was still wearing his backpack but ready to pounce in case Ereziel decided to try and use force. The slender ninja didn't appear to concern him as he turned his gaze back to Thalia.

"There are things you need to know, Thalia. Your parents told me that if anything were to happen to them, to come and get you and make sure you would be okay. I took you in, trained you, and gave you a life worth living when all you craved was death. Isn't that enough?"

Thalia scoffed. "A life worth living? Killing others is not living. It's dying one soul at a time, slowly, like a festering sore. I'm dead inside because of it. This is no way to live. You withheld my heritage, and I'm going to find out what it's about, and nothing you do will stop me."

"I withheld it for good reason."

"Yeah, I know the reason. I leave for the Skein and this twisted bond you chained me with becomes null and void. I get it. But this isn't up to you. I'm going."

Ereziel's face fell, darkening even more, and Thalia discarded any hope that she could reason with him. There was no bargaining here. She could see that there was no way she was passing through the gate with Ereziel's blessing. Isao shrugged off his backpack, ready to fight. She had to prepare to do so too, even though taking down Ereziel would take them both to the extreme edge of their abilities.

Archangels didn't die. They could be maimed, knocked unconscious, tortured, starved, or held prisoner. But killed? Never. They were truly damned to live forever. Outside of Heaven, it was the worst kind of punishment. Here, they were unnatural abominations. They were creatures of another dimension, never meant to walk among the humans. But so was Thalia.

"You're making a big mistake, Thalia. Just take my hand, and we can go home. Together. I've missed you. You are my mate, and I know I should've told you this years ago. I wish I'd never let you walk out the door, but things can be righted. I swear I'll never keep the truth from you ever again. There is no one else I want, and you know this. You know my heart is yours. It was you and me against this world. Always. Please don't do this."

Thalia felt her palms dampen, her heart in her throat. Her hands were curled into fists, and she had to concentrate to make her fingers relax. She flexed them. She couldn't let them go stiff if she was to grab her angel-killer sword and hurt Ereziel, but did she really want to hurt her former lover? Inside, her heart was ripping in two. She didn't want to harm him, but there was no other way out of this. The Skein Realm called to her across the grassy patch to the oak trees, a beacon beyond time and space, thrumming in her skin, bones, and blood. It knew her as though she'd been there before. There was something out there wanting her closer, wanting to embrace her and never let go.

She closed her eyes, her soul warring within. Did she still have feelings for Ereziel? It couldn't be possible after so many years, could it? But then why did she hesitate to take the first step toward her destiny? Why was she contemplating damnation here on Earth for the rest of her immortal life? And for what? The love of an archangel?

Not just any archangel. He was Ereziel, the one person who'd seen the raw side of her, locked inside so deeply that she'd shown it to no one else. He knew every one of her quirks and habits. No one else had ever been privy to her life. Not Matt. Not Isao. No one. So what had torn them apart when their bond should have kept them together for all eternity?

Lies, betrayal, and manipulation. He was a corrupt man, twisted in ways she could barely comprehend. Every angel had their mind games. Being locked out of Heaven had made them these unbearable yet beautiful creatures. They belonged in the presence of divinity. A pure and utter love. Without it, cut off from their source of reverence and power, they'd been left to fend for themselves among lowly humans. Still, blessed with unearthly powers and charms, they were like gods on Earth. It was easy to forget they weren't the rulers of all things, and that their own ruler had forgotten them.

"Get out of our way, Ereziel. I don't want to hurt you," Thalia snarled, afraid she'd lose her determination if she waited one moment longer. This time, his eyes narrowed and filled with hatred. There was a primordial pain lingering in them, and Thalia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She'd seen him angry before, but she'd never been the object of it. She could see how anyone would cower before an archangel. Even Ichiro's wrath was nothing compared to Ereziel's bitterness.

This was a mood she never wanted to evoke in him. He'd only looked at her with longing, love, and absolute desire. Now his anger felt like someone had cut off a limb, slamming a door to the warm insides of his soul and leaving her in the frigid cold, alone and shivering. She pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply as her fingers felt for the edges of her sword, readying for anything.

"No. I won't let you pass." Ereziel's eyes lit up, fire burning within them as his skin brightened, shining across the grove and blinding them. Thalia covered her eyes, the light too radiant to see. She blinked as she pulled her sword from its sheath, hoping the light would die down once Ereziel moved. Isao was also shielding his eyes, feeling Ereziel's power as the air moved violently around them.

"Isao!" Thalia called out, hoping the archangel wouldn't attack in the brightness. It gave him the advantage; he could be right next to them and they wouldn't even know it. "Where are you?"

"I'm here!" He was suddenly at her side and then pressing his back into hers, keeping watch through squinted eyes at the illumination surrounding them.

Relieved Isao hadn't been picked off, she tried as she might to see through the light until it abruptly faded, throwing them into the opposite, a darkness as blinding as the light.

"I was always there for you, Thalia, yet you've chosen to enter an unforgiving realm with this man. It's beneath you. You know neither what you are nor half of your potential powers."

"And you do?" she yelled out, trying to listen for movement. The air had died down, and the stillness felt thick and sticky around them as they waited, hunched together and looking into the twilight with blades in hand.

"You're lying again, trying to confuse me. I have no other powers."

"You're wrong, Thalia. So very wrong."

Chapter Thirty-One

Ereziel appeared suddenly before them, flicking a wrist which sent Isao backward into the bushes. A moment later, Thalia was on the ground in agony, her spine bursting as pain shot through her chest, biting into her midsection, around and through her shoulder blades. She couldn't breathe, much less see. Her vision flashed with pinpricks of light as her chest screamed in agony. She heaved, trying to catch her breath through the incapacitating pain.

"I'm sorry, Thalia. You leave me no choice."

Her struggles were futile, and the air was stripped from her chest. Barely conscious, she breathed harder, the skin on her back stretching while her bones popped along her spine.

"Stop! What are you doing to me? What's happening?" she screamed out into the darkness, begging answers from Ereziel, who stood nearby, doing his best to avoid her touch while quietly observing, a pained look on his face.

"You want to know your full potential, don't you? I hid most of it from you when you came to me, confused, in fear, unable to face the fact that you were not human. Your body was beginning to change... you were growing into what you were destined to become. You asked me to mask what you called your 'abominations' and modify your memory so you'd forget them. That's why you remember little of your past. You begged me to help you. You asked me why this was happening to you. You begged and pleaded for a normal life, one in which you wouldn't have to hide from the world. Another chance to be the teenager you'd always wanted to be. You never wanted to accept the real reasons you were not normal."

Thalia pressed her eyes closed, the pain growing in intensity until her body numbed and her head swam. She had to fight to stay awake, her shallow breaths roaring in her ears. This man was insane. She would never ask for such things to be done to her. To lose all knowledge? To forget she was an angel? Never.

"What are you talking about? You're lying."

"Am I, Thalia? Think hard. I now release the shackles on your memories, the ones you asked me to place there. Sift through them at your leisure, but you will see that I am not lying. All I have told you is the truth. I would do anything for you, and I pray you'll remember that."

Lying on her belly, she pressed a cheek to the ground, the scent of fresh-cut grass wafting into her nostrils, anchoring her. Dampened earth, dandelions, and honeysuckle reminded her of the farm where she'd spent part of her childhood. Days of playing in the mud and tossing her small frame into stacks of hay. Those days had always been shrouded in a fog, but now, as something grew from her back, drawing energy from her body and unfurling, she clearly recalled her life with her very mortal parents.

