

Cover art and interior design/formatting

by Red Fist Fiction

Second edition 2018

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information can be found at www.ashkrafton.com

STRANGER AT THE HELL GATE: A Paranormal Romance Novella by Ash Krafton

Recruited by higher powers, an angel seeks out the only man who could prevent an apocalypse from happening—but how can someone born of Hell be a vital part of Heaven's mission?

ISBN: 978-1-946120-13-7

Smashwords Version

Copyright © 2018 by Ash Krafton

CONTENTS

Dedication

Start of Stranger at the Hell Gate

About Ash Krafton

Other Books by Ash Krafton

Connect with Ash Krafton

_DEDICATION_

To my family:

My husband, my children, my friends.

Most especially, for Tricia...my friend, my confidant, and my best writer friend. One day, I'll find the right words to express my gratitude. Until I do, I'll sling 'em into another book.

_AN_ _GELS_

Nightfall never came without a price in this city.

Like so many others in this world, the city was a conglomeration of concrete and chrome, its suburbs spinning off from the center like great galactic arms. Humans huddled together, heaping dwelling upon dwelling, building their spires in admirable attempts to pierce the skies.

In time, the city's heart had grown so thick and congested that sunlight could not penetrate its depths. Day and night alike were eternally cloaked in a blanket of electric illumination. People moved in masses, caught in the ebb and flow of common, unremarkable life. Desperate to live. Desperate to survive. Desperate to exist in this hostile, wretched plane.

Further from the city's center, the architecture thinned, the population thinned. Here, the sunlight reached the earth, washing the slower pace of less-urgent living in a warm glow. By daylight, the streets were touched by light's grace, each cloudless day a blessing.

By night...that blessing was forgotten.

A woman in travel-worn trousers and a half-cloak hurried through the trash-strewn streets. Soon, the sun would fall below the horizon and night would begin its chaotic reign. Sonya Camael didn't want to spend another night hiding in a church. She didn't want to spend another night _looking_ for a church to hide in.

The sunset painted the buildings with a fiery wash of sullen orange, doing little to gentle the harshness of weathered stone. The retreating light created long shadows, shadows she'd swear moved as she strode through the deserted streets.

She covered her mouth and nose against the abrasive scents of smoke and sulfur, so thick in the air that she tasted it. The woman knew full well there were dark things that kept to the shadows, waiting for daylight to die. Those dark things were hungry for the moment when the shadows would swallow the city, giving them free range.

Careful to keep to the still-sunlit center of the street, she moved quickly and determinedly through the city, whispering a quick prayer of thanks when she caught sight of her destination. A green neon sign over the porch blinked sporadically, gleaming through the rising shadows: _DEMONIC INTERVENTIONS_.

By the time she'd climbed the steps, sunlight had surrendered to the damnable dusk. She pulled her dusty cloak tightly around her shoulders and shivered.

_Not a good omen_ , she mused. It wasn't in her nature to be superstitious, but she couldn't suppress the chill that snaked around her very bones, squeezing.

It wasn't the nicest building in town. It may well have been the least inviting. Something about a stone door bearing strange symbols made a person think twice about knocking.

Or maybe it was the deep claw marks that marred it. That could have been it, too.

She lifted her hand, slender fingers curled into a resolute fist, and knocked twice. The sound seemed to disappear into the wood, swallowed, devoured.

When the door was yanked open by a silver-haired man wearing little more than pants and a pair of leather boots, Sonya almost turned and ran down the steps. Thin lines of scars dotted his body like dewy cobwebs and a black leather strap crossed his chest, hinting at a weapon on his back. But that wasn't what scared her.

It was the flatness of his stare. He had the coldest eyes she'd ever seen. Those eyes told her that scars and weapons were both daily exercises.

The man did a quick up-and-down glance before crossing his arms, filling the doorway. "I think you got the wrong address, lady."

Everything about him screamed _run_. It took a lot of effort not to listen to his unspoken signals.

She swallowed and planted her feet. "No... I'm quite sure this is the right place."

He smiled a cocky slant that flashed teeth and leaned against the door. His chin lifted. "Who ya looking for?"

"You." She reached into a cloth pouch on her belt and pulled out a crystal wrapped in dull grey wire. A rosy glow pulsed from within like a gentle heartbeat. "Definitely you."

His brows lowered but his expression didn't change. "What the hell is that thing?"

"A compass." The bright crystal generated heat as well as light, warming the wire to the point of discomfort. She turned it over in her palm before it could burn her hand.

"Doesn't look like any compass I ever seen."

Slipping it back into the pouch, she shrugged. "I don't think they give these out at scout camp."

"I ain't a boy scout."

"No. You aren't." She licked her lips and braced herself. "You're a demon."

He twisted an arm behind him. Metal scraped against hard leather, the sound of a sword sliding free of its sheath. His arm whipped a tight arc over his head, weapon in hand.

"Relax." She raised her hands and backed away from the sword he pointed at her chest. "You don't need that."

"Look, lady. Anyone comes in here callin' names like that makes me a little jumpy."

She tilted her head and looked up at him. "Do I look like a threat?"

He lowered the blade but didn't put it away. "Bad things come in pretty packages."

"I am not a threat."

"Then what do you want? I'm on the clock, lady. If you're looking to hire a hunter, then you need to talk to my agent." He glanced over his shoulder, turning enough so she could see around him. A man on the far side of the room appeared to be speaking on the phone.

"I... don't know," she said. "All I knew was I had to find you."

"And that disco rock?"

"It's how I found you. Only the blood of Tallon can waken it."

The cocky mask slipped all the way off, and he moved out of the doorway, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "You better come inside."

She made as wide a berth around him as the doorway would allow. He leaned out, peering hard at the twilight-soaked streets, in both directions, before shutting the door and sliding the dead bolt across.

_D_ _EMONS_

Jagger Sintallon reached up and jammed the top bolt shut for good measure, before turning to check out the girl standing in the center of his office. Whenever someone knocked on his door this time of night, it usually meant a job.

Or a fight, as occasionally the jobs went looking for him. "Hey, Enzo. We got a guest."

"Client?" called the man from a side room. He'd hung up the phone when the girl came in and slipped around the corner to a storage closet. His query was followed by the slamming of a file cabinet drawer. A second sound followed: the quiet _snick_ of a gun being cocked.

_That Enzo, always watching my back. Like I need help with this._ Aloud, he said "Hell if I know."

Jagger was a demon hunter. There tended to be a lot of hazard in the occupation and never a shortage of work. Especially when a guy lived so close to a hell gate.

Then again, he always seemed to be living close to a hell gate. When they moved, he moved.

Skinny girls with big blue eyes never knocked on his door after sundown. They usually didn't knock _before_ sundown, either, at least not since that buck-toothed dork took over the pizza delivery job.

_You'd think they'd get a foxy little thing to deliver, you know. Drum up business. Speaking of which. . ._ "Hungry?"

"Um, yeah." She stood with hands folded, fingers tightly laced, looking around with wide eyes. "I could eat something."

If he was seeing his office for the first time, he'd stare, too. A myriad of heads hung from the walls, faces frozen in grotesque expression. Demons, even trophy ones, were ugly. _Ah, well. Home sweet Hell._

"I don't suppose you have a kitchen?" She seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of the décor. "I can cook."

"Nah, no kitchen. Just meals on wheels." He flipped open a pizza box on the desk and pulled a slice free.

When she saw the pizza, she smiled. It was like sun crawling over the horizon after a really bad night. Approaching the desk with small unsure steps, she lifted a slice in her fingers and gazed at it a moment before taking a bite. Her eyes half-closed, ecstasy glazing every inch of her expression.

"Oh. This." She chewed, swallowed, and leveled a knowing look at him. "This is good."

He felt both chastised and praised. Odd combination, considering he never really felt one or the other before. Sure, it was good pizza. But he never met anyone who liked it the way he did.

"Hey, Enzo," he called over his shoulder. "I think I found my soul mate."

_ANGELS_

"Start at the beginning." Jagger unhooked his harness and shrugged off the scabbard, swinging it to the floor.

The sword was massive, at least four inches across with a two-handed grip. The runes that marked the leather were archaic but familiar. They spelled _protection_ in one direction and _curse_ in the other.

Sonya knew the charm was in who held the sword and who met its naked blade. She also knew no ordinary man could carry those runes and maintain his sanity. That type of duality would shred even the strongest soul.

The harness removed, he reached up and rubbed his shoulder, drawing attention to a sickle-shaped scar on the skin over his heart. Unlike his other scars, this was a deep ridge, almost a branding. There was a story in that scar.

She pulled her gaze away from it. "I don't know the beginning; all I can do is start when I became aware. That was three days ago."

The quick meal had done much to ease her travel-weariness and now she rested more or less comfortably on a couch in the corner of the office. She'd raked her dusty hair back from her forehead before twisting it into a tight bun at her nape.

More than office, she surmised, spying the pillow on the floor next to the couch. The fact that he allowed her to rest in his personal space spoke much for his willingness to listen. She expected a lot worse when she uttered the name of _Tallon._

Enzo, the man who'd been on the phone when she arrived, now occupied the desk, scribbling notes. He was a quiet man with quick eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Integrity shined in him like moonlight.

So did suspicion. She couldn't hold it against him. He worked for a demon—and she was anything but.

Jagger straddled a chair and took a deep breath. "How do you know about my father?"

"They told me his name."

"Who told you?"

"Figures in dark clothes. Hoods, I think, like the monks of Parador wear." She shrugged. "It wasn't my place to question."

"You didn't get a name, did you?"

"Actually," she said, tapping her lip. "They did tell me a name. Eranil. Said you'd know that name."

His voice was leaden. "You were with him?"

"I'm sorry." She dropped her gaze. "I don't know. It was just a name. I might have been."

He remained silent, eyes impassive.

Puzzled by his stony reaction, she took a deep breath. "So. They gave me this stone and pointed to the road. I was turned out with the clothes on my back, a velvet purse that never runs out of coin, and this compass. 'Find Tallon's son,' they said. 'He will unlock the door.'"

She laughed. "And I guess you did."

"Yeah. I really need to find a new butler. Enzo." Jagger cast a stern glare at his partner before continuing. "So, you make a habit out of taking on quests from complete strangers?"

"What did I have to lose? All I knew for certain was what I am. They said you were...just like me."

Jagger leaned forward over the chair. His thick silver hair slid over his eyes, hiding them. "A half-breed."

She knitted her brows. "You don't sound happy about it."

"Hard to be happy when you get the worst of both worlds." When he lifted his head, the mask was back in place. "So. I'm like you, huh. Your daddy a demon, too?"

"Not exactly. He was human. My mother is slightly more ethereal."

He scowled at her. "Ethereal? Funny word for a demon."

"But completely appropriate for Seraphim."

"Oh, shit." Jagger went rigid, every muscle seeming to bunch and ready. The chair scraped backwards under the sudden tension.

Fight or flight. Sonya suspected this was the first time there was an equal likelihood of either one. She reached out and patted his arm. "Not in the least. I'm quite at peace with it."

"If you were at peace with being one of...them." She noticed he couldn't even say the word _Seraphim_. Funny how the mythic rules still held. "Why come looking for me?"

"They said you were the only one who could stop the pain."

"Pain." He chuffed out a sardonic laugh. So much in that sound. "I don't stop it. I cause it."

"I know." She lowered her gaze. "I saw it in my dreams."

He made actual eye contact with her, a quick glance. "You dreamed about me?"

She nodded, her cheeks warming. "Yes."

"Then you know what I do." He crossed his arms and lowered his chin.

"Without doubt." She raised her eyebrows. "You are either selfless or reckless."

"Aren't ya scared? What if I go bat shit on you and carve you up?"

Sonya bit her lip. She's seen him handle a weapon, so she was no physical match for him. Even if she called upon her Seraph strength, she might get a head start on a run, but that was all. Her powers were not suited toward battle, or even toward defense. She was a healer. Healers were terrible fighters.

And yet...her instinct kept her seated. Kept her confident. There was something about him she trusted, despite his unholy heritage. "You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Look at me." After a moment, she cleared her throat. "A little higher, please? Look into my eyes."

When Jagger's eyes locked with hers, she pulled herself down into him, seeking the secrets of his soul. It always felt like a quick drop of her stomach, a moment of free fall as time slipped loose from its grip on her skin. Soul-searching was a deep, submerging experience.

He swayed on his seat, jaw slacked, lips moving but no sound emerging. After a moment of contact, Sonya severed the connection and withdrew from his essence.

Wouldn't do to burn him alive. Not polite, especially after how hospitable he'd been.

"Did you—what—" Jagger knuckled his eyes and shook his head as if he had water in his ears. "Did you hear something?"

