The hounds had him moving steadily north. Towns thinned out to smaller towns and finally just sparse outposts. He waited until there was nobody else around the quiet parking lot before opening the door to his room for the night and letting the hounds in. He hadn’t slept since he’d set out, and it was time to get some rest.
Wherever Eddie was being held, it was probably going to involve a fight to get her out. The angels swore blind she wasn’t in heaven, and as much as he didn’t trust those sanctimonious fucks, keeping her in heaven would make no sense. No, if the angels had taken her, they would have been far more likely to kill her.
On that cheery thought, he opened his bag of fast food and unpacked the contents.
Being on earth made him more susceptible to human needs. Although he didn’t need to eat and sleep as regularly as humans, he did still have those needs.
The hounds would need to feed soon, which meant he’d have to find some useless piece of human detritus and let them take its soul. Or a demon that was hanging out here when it shouldn’t be.
He made short work of his burger and fries and flipped the television channel to a news station.
Cronus and Xerxes sprawled on the other queen bed in the room, their huge bodies eating up the space. Both hounds had their eyes closed, but they weren’t sleeping. They were filtering out the input from their physical senses and letting their metaphysical senses take over.
Hounds fed on souls, which meant they could find souls, and they’d been hunting the ether constantly for signs of Eddie. Being bonded to her, they were particularly susceptible to the unique soul signature she gave off.
As much as he wanted to ask, he suppressed the desire. They would tell him as soon as they caught so much as a flicker of Eddie.
Shade concentrated on the news. If Eddie’s hell gate was unstable, it could mean the others weren’t faring much better, and the human news channels were his best source of information. Weak hell gates and missing demons didn’t need a physicist to piece together. If demons were escaping into this realm, they would bring havoc with them.
He read the ticker tape running along the bottom of the screen. An African dictator was making noise about reclaiming land from a neighboring country.
The news went from politics to crime. The news anchor was one of those interchangeable plastic looking faces with a trust-me expression and a weighty way of delivering their script.
The word rape caught Shade’s attention and he turned up the sound.
“…fifth rape and murder in as many days. London police are asking the public not to panic…”
Shade tuned the lacquered and painted anchor out.
Another article along the ticker tape caught his attention. This one about a famous artwork being stolen from a museum. Human news was always bad, and Shade didn’t know why they watched it. But there seemed to be more bad news than normal. A riot had broken out in a US city for no apparent reason, and a few people were dead, several more wounded. Negotiations had broken down between two large NATO allies, and the politicians were taking nasty swipes at each other over the media.
The effect of the breaking seals was most definitely leaking into the earth realm.
Chapter Eight
This bloody angel was going to be the death of Wrath, which might be a possibility for the first time in his eons-long life. Head held high, humming to herself, she marched their asses through the lush jungle like she was leading the heavenly host to Zion. Leaving him to tamely follow behind like he was carrying her fucking harp and trumpet.
“Isn’t the river lovely?” She stopped a moment beside the winding, lazy, green river, slapped a delighted smile on her mug, and drew in a huge breath. Her breasts pushed against her tight white tank top as she did so.
What had happened to the old voluminous robes angels used to wear? Those were far less distracting. He nearly suggested she put her cape thingy back on.
“And there is the loveliest fresh breeze coming off the water.” She turned her beaming smile his way. “Everything smells of flowers. And the colors are glorious.”
“What are you wearing?” Angels were not supposed to be wearing form fitting white tank tops and flowy pants that the breeze molded to their long, shapely legs. The soft fabric stuck to her ass like she owed it rent.
“What?” She blinked at him and then glanced down at herself. “I thought this was perfect for the jungle. Not too tight, and natural fabrics. Linen is best in humid climates. I researched it.”
He wouldn’t know sod all about linen and humidity, but he did know what temptation looked like, and despite their day of tromping through the jungle, she didn’t have so much as a speck of dirt on her. A fine sheen of perspiration had bronzed her dusky skin like the flesh of a ripe peach, and he wanted to take a great, big ball-curdling bite.
“You must be hot.” She grimaced sympathetically.
“No.” Sweating beneath his fighting leathers like the palms of an adolescent boy with a Playboy in his hands. Leathers were good for fighting and hiding weapons, good for protecting him from glancing blows from other weapons. Plus black disguised blood so much better than all that white could. He had no idea where she’d hidden her blade beneath that skimpy top or those translucent pants.
“Okay.” She shrugged and strode off again.
And he kept right on following.
“So, your power is coming back?” She tossed the words over her shoulder as if his answer didn’t matter to her. It damn well should matter to her, because him getting his power back might be all that stood between them and a horde of angry demons determined to add an angel’s wings to their trophy wall.
What color were her wings? Ramiel’s wings mirrored his in white, the filaments shot through with red and silver. As part of Ramiel’s host, did her wings in any way mirror his? He liked the idea that they might have that in common.
Stap his vitals, but she had him thinking like a moony eyed boy. Wing feathers! He was fantasizing about the color of her wing feathers.
She’d stopped and was looking at him expectantly.
Oh right, his power, she wanted to know about his power. “I guess we’ll find out in a fight,” he said.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “You know this would be so much pleasanter if you’d stop being so grumpy.”
“I’m Wrath,” he groused. “Grumpy goes with the territory. And what have you got to be so infernally chirpy about anyway?”
“I’m having a lovely time.” She waved her hand at the jungle. “It’s not often that an angel of my standing gets to journey to hell, and then only in the company of our archangel. And it’s so vibrant here.” She bent and cradled a flower in her palm. “Look at this gorgeous pink. Have you ever seen such brilliant color?”
No, he supposed he hadn’t. He was probably going to earn himself another comment about his grumpiness, but perky angel tits needed a reality check. “There’s a reason you don’t come here without your archangel,” he said. “Demons don’t like angels and do their best to make sure angels get that message.”
“I know that.” She shook her head at him. “But let’s not forget it was me who saved you from that demon earlier.”