"Be careful, Thalia," her mother would say, "Steer clear of any oak trees. Twin trees always keep the darkest of secrets and steal away the youth of this world."

Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, secrets she'd whisper to her before bedtime while she blew out the candles. The flames would dance across her face, casting shadows on the walls behind her.

"Monsters live in the dark, past the twin oak trees and in the realms of the forgotten. Don't touch the trees, even when they call to you. They'll steal you away from us. Keep close and stay safe."

It had meant nothing to Thalia back then. But now it meant the world. Her mother had left clues about the Skein Realm with every story, every caution, every warning. If only Thalia had asked her to explain things, then maybe she'd have been more prepared for this metamorphosis, this agony, this truth. Why had she not been the curious child seeking out her roots and origins, begging her parents for more information? Why had she not spoken those words when she'd had the chance? Then she would have understood when she began to sprout wings. She wouldn't have been scared and confused and driven into the arms of an archangel. But it was far too late for that. Her parents were gone, and her life was a complete and utter lie.

Suddenly, the pain subsided, but she kept heaving in and out, unable to catch her breath. Isao was still missing, lost in the bushes and probably rendered unconscious. She rolled to her side, afraid to move any more, her body shuddering with pain again and her mind welcoming more unraveled secrets she didn't wish to know.

"What did you do to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a raspy whisper. She pushed against the ground, wobbly at first, still fearing her muscles wouldn't work correctly. They fought the movement with a violent shaking until she paused, letting her body rewire itself. She managed to turn her head slightly and saw movement in her periphery. Large feathery things loomed above her, shading the moonlight and throwing her into shadow. Majestic things she'd only seen on the eternal beings flittering in the sky, cloaked from human eyes, the immortals from the realm of Heaven.

Wings. She had wings. Large, shiny, sleek wings that appeared purple-black in the darkness. She blinked, afraid she was hallucinating.

"There's no reprieve for us immortals," Ereziel lamented. "You died with your parents, but your kind does not stay dead. You're a wraith of the Skein, a realm of nightmares and confusion. A child of a baron, caretaker of dreams and magic. You, dear Thalia, are the most unnatural of all creatures... and the most powerful of the immortals."

"No, this can't be... wings?" She reached back, every cell of her body aching, and brushed her quivering fingers against the smooth, large feathers. They were slick with blood, but it was beginning to dissipate, to vanish before her eyes.

"You're the equivalent of an archangel in the Skein Realm. But you're my bride and belong to this realm now. If you go back—"

"It severs our bond," Thalia answered, still breathing hard but unafraid of Ereziel's anger. He had released her powers after hiding them from her for all these years. He had to pay. "You've hidden more than my wings. You've suppressed my powers. Kept me weak."

"Yes, you're right. I used our bond to keep you contained. You were young, too naïve to understand what this all means. United, we could rule this world. But it wasn't what you wanted. You always knew there was something else, another place you belonged. You misplaced those innate longings, thinking it was Heaven you needed to earn your way into, but it wasn't. The Skein Realm calls to its heirs, and as you grew older, you became stronger. I couldn't suppress your powers forever, no matter how much you hated the thought of what angels are. You called those like me power hungry, cursed, damned... yet you're one of us. The same."

Thalia shook her head. "No. I'll never be like the archangels. Your entire lot, you're twisted, mangled, unholy. Maybe that's why you were locked out of Heaven. The potential for corruption was just too great. God gave up on you."

"That's blasphemous, and you know it," Ereziel growled, his face darkening more, his skin flushing a deeper red. Her words stung, she could see that, but had she pushed him too far? Even through all this, the deceit, the horror of realizing she was an anomaly of another realm, she still felt a part of her heart seize, the place where she'd retained a fondness for her first love. He'd dragged her out of a darkness no one else could have saved her from. There'd been no one else to rescue her.

If only Ereziel had told her the truth years ago, it would've saved her so much pain, so many insufferable nights, and all those souls she'd killed believing it'd buy her passage back into Purgatory. All of it had been a lie concocted by Ereziel to keep her focused, driven. In a way, he'd been right to task her with something worth living for, or she'd have tried to end her existence one way or another. He'd honed her pain, sharpened it to a point, and directed it toward the tasks he should have been dealing with himself.

People like him were the leaders of the legions of angels, after all, ruling those beneath them and keeping the balance between good and evil. And yet they'd been spurned from Heaven. They'd shunted their responsibilities, and Ereziel had given his job to Thalia when he should've been the one killing each evil soul himself.

At this point, he and all the other archangels were beyond redemption. So many years away from home had turned them into the darkest of creatures. After all the pain, suffering, and rejection, were any of them still righteous? Were any of them left unbroken? She doubted it. The expulsion had forced them to make difficult choices, and she blamed this ancient hurt for Ereziel's actions.

"If I am an archangel of my realm," she said, "then let me go and do my duty. I am as needed there as you're needed here."

She shifted, slowly pushing up onto her knees. The pain had ebbed away some, but it reignited with every movement. She winced but tried her best to remain stoic. Ereziel wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing her ask for help. She'd rather die than ask such a favor.

He shook his head, his features relaxing as he let his mask slip. Was that pain and fear in his eyes? Thalia couldn't be sure, but as she reached out to grab her sword, she hoped it was. Pushing off the ground to her feet, she felt a renewed sense of power stabilize the chaos inside. She stumbled but caught herself just in time as her heavy wings threw her body off balance. She gripped her sword, holding it ready to strike.

Ereziel, amusedly watching her struggle, stood still with his arms crossed, probably unable to believe she'd use the angel-killer against him. He was sorely mistaken. She was prepared to strike him down, lord help her. If he thought for one second that she was going to forgive all and stay here with him to be his subservient mate, he had another thing coming. She wouldn't feel bad about hurting him. Not anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Don't leave me."

"You can't ask that of me." Thalia swallowed back the dry lump in her throat, afraid her answer might not be enough. She glanced to the side to find Isao rushing out of the shrubs, blades in hand, and looking fierce. At least he was okay. She worried he had met a worse fate being hit by an archangel's power. He was mortal, after all, and far more fragile than she was.

"Isao," she called out, glad he appeared intact. He approached, apprehension and shock painting his face as he kept an eye on Ereziel while examining her new wings.

"Are you all right?" he asked, falling to her side, crouched and ready to fight. Even though he had a slender build, he was sturdy; he could take a hit.

"Yes. Apparently, there were more secrets withheld from me than I could have ever dreamt. I'm the Skein's version of an archangel, but Ereziel here thought it was better to keep it all from me."

Isao shook his head, glaring at Ereziel. "Big mistake. She won't ever forgive you for that. You do know that, don't you?" He taunted Ereziel with a snicker as he bounced slightly from foot to foot.

She smiled at his comment and turned back toward Ereziel. She bent her knees, feeling more comfortable with the weight distribution from the wings. They folded as tightly as they could, the tips grazing the ground. She felt the dirt at their edges, the earth beneath them vibrating with life, calling her name with its magic. No longer did she feel alone; there was so much on her side Ereziel could never touch. Whatever lay beyond the gate to the Skein, she knew it was a power he would never be able to control or possess. If she ever returned to this realm, he would pay sorely for underestimating her powers.