Sonya knew he wouldn't remember the seraphic touch but she'd never forget how it felt to look down into him. See his deepest parts, see what even he couldn't, or wouldn't. She knew him now. It took all her strength to resist reaching out to him. "You can only help me. I trust you."

Jagger hung his head and groaned. "How do I get myself into these jams?"

She smiled, clear and sunny, and, with a mental touch, encouraged him to disregard what she'd just done to him. "Maybe you're just lucky."

He stood, pulling away the chair and tossing it aside. Instead of tumbling to the ground, the chair neatly flipped and landed upright, plum against the wall. Deliberate. Her instinct said nothing he ever did was accidental. There was no element of chance in any game he'd play.

As he turned and walked back to the desk, she allowed herself a lingering glance, making sure he didn't notice. _Maybe we both are._

_DEMONS_

He fixed her a bed on the couch using bedding from the old apartment upstairs. He didn't often go up there, except on the occasion that something got in that wanted killing and ran upstairs. It wasn't like Jagger needed a home. He didn't even have a real life.

A call had come in sometime after full dark, a call that would have paid well. The agent eyed Jagger and eventually declined the job. Enzo left soon after, warning Jagger to stay in and keep an eye on her. It was a bad town to be harboring an angel.

As if he needed to be told. Jagger had a bigger job on his hands. Demons, he understood. Angel...that was way different.

For the first time in—how long? He spent the night playing video games, slaying imaginary demons instead of the real ones that prowled through the world, seeking the ruin of souls and the end of their captivity in Hell. Lucifer wanted to rule this dimension. No way would Jagger let Him take it without a fight.

And it was a wicked fight, one that felt like a never-ending game of tug-o-war. The whole mess would be so much easier if Lucifer fought His own battles. But, no. He'd enlisted the services of a man who was equal to Jagger in nearly all aspects.

Acheron.

Acheron wasn't an ordinary Captain of Hell, not by a longshot. Trouble was, Acheron—like Jagger—was human-born. That chunk of mortality gave him a permanent anchor in this plane. Gave his master a permanent advantage.

The captain had a real knack for opening hell gates. Portals to hell. Allowed demons to come and go as they please.

That's where Jagger came in. Just as Acheron was dedicated to bringing his asshole buddies through the hell gate, Jagger was equally determined to send them back.

Or destroy them. Either way was fine. Every time a demon got loose, a call from a terrified citizen came in and off Jagger would go, sword in hand. Demons, especially lower-ringed ones, could be more than an annoyance—some of them caused serious physical damage. The worst jobs, though, came when Acheron decided to get off his proud ass to join the fray.

Acheron matched Jagger, swing for swing, blow for blow. Sometimes, it was just to distract Jagger from the other demons. Other times, it was like he just felt like sparring with someone who could actually fight. Jagger guessed Acheron got bored, too.

Every once in a while, though, it seemed like Acheron wanted to do more than spar. He wanted Jagger dead. Times like that, Jagger could see the frustration leaking through Acheron's cold, cocky veneer.

What a dick.

Acheron and Jagger were at constant odds. As fast as Jagger would shut down one portal, Acheron would open another, and it would start all over again. As long as there were humans around, willing to pay for exorcisms and demon exterminations, Jagger would continue making money.

So, yeah. Business was real good for a hunter of his skill. What a pain in the ass that was.

The woman stirred on the couch, rolling over and making a soft noise deep in her throat. He paused the game, holding his breath, until he was sure she settled again. She made a delicate curve under the blue blanket, the golden highlights of her hair glimmering in the unsteady light of the television screen. It would be a long night.

Jagger bit back a curse when the words GAME OVER flashed upon the screen. Everything about his life seemed to be a game, a constant contest between him and Acheron. It would only end when one of them was dead.

Jagger had definite plans for that. All he needed was a split second of advantage. It was hard to get the jump on someone who moved like your mirror reflection.

He nearly dropped the video controller in disgust. Killing virtual demons was definitely more aggravating, especially when you couldn't yell at the game for cheating.

Sometimes, a sword was so much easier.

_ANGELS_

"So. Three days." Sonya leaned over the railing. She found heights thrilling and boundless and was grateful to Jagger for showing her the roof top. "I walked, mostly. Rode when I could. Didn't sleep. Stopped long enough to eat."

"Couldn't tell that. You polished off that pie fast enough."

"What can I say? I like anchovies." She grinned over her shoulder at him where he reclined on a battered chaise.

He shaded his eyes with the bend of his arm. Such white skin. He didn't get out in the sun much, did he?

Sonya reached out a hand, feeling a high breeze brush through her fingers, remembering. "Sometimes I'd be on a street and I wouldn't know how I got there. Like I just came out of a daze. I have so few memories of the last couple of years; what little I had kept looping over and over."

"I thought your kind spent eternity living in a happy cloud somewhere."

She cast a playfully stern look at him.

"Truthfully, my home was kind of like that when I was young. I had honestly planned on following in my mother's footsteps as a healer. I even had my choice of temples narrowed down to my top three." She turned and propped her elbows on the rail, leaning on them. "Then, something happened. I was...recruited, I guess, although I never knew exactly what for."

She shrugged. "I'm Seraphim. We're obedient to His Will, no questions. No _need_ to question. I just went, and—well, next thing I know, those monks were there, telling me to trust my instincts. And those dreams—I suppose I was sleepwalking. This stone guided me. Whenever I wondered if I was on track, it would spark, and somehow I knew."

He nodded, seeming to follow along. His brows never lifted, though, maintaining that suspicious expression. "Is anything chasing you?"

"If there is, I don't know it."

Jagger curled to sit upright and hunched, elbows on his knees, for a moment before getting up and dragging the lounge to the shady side near the door.

She didn't blame him. Leather clothing trapped heat and, so far, that was all she'd ever seen him wear. He must be baking.

"Is there any kind of threat if you failed?" Jagger asked.

"You mean, such as the world falling to Hell's dominion? That's what it feels like. But, there is something in my head driving me. Telling me to find you before it's too late." She turned back to the breathless expanse of city for a few quiet moments, taking in each bright glint of sunlight on grass and steel. "I thought I found you yesterday. The stone became exceedingly bright and hot. It wasn't dawn yet, and I was so tired. At first, I was relieved."

His expression, easier to see now he wasn't hiding his face under his arm, gave nothing away. She didn't expect it to. "But then, I got a very bad feeling. Whatever was out there wasn't supposed to find me. So, I hid. Some old church, I think, from the way it felt. When the sun rose, the stone quieted, and I ran."

"Where were you?"

"The first person I saw after that spoke Jontu."

Jagger chewed his bottom lip. "You said the stone responds to the blood of Tallon."

She nodded. "Mmm."

"Anything else?"

"No, if they told me the truth. That was the first time it lit."

"The closest town that still uses Jontu is eight days away. You sure—"

"The street signs were in Jontu."

"Well, that pretty much settles that. No other towns are daft enough to use that language if they have a choice." He crossed his arms and tilted his head back, watching her with narrowed eyes. "Eight days away. And that was yesterday? How did you—"

She shook her head. At this point, she didn't care how she travelled. Magic or curse, she'd endured those types of things all her life. "More importantly: who?"

He didn't reply. Instead he rubbed his mouth and stared past her, unblinking.

It made her wonder if there was something behind her and she fought the urge to duck. After a moment, she realized he was looking more to his insides than to the outsides behind her. "Hello?"

"Hmm?" Jagger blinked.

"I thought you zoned out on me."

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

She leaned back against the rail and crossed her arms, hugging her ribs. "What were you doing yesterday?"

Jagger shook his head and scowled. "Wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then who?"

Jagger sighed and rapped his head against the frame of the chair, hard enough to make her wince. "My brother."

Her mouth gaped a moment before she reclaimed her voice. "You have a brother?"

"He's a dick. I don't trust him, and I don't keep track of him."

_Definitely not good news_ , she thought. _They hadn't warned me about another son_. Smoothing her expression, she nodded. "That would explain the compass lighting."

"Explains a lot of shit." He curled to his feet and wiped his damp bangs from his forehead. "Let's go in. This heat feels too much like the rim of Hell to me."

_DEMONS_

Usually he passed this part of the day sleeping for lack of anything better to do. Although his body didn't need sleep—and despite never resting easily—sleeping beat having a regular day job. "You said I could 'ease your pain.' What kind of pain?"

She opened the heavy rusted door with a smooth pull that surprised him. He never doubted seraphic strength. It was just weird to see it at work in a skinny girl.

Without turning around, she started down the steps. "Have you ever been haunted?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, the closest I can come to describing the pain would be to say it's the same feeling a ghost would feel when it's ripped out of its body. Something is missing and there is a hollow place and there's a strong chance the next thing to come along to fill it up will be very, very bad."

"And you feel like that a lot?"

She paused on the steps but didn't look at him. "All the time."

"I don't know how someone like me could fix that. I'm not a good person."

Turning, she looked up at him. The light pouring in through the doorway made her clear skin glow. "Why do you say that?"

"I kill. I don't think twice, I don't feel bad, and I sleep just fine. Well, maybe not sleep. But you know what I mean."

"Who, exactly, do you kill?"

He shrugged. "Bad guys."

She smiled, that dazzling flash that blinded him a little. "Then you're a good guy by default."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I'm not the one who needs convincing."

Her weighty gaze made him uncomfortable. It wasn't the kind of look he was used to getting. The softness of it rubbed the raw edges of his personal space. Jagger motioned for her to continue down the stairs, just so she'd stop looking at him. He wasn't used to this sort of scrutiny.

"Right, right." Enzo glanced over at Jagger and scribbled a few notes. "I'll call you back."

Jagger didn't even glance up from the television screen. "Let Ionis take it."

Enzo slapped his notepad on the desk. "They asked for you."

"And I'm booked."

"You call this booked?" The agent stomped over to the screen and pointed at it. "Another night of video games?"

"I can't help it that Lydia chick keeps screwing with my quests. That dope walks right into my line of fire every single time."

"You haven't taken a job since she showed up."

"I needed some R and R."

Enzo sighed. "I don't trust her."

"She's a divinity, Enzo. What's not to trust?" Jagger tried very hard to keep a serious expression, but he couldn't keep from grinning. _Sick sense of humor but, hey. A laugh is a laugh._

Enzo wasn't laughing. "Other than a natural loathing for demons, not mentioning any names?"

"See? I, too, have a natural loathing for demons. We're like peas in a pod."

"Mmm." Enzo tapped his mouth with a slender finger. "And she's still here...why?"

Jagger shrugged. "She's got some kind of mission."

Enzo went back to his desk, lifting the notepad once more. "Not your problem."

"Maybe it is." Jagger thumbed the edge of the controller, waiting for a cut scene to end. "She said she had orders to find me. That I'm part of whatever she has to do."

"Big deal, Jag. She's on their side. She's got lots of people that can help her out. In case you forget, you are on a really small team."

"So? I don't play well with others."

"They don't need to play with you," Enzo said. "All they need to do is send a legion or two to help with these hell gates."

"Let's not start this again. If they wanted to help, they would. _I_ want to help _her_ , so I am."

"You know, that's the part I don't get." Enzo closed a file drawer hard enough to slam. "You work for coin, not charity."

"Yeah. That's the real bite in the ass, innit." Jagger paused the game and dropped the controller on his lap, reaching to rub his face with both palms. "I kinda owe 'em this one."

"You know her? I thought you said—"

"Not her. Never saw her before. But she said a name. And that guy...well, him, I knew."

"And you owed him a favor?" Enzo's voice was heavy with doubt.

Jagger couldn't blame him. He wasn't known for taking favors. But this hadn't been a favor.

"More than that. I owe him my life." Jagger picked up the controller. "He raised me."

"Oh. That's the guy?" Enzo was quiet a few moments, mulling it over. "But she said _monks_. You grew up in a cult."

Jagger smirked. "Isn't every monastery a little bit like a cult?"

"Just once, Jag." Enzo sounded out of patience. Again. "I'd like to get the plain truth from you. Just once."

Enzo sighed and leaned to pull a leather-bound book out of his satchel. He flipped through the pages before finding the one he wanted. "Did you get a chance to look at that crystal yet?"

"Nah." Jagger suddenly pounded on the game controller. "Come-on-come-on-come-on-no! Geez! What do you call that? I hit him eight times, and he didn't budge! What crap!"

"The crystal, Jag?"

"Yeah, what about it? She wears it inside her shirt. It's creepy how it lights up when I come into the room."

"Wonder if we can duplicate it? Would come in handy on those jobs where you disappear for days at a time."

"Only if I'm knocked out. Or bound. Or transported. But other than that, how can you complain? I always call if I'm gonna be late." Jagger stood to stretch, dropping the controller onto the chair. "Anyways, she might be useful."

"Useful, how?"

"I'm not the only one with Tallon's blood."

