 
Hybrid Chronicles Book 1: Fall

Copyright 2016 Amber Douglas

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other books by this author:

Andromeda's Harmony*

Blood Moon

Blood in the Water

Dark Sky

Dracula's Revenge

Demon Scion: Book 2 of Dracula's Revenge series

The Fallen Angel

The Fallen Angel: Retribution

The Fallen Angel: Repentance

The Demon Chronicles: Demon Soul

The Demon Chronicles: Demon Blood

The Demon Chronicles: Demon Line ( _coming soon!_ )

Hybrid Chronicles Book 2: Rise ( _coming soon!)_

Mermaid's Song*

Murder in Room 220

The Outlander

A Pie for Papa

The Protector

Red Moon

Ren*

REN and Other Tales of Fantasy

The Shepherd's Flock

The Watcher

When the Light Cometh

White Demon

* available as single ebooks

Chapter 1

Angela Rogers tapped her foot anxiously as the woman with a pixie cut and sharp rimmed glasses studied her credentials. Angela was the daughter of Lucifer and Meredith Rogers. Her eyes, one blue, one brown, studied the petite woman discreetly, praying she would pass the test. The petite woman looked up at her.

"Well, Ms. Rogers, everything looks to be in order. Welcome to the FBI."

Angela smiled. "Thank you."

Two hours later, she headed down to the basement where she was assigned. She heard the faint sound of typing coming from a door. _Great. I'm Scully and he's Mulder._ Angela opened the door and saw a middle-aged man there, fingers flying across the keyboard. She cleared her throat and the man stopped typing.

"So, you're my new partner, eh?"

Angela had to smile at his Canadian accent. "Agent Mulder, I'm Dana Scully."

The man's brown eyes had a slight twinkle to them. "Agent Scully, I'm Agent Drake Johnson, not Mulder."

"I'm Angela Rogers, not Scully." Her eyes flicked around the office. "Remind me to get you the poster."

"Which one?"

"You know: the I Want To Believe poster." Angela took her seat at the second desk further from the door.

"So why are you down here? You believe in aliens?"

"If you mean I believe in things that are beyond the realm of possibility, then yes." She kept her gaze steady on his, and she saw the effect her eyes normally had. His seemed to glaze over and he blinked a few times.

"Are your eyes...normal?"

"Genetic mutation. The blue from my mother, the brown from my father."

Agent Johnson's eyebrows went up. "Wow." She noticed his eyes sweeping over her small frame in the nearly sheer pink blouse and black skirt that showed off her curves in the right places. Her brown hair was curled and draped over her shoulders. She took a breath, noting how his gaze lingered on her chest.

"So what's on the agenda for today?"

He cleared his throat. "So, we got a report about a Jersey Devil sighting shortly before the man who reported it was murdered."

Angela had to shake her head in wonder. These humans: so ready to believe in anything. _Easy there, daughter,_ she heard her father in her head, _just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not there. Also, be nice to Drake, okay?_

"Jersey Devil. So we are Scully and Mulder."

"Not really. You're not a redhead. You're a brunette. And sexy to boot."

Angela blinked at the blatant comment. "Excuse me?"

"Wonder why they sent you down here anyway? You know if it was as a distraction, you're doing a damn fine job of it. You're not married are you?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Any significant other?"

"No."

"Good." He jerked his head to the desk. "Hope you're not too loud, if you know what I mean."

Angela clenched her fist under the table, anger burning in her chest. How dare he! She knew there were fault lines near D.C., and wondered what he would do in an earthquake. _Does Canada have earthquakes?_ _How about a four-pointer?_ At that thought, she felt her power flow into the ground, causing the building to shake.

He looked up at the ceiling, not budging from his perch on the desk. "Hm. That was probably a four-pointer."

"Perhaps we should get back to the task at hand." Angela said in a clipped tone.

He grinned and detached himself from the desk. "Sure thing, sweetheart." Just as he got to the filing cabinet, she snapped her fingers. Time froze and she exhaled her breath. She got up and plucked the file from his fingers and resumed her perch on the chair.

Angela snapped her fingers again and time resumed. She peeked over the file to see Drake looking at her with a perplexed expression.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?" She snapped the file closed and studied the man. She noticed the faint scar on the bridge of his nose, his dark hair streaked with grey curling around his ears, his eyes a piercing dark gold, almost amber in color. She found herself admiring his physique. _Should I lie to him?_

"You're not a vampire, are you?"

Angela grinned. "My father said to never lie to people, but to be conscious of someone's feelings, and wisdom to know the difference."

Drake nodded. "Okay."

"To answer your question, I am not a vampire. I'm actually something...well, I don't know whether to say better or worse than a bloodsucker."

"The truth?"

Angela watched his eyes drop to her chest as she breathed deeply. She got up, her angelic senses feeling the waves of lust rolling off the man. She made sure to make eye contact with him. Smiling at seeing his eyes darken and glaze over, knowing she had him under her spell, she put her fingers lightly on his chest and pushed backwards.

Mentally, she had forced a chair over so he fell back in it. She bent down until they were eye-level, her fingers moving to his chin. She leaned forward until their lips almost touched, then leaned backwards, noting he leaned forward, wanting her. She blinked, and broke the spell. Grinning at his perplexed look, she slowly straightened.

"The truth? My father is Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself."

"Sorry, not believing it, darling." Drake got up, towering over her. Angela scoffed.

"Keep telling yourself that, Agent Johnson." As he closed his eyes and shook his head, she flicked her fingers and had the file in her hands. He opened his eyes and blinked.

"So, Jersey Devil sighting, huh?"

"Mm-hm." She snapped the file shut and pulled out the keys she had taken from his pocket. "Mind if I drive?"

"Yes." He snatched the keys from her. "You're new. You don't know where to go."

She followed him out to the garage where the agency cars were. Angela blinked and the car unlocked before he got a chance to use the fob. As she slid into the passenger seat, he glanced at her.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Old enough. Why?" She could see he was thinking. She shifted in her seat, her eyes not leaving his. "Tell me something. Have you always been so lustful?"

"Why?"

"Your behavior earlier." Angela smiled. "It's fascinating."

He started the car and drove out the garage before answering. "Fascinating? Let me tell you something, kid. I've had my share of women, but no one makes me more..."

"Carnal? Lustful?"

"Exactly, except you."

Angela leaned back in the seat. "I have that effect on men. And women. Anyone really. I get that from my dad."

"Right. The Devil. Then how come you have a blue eye?"

"My mom. I'm actually a nephilim."

"A what?"

"A nephilim. Half-angel, half-human." She watched him shake his head and she gasped at the realization. "Drake, you don't believe me."

"How can I believe it? I haven't seen proof of divinity, so why should I believe?" He looked at her and grinned, his gold-brown eyes twinkling in the sunlight. Angela tore her eyes away, feeling her heart speed up, heat in her neck.

Dad, help me here.

No answer. She forced her shoulders to stay relaxed, as she panicked silently. To break the tension, she reached to the radio and turned it on. A song came on she recognized as Stand By You. It was the end, and the next one came on she recognized from a vampire movie. She punched the radio buttons a little harder than necessary, hating her sudden loss of power.

"Don't break the radio, sweetheart."

Angela glanced at him, feeling her power rise in her eyes. He was looking away. _Dad, what is happening to me?_

She was silent the rest of the way. Drake pulled into the leaf-covered driveway and before the car stopped, Angela got out and started walking towards the house. Her anxiety attack in the car was forgotten about when she smelled the fresh cool mountain air and grinned. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

A hand on her shoulder ruined the moment. "You okay?" Looking into his eyes, she was torn. _I'm Angela, daughter of the Devil. I just had a panic attack, I'm fine._

"I'm fine. First time in the field." She gently took the hand off her shoulder and walked up to the house. She stood on the front porch and covered her nose with her hand at the odor. Drake strode up to the door, past her and kicked in the door, gun in hand. Angela hadn't realized that she had been involuntarily backing up.

This time, she followed him again through the house. Splashes of red were everywhere. The man's body was in the main part of the house, thoroughly shredded.

"Wow." Drake put his gun away and knelt down next to the body. Angela felt her power rise. She blinked, and saw the other plane, layered over the earthly one. She saw the bloody paw print trail leading out the back door.

"Be right back."

"Where-?"

But she was already gone, running out the back door, following the paw prints until she saw the creature. It reminded her of a bloody werewolf, fur missing, eyes red, sharp teeth and long claws. Angela cracked her neck, still watching the creature. She grinned, readying herself for the fight.

"In the name of my father and grandfather, you are to be sent back to Hell."

The creature leaped at her, and she ducked, planting a fist in its chest. The creature raked her with its claws and she swore. The shirt had been her mother's. "That's it!" She threw another punch on the creature's muzzle. She managed to wrestle the creature on the ground. Angela wrapped her fingers around the throat. _Please stay down. Please die. Please die._ She chanted in her head.

Finally the creature breathed its last. The redness in its eyes dulled and faded. The creature faded itself, going back to Hell. Angela closed her eyes, sending a heartfelt prayer of thanks to her father.

"Angela!"

She had momentarily forgotten her partner was there. She shakily got to her feet, and looked down at herself. "Oh, no." Her shirt was bloody as well as her skirt. The creature was gone. _What the hell am I going to say to him?_

"Angela!" His voice was close. Behind her. "Why did you run off like that? Don't you know-" She knew he had caught sight of her bloody hands. "What the hell?"

"It was a wild hellhound. But no worries, it's back in Hell."

"A hellhound? Is that why you're bleeding?"

Angela blinked. "B-Bleeding? What?" She was still confused when the world tilted, her mind seeing wild hellhounds circling them as she passed out in Drake's arms.

Chapter 2

Angela woke up to someone stroking her face. She blinked and her eyes focused. Warm brown eyes were there, but not her father's. "Drake. What happened?"

"I could ask you that same question. There were signs of a struggle and I find you outside with blood all over you."

"I told you-"

"We found a body, trachea crushed."

Angela frowned. "Human?"

"Dog. Looks like you killed a mangy mutt...with bare hands?" Drake's eyes bore into hers.

"It was a hellhound. A wild one." She groaned as she felt a sharp stab where the claws had raked her.

"Right. You think that a hellhound killed the guy?"

Angela pressed her lips together and lay back down. "Fine. It's...whatever."

"Angela-"

"I need my rest. Please Drake."

She heard the chair scrape across the floor and the door open then close. When the door closed, she closed her eyes and tears flowed.

Agent Drake Johnson couldn't get the sight of her out of his head. Her expression of shock at her bloody clothes, her hands covered and dripping in blood, her eyes glazed slightly, not seeing the mangy dog carcass at her feet. Her face going deathly pale before she passed out in his arms.

Holding her in his arms stoked a deep heat in his body. It went beyond lust. He shook his head, trying to pay attention to the road. When he got back to his office, he switched on his computer.

He typed "nephilim" into the search bar and pressed enter. Thousands of results popped up. He next typed "nephilim powers", and got better results.

"Same powers of the angelic parent." He read aloud. He surfed through the results, noting that there was a general consensus about the specific powers nephilim had. The sun had gone down outside, but down in the basement, he didn't notice. It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that he startled.

"Angela. Out of the hospital already?"

Angela stood in the doorway, dressed in a pale blue blouse and black pants that were tight. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she carried a dark red jacket over one arm. She smiled, and watched him lean back in the chair, studying her.

"I'm liking the biker-chick look."

"I have to wonder why they insist on me being on, what did thy call it? Medical leave? I'm fine."

"That's what you said before you passed out." The smile was gone. Instead, raw pain was in its place.

Angela blinked at his openness. She slowly walked forward, placing her jacket on a chair. "What are you doing now?"

"Research." At her frown, he cleared his throat. "You know, why I'm attracted to you. And why you have the effect you have on me." The smile was back, but it didn't touch his eyes.

"I told you. I'm his daughter."

"Right."