"Let us through, Ereziel," she demanded, clutching her sword and feeling its metal vibrate under her touch. Everything felt different. The moment her wings had sprung from their bindings, something had unlocked within her. Whatever magic Ereziel had used to suppress her powers was now gone. Emotions were heightened, and her senses were going haywire. She had to get through the gate no matter how disorientating this unleashing of magic was. She'd never been more determined to return home.

"No. I can't let you do this." Ereziel dropped his arms, drilling a glare into them. There was something there, real doubt they might get past him and walk through the gate. Maybe he knew something else he hadn't mentioned. What was he so afraid of? It couldn't just be the stupid mate-bond he'd spoken of, could it? She wondered if he even knew what would happen if their bond was broken.

Maybe he didn't know. There could be a real possibility they would both die or be harmed in some other way. What if nothing happened? What if their bond remained intact? The thought of that made Thalia hesitate. It would be awful to be bound to Ereziel beyond this realm, unable to escape his hold on her.

"Why, Ereziel? What are you not telling me? It's time to say everything. Please don't lie anymore," she begged, feeling his fear crawl across the grass and seep into her, petrifying her muscles with the threat of real, mortal dangers. If reentering her realm came with the possibility of death for either of them, would she still do it?

The answer filled her with an absolution she'd never known. It was worth the risk. "Speak or let me through."

"If you cross, our bond breaks."

"I know that part already."

"If our bond breaks, we both become mortal."

Thalia paused. He'd said that before, when he was choking her, but in her desperate fight for air, it hadn't quite registered. It had tickled the back of her mind after he'd released her, but she hadn't been able to believe it. Not after so many other lies.

"Say it again."

"We'd both be mortal if you break the bond," he said as she closely watched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception. "You'll be left to drift the labyrinth of the Skein Realm, unprotected and powerless."

"He's lying," Isao muttered. "He's just trying to stall us, throw doubt into the mix. Don't listen to him."

She glanced at the ninja warrior, wondering if he could be right. What if Ereziel was lying? She hadn't been able to tell; he'd always been so good at hiding his emotions. The possibility was very real, and to fall for it would render her a fool.

"I don't believe you," she said, staring at the archangel as she shifted back on forth on her feet. She took one step forward, studying his reactions. Ereziel watched her intently, observing her as she moved again. He tensed, his jaw, twitching as his eyes slipped back to her face.

"Why would I lie to you about this? Why would I be here if my own life weren't in danger? I lost you years ago, I accept that, but even though I want you back more than anything, self-preservation takes precedence. I can't change the fact that you despise me, but I will be forsaken if I let you take my powers away."

"You took my life away the moment you lied and said I could get to Heaven by killing all those people. All those souls! How dare you speak of stealing a life away? You cursed me without batting an eyelash!"

Before she knew what she was doing, she rushed toward Ereziel, her sword out before her. In a flash of light, a blade materialized in the archangel's hands, clashing against hers in an ear-splitting clang. They fought, swinging their swords at each other, neither able to find an advantage. Thalia shoved and pushed, her anger taking over as they battled. Isao joined in once Ereziel was finally able to bunt her away, the weight of her wings pulling her backward.

Fighting with these new appendages was more difficult than she'd anticipated. Catching her balance, she found Isao holding his own against the archangel. Ereziel appeared almost bored as he met Isao's attack, hit after hit. Finally, looking fed up with the brawl, he sent a ball of rushing wind at the ninja, lifting him from the ground, up and over the line of shrubs once more.

"Leave him alone!"

Thalia sliced the air in front of Ereziel with her sword, nicking his shoulder with the edge of her blade. The site sizzled, blood blossoming from the cut immediately. Ereziel winced, staggered back, and grasped at the wound with his free hand. Thalia waited, heaving hungry breaths as he examined the slit before glancing at the blood on his hand. It was bright crimson, staining his white tank top even as the wound quickly wove itself together before her eyes.

Ereziel smiled, a snarl playing at the corners of his mouth. "That sword is forbidden. I was willing to let it drop earlier, but that was before I'd felt its sting. The punishment for creating such weapons is death, and I'll make sure every archangel across the world knows about them."

Thalia inhaled sharply. Maybe she shouldn't cross over to the Skein yet. Matt would need protection when he awoke. If Ereziel meant what he said, the blacksmith wouldn't be safe no matter where he went.

"Shut up," she spat.

"Worried about your little blacksmith boyfriend?"

She refused to answer, but she averted her eyes toward Isao, who was once more emerging from the hedges. He looked roughed-up, his hair mussed and dusty, his dark blue jeans stained with grass. Their bags of supplies remained nearby, untouched and resting on the grass. Thalia wondered if he'd brought some extra clothes in there, a thought that quickly dissipating as Ereziel snapped his eyes toward the warrior. She grabbed her backpack, clipping the chest clip around her waist since her wings wouldn't allow her to wear it then kept an eye on Ereziel as she tossed Isao his own pack.

"Maybe you're involved in it too, Isao. Did you have a hand in creating these abominable blades? Don't answer; the truth doesn't matter. I can easily convince Ichiro that you are responsible, and he'll be sure you pay with your life."

"It wasn't Isao," Thalia snapped. "Leave him and Matt alone. This is about you and me, not them. Let us pass, and I'll forget about all the lies you've told me over the years. I don't believe the bit that we'll become mortals if I cross, and if you care about me, you'll let me go. For good, this time." It didn't hurt to appeal to Ereziel's compassion once more, but Thalia's patience was gone, and so was her fear. No matter what he decided, she was ready to finish this.

"Your choice in men is starting to irritate me, Thalia. It's irrational."

"And who should I choose? You?" Thalia laughed, disgusted. He was playing at her emotions too, but he was tugging the wrong strings. Who did he think he was?

His frown deepened, hurt floating in his eyes. "It could've worked for the better, if only you had let me in."

"Well, that's never going to happen now." Thalia rushed at him once more, her sword meeting his with an illuminating spark as the magic within the blade surged. He didn't swing back but only held his sword out, moving to block her attacks.

"You won't enter the Skein. I forbid it."

"In case you didn't notice, I don't take orders from archangels. Not anymore." Thalia swung again, and Isao joined, attacking at Ereziel's other side. It took more attention to fight them both, and Ereziel began to falter, backing up foot by foot as they pressed him. The night sky was bright from the city's lights and the full moon peering down at them, quietly observing their battle. If any mortals could hear the ruckus, none were coming.

A siren echoed in the far-off distance. The city continued without them, regardless of their turmoil. Thalia briefly wondered if Ereziel had created a barrier at this site to keep humans from hearing them. She wouldn't doubt it and fought against him harder for his interruptions of everything in her life.

The years of anger, frustration, and resentment built up inside her came pouring out with each swing of her sword. The night and the two other warriors were the only audience to her purge as everything surfaced, tears blurring her vision as she grunted, trying to drive him back but growing more and more exhausted with each passing moment. One of them had to break, and she was damned if it was going to be her.

Chapter Thirty-Three

On and on they fought until Thalia couldn't hold her sword up anymore. Ereziel was also tiring, but not as quickly as Isao. The ninja looked like he was struggling to stay on his feet.

She had discovered that archangels could tire, but the thought was far from comforting. This couldn't go on. They would both lose their ground against the Archangel any moment, and the gate would never be opened. Thalia drew from the last reserve of energy inside her, sucked in a deep breath, and strode forward once again.

