Ashes of Angels. Michele Hauf

a muse—an object that an angel seeks to use—then you’ve lost the battle. You’re more than that. You are strong. You’ve trained for this!

      “Listen, Cassandra.” He lifted her by the elbow to stand straight and she met his eyes. It was peaceful there. His voice soothed her too sweetly for a man she should fear. “The word is agothé. Try it.”

       “Agothé.”

      As if struck by an invisible force, the angel was slammed against the kitchen wall, his arms pinned out and his feet dangling above the cement floor. His bare chest, impossibly strapped with muscles of steel, heaved.

      He smiled. “See?”

      “How long does that work for?” She slunk along the counter, backing away from him.

      “Not long.”

      Not long was long enough for her.

      Cassandra raced down the hallway and into her bedroom. Kicking off her wet boots, she grabbed a pair of black wool leggings and slipped them on. Pulling out of a drawer a thick red sweater she knew she was going to need to stay warm, she first put on a tank top, then yanked the sweater over her head and tugged it over her hips.

      Because the angel was right. She couldn’t stick around here any longer. Not now that the Fallen knew it was her home.

      Her computer flickered, and she grabbed the flash drive from the USB port. It was on a nylon lanyard, which she pulled over her head. Next important item was her rosary, which she slipped on next to the lanyard, then thought about it and tucked it under the sweater. Granny had given it to her; she didn’t want to lose it.

      Another Taser from the bedside drawer she fit into her back pocket. The pocket-size Ruger she kept stuffed between the mattresses wasn’t there. The angel must have found it during his swift reconnaissance.

      She ran out of the bedroom and slammed into a solid object. Her palms slapped against hard, muscled flesh. For a moment, she stared at his skin, nicely tanned and stretched like silk over steel. How could a body be so hard? And why did a flash of her tongue tracing between his nipples disturb her thoughts?

      “Told you it only works a short while,” he offered with a wry grin.

      She began to say the word again, but he pressed a palm over her mouth. “It was just for you to try. Hear me out before you turn the word into a Tourette’s tic.”

      She nodded.

      “What’s this?” He grabbed the flash drive and pulled it from the plastic cover.

      “Nothing. Just important papers. Financial stuff, you know. If I’m not returning …”

      Pushing her back into the bedroom, he inserted the USB in the computer drive, and Cassandra was so shocked at the angel’s actions she stumbled to sit on the bed. It was as if he knew her every secret. Or had been given a clue to finding each one. Could their sigils have something to do with that? She just didn’t know.

      She averted her gaze to the silver angel posed on the dresser. The face resembled the live angel poised before the computer. Had she brought him to life by invoking him in silver?

      She caught her head in her palms. The silver rings she wore reminded her of another time she’d tried to invoke danger. Would she never learn?

      The monitor beeped, prompting her attention, and a list flashed on the screen. Sam turned and eyed her. “Financial stuff?”

      “It’s just a list,” she murmured. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

      “A list of all the Fallen ones’ names and … their sigils.” He whistled, impressed. “Honey, you do not want this to fall into vampire hands.”

      “It’s not going to.”

      “No, because I’ll make sure it doesn’t” He dragged the computer file to the trash.

      Cassandra dove for the flash drive and tugged it out. He gripped her wrist. “Agothé!”

      The angel was forced against the wall again, arms spread. He struggled futilely. “Fine! Keep it,” he said. “But you make sure it is erased from the computer and any other copies you have are destroyed. Your home will be searched, I can guarantee it.”

      She thought about it. He seemed to know what was up in this whole war between the vampires, Fallen and muses. Double clicking the trash icon, she emptied it.

      “Where’s the original?” he asked.

      “I burned it after transferring it to the computer.”

      “Don’t lie to me, Cassandra.”

      “I’m not.”

      Okay, so she was, but he didn’t need to know she had the original book and was still in the process of scanning all the pages into digital files. Granny had suggested she be very careful with the last page; it wasn’t to be scanned—ever.

      She made a concerted effort not to look out the bedroom door to the bathroom as she grabbed the Taser and marched out, leaving him pinned to the wall next to her X-Files poster and the angel sculpture.

      He met her in the living room poised casually near the couch, hands on his hips. How did he do that? It was as if he could move at supernatural speed—ah, yes. He had the ability to walk swiftly, hundreds of miles an hour. It is what he’d done to walk the world and gain knowledge. Because he couldn’t fly. Once an angel’s feet touched earth, they lost their divinity, and their.

      Cassandra noticed the object hooked at his hip for the first time. “Your halo?”

      She clamped a palm over her mouth. He had his own halo? But he should have lost that when Falling. It was a powerful weapon in the hands of its owner.

      He tapped the circlet, and it clinked dully. “Found it in the halo hunter’s bag. It is mine.” He stroked the curved blade and it glowed as blue as Cassandra’s sigil had.

      Despite her dread, an innate curiosity nudged to the surface of her mind, and Cassandra leaned toward the marvelous device. “Can I touch it?”

      He snapped it against his chest. “I don’t think so.”

      “Why not? You afraid I can use it? Mortals can’t kill angels.”

      “In theory.”

      Really? Well, that went a ways in answering a few of her questions. Perhaps a mortal could kill an angel; in fact, she knew that one had. He wasn’t about to hand over something she could use as a weapon against him. Smart angel.

      “It holds your earthbound soul,” she stammered. “Why don’t you claim it? Then you don’t have to …” Hurt me, she couldn’t say.

      “Don’t want it. When I’m finished here …” He looked aside, apparently unwilling to complete that statement.

      So the angel had a few secrets of his own. Which meant he wasn’t entirely undefeatable. If the enemy had a secret, it was most certainly his greatest weakness.

      “You ready to rock?”

      “I’m not going anywhere with you. Where is a Sinistari demon when I need one?”

      “You know more than I expected,” he said.

      “What were your expectations? A stupid woman who would swoon at your feet and beg you to take her to bed?”

      He smirked. “I am pleased you are not as you describe. Do you have a spell to summon the Sinistari?”

      “I do.” Cassandra eyed the grimoire, lying open on the black granite kitchen counter.

      The angel took it and the book sparked into flames. He held it until the flames began to lick at his flesh, then dropped it in the sink.

      “Now you don’t. So here’s the plan. We will go after the vampires. Kill them all. That’ll take care