"Well, I'm not surprised. Archdemons really sow their unholy oats around." Enzo's voice was colored with disgust.

_He's only human_ , Jagger reminded himself. Sometimes he forgot that Jagger wasn't. Then again, Jagger had worked very hard to keep his demon blood in check, preferring to maintain his human impression. "True, that. But I'm thinking about one oat in particular."

"Acheron?"

Jagger nodded, remembering the troubled expression Sonya wore when he'd told her he had a brother. "She said she got a blip near Jontu about three days ago."

Enzo rocked back, eyes unfocused and falling silent. "Think you can talk her into scouting?"

"Too much of a liability. But maybe we can borrow that crystal of hers."

"Not you. What would be the point?"

"Duh." Jagger rolled his eyes. "Ionis, maybe. He's the only one who's ever seen Acheron."

"Uh, he's your twin, Jagger."

Jagger clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth, the words a hiss. "How many times do I have to remind you? He looks nothing like me."

"As long as you insist on that, I won't worry about you." The phone rang, its shrill peal cutting the conversation. Business always came first. Enzo turned back to the desk, pausing just a moment before picking up. "It's when you stop that means we're in trouble."

_ANGELS_

At the week's end, the agent finally got Jagger to take a job. Sonya suspected her offering to pay for dinner had something to do with his sudden change of heart.

He needed to get out, that was plain to see. Jagger had become restless, training with sword exercises in the open space of the office, or repetitiously cleaning his guns. Always, his eyes sought the door as if anticipating a knock. Only when Sonya would move or speak would he seem to remember she was present and shake himself of his distraction. Obviously, his mind was on his job.

The job she kept him from doing.

She'd tried reassuring him she'd be fine if he went out, but he overrode it with cautions. She moved on to reminding him of his duties, which he dutifully turned around to say she _was_ his duty. So, she resorted to taking a direct shot at his pride and pulled out her purse.

That did it. He was out the door in less than forty-five minutes. Enzo had sighed with both exasperation and relief before offering a short word of thanks for her intercession. He seemed glad that Jagger was back on the path to normalcy.

Sonya, however, didn't experience similar relief. Although he was only gone three hours at best, she spent every minute in worry, waiting for his return. Realizing she wasn't afraid for herself only made the anxiety worse. If anything happened to Jagger, she'd never learn the reason she'd been sent to find him.

To pass the time, she went upstairs and cleaned the apartment, wiping away cobwebs and scrubbing the thick layers of dust off every surface. The busy work occupied her hands and stilled her mind—she'd never been one to sit idly by when there was a task at hand.

There wasn't a lot of furniture in the apartment; only a bed and a heavy wardrobe remained. Perhaps everything that could be carried off and sold had been.

Or destroyed. There were a lot of wood shards up there.

Inside the wardrobe, she'd found extra linens. Their dry dusty smell told her this was where her current bedding had come from. After pounding the mattress clean, she dressed the bed and cracked a window to let the room breathe.

She surveyed her work. Surely, he wouldn't mind her staying up here. He probably wanted his couch back.

By the time she'd finished, she heard his boot step on the stoop outside. She nearly tripped on the stairs on her way down. Sonya paused in the doorway. "You're back."

"You're still alive." He glanced at her. "That's good."

She sat down on the couch and watched him draw his sword and lay it on the desk. With a roll of his shoulders, he shrugged off his coat, revealing the scraped leather harness he wore over his bare chest. When he turned to throw his jacket onto the desk, the light slid across his skin, picking out every scar and imperfection.

She couldn't ignore those marks. Her mother had been a healer, and she _was_ her mother's daughter.

Jagger dropped onto the cushion next to her and leaned to loosen his boot straps. A long thin ridge arched over his shoulder blade. Without thinking, she traced it with a hesitant finger.

He flinched beneath her touch but didn't move away.

"These scars are like a road map," she whispered. "How many terrible places have you been?"

He straightened but didn't look at her. "All of them."

The darkness in his voice was cold and drowning-deep. It called to her the way a child would cry for help. She wasn't accustomed to hearing him use such a tone.

"And did you go alone?"

"Every step of the way." Jagger pushed to his feet and strode to the desk where his weapons still lay. He pulled each gun free from its holster, flicked open the chamber, and shook out the ammo into a brass goblet. "My line of work doesn't run group rates."

She remained on the couch and watched him through her Seraph eyes. His back was streaked with a myriad of silvered lines, each injury and scar glowing. The glow ranged from pale pink to sullen red depending on its degree of freshness. She'd never seen so much damage on a single living being. "But...you don't work all the time, do you?"

"The day Hell takes a day off, so will I."

She knit her brows. Her life had been one of a glowing comfort, a serenity that came from the earth below, the Heavens above. Conflict, struggle, war—these things were merely concepts to her. But not him—he experienced those things, yet he continued to persist. "That's a hard way to live."

"It's a hard life. So, what? Everyone has their cross to bear. I just tend to do a lot of killing with mine."

His causal blasphemy struck a discord within her, but she didn't let it show. She knew he didn't mean to insult her. "Turn around, please?"

He turned his head. "Why?"

"I want to see you." She stood and braced herself, Seraphic sight locked on. "Please."

Jagger hung his head, looking very much out of patience. With an exasperated huff, he turned in place, his boots clomping. Cocky stance, head back and eyes daring her to say something. But these things she only partially registered because when he turned to face her, his entire upper body—chest, face, arms—glowed with the marks of past insult and injury. And that sickle shape burned into the skin over his heart...

She whimpered, heart-sick to see him in this way. Her mother's blood cried out at the thought of what agony he must have endured to stand here now, so marred and wounded. Covering her eyes, she dispelled the Seraphic sight and fought the tears.

"Hey." He was in front of her within moments, pulling her hands down and leaning to peer at her downturned face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"You." Her voice quivered. "You've been through so much. Just look at you."

"I'd rather not. I'm not a pretty guy."

"Jagger. These scars. You have countless hurts. I can't see a part of you that isn't injured." She raised her eyes, tears brimming on her lower lashes. "Let me help you."

"What, you're a plastic surgeon?"

She swallowed and regained part of her composure. "Better."

He looked alarmed and rocked back on his heels. "You don't mean—"

"Yes, I do." She held onto his hands and kept him from backing away. This felt right, this decision. It had to be a part of her mission. Her Seraphic blood ached for an opportunity to do good work. It stirred inside her, quickening her pulse. "I can fix some of these."

His eyes shifted. "Ah, I don't think it's a good idea, doll. Our kinds don't mix well."

"Oh." She gazed at him, uncertainty playing in her wide eyes. For the first time, she doubted herself. What would happen to a demon once exposed to her divinity? "I didn't think of that."

He extracted himself from her grasp. "Yeah, well. That's my job. Always thinking one step ahead."

Jagger pivoted and walked back to the desk, flipping open his jacket and pulling the vials of Holy Water out of the inside pockets. The water was fresh, glowing with pearlescent warmth. Divinity undiluted.

She noticed he had no qualms about handling Holy Water and took it as a good sign. Without a word, she walked up behind him, slid her hands around to his chest, and pressed a kiss to his wounded shoulder blade.

Her essence trickled into his skin, flowing along the ridge of scar in a streak of heat. Jagger cried out and arched his back, but she held him fast. The scar shimmered, smoothed and faded, until only perfect skin remained. Only once the healing had completed did she let go of him.

Jagger leaned heavily over the desk, palms planted and head bowed. His breath was labored.

Did she cause more pain? Her heart trembled. She never meant for that.

He twisted and sat against the desk, holding onto the edge as if he feared he might tumble off. His eyes were wide, the pupils swelling until the irises were reduced to thin rings. "What did you do to me?"

"I healed that scar on your—" She swallowed hard and backed away, her palms raised. "It was so terrible, I couldn't help—please, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You...didn't." He lifted his arm and rolled his shoulder, hunching his back and stretching his arm out in front of him. "It used to catch right there. How deep did that thing go?"

He reached behind him for his blade, hefting it in an arc over his head to slide it down into the scabbard on his back. He flicked his wrists, cracked his neck, then reached to draw the blade free.

And he smiled.

He repeated it twice more, stowing the blade and pulling it out again, before setting it back on the desk. "Wow. I haven't been able to do that since I closed the Anthers portal. Not bad, doll. Not bad at all."

"So..." She eyed him, watching him shrug out of the harness. "It didn't hurt you?"

"Oh, it hurt all right. That shit stings. But, you know, at the end, there was a little..." He rubbed his mouth and unfocused his gaze. "A cool little glow, like peppermint."

"I think it hurts more or less depending on the severity. There was a muscle torn underneath. But this one..." She stepped closer and indicated a thin line on his arm but did not touch him. "This is only on the surface."

She tilted her head. "It wouldn't take much."

"You're not going to kiss me again, are you?"

"Oh." She chewed her lip. "It's how I learned to heal. My mother, she'd kiss a scraped knee or a scratched finger. You know, make the 'boo boo' go away. Her healing was always connected to the deep love she had for me. I never..."

He eyed her, brows lifted. "Never tried just waving a magic finger?"

"I never tried to heal anyone before. A stranger, I mean. I guess I just reacted."

Jagger regarded her for a moment.

"I've lived through worse." He shrugged and lifted his arm. "I'm game."

She cradled his forearm, leaning to press a kiss onto the scar. It warmed like a blush beneath her lips. Pulling back, she inspected the skin. The scar had vanished.

"That tickled," he said.

Something in his eyes made her linger in her touch. There was something unspoken in his gaze. He cleared his throat as if to speak—

A crash sounded on the porch, a stomping that made the floor tremble. Sonya's gaze jerked to the door. The lock rattled and the door opened hard, banging against the wall. The doorway was filled with a mountain of flesh and leather. The biggest man Sonya had ever seen.

She backed away without thinking.

He lifted his arm to partially shield her, chuckling. "Ionis, get your ass in here. You're scaring her."

Sonya remained behind Jagger, peering at the man called Ionis. He was huge. And human. She blinked, mouth agape. When had humans begun to grow so large?

Ionis shut the door with a deep laugh.

"Sorry, miss. Din't know anyone was here." He bowed deeply before her. "I am Ionis, son of Berkhall. At your service."

"My partner." Jagger scratched his head. "I'm sorry, Sunny, I—"

She shrugged. There was no point to picking up where they'd left off. Not in front of another person.

"You have business. I'll give you privacy." Sonya turned to Ionis. "Pleasure is mine, sir."

She retreated to the muffled quiet of the upstairs apartment, the touch of Jagger's skin on her lips a tingling memory.

_DEMONS_

"It's not getting any better down there." Ionis slid a massive axe out of its hip holster and leaned it against the desk. Turning to a chest cooler against the wall, he opened the lid and dug through the ice to retrieve a can of beer. "That hell gate gets hotter by the week."

"Hmm?" Jagger had been staring at the apartment door, lost in thought. He shook his head to clear it, rubbing his arm. "It's him."

"So." Ionis sighed. "He's close?"

"Gotta be. I saw this before, in Anthers. Acheron and the gate fed off each other. He figured out how to loop the energy."

"Look, Jag." Ionis cracked the beer and drained it in three great swallows. "I know you don't want to hear it, but we have no choice. We have to get to him and shut him down."

Jagger sat down in the desk chair, rocking it on its back legs. "There's gotta be another way."

"There isn't, and you know it."

Jagger's face went blank, devoid of expression. "He's my brother."

"And he's tried to kill you, more than once. You said it yourself—he's getting as strong as he was in Anthers. He almost beat you at Anthers."

"That was a fluke. He can't beat me. We're matched."

"Yeah, but if he gets help from the other side..." Ionis crossed his arms. "That portal was stable enough to allow some pretty high-level demons through. Those third ringers took everything we had."

"And we did it, buddy. You gotta be proud of that."

"Are you getting cocky, Jag? I don't think I need to remind you who is first ring. Once _he_ gets through, it's over."

Jagger rubbed his eyes. All this talk about Lucifer made his head hurt. "He won't get through. Anthers won't repeat itself here. I just need time to come up with a plan."

"I got one. Kill Acheron."

"Listen. I'm not going to kill him, all right? I can't."

"He's nothing to you, man. You can't hang on—"

Jagger stood, the chair dropping beneath him and falling against the wall. "I'm not. Okay? I just can't kill him. He mirrors everything I do. How many times have I gone up against him? I can't even count all the times. You can't understand. It's my damned father's blood. It recognizes him. It's fucked up, I know it. And it drives me insane."

Jagger circled the desk and stood chest to chest with Ionis. "I know he has to die. Everything he's done—these damned hell gates—"

He cut off, clenching his fists. His hatred for Acheron went far deeper than hell gates. It went all the way back to Jagger's earliest memories. "I know it will only end when he's dead. But you can't beat him. And neither can I. All I can do is keep him from getting the jump on me."

