Wicked Kiss

When it was time for bed, my mother showed Cassandra the upstairs guest room where she’d be staying.

“Thank you, it’s perfect,” Cassandra said, putting a hand on her arm. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about this all night, Eleanor. I’d like you to do something for me.”

“What?”

She gazed into my mother’s eyes. “I think you should go on vacation somewhere really nice. You can leave tomorrow morning. Any work you have can wait until you get back. Do you understand?”

I gaped at her, stunned silent that she was using angelic influence on my mother again.

“Yes, I understand.” My mother nodded. “My goodness, a vacation. What a wonderful idea! It’s been so long—I don’t think I can even remember the last vacation I took. I think it was Florida, four years ago. Remember that, Sam?”

“I...uh, remember. But...are you sure this is a good idea? A vacation right now?”

“No, it’s not a good idea.” She stroked her honey-blond hair back from her face. Her eyes sparkled. “It’s a great idea! I’m going to Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ll take a surfing lesson...and lie on the beach and read a book. Thank you, Cassandra. Such a wonderful suggestion. Will you be all right here without me?”

Cassandra nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to go pack!” My mother kissed me on my cheek, then hurried off in the direction of her bedroom. I waited for her door to close before I spun around to face the angel.

“Just who do you think you are?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“You think you can just influence people to do whatever you want them to do? Like it’s nothing?” Every decision that had been made, taken out of my hands, forced upon me—this was the final straw. I wasn’t just going to smile and nod and try to be easy to get along with so nobody saw me as a threat. This was totally unacceptable.

She looked at me as if confused by my reaction. “It’s better this way. Having her here puts her in danger. You must realize that, don’t you?”

Of course I realized that. I wasn’t stupid. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just...not cool,” I sputtered. “You’re new around here—a guest! And this is my house...and my mother! You don’t get to make the rules!” I turned away and went to my room, slamming the door behind me.

Immediately, I felt like a petulant child who’d just thrown a temper tantrum. But I couldn’t help it. I tried to be on my best behavior and fit in, to not make any trouble, even when my life was falling apart. But she’d pushed me too far.

Cassandra had succeeded in making me feel utterly powerless. And that, in turn, made me realize I had no control over anything in my life.

I sank to the floor next to my bed and pulled my knees close to my chest. The three full plates of Chinese food I’d eaten sat heavily in my stomach, threatening to come back up.

Cassandra pushed open my bedroom door a couple minutes later. It wasn’t a big surprise that she didn’t knock first.

I looked up at her, guarded. “What do you want now?”

She pressed her hand against the door frame and looked awkward about coming all the way into my room. Again, her assessing gaze swept over my furniture, my vanity, my discarded clothes that hadn’t hit the hamper. I might get straight As, but I wasn’t what anyone would describe as the neatest person in the world.

“It’s been a difficult evening,” she said. “For you, for me. For all of us. I also sensed a dynamic between you and the other members of the team that perhaps I’ve disrupted in some way.”

I stared up at her, trying to process the strange way she spoke. “You’re a bit of a Vulcan, aren’t you?”

She looked confused. “A...what?”

“A Vulcan. It’s a Star Trek thing. Emotionless aliens who like to talk very proper.”

Her frown deepened. “I’m not an alien. I’m an angel.”

I sighed. “An angel who’s never had a chicken ball before.”

“Which was delicious. And the red dippable goo they came with?” She beamed. “Amazing.”

“If you say so.”

She came all the way into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. She looked at me very seriously. “I know you don’t like me.”

“I never said that.” Not in front of her, anyway.

Her shoulders sank. “That gray this evening. He hurt me...and he hurt you. I thought I could handle it, but he defeated me easily. Too easily.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Grays aren’t normally like that. He was a total freak of nature.” One that scared the hell out of me, to say the least. I was glad he was dead and he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

“That demon had to save me.” She shuddered. “And he said I have a nice ass. How crude.”

“That’s Roth.”

“Is he...” Her brows drew together “...as horrible as he seems?”

