Due to the closure of Noble Romance Publishing, this title is currently not available
Marc Andros saved the life of an angel. Now he's mystically bound to her until she can repay the act in kind. To make things more complicated, he's working for Archangel Michael. Not the kind of guy he thought would end up being his boss back when he was spending his days hunting the demons and angels plaguing the universe. And just because fate hasn't quite finished twisting him up, with the bond in place he and his angel can't be separated by too great a distance before they both experience an excruciating level of pain. They are literally. Stuck. Together.
Charmeine thought being bound to a human and forced to interact with him on a daily basis would be about the most tedious thing that had ever happened to her. But instead she finds herself fascinated by her apparent savior and constant companion. On a mission to retrieve a valuable sacred relic, Charmeine risks her life, drawing on a considerable amount of her supernatural energies to save Marc. That single act drains her powers to the point of turning her human and thrusts her into a position of doubt and uncertainty.
With enemies all over the universe and the demon king stepping up his offensive to systematically wipe out humans, Charmeine doesn't know who to trust. Will Marc help her if he knows the truth, or will he use her mortality against her to find a way out of their mystical bond? It's an impossible situation, and the wrong choice could mean death for both of them.
Charmeine thought being bound to a human and forced to interact with him on a daily basis would be about the most tedious thing that had ever happened to her. But instead she finds herself fascinated by her apparent savior and constant companion. On a mission to retrieve a valuable sacred relic, Charmeine risks her life, drawing on a considerable amount of her supernatural energies to save Marc. That single act drains her powers to the point of turning her human and thrusts her into a position of doubt and uncertainty.
With enemies all over the universe and the demon king stepping up his offensive to systematically wipe out humans, Charmeine doesn't know who to trust. Will Marc help her if he knows the truth, or will he use her mortality against her to find a way out of their mystical bond? It's an impossible situation, and the wrong choice could mean death for both of them.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Trident Quadrant, Ariel Galaxy, Planet X-702
Marc dropped for cover behind the rock face and put his back against the cool, smooth stone. Damn, but things weren't exactly going to plan. He looked over at Drayke beside him.
"We're getting our collective asses kicked," Drayke said and wiped his arm over his forehead. Not that the effort made much of a difference to the thick coating of sweat and grime covering him like a day spa gone wrong.
Marc was trying not to breathe too deeply. The smell of the half-terra-formed world was pretty much vomit inducing. There was no ground beneath them, just a never-ending pit of slimy, rancid mud. And the thick, greasy humidity ensured every putrid odor soaked into his skin. When he got back to the Morose Raider, he'd be locking himself in the shower for at least the next ten hours until he could forget this fetid trench they were crouched in.
"Did you hear me?" Drayke altered his grip on his nucleon rifle and glanced around the boulder. "I thought Michael said this would be a walk in the park, that we'd have the holy spear and be out of here before any angels or demons knew what we were doing. This isn't a park, dude, this is a cesspool. In fact, I'm pretty sure it might be one of the outer layers of hell."
A stray blast of energy streaked over their heads and slammed into a giant tree. Marc ducked as woodchip-sized pieces of the trunk sliced through the air, nicking his exposed skin like angry insects. Shit. If that'd been a direct hit, they'd be vapor right now.
Before the air had even cleared, he pushed to his feet and braced his chest against the even roundness of the boulder, firing a spray of ammo at anything that moved. Beyond the crap-ass shelter he and Drayke had jumped behind a dozen angels faced off with twice that number of demons. For the most part, the supernatural sons of bitches appeared too busy trying to take each other out to notice a few humans scurrying around, especially since the humans' weapons were about as effective on angels and demons as poking them with a stick. Still, as soon as they were done slaughtering each other, Marc suspected the scuz-bastards would come after them next.
With a concentrated round of firing, Marc managed to drop a demon. No doubt the thing would heal and be on its feet again in a matter of moments. Goddamn it. If they had an unlimited supply of Silvan Sloane's magic ammo on hand they could have wiped out every non-human with a few simple shots. Sylvan's old-fashioned guns shot bullets that emitted an electro-magnetic field. The field interrupted a supernatural being's ability to heal. But according to Sloane, the guns were difficult to source and the bullets even harder to make. They had to be careful when and where they used them.
Marc released a long breath and dropped into a crouch. Sweat dripped from his hair, stinging his eyes. "Michael might be an archangel, but he's not all-seeing. He couldn't have known we'd get ambushed by two separate raiding parties."
Drayke arched an eyebrow. "He could have known and sent us anyway."
They both ducked as another energy blast went astray, this time meeting its mark against the ground farther away. A plume of slimy mud splattered everything in sight. Marc grimaced and wiped a few thick splotches off his face. And if the filth wasn't enough, the ebb and flow of pressure in the atmosphere had the weird effect of blocking his ears. "You think Michael set us up?"
"He's an angel. An archangel. The fact he hasn'ttried to kill us before now had me freaked out."
A shimmer of golden, sunlight-like energy wavered in front of them and Marc brought his rifle up. A spurt of anxiety laced with adrenaline pumped through him.