"There has to be something we can do. If he pulls off another Anthers, he's going to make that gate permanent."

Jagger spread his arms. "So whattaya think we should do? Pray for a miracle?"

A creak on the step behind the closed door took his attention. It was slight enough that Jagger was sure Ionis hadn't heard it. How much had she overheard?

He rubbed his mouth. Didn't matter what she knew.

She was probably used to his sarcasm by now, anyway. Half-demons didn't exactly rank high up on the list of miracle recipients. He only got whatever he earned, whatever he fought for. It was the only return he had ever expected.

Jagger turned back to the desk where his weapons lay and spoke no more. Ionis, accustomed to Jagger's habits, simply racked his gear and oiled his armor. He grabbed another beer before leaving for home, leaving Jagger alone in the office.

The sound of footsteps and distant singing overhead made him look up. Not exactly alone, he thought. There had never been footsteps overhead for as long as he's stayed in this building. It was odd. Unsettling, almost.

Yet...comforting.

Jagger stripped down to his pants and dropped onto the couch, one arm crooked behind his head. A tingle on his forearm made him inspect the skin. That scar was definitely gone. Lowering his arm to his face, he breathed in her scent, lingering from her touch.

Jagger stared at the ceiling long after the sounds from above ceased.

_ANGELS_

Sonya lay awake long after the sun came up, thoughts churning in her head. She couldn't sleep for all the noise her brain was making.

She felt guilty about having eavesdropped on the men after she'd left them. She only had meant to linger, hoping for another chance to speak with Jagger. However, the conversation had taken a grim tone, leaving little chance of rekindling an intimate exchange.

Was this the reason she's been sent to find Jagger? She was more than familiar with hell gates—her kind had been fighting to close them for millennia—but this was the first time she'd found a non-divinity battling them.

_Such a complex man,_ she mused. Jagger had more to his nature than demon's blood. His sword was dual-natured. His body was dual-natured. Perhaps...his soul was dual-natured, too?

And he had a soul, she was sure of it. She'd peered inside him and had seen it firsthand.

So. Sonya lay under the covers, feeling the air change with the advent of sunrise, listening to the sounds of the night diminish with the dawn. A demon that fights against the forces of Lucifer.

A rebel? No, he couldn't be so shallow a being. Something else drove him to fight against his brother, something stronger than his fear of the Morningstar himself. Rebellions against Lucifer never lasted long. He was the source of every demon's power. Rebellions failed because Lucifer simply took back his power from the revolting demons.

After all, Lucifer was the ultimate rebel. His pride wouldn't allow another to outshine his dark light.

Question was: did Jagger have that same dangerous pride?

She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a prayer. Every angel knew that pride went before a fall.

Over the days that followed, Sonya fell into a routine. She meditated and prayed when Jagger went out on a job, searching deep within herself for some clue. She'd been raised to heal, to nurture. What could she possibly do to shut down a hell gate?

What if the hell gate was only secondary to her mission?

Now, it wasn't only the desperate urgency within herself that drove her; it was the weariness she saw in Jagger's expression when he thought she wasn't looking.

Jagger didn't realize just how much she could see.

He also didn't realize just how close Acheron was coming to his office—and to her.

Sonya began to leave the confines of the office to go walking, usually when Enzo arrived. She made him uneasy, she knew; the human signs of suspicion and anxiety were simple to detect. Heart rate, skin temperature, perspiration—obvious signs he didn't like when she was around.

Enzo was never rude to her...but she didn't want to provoke him, either. Jagger valued him. She thought it best if she avoided the agent and let him concentrate on his job.

Going out at night wasn't the most attractive idea but Sonya had been raised in a culture of sacrifice. It was the right thing to do. Still, she always hesitated on the stoop, unsure she should venture out.

Every time, Enzo's vibe of relief made her step off the porch and into the damnable night, putting all her faith in the One whom she served.

This city was vast, sprawling for miles in every direction. Jagger's office was located in an old neighborhood in one of the suburbs. Once, this had been a beautiful area—the architecture was splendid, if not well-maintained, and an over-grown garden park lay some four blocks to the east.

She didn't have to venture far to discover where the hell gate stood. She couldn't get very close to it—no untrained Seraph ever would, not without armor and a legion behind her—but she could feel it, smell it, hear it on the wind.

An old warehouse stood on the farthest edge of town, in a neighborhood now deserted by the humans who had grown tired of the paranormal occurrences that plagued the abandoned industrial park. The air surrounding the area was stagnant, thick and sluggish, lending to a sense of claustrophobia.

The hell gate had to be part of the reason why she was led to Jagger. Although she knew Jagger would disapprove, she had to get closer. Her instincts told her an answer lay close by.

She couldn't allow fear to stop her. She'd come too far already.

One evening, she'd made it as close as the outer barrier, a bubble-like structure that she felt rather than saw. It was a tenacious film that smelled like baking garbage and human waste. Sonya covered her nose at the repulsive odor and backed away but before she could turn and hurry away, the crystal flickered and took up its glow.

Sonya stopped and looked around. "Jagger? Is that you?"

She peered through the darkness, using her Seraph sight. In the distance, deep within the barrier, she saw a figure standing on top of a steel crate some fifty yards off. The moonlight glinted off a shock of silver hair.

With a sigh of relief, she started toward him. The barrier repelled her, knocking her back several steps.

"Jagger," she called. "I'm right here."

The figure didn't answer. Instead, it cocked its head toward her. His eyes glowed a sickly gleam of red.

Not Jagger. He didn't have eyes that sinister.

Sonya ran and didn't slow down until long after the crystal had quieted.

She kept the occurrence to herself, fearful Jagger would be angry to learn she'd gotten so close to the hell gate. That was the last time she ventured out at night. Instead, she paced the roof, searching the skies for an answer.

Days passed by, the urgency of her mission growing. She tried to dismiss the oppressiveness of the rooms, convincing herself the feeling came from staying cooped up. She looked forward to the moment late each night when the crystal would light, telling her Jagger had returned.

Although they'd never picked up their intimate conversation, they still seemed to be getting along. Sonya caught him grinning on a number of occasions, although he always did his best to quell the expression. She imagined he was worried about losing his gruff nonchalance.

He never asked when she'd be on her way, never questioned her supposed mission or her plans. He simply expected her to be there when he got back from a job.

One night, long before she expected his return, the crystal suddenly sparked, sputtering into activity. She had been deep in meditation when the heat became too great to ignore. Extinguishing her candle, Sonya opened the apartment door, expecting to see Jagger standing right outside.

The hall was empty. Sonya peered around the corner and down the steps. No one.

Brows furrowed, Sonya went back inside and re-lit the candle. "Must have been a fluke," she muttered.

"Nope. It's just me, darlin'."

She spun to see a dark hooded figure crouched upon the sill of the open window. Beneath the hood lay heavy locks of silver hair. Red eyes gleaming in the shadow. The same man she'd seen at the hell gate.

He wolf-whistled at her. "Well, hello, gorgeous."

Jagger's voice, but gruffer, harder, meaner.

Sonya screamed and raced down the steps, charging straight for Enzo. The man looked so surprised he'd jumped up from his chair and caught her, holding her and trying to calm her.

All she had to do was show him the crystal, glowing hot. That brought out Enzo's true nature.

"Don't move!" He extended a hand toward the apartment door. It slammed shut.

A piece of lumpy chalk appeared in Enzo's hand. He drew a protective circle around them on the floorboards, chanting low under his breath. Drawing a small knife from his pocket, he sliced his thumb and dripped the blood onto the chalk line. A flash of red light raced around the circle. When it closed, a veil of energy shimmered up from the floor, encompassing them within a shield of magic.

Blood magic. Sonya realized why Enzo was so wary of her. Blood magic was a sin, an affront to God.

They stood, chest to chest, with nowhere else to look but at each other. He pressed his lips into thin lines, defiance in his gaze.

She smoothed her expression and quelled the urge to preach. This was not the time. There was a much more immediate threat, and Sonya had to make a choice—denounce his display of sin or admit that same sin was saving their lives.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Enzo merely nodded and dropped his gaze, before drawing her to his chest for a bolstering embrace.

She closed her eyes, welcoming the comfort.

They stood inside until the crystal flickered and dimmed, waiting for it to cool. When they seemed to be out of immediate danger, he scrubbed away a section on the circle. The light fell to the ground like sand, scattering onto the floorboards. As the grains melted, the circle vanished with them.

She sank down on the couch while Enzo made notes and took calls. Tightly, she gripped the crystal, her knuckles white. Fervent prayer moved her lips in a silent stream. _Jagger. Let him be safe._

So deep in prayer was she that she didn't know the crystal had begun to glow until it burned her palm. Her swift gasp alerted Enzo.

Wordlessly, he gestured to her to remain still before taking up a weapon. Calmly, he leveled a missile launcher at the door. Judging by the glow, she knew the projectile contained a Holy Water-loaded head.

The lock rattled.

The door opened.

Sonya held her breath, prayers momentarily forgotten.

_ANGELS_

Jagger clomped through the door, looking bloodier than usual.

And it _was_ Jagger, Sonya knew, not that red-eyed demon who wore his face. She only needed the briefest of brushes against his core to know beyond a doubt.

Sonya bolted toward him, arms outreached, and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, Jagger, thank God it's you."

He grunted in surprise, but he didn't dislodge her. Enzo briefly described the night's strange event, stopping short of venturing a guess as to the identity of the invader. He didn't need to.

Jagger hugged Sonya closer. He knew.

"I got things from here, Enzo." Jagger slid his sword free and set it on the desk.

His movement made Sonya keenly aware of his heartbeat against her cheek. She dropped her arms, hiding her face and her heated flush.

"You want me to call Ionis over?" Enzo picked up the phone.

"Nah." Jagger stooped to dig through the chest cooler and pulled out a bottle. "I got this."

Enzo dipped his head in a curt nod toward Sonya before pulling open the door to leave. Sonya fluttered her fingers in a small wave.

"I'm sorry." Jagger extended the bottle toward Sonya.

_Mango pop_ , the label read. She took it with a grateful smile.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I really frightened him. I shouldn't have over-reacted like that."

"You didn't. You were in serious danger, and you did the right thing. Dammit." He flipped open the clasps of his harness. "I didn't need him to find out about you."

"That's my fault," she admitted. "I've been going out walking. Only to spare your partner the distraction of me being here. I know why he's been so uncomfortable."

"You know I just want to yell at you for that." He eyed her a moment. "You know, I will yell. Why would you do such a stupid thing?"

"Stupid? What's stupid about trying to figure out why I'm here in the first place? I'm sure I wasn't pulled out of my world because the higher powers wanted me to experience a change in scenery. There's a reason I was sent to you. Not going to find it sitting around this house."

"Not going to find it if Acheron gets you, either. You'll just be dead."

She stilled herself. "It really was him, wasn't it?"

"Sounds like it."

She shook her head. "I can't believe it. I thought it was you. That hair, those shoulders. But his eyes—"

Jagger nodded. "Yeah. His eyes are something else."

"Well. You're here. It's almost dawn. Let's get you cleaned up." She rubbed her cheek where a smear of his blood had dried into an itchy patch.

He groaned. "Oh, no. You're not going to wash me, are you?"

"Of course not." She shrugged. "I just want to make sure there's nothing serious under that blood."

"You don't need to trouble yourself."

"You don't really get me, do you?" Sonya rubbed her mouth. The night was taking its toll—the anxiety, the scare, the relief—so many high-energy emotions. Even her Seraphic stamina could withstand only so much. And even after all this time, he still didn't get _who_ she was. "I can't ignore your hurts. Please, I'll be quick. Fresh wounds knit quickly if I get to them in time."

He searched her face a moment, before giving a slight nod.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, using only her Seraphic sight to look at him. Immediately, she saw each slash, each scrape, a hairline fracture in his hip. Gently, she reached up and peeled off his coat, trying to avoid opening the wounds that were sticky with blood. The damage was extensive, with some wounds penetrating his thick leather long-coat to score his pale flesh.

Tears swelled in her eyes, brimming on her lashes. Seeing him so wounded, so vulnerable made her forget that he was half-demon, half-enemy of all she'd ever known. She saw only the man, the person who took in a stranger just to help her on her mission, the soldier who put his life on the line to wage war with Hell itself. He did those things without expecting anything in return.

Selflessness. Sacrifice. Those things, she understood. She felt a connection to him she'd never before noticed. Never expected.

She leaned toward him preparing to heal him. Remembering what he'd once said about "waving a magic finger", she hesitated. Raising her hands and closing her eyes, she extended a part of her aura, encompassing him in her healing spirit.