I was about to agree with that statement wholeheartedly, but then I thought about it. “I don’t know. Demons are supposed to be evil and horrible. I don’t like him. He’s a jerk, but he’s part of the team. He’s doing his thing. And he did save your butt.” I thought about what little I knew about Kraven. “Demons who’ve been humans before...they have stories behind them. They’re not a hundred percent bad. At least, I don’t think they are. I mean, I guess they did some really bad stuff when they were alive in order to become a demon. Right?”

“I’m sure they did.”

I remembered Zach’s story about the good deed with the drowning kid, and that giving him the chance to become an angel. I figured it would be the exact opposite—a bad deed—to become a demon. “It’s bizarre, really. Because, as far as I’m concerned, demons should be totally evil to the core.”

That was one of the things that freaked me out the most. How you couldn’t tell who was a demon and who was an angel. How similar they looked. Only their imprints confirmed what they really were.

“In the beginning,” I continued, “I assumed Bishop was a demon by the way he handled that dagger of his.”

“Yes, he does have a way with the Hallowed Blade.”

My ears perked up at this name. She’d called it that before. “Is that what it’s called?”

She nodded gravely. “All angels of death are assigned one.”

I blinked. “Angel of...what?”

She glanced down at me sprawled on the floor. “Angel of death. Bishop is one of Heaven’s assassins, which is why he’s one of the few officially authorized to carry such a dangerous blade.”

“Oh.” I could barely find my voice.

“Didn’t you know this about him?”

“No. It—it hadn’t come up.” It was a whisper. I couldn’t manage much more than that. A piece of information like this was enough to knock the breath right out of me.

“That’s why he was chosen to lead this mission. His record shows that he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to—”

“Killing,” I finished for her, feeling sick inside. “The ritual...and dealing with the grays...”

She nodded. “If his departure hadn’t been tampered with, I have no doubt that the grays would all be...” She trailed off and looked at me sheepishly. “Of course, I’m sure an exception would still be made for those who don’t feed and whose souls still exist intact. Somewhere. He wouldn’t have just killed you indiscriminately just because you’re, well...one of them.”

I swallowed hard. “I hope you’re right.”

Bishop’s mission here in Trinity required someone with the right instincts. No hesitation. It had always made my blood turn to ice, seeing him at work. That determined, emotionless expression that came over his face just before the blade met its mark.

I’d known Bishop was dangerous, but...an actual angel of death?

Holy hell.

“I should rest.” Cassandra stood up and moved toward the door. “Tomorrow I need to get a fresh start.”

“Cassandra...” I said, my voice still barely audible. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. What?”

I took a deep breath and looked right at her. “What’s the real reason you were sent here?”

A shaky smile formed on her lips. “I’m here to lend a hand to the team during this difficult mission. Why else? Good night, Samantha.”

“Good night.”

She left, but not before I’d managed to get a small glimpse of her thoughts. It was another one of my newly uncovered talents. I could read a demon or angel’s mind...if they weren’t actively trying to block me. All I had to do was look into their eyes and concentrate hard.

Cassandra lied. She wasn’t here just to help the team. She had her own mission, an entirely separate one.

I really wished I knew what it was.

* * *

It took me hours before I finally drifted off to sleep. My head was a horrific mass of nightmares about evil grays and dead girls, before they finally parted for something much more pleasant.

A dream about Bishop.

He was seated across from me at a small wooden table in the middle of a wasteland—a cracked, dry desert that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was nothing in sight to the horizons all around us. The sky was a flat, pale gray, like a coating of paint.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Good question.” He wore black. Black jeans, black T-shirt. The darkness only made the color of his eyes stand out more—like sapphires.

What Cassandra had told me about his job in Heaven was so far in the distance now I couldn’t remember the details. I knew it had disturbed me, but at the moment it was the last thing on my mind. All I felt was happy. Happy to see him. Happy we were alone—no matter where this was. “I’m dreaming right now, aren’t I?”

“You are.” He smiled—an easy smile that made my heart do an automatic flip.

“So this isn’t real? Not some sort of mind meld?”

“No. Just a dream. Your dream.”

I looked down at myself to see I wore a fancy red dress, gauzy and big and silky, like a ball gown. I’d never worn anything so extravagant in my entire life.