"I could write a treatise on everything that freaks you out, Drayke." Ethan materialized in a crouch, his khaki cargo pants, and gray T-shirt looking unbelievably clean and fresh. Of course, being a scribe angel, Ethan would likely obliterate any dirt stupid enough to get near him.
Relieved, Marc blew out a breath and lowered his gun. He glanced around the rock, willing his heart rate to settle before he had a damn coronary. The angels and demons were still going at it, no clear winner in the brawl. And the burial site of the holy spear was in the middle of all that muck and rain of energy blasts.
"Did you manage to work out the exact location?" Marc turned back to Ethan and Drayke. Right now, the words 'lost' and 'cause' were trying to jam themselves together in his head, stirring up a whole lot of impotent anger. The relics were important because of their mystical power. They needed to be collected and taken to the safety of Sanctuary. In the hands of the demons, or even the other archangels, the relic's power could be used to wipe out mankind once and for all.
Even if Drayke didn't trust Michael—or any angel for that matter—Marc had started having a change of heart where some angels were concerned. Back when he was still working covertly for the Human Counteroffensive Against Angels and Demons, or HCAAD for short— a fanatical organization—he had killed the scuz-bastards on a regular basis and never thought twice about it. Until he worked out that the anonymous "contact" who'd been feeding him information was an angel. At first he'd been pissed, because he'd trusted that "contact" for years. But within minutes of meeting Charmeine he'd found himself inadvertently saving her life. And well, something like that made a man rethink his stance on the matter of good and evil. Particularly when that guy ended up mystically bound to said angel.
"We're not going to be able to uncover the holy spear with all that going on right on top of the relic." Drayke took the power pack out of his rifle to check it over and cast a quick, blank glance at Ethan.
Marc knew that careful-empty expression for what it really was. Suspicion.
"Yet, equally, we cannot let either the angels or demons have it." Ethan's hands fisted against his thighs as he leaned sideways a bit to look past the boulder.
Drayke slammed the power pack back into the gun, a muscle in his jaw clenching on a flat look. "You're an angel, what's the diff?"
Ethan sighed, the kind of long exhale people used on impertinent children and dumb animals. "How many times have we tried to explain the difference between what Michael wishes to achieve—"
Marc didn't hear the rest of Ethan's words as a fine skittering of awareness trickled down his spine, one that had become annoyingly familiar. He locked his muscles and prepared for the worst. She is as subtle as an asteroid gouging out a crater on a moon.
"What's taking so long?"
He didn't need to look up to see his angel standing next to Ethan. He could sense Charmeine as if she were part of his own body. And that never got old. In fact, the bond seemed to be getting stronger over time and it had really started to freak him out. With each appearance, the fine energy she emitted felt stronger and more pleasurable. It'd gotten to the point he spent his days trying to avoid her. When she was around, he could hardly think of anything except touching her. Oh, and that one time they'd almost-but-not-quite kissed.
Not long after the bond between them had formed she'd tried to leave, but their mystical connection had one bitch of a clause. They couldn't get physically farther apart than a few hundred miles before a punishing pain kicked in. And the greater the distance of separation, the worse the agony. The stinging torture had done a number on both of them, forcing her to return to his side. Later, she'd cornered him in his washroom to talk things out and for some reason he'd thought kissing her would be a brilliant idea. Probably because his downstairs brain had overridden all rational thought process. They'd gotten close, hot, and heavy, but before he could get his mouth on her, she disappeared from his hold, leaving him feeling like a total tool.
Drayke sprung up and grabbed Charmeine's arm, pulling her down as a fireball went zooming past their rock.
"Are you trying to get Marc killed?" Drayke hated and distrusted Charmeine more than any other angel they'd ever come across. Yet more than once he'd gone out of his way to protect her.
The idea of an angel needing a personal guard seemed laughable. However, Marc didn't blame his friend. Mystical bond bitch-of-a-clause number two: Should either he or Charmeine die, the other would likewise take an immediate trip to the afterlife.
Charmeine wrenched out of Drayke's grasp and stood right back up again, her ice-blue gaze filled with chilly intensity and stubborn intent. No one told Charmeine what to do if they wanted to remain upright and in one piece. "Unlike you, I'm immortal. I'm also old, boy, so don't think a few toddlers having a hissy fit will make me crawl around down there in the muck." She lifted her foot and glared at her legs, encased in black, figure-hugging pants. "Ergh, you got slime all over me."
A flash of energy came at them, but Charmeine held up her hand without even looking and the glowing pulse puffed into nothingness.
"Are you that much more powerful than the other angels over there?" Marc squashed a bubble of annoyance. Maybe if she'd come with them in the first place, instead of staying back on the Morose Raider, this situation could have been resolved quicker. And now that she had made her way down here, she hadn't even bothered bringing her usual array of weapons. Her tight, sleek dark blue shirt and svelte black pants weren't exactly battle gear.
"We are both much older and more powerful." Ethan wrapped a hand around Charmeine's wrist and tugged her down. "They're just foot soldiers, same with the demons. All except for one. Kali is down there."
