Unchained

Chapter Three

“You knocked him out cold, Lily. Damn.”

She spared a wondrous smile for Luke. “He was going to shoot me.”

He frowned, glancing back at the softly snoring man sprawled across the bed tucked away in the Sanctuary. “I thought he was going to arrest you.”

“That was after he was going to shoot me,” she corrected.

His handsome face soured as he turned back to her. “I don’t think I like him.”

Ah, there was that dangerous undertone. Luke saw her as the little sister he probably never wanted. Hell, she grew up idolizing him while he spent time showing her the ropes. She still idolized him even when it was widely known that her skill surpassed his. Still, whenever anything seriously threatened her—which wasn’t often—his boyish charm and easy nature would disappear. Luke could be downright murderous when provoked, especially after Anna.

Wincing at the thought of the beautiful Nephilim Luke had most definitely loved, she patted his heavily muscled arm. “Nah, I don’t think he would have seriously shot me.”

That did nothing to erase the scowl. “Better wake up soon.”

Lily glanced back at the officer, reading his name tag. Officer M. Con? “I bet his first name is Michael.”

He snorted. “That’s what we call irony if so.”

The Archangel Michael, the patron saint of police officers, was probably rolling his eyes somewhere up there or having a chuckle. Or he was sharpening his righteous blade and taking aim at this young man’s neck. Archangels didn’t look too kindly on the Nephilim, although they fought on the same side of the big guy upstairs. Well, most of the time.

“He’s still out?”

They looked up as Remy entered the room with a broad smile spread across the deep chocolate hue of his face. His ropy dreads were tucked back. He cuffed Lily on the shoulder. “Damn, girl, always something.”

She shrugged dainty shoulders, glancing back at the officer. He’d been out since the moment he’d hit the ground. He hadn’t even made a sound as Remy and Luke carried him back to the Sanctuary. Her gaze flickered over her unblemished knuckles. Damn, I’m good.

He had to be young. Maybe late twenties. Kind of hot, too. All of the male Nephilim were attractive. They got good looks courtesy of their fathers.

This one had dark auburn hair and it was cropped short, a style favored by most police officers. At rest, his face held the youthful, innocent quality that alone proved he had no idea what he was. All Nephilim had a hardness about them, even her. The curve of his jaw was strong, and his cheeks chiseled. Thick lashes fanned those cheeks. He had the face of an angel.

Remy folded his arms across his broad chest as he inspected their newly acquired Nephilim. “Damn, can’t say I’m not surprised you knocked out another police officer.”

She winced.

Luke stood beside Remy. Immediately, she shifted to the other side of the bed. She hated when they towered over her. The boys’ height was a characteristic of their kind that Lily had missed out on. All male Nephilim were well over six feet and counting, practically giants, while she was small enough to be thrown on their backs like a backpack.

“Do you really think he’s Nephilim?” Luke directed toward Remy.

Lily sighed. “Touch him and find out.”

“How could a Nephilim make it this long and not know what he is?” Luke asked. “Better yet, not get swayed by the Fallen?”

“How would I know? Go ahead and touch him,” she urged. “You’ll know.” Both Luke and Remy appeared doubtful. “Just touch him and get it over with.”

Remy sneered. “God, not when you say it like that.”

Lily flipped him off.

Muttering under his breath, Luke leaned over the man and slowly placed his hand against the guy’s forehead. Luke shot back as if jolted—a fine zap of electricity that fired when coming into contact with another Nephilim. “Damn it.”

She rocked back on her heels, grinning. “I told you he’s Nephilim.”

Remy shook his head in wonder. “Wow, he is one lucky SOB, then, that you knocked his lights out.”

Her smile grew to ridiculous proportions. She loved to be complimented. It was so few and far between these—

“Lillian Marks! Get your ass in here right now!”

Lily jumped, eyes widening. Two floors separating them and Nathaniel was that loud. Luke snickered, and she shot him a dirty look. “Thanks,” she muttered.