“You’re beautiful,” Bishop said.

My gaze snapped to his. “It’s just the dress. It’s not me.”

“You’re wrong. It is you.” There was something in his eyes that made me believe he meant it. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“You can kiss me here.” If this was just a dream, then nothing I said or did counted. I liked the idea of that—total freedom. “Normally in my dreams...we do more than just kiss.”

His brows went up. “Really.”

I nodded, fighting a smile.

“You want to do more than just kiss me, Samantha?”

“Maybe I do.” My heart pounded. The endless bravery I normally had in my dreams seemed to be escaping like sand sliding through my fingers. “But there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“There’s a severe balance of power missing in this...whatever this is between us. I know hardly anything about you. You know everything about me. I have no power over you at all.”

“Wrong. You took part of my soul. You know I’m drawn to you like nothing I can control, which is why I’ve tried—and failed—to stay away. Even when I do keep my distance you can still see through my eyes whenever you want to.”

This was another little skill I had. After I’d kissed Bishop and taken part of his soul, there were the odd times I got flashes of what he saw—even if we were nowhere close to each other. I couldn’t read his mind or feel his emotions, but I could see through his eyes.

“It’s not whenever I want to,” I said. “It’s totally random.”

“You underestimate yourself. Your power. But I’m not surprised. This game has barely begun.”

“Game?” I frowned. But then my gaze moved to the table between us. I hadn’t even noticed what was on it before. It was a chess board with white and black pieces. “Are we playing a game?”

“We seem to be.”

The pieces were already in play, not all lined up at the edges. Bishop was playing the white pieces, and I was playing the black ones. He’d already taken one of my pawns. “But I don’t even know how to play chess.”

“Then you need to learn. And you need to learn fast.”

The next moment, he stood up and swept the board off the table. The pieces went flying in every direction.

I got to my feet, alarmed. “Bishop, what are you—?”

He didn’t let me finish my sentence. He grabbed the front of my dress and pulled me toward him, crushing his mouth against mine.

My thoughts fell away as he kissed me—and I kissed him back. Now this was more like my normal dreams about Bishop. Passionate, reckless, total abandon. Incredible.

No hunger to ruin the moment. No ravenous need to devour his soul.

Just his lips against mine with no consequences. No punishment. Only pleasure.

When our lips finally parted and I opened my eyes, there was a coldness in his gaze that betrayed the scorching heat of the kiss.

Cold as ice. It was the look he normally got just before he—

I gasped as he sliced the dagger into my chest. I scrambled back from him, collapsing to the ground. Grasping for the hilt, I pulled it out with a pained cry. My blood was difficult to see against the red dress, but it flowed, pulsing out with every beat of my heart.

I gasped for breath. “I trusted you.”

“No, you didn’t.” He stared down at me sprawled on the cracked, dry ground. His dark brows were drawn tightly together. “You never did.”

I fell all the way backward, struggling to keep breathing. All I could manage was a small shriek when Cassandra appeared behind Bishop. He didn’t see her.

He didn’t see the golden dagger in her hand.

She slashed it across his throat in one smooth, violent motion. His hands flew to the wound as the blood began to gush. A moment later, he fell to my side.

The roaring vortex of the Hollow opened up—even here. It was the last thing I saw before I died.

And the last thing I felt was Bishop grasping hold of my hand.

* * *

I woke up, gasping for breath. My sheets were soaked with sweat. I felt the strong urge to bolt from my bed and start running as fast as I could somewhere, anywhere. But I forced myself to stay right where I was.

Bishop was an angel of death. One of Heaven’s assassins.

Cassandra hadn’t been lying when she’d told me this. I believed her. This piece of the puzzle fit really well, even if it revealed a terrifying picture.

He’d killed me in my dream tonight.

It was what I feared would happen in reality, no matter how much I tried to deny it, even to myself.

But I was different. Bishop and me—we were connected on a deeper level. Even though I didn’t know anything about his life before he became an angel, or his life as an angel, I had to trust my gut when it came to him. And my heart.

Because I did trust him.