Under their assault, he'd been reluctantly moving back toward the twin oak trees, and as she approached Ereziel, she could feel the amulet burning against her skin, begging for release. A cut on her arm tingled as she reached over and wiped up some of the blood with a finger. She placed her wet finger upon the locket, and it lit up like a flare.

If not for her shirt, the light would have blinded everyone. Behind Ereziel, the air near the gate quivered, wavering as though the surface had turned into water. It glistened, shimmering with the moonlight like a lonesome lake with waves lapping along the edges. Its freezing depths beckoned to her as she took another step forward. Isao appeared back at her side and raised his sword, letting her know he wasn't out of the fight.

They charged.

Ereziel chuckled as he repelled them both. His strength was unfathomable. "Have you had enough yet?"

Even though he was exhausted, Thalia knew they wouldn't outlast the archangel. She looked at the gate then back at Ereziel. Tossing one last glance toward Isao, she nodded. He returned her gesture, a knowing expression filling his dark eyes.

"You will never be enough," Thalia whispered. "Don't you know that by now Ereziel?" It was Thalia's turn to laugh, and her throat felt raw as her chest heaved, burning as she used up the last of her energy. She pressed forward alongside Isao.

"You only had to give me one chance, Thalia. Just one, and I could've shown you all you've ever wanted. Come with me. Forget this other realm, for there's nothing there for you. Not anymore."

His pleading felt genuine, but she could not turn away from the gate. They each summoned up the last of their energy and pushed the archangel back, sending him flying from his feet. As he lost his balance, he shoved at Isao and wrapped a hand around Thalia's wrist.

"Let go!" Thalia's scream echoed in her ears as she was propelled forward toward the gate, entering right after Ereziel's body disappeared through the shimmering threshold. Turning back, she saw Isao dive after them just before the gate sealed shut, and they were thrust through a vortex of clouds and lighting.

The momentum of Ereziel's fall yanked her forward. A violent wind howled in her ears for what felt like a millennium, and her vision blurred. She could no longer see the other two, but she felt Ereziel's iron grip on her wrist. The air whipped past, the light brightening as she screamed, feeling a deep-seated fear grasp ahold of her for the first time since her parents had died. The light gave way to a dark red mist, swallowing them. Ereziel let go as her body smacked into solid ground, rolling and crashing against it, rocks and gravel digging their way into her skin and igniting a searing pain across her newly enhanced body.

The light began to fade to darkness as a ghostly voice whispered around her. It was a voice she remembered from her childhood, long, long ago.

"Welcome home, child. Welcome home."

Book 2 is coming! The Cursed Labyrinth is coming July 2018. Click here to be notified of its release.

Sneak Peek: ArcKnight

The ArcKnight Wolf Pack Chronicles #1

By

Alexia Purdy

In the treacherous City of Temple where supernaturals and humans intertwine, only the most cunning will survive.

Teaming up with a handsome wolf shifter named Ephrem, the banished Princess Lilliana must find her stolen Ardent talisman before a sinister enemy uses it against both rival wolf pack strongholds. Thrown onto a path neither of them expected, they stumble across a third cell of supernatural shifters lurking in the city's Outlands where tensions mount. These new strangers want nothing more than to disrupt the two royal strongholds, the ArcKnights and the MarkTiers, and reignite a long-forgotten feud from decades past.
Prologue

Lilliana

I smeared the mascara down my cheeks, leaving behind angry stripes where my fingers dug into the dampened skin. No matter how much I wanted to claw my dang eyes out, scream and slam my fists into the moldy walls of the alleyway buildings, I hated to admit that I'd been incredibly wrong about everything up until now.

So. Very. Wrong.

It wasn't hard to understand the how or why of it all. It was the who, the what, and the when of the situation that killed me. My stupidity had taken a dive into an all-time low, and I felt like I was drowning in a puddle of putrid, bottomless muck. There was no air in shit this deep.

And it was all my fault. All. My. Fault. How could I have been so naïve?

"Dammit!" I screamed out into the rain. It was pouring and blinded me when I attempted to peer up into the disappearing sky. I couldn't see much above the buildings, the rain shot down like spears dropping from the sky. It pelted my head and forced me to look down to shield my already reddened eyes.

At least the rain absorbed my tears as it washed away my makeup. It was befitting, really.

You see, I'd failed tonight. In more ways than one. I was so screwed. If there was a remedy for the problems I'd caused this evening, I was all ears. No one could help me now, and I was on my own. There would be no pack for this wolf girl. I was a loner now. Kicked out of my pack for my stupidity, defiance and utter belief that I was invincible... untouchable.

How wrong I'd been. So trusting and vulnerable.

I was as good as dead out here.

Chapter One

Rafaela

The room shut down when I stepped into it. It was obvious what the subject was about, but I didn't have time to be offended. Even though it wasn't just about me, I should've been told first.

Jutting my chin out, I kept walking. No one could know the turmoil tossing inside my mind. I had to appear composed, calm and undeterred. There could be no weakness showing. Weakness meant death and inferiority. It wasn't a trait of a leader of a wolf pack. Especially not one like the ArcKnight pack.

It wasn't enough that I had to deal with the banishment of my only sister, Lilliana, who'd been relieved of her Ardent talisman and thrown out last night for losing an important artifact from our pack's store of weapons. Without both, our pack magic was weakened just that much more. Banishment was the only thing left to do with her, but I should've been there when they made her leave. She'd been nothing but a thorn in my side, a constant splinter digging its way through my epidermal layers until the infection she tends to spread overcame me in a feverish rage. She'd pushed me to the limit, and no matter how much I loved my younger sister, her behavior could not be tolerated any longer if I were to remain in control of the ArcKnight werewolf pack. I was to be queen, and any disrespect from any of its members, even my dear sister, couldn't be forgiven.

Regardless, I should've been notified when she was taken to the gates and unceremoniously let go. Why I hadn't been told was a sore point between me and my soon-to-be husband Gil, and I was intent on finding out the reason for it.

Holding my head high, I strode through the main meeting room of the mansion our pack inhabited in the outskirts of Temple, California. It was a rather large city smack dab in the middle of the state's coastline, but the amount of supernatural activity here tilted the scale in favor of groups like ours. The landscape was pleasing. It was surrounded not only by mountainous desert, orchards, and thickly forested mountains, it also had an affinity to magic. Regular people settled here too, yes, but the ones with an affinity to the supernatural far outnumbered them.

These were dangerous times to be lacking magical talents.

I made my way to the front of the room and felt every single pair of eyes raking my hide as I reached the podium where Gil waited. The amusement dancing in his eyes made me even more furious. He enjoyed attention from anyone who would give it to him. I was pretty sure I'd committed happiness-suicide deciding to stay with him as my betrothed, especially after catching him many times over surrounded in the company of women with questionable intentions. I didn't stay with him for love. There were other things far more valuable, far more desirable.

I hadn't actually caught him technically cheating as of yet, but I had my suspicions. If I ever did, there would be hell to pay, and I made sure he knew that. I aspired to far greater things than just being his wife. Power was one thing I craved, and this position would grant it to me. I'd waited a long time for it.

For now, it was time to clean up the fine mess Lily had left me. I'd have to organize a search party to find and retrieve the artifacts Lily had lost. It hadn't truly been her fault. She may have been a conniving sneak and smart as a whip, but someone had outsmarted her. All her scheming to play with an ancient artifact had turned on her when her accomplice stole it, leaving her to take the blame and rot in banishment. I'd find this traitor and hopefully bring my sister home. But I had other issues to deal with first.