"So we solved it? Who or what killed that guy?" She hooked a toe around a leg of a chair and yanked it forward. She sat down, placing her hand on her wound near her left ribs. She glanced to him and her jaw nearly dropped. He was staring at her hand, his brown eyes dark. Those eyes met hers and she saw raw pain there. Time itself seemed to stop as she stared into his eyes, feeling a yearning in her chest. She suddenly wanted him to put his arms around her. The image of him doing so made her face flush.

She blinked, wishing this didn't happen. "So what happened to him? Who did it?"

Drake cleared his throat. His eyes were lighter in color, guarded now. "Turns out that it was the animal you killed. Don't worry. I already smoothed it over in my report. It attacked you and with the adrenaline, you killed it with bare hands. It scratched you and then you..." his voice trailed off.

"I, what?"

"Don't." He whispered.

"Drake-" The phone rang, cutting her off. He picked it up.

"Johnson. Yeah. Yeah, she's here." Angela watched as he frowned. "Wait a minute, what happened? Yeah, we'll be there. Well, she's fine to me. Yes, sir." He hung up and sighed. "We got a case."

"Really?" She watched him get his jacket on.

"Yeah. I'm going to get the file. Be right back." He smiled at her. "Stay here."

"Will do." She sighed as the door closed.

Drake closed the door and made his way to the elevator. He found the Office of Personnel Records, and wended his way through the filing cabinets. He found the correct cabinet, and pulled open the drawer. In moments, he found Angela's file.

"Angela Rogers." His eyes skimmed the pages, trying to find something unusual. On paper, she seemed, well, rather ordinary. He put the file back and closed the drawer. What was going on with her?

Angela sighed as the door closed. She went to the desk and moved the mouse, frowning as the search results page came up. "Nephilim powers?" she read in disbelief. She sat back in the chair, thinking, racking her brain. Shaking her head, she got up and grabbed her jacket, heading out.

She reached a floor and got off, heart pounding. Her side still hurt, and she wasn't going to use her powers. Walking down the hall, she thought she heard someone call her name and she turned, an iron grip suddenly on her arms.

"Oh sorry." The blond man relaxed his grip. "You're the newbie, right?"

Angela came to her senses. "Yeah. Angela Rogers. I'm um, partnered with Drake Johnson."

The man smiled. He was blond, sky-blue-eyed, and had a five-o-clock shadow on his jaw. She glanced down to his hands and didn't see any rings on his fingers.

"Are you...taken?"

"No. You?"

"No."

The man was still smiling at her. "I'm Michael Taylor. Financial Department."

"Finance? Oh wow. Quite the analytical mind?"

He leaned against the wall, making the unbuttoned part of shirt fall partly open, revealing the wing of his collarbone. "Guess you could say that. Where do you work?"

"Basement."

"Basement, right. If you need any favors, give me a call."

"Same here, but nothing sexual."

"Deal." The blue eyes reminded her of the Old Norse Vikings she saw in pictures when she was younger. _A cross between archangel Michael and a Viking, and hello, handsome!_

She noticed that he kept staring at her eyes. "What is it?"

"Are your eyes-"

"Oh, they're a genetic mutation. I have no idea where I get it from. My dad's eyes are brown, and my mom's are blue. So I have one of each."

She had noticed that his warm hands had migrated to her back, holding her in an embrace. She could smell the cologne as his face got closer to hers. She found herself tilting her head up....

"Angela!" The barked name startled her and she jumped back. Only Michael's iron grip kept her upright.

"Drake." She breathed, surprised that her partner's name came out in a resigned fashion. Michael had let her go, and she turned around. Her partner was striding up to them, several files in his hand.

"Come on, Angela. We have work to do."

Angela felt the air shift behind her and she felt Michael's hands on her shoulders. "Oh, Johnson, are you going to spank her if she doesn't comply?"

"Don't start, Taylor. She's my partner."

"Yeah, she is now, but soon there will be another one, right?"

"Taylor." The name was a growled warning. Angela delicately stepped away, leaving Drake to close the space between the two men.

Without taking his eyes off the other man, Michael addressed her. "Angela, ask him about the other partners, sometime, just you don't make the same mistake."

Angela had blinked and her jaw dropped. Michael was working his jaw, his blue eyes electric. Drake's face was a mixture of pain and anger. His fist was starting to rise again. Angela stepped in between them, facing her partner.

"Drake." Angela whispered. "Stop." His dark eyes met hers and softened. The anger had bled from his face until agony was left. He took a deep breath. "Come on. Let's go."

When they got back to their office, he slapped the files down on the desk. "What were you doing with that bastard?"

His language threw her off. "I went to go find you. I ran into him, and we got to talking."

His back was still to her. "Talking." She heard him scoff silently. "Looks like you just ended a make out session."

Angela couldn't breathe. "No. That's not what we were doing." She watched his shoulders drop.

"He's right. I've had two other partners in my time here. And they're both dead."

"Drake-" She reached out to touch him on the shoulder.

He turned and faced her. "When you passed out on me yesterday, I thought I lost you. But when you didn't-when you didn't die, you have no idea how relieved I was."

Angela closed her eyes. _Second day in the bureau, and I never expected this._ "Drake, I won't. You won't lose me. I told you, I'm nephilim. I have some powers."

He wrapped her in a tight hug. She put a hand cupping his neck and closed her eyes, feeling the power rise up. _Show me what happened_.

He felt her stiffen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. They weren't your fault. Your partners, I mean."

"How could you-?"

"No matter how many times I tell you, you won't believe me."

"If you want to transfer-"

Angela's patience was at end. Her hand came up and slapped him hard across the cheek. "I'm your partner, Drake, and I'm sticking by you, so deal with it!" She could feel her wings threatening to come out. "Now, as you said, we have work to do. I suggest we get to it."

Drake was staring at her in admiration or shock, she didn't know which. She was breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. He glanced down as she breathed in, and she relaxed, feeling small waves of a deep emotion rolling off him.

She pushed past him and settled in the chair, claiming her territory. He perched on the edge of the table.

"Is it just me or did your eyes...glow?"

"It happens when I'm mad. Trust me, you don't want to see me angry."

He frowned, his eyes honey brown. "Thought that was it." He cracked a smile, touching his eyes. It disarmed her, even though she wanted to stay angry at him. _How does he do that?_

_I told you to be nice to him._ She heard her father's chuckle in her head. She pulled a file to her and opened it up. "Stupid humans."

"What?"

"Both of you. I mean, I have never had, ever, any males fighting over me. It just doesn't happen."

"Oh, Daddy dear didn't allow you to date?"

Angela closed her eyes, remembering the numerous fights she had with her mother about dating and showing her powers. Angela had argued that since they were angelic beings, they needed to freely show their powers since they were both above humans. Meredith had argued vehemently that since they were both mortal, they had to hide their powers from the world. Lucifer, when asked his opinion, calmly said they were both right and wrong. Before he had left for Hell, he told Angela, "I just want you to be happy in whatever life you choose. Neither your mother nor I can tell you where your place is. It's up to you to find it." She had run away and joined the bureau without her mother knowing.

"Not my dad. It was my mom. She hated me dating anyone. I thought of myself as Rapunzel, and my mom as Mother Gothel. Without the long hair."

"What about your dad?"

"He just wanted me to be happy and make my own choices and decisions. Without my mother knowing, I joined the bureau."

"And ended up in the hospital."

"Yeah." Angela sighed. "If my mother found out, she'll kill me." Angela reopened the file and saw the photo. "Dead body in Virginia carved with religious symbols. How cliché. Why is it here?"

"What body?" Angela showed him the photo. "So, those are religious symbols?"

"Yeah. But the symbols they chose are just gibberish when you put them together. You'd think whoever did this, they would choose other symbols in order to make a clear message. This is clearly the work of silly amateurs whose work is embarrassing to see."

She looked up and saw him studying her. "We could use an expert in religious studies. You studied somewhere, didn't you?"

"No. Just at home. Why?"

Drake leaned back. "Just wondering. So where's that body in Virginia?"
Chapter 3

Angela shook her head upon reaching the body. The symbols seemed to be overlapping each other, like someone brought out a dictionary of symbols and started carving away.

"Dear God." Angela turned and saw Michael Taylor there behind her. "Poor kid."

"This is our case. What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you're still alive. Quite surprised, after hearing you had been in the hospital yesterday."

_What did I ever see in him?_ "Drake told me everything. None of those were his fault. So I'd appreciate it if you weren't such an ass, okay?"

Michael gave her a dazzling smile which didn't reach his eyes. "Anything for you."

"Agent Rogers!"

She recognized her partner's voice. He was kneeling over a lump of what seemed like ashes and sticks. Angela hurried over and frowned. The lump was misshapen, twisted.

"What is it?"

"Sacrifice." Drake stood up and sighed. His shirt momentarily stretched, showing no paunch whatsoever. Angela suddenly wondered what he looked like without the shirt on.

_Get a grip, girl._ "Um, why a sacrifice? To whom?"

"Ever heard of Satanists? Sacrifice black cats?"

Angela's head snapped up in horror. "These cults actually exist? They would harm innocent creatures in my father's name?"

"Your father's name?" Drake scoffed. He took her arm and led her a little away from the lump. "Listen, Rogers, keep the Devil's daughter thing to a minimum. There are crazies out there that would try to do exorcism, or worse, kill you. Partners have each other's backs, but I can't protect you when your words cause you harm." He put a finger under her chin and lifted it up, forcing her to make eye contact. "Okay?"

The sunlight hit his eyes just right, making her see various shades of brown and gold shimmering together. It was enough to take her breath away.

"Okay." She managed to whisper.

He let her go and walked away. The EMTs carted away the body and were busy taking pictures of the scene. Angela shook her head. Something had changed between them. He had let her see a side that apparently was still raw with anguish. She walked through the house, her side starting to hurt again. She found him waiting in the car, absentmindedly staring out of the idyllic countryside.

"We're a few hours from Gettysburg." He remarked as she got in.

"Gettysburg?"

"Bloodiest battle of the Civil War. The dead outnumber all American deaths in other wars up to Vietnam. My grandfather used to say, that both heaven and hell wept."

"What do you mean?"

Drake shifted in his seat. "Papa was a preacher. Baptist minister way back when. He said each side, each person, was fighting for what they believed was right. They were fighting for their respective ways of life, their families and homes, their respective countries. How could anyone sort out who goes to heaven or to hell?"

Angela was silent. How did her father manage it all? If someone changed and redeemed him or herself, did that mean they went to heaven?

Her partner sighed and started the car. "By the way, why was Taylor out there?"

"Taylor? Oh, Mike. He, uh, wanted to see the body for himself." She gritted her teeth at the lie. _Would a little lie hurt in the long run?_

"That all?"

"Yes." She looked straight at her partner when she said it.

"Promise me you'll stay away from that bastard." His voice was quiet, almost...resigned. Defeated.

"I promise, Drake."

The ride back was silent. Angela smiled at the autumn leaves falling like snow, drifting in the wind. She leaned her head on the door and closed her eyes. Her mind started wandering, piecing together clues.

First, the hellhound that Drake later said was a mangy mutt. But how did the chewed-up body become that way? She had seen the bloody paw prints on the floor when she had used her Sight.

Then, this new clue. A body carved with so many religious symbols that none of it made sense. Was a demon out on the loose? Was this a test from her father? None of the symbols made sense to her. It was like someone coughed up a dictionary.

She drifted off into sleep and dreamed....

She was walking down a long stone hallway, the shadows from the torches dancing on the walls. The hallway ended into a cavern. She frowned. The cavern was an exact replica of where she had been.

The house from the first day was there along with the body of the hellhound. Further away, was the crime scene from that morning.

" _What is this? I don't understand."_

A deep warm voice answered her. "Find the answers, daughter. The clues are all here."

" _But why?" She turned to the sound of the voice. A man was walking out from the shadows into the firelight. Splashes of red covered him. He stumbled forward and she caught him. In the light, she recognized her father's face._

He was bleeding from the mouth, his eyes a dull red. "Find the answers." He coughed and put a hand on his chest. With horror, she realized where the blood was coming from. A scream that had built up finally exploded from her chest.