Heart and gut didn’t lie—at least, not at the same time.

They didn’t.

Chapter 8

I might be seventeen years old, but watching my mother leave for the airport in a taxi still made me choke up like a little kid.

“Call me if there are any problems.” She gave me a big hug in the driveway. I clung tight to her before finally letting go. “I’m sure you and Cassandra will be fine here without me, but no parties, okay?”

I just nodded, my throat tight.

I hadn’t said a word to try to stop her. Even though I hated how Cassandra had magically coerced her to leave town, I knew it was for the best. She’d be safer away from here for a week. And she was so excited about the trip, how could I spoil it for her?

There had always been something stopping her from taking this dream vacation. A husband who didn’t like to travel (unless it was permanent, and in the direction of his new girlfriend), a kid who always had anxiety attacks on airplanes (that was me—I hate being trapped in small spaces, especially three miles above the ground), and then a job that barely allowed her any time off.

So I was happy for her. Really.

But standing there, watching the taxi drive away down the street, the realization that I was really alone sank in deep. Even though we didn’t always get along so well, she represented my normal life. And soon she’d be five thousand miles away.

“I need to go,” Cassandra told me after I went back inside, out of the cold, and ate a big breakfast of eggs, toast and Pop-Tarts. She gleefully had some cold Chinese food and more red goo.

She wore clothes she’d borrowed from me this morning. Just because an angel arrived ready to do her mission—whatever that mission really was—didn’t mean she packed a bag. Even though she was a few inches taller than me, and had a bigger chest, my clothes looked good on her. It was annoying how good they looked, really.

“To the church?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll come with you.” I had to get out of here. I couldn’t keep dwelling on what was wrong with my life—I had to do something to fix it. Also, I needed to see Bishop. I wanted to ask him about what Cassandra told me—him being an angel of death. I wanted to know why he’d never told me this before. Maybe that could help stop nightmares like the one last night.

“No, I think it’s best that you stay here.” She put her dishes in the sink. “Let the professionals handle this problem.”

I blanched. “You think I’d get in the way?”

“I just think it would be safer if you stayed here. Take the day to rest and reflect. I’ll let you know if we learn anything.”

“Rest and reflect?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

“Exactly. Have a lovely day.” Without another word she was gone, out the front door. I watched through the kitchen window as she walked down the driveway and disappeared around the corner.

Rest and reflect? Seriously?

Needless to say, there was very little resting. Lots of reflecting, though, as I thought and overthought everything over the next couple of hours.

Even without being around anyone to trigger my hunger, I still felt it pushing in at the edges, gnawing on my control like a dog with a bone. Taking part of Colin’s soul last night had barely satisfied me for a couple hours.

It scared me—especially with too much time to think and nobody around to distract me.

I flipped through the newspaper only to see another article about two more mysterious deaths in the city. Police were stumped. There was no cause of death that could be determined, no sign of murder or disease. It was as if the victims had just stopped living. The only clue that the deaths were connected was the strange black lines around their mouths.

I forced myself to stop reading the article and flipped to another about three teens who’d committed suicide on Friday night. They didn’t go to my school and I didn’t recognize the names, but it also sent a chill through me.

There was no good news in Trinity to be found today, it would seem. It wasn’t just me who was in trouble in this city. Everybody—even those not touched by the supernatural—was at risk.

Studying was my strong point. It got me good grades. It should be able to help me get the answers I needed to help myself and other people at risk right now. I went on the internet and searched for more information about nexi, the spawn of angels and demons.

I found nothing helpful. At all.

After a full half hour of staring at the screen, a scream of frustration rose in my throat, but I forced it back down and tried to think rationally. Who my birth parents were was something I had no control over. I needed to refocus my energy and attention on what I could control: my goal of finding Stephen and retrieving my soul. I’d deal with what it meant to be a nexus after I did everything I could to fix my immediate problems, lose my hunger and have the chance to be close to Bishop (or anyone else, for that matter) without...difficulties.

I grabbed the landline to call Stephen’s house, which was only two doors down from my own. My cell phone had taken up permanent residence in my nightstand drawer. Grays had a weird supernatural vibe that messed with the signal and made phones like that completely useless to me.

