Reaping Angels

  It appeared I’d now caught the attention of two supervillains. And really, really bad ones at that.

  I pulled my car into the hospital parking lot, in the area reserved for doctors. From experience I knew they didn’t mind.

  As I stepped out of the car, my skin prickled with awareness. I threw a glance over my shoulder. Just rows and rows of cars.

  I turned my attention back to the hospital. What would it be this time—the burn unit, or the oncology department? Just as it usually did, excitement was replacing guilt. Whose lives would I change today?

  As it happened, my footsteps led me to the neonatal intensive care unit, where several nurses swarmed in and out.

  Today it would be a little bundle of joy. Thankfully, I didn’t see any parents at the moment. I probably wouldn’t make it back out without a broken plea or two, but for now I was okay.

  I chose my patients based on their need, not on the persuasive power of parents, which meant that I made enemies even as I saved lives.

  “Angel,” a nurse breathed when she caught sight of me.

  At the name, the others turned towards the doorway. “Angel!” another said. People had seen me on TV; they knew my face and recognized my gold jumpsuit.

  “Are you here to … help?” one asked.

  I nodded. “Which of your patients is most in need?” I asked.

  “Little Brandon over here,” the nurse led me to him.

  When it came to the premature babies, I’d noticed it was usually the boys that had the worst complications. Strange that for a gender that could become so fierce and strong, they were more vulnerable than their female counterparts at this age.

  The nurse didn’t tell me what was wrong with him—they never did.

  I scrubbed up, needlessly following hospital policy, my pulse hiking. Today I’d save a life other than my own.

  The nurses led me back to Brandon, and they removed a portion of his incubator so that I could reach inside.

  I stared down at the tiny baby. He looked so delicate. Dropping my hand in, my finger smoothed down his soft cheek and reached for his tiny fist. I held it between my thumb and forefinger and waited.

  When his face scrunched up and he began to cry, I removed my hand and stepped away.

  Whatever little Brandon’s medical issues were, now they were gone.

  By the time I pulled up to L.A.S.D.’s headquarters, a.k.a., Madcap Mansion—named so because we were all bat-shit crazy—it was almost ten at night. I could hear music blaring from one of the rooms, and shouts and laughter coming from another.

  It was the Justice League meets Animal House—the Real World, superhero style. I lived here with over three dozen of L.A.S.D.’s finest.

  “Duck!” came a scream from inside as I opened the door. I dropped to my knees just as a bolt of lightning sailed through the doorway above me. I slipped inside and sauntered over to the kitchen.

  I grabbed a slice of pizza from the box in the kitchen and popped open a beer. I normally didn’t drink, but after the day I had, alcohol was in order.

  A moment later, Shadow materialized beside me. “Are you going to do Skinny-Dip Sunday with us this week?”

  “Hells yeah,” I said, heading out of the kitchen.

  “Perfect.” She winked out of existence.

  Pizza in one hand and a Corona in the other, I made my way to the living room, the source of most of the shouts.

  “…two outs, bases are loaded.”

  Oh baby Christmas elves, The Game was on. I sprinted the rest of the way, vaulting over a recliner someone dragged into the hallway. I shoved a bite of pizza into my mouth as I stopped in front of the screen.

  “Angel, get out of the way!” A peanut bounced off of me.

  Not looking away from the screen, I stepped aside. A little.

  Bottom of the ninth. I’d practically missed the game. And my team was losing, two to three.

  “Rodriguez is up to bat.”

  I held my breath as the pitcher threw one strike, then one ball. Then …

  Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! I screamed, my food forgotten, as Manny Rodriguez knocked the ball into the outfield.

  Runners sprinted around the bases while the outfielders ran for the ball. As soon as the second man crossed the home plate, I spilled a little of my beer doing a victory dance.

  Behind me I heard Rocket groan and Zephyr say, “Fork over the money, my man.”

  “Angels won, again,” I sing-songed.

  A bitter Rocket muttered, “You only like them because you’re their mascot.”

  “Awww,” I made a pouty face at Rocket, “don’t be a poor loser. I’m sure the Rockies will pull through next time.”

  “It’s a ‘poor sport’ and a ‘sore loser,’ Angel.”

  “And you’re both.”

  He flipped me off, which I sort of deserved. I smiled and took another bite of pizza, then waved it at the room. “Bye lovelies, I’m off.”

  I sauntered down the hall, ducking when another bolt of lightening almost singed me. What started out as a sucky day had come full circle. Regardless, I hoped tomorrow would be better.

  Coming up to my room, I shoved the pizza in my mouth and, after wiping a greasy hand down my pantsuit, opened the door.

  I flipped on my light and kicked the door shut. Closing my eyes, I breathed in a contented sigh. Home sweet home.

  My skin prickled the same way it had earlier today. My eyes snapped back open. Leaning against the far wall was the Executioner.

  He’d broken into my room. My mutha-fucking sanctuary.

  My spine stiffened. The Executioner was inside Madcap Mansion. The Executioner was inside Madcap Mansion.

  Shi-it. If I didn’t want to set him loose on my friends, I needed to move my happy ass out of superhero headquarters ASAP.