Kali. The name sounded familiar.
"Wasn't Kali an Old Earth goddess? The deity of destruction or something." Drayke's answer revived Marc's memories of lessons from their schooling days on Nellwyn Station.
Ethan nodded, looking troubled. "In myth she was portrayed as a goddess, but she's really just a very powerful demon." The scribe angel glanced at Charmeine. "So we should stay hidden unless we want to get roasted."
Charmeine nodded. Her acquiescence told Marc far more than words ever could. If Ethan and Charmeine didn't think they could take Kali, then they were all in some serious shit.
"Then what do we do?" Drayke's tone sounded grim. His friend was probably thinking the same, something along the lines of holy shit how are we going to get out of this alive? "Wait to see who wins and then take on the victors for the prize?"
Ethan shook his head. "The demons will win. There's no doubt about that. And even with the angels out of the picture, the odds don't look good for us."
Charmeine shook off Ethan's grip, her expression hard and determined. "We are not leaving here without that relic."
A subtle buzz murmured over Marc's skin as he sensed Charmeine gathering power. Oh, shit. Why did he have a bad feeling about this? "What are you going to do?"
She looked over at him as a fine, silver-snow colored vapor coalesced around her. "Sorry, this is going to hurt for a minute."
"Hang on a sec—" She disappeared in a bright flash and Drayke swore.
Marc dropped his rifle as a light tingling burn started in his hands and shot up his arms. He'd only ever felt that exact sensation one other time. Before he could take another breath, the burn turned into an inferno, pain radiating up from dark depths within.
"Goddamn bitch." He clenched his jaw and fell back against the rock as his muscles locked down until it felt like his own body had started suffocating him.
Blackness clamped him in a vice, trying to yank him from consciousness, and he fought the sucking vortex of oblivion for all he was worth. Except the hurt seemed so vast, so complete, there was no other sensation, or sound, or sight besides utter agony. Just as he began giving up the battle on staying lucid, every feeling flicked off with a suddenness that shocked his system almost as much as the pain had.
He dropped his head back against the boulder and wheezed a few hard breaths as his lungs struggled to recover. When he opened his eyes, everything before him spun and tilted before righting itself.
Drayke knelt by his side, hand gripped hard enough on his shoulder to leave bruises. Ethan crouched in front of him, concern tightening his features. Yet Charmeine wasn't anywhere in sight. She must have come back though, because otherwise the pain wouldn't have subsided.
"Are you all right, bro?" Drayke's word came out on an uneven note.
A slither of guilt and awkwardness stirred and chased away some of the lingering aches. To have Drayke see him in the fetal position, writhing in pain was probably about the worst thing he'd ever put his friend through. And they'd been involved in some messed up shit over the years.
Marc scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, the stinging pull of his curls catching on his fingers anchoring him in reality. "Yeah, I am now."
A blaze of multicolored light radiated from behind their stone barrier, casting sharp shadows and harsh lines. The flash would have been blinding if they'd been looking directly at it.
Ethan closed his eyes for a second and muttered in some kind of lilting language, before focusing on them again. "Now we're really in trouble."
"Why?" Drayke started to rise, but Ethan stopped him.
"Archangels."
"That's what that flash was?" Drayke hunkered down again and picked up his weapon.
A light touch brushed Marc's shoulder and he shivered as he rolled his head to the side, his body numb and senses slow. Too bad. If they had to fight now, he'd be damn useless.
His blurred gaze landed on Charmeine as she took solid form beside him. She looked a little pale. Her cool blue eyes didn't have their usual spark, and her blonde hair looked dull instead of shiny. Other than that she seemed fine. Anger revved Marc up, reawakened his anesthetized mind. Why did he get the feeling their separation took a lot more out of him than it did her?
"What did you do?" His voice came out stronger than he felt. Hell, he almost sounded like himself. He lifted his head, forcing his neck to take the weight, though his skull felt the size of an asteroid and pounded with relentless intensity.
"I went to visit a few associates I knew might be interested in the little party going down here." Her lips quirked into a short, tired smile.
"You ratted us out to the archangels?" Clearly agitated, Ethan ran a hand along his thigh. "Damn, Char, I thought you were going to help, not screw us harder."
Char. Marc rolled the short name over in his mind as he caught her eye. It suited her better than the more formal Charmeine. For a moment she looked back at him. He wished like hell he could hear her thoughts, could see what went on in that ageless, intelligent mind of hers.
She broke her gaze from his and pushed to her feet, wavering the slightest bit. No one else noticed, but these days he'd become highly attuned to her. He could pick up any little variation to her countenance or character.
"No point in hiding. They know we're here." She braced a hand against the rock, and though it appeared casual, he could tell it was about the only thing keeping her steady.
Ethan crossed his arms, his posture stiff and stubborn. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who we're dealing with."
Char lifted one delicate shoulder in a careless shrug. "Azrael, Gabriel, Raphael, Suriel, and Zadkiel."