Angela shot up in her seat. Her father's bloodied body was still fresh in her mind. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

"Angela." A warm hand was on her shoulder. "We're at the motel."

She could only nod. They had gotten separate rooms earlier that day and had left their luggage there. Numbly, she got out and headed to her room without looking at him. She fumbled her key, and cursed under her breath.

She finally got the door open and went inside, locking it. She kicked off her shoes and sank against the door, sliding to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself, realizing she was shaking.

Find the answers.

"Papa, what happened to you?"

A pounding on the door. "Angela, are you all right? Are you okay?"

Inside, she shook her head. _I'll never be all right. Papa's hurt. I need to know why._ She curled up by the door, still shaking, and this time crying.

Drake had seen the terrified look on her face when she woke up. He had purposely driven though the countryside and felt a deep pleasure at seeing her smile when she saw the autumn leaves drifting down on the wind.

She was still smiling when she closed her eyes and had fallen asleep. "What is this?" He heard her ask in her sleep. "I don't understand." He had parked at the motel and hesitated at waking her. Maybe her mind was sifting through everything over the past two days. Then, he finally put his hand on her shoulder, but her awakening wasn't what he expected. She had bolted upright, her eyes glowing slightly in the motel shade.

Then she had silently gotten out and went straight to her room, almost like she was trying to run away from something. He had gotten out and tried to follow, but the door was locked.

She's not okay. I need to help her.

"Angela, are you all right? Are you okay?" He pressed his ear to the door. Faintly, he heard crying. _What can I do?_

Angela uncurled from the door, groaning at the stitch in her side. She cursed the mangy mutt that clawed her. _Would that ever heal?_ She managed to get up and limp to the shower.

The hot water was soothing. She used the scented soap provided by the hotel to thoroughly scrub clean. She washed her hair, turning the water to scalding. Once done, she got out and dressed in a pajama set and robe.

She was brushing her hair and was trying to get a knot out when there was a knock on the door. Angela got up and glanced at the time. It was just after six in the evening. _We got back around two, right?_ _It didn't take that long getting back._

Angela opened the door, and blinked. Her partner was dressed in a tight white t-shirt and black pants. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." She stepped back and let him in, gasping when he suddenly wrapped her in a tight hug. Pressed against his chest, her hands felt the muscles underneath, the tight abs. His hands went to her shoulders and pushed her away slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"It was just a nightmare. Everything that happened, that's happening now, it's a lot." His shoulders relaxed in relief. His strong arms were around her again, making her heart race. "Drake, could you...stay with me tonight?"

She felt him stiffen. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Chapter 4

Angela fell asleep in the bed with him lying next to her in a spooning position, one hand rubbing her shoulder. She woke up the next morning, feeling rested, no nightmares or dreams. When she opened her eyes, she sensed emptiness in the room. She rolled over and saw he wasn't there in the bed.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Angela looked up. He was sitting at the desk in the room, papers and photos spread out. She felt herself blush when she fully realized he had spent the night in her bed. She was surprised that he was dressed in the same way as last night.

"Morning."

Drake indicated the desk. "I was trying to piece together messages here."

"The symbols? I told you they were gibberish."

"Don't think so."

Frowning, Angela got up and went over to the desk. She pointed to a five pointed star with a goat head outline. "This is used by people to conjure Satan."

"The double lightning?"

"Used by Nazis, mainly. The SS used it, so it became a symbol of evil."

Drake shifted the photos. "Here's a cross. Why would the body have it?"

Angela leaned against the desk. "The inverted cross was because St. Peter thought himself unworthy to be crucified in the same manner as Jesus. The guy had a deep reverence for Christ, and was pretty much his right-hand man. 'Upon this rock I will build my church.' Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, from Bible school. Peter derived his name from petros, meaning rock. But why is Satan associated with goats?"

"Never liked the cheese. Always gave me a stomachache." She sighed. "I don't know."

Drake found a photo and placed it on top. "The numbers 6-6-6. Sign of evil, right?"

Angela shook her head in disbelief. "Right. And 3-3-3 is only half-evil." She smiled, and he returned it, his eyes twinkling.

"Okay. So we established these are Satanic. Maybe he was a sacrifice."

"To Dad? Really? The poor sap is probably already in heaven."

"Why would he be in heaven?"

She sat down on the bed. Her partner seated himself beside her. "Well, he's young, innocent, and only pretending to be bad. Those who worship my father aren't necessarily evil. Even I worship him, and my grandfather."

"God?"

"Yes. My dad is still a son of God. Just because he's lord of Hell doesn't mean that he's stopped being His son." Her partner was silent. "Anyway, we got to find a cult or something that did this."

His cell phone rang in his pocket. "Johnson. Okay. Thanks." He put the phone on the desk. "They found traces of cocaine on his clothes."

"Suicide?"

Drake got up from the bed and paced. "Maybe. What if, hear me out, what if he wanted this? What if he wanted to be sacrificed?"

Angela took a deep breath. "I'd like to see the body."

Hours later, Angela had put her hair in a braid, and was following Drake into the local coroner's office. The coroner, a middle-aged woman, had already set up the body. "Y'all let me know if'n ya need anything."

"Thank you."

She left them alone, and Angela pulled back the sheet, her fingers trembling. The corpse had been washed clean, clearly seeing the overlapping symbols, a pattern carved over and over. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She rarely had to use this particular power, but this time it was necessary. She opened her eyes and placed her hand on the boy's chest.

_Why did you want this?_ Her mind touched his. The images came back jumbled, fragmented, scattered. A girl, crying, begging and pleading. A hand holding a white powdery substance. Someone dressed in black holding a knife. A bottle of wine. An altar.

Other images started to make a pathway. Street signs, roads, landscapes all came together to form a coherent image. _I know where this is._

She took her hand off and noticed Drake staring at her. "What is it?"

"I know what happened."

"Okay." He followed her out the door. "What do you mean? He was sacrificed?"

Angela stopped in the hall. "He wanted it. Heartbreak would do that to someone."

Drake frowned. "Heartbreak?"

"I saw the name of a girl on his chest over his heart. He still loved her."

"Okay, that narrows it down." Drake pulled his phone out. "This is Agent Drake Johnson, I need you to run a name for me."

"Penny Smith."

He repeated the name and location. "Thanks." He turned to his partner. "They'll call me later."

"Maybe we can find her ourselves."

Angela dug into the sinfully delicious cobbler at the local diner. Drake sat silently across from her, studying her.

"Tell me something."

"Hm?"

"Have you...ever-"

She saved him from phrasing the question. "Like last night?"

"Yeah."

"Are you asking for my number?" At his shift in his seat, she smiled. "More than five, less than a hundred."

He rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully at her response. "That's quite a ballpark figure."

Angela studied his eyes. "Last night was probably the only night that someone slept in my bed without sex."

"First for everything." He grinned, touching his eyes.

She sighed in exasperation. "What happened to you, Drake? First you say you're addicted to me, then you turn right around and push me away."

"I didn't push you away." The grin was gone.

"You didn't want me sexually anymore. Just after what? Two days? That's pretty fast. Most guys it takes minimum, a week to get over me."

"You almost _died_. How the hell was I supposed to feel after watching you collapse, covered in blood? Bad part was, you tried to make yourself presentable when you heard me approaching."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. I'm sorry."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "It's going to be okay. I promise." His phone rang in his pocket. He released her hand, but Angela felt the warm aftereffects in her chest. As he spoke, Angela couldn't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. Suddenly the cobbler tasted perfect again.

"So, they tracked down Penny Smith, our dearly departed's _corazon_." Agent Drake Johnson updated his partner as they were walking up the winding driveway. "He was reportedly her boyfriend before they broke up."

"Wait, they broke up?"

"Yep. Before he chose to off himself." He knocked on the door. "Ms. Smith? It's the FBI. We have a few questions."

The door opened and a blonde girl stood there, mascara smudged under her eyes and on her cheeks. "About what?"

"About Jeremy Hanson. Can we come in?" Angela asked.

"Okay."

"How long did you know him?" Drake asked her as she led them to the couch.

"Um, we broke up a week ago. He was acting crazy."

"We found traces of cocaine on his clothes."

"Yeah, he was a big user. That's partly why I broke up with him. I wanted him to get clean, but he refused."

Angela settled on the couch next to the small girl. "Penny, look at me." Penny did and Angela touched her mind with her power. "Tell me what happened."

Penny's eyes glazed over and she started talking. "He was acting crazy after I told him I wanted to break it off. We had gone to the meeting there in the woods by his house where he wanted to be a sacrifice. I begged him not to, but he demanded it. He changed the order we did things. We usually drink some wine and have a pretend sacrifice. He wanted the real thing."

"How did he change the order?" Angela prompted.

"He mixed cocaine with the wine and drank the whole bottle. Then he collapsed. I tried to perform CPR, but...he was already gone."

"Then your leader carved on him?"

Penny looked like she was about to cry. "It's what he wanted."

Angela stepped away from the couch, turning to her partner. "So he committed suicide, then the leader carved on him because it's what Jeremy wanted. So what do we do now?"

Drake rubbed his jaw. Angela noticed day-old stubble forming. "Well, not much we can do. Wait." He went over to Penny. "What is the name of your cult leader?"

"I have a whole list. I was the secretary, so to speak."

"Get it for us?" Penny nodded and left.

Angela crossed her arms. "So, what? We find the leader, charge him with carving on a corpse? Why isn't local law enforcement doing anything about this?"

"I don't know. To both questions. Something's going on here."

"Yeah, it's called Hell on Earth."

"Stop." He snapped. "I told you keep the Devil daughter thing put away."

"You're the daughter of Lucifer?" Penny was staring at Angela. Before Angela could say anything, Drake cut her off.

"No, Penny. She just likes to tell everyone she is. Bit of an atheist, really." His smile was cold, not touching his eyes at all.

Angela could tell the girl didn't believe them. "Here's the list. There are only ten of us now with Jeremy gone."

"Thanks."

Chapter 5

"What the hell were you thinking?" Drake slammed the driver's door, his eyes dark. Angela put her seatbelt on before answering.

"What do you mean?"

"These kids are gullible. Throwing out a juicy tidbit like you're the Devil's daughter would make them do stupid shit that could get them killed. Think, Angela!"

"You don't believe me that I am."

"No I don't."

"What about that first day?" She demanded, then instantly regretted her tone. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You mean, when you almost died?" His voice came out ragged.

"No, when we first met in the office. You were...I don't know how to explain it."

"You mean when you tried to seduce me?"

"Excuse me?"

"You did." The lightheartedness tone had returned, making her inwardly pleased and relieved.

"Did not. You said you're addicted to me. Not my fault." She playfully tossed her hair.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Angela looked over at him and saw the playfulness in his eyes. "Besides, that was just a taste." She stretched, breathing deeply.

Drake forced his attention to return to the road. Her blouse had stretched over her chest and his eyes automatically went to her side, the image of her bloodied in his arms suddenly flashing in his mind. _Not again. Not ever again. I won't lose this one._

The memory came without warning. The look on his female partner's face as she waited for the gunman to pull the trigger, the calm but defiant look in her eyes as the muzzle pressed to her head, the deafening bang.

He had been beaten up as he tried to escape and eventually, he was found. But it was too late. Nothing mattered. Samantha was dead, and he was helpless to stop it. He had kept a secret out of his report, one that he carried in his heart.

The next partner was a transfer from Financial Services. The kid was young, had a girlfriend, and a rookie. Drake had been reluctant to take him out in the field, but the higher-ups insisted. Drake hadn't been expecting a shoot-out when they knocked on a door of suspected gangsters. Bullets riddled the porch, and the kid was down. Drake had called for backup and minutes later, sirens were heard. The gangsters were rounded up and charged accordingly. But Drake's partner died of his injuries soon after reaching the hospital. Upon his return to the bureau, he specifically requested no more partners. A request that was heard but ignored.

Angela watched his features change. She saw he was remembering something, something perhaps terrible as he had blinked a few times and shaken his head to clear it.

"Drake, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"If you say so." She smiled as her response earned her an eye-roll. "So where is this leader?"

