A clock tower rose ahead of him, high into the cavern, and the sound of music drifted from that direction. He looked around again, noticing for the first time that most of the people in the street were heading in that direction as evening fell in the outside world above them.
It might be a good place to scout for his target.
He followed the flow of foot traffic, mingling with them and pleased with his job of blending. With his wings concealed, and his mortal clothing of thick-soled black leather boots, black jeans and a black t-shirt, he didn’t stand out at all. Many of the Echelon chose to wear robes or their armour when visiting the mortal plane. Nothing drew the eye like a seven-foot-tall male in full regalia with huge white wings.
He had tried explaining the meaning of the word covert to his comrades, and it hadn’t gone down well. Being the youngest at only four hundred and sixty-seven years old, his opinion was often listened to and then immediately discounted.
The thought of having his wings out made the ridges of tissue lining his shoulder blades itch though. It had been too long since he had taken a moment to unleash them and take to the skies. He preened them every night before resting, but it wasn’t the same as flying.
The smell of magic swirled around him, stronger now, and the music grew louder ahead of him, but it didn’t stop a moment of silence from dropping like a shroud over him when the scent of a demon hit him and the mark on his inside right wrist flared hot.
Positively combusted.
Golden light glowed from it and he slapped his hand over it, hiding it as a few heads turned his way, curious gazes drawn by the sudden burst of light.
An urge went through him, dark and dangerous, screaming at him to call his blade.
A demon.
He could feel it somewhere close to him and it wasn’t the normal kind, the sort that crawled from Hell and declared themselves as demons from realms that were numbered.
No. This one was strong, born of the Devil’s blood, still under his command.
He scanned the crowd, hunting for the male responsible for the sudden burning in his wrist, and the rising desire to materialise his sword in his hand and do battle. It was hard to keep his focus when that hunger was clamouring in his blood, his instincts as an angel of the Echelon driving him to destroy the demon threat.
This sort of demon required a more cautious approach though, because some of them were old enough that they were a match for his strength and all had been trained in fighting.
Running headlong into a battle against a demon from the Devil’s ranks would be a mistake, and he wasn’t the sort of male who made mistakes.
He ran his eyes over the people surrounding him again, searching for the demon. Where was he? Satan’s demons rarely left Hell, so what had drawn this one to the surface?
He huffed when he couldn’t spot the male. Perhaps they were down a different street. If they had been on the same one as him, he would have easily spotted them. Most demons from the Devil’s ranks matched his seven-foot height, a gift from their fallen angel DNA.
The music swept back in as the burning in his wrist began to fade and he forced himself to move forwards, towards the square. There seemed to be a festival happening. Now that he was closer, he could see colourful rectangular banners stretched taut across the front vertical beams of wooden stalls selling goods. People formed small groups, with some in the centre dancing to the band that had set up beneath the clock tower.
The festivities distracted him from thoughts of the demon and he managed to quell his mark, so the burning became little more than a dull ache.
Until his eyes settled on a female across the square from him, sitting on a stone ledge that was at least six feet high and formed a pathway that ended in steps that led down into the square to the right of her.
Not his target.
Something else.
He curled his lip at the sight of her, dressed in a rather revealing fashion of a short black corset and even shorter skirt. She swayed as she laughed, swinging a mug in her left hand and spilling some of the contents onto a group of males below her. They all stared up at her, enraptured. Well, almost all of them did. Judging by the angle of some of their heads, they were busy looking up her ridiculously small skirt.
Her wide smile flashed short fangs but it was the black horns that protruded from her long onyx hair and her gender that gave her away.
A demon, from the Devil’s service since that fallen angel had eradicated all females from the ranks of the species who had mutinied against him, those from the numbered kingdoms.
He had never seen a demoness.
He arched an eyebrow as he studied the crowd and noted that the demons from the numbered kingdoms kept their distance from her as diligently as they kept it from him. They were wary of her.
Why?
He stepped into the square.
Her laughter died on painted red lips and her face instantly sobered, her eyes leaping straight to him. They narrowed. The males below her all turned his way. Not demons. They were a mixture of fae and shifters if their appearances were anything to go by.
The demoness calmly set her tankard down on the stone ledge beside her, hopped off it and landed on her feet. The males stepped aside and she stalked towards him, the crowd parting for her and revealing her to him. She didn’t take her eyes off him, not even to acknowledge the males who wolf-whistled or called out lewd things to her.
Those males’ eyes followed her as she sashayed, swinging her curvy hips.
Temptress.
Her ways wouldn’t work on him though.
He stood his ground as she approached and resisted the urge to call his blade. Covert. Causing a scene in the fae town might cause his target to bolt if she was near or heard about the fight. As much as he wanted to cut the demoness down, he had to remain calm and in control.
She stopped right in front of him, tipped her head up and flashed him a smile that made her ethereally blue eyes shine brightly amidst the sea of black she had daubed around them.
“What’s an angel doing here?” she said in English and looked him up and down.