"Five?" Drayke's tone came out strained, almost hoarse. "You're telling me there are five archangels on the other side of this rock?"
Ethan's jaw clenched. "We're probably lucky there aren't more. The archangels are aware of Michael's actions now. They know he's distancing himself from them, making his own plans. So how do you propose we get through this without ending up as guests of Zadkiel's?"
"Wait, what's with this Zadkiel guy?" Drayke interrupted.
Ethan glanced down at them. "Archangel Zadkiel's role in much of the war is to get information by any means possible. Let's just say that water boarding would be one of the fun things he'd do to you. If the other archangels want to know what Michael's up to, they'll capture us and we'll be at Zadkiel's compound before we know it."
Marc rubbed the bridge of his nose, his skull pounding, the pressure pushing outward until his head ached and his eye felt like they'd explode. He glared up at Char. "And you thought this would help us how?"
"The demons are gone. The other angels have been sent off, and now we can get the spear."
Drayke rose and then held a hand out for him. Marc took it, his muscles stiff as he forced them to cooperate and take his weight.
He leaned against the rock, hoping the ground would stop tilting beneath his feet sometime soon. Christ, it felt like he'd been on a three-day bender. "And you think the five archangels out there—including one apparently sadistic mo-fo—are just going to let us walk out and take it?"
Char's expression tightened, a slight flush of annoyance rising to color her pale cheeks. "All we need to do is get the spear, and then we'll have all the power, they won't be able to do anything."
Ethan shook his head. "It won't work. They know you can't risk killing one of them. No one knows what the celestial backlash of dispersing that much power would do."
Her lips kicked up, giving her appearance a wicked edge. "You're right. I wouldn't kill one of them, but I could destroy the relic."
"You'd never do that." Marc said as an arctic dread sliced deep into him, because he actually wasn't sure. One thing Char had proved to be since she'd come into his life was unpredictable.
She cut him a brief glance, her gaze calculating, as if she could sense that he doubted his own words. "But they don't know that, do they?"
Drayke glared at her, his hands tight around his rifle. "This is black-madness. You're going to get us all killed."
Char frowned right back at him, though the expression didn't have its usual lethal edge. "It'll work out fine. You just have to trust me."
"Trust you?" Drayke laughed, the sound sharp with disbelief. "That's hilarious. Out of all the angels and demons I've ever come across, you would be the last I'd ever trust."
Marc tensed up, offended on Charmeine's behalf. Which seemed totally moronic. Apart from the fact that Drayke was probably right, Char hadn't ever done anything to earn their suspicion, as she'd likewise never done anything to earn their trust.
Ethan stepped closer to Drayke and Char, placing himself almost between them. "I don't think we have a choice. There's no other option to get us out of this."
Char backed a step away from Drayke and looked at Ethan. "You go for the relic. I'll keep them distracted."
Marc gave up his crutch, pushing off the boulder. Adrenaline poured some life back into his limbs at the thought of the coming battle. Maybe he wouldn't be so useless after all. "What do you want us to do?"
Char cast a searching glance over him and Drayke, and from the dismayed expression that flitted across her fine features, she seemed to find them lacking. "Don't get yourselves killed." She started to turn away, but then paused. "Actually, Drayke, I don't care if you die."
She disappeared in a silver flash as Drayke swore. Ethan grinned before dematerializing as well. Marc stifled his laugh with a cough, though Drayke still glared at him.
"When we get back to Sanctuary, you have to ask Michael if there's some other way to break this stupid-ass binding thing."
Marc shrugged, a kind of weary resignation pooling within him when it came to his situation with Char.
"I've asked, several times. He even had Ethan look into Enochian history for me, but the archangel said there's no other way. She has to save my life in return, or we're stuck with each other."
Drayke's face twisted with an open mixture of disgust and irritation. "Excuse me if I don't take the word of an angel on anything."
They'd had this discussion more than once in the months since Char had come along. No doubt they'd have it again next time the angel did something to get on Drayke's nerves. And they'd be lucky to get off-world before that happened.
Annoyance at Drayke's continued unwillingness to accept the situation tugged at Marc's patience.
"Come on; let's get this over and done with."
He picked up his gun and then edged around the boulder, looking over the battlefield. Except there was no conflict left. As Char had predicted, all of the demons and angels were gone, leaving the five archangels standing on the muddy, churned and charred earth. Charmeine stood in front of them, but Ethan was nowhere in sight.
Each of the archangels on the surface appeared a lot like Michael, their build and height greater than a mortal man's. If that wasn't enough to tip someone off that these were some serious contenders, the atmosphere around them all but crackled with barely leashed power.
They didn't seem very impressed with Charmeine, their postures ranging in levels of tension and aggression. Marc's protective hackles rose, his fingers tightening around his weapon. He didn't like the way the five archangels loosely surrounded her.
Stupid. Like he could march out there and defend her from a bunch of pissed off supernatural ass-wipes. Like she even needed protecting. If only he could blame all these weird compulsions he had when it came to her on the bond between them. He got the feeling the mystical connection had nothing to do with it. And wasting time thinking about Char and their circumstances when they were in danger of being caught any second now probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.
