“What happened to your head?”
Razr jammed his fingers through his short, dark hair. “What, you liked the bald look better?”
“Yes. Also, this is for you.” He held out a thick gold business card embossed with silver letters that spelled out “The Wardens.”
“What is it?”
“It’s where you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
Razr stopped breathing even as his heart revved from a sudden injection of hope-fueled adrenaline. He stared at the silver letters as if they were a lifeline and he was drowning. “Are...are you sure?”
“I have it on good authority.”
Razr’s hand shook so hard he nearly dropped the card. This was it. The way to repair some, if not all, of the damage he and his teammates caused when they’d lost three of Heaven’s most valuable weapons, the Gems of Enoch, and got their human custodians killed. One gem, the Terra Amethyst, had been recovered, but two remained: Darlah’s Fire Garnet and Razr’s Ice Diamond.
Finding either or both would return Razr to full angel status and erase the stain on his reputation...and his soul.
Azagoth, clearly knowing what Razr was thinking, nodded. “Go,” he said. “Take as much time as you need.”
Razr sucked in a stunned breath, but really, he shouldn’t be all that shocked. Azagoth might have a reputation for cruelty, but he was generous with those who were loyal to him. Razr was about to thank him when the angel wing glyph on the back of his hand, usually invisible, began to glow. Fuck. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the last time. He usually got thirty-six, give or take a couple of hours, to recover. Although once he’d gone barely eight. The random nature of this particular angelic punishment was a pain in the ass.
“That was shitty timing.” Azagoth, the King of Demon Souls and Understatements, pulled a well-worn cat-o’-nines out of his desk drawer. Because, of course, one must always be prepared for spur-of-the-moment torture. He held up the weapon with way too much enthusiasm. “Mine or yours?”
Razr’s personal flogger was in his pocket, and he swore he felt it burning through his robes. “Yours,” he muttered, figuring it was always better to get someone else’s stuff bloody.
Azagoth held the cat out to Jim Bob. “Want the honor?”
Razr bit back a groan as the angel took the weapon and stroked it like an old lover. “It’s been a long time.”
“Really?” Razr said. “Because you seem like the type who gets off on torture.” It was a stupid thing to say to someone who was far more powerful and who was about to turn Razr’s back into hamburger, but he’d never been known for his tact.
Jim Bob, who rarely even smiled, laughed. Clearly, the guy’s sense of humor circled the gallows. Razr would respect that if he weren’t the one swinging at the end of the rope. “Will you stand or kneel?”
“Well,” he drawled as he dropped his robe so he was standing naked in front of Azagoth, Jim Bob, and Zhubaal, “I figure I’ll start on my feet and end on my knees. That’s usually how it goes.”
Jim Bob made a “turn-around” gesture, and after taking a deep, steadying breath, Razr assumed the position, bracing himself against the wall with his palms. “How many?”
“Six,” Azagoth said before Razr could answer. “I don’t know why.”
“I do.” Jim Bob’s soft reply hung in the air and reeled through Razr’s mind. How did Jim Bob know? Sure, everyone in Heaven probably knew about Razr’s screw-up with the Gems of Enoch, but few were privy to the specifics of his punishment. The guy must be well connected in Heaven, which only added to the mystery of his dealings with Azagoth.
The whistle of the nine leather straps, each tipped by sharp bone spurs singing through the air, interrupted Razr’s thoughts. Pain exploded across his shoulder blades and forced a grunt from him. But not a scream. He never screamed.
The second blow was worse, the third so intense that he sagged to his knees. Usually he could stay on his feet until the fifth strike, but Jim Bob was strong, and he wasn’t holding back. That was the thing about floggings in the angel and demon worlds versus the human one; Razr could take hundreds of lashings from a human. Hell, he could take thousands and not die.
But when someone with superior strength and mystical capabilities was wielding the whip, the damage increased by a factor of holy shit.
The fourth blow knocked the breath from his lungs, and the fifth made him see stars.
