Benevolent Passion Read online

  A deep sigh. “It needs medical help and we hear you are equipped to deal with it.”

  “I won’t sell it back to you for what I pay you today. If it heals, there’ll be a lot of work that went into it, and medical assistance isn’t cheap. And who knows? I may want to keep it afterwards. Haven’t had an angel blood slave before.”

  “Fine, as long as the option is there.”

  “Ten million dollars,” Trick said.

  Kerrington stepped back and thrust his chin up, indicating his compatriot to follow suit. They spoke in low tones for a few minutes.

  Peony couldn’t believe it. If ten million dollars was cheap, what on earth were angels worth in perfect health, with all their feathers?

  I wasn’t worth that much.

  No, but then, no one was sure how long she’d live, so they’d agreed on a price she could work off in a lifetime.

  “I agree to the terms,” the demon said.

  Trick clapped his hands together. “Let’s get the paperwork signed.” He shot Peony a look, which she interpreted to mean ‘go back to your corner’.

  She concentrated on not limping, wincing as she headed back to the wall. Then she slowly turned on her good leg and watched as knives were drawn, bank account details given, and paperwork signed in blood. Kerrington roughly grabbed the angel’s thumb, nicked it, then used the blood to place a fingerprint on the contract.

  Did it count as a real contract if the signatory was unconscious?

  She was desperate to help the angel, but she stayed where she was; considering he hadn’t died from his injuries yet, she figured a few more minutes might not hurt. If this had been a hospital, though, she’d have been working on him the instant he came into view.

  “It is done.” Trick tapped the signed papers against his desk, then he looked over at the two Infernus. “If I see either you of you in the next year, though, you’re dead.”

  Kerrington spluttered. “We have first right to buy—”

  “Yes, but I won’t be selling this angel to anyone until it’s healed. And considering you touched my property without permission, you’re lucky I agreed to this deal. So get out, and stay away from me. Or—” Power sizzled through the room again.

  “Or what?”

  Trick nodded at Kerrington’s companion, who screamed, a horrible high-pitched sound. His muscles bunched, and his head thrashed from side to side, before the sound cut off suddenly. The scent of singed roses filled the room, making her want to gag. A second later, the demon went limp, the electrical pulses that had flickered on his skin from the moment he entered, gone.

  “That is just a taste of what I can do. Don’t piss me off, and you don’t need to know what I do to those who really annoy me.”

  Kerrington’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Point taken.”

  Somehow, she doubted it was. Resolve was etched into every line of the demon’s body.

  “Let’s go.”

  With a crackle of magic, the two demons teleported away.

  Trick bent down and examined the angel’s torso, before pressing his open hand on the bare skin. A low moan filled the room, like the angel was in pain.

  “What did you do?” Peony demanded angrily, ready to dive between Trick and her new patient.

  “I’ve branded him—it’s what happens when someone becomes a blood slave.”

  She’d never heard of that before. “I don’t have one.”

  “No. But then, touching him won’t kill me.” He sighed. “Wait here.”

  Like she was going to leave the angel, but she kept her mouth shut.

  Trick walked to the opposite wall, then tapped a random series of stone bricks. A doorway opened before him, the dark interior swallowing his frame as he disappeared.

  Hidden tunnels, why am I not surprised?

  He was probably spying on everything.

  There’s no probably about it.

  Funny how her inner voice suddenly sounded like Dru. Her sister was convinced Trick tracked their movements, to the point that she had paid a small fortune to lay spells in her room to counter just such prying.

  Guessing Trick would be back when he felt like it, Peony limped over to the angel, then kneeled on the ground, hissing as the egg on her shin made contact with the floor. She redid her preliminary exam, coming to the same conclusions as before.

  He’d really benefit from some rehydration, antibiotics, and pain relief. That said, she wasn’t sure that antibiotics would work on an angel. She had a rather poor track record with her patients reacting to the medication—anaphylaxis had been the least of her problems.

  Trick’s voice came from over her shoulder. “Any improvement?”