He shot a glance at Drayke, who nodded in return. They slipped out from behind the meager cover of the boulder and started making their way down toward the cluster of angels. Marc paused by a half-decimated tree, the trunk spearing up into nothingness, and Drayke joined him a second later.
Drayke kicked his boot against the bark to dislodge some of the thick mud from his sole. "One thing I'll say about the angels, they've got it easy, not having to walk anywhere. A simple poof and you're at your destination."
"I wouldn't call it walking in this sludge, more like wading." Marc surveyed the situation now that he'd got a bit closer. Ethan still seemed to be AWOL. Charmeine now faced off with four archangels instead of five. Dread crept over Marc's skin, making him aware of how wet and grimy his clothes were. He brought his weapon up, scanning for movement around the perimeters of the muddy clearing.
Shit. Where had the bastard gone?
Chapter One
Trident Quadrant, Ariel Galaxy, Planet X-702
Marc dropped for cover behind the rock face and put his back against the cool, smooth stone. Damn, but things weren't exactly going to plan. He looked over at Drayke beside him.
"We're getting our collective asses kicked," Drayke said and wiped his arm over his forehead. Not that the effort made much of a difference to the thick coating of sweat and grime covering him like a day spa gone wrong.
Marc was trying not to breathe too deeply. The smell of the half-terra-formed world was pretty much vomit inducing. There was no ground beneath them, just a never-ending pit of slimy, rancid mud. And the thick, greasy humidity ensured every putrid odor soaked into his skin. When he got back to the Morose Raider, he'd be locking himself in the shower for at least the next ten hours until he could forget this fetid trench they were crouched in.
"Did you hear me?" Drayke altered his grip on his nucleon rifle and glanced around the boulder. "I thought Michael said this would be a walk in the park, that we'd have the holy spear and be out of here before any angels or demons knew what we were doing. This isn't a park, dude, this is a cesspool. In fact, I'm pretty sure it might be one of the outer layers of hell."
A stray blast of energy streaked over their heads and slammed into a giant tree. Marc ducked as woodchip-sized pieces of the trunk sliced through the air, nicking his exposed skin like angry insects. Shit. If that'd been a direct hit, they'd be vapor right now.
Before the air had even cleared, he pushed to his feet and braced his chest against the even roundness of the boulder, firing a spray of ammo at anything that moved. Beyond the crap-ass shelter he and Drayke had jumped behind a dozen angels faced off with twice that number of demons. For the most part, the supernatural sons of bitches appeared too busy trying to take each other out to notice a few humans scurrying around, especially since the humans' weapons were about as effective on angels and demons as poking them with a stick. Still, as soon as they were done slaughtering each other, Marc suspected the scuz-bastards would come after them next.
With a concentrated round of firing, Marc managed to drop a demon. No doubt the thing would heal and be on its feet again in a matter of moments. Goddamn it. If they had an unlimited supply of Silvan Sloane's magic ammo on hand they could have wiped out every non-human with a few simple shots. Sylvan's old-fashioned guns shot bullets that emitted an electro-magnetic field. The field interrupted a supernatural being's ability to heal. But according to Sloane, the guns were difficult to source and the bullets even harder to make. They had to be careful when and where they used them.
Marc released a long breath and dropped into a crouch. Sweat dripped from his hair, stinging his eyes. "Michael might be an archangel, but he's not all-seeing. He couldn't have known we'd get ambushed by two separate raiding parties."
Drayke arched an eyebrow. "He could have known and sent us anyway."
They both ducked as another energy blast went astray, this time meeting its mark against the ground farther away. A plume of slimy mud splattered everything in sight. Marc grimaced and wiped a few thick splotches off his face. And if the filth wasn't enough, the ebb and flow of pressure in the atmosphere had the weird effect of blocking his ears. "You think Michael set us up?"
"He's an angel. An archangel. The fact he hasn'ttried to kill us before now had me freaked out."
A shimmer of golden, sunlight-like energy wavered in front of them and Marc brought his rifle up. A spurt of anxiety laced with adrenaline pumped through him.
"I could write a treatise on everything that freaks you out, Drayke." Ethan materialized in a crouch, his khaki cargo pants, and gray T-shirt looking unbelievably clean and fresh. Of course, being a scribe angel, Ethan would likely obliterate any dirt stupid enough to get near him.
Relieved, Marc blew out a breath and lowered his gun. He glanced around the rock, willing his heart rate to settle before he had a damn coronary. The angels and demons were still going at it, no clear winner in the brawl. And the burial site of the holy spear was in the middle of all that muck and rain of energy blasts.
"Did you manage to work out the exact location?" Marc turned back to Ethan and Drayke. Right now, the words 'lost' and 'cause' were trying to jam themselves together in his head, stirring up a whole lot of impotent anger. The relics were important because of their mystical power. They needed to be collected and taken to the safety of Sanctuary. In the hands of the demons, or even the other archangels, the relic's power could be used to wipe out mankind once and for all.