As I reached Gil's side, I gave him an unreadable, hard stare before spinning toward the crowd of eyes awaiting the next move from its royal rulers. Gil and I were practically married, and everyone knew we were the leaders of the pack ever since Gil's father had fallen ill a few days ago. He was dying a slow, painful death at this very moment in a bed down the hall. It sucked that he'd be gone soon after being fatally wounded and infected with a rapidly progressing virus by an unknown perpetrator, but that was the law of the land. Kill or be killed. Fight or die. There was no leniency in times like these. His attacker would pay soon enough.

I let out a long, calming breath as I observed the restless crowd before me. My thoughts were chaotic and lingered with my dear little sister. No matter what, I loved Lily, and the worry choking me inside was all for her. I hoped she made it out alive. Without a pack to back her up, she was as good as dead or forever cursed to the endless dangers plaguing any banished supernatural in the city or the wild. Most died within a year of banishment if they remained in the city, but some survived by seeking refuge in the vast wilderness surrounding Temple. I hoped she was smart and found isolation to her liking because the city was full of hungry souls looking to devour everything that happened to tumble into their embrace. Lily was known for making some rash and spontaneous decisions that usually didn't pan out well, but she was an experienced fighter and could take down wolves twice her size.

I hoped her smarts would kick into play now more than ever.

Still, such hopes did nothing to settle my nerves as I faced my pack with nothing but humiliating rumors circulating around the group faster than a wildfire on gasoline. It was time to squelch the flames before it consumed my pack and destroyed all I held dear.

"Welcome, ArcKnights. I've called this vital meeting to address some urgent issues currently needing attention. I hope someone is willing to volunteer this time. I really hate assigning positions when those who are better suited for certain things should just go ahead and show some initiative and take the positions offered. This is the time to come together and fight for what we hold dear. Our pack. Our family. We really want to avoid what happened last time, don't we?"

A ripple of murmurs ran the course of the room, and I turned toward Gil, giving him the signal to continue the speech. Alphas had to present as united or the pack was in danger of complete disintegration. We'd been conditioned for this very thing since we learned to speak.

"Thank you, Rafaela. My love. As acting Alpha of this pack, I am required to inform you that our ruling Alpha died twenty minutes ago."

The pack burst into a flurry of murmurs, gasps, and whispers. The room vibrated with movement and unrest as the realization that we were leaderless washed over every soul. I drilled my eyes into Gil for a brief moment, trying my best to camouflage the effects of the shocking news. Why hadn't he told me before the meeting? How could he withhold such vital information from me?

I thanked my solid composure for keeping my face from crumbling, and I ripped my gaze from him, focusing on the exit sign at the rear of the room. The red light glowed indifferently as I let its outline mar my sight with its destitute existence. Gil's face had betrayed nothing of the news earlier, and it was usually easy for me to read. Years at his side had trained me to anticipate every move, every need, every want, every emotion he could ever have. Yet, as of late, I'd discovered how very little I truly knew about not only my fiancé but also my own sister as well.

There were strangers all around me, and I'd never felt more alone than I did at that very moment.

Later, I'd let Gil have it for leaving me out of such a critical loop. He'd have to learn to respect me as co-leader of the pack and as his spouse if this union was to work out. If not, the consequences would be grave, not only to my family, but to the entire pack as well. This included Gil.

"The services will be held later this evening, and I suggest everyone be in attendance." He turned toward me. A lingering question in his eyes he failed to voice remained. "That is all." He stepped down off the stage and made his way toward the rear of the room before disappearing through the doorway.

Everything changed today. I knew that more than anyone here. I followed behind, not trying to catch Gil but hoping I would make it out of the auditorium and back to my rooms before my anger surfaced, before I broke down, before the tears.

This was just another thing I couldn't control. I never had control over anything from the start. How could I let myself think otherwise?

It was time for changes indeed.

Chapter Two

Lilliana

A movement caught my eye from a darkened alleyway at my right. I clutched my useless, soaked jacket and scurried past the ominous opening, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. The city was no place to wander at night. Especially for a girl like me. Even the humans were smart enough to stay indoors and out of the desolate avenues, crooks and crannies of the city, especially when the dark skies poured out endless rain.

"Hey." A voice hit me from behind, and I craned my neck around to get a peek without stopping. The stranger wore a dark rain jacket with a hood that completely covered his face. Perfect. "Hey, lady, don't I know you? I do, don't I?"

"No. I don't think so," I hollered back and sped up, crossing the street and stepping into a curbside river of dirty city water. I gasped as the freezing liquid hit my skin and soaked through my socks and shoes. I'd have to dry them out somehow, if I could even find a dry enough place. Every doorway, every staircase I passed was locked up tight for the night. If I came across any viable shelters, it would be a blessing. The way things were looking, I was going to shrivel up and die from pneumonia before anything good happened.

"Wait! I do know you! Just hold up there, lady!" The man yelled at my back, echoing closer than ever.

My heart raced in a panic. Could I risk a confrontation with someone? I was frozen to my marrow and exhausted. It wasn't faring well for a fight in these conditions.

His steps crept closer. I could still hear him through the raindrops and my thumping heart.

Shoot!

"I'm sorry, I'm really in a terrible rush—" My body jerked back as the words left my lips and he grasped my jacket, giving it a good, hard tug.

"I'm talking to you! Don't you know it's rude to ignore someone?" A haughty chuckle escaped the man's throat as I managed to peer up through the hard rain slamming into my face. I was sprawled onto my knees as he pulled me to the ground. Stupid jerk!

"What the hell is your problem?" I barked at him, jumping to my feet and backing up enough to pull out one of the weapons secured to my belt: two short baton sticks. They weren't my favorite weapons, but they'd been the only ones I'd been able to grab before they tossed me out of the ArcKnight palace.

The man was two heads taller than me and showed off his shiny grill as he threw me a menacing smirk. He was out here to cause trouble, nothing more.

I cracked my neck, readying for the struggle. At least it would warm me up in this icy rain.

"Got yourself some pretty sticks, I see." He swatted at one of my arms, smacking the back of my hand hard. It stung enough I stepped back, taking in a quick sniff of wet, earthy air.

"You shouldn't have done that." I jolted forward, swinging my arm in a full arc to slam one of my batons against his temple. The satisfying crack and his subsequent stumble felt incredible. It'd been weeks since I'd actually sparred with someone, but a street fight would definitely do the trick to oil up my skills.

Before he could recover, I kicked his thigh with the heel of my boot, right where the muscle would spasm and give, bringing the giant man crashing to the ground. I miscalculated a spin kick toward his face by a millisecond and joined him on the ground as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me off my feet.

My breath rushed from my lungs as I slammed against the concrete. The smell of rancid garbage, weeks-old leftovers and whatever else strewn across the alleyway filled my nostrils as stars sprayed across my vision. Staring up into the darkened, cloudy night sky, I considered calling my wolf forward. I hated shifting to fight a human, and this man was nothing more than a mere mortal, but he had almost over two hundred pounds plus a few feet on me. Even with his clumsy, oversized body, he was faster than I'd given him credit for. He'd bested me with nothing more than a mere snatch of my legs. If things didn't turn in my favor, I wouldn't have any other choice.

"Shit," I muttered. I shut my mouth and eyes as the pouring rain assaulted my face. I coughed and sputtered, blinking to try and stay focused on my assailant.

His darkened eyes—colorless in the washed-out night—narrowed, followed by a sinister grin.