"Right here." They pulled up into the driveway. Angela got out, and stretched, leaning backwards, hearing her back crack. She yearned to stretch her wings, but she knew he would probably freak out.

Up at the house, Drake knocked on the door. No answer. "FBI! Open up!" The door was opened by a small kid, no more than ten years old.

Angela smiled. "Hi, is Peter home? We need to speak with him."

"He's in the back."

"The backyard?"

The boy frowned. "No. By the granite boulder, having a meeting. I can show you." He went out the door and the two agents followed. After going about a mile, Angela had to stop.

"Where is this boulder, kid?"

The boy had stopped near a hill. "Just over there. Peter says I'm not allowed to go there when he has his meetings."

Drake strode up the hill and disappeared over it. Angela waited for what seemed like an eternity before he reappeared. "Yeah, they're there. Kid, go back to the house and stay there. Understand?" The boy nodded, clearly relieved, and took off like a rabbit back to the house.

Angela came over the hill and stopped. She heard the chanting, and saw the fire near the altar. They crept closer and Angela saw a young man sitting on the altar, blindfolded, and drinking from a bottle the size of a wine bottle.

"That knife is real." She whispered to Drake. "We have to stop this."

"Angela!" Drake gasped. She was by his side one second, then next second she was almost upon them.

The sun had set, making that section of forest dark except for the firelight. She had frozen time momentarily then made it resume upon her approach. She saw the knife rise up, and she snapped her fingers.

Time froze again. She plucked the knife out of the "priest's" hands, and she blinked, letting time resume. The priest brought his hands down, then froze. She addressed the priest.

"Looking for this? You must be the one who carved up Jeremy."

Her answer came from an unexpected source. The man on the table spoke up. "I did that. Jeremy wanted it."

"Right. So now, it's what you want? To die, and then be carved like a turkey?"

The man took off his blindfold. "Who the hell are you?"

"Angela Rogers Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer himself." She smiled as she made her eyes glow with the respective colors. Her brown eye glowed red, her blue one glowed white. Her smile widened into a grin, knowing that he believed her. His eyes widened and he started to choke. Angela continued grinning until she heard mewing coming from a dark crate near the altar.

"Are there cats here?"

One of the other attendees spoke up. "Yeah. Why?"

Angela stopped by the crate. "You would sacrifice cats to my father?" There was bitterness in her mouth and throat as she asked the question. There were nods all around. The knife clattered to the altar as a fury built up in her chest. "Shame on you." She knelt down to the crate and was about to open it when an iron grip was suddenly on her shoulder and cold steel was pressed against her neck.

She was forced to stand up and her eyes widened slightly. Her partner was standing there on the other side of the altar. Drake's face was a mix of pain and cold fury. "Let her go." His voice was cold as ice, gun drawn.

"We need a sacrifice." The boy said, almost sounding rote. The word "sacrifice" was picked up and quietly chanted by the circle of attendees.

"Let. Her. Go." Drake had his finger on the trigger. Angela's throat tightened with realization of just how much he cared for her.

Several things happened at once. She forced her head down, gritting her teeth when the kid jerked the knife. She heard someone scream, then there was a deafening bang and the iron grip released. Angela turned around and saw the kid had a bullet hole in his forehead.

The other attendees tried to flee. But soon shouts of "Freeze!" came from the trees. Police officers swarmed out the forest, surrounding the circle and cuffing them. Drake put his arms around her and she sank into them, gratefully.

Angela sighed as she closed the drawer after filing her report. A mewing nearby made her smile. The three black kittens were adorable. One had green eyes, another had blue and the mostly black one (it had small patches of white) had gold ones. She later learned that the black and white one was a male. The other two were females. They had all been taken to the vet and spayed and neutered. She had even picked out names for them: the green-eyed one was initially called Abbadon, but after finding out it was female, she shortened it to Abby; the blue-eyed one was called Eve, and the male was still un-named. She was still thinking about an appropriate name when Drake came in.

"What in God's name are they doing here?"

"Well, someone had to take them. The shelter said that they were full up. But I think the lady there was very superstitious."

"Just as long as they don't make a mess."

"Well, Abby and Eve won't. The black and white one, I still can't figure out a name."

"Biblical or Satanic?"

"Both."

"Hmm." Drake studied the kitten as it snoozed next to Eve. "How about Lucius?"

"Lucius? Not Lucifer?"

"No. Lucius. Maybe call him Lucky."

Angela had to laugh at his reasoning. The kittens were all lucky that they weren't sacrificed in her father's name. "Not Lucius Brutus? Where's Caesar?"

Drake had taken off his jacket and went to hug her. His fingers found the faint scar on her neck. When she had forced her head down, she felt the bite of cold steel and the warm liquid flowing down her chest, staining her shirt. It was only superficial, thankfully. Angela also clearly remembered the cold look on his face when he held the gun steady. His eyes looked black in the firelight, his body still like a statue.

It had terrified her. She breathed his scent deeply and looked up into his eyes. She felt the urge to kiss him, and yearned for him to do so as well. She felt a sharp stab of rejection when he let her go and went to the desk. The feeling was confusing. She ignored it and pulled out a file from the stack and handed it to him.

"So, what's next for us?" He smiled at her.

Lucifer Morningstar coughed, groaning. He was holding his chest, trying in vain to stanch the bleeding. A voice whispered in his ear, words of defeat. He growled in return.

" _I am Lucifer Morningstar, son of God, Lord of Hell, Prince of Darkness."_

" _Ah, but you're soft." The voice whispered. "A child on earth. A child of your blood. A child of heaven, hell, and earth. Mortal. Easy to hurt, to injure, to kill."_

" _Stay away from her!" Lucifer barked, then cried out as the blood flowed more freely through his fingers._

He heard laughter. "Your father can't help you now. No one can, Lucifer. You're alone. You're all alone. Alone."

_The voice faded. The face of his daughter floated in his mind._ I'm not alone.

" _Angela. I love you."_

Chapter 6

Angela hummed to herself as she fluffed her hair in the bathroom of the bureau. The scar on her neck was faint now. She had wanted to take a few moments to herself before starting the next case the next morning. She was still no closer to an answer than before. The door opened and in came another female agent, smacking gum.

"You the new girl?" The blonde asked.

"Yes. Angela Rogers. Drake's partner."

"Drake Johnson?" the agent's tone was of disbelief.

"Yes. Why?" Angela looked at her.

"Sorry. I'm Lee Tate. You know that he slept with his first partner?" Lee asked her in a conspiratorial whisper.

"No I didn't. So when she got killed-"

"He didn't tell you." Lee gasped. "She was pregnant with his kid. He didn't tell you, right?"

Angela shook her head numbly. When she had seen his memories of what had happened to them, she hadn't known the secret. "Does everyone know?"

"Yeah. It came out with the autopsy."

"But she was shot. Why did they order an autopsy?"

Lee shook her head. "Who knows? The higher-ups did. I guess they were investigating him or something."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

Angela's chest felt tight. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just want you to be careful, okay? He specifically requested no more partners and now he's with you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Angela, only you can save him now." To Angela, it seemed the agent smiled, her brown eyes shimmering slightly. "Your father, I mean."

Angela gasped and blinked. The agent wasn't there. Angela shook her head and headed out, not realizing she had reached the basement. _My sanctuary._

Once inside, she headed to the closet, pulling out a small portable file box. She opened it and took out the files, spreading the drawings and notes out on the floor. Angela sat down, remembering the agent's words. _You can save him. Your father, I mean._

She had spent the time in the hospital and during the night writing extensive notes and drawing extensively. She had added to the file, adding her notes on the cases. Angela didn't hear the door open.

"What's this? A new case?"

"It's nothing." She winced as she felt the bitterness of the lie in her throat. "Just something I put together."

"Why?"

"It's nothing!" Angela was shocked at her tone. She heard Drake's footsteps recede to the desk. Angela cursed herself and got up, walking to the desk where he was bent over some files. "I'm sorry, Drake. I just had a scare this morning, that's all."

"What do you mean?"

Angela closed her eyes. _I need to tell him._ She opened her eyes and started with her dream in the car, the speculative connections of the cases, and she told him about the agent and what she had said about her father, leaving out the details about his former partner. She ended it with, "And that really scares me. I hate that I'm powerless here."

Drake was silent, thinking.

"You still don't believe me?"

Drake shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Angela. I'm just not seeing it."

Angela looked away and bit her lip. "Fine. Here's the truth." She stood up and unbuttoned her blouse.

"Angela, what are you doing?"

"Showing you the truth about me." She stripped off the blouse and turned around, showing him her back. She sighed and felt her wings come out. She closed her eyes, stretching them, feeling the welcome burn in the muscles. She opened her eyes and turned to face him, her eyes glowing.

She saw the range of emotions play out: shock, wonder, curiosity, and then he took a breath and nodded. "That explains a lot."

"But?" She asked as she put on her blouse.

"How can this be solved here on earth?"

"I don't know. Dad said to find the answers. But, it begs the question: if angels and demons can hurt each other, what can kill them?"

"Each other?"

"That's just it. My dad is the Lord of Hell. Pretty much equal to God in a way. So what can hurt him like that?" Angela went over to stand by the window.

Drake got up and put his arms around her shoulders. He felt her stiffen, then slowly relax. "What's wrong?"

"What happened with Samantha?" She was still facing the window.

Drake couldn't breathe. "What do you know?"

"You fell hard for her. Her death was hard on you."

Drake turned away from her. The memory of Samantha dying segued into his memories of Angela at the altar with a knife to her throat. Both times he was helpless.

Not this time.

Drake sighed. "She was three months along when she died. She told me when she got sick. We kept it quiet, on the down low, deflecting questions, not telling anyone. After it came out with the autopsy," he sighed, "I was a mess. I was assigned a newbie partner, a rookie kid. We went to a drug house and after announcing ourselves, we got bullets in response. He died after reaching the hospital. After that, I said no more partners." He scoffed at the memory. "And they ignored me. That's why you're here."

He had turned around to face her. He watched her shoulders slowly drop. She had her eyes closed, and when he walked closer to her, he saw tears silently flowing down her cheeks. He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and wrapping his arms around her. He buried his nose in her hair, smelling her shampoo. His nose remembered her smelling of blood when she had collapsed in his arms.

The memory also brought to mind what she had said. _It was a hellhound. I saw the paw print trail._ He found his arms squeezing her harder. He felt her body relax and a deep heat rushed through his body.

Angela felt his arms tighten around her. Her heart swelled when she sensed the emotion rolling over him now. She had to smile to herself and relax in his arms. _He cares for me now. I think he loves me!_

The moment was ruined when there was a knock on the door. Drake released her and she saw his eyes were honey-brown. He opened the door and took the file from the courier.

"What is it?"

"Apparently a new case. Oh, Lord." Drake realized what he was seeing in the photos. There were four bodies at the scene, throats cut, blankets of red and brown everywhere.

"No religious symbols." Angela looked up at him. "Shall we, partner?"

The bodies were found in Maryland, near a river. Angela walked the banks, hearing the waters gurgle as they rushed over the rocks. Drake was busy talking with the local officers, getting details.

When he was done, he came up to her side. "Same as last time. Cult went too far and, well, there was no one left alive to do the carving."

"So why were we assigned?"

"You keep asking that. Do you think this has anything to do with your dad?"

Angela had to smile. "You finally believe me and you're fine with it."

His grin touched his eyes. The light had filtered through the trees, touching his eyes, illuminating the various shades. It took her breath away.

"Of course. I'll be a good boy and not-" his eyes swept over her frame to silently finish his sentence.

"Oh, thanks. Afraid you'll like it?"

"I won't damn my soul, right?"

Angela tossed her hair. "That's up to you." She walked away from him, smiling to herself. She closed her eyes, feeling the Sight coming on. She opened them and noticed that there were no paw print trails. Instead she saw symbols shining in fire where the bodies had lain. She saw the number 69, which she thought was unusual. _What, was his astrological sign Pisces?_ Turning around, she saw the five-pointed star in a circle. The last two symbols were the double lightning shape, and the inverted cross.