  “What are you doing here?” I breathed.

  He stood there, his body blending with the shadows, and watched me. “I think you already know.”

  “You seriously thought you could snatch me from my own room?”

  He didn’t respond. No, the douchelord simply closed the distance between us and plunged a syringe into my neck.

  Chapter 5

  Executioner

  I reached out and ran my hand down Angel’s face. I could touch her. Would my wonder ever diminish?

  Her head leaned against the passenger side window of my car. I’d had to inject a sedative into her bloodstream to keep her out until I got her to my place. A strong one, otherwise her body would’ve worked it out of her system too soon.

  Still, it wouldn’t last long.

  I slowed the car at a stoplight, then glanced over at the superhero beside me. Now that her sharp eyes no longer focused on me, I could study her. Caramel colored hair, skin that held just a touch of tan, sweet, soft lips.

  With the pad of my finger I traced those lips—lips I’d kissed. How had I never realized before that her abilities would cancel my own?

  I scowled. What if I’d been mistaken? What if what happened earlier was a fluke?

  I drew my hand away. No, not possible. Panic lanced through my veins. After all this time, I’d finally gotten a taste of what I’d been missing, and now I needed more. The thought of that single encounter being it … the idea was too terrifying to comprehend.

  I pulled off to the side of the road. Have to check.

  Leaning across the console, I studied her cheek and lips. Unblemished. The others I’d touched always had blisters or red, swollen skin, no matter how careful I was.

  Still. Perhaps the damage was internal.

  I placed my ear next to Angel’s heart, ignoring the swell of her breasts. The organ thumped away. Good enough for now. I’d wake her once we arrived at my Malibu home.

  And to think that I dreaded coming to L.A. for this capture. Perhaps she’d exorcise some of my horrific childhood memories of this place.

  There it was again—hope.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, X. She will hate you at first.
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  I stared at her for a long moment before steering the car back to the road.

  I’d work on extinguishing her hatred later. Right now, I needed to get her back to my place before she woke and tried to escape. Only then would she be mine to do with as I wished.

  And how I’d wished.

  Madman

  Madman was busy losing to Aries in Halo when the vision hit him. He dropped his controller and clutched the sides of his head.

  “Dude, no fakeouts just because you’re getting owned,” Aries said, his eyes pinned to the TV.

  “Not … faking it.” Madman was no longer inside his namesake, Madcap Mansion. Instead he found himself in a dark bedroom. At its center rested a bed, and on it was Angel.

  “Angel …” he whispered.

  “What about Angel, Madman?” The voice echoed from some distant place. Was he here or there? Could never tell.

  “Where have you taken me?” Angel asked.

  “I don’t know,” Madman said aloud. “You tell me.”

  “Huh?” Aries said.

  “You are in your new home,” a deep voice said.

  Madman’s gaze strayed from Angel. In a shadowy corner of the room, a man watched her, arms folded. The black jacket he wore fit like a second skin, and a hood covered all but his nose and lips.

  The Executioner.

  “No, not Angel,” Madman choked out.

  “What’s happening to Angel? What are you seeing?” that distant voice asked.

  Madman couldn’t answer, not when his attention was focused wholly on Angel. She was his favorite, though he’d never admit it. Pure of heart, contagious laughter. She’d pulled him from the edge of madness over and over again.

  And now she was going to die.

  Angel

  I woke on a bed. Don’t remember falling asleep.

  I blinked away my grogginess, and my surroundings came into focus. When I took in the dark walls, the shaded windows, and strange furniture, my brows knit together.

  I pushed myself up so that my back rested against the bed’s headboard, and I rubbed my eyes, stifling a yawn. My hands were left unbound.

  Across the room a floorboard creaked, and my attention snapped to it. Against the darkened wall stood a deeper shadow. A human-shaped shadow.

  The Executioner.

  The last moments of lucidity came back to me. I must’ve been drugged and abducted. From my room in Madcap Mansion. We’d never had a security breach before. Not until tonight.

  I scoured the room again. “Where am I?” I asked. Fear never factored into the equation. I was the hunter, not the hunted.

  The Executioner stepped out of the shadows. “You are in your new home.”

  “My new home?” I raised an eyebrow. He thought he could just keep me here like some kind of sex slave? I smiled at that amusing thought. “I don’t think so, amigo.”

  “Oh, but I do.” The Executioner stepped to the foot of the bed and lifted his hood. All dark features and dangerous planes. He had the kind of violent beauty that killed you as you drew it in. Literally.

  I rubbed my sternum. “Have you … touched me?”

  The Executioner’s mouth curved into a sinful smile.

  He had.

  “Where?”

  His hand dropped to his jacket’s zipper, and he began removing the fitted material. The Executioner was undressing himself at the foot of the bed I was on. “All you need to know, Angel, is that I saved the best for last.”

  Chapter 6

  Angel

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m staying here,” I said.

  The bastard smirked, shrugging off his jacket. “Then leave,” he said, stepping aside.

  I stared at him as I maneuvered myself off his bed. His eyes tracked every one of my movements. “Why would you bring me here if you were planning on letting me go?”

  He stayed silent for a long time. “I don’t,” he finally said.