"That's right. Stay down, bitch. Just the way I like my women."

I lifted my leg with a snapping jerk, kneeing him in the balls and bringing his body, now crouched over me, falling into a massive heap, pinning me down.

He exhaled a rumbling complaint that shook my chest as I struggled to breathe under his weight. The behemoth wasn't rolling off me anytime soon, for the pain and subsequent collapse had angered him even more. If I didn't get out of this precarious wedge, I'd be more than just breathless.

I resorted to smacking his face with my fists in rapid succession.

"Get the hell off me!"

"You bitch! You'll pay for that!" His acrid breath filled my nostrils, adding to my discomfort.

Thwack!

A loud crack resonated near my face right before the jerk went slack. Great. A freak ice storm hail ball must've hit him right in the head or something. Now there'd be no way I could roll him off me before I'd pass out from lack of oxygen.

Death by suffocation via squashing. What a way to go.

I wondered what the people who found us would say. Both dead in the alleyway come morning light, one by hail, one by suffocation. I could see the headline now: Former Princess Dead from Suffocation, Buried Under Giant Assailant Killed by Freak Storm. She shall be missed, yada, yada, yada. Yeah... I don't think so.

"Give me a break!" I yelled as loudly as I could, but my chest was burning with a thousand tiny prickling spasms with each shortened breath. I pounded on the guy, shoved and bucked to no avail.

The next second, a rush of freezing air encircled me as the weight of the man fell away to the side. Another man in a drenched hooded jacket now stood over the body of the would-be rapist creep. I took the opportunity to crawl away and use the nearby building wall to lean against as I caught my breath. My batons were somewhere in the wreck of the alleyway, but I couldn't even concentrate enough to try and find them. Almost suffocating was no walk in the park.

"You all right?" The new guy didn't approach but waited to see how I would react. How nice of him. He was probably waiting for me to catch my breath to ask me for something obscene. Like that was going to happen. I'd die before any man could do anything to me, and I'd make sure he'd pay for it dearly.

"I'm all right." I barely managed to speak above a whisper before another cycle of violent coughing arrested my efforts.

"You don't look all right. Royalty shouldn't roam the city unescorted, especially during violent downpours."

I scoffed at his rough voice and made the mistake of taking my eyes off the guy as I kept trying to inhale without pain. When I looked back up, I found nothing. I darted my eyes across the alley, but the culprit intruding on my destitute mood was now nowhere to be seen.

"Who are you?" I called out into the storm, my chest slowly recovering from the assault. A rumble of thunder swallowed my thin voice before I could finish my question. Still, squeezing my eyelids closer together to avoid the stinging rain, I kept searching for the stranger.

A rush of air pushed at me as a figure dropped in from above, landing quietly into a nearby puddle of water. Crouching, he slowly straightened and peered at me from underneath his hooded jacket. The man was not much taller than I was, but with his broad shoulders and meaty frame, he could easily take me down without much effort.

Unless I shifted. Then he'd have a beast to reckon with.

In a quickened flash, the stranger closed the distance between us until our noses were millimeters from touching.

I gasped.

"Princesses don't belong lost in the rain... in the darkness."

"I'm not... royalty. Not anymore." I let out a long breath, feeling a wave of sadness contrast with the warm ripple he'd evoked within me. His face was barely visible under the dim streetlamps. The enticing angles I could make out led to a pair of dark, stormy sea-blue eyes presenting an infinite abyss as they reflected the scant light. His irises emitted a dull glow from within, making their own eerie auras. I held my breath, stunned.

"I don't know what you mean, Princess. Once royalty, always royalty."

He pulled his hood back to allow me to see his face as he lowered his head and eyes to the ground in a show of submission and courtesy. He had dark black hair cropped close to his scalp on the sides and longer on top. His light olive complexion gleamed with raindrops that sat on the short stubble lining his chin and cheeks.

I relaxed, realizing he was a guard. I didn't know if he was ArcKnight, but he didn't appear to want to attack me. He could be MarkTier pack for all I knew, but his gestures were those of a subservient royal guard. I was less than deserving of this cordial treatment. I was less than zero now. Apparently, he didn't yet know about my banishment.

"You haven't heard, have you?"

Confusion spilled across his features. "I'm sorry, m'lady. I do not know what you mean. I'm a perimeter guard. I rarely enter the MarkTier palace grounds."

So he was MarkTier. His eyes glided up to my face. If he knew now what I meant, he didn't say it. Maybe he wanted me to say it. He was just like a good royal guard dog. No questioning anything the royals did. At least he'd had no orders to extinguish the banished ArcKnight princess. What a relief.

But who had told him to help me? My confusion felt like a rock in my stomach. Great.

I frowned, pressing my lips tight. I hated this. To say it out loud made the cut deeper than it already was. I was glad my new tears disappeared into the droplets of rain sliding down my cheeks. If I were still a royal, I would reprimand him for embarrassing me. But I wasn't. And I'd never be one again.

"I've been banished," I whispered, but I knew he heard me. I spun on my feet and walked away, the words still bitter on my tongue. I didn't want to see the look of pity he'd give me now that I'd told him the reason for my unusual appearance beyond the gates of my palace. I had nowhere to go. No money, nothing. I'd been put out with the clothes on my back and one bag of possessions. My walk of shame through the kingdom and out the gates into the middle of the night was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Even so, I was determined to make it, no matter what.

A hand clasped over my shoulder, and I whirled around, a guttural rumble emitting from my throat from the morph I was holding back. It wasn't wise of him to startle a shifter. I knew my eyes would startle anyone not of my world, but my unusual, yellowed eyes and the fangs growing from my jaw as I let the shift change my features should have been enough to scare anyone to bits. Not him. He let his arm drop to his side as he watched me fight the morph.

There was no fear in his stormy blue eyes. In fact, there were no emotions betraying his feelings at all. Just like a good soldier. His lack of response stifled the fire increasing in my veins and readying me to fight. Deflated, I let go of my wolf magic and let my human side slip back on.

Exhaling deep breaths into the night air, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

"Leave me alone." Tears kept coming, and I wanted to drown in them.

"M'lady, I cannot leave you here alone. It's not safe."

I whipped my eyes open and glared at him. "I told you I was banished. You can stop with the formalities and get. I don't have time to waste on a pathetic royal guard. Especially a MarkTier. I'm okay on my own."

"If you come with me, I know a safe place where you can get out of the rain and get warm."

I laughed. It came out more hysterical than I intended, but I was not in a mood to keep it together any longer. The fact that he offered me any shelter at all, most likely his home, was gracious, yet the knowledge that it was most likely on ArcKnight territory made the offer even more bittersweet. I was banished not only from the royal ArcKnight palace but from lingering on any of the pack's territories, which included a substantial chunk of the city.

I was truly alone now.

"You'd be punished for harboring a non-citizen... a traitor like me. I can't. You know I can't."

He held out his hand. It glistened with water, for he was soaked to the bone, just like me. The cold rain didn't affect him at all. I was the one shivering and on the verge of hypothermia, and yet he waited patiently.

"It's beyond the ArcKnight border. I promise." His eyes gleamed in the momentary moonlight sneaking past the storm clouds above. They were breathtaking and unusual. I'd never seen another shifter with eyes like his.

It may be beyond the ArcKnight stronghold, but they weren't the only pack ruling the city.

"But the MarkTiers...."

"They have no jurisdiction there either."