Her smile grew a little wider when his right hand twitched at his side, eager to call his blade, a reaction he hadn’t been able to hide.
She could see through him.
He had never met a demon who could tell he was an angel before. His wings were hidden, his clothing of mortal fashion, but she knew what he was.
He had a flash of her looking right at him the moment he had entered the square.
Entered the vicinity of her senses.
She had felt him.
“What I am doing here is none of your business.” He schooled his features, hiding his curiosity from her and the slow trickle of other emotions. Not fear. He did not fear her. “I should ask you the same thing, Demon.”
“Ah, but I asked first.” She twirled the gold-to-crimson streak down the right side of her hair around her slender fingers and shrugged her bare shoulders. He refused to look at them. He would not be tempted. Her smile widened. “So… what are you doing here?”
Irritating and persistent, two things guaranteed to make him strongly consider ending her. He never had liked being questioned.
She stepped a little closer, tilted her chin up to keep her blue eyes locked on his, and he barely resisted the urge to shove her away. Her tongue poked out and she caressed the tip across her red lips as she assessed him again, slower this time, those dazzling eyes lingering on places they shouldn’t. His right hand twitched again. Her smile returned.
“Not the talking type?” she murmured and sidled closer, until her darkness wrapped around him, making his skin crawl, and he was on the verge of snapping. She canted her head, twisted that coloured length of silken hair around her index finger again, and dared to run another appraising glance over him. “You are a little tempting… and I would probably bang you… but you’re just oozing goodness and I might vomit.”
He backed away a step and scowled at her. Infuriating demoness.
“I would never touch you,” he bit out and her smile only widened, as if he had flirted right back at her rather than turned her down.
She sighed dramatically. Twirled that infernal stripe in her hair again, drawing his eyes to her hands and her black claws. They jumped from there to her horns.
“Like what you see?” she whispered huskily. “They would feel fucking amazing rubbed against that.”
She ghosted a finger up and down in front of him, gesturing to his body.
“Although, I bet that would also feel fucking amazing under my hands.” She wriggled her fingers and edged them towards him.
He flashed his teeth at her and backed off another step. “Dare… demoness… and I will cleave your head from your body before your hands could even reach me.”
She shrugged again. “Your loss. I’m amazing in the sack.”
What was with this female? Was she trying to rile him?
He realised that she was doing a damn fine job of it. He was playing right into her hands. He set his jaw and glared down at her, and her smile went a little wider.
“That’s more like it. Give me the evil eye. For a moment back there, when I was with my guys, I had an inkling you were trying to look up my skirt or something, and it was a little icky so I thought I would see to it you got your dick on straight and remembered your position… the one that is not under me.” She folded her arms across her chest, causing her breasts to squeeze together in her short black leather corset, and cocked her right hip. Crimson tipped black swirls snaked over that hip, emerging from beneath her pleated skirt to dance across her toned stomach, and his eyes caught on them, followed them down. They covered her entire right leg, visible beneath her sheer black stockings. She huffed and threw her hands up in the air. “And he’s staring again. Like what you see? Want a picture for your spank bank?”
Dear lord, what was wrong with him?
He took another step back, fixed his eyes firmly on her face and shoved any curiosity about her tattoo away. His right hand twitched again. She noticed it.
“You want to go at it? You’re gonna have to pick what it’s going to be though… fighting or fucking?”
“Neither,” he bit out and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets to stop him from calling his blade. “Leave my sight, Demon.”
“I was here first. You leave mine.” She turned and waved a hand across the air. “This whole town is mine… so get out. Shoo.”
She turned back towards him, an expectant look on her face.
“I said shoo.”
He shook his head. “I said no.”
She canted her head again, and when she spoke, the venom and other disturbing thing that had been in her voice was gone, leaving it sober, and laced with curiosity. “Why are you here?”
“It is none of your business.” He went to turn away from her. She reached for him and he whirled on her, his right hand rising to slap her one away, and she staggered back, blinking hard. It seemed the powerful little demoness wasn’t as fearless as she pretended to be. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Why are you here?”
She backed off a step and scowled at him. “I’ve had enough of angels looking at me like that over the past two days… as if they want to nail my entrails on their wall like art… one far stronger than you… so do not think for a second that you can intimidate me.”
But he had.
He did.
He intimidated her and she had done a good job of concealing it, but then her mask had slipped and she had revealed her fear to him.
He frowned at what she had said.
An angel far stronger than him.
The Devil?
She preened her small black horns with trembling fingers, stroking them from the root behind the pointed tips of her ears to the sharp ends near her lobes, and her obvious attempt to calm herself failed. Her face blackened.
She swept her right hand through the air between them and glared at him, her eyes growing black and pupils becoming elliptical and beginning to burn gold.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what business you have here but you better stay out of my way.” She flashed vicious fangs at him, turned on her heel and stormed away.
He watched her go, cocked his head to his right as he tried to make sense of her. He had felt her darkness, she oozed it the same way as he apparently oozed goodness, and yes, it made him want to vomit too, but there was something different about her.
Something off.