The sixth, placed low on his hips, knocked him onto the cold floor, sprawled in a pool of his own blood.
Maybe this was the last time. Please let this be the last time, he thought, just before he passed out.
Chapter Two
“Ma’am, pardon my French, but you’re full of shit. There are no fucking deposits here. No Taaffeite has ever been found in Madagascar. This is a waste of time and a waste of a fuckton of money. I don’t care about your credentials. Like I said, you’re full of shit.”
Jedda Brighton resisted the urge to punch the man in his unshaven, saggy face the way she’d been wanting to do for the last two weeks. Two weeks of putting up with the mining engineer’s alcohol-fueled crude talk and casual sexism, which he blew off as her being an oversensitive snowflake when she called him on it. Two weeks of watching him treat the local diggers like slaves. Two weeks of listening to him bitch about his “whore of an ex-wife” and “outrageous” child support. He was the type of asshole who, if a woman turned down his advances, would accuse her of being a lesbian.
Because sure, didn’t all women love an overweight, abusive slob who looked and smelled like a walking hangover and who thought he was God’s gift to women? If not for his considerable wealth, no woman would put up with him, and he either didn’t know that, or he didn’t care, which made him either stupid, or scum, or both.
Jedda was going to go with both. Hell, she wouldn’t put up with him for even this job if it weren’t for the fact that she needed him to dig for gems she couldn’t otherwise reach on her own.
“First of all,” she said in her snootiest voice, “I’m fluent in a dozen languages, including French, and what you just said wasn’t even close. Second, I’m the best damned gemologist and mineralogist in the world, and if I say there’s a bloody fortune in Taaffeite here, you can rest assured that there is.” She smiled sweetly. “And after you find it, you can shove it up your ass.”
He waggled sandy brows that glistened with sweat from the oppressive heat in this godforsaken jungle. “How about you do it for me?”
Sweet Satie One-Eye, he was disgusting, and even Satie, an elf hero of lore who had fought giant demonic maggots, would agree. This guy was a whisky dick personified. Adjusting her hard hat, Jedda stepped around him and headed inside the mine. “You really don’t want to taunt me.”
“Taunt...or tempt?”
Ugh. Gross. In the last two weeks, had this idiot not figured out that she didn’t play well with others? Especially not human others? She supposed she should at least be grateful he wasn’t aware that she wasn’t human, but then, maybe if he knew she was an immortal being he’d leave her alone.
She might have to reveal her secret just to freak him out.
He followed her down the relatively cool shaft, past workers who were busy extracting gemstones that, while less valuable than Taaffeite, would still net Tom’s mining company a nice profit. But he still played the injured party, insisting that this venture was a waste of time and resources.
She knew better. As a gem elf, she could sense minerals that gave off energy undetectable to humans, energy that she survived on. Enchanted stones, gems that had been blessed or cursed or used in powerful rituals, were the most life-enhancing, especially when absorbed into a gem elf’s body, but there was always a risk involved when using them, as she knew very well.
Her boots crunched down on uneven ground, but she kept her footing, her enhanced reflexes and night vision giving her a distinct advantage over humans and most demons. Tom followed her much more slowly, cursing now an
d then, muttering his displeasure at being bested by a woman. She had no doubt he was generally capable in situations like this as long as he kept to a safe human pace, but his macho attitude wouldn’t let him lag behind, and he had no idea she was genetically suited for this exact situation.
She laughed when she heard him trip and fall. “You okay?” she called back. “I can slow down if you need me to.”
“I’m fine,” he barked, and she laughed again at his volley of obscenities. What an asshole.
She kept going, reaching out with her senses as she navigated the dark tunnels. She could feel the elemental vibrations change as she passed each new mineral, some of them leaving no more impression on her than common gravel, others whispering to her like potential lovers. But none of them possessed the special signature of the Taaffeite. Still, she was close. She couldn’t quite feel the deposit yet, but she could smell it, a faint anise and berry tang in the musty earth that made her mouth water. Every gemstone had its own unique scent, some spicy, some sweet, and Taafeite was a delectable combination of both.