"What do you see? Any mangy mutts?"

"No. Symbols."

"Really? Like what?"

Angela described everything she was seeing. "We need to piece this together. Someone did this to them and left the symbols as a message to me. But what it is, I don't know."

"Well, why don't we go somewhere and look at this in the morning?" Drake's face looked innocent.

"What, want to go to a bar?"

Drake grinned. "Why Agent Rogers, I didn't know you could be so bold at asking me out."

Angela narrowed her eyes at him. "I thought my dad was supposedly the trickster. Fine, let's go."

At a small bar, Angela threw back her two shots and gasped at the burning liquid down her throat. Drake had a beer he was absentmindedly rubbing with his fingers.

"Drake, about that time-"

"There were plenty."

"Are we back to the whole 'you're addicted to me' thing, or what?"

Drake took a swill of beer. "Well, yes and no. I am addicted to you, and now I know why. You showed me what you are, and now I feel that I'm never leaving your side. Where you go, I go."

"Yeah, but, if I have to go into hell? Would you follow?"

"I'll do my damnedest to try. If I have to raise Hell, I would."

Angela breathed deeply, loving the warm pleasant buzzing feeling in her chest. The bar had advertised karaoke night, and the person on the stage ended his song. Angela didn't think. She got up and started walking to the stage.

"I'll think I'll sing next."

The DJ put in her request and started the music. She watched Drake's expression as she sang the lyrics to Britney Spears' song Toxic. She felt her power roll off her into the room. It touched Drake in particular, who smiled. When the song ended, the room erupted in cheers.

She smiled when the patrons shouted for more. _This is how I feel about you, Drake._ Angela started singing Stand By You, still looking in her partner's direction. The beer was abandoned, he was laughing and grinning.

Drake had never heard her sing before. When the music started, he couldn't breathe when she opened her mouth and sweet notes came out. He could feel her power touch him, a warm feeling that made his heart swell.

When she ended the song, and the others shouted for more, he noticed she blushed before starting Stand By You. Once he heard the lyrics, once he saw how she looked at him, the realization hit. _She feels the same way!_

He marveled at the epiphany, watching her sway her body, getting into the music, declaring herself through song. Drake found he was grinning, his beer abandoned. He had heard about people saying they thought they saw angels, but he himself had never seen one until now.

I'm in love with a nephilim. And she feels the same way.

He hadn't noticed the song end. She was making her way back to her seat. Angela sat down, face flushed, breathing heavily.

"Wow, I hadn't done that much singing in a long time." She said breathless. Drake chuckled and pushed his beer towards her. She eagerly took a swill from it.

Angela, I love you.

"Say something?"

"No. Why?"

"I thought you said-" Angela hesitated at saying the words. _Did he really just say he loved me? Could I actually hear his thoughts without actually trying?_

"What?"

"Never mind. I must be hearing things." Angela swallowed, her heart still racing. She was certain he said the words outright. Drake was still watching her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She threw a smile in his direction.

Drake leaned back in the chair. He knew for certain she heard him. He decided to try it again. _Angela, I love you so much. I don't want to lose you._

"How many times did I tell you? You won't lose me."

"So you did hear me." Drake whispered.

Angela studied him, the shock of the realization clearly showing on her face. "I heard you. Without trying."

Drake bit his lower lip. "Tell me, do you feel the same way?"

Angela couldn't breathe. _Oh Father, this changes things._ "Yes. Yes I love you."

It seemed surreal. They left the bar and headed to the motel where she pulled him to her room. Once inside, she gasped as his mouth was on hers, his strong arms around her. He walked her backward to the bed, picking her up and laying her down with him on top. His hot breath was on her neck and chest, his fingers fumbling her blouse.

Her hands ripped his shirt off, marveling at his toned body. She knew he was pushing fifty, but had the body of a thirty-year-old. Her fingers tangled in his hair as the rest of the clothes came off, and gasped at the exquisite ecstasy building up inside her. When the release came, she arched her back and her wings suddenly came out, wrapping them both in sweet embrace.
Chapter 7

Angela woke up with a headache. She sat up, groaning, and noticed something odd. _Why are Drake's clothes here?_ _What did we do last night?_

She heard water running in the bathroom. Drake came out, his hair wet from a shower. "Morning." He said cheerfully.

He got a groan in response. "What the hell happened?" Angela had her head hanging, eyes closed.

"Oh boy. You have a hangover."

"I normally don't drink that much." Angela noticed she was naked when she shifted under the covers. It hit her hard what they had done. _His clothes, I'm naked...oh no._

"Yes, we did."

"Mm." Angela felt his warm hands on her bare shoulders.

"Come on, a shower would make you feel better." He managed to coax her out of bed and into the shower. She was thankful he was there to keep her upright.

Angela's headache was gone away mostly after swallowing some pain reliever medication. "Tell me, we did, didn't we?"

"Oh, yes we did. Several times, in fact."

Angela closed her eyes. "Several."

"I bet I'm the only human who's ever slept with a nephilim." Angela stared at him. He was leaning against the desk in the room, grinning smugly. "You said between five and a hundred. How many knew what you are?"

"No one. Except you."

That made his grin wider. "So, hopefully I'm the last one. The last number."

Angela scoffed. "So we're back to that, then. Was I too loud?"

"Oh, no, you were just right. Love it all, especially when the wings came out when you did."

"My wings came out."

Drake seated himself on the bed, the grin never leaving his face. "Oh, yes. The whole time. That never happened with the others?"

Angela shook her head. "Never." She could tell he was thoroughly pleased with himself for last night. _I could use some breakfast._ She shook her head and voiced her thought aloud.

Drake was still grinning like a schoolboy. "Fair enough. I know where a good restaurant is."

Drake couldn't believe last night actually happened. It was like his personal heaven-on-earth. She had fallen asleep in his arms, limbs entangled, wings limp. He had watched her sleep, marveling at the situation. She had twitched and spoken aloud in her sleep.

"Papa, I'm coming. I'll figure this out, I promise. Stay with me, Papa. Stay with me."

Drake had kissed her forehead and stroked her brown hair, making her smile. He had fallen asleep soon after, and had woken her early in the morning, making love to her again. Sometime during the night, her wings had disappeared.

He had gotten up shortly after and had taken a shower, having a slight headache. After his partners' deaths, he had sunk into the bottle. He could handle the liquor, but apparently she couldn't. He had gotten out of the shower and saw her sit up in bed, her hair tousled and wild.

He couldn't help but grin at the shocked look on her face when she put the pieces together. His clothes, her nakedness....He couldn't resist rubbing it in.

Later that day, he watched her as she walked around the scene again, her brow furrowing in concentration. She would stand somewhere, breathing almost in meditation, and her eyes seemed to glow slightly. Either he was imagining her eyes glowing or it was because of the warm glow in his chest.

Angela had wanted to come back to the crime scene to see if she had missed anything. The real reason was that she had remembered everything from last night once her headache went away, and she was flustered. She secretly wanted some time and physical space to herself.

So she was here, walking around again, without using her power. _What am I missing?_ _What message is it sending? Why is Papa bleeding?_

"What is it." She whispered aloud. "Not what. Who."

"Angela?"

"Sh. I'm thinking." _The inverted cross of St. Peter. That was found on the carved up bodies. The double lightning was there too well as the five-pointed star. Agent Tate said I could save my father._

Drake saw her eyes light up. "Lee."

"What?"

"The agent Lee Tate. I blinked and she was gone. But in Biblical meanings, the name Lee means healer or lion. Now what angel is also known as a healer?"

"No idea."

"Raphael. The archangel Raphael, one of the three archangels. There's Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael. Gabriel is the messenger, Michael is the general, and Raphael is the healer. His name means, 'God heals'."

"So, wait, how do we save your dad?"

"I still don't know. But the symbols of the star, cross, and lightning are significant in some way."

Drake licked his lips. "Can you go down to hell at all?"

"I won't do my father any good if I go blindly stumbling around, trying to find whoever did this to him. I need to have a good clear plan."

"With an angel on your side."

"Yeah."

Drake wrapped his arms around her. "We'll find out together, Angela. I promise you that."

Angela breathed in his musky scent from his shirt. "I know we will." Secretly, Angela knew that humans couldn't go into Hell unless they died. Half-breeds could, but they were subject to the same laws as all other spiritual beings.

Being a princess of Hell means that someday I will take over for my father. But I need to find him first.

On the way back to the motel, Drake was humming to the radio, as it was playing an upbeat religious song. The song ended and another one she recognized as Flashlight came on. Angela started singing along, turning it down so she could sing the main part.

Drake glanced at her and found himself grinning. She had her head back, brown hair back over her shoulders, eyes closed. His eyes roved over her neck and noticed she had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing a hint of black lace bra.

His heart raced and he felt a deep heat in his body as the memory of that night flashed through his mind. His foot pressed more on the accelerator, eager to get back to the motel and do more.

Angela flipped through the stations until she recognized a Britney Spears song. She bobbed her head to the music of Toxic. She glanced over to Drake whose hands had tightened on the steering wheel. She noticed the car was going faster then before. Angela's eyes noticed the speedometer, which read 65. _We're in a 55 zone._

"Drake! Slow down!" Angela shrieked.

"What?"

"You're going 65 in a 55 zone!"

Drake cursed under his breath and slowed down. Angela whipped around behind her, trying to see if any cops were behind them. He sighed.

"Babe, we're not going to get caught. Relax."

"Did you just call me 'babe'?" Angela blinked, seeing him grin.

"I did, yeah."

"But-"

"Yours is nice."

"We can't."

Drake glanced to her, frowning, then pulled the car over on the shoulder. He turned off the ignition and turned to face her. Angela saw his eyes darken in confusion and something deeper.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"We can't call each other babe or anything else of endearment when we're around others."

Drake nodded. She saw a light of realization in his eyes. "Right. So Taylor can, but I can't?"

"That's not it."

"Yeah, it is. I heard him call you endearment names before. And you never said no."

"This isn't-"

Drake turned back to face the road. "Right. Just as I thought."

"What?"

"I saw you that day. Face flushed, feeling flustered. Looking at him as if he was an angel."

"You're jealous." Angela whispered.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, but-"

Drake cut her off. "Figures. God answered my prayer finally."

Angela frowned. "What does that mean?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he tried to start the engine again. It squealed and turned over. Angela felt tears coming and spilling over, down her cheeks. As Drake got out and popped the hood, Angela sniffed, wiping the tears from her face. She snapped her fingers and time froze.

She spread her wings and closed her eyes. _Where can I go?_ A face suddenly floated in her mind: Michael Taylor. Angela took off, beating her wings, soaring over the countryside until it turned into buildings and cities.

Before she knew it, she was walking through the doors of the FBI building. The trip of the elevator and walking down the halls seemed to take no time at all and an eternity at the same time.

Where is he?

"Excuse me, do you know where Michael Taylor is?" she asked an agent who shrugged.

"I heard my name." She turned around and saw him there, smiling. Without thinking, she walked up and threw her arms around him, the tears threatening again.

He gently pulled her away. "What's wrong?"

"Could I come into your office?"

"Sure." His blue eyes were bluer than the sky. He led her down the hallway and into a room. "Care for a drink?"

"Just water."

He handed her a glass of water and watched her sip it. "Sit down. Tell me what happened."

"Where do I start? What I am or the fight we had?" She sank down onto the couch, balancing the glass in her hand. Michael sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Start at the beginning."

Drake popped the hood and sighed. He checked everything and didn't see anything wrong. He slammed the hood down in frustration. He had seen her face when she said he couldn't call her endearment names. _I heard Michael call her those names. She never said, don't._

The warm glow in his chest had turned to cold ice. He felt empty inside, like the fire had turned to cold ash. He raised his head and said the passenger door open. "Angela? He turned around, looking in all directions. "Angela!" he called, his heart racing.

Where did she go?

He noticed the feather on the ground near the passenger door. _She went home._ He tucked the feather into a pocket, and turned the keys in the ignition. The car started and he continued to the motel.