Even if Drayke didn't trust Michael—or any angel for that matter—Marc had started having a change of heart where some angels were concerned. Back when he was still working covertly for the Human Counteroffensive Against Angels and Demons, or HCAAD for short— a fanatical organization—he had killed the scuz-bastards on a regular basis and never thought twice about it. Until he worked out that the anonymous "contact" who'd been feeding him information was an angel. At first he'd been pissed, because he'd trusted that "contact" for years. But within minutes of meeting Charmeine he'd found himself inadvertently saving her life. And well, something like that made a man rethink his stance on the matter of good and evil. Particularly when that guy ended up mystically bound to said angel.
"We're not going to be able to uncover the holy spear with all that going on right on top of the relic." Drayke took the power pack out of his rifle to check it over and cast a quick, blank glance at Ethan.
Marc knew that careful-empty expression for what it really was. Suspicion.
"Yet, equally, we cannot let either the angels or demons have it." Ethan's hands fisted against his thighs as he leaned sideways a bit to look past the boulder.
Drayke slammed the power pack back into the gun, a muscle in his jaw clenching on a flat look. "You're an angel, what's the diff?"
Ethan sighed, the kind of long exhale people used on impertinent children and dumb animals. "How many times have we tried to explain the difference between what Michael wishes to achieve—"
Marc didn't hear the rest of Ethan's words as a fine skittering of awareness trickled down his spine, one that had become annoyingly familiar. He locked his muscles and prepared for the worst. She is as subtle as an asteroid gouging out a crater on a moon.
"What's taking so long?"
He didn't need to look up to see his angel standing next to Ethan. He could sense Charmeine as if she were part of his own body. And that never got old. In fact, the bond seemed to be getting stronger over time and it had really started to freak him out. With each appearance, the fine energy she emitted felt stronger and more pleasurable. It'd gotten to the point he spent his days trying to avoid her. When she was around, he could hardly think of anything except touching her. Oh, and that one time they'd almost-but-not-quite kissed.
Not long after the bond between them had formed she'd tried to leave, but their mystical connection had one bitch of a clause. They couldn't get physically farther apart than a few hundred miles before a punishing pain kicked in. And the greater the distance of separation, the worse the agony. The stinging torture had done a number on both of them, forcing her to return to his side. Later, she'd cornered him in his washroom to talk things out and for some reason he'd thought kissing her would be a brilliant idea. Probably because his downstairs brain had overridden all rational thought process. They'd gotten close, hot, and heavy, but before he could get his mouth on her, she disappeared from his hold, leaving him feeling like a total tool.
Drayke sprung up and grabbed Charmeine's arm, pulling her down as a fireball went zooming past their rock.
"Are you trying to get Marc killed?" Drayke hated and distrusted Charmeine more than any other angel they'd ever come across. Yet more than once he'd gone out of his way to protect her.
The idea of an angel needing a personal guard seemed laughable. However, Marc didn't blame his friend. Mystical bond bitch-of-a-clause number two: Should either he or Charmeine die, the other would likewise take an immediate trip to the afterlife.
Charmeine wrenched out of Drayke's grasp and stood right back up again, her ice-blue gaze filled with chilly intensity and stubborn intent. No one told Charmeine what to do if they wanted to remain upright and in one piece. "Unlike you, I'm immortal. I'm also old, boy, so don't think a few toddlers having a hissy fit will make me crawl around down there in the muck." She lifted her foot and glared at her legs, encased in black, figure-hugging pants. "Ergh, you got slime all over me."
A flash of energy came at them, but Charmeine held up her hand without even looking and the glowing pulse puffed into nothingness.
"Are you that much more powerful than the other angels over there?" Marc squashed a bubble of annoyance. Maybe if she'd come with them in the first place, instead of staying back on the Morose Raider, this situation could have been resolved quicker. And now that she had made her way down here, she hadn't even bothered bringing her usual array of weapons. Her tight, sleek dark blue shirt and svelte black pants weren't exactly battle gear.
"We are both much older and more powerful." Ethan wrapped a hand around Charmeine's wrist and tugged her down. "They're just foot soldiers, same with the demons. All except for one. Kali is down there."
Kali. The name sounded familiar.
"Wasn't Kali an Old Earth goddess? The deity of destruction or something." Drayke's answer revived Marc's memories of lessons from their schooling days on Nellwyn Station.
Ethan nodded, looking troubled. "In myth she was portrayed as a goddess, but she's really just a very powerful demon." The scribe angel glanced at Charmeine. "So we should stay hidden unless we want to get roasted."
Charmeine nodded. Her acquiescence told Marc far more than words ever could. If Ethan and Charmeine didn't think they could take Kali, then they were all in some serious shit.
"Then what do we do?" Drayke's tone sounded grim. His friend was probably thinking the same, something along the lines of holy shit how are we going to get out of this alive? "Wait to see who wins and then take on the victors for the prize?"
Ethan shook his head. "The demons will win. There's no doubt about that. And even with the angels out of the picture, the odds don't look good for us."