What felt like a cool breeze tickled her skin from an unexplored tunnel on the right. It was narrow, with jagged stones jutting from the sides like a giant cheese grater. Carefully, she went to her hands and knees and started to crawl.
“Hold up there, sweetheart,” Tom called out. “My men haven’t reinforced this yet, and I’m not about to—”
“Shut up!” She paused, inhaled, tasting the sharp bite of beryllium and aluminum on the back of her tongue. “It’s here,” she breathed excitedly.
Giddy with anticipation, she turned up the intensity of the light on her helmet, and there, just ahead in a space big enough to stand, was a glint of violet peeking out of the boring gray and brown stone all around it.
Grinning, she scrambled the remaining distance in the crawlspace, and when she stood, she marveled at the sight of a thick vein of one of the rarest gemstones in the world. There was another vein near the ceiling, and she could sense more deep in the walls. She doubted there was more than about seven hundred carats’ worth of Taaffeite here, but at around three to four thousand dollars per carat on the human market and double that on the demon one, the stones would net a respectable haul. And because it was so rare, adding even a hundred carats to the market would increase the value and the demand since right now few knew about it, and those who did were collectors.
Very carefully, she plucked a chisel from her gear belt and dug a jagged hunk of stone from the surrounding rock. Under the light from her helmet, the purple gem glittered, even with all the rough material coating it. Its aura glowed with stunning intensity, something the obnoxious human crawling toward her wouldn’t be able to see.
She closed her fist around the gem and inhaled, letting its vibrations absorb into her body. Power pounded through her, making her flesh throb and her blood surge. This was a natural stone, untouched by anyone, so its energy was pure, neutral, and unenhanced. It would give her added strength and stamina, but it wouldn’t add or subtract from any of her special abilities.
It was, in the simplest of terms, life.
Tom emerged from the tunnel like a grumpy bear awakened from hibernation. “What are you doing?” As he stood, dirt cascaded off him in a choking cloud of dust.
She opened her fist. The gem was gone, the earth and rock that had surrounded it nothing but crumbs in her palm. “I’m admiring my find,” she said, letting the remains fall to the floor of the cave.
As he studied a vein of Taaffeite, she dug another, about the size of her thumb, from a crevice nearby.
“Nice work, honey,” he said, talking directly at her breasts. “I’m impressed. Everyone said you’re the best. Should have listened.”
“Yes, you should have.” She turned toward the tunnel to escape this cretin, and as she did, he slapped her on the ass. Instant, searing rage welled in her chest, and fuck it, she was done with his shit. Her anger destroyed the tight control she kept on herself, and suddenly the cave lit up with the soft, iridescent glow emanating from her skin. She knew her eyes, normally ice blue, were glowing as well, still blue, but more intense.
“What the fuck?” Tom leaped backward in fear, but the fear turned to terror when she smiled and held up the gem she’d just dug out of the earth.
“Remember what I said you could do with the Taaffeite when we found it?”
Later, she wondered if the other miners heard his shouts for help. She also wondered how long it had taken for that stone to dislodge itself from his ass—and if he’d sifted through his shit to find it.
Chapter Three
Razr had always liked Scotland. The weather was moody, the landscape could almost be described as arrogant, and the people were tough as shit. Liking the place was a crazy contradiction for him, because he both envied the humans who lived here and was thankful he didn’t have to live here. Nice place to visit, and all that.
Today’s visit, however, wasn’t about seeing the sights, drinking the whisky, or eating haggis. Just twenty-four hours after Jim Bob gave him the gold card, Razr was taking back what was his and restoring his dignity and reputation.
Since he’d lost his ability to flash from place to place when his wings were bound, he’d taken a Harrowgate, a transportation system used by demons to travel around the human and demon realms, to the outskirts of a walled village populated by dhampires. Few knew of the existence of the half-vampire, half-werewolf beings, and even fewer knew about their Scottish villages. Humans were especially clueless; their eyes might see the towns and the people, but their primitive minds wouldn’t register any of it, and wards placed around the properties would repel humans on a subconscious level.