It was a new sensation for her, this touching without physical contact. She envisioned her aura as an extension of her hands, stroking each limb, smoothing each ragged wound. The aura became her arms as she embraced him, her lips as she soothed the angry spots of pain. She lost herself in her aura, experiencing it full-bodied, full-minded, one with the simple healing.

She heard him sigh and cracked her eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the desk, head dropped back, his own eyes closed. The smears of blood were gone, his skin as unmarred as she'd ever seen.

"That feels better." His voice was low. "I would have healed by tomorrow but, I gotta say, I don't mind sooner than later."

"I feel better, too. You really don't know how hard it is to be a healer and have to see you come in after a fight." She crossed her arms and peered up at him. "Now if only I can get you to let me do something about the old stuff."

"Hell, you had a tough night, honey." He shrugged. "Maybe one or two scars wouldn't kill me. Just so that you'd feel better, I mean."

"Really? You'd do that—you'd endure a Deep Healing—for me?"

"It's not like I don't make out in the deal. You fixed my gimpy shoulder, remember?"

"I'm not going to argue. I really need this. I've been—" She laced her fingers, clasping her hands to her chest. There was no word for it. _Hunger_ was too shallow, _desire_ too nonconsensual. "Thank you," she finished simply.

"It's my pleasure." He stood and rubbed his palms on his pantlegs, planting his feet and presenting himself for inspection.

"So." Grinning, she pretended to scrutinize his chest. "What a mess. Where should I start?"

He returned the grin, a lopsided cockiness that she found endearing. "This might not be so bad. I forget what it's like to get pawed at by a cute little broad."

She frowned at him. "This is purely clinical."

"Okay, okay. Forget I said anything. Here, how about this one?" He pointed to the side of his neck, where a knot of fibrous scar dragged across his collarbone to his throat. "This one itches under my strap."

She reached up to brush his hair away. His breath quickened at her touch. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sonya hesitated.

He bit his lips together and nodded.

Sonya lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to the side of his throat, pouring all that she had into the contact. She reached out to him with her magic, her longing and her hope and her desire to ease his pain. Her heart soared, knowing she'd once again become lost in the healing, lost in the light and the rush of God's Will.

At once, she became aware of him—felt his shoulders beneath her hands, his flesh against her mouth. She breathed in the scent of his skin, picked out the rhythm of his heartbeat. So many sensations—Sonya was overwhelmed, her head spun, caught between her body and her soul. She couldn't ignore one to revel in the other.

She gave into them both. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced.

When she wobbled, he wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her. Her lips on his throat, she felt him swallow, felt the skin warm with the first of the healing flush.

Jagger gasped a sharp intake of ragged breath.

The sound grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of newly-discovered ecstasy. Alarmed, she tried to pull away, but he didn't let her go. Instead, he pulled her closer, cradling her head with his free hand.

"No," he murmured. "Don't stop."

She held the healing touch long past the moment when the skin had been renewed. When she could justify her closeness no longer, she pulled away and brushed her fingers across his neck.

He closed his eyes and relaxed.

His reaction troubled her. "It wasn't deep," she said. "It shouldn't have hurt."

When he looked at her, his dark eyes gave nothing away. "It didn't hurt."

"But why—"

"Because it was the most incredible thing I've ever felt." He dropped his arm, releasing her. "And it scared me."

She looked at him for a long, wordless moment. His bangs, handing loose over one eye, trembled slightly. What did it cost for him to say it? Surely more than she'd ever be willing to pay herself.

It was wrong to expect so much from him, especially since she was the one who showed up on his doorstep, looking for help. She had no right to demand an emotional price from him, not when she was the beggar. And although she wanted nothing more than to repay him with the only thing she had to offer, she couldn't force it on him.

Not when it hurt him like this.

She nodded once, lowering her eyes, chastised. "I'm sorry."

Turning away, she hurried up the stairs to her room and closed the door before the tears began to fall.

_ANGELS_

The last thing she expected was for Jagger to open the door behind her.

His breathing was labored as if he'd sprinted up the steps. Even his aura roiled, unrest coursing through his veins. Had she stirred his demon blood with her brashness?

Sonya's heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't turn around, afraid to endure his reproach. She'd gone too far.

Sonya pressed her hands to her mouth, holding her breath. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, she held on to her breath. The last thing she wanted was for him to hear her crying.

"Hey." His voice was low, rugged with emotion. "Sunny—"

There was no anger in his voice, no rebuke. Unsure of what she'd see, she turned toward him. Anguish played in his expression, his eyes full of conflict.

"Don't cry, you didn't—I don't want you to think—" He seemed to have trouble finding words. "I don't deserve—"

"Jagger, I told you." She swallowed past the knot in her throat. "I'm a healer. It's a job I have to do."

"Please don't say that." He reached behind him to close the door and leaned against it. "My whole life is just one job after another. Please don't say—"

He shrugged and hung his head, seeming to study the floor. "I don't want to be just a job to you."

His voice, so plaintive, cut through her, bringing tears of another kind. Stepping closer to him, she lifted his chin and bade him look at her. "You're not. You never could be."

Jagger ran his palms up her arms, looking relieved and uncomfortable at the same time. "I don't know what to do. I never felt like this. It's—it's not me."

She shook her head. "It _is_ you, Jagger. You just haven't seen this side of yourself before."

"So..." Licking his lips, he pulled her closer. "What do we do now?"

"Well." She smiled and leaned against him, resting her head against his chest. His heart beat a fast and steady rhythm. "Healing isn't the only thing I can do with my kiss."

His touch on her arms tensed, fingers pressing into her flesh. He released her, dropping his hands.

"Yeah, well. You don't know what my kiss can do." Jagger pulled away, gaze averted. "You've forgotten what I am."

"No, I haven't." Sonya reached for his face, a slight pressure on his strong jaw, to urge him to look at her. "You are a brave man who doesn't give himself enough credit."

"Because I'm not a man." His voice was bitter. "I'm demon."

"You have a mixed heritage, like I do. You can choose which nature prevails, Jagger, just as I can." She looked up into his grey eyes, seeing his torment, wanting to chase it away. No man deserved to be so full of conflict, especially not him. Hadn't he seen enough conflict to last entire lifetimes? "I choose this common ground we share. I choose to be near you, without fear."

"And what if I can't turn it off? You don't know me." He turned his head away again, doubt and anger leaking into his expression.

She took his jaw again, more firmly. "I do know you."

Sonya held him fast and looked deeper into his eyes, plunging herself, her essence, down into his inner places. She was not wrong, she knew. She'd looked down into him before and saw he was in as much control of his natures as she was in control of her own.

She'd never known anyone who was demon-born before, not even of the thinnest blood. Being half-human herself, she knew how much there was left to learn about her own divine nature. She could only imagine the unknowns he faced— or refused to face, given his stubbornness.

There was no reason they couldn't explore their unknowns together. She trusted him, and the hollow places deep within her craved his companionship. Sonya needed his protection. He needed her redemption.

This time, she didn't disguise her Seraphic touch. She allowed him to feel her as she brushed against his spirit: the caress of angel's down, the satin warmth of human flesh. Hands pressed lightly to his chest, she exhaled close to his lips, allowing him to taste her breath. This time, she allowed him to remember her intimate exploration of his soul.

His eyes widened, his breath caught. Jagger seized her with both hands, pulling her against him, drawing her face up to his. His breathing was ragged. Wild emotions surged through him, not the least of which being fear.

Sonya's hands were pinned between them. Now she was aware of more than his pounding heart beneath her palms. She felt the heat of his body: the hard muscle, his long torso, the press of powerful thighs. There was no part of her body that wasn't keenly aware of his, and she melted against him, unable to resist.

"I can't hold back if you touch me like that." Jagger's voice was rough, little more than a rumble. "My blood can get hot, Sunny. I don't want to hurt you."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "You can't."

"How do you know?" Still holding her a mere breath away, Jagger tilted his head, brushing his lips against her cheek, inhaling her scent. "I burn things, I destroy them. I'm not tender. I don't know if I can hold back."

She whispered close to his ear. "You don't have to."

He slid his grip down her arms to her sides, squeezing her waist. His response was low, guttural, and he bent down to bury his face in her neck. Hot breath poured against her shoulder a moment before she felt his mouth leave a trail of kisses along her throat.

Sonya let her head drop back, surrendering up to his exploration. She indulged him for several long moments, enjoying the sensual press of his full mouth, allowing his touch to enflame her in a way she'd never known. She cradled his head, plunging her fingers into his thick hair, pulling him closer. "In fact..."

She slid out of his embrace, enjoying the hungry look so naked upon his face. She toyed with her mouth, running her finger along her lower lip. His intense desire for her made her acutely aware of her own body, turning her legs to liquid. Backing away, a step at a time, she moved closer to the bed and extended her hand. "I'm really hoping you won't."

His lips parted in a ravenous smile, he plunged toward her, tumbling her onto the bed. They landed in a breathless heap, arms and legs a sudden tangle. He paused a moment, reaching up to tenderly push her golden hair out of her eyes, wearing a lopsided smile. "What kind of angel _are_ you?"

Sonya's voice was little more than breath. "Yours."

He leaned and kissed her, those full lips pressed against hers for a lingering, chaste moment. Breaking the kiss, Jagger inhaled, drawing her breath in. He kissed her again, this time with a silky slip of tongue when he tasted her.

The intimacy of his kiss made her gasp, his heat pouring into her, pooling in her secret places. She dug her fingertips into his back.

Jagger smiled.

When he let the fire take over, she welcomed him, welcomed all of him. She knew there was more than one way to heal a man, and she was eager to counter his fire with a cool touch of her own.

Their longing could be denied no longer. Together, angel-born and demon-born found their common ground and, together, they burned.

_DEMONS_

"You think you could stay a while?" He stretched alongside her, watching the lazy turns of the ceiling fan and the slow sway of the curtains. They were faded but he could see they had been blue once, with tiny stitched flowers along the bottom. It made him wonder what kind of people had lived here and what had happened to them.

He never cared before. Being with her made him curious, if not exactly caring.

"Why?" Her voice muffled by the pillow, Sonya lay on her stomach, her back sloping in a creamy curve of bare flesh, disappearing under the sheets bunched around her waist.

Jagger never lay on his stomach. He was too cautious. But looking at her laying that way made him respect her more for it. She was braver than she looked.

It also meant she trusted him. Nobody ever trusted him like that before.

"I dunno," he said at last. It was hard to put such strange feelings into words. "I just don't seem as pissed off when you're around."

"Small wonder." Her hair flopped over one eye as she pushed up on her elbows to look at him. He wanted to seize her and kiss her all over again, just for looking like that. "I must be getting your rotten moods in exchange. I feel like—shooting something."

"What!" He rolled over and pinned her, seeking the soft skin between her ear and shoulder and nipping.

"Heh. I'm just teasing—ow! You're squashing me!"

He pushed up on his arms to look down at her. "It's called tough love, baby."

"More love, less tough." She blew her tousled hair out of her eyes. "You're ruffling my feathers."

"I can handle it if you can." And he grinned, realizing he meant a lot of things when he uttered those few words.

"Tell me." She rolled under him onto her back and placed her hand over the scar above his heart. "Why won't you let me heal this scar?"

He covered her hand with his. "I didn't get this fighting anything."

"No?"

Jagger settled down to lie beside her. "I got it when my mother was killed."

"Oh," she said in a tiny voice. "I'm sorry."

He didn't seem to hear her. "Me and Acheron were born demon. Our hearts run backwards. It's what makes us demon. My mom—"

"You don't have to," she whispered.

"Yes, I do. If we're gonna—you need to know what's under this skin." He swallowed. "My mom was on the run. She didn't want Tallon to know about us. I was born in an alley because she kept running, even after she went into labor. I was born, and she held me upside and spanked me, but I didn't cry. I was a demon, Sunny. My father's son. She did the only thing she could. She prayed, and she jammed her finger into my chest, and she willed me to breathe. She stopped my heart. Her prayer restarted it and made it beat the right way.

"She thought the worst was over. But then the contractions got worse. Acheron was breech. He hurt her bad when he was born. She tried to restart his heart, too. But it was too late. They found us. The legion took Acheron and they killed her."

"No, Jagger—you don't have to say anymore."

He gritted his teeth. "The angelic host that came for my mom's soul protected me and put me in a safe home. Eranil raised me."

She nodded at the sound of the name but remained silent.

"When I was old enough to know the truth, they told me. I can't figure that out. Why do that to a kid? I was a baby when all that shit happened. I didn't have to know."

"You can't hide from a legacy like that," she said. "Even if they didn't tell you, you'd have found out. You have a twin. You are connected."

"Don't I know it. He found me. And he was a bastard about it. I knew one thing—I'd kill him one day for killing our mother."

Sonya bit her lips. It was hard to reconcile the two versions of Jagger: the man he claimed to be and the man she wanted to believe he truly was.