Remy at least had the decency to give her warning. “Nathaniel is pissed. You have no idea how many favors he had to call in tonight.”

Her shoulders slumped as she moved around the bed slowly. Luke patted her on top of the head when she passed. She swung at him, but he darted out of the way, laughing. “I hate you both.”

Remy shuffled closer to the bed as she headed to the door. “Do you know how hard it will be to train him at this age?”

She stopped in the doorway. It would be damn near impossible. They couldn’t train him. It was too late. The best thing they could do is put him back in the cruiser and wish for the best. Cruel, but there was no way Officer Prettypants could do his job and live through the night.

But it was not her problem.

Lily walked down the dimly lit corridor of level five, a housing unit five floors underground the Sanctuary office building. Buried so deep under the third tallest building in DC, no one made it to this level uninvited. Taking the elevator, she descended to level seven where Nathaniel kept his real office and living quarters.

Nathaniel sat behind a large oval desk finished in a cherry stain that was polished to the point she could see her reflection in it. Lily was well familiar with that. She spent a lot of time staring at her own face in his desk as she was lectured over the latest stunt she’d pulled—or Julian, especially over him. He’d become quite the main theme of her most recent lectures.

She stumbled. She never stumbled. Unless it was about her not-so-angelic stalker Julian, and when it was, everything went to Hell.

Nathaniel set his phone down quietly, motioning her into his office. “Sit.”

It was like she was thirteen again, and she sat awkwardly, folding her hands in her lap like some misbehaving child. She was a full-grown woman who could take down an entire room of minions without breaking a single nail, but none of that mattered when she sat in front of Nathaniel.

He had this look when he was upset with her. It usually started with him absently brushing back his brown hair, then tucking the longer strands behind his ears. His lips would turn down, and he would pierce her with those pale blue eyes. Then fine lines would form around them, marring his otherwise youthful face.

She had no idea how old he was. No one she knew did.

He had to be at least several hundred years old, though he looked about thirty. The same as he had the night he’d pulled her, shrieking and crying, away from her mother’s corpse. She had been five.

“Lily.”

She squirmed. “Nathaniel.”

“First off, what the hell are you wearing?”

Surprised, she glanced down at herself. She was wearing the same thing she’d had on earlier. “Huh?”

“You’re out hunting in a skirt that barely covers your ass,” he remarked.

She bristled even though her cheeks flamed. “Excuse me, fashion police, I didn’t realize I needed your permission on what I could wear.”

He sighed wearily. “I’m only looking out for you.”

“I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”

“That may be, but we’ve got a mess here.” He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lily, you know things are heating up. The Fallen are corrupting more and more of the Nephilim. We are losing an increasing number of souls to them, and that means countless innocent people.”

Boy did she know. The Fallen were snatching up the young Nephilim before the Sanctuary could get them safely tucked away. Once the Fallen had them, they were lost. Corrupt as the angels that had fathered them. Those Nephilim turned minion and became the very thing their kind was supposed to hunt.

“The last thing we need is to be exposed.”

Lily shifted, the leather creaking under her slight weight. “I know.”

“Do you even know how many favors I had to call in? Danyal put his neck on the line so no one would question why that young man didn’t come off his shift.”

She fidgeted in the seat. Danyal had enmeshed himself deep within the police department just in case they needed someone in times like these. But favors were always few and hard to cover up.

“I taught you to strike and get the hell out. It’s as simple as that.”

Her lips pursed. That had been the plan, but her temper had gotten the best of her.

“You need to be more careful,” he said quietly.

What he hadn’t said hung in the air between them. She knew he was remembering Anna and what had happened to her. Damn it, she missed her friend fiercely. Anna and Lily had had a tight relationship. She’d been older than Lily, accepting the Contract decades ago. But Anna had first lost her heart and then her head to one of the Fallen.

Foolish, beautiful Anna.