When he got back, he loaded his luggage in the car and checked her room. The luggage was gone, no notes left. The room was completely clean. He put a hand to his chest. Seeing her empty room made the emotional wound in his heart reopen. It was as if she didn't exist anymore.

_First Samantha, now her._ "Angela, I love you." He spoke to the empty room.

Chapter 8

"My God, Angela, that's quite a story."

Angela smiled. "Sounds crazy, right?"

The light through his blinds hit his eyes just right. She saw shades of blue and white. _The color of sky and clouds._ "Yeah, extremely crazy, but it somehow makes sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Why you run off, why your eyes change color-"

"Change color?"

"Yeah, your eyes seem to glow or something. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, only I'm angry. I uh, get it from my dad."

"Right. Lucifer." Angela closed her eyes and sighed. She stood up and started undoing her blouse. She had frozen time outside the office, but not inside it. "Whoa! What the hell are you doing?"

She opened her eyes. "Showing you what Drake saw." She let the blouse fall and spread her wings. One wing was shiny black and the other was pure white. She gasped as she felt fingers on her wings.

"They're gorgeous." Michael breathed. She turned back around and let her eyes glow, in addition to spreading her wings. She was confused when he grinned, his eyes sweeping over her body. "So, you don't do sexy-devil-angel for Halloween? I wouldn't mind it."

That lighthearted way he said it made her burst out laughing. She had expected something of a shock but he easily accepted her for what she was. She put her blouse back on.

He put down his glass and strode over to her, a desire in his eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and she automatically lifted her chin up. She let out a gasp as he kissed her, his lips soft against hers. She felt like she was floating, a breath of fresh air fanning the flames of passion.

She nearly hyperventilated as he tore his mouth from hers and was on her neck. His hands went to her waist, pressing her close to him. She threw her head back, wanting more. His mouth found hers again, and she found she was kissing him back.

She knew she hadn't frozen time nor sped it up. It seemed that way in Michael's arms. Her fingers tangled in his blond hair, inhaling his scent. His arms were tight around her, pressing her close to him. Angela could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt.

"Do you want to go anywhere?" He whispered in her ear.

"Home. Just take me home."

Drake opened the door to the basement office and froze. Angela wasn't there. Her jacket that she had forgotten earlier, was gone. He closed his eyes. _Please don't tell me._

He dug out his phone and dialed her number. The ringing went to voicemail and he hung up, his chest feeling empty, hollow. He went back up to the lobby and went to the nearest desk.

"Do you know if Agent Angela Rogers came back here?"

The officer at the desk nodded. "Yes, sir. She left with Agent Taylor."

"Mike Taylor? Tall, blonde Mike Taylor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks." Drake couldn't believe it. She had been there and had gone straight to Taylor. Unsure what to do, he headed out to the garage and got in his car. He was at home before he realized where he had been going.

Absentmindedly, he dug out the whisky bottles he hadn't touched since coming clean. He put the bottle on the kitchen counter and opened his medicine cabinet, pulling out pill bottles and opening them, dumping them into his hand. He was numb inside, his memories of Angela overlapping with those of Samantha. Samantha had been similar to Angela. Different features, but she liked singing and she could play the piano quite well. He had liked hearing her play and sing. He had fallen hard for Samantha, and the feeling was mutual. They had tried to keep it quiet.

It had seemed like an ordinary night. Then, the ambush. The beatings. Her tied to a chair and defiant to the end. He was held, forced to watch the man pull the trigger. Hearing the deafening bang. Those memories overlapped with Angela.

Her singing at the bar, swaying her body to the music. Her laughing in the car. Then, the bloody memory of the first day. Her collapsing in his arms. Her standing at the altar, a knife to her throat. Her empty motel room. Samantha's office was empty the next day, her things taken out by her sister.

Drake dumped more pills into his hand and washed them down with the bottle of whisky. He was numb, empty, hollow inside. The fire was out, leaving only cold ashes in its place. Drake noticed something odd. His vision was starting to swim. The room was starting to tilt.

The whisky bottle fell from his hand and shattered on the floor, the rest of the liquid spilling out on the hardwood. His head felt light, and the room tilted. He collapsed to the floor, still wondering if he had too much.

He felt a hand on his arm. "Drake? Sweetheart?"

His vision cleared somewhat. "Samantha?"

Samantha reached out and swept some hair away from his face. "She needs you, Drake. She's in danger here."

"Who?"

"You know who. Angela."

"She left. You...I couldn't save you." Drake felt the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "How can I save her?"

"Find the way, Drake. I know you can." Samantha smiled and planted a kiss on his mouth. He breathed in her scent, smelling the faint vanilla, then somehow, that scent changed to...cinnamon?

"Damn it, Drake! Come back!" Angela's voice cut through his muddled brain. He felt a pressure on his chest and he opened his eyes.

"Angela?"

"Yes, you crazy ass. Thank my father I got here in time. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Drake sighed and closed his eyes. There was a tiny spark of hope in his chest. "I was thinking...hoping...to die."

"Why?" Drake merely sighed. Angela shook his shoulder slightly. "Drake, why?" Drake closed his eyes and smiled a little. _She came back._

Angela sat back on her heels when he passed out. She had been on her way home when she suddenly thought about Drake and asked Michael to take her to his place. Mike had obliged, and that's when she found Drake lying on the floor with a shattered whisky bottle and several pills nearby.

Michael Taylor knelt down beside her. "How is he?"

"Better. Well, he's breathing, at least."

Mike shook his head. "I knew after Samantha's death, he went down the bottle, but this? Dear God, he must really love you."

Angela couldn't answer him. She reached for the phone and dialed 911, requesting an ambulance. As she waited, she closed her eyes, freezing time. She opened them and put her hand on his forehead. _Show me what happened._

Angela saw his thoughts from after she left to the time when he woke up. She felt the intense, strong, emotions coloring his memories.

His shock when he discovered the motel room was empty and clean. He had gone to the basement office and had frozen upon seeing it empty. The further shock upon discovering she had left the building with Mike Taylor. He had gone straight home, going for the booze and pills. _She left. I lost her. I love her, but I lost her. She's not mine anymore._

He had become so undone that he wanted to die. Wanted to kill himself. Wanted to combine the pills and booze to overload his system. He had thought she was never coming back. Thought she wasn't his anymore.

Oh, Drake, that's not true. I'm yours.

Angela sighed and released her hold on time, watching his breathing resume. _Breathe, Drake. Please, just breathe._

Hours later, Angela was allowed to see her partner in the hospital. The doctors had pumped his stomach, and had gotten some of it out of his system. He had woken up after and had asked, "Where's Angela?"

Now, she headed into his room and smiled. The television was on, but he had a sketchpad on his lap, sketching with intense focus, his brow furrowed in the way she found cute.

"What are you working on?"

"Angela." He looked up and smiled, his brown eyes honey-brown. "You're here."

"Yeah. What are you working on?"

"Oh, something Samantha showed me. I just didn't think about it before." He chuckled. "It takes a near-death experience for me to see it clearly."

"See what?" Angela perched herself on the bed.

"First, tell me what happened with Mike."

Angela licked her lips. "Well, after I left, I went to him, told him everything, and showed him my wings."

"What you are?"

"Everything. Then he kissed me, and I asked him to take me home, but I thought about you."

His eyes seemed to darken in the lustful way that made her heart race. A slow smile grew. "Really? He kissed you but yet you thought about...me?"

"Yeah. So I asked him to take me by your place. I had this gut feeling that I should, and that's when I found you on the floor, with no pulse."

"Before you yell at me-"

"I know what you were thinking." Her eyes bore into his, slightly glowing. "I told you, I'm your partner, I'm sticking by you no matter what. By the way, next time you want to commit suicide, you'll go straight to Hell. Do not pass Go. And there's not a damned thing I can do about it. Be warned: you attempt suicide again, I'll kill you."

His gaze had been steady on hers. "Understood. But getting back to this," he indicated the sketchpad, "I think I may have a connection."

"What do you mean?"

He showed her the drawings. "You said the pentagram directed energies, so to speak. The inverted cross of St Peter could represent humility, because Peter refused to be crucified the same way. The double lightning, while used by Nazis, could symbolize Luke 10:18."

"Who are you and what've you done with Drake?"

Drake looked at her and deadpanned. "My real name is Gabriel."

"What?" Angela's eyes were wide. _Is Gabriel really Drake?_ That thought went out the window when he threw his head back and laughed upon seeing her eyes widen. "You son-of-a-"

"Language, sweetheart." He showed her the sheet he had been drawing on. "It was all there in my memories. When Samantha was killed, these guys had the same three markings. Only, the other two were put into the pentagram like this."

He did a quick sketch of the pentagram, with the inverted cross in the center and one lightning bolt on either side.

"Oh, Father." Angela breathed. "Where are these guys now?"

"We've been trying to track them down. The two we did get, they refused to talk. No matter what we did. Shortly after, we found them dead. Suicide."

"So there were three left."

"Yeah. With these markings."

Angela got off the bed and started walking around, thinking. _Humans themselves can't do things like this. But something spiritual can._ She turned to face her partner and voiced her thoughts aloud.

"So you think that these guys are somehow inhabited by...spirits?"

"Not just spirits. Demons. Angels won't have these markings on them. But demons will."

"Right. Where do we start?"

Everything seemed to be right again to Drake. He whistled as he opened the basement office door, tossing his jacket over a chair. Angela came in, still feeling apprehensive. The memory of Michael's kiss still haunted her. _But I love Drake more._

"Wherever they are, they will strike again." Angela said, trying to hide her apprehensiveness. She had told Drake about the kiss, and had seen his eyes go empty for a brief moment. When she mentioned going to his place, a light had sparked in his brown eyes. She could tell what he was thinking. _I came back for him._

"Right. But before we do that, let's talk."

"What about?"

"You told me everything? Everything that happened?"

"Yes. I came back for you, Drake. I love you."

Drake couldn't help but smile, his mind was working in overtime. He watched her expression as he replied. '"And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire.'"

Their eyes met and Drake felt the impact of her words. Her eyes darkened and her face flushed. She sank into a seat and closed her eyes. "Drake-"

"Charles Dickens. A Tale of Two Cities. Sydney Carton was trying to proclaim his love for Lucie Manette."

"I know the book. I'm surprised you would quote Sydney."

"Why?"

"Because of the rest of the line: 'a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away.'"

"That was the way it was when I thought I lost you." Drake sat on a chair opposite her. "I thought the fire went out. But when you came back...well that line was appropriate in how I felt."

Angela nodded and sighed. "Well, let's get to work on finding that symbol you drew."

Drake grinned. "Okay."

Chapter 9

Angela hummed to herself as she walked down a hallway on another floor, flipping through a file. She heard her name called and turned around.

"Angela!"

"Michael."

Michael Taylor jogged up to her. "Heard your partner's okay."

"Yeah, he is."

"Is he-?"

"Mine? Yes." Angela was surprised at her possessive tone. Even Michael's eyebrows went up. "I told him about what happened."

"What happened?"

"In your office."

She saw he remembered. "Right." He breathed. "He was...okay with it?"

Angela found herself nodding, no longer feeling apprehensive. "Yes. Surprisingly so. He's mine and I'm his. And you're my friend, right?"

Michael smiled. The filtered light from the blinds shone on his hair, highlighting the various shades of blond. "Anytime. Yeah."

Angela smiled in return, relieved. "Thank you."

She headed back to the basement, feeling like a weight was off her shoulders. The world was perfect to her, everything seemed warm and glowing. She closed her eyes in the elevator, feeling like she was flying, elated, inside.

Before long, she reached the basement office door. Inside, she heard furious typing. Angela smiled, remembering the first day when they initially met. She opened the door and saw her partner there, eyes glued to the screen.

"Special delivery for Agent Drake Johnson?"

"Park it here." He tapped an empty space on the desk. Angela parked her butt on the space instead of the folder. He glanced up and his eyes darkened in desire with realization. He leaned forward in the chair. "Well, you're not too loud, are you?"