Charmeine shook off Ethan's grip, her expression hard and determined. "We are not leaving here without that relic."
A subtle buzz murmured over Marc's skin as he sensed Charmeine gathering power. Oh, shit. Why did he have a bad feeling about this? "What are you going to do?"
She looked over at him as a fine, silver-snow colored vapor coalesced around her. "Sorry, this is going to hurt for a minute."
"Hang on a sec—" She disappeared in a bright flash and Drayke swore.
Marc dropped his rifle as a light tingling burn started in his hands and shot up his arms. He'd only ever felt that exact sensation one other time. Before he could take another breath, the burn turned into an inferno, pain radiating up from dark depths within.
"Goddamn bitch." He clenched his jaw and fell back against the rock as his muscles locked down until it felt like his own body had started suffocating him.
Blackness clamped him in a vice, trying to yank him from consciousness, and he fought the sucking vortex of oblivion for all he was worth. Except the hurt seemed so vast, so complete, there was no other sensation, or sound, or sight besides utter agony. Just as he began giving up the battle on staying lucid, every feeling flicked off with a suddenness that shocked his system almost as much as the pain had.
He dropped his head back against the boulder and wheezed a few hard breaths as his lungs struggled to recover. When he opened his eyes, everything before him spun and tilted before righting itself.
Drayke knelt by his side, hand gripped hard enough on his shoulder to leave bruises. Ethan crouched in front of him, concern tightening his features. Yet Charmeine wasn't anywhere in sight. She must have come back though, because otherwise the pain wouldn't have subsided.
"Are you all right, bro?" Drayke's word came out on an uneven note.
A slither of guilt and awkwardness stirred and chased away some of the lingering aches. To have Drayke see him in the fetal position, writhing in pain was probably about the worst thing he'd ever put his friend through. And they'd been involved in some messed up shit over the years.
Marc scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, the stinging pull of his curls catching on his fingers anchoring him in reality. "Yeah, I am now."
A blaze of multicolored light radiated from behind their stone barrier, casting sharp shadows and harsh lines. The flash would have been blinding if they'd been looking directly at it.
Ethan closed his eyes for a second and muttered in some kind of lilting language, before focusing on them again. "Now we're really in trouble."
"Why?" Drayke started to rise, but Ethan stopped him.
"Archangels."
"That's what that flash was?" Drayke hunkered down again and picked up his weapon.
A light touch brushed Marc's shoulder and he shivered as he rolled his head to the side, his body numb and senses slow. Too bad. If they had to fight now, he'd be damn useless.
His blurred gaze landed on Charmeine as she took solid form beside him. She looked a little pale. Her cool blue eyes didn't have their usual spark, and her blonde hair looked dull instead of shiny. Other than that she seemed fine. Anger revved Marc up, reawakened his anesthetized mind. Why did he get the feeling their separation took a lot more out of him than it did her?
"What did you do?" His voice came out stronger than he felt. Hell, he almost sounded like himself. He lifted his head, forcing his neck to take the weight, though his skull felt the size of an asteroid and pounded with relentless intensity.
"I went to visit a few associates I knew might be interested in the little party going down here." Her lips quirked into a short, tired smile.
"You ratted us out to the archangels?" Clearly agitated, Ethan ran a hand along his thigh. "Damn, Char, I thought you were going to help, not screw us harder."
Char. Marc rolled the short name over in his mind as he caught her eye. It suited her better than the more formal Charmeine. For a moment she looked back at him. He wished like hell he could hear her thoughts, could see what went on in that ageless, intelligent mind of hers.
She broke her gaze from his and pushed to her feet, wavering the slightest bit. No one else noticed, but these days he'd become highly attuned to her. He could pick up any little variation to her countenance or character.
"No point in hiding. They know we're here." She braced a hand against the rock, and though it appeared casual, he could tell it was about the only thing keeping her steady.
Ethan crossed his arms, his posture stiff and stubborn. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who we're dealing with."
Char lifted one delicate shoulder in a careless shrug. "Azrael, Gabriel, Raphael, Suriel, and Zadkiel."
"Five?" Drayke's tone came out strained, almost hoarse. "You're telling me there are five archangels on the other side of this rock?"
Ethan's jaw clenched. "We're probably lucky there aren't more. The archangels are aware of Michael's actions now. They know he's distancing himself from them, making his own plans. So how do you propose we get through this without ending up as guests of Zadkiel's?"
"Wait, what's with this Zadkiel guy?" Drayke interrupted.
Ethan glanced down at them. "Archangel Zadkiel's role in much of the war is to get information by any means possible. Let's just say that water boarding would be one of the fun things he'd do to you. If the other archangels want to know what Michael's up to, they'll capture us and we'll be at Zadkiel's compound before we know it."
Marc rubbed the bridge of his nose, his skull pounding, the pressure pushing outward until his head ached and his eye felt like they'd explode. He glared up at Char. "And you thought this would help us how?"
"The demons are gone. The other angels have been sent off, and now we can get the spear."