Staring at him in disbelief, I let my eyes linger on his for an eternal moment. His offer brought more questions to my mind than anything else. Even so, there was something there that held me in a trance and beckoned me to follow. Taken in by that hypnotizing cobalt sea, I reached out, accepted his hand and let him lead me through the murky city paths I'd never trodden, deeper into the unknown.

This place was now my new home, and it was nothing but strange and frightening.

But what choice did I have?

Chapter Three

Gil

I focused on the garden outside my window. Fidgeting with the hard platinum metal bracelet that marked me as Alpha of the ArcKnight pack, I couldn't help but to scowl. The road was always painted gold for the prince of the pack. Anything I wished would be brought to me at a moment's notice, anything at all.

The one thing I wanted was the most impossible to obtain. My father died today after being attacked by an unknown assailant, and I wanted that person, creature or thing to hang for it.

It was my only wish.

Not this circus going on around me as I lamented, staring across the expansive gardens my mother maintained. She was out there now, pruning, digging up the dirt, planting and nurturing her precious brood of flowers, fruit trees, and other horticultural specialties I knew nothing about. I'd never taken to her green thumb, but as I watched her systematically work her gloved hands through the rows of tulips, petunias and other flowers she alone kept alive, I wished I could obtain her level of peace.

I had no such luxury.

Her husband was dead before his time, and she was calmer than a calm before a storm. I loved and hated this characteristic of hers, but that was my mother. Adelaide had no head for war or peace, but her mere presence calmed everyone who had the pleasure of meeting her in person. It was an ability that mystified me, and sometimes I could see the same trait in my partner, Rafaela. My parents had chosen her to be my betrothed when I was born, though I highly suspected my mother had more to do with it than my father. Rafaela was a perfect mate for me, but I knew that fate had nothing to do with it. Adelaide had everything to do with the choice.

"It's time." Right on cue, my beautiful bride-to-be's voice interrupted my reverie. I didn't look away but continued to stare, lost in the repetitive movements of my mother's hands.

"My mother?"

Rafaela approached the window and breathed out, looking tired. "I'll take care of it."

She swerved around, her long, dark brown hair swinging into my sight as she left to retrieve my mother. The soft breeze replacing her left a trailing scent of honeysuckle and spring air. Closing my eyes, I let it swirl around me. Rafaela was... intoxicating. That was the word. No one compared to her, and I didn't know how my parents had found her so many years ago. Her parents were not ArcKnights. They were from another pack, far from here on the other side of the world. They'd been summoned for the pairing since they had a newborn daughter of the right age and wished to forge an alliance with our pack. They'd relocated and had happily sealed our futures with a blood oath, swearing our families' bond forevermore.

Now, at the age of twenty-two, we were normally free to get married when we wanted to. The only exception to that was if the ruling Alpha died or was in any way disabled, we were to be married within three days to take the head position in the family.

We had two days to set up a wedding.

I knew Rafaela had it all under control and was probably a tangle of nerves, as was I, but it was too soon. We had just become adults, and with marriage, a whole other set of problems came with it.

I wasn't looking forward to it, no matter how much it was my destiny.

Pulling my eyes from the glass, I turned to grab my jacket. It was time to get this show on the road. I loathed funerals, especially when it involved a family member. Who didn't? I was now tasked with finding my father's killer, and I was pretty sure the one person who could help me had just been banished into the city and was probably dead by now.

I shouldn't have banished her so quickly. It was a rash decision to send Lily away so soon. I was distraught and didn't even wait for Rafaela to come when I had Lily shoved out the gates.

Most lone wolves didn't survive a night out in the ghettos of the city, beyond the borders of the Arcknight stronghold. Nope. I was positive Lilliana, my fiancé's sister, was good as gone. I was kicking myself for being so naïve as to let the elders handle her fate and for me delivering it too swiftly. It never occurred to me until afterward that she could have some answers about the circumstances surrounding his death. Now... that was a dead end. Finding her in the tangle of derelict houses and destitute streets was almost a near impossible feat in a city the size of Temple; it could rival New York City. Besides, there was a rival pack nearby who would certainly be eager to sink their teeth into her.

The MarkTiers shared the city with us, but they held the south side of town whereas we held the north. The in between, east and west were the neutral lands, formally called Temple City, but were not governed by either pack. No one crossed the other's territory, but the in between? Anything goes.

"Ready?" Rafaela asked, returning from retrieving my mother.

I nodded. "Yes. You?"

She sighed and gave me a somber smile. "As I'll ever be."

"Tell me something, love?"

"Yes?" She perked up and waited as I gathered the words I wanted to say. If it didn't come out right, I could offend her. That was something I didn't want to do.

"Do you think Lilliana might know who did this to my father?"

Rafaela's once bright face tightened when I mentioned her sister. She did love her younger sibling, but their relationship was probably based more on duty, not love. I never did pay any attention to it. Though Rafaela rarely showed her sister more than a slight cold shoulder, Lilliana would never speak wrongly of her older sister. The two were thick as thieves in private; it was the royal public life that had worn down—but not quite broken—their connection.

"I don't know." Rafaela lifted her chin as she subjected me to her cold, dissecting glare. "And if she did, she'd have told me."

"She always told you everything, right?" I toned down a challenging glare. Treading carefully here was a must.

"That I know of... yes." Rafaela let her eyes fall away and studied the ground. I knew she was holding something back. The sisters had been distant as of late, and I wondered if Rafaela realized just how big the divide had become. It would grow even worse once she became my wife.

Pack before family. Always. But what defined those lines?

I reached for her and grasped her hand in mine, giving it a firm squeeze. Sooner or later, she'd tell me what had happened between them. I was her mate. There could be no more secrets.

"Shall we go?"

Chapter Four

Lilliana

The rain pounded the windows with a furious violence. I imagined hundreds of frightened children and pets cowering under the covers tonight. Sometimes I wished I was young again; free of mistakes and wrong turns, fresh and brand new without history or future marring my existence. The things that could never be undone dug into my skin, forming invisible scars that no one could see except me.

The royal guard set his backpack down and shed off his soaked jacket before hanging it on one of the hooks lining the wall near the door. I dropped my own to the floor on top of my pack. I was soaked to the bone so it didn't really matter to me. I'd have to wash all my clothes anyway. Most of my stuff was probably ruined.

Still freezing, I hugged my arms around my frame as I scanned his apartment. It was cozy, warm, simple and lived in. It was far from immaculate, but it was safe. That was all that mattered. I was used to palatial accommodations, but this was paradise to me compared to the freezing rain outside. Picture frames lined the walls and tables, filled with smiling faces. Two young boys who were apparently related grinned toothy smiles into the camera. Only one was a formal picture of a man and a woman standing proudly behind the two boys. Their smiles were genuine and made their faces radiate.

I picked the last picture frame and studied it closer. I'd never seen such happiness in my parents. Though my sister and I had been loved and doted upon, I could barely remember my parents ever smiling with such joy, such vibrancy. My fingers ran across the smooth wooden frame, a rush of melancholy overcoming my misery. This guard had grown up happy, cared for. I wonder if he knew how much richer he was compared to me.

"You can take a shower if you like. The bathroom is down the hall to the right. Last door on the left. Here." He held out a dark green towel along with a shirt and some elastic waistband shorts. He must've guessed my stuff was all soaked through and through. I was relieved I wouldn't have to ask for anything, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

"Thanks," I whispered. He turned away and was headed toward his room to change. I assumed. "Wait!"