"Depends. Are you?" She leaned forward and kissed him deeply. When she broke it off, she slapped the folder against his chest and hopped off the desk. "Everything I could find on those old cases. Apparently, they got around."

He flipped through the file. "Latest sighting was in California. Why does everything happen in Los Angeles?"

"Is that rhetorical?"

"I guess."

"California, it is?"

"Yep. We'll need to make the travel arrangements. Considering the expense-"

_Michael's in Finances._ Angela reached for the phone and dialed a number.

"Michael Taylor."

"Hey, it's me. I need a favor."

"What is it?"

"Well, Drake and I need to get to California for a case, specifically L.A. Los Angeles. Could you work your magic?"

"Hold on." On the other end, she heard typing and mouse-clicking. "How fancy do you want the hotel?

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay, I got you booked for plane tickets and hotel for tonight. I've forwarded the details to both your emails."

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver."

"You owe me one."

Angela hung up and saw Drake's confused expression. "Mike's in the financial department. I owe him one now. He said that we're ready to go."

"Let me check." Drake checked his email and his jaw dropped. "Dear God. The Montage in Beverly Hills? Baby, you really owe him one, this time."

"Swanky. I guess we'll go pack."

"It's got a pool. Pack the bathing suits, darling." He flicked his eyebrows at her, smiling in satisfaction as she blushed.

"We there yet?" Angela stretched her shoulders, slowly waking up. "We could've gotten there faster if I flew."

"Sweetheart, you got to blend in better."

"Oh, I've blended in quite well." She got out of the car and cracked her back. Drake chuckled as he got the luggage. A valet came up to them and spoke to Drake who nodded and handed him the car keys.

"Come on, babe. A walk would do you good."

Angela sighed as she followed him inside. As Drake checked them in, she admired the wrought iron grand staircase in the lobby, the white walls making the black wrought-iron pop. _Maybe when I'm ruler of Hell, I should make my palace like this. Dad was always into black and red, which is depressing. I should make it swanky and beautiful._

Thoughts of her father brought back the memory of him bleeding on the floor. A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie. Drake was standing there.

"Ready?"

"Yes." He led her up the stairs and down the hall to their room. Angela's breath was taken away when she saw the accommodations. "Drake, there's a whole kitchen here!"

"We have view of the pool."

"The bathroom's _gorgeous!_ "

"It's like our own apartment."

At those words, Angela froze. The room was silent except for their breathing. "Our apartment." She whispered. She had been facing away from him. Now she turned to him. "You mean it?"

"Well, yes. Here on earth." He dove forward. "Angela!"

She had collapsed to the floor under the weight of the realization. _He can never follow me to Hell. He can never rule by my side. I'll be alone down there._ She didn't realize that she was shaking, tears flowing.

"Baby, speak to me. What's wrong?"

Angela could only shake her head. _Everything we have...everything we've said and promised...all will be gone._

Drake held her in his arms, rocking her gently. The sun going down cast long shadows in the room. Silently, he lifted her up and put her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms and passionately kissing her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding onto him like she was terrified of letting go. The deep fire inside him flared brighter. He kissed her deeper, fingers fumbling the buttons on his shirt and her blouse. The deep feeling of protectiveness flowed over him, as their bare skin pressed together, her tears dry now. The fire inside raced through his body, warming up both of them, his hot breath on her bare skin, feeling a surge of satisfaction at hearing her gasp and moan as their bodies connected. When the fire died down, she curled up next to him, and he tightened his arms around her.

I will never let you go.

In the morning, Drake heard a knocking on the door. "Who is it?"

"Room service, sir."

Drake sat up in the bed. _Room service?_ "Just a moment." He got up and got on a bathrobe, cinching it tight around his waist. He opened the door and saw a man dressed in a suit with a wheeled cart filled with covered dishes. "Come in."

He stepped aside and let the man wheel it in. Drake closed the door. "I'm not sure if we ordered-" Drake froze when he saw the man pointing a gun right him. On the man's neck was the tattoo pentagram symbol with the cross and double lightning. "Who the hell-"

Before he could say anything, the gun fired.

Drake shot up in bed, one hand clutching his chest. It was still early by California time, and the fog was lifting outside. He glanced down and saw Angela was still, breathing steady, a small smile on her face.

He tucked the covers around her and then got up, throwing on a robe, not bothering with cinching it. He stood outside on the balcony, hearing the ocean far away. The dream haunted him.

Are we in danger here?

His reverie was interrupted by a knocking on the door. "Room service."

Drake cinched the robe closed and got out his gun, cocking it and hiding it behind his back. He answered the door and saw it was a different man than the one in his dream.

"Please come in."

The man wheeled in the cart, and Drake saw the man had glanced to the gun. "Expecting trouble, sir?"

Drake smiled. "FBI. It's habit."

"Of course, sir." The man left, and Drake breathed. He put the gun on the four-person dining table and smelled the lovely cinnamon toast that made his stomach grumble.

"What time is it?" Angela's sleepy voice came from the doorway. She only had a robe on, cinched up. Her brown hair was hanging over one shoulder, eyes half-closed.

"Uh, six. Care for some breakfast?"

Angela sat down and breathed in the scents. "Drake, how long have we known each other?"

"Oh, about a week, maybe? Ever since you came into my life, the days just flowed together."

"Mm." Angela started eating the scrambled eggs, her stomach protesting she wasn't doing it fast enough. She stopped, feeling her stomach churn. _What's wrong with me?_

"Sweetheart?"

Angela couldn't speak. She shoved her chair back and ran to the bathroom, throwing up her breakfast in the toilet. Drake held her hair as her stomach violently heaved, and when it was done, Angela found herself lying on the cold floor, trembling.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"Let me take you to the hospital."

"It's just-"

"If it's food poisoning, we need to know."

Angela sighed, and curled up on herself, groaning. Drake nodded to himself, and got her ready to take her to the hospital. He carried her inside and immediately nurses came with a gurney.

"What happened?"

"She was fine this morning until she had breakfast, then she threw it up."

The nurse nearest him nodded. "Okay. We'll get her in and find out what's wrong."

"Thanks." Drake waited for two hours, then he was allowed to see her. He walked into her room and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her sitting up with an IV in her hand.

She smiled as soon as she saw him. "Drake. I'm better now."

"That's good. Uh, what's wrong? Food poisoning?"

Angela took a breath. "Um, Drake. Being nephilim means that we don't follow the same models that humans do."

Drake sat down on the chair nearby. "What do you mean?"

Angela swallowed. "I don't know how to tell you this-"

"Babe, spill it."

"I'm pregnant, Drake."

Drake couldn't breathe. His mind flashed to Samantha coming out of the bathroom with the stick in her hand and smiling. Then the memory of the man pulling the trigger.

He stood up, trying to breathe. _She was pregnant, then she died._

"Drake-"

"Get rid of it."

"Drake." Angela breathed. "How could you say that?"

"Samantha was the same way and she's dead. I don't want that to happen to you."

Angela closed her eyes, remembering her earliest memory. She had protected her mother against a demon that had once been an angel. Her earliest memory was colored by her anger. She felt the same anger rising now.

She opened her eyes and saw Drake step back. "Unlike Samantha, I'm a nephilim. This child is a nephilim. When I was in my mother's womb, I protected her against demons, against those who would do her harm. I will not kill this child. You would have to kill me to do so."

Drake saw her anger rise. Her eyes glowed in the respective colors, her wings came out and were glowing. Her fists and jaw were clenched. She was thoroughly pissed.

"I'm sorry. I just don't...don't want you to end up like Samantha. I loved her so much and I was so happy that I was going to be a father. Then she was killed."

His words disarmed her. The glow faded away. He took a breath and continued.

"Now I find out I'm going to be a father again. I love you so much, Angela. And I can't go through losing another child again. Not when it means your life."

"So you want me to get rid of it just so I don't die?" She watched Drake nod. "Sweetheart, it's not going to happen. I'm not going to die carrying this baby."

"What about after?"

"Same thing."

Drake closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "God help me, Angela."

She was discharged later that day and retuned to the hotel. She dug into some cereal and practically downed half a gallon of milk. "So, Drake, when are we-"

" _I_ am going to track down these leads and _you_ are staying here. No questions asked."

Angela nodded. "Fine. I'll stay here. Go have fun. I love you and I'll see you when you get back."

Drake kissed her on the lips then headed out. "See you in a bit." He headed back to the hotel to reassure the concerned staff about her condition. He whistled to himself as he went down the stairs and into the lobby. He stopped short when he saw a familiar blond guy speaking to the front desk clerk.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mike?"

Michael Taylor turned to him and grinned. "Well? What do you think?"

"About what?"

He scoffed. "About the hotel. Seriously, I thought Angie was never going to call."

"Angie?"

"What?"

Drake narrowed his eyes slightly. "You called her Angie."

"What do you call her?"

_Smug bastard._ "How about the mother of my child?" Drake smiled in satisfaction. Michael's face seemed to darken. "Could we talk somewhere private?"

"Let's go."

They headed into an empty conference room. Michael shut the door. "I can't believe you, Johnson."

"What?"

"First Samantha, now her? Christ, man. Think about this!" Mike's blue eyes were dark like the ocean.

"About what? She's nephilim."

"How about your career?"

That made Drake freeze for a moment. "What about my career?"

Michael straightened up. "It was all over the bureau when the investigation concluded. How Samantha was with your child. How long you've been together. Higher-ups wanted to separate you two, but that didn't happen. Fraternization like that, they frown upon. It's an HR nightmare. You want to take Angela down with you?"

"What do you want?"

Michael's eyes seemed to change color slightly. "I worked in HR before being transferred to Finance. I know the drills, the secrets, the back-doors. I even have connections. I know what you're chasing here in L.A. I'm not stupid."

Drake couldn't breathe. He regretted even telling Michael about the baby.

"I'll tell you what: I don't go to HR about the baby, and you take good care of her. If she gets hurt again, let's just say Scully won't be with Mulder anymore."

"That happened in later seasons."

"Right. When they had the baby. See where it got them. See where it gets you now." Michael left, leaving Drake struggling to breathe. _That bastard had just threatened to blackmail me. Blackmail us._

Unable to do anything more, he took a breath and headed out the door. He found the address listed in the file and knocked on the door.

"FBI. Need to ask some questions."

The door opened and an elderly woman with a cane opened the door. "Hello. Please come in."

"Thank you."

"Pardon my cats." The woman chuckled as the herd of cats scattered. "They are my only company since my husband died."

"Oh, sorry about that. How?"

The woman turned to him as she sat down on a rose-patterned chair. "He was murdered. Three days ago."

"Murdered?"

"Yes. By these awful thugs. I don't know why they would target a priest."

Drake scribbled down on his pad. "Did anyone see if these markings were on them?" He showed the woman the drawing. "These seem familiar to you?"

"Yes. They were on the neck. The police said the security footage captured that symbol. What does it mean?"

"I don't know. But thank you." Drake left and headed over to the nearest police station. Walking inside, he flashed his badge and announced himself.

"What can we do for you, Agent?"

"I need to find the file about the murder of Father Tomlin? I understand it happened a few days ago?"

"Yes, Agent. But that's still under investigation. I'm sorry."

"I understand. Who do I talk to about that?"

The clerk dialed the phone and a woman with black hair and eyes strode up. "Detective Lucia Heightmeyer."

"Agent Drake Johnson, FBI." Drake smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. He had sized her up as a cold-as-ice woman that perceives she had to fight in a man's world. He suddenly thought of Angela, who didn't have to do that at all.

"What does the FBI want with my murder case?"

"Let's just say, those guys who killed that priest also killed a former a partner of mine some years back. And the FBI doesn't take too kindly to that kind of thing. You know, federal officers and all. National security. Leavenworth. Did you know I could prosecute you for impeding a federal investigation?"

"You wouldn't."

"I would. So please, enlighten me about this."

The detective shook her head. "Fine. My desk." He followed her to the desk and she pulled out the active file. "Killers had this tattoo on their necks. Some weird symbols, Satanic shit. A five-pointed star-"

"With an inverted cross and two lightning bolts on either side?"