There were so few female Nephilim. Most children were born male, but every few decades a female half-breed would surface. Besides Michelle, who’d been reassigned to New York, Anna had been the only other female hunter in the DC section.

The pain of her loss still reverberated through the halls of the Sanctuary, and no two people were more affected by it than Nathaniel and Luke. They had seen her death as their own personal failure. Lily knew Nathaniel took full blame, believing he hadn’t trained her well enough. Part of her knew Luke agreed with him. The last six weeks had been tough, and the tension between the two males had only grown.

Nathaniel unfolded his arms, letting out a world-weary sigh. “The good thing about this is that we got him instead of the Fallen. I have no idea how he made it this long, but he’ll have the right training now and be able to step fully into his destiny.”

“What?” She shot from the chair.

“Lily,” he warned.

“We can’t train him. He’s too old.”

Nathaniel frowned. “He looked about thirty.”

“Yes! Thirty years of absolutely no knowledge of the Nephilim or the Fallen!”

He raised a brow. “You’re younger than him.”

She sputtered. “I’ve had years of training, and I’ve accepted the Contract. We cannot train him with everything that is going on!”

“We’ll find a way.” He stopped, glancing up. “Better yet, you’ll find a way.”

She was about two seconds from grabbing her hair and pulling. “You’re kidding.”

He smiled. “No.”

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t train anyone. You know I don’t have any patience. I’m better as a hunter.”

“Lily, you’re great as a hunter. You’re one of the best. Hell, you are probably the best,” he admitted. “But this is an order I’m giving you.”

Her hands fell uselessly to her sides. He rarely ordered her to do anything. She knew there was no point in arguing.

“Don’t sulk.” He stood and headed around the desk.

She noticed then that his clothes were wrinkled. Guilt gnawed at her insides. Here she was, adding to his enormous pile of things to worry over. “You haven’t slept have you?”

He paused, looking down at himself. “Is it that obvious?”

She nodded. Frankly, she’d seen him worse, but there was a weariness that clung to his skin. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He leaned against the desk, stretching his long legs, appearing to choose his words wisely. “I’m afraid someone is betraying us.”

She gaped. Okay, she knew it was bad. She just hadn’t expected it to be that bad. “What do you mean?”

He pushed away from the desk and went to the large cabinet that took up the entire side of the wall. She followed his movements. Curious, she waited quietly.

“Someone is feeding the Fallen a list of every Nephilim we are aware of. I also think the same person is actively seeking ones we have yet to relocate.” He ran his hand over the wood. “With this knowledge, they will quickly outnumber us by the hundreds. It’s sheer numbers. They take more souls and infect more humans.”

And there were so many souls nowadays. Those who perished unexpectedly were vulnerable to persuasion. Those poor souls clung to any hope of life, even the false hope minions provided them.

They invaded the bodies of the living, truly believing it was a second chance at life. But once their soul mingled with the host, things went downhill fast. The human became a deadhead—the human souls withering away for them both.

“With the Fallen operating behind the scenes, where we can’t reach them, we’re left cleaning up their mess time after time.”

She looked up. “Do you know who it is?”

He faced her. “That’s what’s been keeping me up at night.”

She inclined her head. “Do the Powers That Be know?” That’s what she called the angels and whoever else ran this show.

“They haven’t talked to me in a long time.”

That gave her pause. Nathaniel was the Nephilim’s only connection to the Powers That Be who called the shots from their lofty position. She always imagined them perched on a cloud full of morals and pomp, stringing their golden harps while staring at their beautiful reflections.

Lily didn’t like angels, especially their politics.

They viewed her kind as an abomination that had, unfortunately, become necessary. If they were ever successful in eradicating the Fallen and their legions, the Nephilim would be next on their heavenly hit list.

“Well crap,” she muttered.

Nathaniel chuckled. “Exactly. Don’t mention any of what I’ve shared with you about my suspicions. Only the circle is aware of the issue. I want it to stay that way.”