He rolled his head on the pillow and avoided her eyes. "He was never meant to be anything but demon. My humanity makes me weak. I had to work harder at everything because I only have one foot in the world. I'll hunt demons until I die and then I'll die knowing I did everything I could to stop them."

She traced her fingers over the lines above his heart. "That's quite a story for the scar. I knew there would be one, but I didn't expect that. Well."

She leaned down to kiss his chest.

Alarmed, he pushed her shoulders back up. "I told you. I don't want you to erase it."

"I wasn't erasing it." She smiled at him with a radiance to rival she sun. "I was blessing it. That scar is a sign of true love. I hope you always have it."

_ANGELS_

She never ventured to the hell gate again, but she didn't need to be near it to know it was gaining strength. Demon infestations were on the rise. Weeks slipped by, one day melting into the next. The calls came in more frequently, sending him out night after night.

When he returned at dawn, she healed him before allowing him to topple her into bed. He loved her savagely, seeming to try to put distance between the horrors of the battle he waged each night.

He sought sanctuary with her and sought it whenever he could.

Whenever their flesh met, a current passed between them, a spark jumping between their polarities. Opposites attracted, all right. They attracted and singed each other with their hunger.

His lovemaking left her exhausted, a lazy kind of languor she was beginning to relish. If only she could get him to lie with her a bit longer before dressing and going back downstairs.

Jagger hunched over the side of the bed, dragging his boots closer and shoving his feet inside. She watched him from her recline on the pillows, still buzzing with the contentment that lying with him brought.

His boots strapped, he slapped his thighs. "Well, babe, Time to work. Sun's going down and the creepies will be coming out to play."

"You have a job tonight?" She hadn't remembered Enzo mentioning one. Then again, Enzo didn't speak about work when she was around. He didn't speak much, period. Despite having accepted her into their space, he never dropped his guard.

"Not yet, I don't. I have a feeling I'm gonna get lucky, though." Jagger stooped to hook his jacket from where it lay in a heap on the floor. "There's been a job or an event every night for the past three weeks."

"Maybe not," she said. She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "Maybe you can stay in tonight."

"You okay?" He turned at the door, peering intently at her. "Your voice sounds funny."

Her body had changed quite a bit recently, she mused, but she doubted it would show in her voice. "I'm fine. Just—wanted to talk, is all."

"Don't worry, Sunny, I'll be fine." He came back to sit on the bed, pressing his forehead against hers. "I've been doing this a long time."

"It's not that. I need to tell you something."

"Then tell me," he said with a laugh, sitting back. "What's all the drama about?"

"Jag." She reached for his hand. "I'm—"

The phone rang downstairs. His arm tensed beneath her touch and he turned to glance at the door.

A moment later, Enzo called up the stairs. "Hey, buddy. Time to work!"

"Sunny." He shook his head, looking almost apologetic. "I have to go."

She swallowed hard and looked away. "I know."

"Hey. We'll talk as soon as I get back. 'kay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Later, babe." His boots made a hollow sound as he clumped down the narrow staircase.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and crossed the room to where a floor-length mirror was bolted to the wall. She regarded her nude body, smoothing back her tousled hair and running her hands down her arms, across her breasts. The movement came to a halt when her hands reached her abdomen.

She sighed. Heavy tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her fingers. "Just wanted to let you know... I figured out what my mission is."

_DEMONS_

One evening, the air in town felt—charged, for lack of a better word. Jagger sensed an energy on the wind, a silent vibe that made every vein in his body quiver. His demon blood detected it. He did his best to ignore it.

It'd be easier to ignore it if Sonya hadn't felt it, too.

"Something is coming." Sonya paced the floor again, sidestepping a squeaky board she'd discovered on an earlier pass.

"I can feel it. A storm?"

"No." She looked out the window at the gathering dusk. Sunset's warmth washed the sides of the buildings outside. "A person. He's looking for you."

Jagger scowled and yanked a strap tighter around his chest. His holster fit better now that he didn't have to baby that shoulder tendon. If one could actually call it babying; he never gave it any rest, despite its constant complaint.

Wearing the holster this way felt better. His shoulder felt better.

He stole a glance at Sonya, who'd paused in front of the windows to peer out. His gaze traced the familiar curves of her body, her creamy skin awash with the glow of the sunset.

Everything felt better now.

"Someone is always looking for me." Jagger smirked and pulled the rune sword out of the scabbard. "I seem to be on a lot of shit lists in this town."

"Don't joke, Jagger." She cast a stern glance over her shoulder at him. "This is different."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." The word sounded odd the moment he said it, hanging awkwardly in the air. Jagger wasn't used to apologizing. "Hey. I'll go down and grab us something from the cooler. Mango pop?"

He nodded when he saw her sudden smile. "Right. I'll be right back."

Jagger grabbed his gloves and tugged them on while trotting down the steps. Crossing the office, he walked over to an ice box in the corner. He'd only opened the chest when he noticed the smell.

It wasn't coming from the freezer.

" _Son of the betrayer_." The voice was little more than a gurgle. " _I've come for you."_

Jagger spun, gun in hand, eye-blink fast, spying the demon.

It heaved and glistened. And dripped.

_Great_ , Jagger thought. _A wet demon_. "You slimy bastard, you ruined my favorite chair. Let's see how much you like being in pieces."

" _I will end the rebellion._ " A chorus of voices moaned as one. " _And I will take my reward._ "

_Seventh ring of hell, at least,_ thought Jagger. Anything lesser couldn't group together like that.

His suspicion didn't last long, because the demon split into a group of smaller demons that circled him. Jagger bounced from foot to foot, watching as they converged.

There was no way out.

They closed, rejoined into a sold mass, trapping Jagger in its center. It was like being swallowed by a compost heap. Its surface was a sticky glob of stink and it oozed around him, pulling him in, trapping him.

Devoured by a blob. Just great.

"Ugh!" Inside, he could vaguely see out of the gelatinous prison. The walls were rubbery, resisting his attacks. His punches bounced off, and he slid down the side when he tried to shoulder-ram it. Where were his weapons?

_Still upstairs in Sunny's room. Aw, shit. Of all days to parade around naked._ Jagger spun in place, looking for a weak spot in the trap but not finding any. "Lemmee out!"

The floor trembled and the door rocked open as Ionis charged through, yelling his partner's name.

"No use!" Jagger rammed into the side of the demon and bounced back. It was like running into a gelatin mold. "It's charmed! Find my sword!"

" _Sword?_ " The demon chortled. " _You jest, half-breed. You cannot breech me. Only the blood of Tallon can enter my prison; no one can escape._ "

"Oh, will you shut up, already. Ionis! It's upstairs!"

_ANGELS_

The sudden sound of gunfire made Sonya look up. Without thinking, she grabbed Jagger's sword and raced for the door.

"Jagger?" Sonya ran down the steps. "Where are you?"

"Sunny! No! Get out!" His voice was muffled by the thickness of the demon.

"Stay back, little lady." Ionis spread his arms, forming an effective wall. If she were human, that was.

She had to stand on her toes to see Jagger deep in the eerie green bowels of the demon. "He said _the blood of Tallon_."

"That doesn't mean it won't kill you." Ionis herded her back toward the staircase.

She ducked under his arm and ran toward the demon. It heaved and turned, watching her, grunting with exertion. Sonya remained out of reach, careful not to get too close to the tendrils that anchored it to the floor and, subsequently, this plane. "I have your sword!"

She looked over at the mountainous Ionis, a subtle golden glow starting under her skin. "I'm sorry, but you have to move now, Ionis."

He backed up, one step, two. Faint alarm lifted his brows. "You shouldn't."

She closed her eyes. The glow seeped out, engulfing her. "Now, Ionis."

The big man backed away another step as the glow extended around her, giving the impression of folded wings. Her eyes took on the same golden sheen. The light built to a painful intensity. She stood a moment, amping up her Seraphic power.

Her wings unfurled and, with it, a pulse of divine power.

Ionis dove toward the desk but he wasn't quick enough to avoid getting caught in the blast. Sonya's energy snapped out like a super nova, stunning the demon and paralyzing its tentacles. Ionis took the blast from the back. The force knocked him off his feet and shoved him clear to the wall.

Deftly, she slid the sword free from its scabbard and plunged her other hand deep into the demon's mass. It cracked like a thick gel.

Sonya shoved harder, sliding in up to her shoulder, and ripped downward. Using her foot, she widened the breech, standing half-in, half-out of the demon's belly.

"Here!" She pushed the sword through. "Take it, Jagger!"

Jagger pulled the sword free from her grasp. As it slipped from her fingers, her energy level sapped, the room growing dim.

Sonya knew nothing more.

_DEMONS_

Jagger grabbed the sword from Sonya and shoved her back out of the demon's side. With a cry, he drove the enchanted blade into the closing chasm. The demon screamed in impotent rage as Jagger did what he did best: pure slaughter.

It was foul work. He hacked himself free, a wicked smile on his face. His blood burned with rage, a fuel that kept him swinging and stabbing his way to the thick core of the demonic blob.

With a particularly savage stroke, he cut through the central trunk, finding the heart chamber and shattering it. When the heart broke, the demon exploded, erupting in a shower of putridity. The goo plopped down in a thick rain, coating everything in the room.

Jagger stood in the remains of his assailant, panting and surveying the room, alert for any part of the demon that may have survived. Nothing but quivering green demon stench.

A noise from the far side of the room took Jagger's attention. Ionis groaned and pulled his knees toward his chest.

_He'd survived worse_ , he thought. _If he's breathing, he'll live._

Right now, there was another—

He called Sonya's name, spinning on his heels, searching for her. There!

She lay crumpled, unconscious in a watery puddle of demon muck. He dropped to his knees and pulled her shoulder to turn her onto her back. Her head rolled, limp. He yanked off his gloves and felt her throat.

_A pulse? There!_ Jagger wanted to scream with relief. His breath was ragged, the air burning his throat. Gently he gathered her up and carried her upstairs. The compass glowed like a star through her soiled blouse, lighting the dim stairwell like a ghost light.

The hours dragged by in a torment. Painful. Agonizing. The wait was a new kind of torture for Jagger. He hurried to his feet when he heard the doctor's footsteps on the stairs.

Lucar and Jagger went back a long way. The doctor was a neutral—didn't care much for alignment one way or another. But he had a sense of humor, albeit a sick one, and had one hell of a poker face. Made him a great wing man.

Jagger rarely called him in for professional services, since his demon blood gave him a certain measure of indestructibility. Right now, he hoped Sonya had the same kind of health plan. "So?"

Lucar closed the door to the apartment steps carefully behind him. He shrugged and removed his glasses, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

"She's resting." Lucar poured a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner before settling in the desk chair. "What do you know about that rock she wears? That crystal thing with the wire?"

"I guess it's a throwback to her hippie days."

"I'm serious."

"Fine, fine." He shook his head and ruffled his hair. "She said it's a compass that lights up when it gets close to the blood of Tallon."

"And does it glow around you?"

"Yeah. Apparently, my brother's been around, too."

Lucar drew his brows together. "Does the glow go out when you're not around?"

"She said so, yeah. What with the twenty questions?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe...everything." He took a shallow sip and grimaced at the bitter brew. "Because when I checked on her just now, it was lit."

Jagger was at the apartment door in a heartbeat.

"Easy!" Lucar stopped him before he could charge up the stairs. "There's no one up there. I warded the room. No magic, demon, contrived, or otherwise, will break the cloaking. She's fine."

"She's fine, _safe_ , or fine, _healthy, unhurt, perfectly fine_?"

Lucar laughed. "You should see your face. I never saw you worry about anyone before. It's comical."

"I'm not joking."

"I know. Look. We've known each other a long time. We've been through a hell of a lot together. You know if anyone on this plane has your back, it's me."

"Then grab a gun and let's go. If that crystal is lit, Acheron is around."

"He's not, Jagger."

"Whatever." He shouldered Lucar out of the way. "I'm going up."

She stirred when he opened the door, raising her hand from the bed. So weak. So frail. So pale against her golden hair, the thin blue line of vein just beneath the skin giving her the look of porcelain. Deep bruises ringed her eyes. She looked so...human.

She struggled to speak but her voice was a rasp. He shushed her, leaning to brush his lips against hers. He smoothed her hair back and stroked her cheek, watching her drift back to sleep before he could say a word.

There'd be time for that later. He sank into the chair next to her bed, holding her delicate hand in his, a dragon guardian his treasure. Such an odd feeling, having something to lose.

Jagger's neck hurt from sleeping in the chair. When he shifted, it caught, stiffer than a year-old corpse. Shit. She'd wanted him to lie down next to her, but he was afraid he'd crush her. She needed rest.

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. "Last time I do that, Sunny. I woke up on stone floors feeling better than this."

