The door slams behind her, and I take a swig of my drink, thankful as fuck she won’t be. Nothing against her. She was one of the more tolerable mortals. It’s just that I’m at my quota. Two Nephilim to keep alive so my soul doesn’t become a permanent fixture outside those heavenly gates. And it will take more than a set of pouty red lips and a perfect ass to distract me.
A hell of a lot more.
Even if my dick gives off the impression of being easier to sway.
Sometimes, existence stays the same for so long, I forget how fast everything can go from la-di-da to all-out fucked. Then, out of nowhere, all hell breaks loose—sometimes literally. Demons surface, my brother loses his shit. Two brothers, if you count the one ready to give up his immortality to spend eternity with his charge. And, I mean, no offense to Cassannah, but I do.
While all that crazy might have died down, I still have to deal with the lingering possibility that the one being who has a massive hard-on for killing me may or may not have the sole object in existence necessary to pull it off. Which means a constant waiting for everything to go to hell again.
I snag the amulet off the kitchen counter, tossing the chain over my head on my way out the door. I stick it down the collar of my shirt before I cross the hall and walk into what might as well be my second apartment. The new living arrangements required a serious downgrade from a badass condo to a one-bedroom with terrible plumbing. But I’ve subscribed to the policy that the closer my charges, the better.
Avery spares a flick of her gaze before returning to her book, curled up on one end of the couch in the living room. “Hey,” she says, distracted. She tugs at the blonde strands stacked on top of her head, tightening the knot, and slides the black frames up her nose. “Kai’s in the shower.”
No shit. I could hear the pipes whining from my apartment.
I plop down beside her, and she pulls her socked feet back, tucking them underneath her. I flip on the TV while she reads, the silence between us very much our norm. If Kai earns the award for being my favorite charge, his twin sister deserves accolades for being my lowest maintenance. She was eight before my powers kicked on because of a true threat of danger—a drunk driver when she was riding her bike home from the library. No hazardous habits or even fun ones, so adrenaline responses with her stay minimum. Most days.
“Has he introduced you yet?” She absentmindedly weaves the black cord of her locket through her fingers.
Kai has one too, only dangling from his are their father’s dog tags—killed by an IED when they were kids. The twins have worn their necklaces constantly over the past year. Not that they have the choice. I cast protection spells on them to ward off demon powers and other bullshit and used the light to “suggest” they leave them on permanently. It allows for a longer leash with them, and with two to juggle, every inch of breathing room helps.
I tap the end of the remote on my chin, deciding on a movie to stream. “Who am I meeting?”
Her baby blues pop up. “Whoever he’s seeing.”
The book snaps shut, and she tosses it to the floor, readjusting to sit on her knees. Boring or not, gossiping about her brother always lights a fire in her. If only she knew about half of his extracurriculars. Underground boxing rings, street racing—whatever he can find to keep the adrenaline pumping.
“He broke out the Armani cologne he bathes in whenever he has a steady fling,” she says.
The chick thing doesn’t shock me. Kai’s been lying low lately. Lots of stops at a coffee shop and an apartment complex several blocks from here. Surefire signs he’s found a new fixation.
He settles down now and then with a girl he’s ready to give the world to, then he gets bored out of his mind in about a month and triumphantly returns to a one-ride-only philosophy. But since his trip to the men’s room with the blonde a few weeks ago, most bursts of light from him come late at night when he’s alone—or when the pipes moan a warning that he’s in the shower. So, he’s not screwing whoever he’s supposedly screwing, which is surprising.
Avery checks behind me as the floorboards creak in the hallway. Kai struts out in the nicest pair of jeans he owns and a shirt he fucking stole from me. He pushes his hair back, a few shades darker than his sister’s, so it sticks up in the front. I’ll be the first to admit, my line of Nephilim has been nothing short of exceptional in the looks department.
“Get lost in my closet?” I ask as he stops at the end of the couch.
“Jealous it looks sexier on me?”
I snort, shaking my head. Kid’s cocky as shit. Another trait passed down through their line. It serves as a reminder that running through those veins is angel blood—half of it anyway, undiluted by the generations between him and my original Nephilim.
Kai shoves his phone and keys in his pocket, backing toward the door. “I’ve got to run a quick errand, but I want you here when I get back.”
I wave him off. He wants me to ask why, but as long as it isn’t anything that makes my job harder, I don’t care. He’s barely out the door when I bite back a grin, having found the perfect movie. There’s a reason I only watch TV at their apartment, and she’s sitting right next to me.
“Another horror movie?” Avery hugs a throw pillow to her chest, pouting as she sinks into the cushions beside me. “You should see a therapist or something. You get way too much pleasure out of making me squirm.”
“Squirm, scream, panic. I’d be thrilled if you developed an anxiety disorder.”
I throw her a wink, and she rolls her eyes.
We settle in for an hour and a half of jump scares. With each one, the light floods through me. I stretch out my fingers, feeling the power ready and waiting. Her heart pounds, and her palms sweat, and I’m loving every fucking second of it.
“What’s that?” Avery shoots up on the couch, looking away from the screen.
A surge of light has me scanning the shadows, but the chance of real danger lurking inside the apartment is minimal. I have this place spelled to shit against demons and even other angels—a bag of crystals that block either from entering, other than me. I stashed the blocker bag behind a vase in a kitchen cupboard Kai and Avery never use with another one hidden in an air vent as backup.
“Oh my God.” She latches on to my arm. “Did you hear that?”
I pause the movie because I did hear something. A muffled thud, thud, thud. Then comes a whiny voice in the hallway, equivalent to what I can only describe as road rash to the soul.
“Chazaqiel!”
Fucking. A.
I groan, hitting play, and then I toss Avery the remote. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” she asks, claws still sinking in until I shake her off.
“I forgot my phone.”
And to spell the entire apartment complex.
I open the door and close it again without a sound, and then I prop against it to watch the universe’s most irritating heavenly parole officer bang on my door across the hall. Straight blonde hair hangs to her waist, the black skirt tight on her hips and curving over her ass. Lydia curses under her breath, bringing a phone to her cheek. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the vibrations from mine on the kitchen counter.