The circle consisted of the oldest and most skilled Nephilim in each chapter of the Sanctuary. They were in charge of various things such as disciplinary issues, the most secretive of missions, and the occasional social event that required their participation.

In the DC chapter, it was Nathaniel and Luke, Remy, and about nine other Nephilim. Then there was Lily. She was by far the youngest, but the most skilled. She had a habit of reminding them of that.

“Of course,” she agreed.

“Just keep your ear to the ground for me and report anything that seems odd. Now get back to the cop and make sure you brief him on what he is. You will meet resistance, but try to have patience.”

She arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond.

“Use Remy and Luke for all you need. I trust them. You can also reach out to Rafe.” He flashed a weak smile. “Keep Michael out of the school. I don’t want the young ones to freak him out. You know how they can be.”

Lily smiled at that. The school housed young Nephilim anywhere from five to eighteen. The teenagers were by far the worst, and the youngest ones just hadn’t developed a self-censor system yet. She kind of liked them for that.

Nathaniel smiled fondly at the auburn head that didn’t even reach his chest. “Lily?”

“Yes?”

“Be nice. And, God, please don’t kill him.”

“No promises.”

She left the room and made her way back to level five, deciding she’d gotten off light this time. Her ass had been chewed off far worse than that in the past. Pulling from a seemingly endless supply of energy, she bounded up the stairs.

…

Cory Roberts hurried across the manicured lawn, breathing a sigh of relief when he spotted the senator’s limousine in its designated spot. It was past midnight, and all he wanted was to be home in bed with his wife.

Tomorrow would be jam-packed with meetings, tedious conference calls, a baby or two to be kissed on the cheek, and the senator’s latest scandal to be dealt with.

He juggled the stack of folders in one arm, barely retaining his limp grasp on his coffee. This was why he was losing sleep. Caffeine at midnight and another dose at the crack of dawn was a wretched combination for his heart.

Middle-aged and already balding, with high blood pressure and a sinking suspicion he was developing an ulcer, Cory had had a shitty day. The wire-frame glasses slipped down his nose. This latest affair would surely be the senator’s undoing. There was no way they could cover this up, and the senator’s bitch of a wife was already booking the early-morning talk shows.

The senator couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and that dick was going to get them all in the unemployment line. Without this job, Cory would lose everything: the money, the illusion of power, the house his wife loved, and even his wife.

He would give his soul for this whole mess to disappear.

The driver stepped forward, opening the door. Cory spared him a tight smile and slid in. Clutching the folders and coffee to his chest, he glanced across the seat, expecting the senator or, at the very least, his whore of a secretary.

The coffee slipped from his fingers.

Cory loved his wife of ten years—had always loved women. He never questioned his sexuality until that moment. It shattered his world.

The man was painstakingly beautiful. Darkly exquisite in a way that bordered on the odd. His face was perfect, and the blue of his eyes promised bliss. Cory reacted to him in a way only his wife had been able to provoke from him. He struggled for air, unable to escape the man’s scent and the faint smell of sulfur.

The man’s full lips curved into a slight smile, as if he knew his effect. His brilliant gaze flickered over the spilled coffee, then back to Cory. “Hello, Mr. Roberts.”

At the sound of the stranger’s voice, Cory’s head splintered with pain. He wanted to sob and he wanted to run, but he couldn’t move.

“You may call me Asmodeus, and I’m here to do you a favor.”

Cory started to respond, but his heart seized. Files toppled to the floor as he clutched his chest, wide-eyed and wheezing. He stared up at the man, inherently knowing he had brought this sudden pain on.

Asmodeus’s smile grew. “I can make the senator’s scandal go away. You can keep your job, the fancy house on the hill…and your wife.”

Cory gasped as the air in his lungs expelled painfully. “What…are you?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “All you have to do is return the favor to me. There’s someone that…I need.”