His mother picked up. I shakily asked if she’d heard from him lately and where he might be. She had no information for me—and yet again, she said she was sorry. This wasn’t the first call I’d made to the Keyes residence in the last week. I’m sure his mother thought I was obsessed with her son. I was. But not for the reason she might think.

Discouraged, I hung up after saying a hurried goodbye. I stood in the center of my bedroom, my fists clenched at my sides, feeling utterly helpless and alone.

I hated feeling that I had no control over my life anymore.

Cassandra told me to stay home and let the “professionals” handle this. Well, I’d decided I wholeheartedly disagreed. I would go to the church and get my answers, even if it was just to grill Bishop about his mysterious past.

Just as I’d pulled my coat on and started for the front door, the phone rang. I almost ignored it, but something drove me to pick it up.

I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Samantha.”

I froze. He’d only said my name, but I knew the voice. My grip on the receiver tightened. “Stephen?”

“I need to talk to you.”

My words tripped over themselves in a hurry to escape my mouth. “Where’s my soul? Where’s Carly’s soul?”

“I have to see you in person.” There was a short hesitation. “Look, I know you hate me...”

I had to slump down in the nearest chair since my legs gave out. “I just want to be normal again.” The words bubbled up my throat before I could hold them back. I knew very well that it couldn’t ever happen. Even if I wasn’t a gray, being the secret daughter of an angel and a demon had made me abnormal from the day I was born. It didn’t matter that I’d only recently learned the truth.

“Meet me at the Trinity Mall,” he said. “On the fourth floor by the railing. It’s busy there today so you don’t have to worry about me doing anything threatening, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

I stood up and pressed my back against the wall for support. “Everything about you is threatening, Stephen.”

“Don’t bring one of your new friends.”

“Why wouldn’t I bring all of them? You’re the bad guy here, remember?”

“I’m not as bad as you might think. We’re the same. We should be on the same side.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “I’m on my own side. Nobody else’s.”

“Then you should want all the information you can get about what’s to come. Meet me there in an hour.”

He hung up.

I stared at the phone before I finally placed it back on its base.

I’d been searching for him for a week and had come up with nothing but air. If Stephen didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be found. But now he wanted to talk to me.

On his terms.

My first instinct was to find Bishop, but if Stephen saw him with me I knew he’d leave and I’d never see him again.

I had to get my soul back on my own. Put the lid back on this box and keep it there. Then I’d be able to leave the city again, get past the barrier. Other people’s souls—including Bishop’s—wouldn’t drive me crazy with hunger. Everything would be better.

I could still fix this.

* * *

The Trinity Mall. Not my favorite place in the city.

Over three hundred stores on four levels, it was a shopping mall slash tourist destination. Trinity was huge enough to have a few malls, but this was the crown jewel right in the heart of downtown. I used to love coming here with Carly, shopping for hours on end, and having lunch in the food court downstairs, back when we both had regular-size appetites. We’d still gorge on the food—hamburgers, Chinese food, souvlaki, French fries, you name it. She’d complain about her slow metabolism and grumble about how I never gained a pound. I’d tell her she looked fine—because she always did whether she realized it or not. I should have told her how much I envied her curves.

But then I ran into some trouble here. After my parents’ divorce was finalized six months ago, I went on a bit of a shoplifting spree. Or, as my guidance counselor put it, “a cry for attention.”

It was never much, just enough to give me a rush of excitement that I was getting away with something. That I wasn’t being perfect, or good, or coloring inside the lines like everyone had told me to all my life. Instead of focusing on being a perfect student and getting all As, I got a lipstick. A scarf. A leather wallet. I knew it was wrong even as I shoved them in my pocket or under my shirt. I didn’t try to justify it as something I needed that I couldn’t afford. I could afford it. My father felt enough guilt over the divorce and his move across the ocean that my monthly allowance, written on checks with his gold-stamped law firm logo in the corner, were so big I didn’t even need to apply for part-time jobs. I mean, I couldn’t buy a car or anything major, but for the necessities of life, I could get what I needed.