She stared at him. "Yeah. You've been chasing them too?"

"For years."

She sighed and was about to make a comeback, when another detective strode by, a man dressed in a faux-biker-look. "What's up, _chica_?"

"Don't call me that."

"Okay _chica_. _Vaya con Dios_."

As he walked away, Lucia muttered under her breath. "Asshole."

"Who was he?"

"My second ex. I'm remarried now. And staying that way."

"Well, good. I'm not married, never have been, but being with the love of my life makes me think I don't need a piece of paper to prove my commitment."

The detective blinked. "Wow. Are you going to quote Shakespeare next?"

"Nope. No luck. Anything?"

She returned her attention to the file. "One of them has an address here. Shall we?"

Chapter 10

Drake rode shotgun in the police car which smelled faintly of cigarettes. The detective was smoking herself. "Do you smoke?"

"No. I was a drinker. A heavy one. Then I quit and got clean."

"Good for you. What happened?"

"Met a girl, fell in love, got happy and clean. End of story." Drake saw her shake her head, smiling.

"Happily after ever, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, here we are." She pulled up to the curb and got out, gun drawn. "Stay behind me. If these guys killed your partner, they won't hesitate to do so again."

"Understood, but-"

She darted to the front door. Drake had no choice but to follow, cursing under his breath. "LAPD! Open up!"

There was no answer. She swore in Spanish then kicked in the door. Drake was on her heels, hearing her shouting in Spanish. He came inside and saw a man with the pentagram tattoo kneeling on the floor, phone in hand.

He snapped in Spanish at the detective who replied in equal tone. Drake came forward and snatched the phone from the guy's hand. He scrolled through and saw the number.

"What are you doing?"

"Redialing." He waited and waited, hearing the ringing. Then the line clicked. Nothing. "Shit. There's nothing." He turned to the man. "Who were you calling?"

"The Angel." The man smiled. "The Angel of Darkness."

"That would be Lucifer who is currently unavailable."

"Now he is." The man suddenly clicked his teeth together. Foam came pouring out of his mouth as he collapsed, dead.

"Did not expect that."

Back at the station, Lucia looked depressed. "We ran the number. It was a burner phone. Untraceable. We got nothing. _Lo siento_."

"I'm sorry, too. I have to wonder how many of these guys are out there." Drake pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the hotel. "Angela, pick up."

Angela was busy smashing the guy's face into the hardwood floor. Shortly after Drake had left, she had headed back to the hotel, wanting to relax in the luxuriousness of the suite. Then there had been a knock on the door by two goons who claimed to be room service, but when she saw the tattoos on their necks, she smiled and let them in.

They came in and pulled a gun. "We have orders."

"Right. Did they ever tell you how hard that would be?"

Then the mayhem started. After her stomach settled, she felt more energetic. More alive. That feeling translated to her grinning as she knocked the gun out of the guy's hand and threw him bodily into the wall. The second one attempted to swing his fists at her, which she ducked, and threw him an uppercut. Then she grabbed the guy and smashed his face into the hardwood.

"Whoo!" She yelped, savoring the feeling. The phone rang and she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey honey, it's me."

"Oh, hi! Listen, can you come back to the hotel? There's a package for you. Sorry if it's a little beaten up."

"Okay. Yeah. See you soon."

"Love you honey."

"Love you too. Bye."

Angela walked over to the first guy who was groaning and punched him hard. He was still after that, and Angela headed to the kitchen where she got herself some milk while she waited. The door opened after fifteen minutes, and Angela saw Drake come in with a woman.

"Who's this?"

"Detective Lucia Heightmeyer, this is Angela Rogers. Love of my life."

"Agent Rogers, please, Detective. The package is waiting." Angela loved the looks of confusion on their faces as she led them into the main room. "Are they what you were looking for?"

Drake's jaw dropped. There were two goons lying on the floor, bleeding, both of them still.

"Honey, what happened?"

Angela could only grin.

Drake and Angela watched as Lucia interrogated the two suspects. Angela had taken along a bottle of milk to settle her stomach. She sipped it now, watching them.

"Did uh, did Michael Taylor ever come see you?"

Angela shook her head. "No. Why? Is he here?"

"Hm? No. He was. We talked for a bit."

"About what?"

"You. The baby. Our careers in the FBI."

Angela sighed. "My career is just a phase. I can literally go where I want and do what I want. It's the luxury of being a nephilim. I'm also the daughter of the Devil. I can walk in all three worlds. No one else can."

"No one human, you mean."

"Yeah."

Drake breathed deeply. "He said that he won't go to HR about us, as long as I take care of you."

"Seems like I have no problem." Angela smiled at him. He returned it, his eyes shining with love.

Lucia had finished her interrogation and came into the observation room. "He's not talking. I got nothing."

"Let me try." Angela piped up. She headed into the interrogation room and snapped her fingers. Time froze and she grinned. She headed over to the guy, and put her hand on his forehead. _Show me._

Time resumed when she was done and she headed back into the observation room. "Well, I know what happened."

"What do you mean? You never spoke." Lucia was confused.

"You believe in angels?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I'm a nephilim, and I have powers. He calls someone who answers with a voice moderator, and he calls himself the Angel. Apparently this 'Angel' has the two most important C's: connections and cash. That's all I can get from him."

"That's a start." Lucia smiled. " _Gracias_."

" _No hay de que, Senora_." Angela replied.

"So this Angel, is that a code word?" Drake interjected. The two women glanced at each other.

"It's possible."

"Probably."

Drake shook his head. "Okay. Let's start at the beginning. Why did they target you?" he addressed his partner who shrugged.

"I don't know." Angela frowned then snapped her fingers. "Let me try something else." She walked back into interrogation and sat down across from the guy who stared at her. She found herself grinning in satisfaction at his unsure expression.

"You are going to tell me everything. Why did you target me?"

The man shifted under her gaze. "We had orders. We were told by the Angel that you were dangerous. You would ruin everything."

"Did he ever say his name?"

"No. No names."

"Did he ever pay you?" The man stammered. Angela leaned forward, her power pressing all around the man. "How much was I worth? Tell me!"

"One hundred million US dollars." The man was trembling now.

Angela leaned back in the chair, a calm rising fury bubbling its way to the surface. "When and where did you meet him?"

"Three months ago." He named a bar whose name she was unfamiliar with.

"Okay, describe him."

The man sighed and put a hand to his forehead, frowning in pain. Angela dialed back the pressure and watched his face relax. "Tall, blond, blue-eyes, had a badge on him like police or something."

"Like this?" Angela showed him her badge. "Like that?"

The man nodded, his eyes lighting up in familiarity. "Yes! Just like that. He also spoke in numbers. He offered us the money and told us the equivalent in _euros_ , how to split it evenly."

"Did he have a cell phone number?"

"No."

Angela took a breath and called up the FBI photo database on her phone. She called up Michael Taylor's photo and showed it to the man. He nodded emphatically when he saw it.

"Yes! That's the man! That's him. The Angel."

Angela leaned back, her world crashing down. _Even a demon can disguise himself as an angel._ A knock on the door, and an officer opened it with some papers. Without looking up, Angela asked the man, "Are you ready to sign the statement?"

"Yes."

She pushed some paper towards the man. "Look, you were misled. Don't worry, you'll get a fair punishment."

The man nodded and signed the typed up statement. The officer silently took it and left. Angela grinned at the man, feeling the sweet satisfaction of punishment.

"I can't be killed. But I can punish you for what you've done."

"What do you mean?"

Angela didn't bother to freeze time. Instead, her body and eyes glowed brightly. She spread her wings and showed her form. The man screamed and when the light died down, her wings put away, the man was on the floor, rocking, his eyes empty and not seeing anything. He was shaking all over.

Catatonic.

Angela couldn't breathe as she raced out the police station door. The interrogation had been recorded. The man had signed the statement. But she needed more.

She needed to know.

"Angela!" Drake's voice was behind her.

"What?"

"What happened? Who was it?"

"Someone I'm seriously going to go She-Hulk on."

Drake blinked. "What, more than what you did back there?"

Angela leaned against the car door, one hand on her chest, nearly hyperventilating. The shock of discovering who it was and the rage she felt in her power, terrified her. He was bent over, eyes closed, struggling to breathe.

"Honey? Angela?"

Angela couldn't answer. To do so would make it real. She didn't want it to be real. Before she knew it, the world tilted and went black.

She woke up, rolling over on an uncomfortable mattress. _What the hell? Am I in the hospital?_ The answer to her questions came when she opened her eyes and recognized the side rails of the hospital bed.

"Drake?"

"I'm here." His honey-brown eyes were concerned.

"What happened?"

"You had a panic attack. I rushed you to the hospital to make sure everything's okay."

"It's not okay, Drake. It's not."

"I gathered that."

_I need to say it out loud._ "Michael did this. Michael Taylor, that bastard."

"What?" Drake's voice was sharp.

"Yes. He orchestrated it all." Angela felt the wave of despair and betrayal crashing down on her. "He hired them to kill me."

Drake kissed her hard on the lips. "As long as I live, no one will ever harm you again." With that, he got up and left, fighting to keep the fury down in his chest. He returned to the bureau and found Michael Taylor's office.

"Michael! We need to talk."

Michael let him in and closed the door. "How's Angela?"

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Meaning?"

"You hired thugs to kill my girlfriend. My _pregnant_ girlfriend. You son-of-a-bitch."

"That's right, I did." Michael's voice was calm. The blue in his eyes changed to brown then black. "You see, little human, I work for someone who wants to see Lucifer overthrown and Hell released on earth. A little Chaos is good, don't you think?"

"Chaos." Drake whispered. "Hell on earth? Your boss would do that? Why?"

Michael shrugged. "Why else? It's in our nature." Drake stepped back as Michael's form began to smolder with fire. "Well, little human, I've think I've done enough damage here. I've been called."

With that, the demon called Michael flew to the window. Drake unfroze and ran to the window, watching the demon hover in the air.

"By the way, once I'm gone, no one will know of Michael Taylor here." Laughing, the demon disappeared.

Drake let out the breath he had been holding. _A demon working for...who?_

Three days later...

Angela sipped her mug of tea, her numb mind reeling over the events. She was closer yet far away from an answer. _Why would God allow this? Why would God allow my father to be overthrown? Is this my test? My purpose? I'm supposed to prove something when I save my father and restore order? Is that the duty of a princess or just a dutiful daughter who loves her father very much?_

Tears silently flowed as she contemplated her purpose. The basement door opened and Drake came in with a small bouquet of flowers.

"Special delivery for Agent Angela Rogers?"

"Right here." Angela wiped the tears from her cheeks. Drake smiled when he placed the flowers on the desk and he plopped down a small box on the desk in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Well, I talked to everyone and no one besides us ever heard of Michael Taylor who once worked in HR and transferred to Finance. In fact, there is literally no record of him whatsoever in the files."

Angela closed her eyes and felt sick when the memory of his kiss surfaced in her mind. "So, he was never here."

"Right. We're the only ones who know."

She opened her eyes. "Drake, what's in the box?"

Drake opened it and she gasped at the garnet ring surrounded by tiny diamonds. He got down on his knees in front of her.

"Angela Rogers Morningstar, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Lucifer opened his eyes. His small group of loyal followers gathered close to him. One of his faithful lieutenants had managed to wrap up his master's chest, nearly stopping the blood flow.

" _Master, what else can we do?"_

Lucifer shook his head. "I don't know. But my daughter's up there and she'll find a way to help us. I know she will."

A peon piped up. "How did this happen, Master? Why is God allowing this?"

Lucifer sighed in resignation. "Those are the universal questions now. Right now, Angela is our only hope."

The End

Don't miss the beginning!

The Fallen Angel

The Fallen Angel: Retribution

The Fallen Angel: Repentance

Demon Chronicles Book 1: Demon Soul

Demon Chronicles Book 2: Demon Blood

Demon Chronicles Book 3: Demon Line (coming soon)