No answer. He dropped his voice to a hush, but he wasn't used to whispering. "Still sleeping? Poor girl."

Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward. The room was shrouded in the muted tones of early morning, the new sunrise not yet clearing the city buildings. Everything was awash in soft grey and blue and pink: the curtains, the vase on the table near the window, the bedspread—

The empty bed.

Gone.

He didn't find the note until much later.

Jagger had searched the building and the surrounding blocks and the old church tower for her, returning empty handed. Not a trace of her, of anyone, anything. The air hurt to breathe.

He didn't find the note until he came back, defeated and angry and frustrated, and sat on her bed, wondering how he'd gotten so stupid that she could have been snatched right out from under his nose.

A note—

I put you in danger. They found you because of me. You're better off if I go.

The note slipped from his fingers, dropping to the floor, the thin sheet of paper looking as abandoned as he felt.

_D_ _EMONS_

Enzo stood in the doorway, for the first time at a loss for words. Maybe because Jagger never knew grief before. Enzo had no clue what to say.

Rage? Violence? Self-loathing? Sure. But not grief.

Jagger sat on the empty bed, his back to the door. "Why, Enzo?"

"Blood of Tallon, Jagger. She reached right through that thing when bullets got stuck, and Ionis bounced off."

"She used magic. I saw the flash."

"I know you don't want to hear this, Jagger," Enzo said. "But there's only one explanation. She's got Tallon's blood, too."

"Don't say it." Jagger's gritted teeth sliced the words into a hiss.

"Didn't Lucar tell you her crystal glows all the time?"

"What?"

"She wore the amulet all the time, kid. And it glowed all the time, whether you were around or not. She's gone, man. You have to forget her."

Jagger was sure he didn't hear him right. But didn't Lucar try to tell him something? Did he know? Did he know and not tell him? Oh, fuck.

Panic filled him, a white streak of tremor that shook him to the core. It couldn't be true. He wouldn't let it be. Jagger sequestered the idea, his fear, and he stomped it down. Twisted it, turned it into something useful. Fury.

Fury was a liquid emotion that flowed through his veins, touching parts of his nature he'd never allowed to run wild. Fury awoke parts of his nature he'd long ago learned to quiet and ignore.

Fury wanted a target.

Jagger's breathing stopped as the demon blood took over. His skin paled, alabaster white, as if life simply drained out of him. He rolled his shoulders, set his feet, and smiled.

Enzo knew that look and knew well enough that it wasn't a time for words.

It was time to get out of the man's way.

_DEMONS_

Months passed in a bloody blur as Jagger threw himself into his work, becoming reckless and more dangerous than ever. He hunted, for demons and for her. So many false leads and dead ends.

Part of him burned away, useless tatters of tendencies that only held him back. Emotion, compassion, anything human. He forgot all the tricks, all the traits he'd learned so carefully to mimic, so that he could pass for human. So that no one would mistake him for demon, the nature that he loathed.

Now, he reveled in it.

What would she think of him? Would she be ashamed? Would she despise him? She brought him so close to his humanity that he forgot his dark side whenever he was with her. She'd touched him in a way he'd swore he'd never allow again.

Not if he couldn't have her.

Jagger pulled his sword free of yet another rotting demon's carcass, smiling with vengeance. He delighted in the killing. He craved it. His blood screamed for it.

For the first time in many long years, he was finally willing to listen.

Eventually, he had every demon in town on the run. The calls stopped coming in. So, he went out after them. Taking nothing more than his weapons and the clothes on his back, he left. Town to town he roamed, killing and chasing and remembering, trying not to remember.

Another town with a stupid name, even farther from home.

Home? He had no home. He hunted, going wherever there was a devil that needed killing. This town was uglier than most.

He'd been tracking a fourth-ring demon for days now. Not real bright, but evasive. Or, at least he'd let it think so. He'd hit it with Holy Water buck shot the day before, wounding it severely, then let it run. He gave it a head start.

Jagger toyed with his quarry. Once there was a time when he killed the demons and went home. Now there was no home. He had no need to rush.

The trail led into an old hotel, windows boarded up and tenants long gone. Jagger followed the drips of demon slime to a green puddle on the floor right outside a room on the third level. He moved like a gale wind, wearing a steel-cold smile while he kicked in the door. "Wouldn't it be easier to stop running?"

Dirty, dark room. Something small and sharp-nailed scurried behind the wall. "Nice try, asshole. No way out."

Click.

"Well," Jagger said, his smile stretching wider. "That sounded like a big ass gun. Since when did scary demons start needing those?"

"I swear if you don't leave me alone—" The voice, tremulous and thin, held a level of desperation that Jagger recognized. It was the sound of _nothing left to lose_. "I'll use this."

Then it struck home. Jagger fought to keep upright.

It was Sonya.

_DE_ _MONS_

"Sunny?" He shook his head, trying to quiet the demon blood and clear his senses. After running hot for so long, it was hard to find his humanity. He lit a flare and peered into the dark, seeking the source of a bright spot of light against the wall. "That you?"

"Leave me alone," she said. "Stop looking like him."

Sonya crouched in a corner, knees drawn up in front of her. Her eyes were wide. Her agony was nearly tangible.

She was alive. And she was holding a sawed-off double-barrel that under less abnormal circumstances he would have whistled at and asked to try out once.

But not now. Right now, it was pointed at him. And judging from the tangy smell of ionic vapors, it was loaded with demon shot. If the bullet didn't kill him, the divine poison could.

"Oh, God. Sonya. Put that gun down."

She coughed and cocked the hammer. "I'm not a sucker, either."

"Sunny. You can't hurt me with that. Well, it'll hurt like hell. But you can't—"

"Didn't say it was for you." She turned the gun around and pressed it to her chin. "I'll end this. I'm so sorry I started it."

Jagger panicked, the white-hot flood of fear surging though him and washing down through his feet. "Stop! It's me!"

"No, it's not." She was dirty, ragged-looking, gaunt. He never heard this tone of voice, so devoid of hope and sunlight. "It's never really you."

"Easy, Sunny. I didn't come all this way to take you home in pieces. Put the gun down."

"I want to believe you...but it's been so long." Tears cut rivers through the dust on her cheeks, pale streaks under white eyes. Holding the gun steady she ripped off the bright crystal, snapping the thin leather cord, and set it on the floor. Flipping the gun, she used the butt of the gun to smash it.

A flare of light shot out and flattened against the wall, which disappeared under its glare. The surface glimmered and pulsed, forming a portal. It hummed as it charged. "I'm going back."

"No. Don't! I don't care what anything means anymore." His anguish, pure human anguish, dispelled the last of the demon thrall. His voice cracked. "Just don't leave again."

"Jagger?" She whispered his name and reached out to him. "Is it...really you?" She pushed to her feet, using the wall for support. Her round belly made the simple act of standing a laborious effort. "Open your jacket."

He wrenched open his jacket. It clung to him, blood and mud and who knew what else making it stick to his skin. In the pale glow of the portal, his sickle-shaped scar shimmered. She wobbled on her feet. "Oh, God. Jagger. You're real."

He ripped his gaze from her midsection and pointed to the portal. The humming sound swelled to fill the room. "Shut that thing off, Sunny."

"Jagger?" She approached him with tiny steps. He threw the flare. Closer, closer, until he could feel her heat and the invisible brush of feathers he recognized as her aura. She touched his chest, fingers finding the sickle shaped scar and tracing it in the dark. "It's really you."

She looked deep into his eyes, like she'd done that first night, and he spun around the center of her touch. She gasped, recognizing, knowing. He was left with a crisp linen-feeling that purified him. The touch of a Seraph.

She kissed him, tenderly, her swollen body pressing against him when she lifted on her toes to reach him. He reached out to hold her, but she shoved him back, catching him off guard.

The portal screeched open, and a great wind gusted out, chasing debris around the room in eddies of power.

"Sunny!" His voice cracked.

"No, no. It's okay now." She smiled, her beauty undimmed by the dust on her face or the tears on her cheeks. "There is hope, after all. I thought I could defeat him, do it on my own...but it got too hard for me. I couldn't spare the precious energy to fight."

"I thought I lost you."

"You haven't lost me. I had to leave— draw him away from you, away from his source of power. He thought he chased me at first—oh, his pride! He thought he was so clever!"

"Him?" Jagger shook his head. "Who?"

"Acheron."

Jagger spun to look over his shoulder, but Sonya grabbed his arms.

"Focus! Don't let this all be in vain!" She raised his wrist, his rune sword still in his grasp. She took the flat of the blade between both palms and swiped it, from hilt to point, leaving a pearlescent glow upon the edge. The light pulsed gently.

The sword hummed in his hand.

"I will mask your presence. He will not sense you. This is your split second of advantage. You must strike. You have to do what I failed to do."

The portal widened, a cold light emanating, a swirl of mist hovering over its surface. Sonya squeezed his arms, taking back his attention. "You have only this one chance. We will have our time. Not now, but someday. I promise. We will have time again and we'll have a future. All of us. Just—"

She staggered backwards a step. The portal appeared to be pulling her.

"Sonya!"

"No, Jag. I must go or else...that bad thing I knew was coming would actually happen. It's him, Jagger. Acheron will succeed if you fail."

A crash sounded distantly, a slight tremor in the floor.

"That's him. Do it, Jagger. You have to do it."

She slipped out of his grasp entirely as the portal pulled her. The mist seemed to reach for her.

"Sunny. I..."

"I know." She reached for his face, drawing him to her for a gentle kiss. "And I promise. We will be together again."

Sonya kissed him again, sending a cool tingle over him. The same glow that had covered the sword now pulsed over his skin. She pressed the shotgun into his empty hand. "It's all up to you."

The portal yawned and surged forward. She raised her hand in farewell, other hand cupping her middle—she smiled—

A fist of light emerged, grabbing her and pulling her in before the gateway slammed shut. The energy coiled and twisted like a tiny tornado, spiraling down to the floor and condensing into a flicker. _Gone._

The air settled when the portal closed, and the room fell silent and still. Crypts held more breath than this.

Her image, a silhouette of red flare glare and white portal light, still burned on his retinas. Her condition was obvious.

That's why the crystal lit. She's carrying the blood of Tallon. My blood.

Pounding sounded again, this time closer. Jagger sprang back against the wall moments before the door flew open.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, sweetheart." A tall, slender man, dressed completely in black, stepped into the room. He pushed back his cowl hood revealing a slick of silver hair and a gleam of blood red eyes. "Game over."

_DEMONS_

Jagger held his breath. How long has it been since he looked into that face?

Acheron paced a circle, hand outstretched. "Come on, now, honey. I'm tired of running after you. And if I'm tired, I know you gotta be dragging your ass. Let's just agree to disagree, and I'll kill you. Get it all over with."

Jagger shouldered the gun's strap and slid along the wall behind Acheron.

"Of course, maybe you just wanna play a different game. Is that it? I know you like my type, doll. I can give you what you want. Just come out. I can feel you in here."

Filled with a white-hot rage that had nothing to do with his demon blood, Jagger raised the sword and pushed away from the wall. He lunged toward his brother, putting all his strength into the blow.

Acheron turned a moment before impact. Their eyes connected as the point of the blade pierced the dark brother's chest. Caught off guard by the blow, he staggered back against the wall. The sword travelled through Acheron and penetrated the rotting wood.

Acheron dropped his head backwards against the wall, howling with laughter.

Jagger backed away.

Acheron clapped his hands, the hilt of the sword snagging his sleeve. "Jag! How the hell are ya, bro? I should have guessed you'd be here. She's a sweet thing. No wonder you can't stay away from her."

Jagger swung his fist in a tight arc, rocking Acheron's head. "Don't talk about her."

Acheron laughed again and spit a mouthful of blood. It stained his sharp grin, teeth tinged crimson.

"Come on, bro. Let's settle this like real men. Or, whatever you'd call us. Just—" He spread his arms wide. A thin wisp of smoke curled up from the edge of his wound. "Get this thing out of me. It itches."

Jagger growled. "Do you know what you've done? To me? To this world? That damnable hell gate—"

"As if there's any other kind," Acheron interrupted with a bloody grin.

"—you've done nothing but bring wave after wave of demons into this world and for what?"

"To keep you in business?" Acheron shrugged slightly. Hard to do when a guy was pinned to the wall. "You make serious coin, and I've never asked for a cut. No need to thank me."

"No. You keep me in agony. I can't go a day without remembering what I am because of you."

"It's what family's for. Now, let me off this sword. When I pictured our reunion, it involved less talking and more fighting." Acheron pushed away from the wall an inch, then two. The sword remained rooted in the wall. "This is cheap, even for you."

"You've done enough damage. To me, to these humans, to this entire plane. It ends tonight, Acheron."

"It will never end, brother."