He paused and turned, awaiting my question. "Yes, m'lady?"

"Please don't call me that. Call me Lily or Lilliana."

His eyes looked thoughtful as he pondered this, but he didn't speak. I was sure it was against everything ingrained in his soul to call me by name. It just wasn't done in the royal court.

"What's your name?" I asked.

His eyes widened with a smidge of uncertainty flashing behind them. I couldn't quite make out all his features in the darkness of the apartment. I wasn't sure if he was offended or not. I couldn't wait to see his face in pure daylight.

"It's Ephrem." He continued toward the room on the other side of the apartment where he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. I couldn't rip my eyes from him and, naturally, he glanced over and caught me watching him. Great.

He definitely knew who I was. I wondered how he could know that. I stayed away from the cameras. No one was interested in the lowly younger sister of a crown princess of a royal werewolf line. In spite of my lineage, the way he caught me staring at him made my face burn scarlet like I was still a schoolgirl. I was never more relieved to be standing in the dark with my features cloaked by the dim light.

A flash of green at his chest caught my attention as he shifted his weight, turning to leave.

"What's that?" I asked, desperate for him to stay just a moment longer.

"Pardon?" Ephrem never looked down, but his jaw tensed. He knew what I was talking about, and I was even more curious now that he'd given me a reason to investigate further. He didn't want to straight out tell me what the talisman around his neck was, so I'd squeeze it out of him, whether he wished to volunteer the information or not.

"You know... that pendant you're wearing. What is that?"

He reached for the necklace, curling his fingers around the emerald stone embedded in a dull, platinum finish setting pressed with tiny runes. I'd never seen it before, yet it was oddly familiar.

"This was a gift from my mother." He searched my eyes for a moment. "Every royal-blooded family member has one."

"What do the runes mean?"

His eyes drifted to the window where he watched the rain pelting against the window. Swallowing, he cleared his throat and let out a breath. "It doesn't mean anything. Just a gift."

What a lie. He knew that I knew every royal family member had an Ardent talisman. It wasn't completely unheard of for minor royals like a king's nephews or cousins to join the ranks of the royal guard, but it was certainly unusual. And even then, their rank would make them captains, not scouts on the periphery of the court's domain. What was he hiding? I felt my anger pulse to my face, most definitely turning it an eggplant shade of purple. How dare he lie to me? I may be pampered royalty, but I felt the same emotions as everyone else. In fact, his deception burned into me like a branding iron.

"Where's your talisman, Lily?"

I reached up to my neck, feeling nothing where the metal of my pendant should lie. I felt vulnerable and weak without my necklace.

"I—I don't know."

I looked away, breathing in deeply so as to not lose my head over such a matter, but not a moment later I flicked my gaze back toward him when I heard his door click shut. The bastard had left me there to stew in my own anger. MarkTiers were raised differently from ArcKnights. They might treat royalty with the utmost respect, but they were more secretive than the CIA. But I'd get it out of him sooner or later. There would be nothing he could hide from me.

Damn. If only I hadn't caught sight of his well-developed, trim warrior's body before he'd disappeared behind the door. He kept in shape, that was a definite. I was pretty sure every soldier in our guard was required to stay in perfect shape, but I'd never seen one without his armor on. The way it made my body ignite underneath my skin had me beelining toward the bathroom to hide, my anger dissipated.

Once there, I pressed my back against the closed door and closed my eyes before I turned on the light. This tiny space was a sanctuary, and if all I had to do was deal with a hot, introverted guard, this was going to be a piece a cake. I just hated that I currently looked like a drowned rat. My reflection was horrid, and I groaned as I stepped forward and swiped the stringy strands to the side, squeezing the water from my mane.

"Drowned rat, indeed," I sighed. Looking away, I stared at the standard tub/shower combo and sucked in a deep, centering breath. Gone was the luxurious bath suite back home. This was my life now. Yeah, that royally sucked, but now that I had nothing, this was better than the alternative. Beggars can't be choosers.

At least now I had Ephrem. Whoever this soldier was, I intended to know more about my knight in shining armor. Maybe he could be an ally. A comrade. Maybe he could help me retrieve what was stolen from me and help me get my life back.

Maybe he was what I needed after all. I couldn't wait to find out.

Want more? ArcKnight: The ArcKnight Wolf Pack Chronicles Book 1 is now available. For more information go to www.alexiapurdybooks.com

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, thank you to God who has my back no matter what shenanigans I get into.

I want to thank all my readers, beta readers, patrons, and all those following me for the amazing support, friendship, and nurturing you guys throw my way. I seriously would not be able to spit out this stuff without you.

To name most but not all the people who have my back in no particular order, I hope you know how eternally grateful I am for you. Here's to you. Thanks: Michael K. Rose, Jennifer Malone Wright, Rhiannon Frater, Candice Margis, Rachelle Binkley, Nicole Robinson, Rebecca Davison, Cadence Rae, Jennifer Grap, Sandy Stephenson, Susan Commeford, Karla Stamps, Laura Lee Price, Kendra Gaither, Erin Talbert, Amanda Gibson, Sherry Christenson, Amy Conley, Kaila Karg, Galina Sulaiman, Caroline Kranat, Ginelle Blanch, Jacqueline Queen, Angela Sawyer, Julie Beard, Michelle Smith, Jennifer Trevino, Jenny S-Lamprea, Diana Lopez, Aletia Meyers, Doris Orman, Yvonne Riggs, Jennifer Mitchell, Cynthia Bayes, Candy Smith, Jason LaVelle, Kristina Thoman.

If I forgot anyone, please forgive me! I swear, it was not intentional. There's so many people involved in each project, it truly is a miracle how this comes to completion. You guys rock and I am so blessed to have you all in my life.

About the Author

Alexia Purdy

Alexia is a USA Today Bestselling author who currently lives in Las Vegas and loves spending every free moment writing or hanging out with her four rambunctious kids. Writing is the ultimate getaway for her since she's always lost in her head. She is best known for her award-winning Reign of Blood series, and A Dark Faerie Tale Series.

Connect with Alexia Purdy:

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More books by Alexia Purdy:

Accursed Archangels:

The Unbreakable Curse

The Cursed Labyrinth (Coming Soon)

The Irredeemable Soul (Coming Soon)

The ArcKnight Chronicles:

ArcKnight

Sovereignty

Reign of Blood Series

Resonant

Reign of Blood

Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)

Elijah (The Miel Chronicles):

A Reign of Blood Companion Story

Amplified (Reign of Blood #3)

A Dark Faerie Tale Series

The Withering Palace (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.1)

Evangeline (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.5)

Ever Shade (A Dark Faerie Tale #1)

Ever Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #2)

Ever Winter (A Dark Faerie Tale #3)

The Cursed (A Dark Faerie Tale #3.5)

Ever Wrath (A Dark Faerie Tale #4)

Without Armor (A Dark Faerie Tale #4.5)

History of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #5)

Ever Dead (A Dark Faerie Tale #6)

Legends of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #7)

Guardians of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #8)

Other Stories

The Fall of Sky

Papercut Doll

Wicked Grove

Anthologies

Soul Games

Faery Worlds

Faery Tales

Once Upon a Curse

The Shapeshifter Chronicles

It's a Bird! It's A Plane! A Superhero Anthology

Once Upon a Kiss

The Aching Darkness

Once Upon a Quest

Wicked Magic

Dreams Are Stranger Than Fiction