Drayke rose and then held a hand out for him. Marc took it, his muscles stiff as he forced them to cooperate and take his weight.
He leaned against the rock, hoping the ground would stop tilting beneath his feet sometime soon. Christ, it felt like he'd been on a three-day bender. "And you think the five archangels out there—including one apparently sadistic mo-fo—are just going to let us walk out and take it?"
Char's expression tightened, a slight flush of annoyance rising to color her pale cheeks. "All we need to do is get the spear, and then we'll have all the power, they won't be able to do anything."
Ethan shook his head. "It won't work. They know you can't risk killing one of them. No one knows what the celestial backlash of dispersing that much power would do."
Her lips kicked up, giving her appearance a wicked edge. "You're right. I wouldn't kill one of them, but I could destroy the relic."
"You'd never do that." Marc said as an arctic dread sliced deep into him, because he actually wasn't sure. One thing Char had proved to be since she'd come into his life was unpredictable.
She cut him a brief glance, her gaze calculating, as if she could sense that he doubted his own words. "But they don't know that, do they?"
Drayke glared at her, his hands tight around his rifle. "This is black-madness. You're going to get us all killed."
Char frowned right back at him, though the expression didn't have its usual lethal edge. "It'll work out fine. You just have to trust me."
"Trust you?" Drayke laughed, the sound sharp with disbelief. "That's hilarious. Out of all the angels and demons I've ever come across, you would be the last I'd ever trust."
Marc tensed up, offended on Charmeine's behalf. Which seemed totally moronic. Apart from the fact that Drayke was probably right, Char hadn't ever done anything to earn their suspicion, as she'd likewise never done anything to earn their trust.
Ethan stepped closer to Drayke and Char, placing himself almost between them. "I don't think we have a choice. There's no other option to get us out of this."
Char backed a step away from Drayke and looked at Ethan. "You go for the relic. I'll keep them distracted."
Marc gave up his crutch, pushing off the boulder. Adrenaline poured some life back into his limbs at the thought of the coming battle. Maybe he wouldn't be so useless after all. "What do you want us to do?"
Char cast a searching glance over him and Drayke, and from the dismayed expression that flitted across her fine features, she seemed to find them lacking. "Don't get yourselves killed." She started to turn away, but then paused. "Actually, Drayke, I don't care if you die."
She disappeared in a silver flash as Drayke swore. Ethan grinned before dematerializing as well. Marc stifled his laugh with a cough, though Drayke still glared at him.
"When we get back to Sanctuary, you have to ask Michael if there's some other way to break this stupid-ass binding thing."
Marc shrugged, a kind of weary resignation pooling within him when it came to his situation with Char.
"I've asked, several times. He even had Ethan look into Enochian history for me, but the archangel said there's no other way. She has to save my life in return, or we're stuck with each other."
Drayke's face twisted with an open mixture of disgust and irritation. "Excuse me if I don't take the word of an angel on anything."
They'd had this discussion more than once in the months since Char had come along. No doubt they'd have it again next time the angel did something to get on Drayke's nerves. And they'd be lucky to get off-world before that happened.
Annoyance at Drayke's continued unwillingness to accept the situation tugged at Marc's patience.
"Come on; let's get this over and done with."
He picked up his gun and then edged around the boulder, looking over the battlefield. Except there was no conflict left. As Char had predicted, all of the demons and angels were gone, leaving the five archangels standing on the muddy, churned and charred earth. Charmeine stood in front of them, but Ethan was nowhere in sight.
Each of the archangels on the surface appeared a lot like Michael, their build and height greater than a mortal man's. If that wasn't enough to tip someone off that these were some serious contenders, the atmosphere around them all but crackled with barely leashed power.
They didn't seem very impressed with Charmeine, their postures ranging in levels of tension and aggression. Marc's protective hackles rose, his fingers tightening around his weapon. He didn't like the way the five archangels loosely surrounded her.
Stupid. Like he could march out there and defend her from a bunch of pissed off supernatural ass-wipes. Like she even needed protecting. If only he could blame all these weird compulsions he had when it came to her on the bond between them. He got the feeling the mystical connection had nothing to do with it. And wasting time thinking about Char and their circumstances when they were in danger of being caught any second now probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.
He shot a glance at Drayke, who nodded in return. They slipped out from behind the meager cover of the boulder and started making their way down toward the cluster of angels. Marc paused by a half-decimated tree, the trunk spearing up into nothingness, and Drayke joined him a second later.
Drayke kicked his boot against the bark to dislodge some of the thick mud from his sole. "One thing I'll say about the angels, they've got it easy, not having to walk anywhere. A simple poof and you're at your destination."
"I wouldn't call it walking in this sludge, more like wading." Marc surveyed the situation now that he'd got a bit closer. Ethan still seemed to be AWOL. Charmeine now faced off with four archangels instead of five. Dread crept over Marc's skin, making him aware of how wet and grimy his clothes were. He brought his weapon up, scanning for movement around the perimeters of the muddy clearing.
Shit. Where had the bastard gone?