"Oh, yes, it will." Jagger stepped back and shrugged the gun strap off his shoulder, catching the stock in his hand. He leveled the barrels at Acheron's head, staring down the sights at his brother. Wisps of demon shot vapors wafted from the end of the gun.

"Really? A gun?" Acheron sniffed at the hair before giving a low whistle of admiration. "Hey, now. That's got premium demon bane in there. Harsh shit, bro, even for you. Bet that stung when you loaded it."

"Not as much as it'll sting you."

"Yeah, but that's all it'll do. You forget who's got my back. I'm not your average half-breed anymore."

"You're not? Shit, bad news for me." Jagger dropped the barrels and fired at Acheron's stomach.

Acheron screamed with hell fury as the demon shot tore through his abdomen. His entrails spilled out of his body, twisted black ropes gleaming and twitching as the poison chewed its way through his flesh.

"Oh, wait. Bad news for you." Jagger tossed the gun aside. "You would have stood a chance if you didn't let your humanity rot away."

Acheron threw his head back, panting through clenched teeth. A rivulet of blood dripped from his lips. "You cannot kill me. But I can still kill you."

He grunted with effort, teeth bared. His flesh rolled, moving like fluid over his bones as his body shifted. Skin blackened as bony ridges sprouted from his forehead. Acheron's voice deepened into guttural growls as his throat changed. He was taking on a demon's form.

Acheron grabbed the hilt of the sword and pushed. The blade scraped in the wall. He'd barely budged it, but it moved.

"And then I'm going to kill her." Another scraping sound. Horns pierced the flesh of his forehead, spiraling outward. Long teeth crowded his mouth "And then I'm going to rip that baby out of her gutsss, and I'm going to take him to Hell with me. Uncle Acheron will make sssure he getsss a proper education."

Fury made Jagger's mind go completely blank. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass orb. Its contents glowed, milky white and swirly. He raised it so Acheron could see it.

Acheron gaped, cockiness forgotten. "You wouldn't dare. We are brothersss. We are of the sssame ssseed."

"Don't have a choice."

"It'll dessstroy you, too." Acheron grasped the hilt and tugged, hissing and snatching his clawed hand away. "Don't be ssstupid."

"Even if it means we both go, it's better than you staying." Jagger bit down on the cork and yanked it out. Light erupted from the neck, spilling upward in a rush of windy sound. "You killed our mother, Acheron. It's time I return the favor."

Jagger hauled back the hand gripping the bottle. The contents spilled on his hand, burning his flesh. Steam rose from the wounds.

The scalding pain bolstered his conviction. If it burned him—and he was half human—what would it do to a man whose heart ran backwards?

With a scream, he threw the bottle at Acheron.

The orb hit him on the chest, smashing in a wet shower of broken glass. The Holy Water burned through his clothes like it was acid. Acheron's torso began to smolder, his howls of terror and pain drowned out only by the sound of Holy Retribution—the wind and the light a force that Jagger never got used to witnessing.

But this time—this time, retribution came for one who'd been a Captain of Hell. It was off the bloody scale.

Jagger sank to his knees, clutching his hand, watching the Holy Water eradicate his demon-born brother. It was a slow, stinking process but, when it was over, all that remained was a pile of singed black rags.

Acheron was gone.

Jagger hung his head. Although he'd always hoped that some part of Acheron could be saved, he knew his brother had never claimed his human side the way Jagger had.

If only.

He closed his eyes and pressed his wounded finger to the scar over his heart, remembering his mother.

"I'm sorry," he said into the empty room. "I wanted it to be different. I didn't—please, Mother. Ask Him to be merciful. To him...and to me."

After a moment, he pushed to his feet and yanked his sword out of the wall. Scanning the room, he saw a tiny spark of light on the floor near the place Sonya had opened the portal.

Stooping, he saw it was Sonya's crystal, intact once more. He picked it up, palmed it, relished the heat it emitted as it warmed his palm. It felt like a promise.

He stowed it in a pocket of his leather duster. Without as much a glance over his shoulder, Jagger left the room.

It was finally time to go home.

_DEMONS_

When he shouldered open the front door, Enzo nearly fell out of his chair.

"Ionis! Get over here now!" He dropped the phone and jumped up to clap Jagger on the back. "You're back! I thought I'd lost you for good."

Jagger pushed off the enthusiastic embrace and grinned.

"Yeah, well." He unzipped his pocket and pulled out Sonya's crystal. "I brought you a souvenir. That way you can find me when I get lost again."

Enzo took the proffered gem, glancing at it briefly before setting it on the desk. "So. You found her. Why didn't she come back with you?"

"She needs time to recuperate."

Enzo looked thoughtful. "But she's a healer."

"She's got a lot to work on. Anyway." Jagger gestured around the room which was crowded with cardboard boxes. A banner spread across the couch read _LUCKY DEVIL SECURITY_. "What's going on here?"

The agent barked out a short laugh. "Like you don't already know. The hell gate is closed, man. We've been put out of business. Ionis has resorted to working personal detail for the mayor. He hates it."

"So would I." A chill ran down Jagger's neck and he shivered. "I don't trust politicians."

"But you'd slay demons?"

"Them, I trust. They always act the way you think they will. Predictable and trustworthy, every single time."

Enzo crossed his arms.

"Yeah, well, there's going to be a shortage of honest work around here for a while. Good thing you saved your coin. Nonetheless." He slapped Jagger on the shoulder once more. "Glad to have you back. You look starved. Can I get you something? A pizza? I heard some ginger chick is driving delivery now."

"Maybe later. I want to lay down a while. My ass is dragging."

"No problem. I'll get a couple trays and keep 'em warm." He peered up into Jagger's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

"That's why I'm wondering. You don't lay down often."

Jagger spied the magic chalk that had dropped into Enzo's hand. Really? The witch was going to truth-spell him? "Put the effing chalk away. It's really me, and I'm really not in the mood."

Reluctantly, Enzo pocketed the chalk. "You gotta admit. It's not like you."

"I'm ready for a change." Jagger rubbed his hair back. "Call me down if anything comes up."

He didn't think anything would, not for a while. Acheron's final hell gate was closed. Hope for this world—and for Jagger himself—had been restored. He was counting on things to be quiet for a while.

Until Sunny returned with their child.

_A family?_ He scratched his head and grinned. He'd spent his entire life cursing his wretched lack of a real family and suddenly...well, he never thought he deserved anything he didn't earn. That child was her gift—one he never expected. It meant an end to a life that was lived day to day. It meant there was a future.

He opened the door to the apartment and trudged up the stairs, hoping that the bed was still made. Would the pillow still smell like her? He looked forward to falling asleep in that bed and had a feeling that, if he dreamed, he wouldn't mind.

He was right.

For the first time in Jagger's life, Acheron didn't haunt his dreams. The demon was truly dead and gone. He slipped deeper into sleep, floating in the dream world and feeling a lifetime of worry slip away, layer by layer.

Sonya, dream-thin and glowing with ephemeral warmth, leaned close and kissed him, feather soft, whispering her promise again.

He smiled and turned over in his sleep, hugging the pillow closer. Until they met again, he'd be satisfied to dream.

THE END

_ABOUT_ _ASH KRAFTON_

USA Today Bestselling Author Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction author from the Pennsylvania coal region. She writes novels, short fiction, and poetry for upper young adult-and-above audiences.

If she's not writing, it's probably because she's distracted by all the cool junk on her desk or by the stacks of books that have grown up around it.

The Books of the Demimonde: urban fantasy trilogy

Enter the world of the Demimonde.

Look outside your window. Same old town, same streets, same people, same stories you've lived all your life. Or... are they?

Sophie Galen is an advice columnist from the suburbs of Philly. Like many sensitive women, she's done her best to create a shelter for herself in order to live in a safe, predictable world, protecting her vulnerable self: her mind, her heart, her soul.

Then he came into her life and blew the walls in.

When Marek Thurzo arrived, he brought with him all the secrets she never wanted to know: the world outside was not what she thought. There were people and creatures and powers she'd never dared to believe exist and at the very center of this humongous supernatural web was one single person.

Her. The Sophia. The one hope for redemption for the Demivampire race.

Some days, she still can't wrap her head around the whole thing. Other days...

...she's ready to do whatever it takes to protect her Demivamps, no matter the obstacle, no matter the enemy, no matter the personal cost.

While meeting her deadlines, of course. Who says a girl can't multitask while saving the world?

Bleeding Hearts (Demimonde #1)

Blood Rush (Demimonde #2)

Wolf's Bane (Demimonde #3)

The Demon Whisperer: new urban fantasy series

Simon Alliant is an exorcist who battles demons, whether he wants to or not. Sometimes it's not so bad...he gets to play with magic, after all.

But for Simon, magic represents a demon of another kind. He's addicted to magic and it takes more than a handful of charms to keep that particular demon at bay.

Call him exorcist. Call him master of the dark arts. Call him dime-store magician. Most names don't matter, not when Hell knows yours.

Charm City (The Demon Whisperer #1)

Murder the Light (The Demon Whisperer #2)

Straitjackets & Holy Water (The Demon Whisperer #0)

WORDS THAT BIND: paranormal romance

Never fall in love with a client...especially when he is an immortal djinn, and you are the talisman to which he is bound.

Social worker Tam Kerish can't keep her cool professionalism when steamy client Mr. Burns kindles a desire for more than a client-therapist relationship—so she drops him. However, they discover she's the talisman to which Burns, an immortal djinn, has been bound since the days of King Solomon...and that makes it difficult to stay away from him.

Ethical guidelines are unequivocal when it comes to personal relationships with clients. However, the djinn has a thawing effect on the usually non-emotive Tam, who begins to feel true emotion whenever he is near. Tam has to make a difficult choice: to stay on the outside, forever looking in...or to turn her back on her entire world, just for the chance to finally experience what it means to fall in love.

Words That Bind

THE HEARTBEAT THIEF: Victorian fantasy

Haunted by a crushing fear of death, a young Victorian woman discovers the secret of eternal youth—she must surrender her life to attain it, and steal heartbeats to keep it.

In 1860 Surrey, a young woman has only one occupation: to marry. Senza Fyne is beautiful, intelligent, and lacks neither wealth nor connections. Finding a husband shouldn't be difficult, not when she has her entire life before her. But it's not life that preoccupies her thoughts. It's death—and that shadowy spectre haunts her every step.

So does Mr. Knell. Heart-thumpingly attractive, obviously eligible—he'd be her perfect match if only he wasn't so macabre. All his talk about death, all that teasing about knowing how to avoid it...

When her mother arranges a courtship with another man, Senza is desperate for escape from a dull prescripted destiny. Impulsively, she takes Knell up on his offer. He casts a spell that frees her from the cruelty of time and the threat of death—but at a steep price. In order to maintain eternal youth, she must feed on the heartbeats of others.

From the posh London season to the back alleys of Whitechapel, across the Channel, across the Pond, across the seas of Time...

How far will Senza Fyne go to avoid Death?

It's a little bit Jane Austen, a little bit Edgar Allan Poe, and a whole lot of stealing heartbeats in order to stay young and beautiful forever...

"There was something smart, ominous, and romantic about this strange story..."

The Heartbeat Thief by Ash Krafton

TAKIN' IT BACK: urban fantasy

Think there's nothing worse than becoming like your mother? Try being possessed by her spirit.

Twenty-year-old Aerie hates running collateral recovery for her father's magical supply shop. Repossession is a nasty business, even when you're good at it. She'd rather be the store's new Acquisitioner but Pop says that job's for someone who finds things, not loses them. When a mysterious amulet must be found, Aerie sees an opportunity to prove her worth to him.

That's when a spirit trapped inside the amulet possesses her, instead. Demonic powers are handy on a door-knock or when facing down one's nemesis, but mages can't use the demonic ley without becoming tainted. Worse yet, the spirit may be Aerie's difficult, dead-beat, long-gone mother.

The demonic possession will destroy Aerie if she doesn't get the amulet off—but the only person who can do that is the guy she repo'd it from. Mr. Probable Ulterior Motive believes if she finds some crummy old book she'd lost years ago, she may discover the spirit's true identity and prevent its damnation. Aerie must entrust her fate to a complete stranger or let the demon get what it wants—and it wants Pop dead.

Gonna be one Hell of a family reunion...

Lara Croft meets "The Magicians" in this story of magic, adventure, and hidden truths.

Takin' it Back

Join the Fictitious Initiative...

If you'd like an email whenever Ash has a new release, great giveaway, or special offer, you can sign up here (http://www.subscribepage.com/b1w9p1). Your email will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Thanks for reading!

Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you've enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a brief review—just a line or two is fine, and it may help another reader decide to give this book a try. And if you really enjoyed reading it, tell a friend. Friends share : )

Find Ash Krafton

Blog | Twitter | Facebook

Goodreads | Pinterest | Instagram

Website