His boots left deep prints in the soggy earth and fog dampened his jeans and formed tiny droplets on his jacket as he walked toward the village’s walled east entrance. He could smell the recent rain and taste the ocean salt in the air, but he didn’t let any of that distract him from the fact that he felt more than one set of eyes keeping track of him. Dhampires were cautious folk, secretive to the point of paranoia, as vicious as vampires and as unpredictable as werewolves. They’d gotten the best and worst of both species, and only a fool would let their guard down around them.
Just inside the village wall he was met by thatch-roofed houses and a burly female with short-cropped dark hair, razor-sharp fangs, and a crossbow slung over her shoulder. An unusual ripple of energy surrounded her, unusual in that while dhampires were certainly a formidable species, they weren’t generally associated with special gifts. This dhampire, however, looked like she kicked ass with special abilities on a daily basis, and maybe bragged about it.
As a battle angel, he could appreciate that.
She propped her fists on her hips and blocked his path. He didn’t appreciate that. “State yer business, yer species, and yer name,” she said in a thick Scottish accent. “And make it quick. I don’t have all day.” She snapped her fingers in a show of impatience.
Man, he wished he still had angel status and more powers than the few weak defensive skills he’d been left with, because no one spoke to angels with so much disrespect. So instead of a display of power and wings, he decided to mess with her.
“Maybe I’m a human traveler named George who just wants to stop for a meal.”
“Ye came through the Harrowgate, so ye aren’t human or ye’d be dead, ye lyin’ ballbag.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned in. “I’ll ask one more time. Who are ye, and––”
“My name is Razr,” he ground out, extending the gold card Jim Bob had given him. “I’m a fallen angel, and I’d appreciate it if you got out of my face.”
She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Ye don’t smell like a fallen angel.”
That was because this lyin’ ballbag wasn’t one. “What do fallen angels smell like?”
“Shit.”
Ah. “Well, I’m newly fallen. Maybe I have to earn my stench.”
Unamused, she snatched the card away and frown
ed down at it. “Why do ye want to see them?”
Did she think he was born yesterday? Or even a century ago? “I’m sure those who wish to see a secretive group of people don’t tell you why they’re here.”
“No, they don’t. But what they don’t say is as important as what they do.”
“And what am I not saying?”
She smiled, her lips peeling back from those wicked-looking fangs. “That ye’re seeking something. And it’s important. Which means ye need to be nice to me or ye won’t get it.”
Damn, he hated inferior beings on power trips. “Fine,” he sighed. “You’re a...sturdy female with big muscles and a voice so deep and breathy that Darth Vader would be jealous. Is that nice enough?”
She laughed, breaking the ice. “Come on.” She led him down a cobblestone street lined with small houses and quaint shops, and then onto a dirt path through a thick copse of trees. He followed her until they came to a clearing, in the middle of which a stone tower stood. As they approached, a big male and a petite female exited.
A wave of power rolled off them, the same as the female who’d brought him here. And then he knew. These were the Wardens, the Triad, three dhampires chosen by fate or blood or some mystical crap to guard the most priceless things in the world. And they were in possession of his gemstone.
The male, his dark hair swinging around his shoulders, spoke first. “I’m Galen. You’ve already met Rhona.” He gestured to the petite, fire-haired female who hung back but who radiated more power than the other two combined. “That is Isla. State your business.”
“You people aren’t real friendly, are you?” They stared, and he resisted the urge to taunt them more. As an angel, he was used to the stick-up-the-ass types, and he knew they often had short fuses, and he didn’t want to fuck this up. “I’m here because I believe you’re in possession of something that belongs to me.” He held out his hand so they could see his ring. The ice-blue diamond glittered in the hazy sunlight that managed to punch through the gray sheet of clouds above. “It’s this stone’s larger mate.”