  “Are you going to try to kill me again?” I asked, eyeing the door next to him.

  “Not now that I can touch you.” He wanted to make the switch from killer to lover. Pretty ambitious move. Naturally, my wants weren’t factored in.

  “And you think I’m going to let you touch me again?” I asked.

  “I know it,” his voice dropped low, almost a growl. The way he said that sent shivers down my spine.

  “I want to leave.”

  The Executioner gestured to the door. “Then go ahead and try.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Try? You think I can’t walk right out of here?”

  A confident smile spread across his face, though it never reached his dark eyes. In them I could see anger and hunger simmering just beneath the surface.

  What a disturbed, lonely creature. I was so used to laying my hands on people and healing them that I took a step towards him before I remembered myself.

  Don’t give him exactly what he wants, Angel. My attention moved to the open door and the hallway beyond.

  This must be some sort of trap, I thought as I cautiously left the room and entered the corridor. Some way for me to play directly into the man’s hand.

  The Executioner followed me out. I walked down the hall and glanced out a nearby window. I was on the second story of what appeared to be a large estate in the hills. Of Los Angeles? Or somewhere else? And even if we were still in LA, were we in the Hollywood hills, Malibu, or Palace Verdes? Nothing about the view immediately gave our location away.

  I headed for the staircase at the end of the hall and took the stairs down. The den I found myself in was windowless. I walked through it and into the next room. Another windowless space. As I passed into the next room, I found myself back in the den at the foot of the staircase I’d just descended.

  Huh? I could’ve sworn I hadn’t circled back.

  The Executioner walked up next to me. I absently noticed he’d fisted his hands. To keep from touching me?

  I scowled at him “Your floor plans make no sense.”

  He shrugged, heading past me to a bar nestled into a nearby alcove, where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a drink.

  I let out a huff of irritation and climbed up the original staircase, only to find myself on a new floor. Walking over to a window, I peered outside again.

  Damn it. It looked like I was on the third floor, but I could’ve sworn I returned back to the second floor. I rubbed my temples. I was turning into Madman, minus the soothsaying abilities.

  At least from this view I could see glittering blue water in the distance. That removed the Hollywood hills.

  I wandered around this floor until I hit another staircase that appeared to descend back down. What the hell, I might as well check it out. I walked down what felt like an eternity of stairs only to arrive in an entryway. And patiently waiting for me on the other end of the entryway was a large, carved door.

  Success! Or, as Latin soccer announcers put it, goooooaaaaal.

  I stalked towards it. Grabbing the handle, I yanked the door open. And came face to face with a brick wall.

  Executioner

  I took a sip of whiskey, silently thanking Mirage, the master of illusions, for her work on my place. She happened to be a good friend—perhaps comrade was a better term. There were no friends in my line of work, just individuals banded together by similar needs.

  In exchange for the death of one of her longstanding enemies, she’d pimped out my home with illusions to confuse the hell out of visitors. Because the only visitors I ever had were unwelcome ones.

  At least, until now.

  Now the mirages would help keep Angel in. My Angel. Yeah, I was getting used to being proprietary as fuck when it came to her.

  I tipped back the glass of whiskey.

  “What the hell?”

  My lips curled up at the corners at the sound of her voice. She was learning that escape was impossible unless I willed it.

  And I did not will it.

  I could hear her stomping aroun
d on the floor above me. I swallowed down the last of the whiskey and, setting the empty glass on a nearby table, I took the stairs to the first floor just in time to hear a crash.

  Fuck.

  I found her in the living room. She’d already managed to rip my flatscreen from the wall. It lay in pieces on the floor.

  She breathed heavily, and in her hand she held a Minoan stirrup jar I’d stolen from the Athens Museum a few years ago. A priceless piece. I had sticky fingers when it came to valuable objects.

  As soon as Angel caught sight of me, she cocked her arm back and hurled the vase at me. I caught it with a grunt. Girl had an arm on her.

  “What do you think you’re doing, woman?” I said, my anger flaring. I set the piece of pottery on a nearby table.

  “Get me the hell out of here, or I’m going to destroy your entire place.”

  My jaw tightened. “Are you threatening me?”

  In response, Angel walked over to a bookcase that showcased souvenirs from my travels, her wavy hair bouncing with her gait. So goddamn lovely.

  She didn’t even hesitate when she reached it. She simply grabbed the wood siding and yanked the bookcase forward.

  “No.” I was moving, but it was too late.

  The bookshelf tipped forward, my heavier souvenirs sliding off first and then the rest following.

  The sound of the crash was all I needed—to—snap.

  Angel

  I turned, my eyes prowling the room for the next object to destroy. Before they landed on anything, I caught sight of the Executioner.

  His cheeks were sucked in with anger. Then they expanded out as he exhaled, then back in again. His nostrils flared. Pissed off didn’t begin to describe the rage on his face.

  He stalked towards me, his movements fluid.

  Right about now the captain’s earlier words echoed in my head. Get the hell out of there.

  Working on it, captain.

  I spun on my heel and fled in the opposite direction, down a darkened hallway. At the end of it, a staircase waited. Had I already climbed this one? Did it matter at the moment?