  She jumped, and hissed as her shin jerked against the ground. “No.”

  The golden-haired demon had wheeled in a gurney. Did he just raid my clinic? Although, ‘clinic’ was really a euphemism for the box of a room and minimal supplies she’d been given.

  “Let’s move him out of my office.”

  Peony stood. “To the clinic?”

  “No. I don’t want anyone knowing we have an angel here.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  His expression closed. “Because while the assassins here are largely slaves, they still have free will. And many of them have grudges against angels. Until I’m ready for this to become public knowledge, it stays a secret. Got it?”

  Peony nodded. She was entirely sure she bought his story, but angels and demons weren’t exactly friends, so the rivalry was clear.

  “Now, let’s get him sorted.”

  As she turned back to the angel, her body stiffened. He was looking right at her, with eyes of the purest green she’d ever seen. It was like he could see straight into her soul.

  And what he saw there concerned him.

  Chapter 5

  Pain.

  Zadkiel’s whole body screamed with it. His head and wings hurt the most, the sensation akin to razor blades slicing along his flesh. But at least he could no longer smell that strange combination of antiseptic and blood.

  “Careful!”

  He didn’t recognize the voice.

  Opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that he could see properly again. Earlier, harsh shadows had clouded his sight. Now, his gaze traced over a shock of white hair that contrasted sharply with golden-hued skin. The scent of sugar reached him.

  It was a woman.

  No.

  As his other senses kicked in, he realized that the stranger was a demon. Not a woman, not a person.

  Another Hell-spawn.

  Although, while he had no idea what kind of demon she was, she certainly wasn’t Infernus.

  “Damnit, Trick! I said be careful!” Her gray eyes blazed at something behind him, and he realized he was being lifted off a bed by someone he couldn’t see. His nerves fired at being moved, the agony spearing through him, but he stayed conscious, miracle of miracles.

  He was placed rather unceremoniously on a hard bench, face down. His cheek pressed roughly against what might be a towel, the faint smell of flowers drifting from the fabric.

  Then someone was touching his wings. He wanted to fight the hands, to shove them away, but his limbs would not respond. Paralyzed again. But this felt different to last time, like a wound that hadn’t healed, rather than a drug forced on him.

  Why can I feel my limbs, but not move them?

  The hands that explored his withered wings were gentle, professional almost, in their movements. While the demon female worked, he wondered if he should risk calling mentally for the other Darts. Would the telepathy be tracked? You don’t know until you try. He blocked out the feel of hands moving over him, and concentrated on Dina, then the others. Nothing. Just the gray mist.

  Maybe the wounds to my head have impacted on my ability. Or he was just too far away. That thought brought him little comfort.

  “How bad is it?” The voice was male, not one he rec
ognized.

  “His wings are in pretty bad shape. It looks like the sores are infected, and the wounds just aren’t healing. I don’t think this was done recently.” The demon woman moved into his line of sight as she investigated the arches of his wings. She was covered from neck to toe in blue clothing, like something he might see in a human hospital.

  Where am I?

  He could only hear and smell the two people already in the room. There was no sign of the Infernus.

  “How long do you think he’s been like this?” the unseen male asked.

  ‘He’ is awake.

  But did he really want to interact with these demons? They could be worse than the Infernus, lulling him into a false sense of security. Skies, they could just be the Infernus’ lackeys, and he would be in for more pain as soon as they were done investigating his wounds.

  “If this was a human, I’d say a week or two. But the time it would take for disease like this to infect a demon? It could have been months. I have no idea for angels. However, his immune system does appear to have been compromised. So that might account for the state of his health. Could the removal of his feathers have done it?”

  He wanted to snort at her ignorance. Angel feathers weren’t magical, at least, not like that. They were like a bird’s—good for flying.

  “Doubtful,” the male replied. “The value of angel feathers isn’t tied to their healing properties—it’s associated with the fact that angelic energy can fuel demonic spells.”

  How did he know that?

  But he answered his own question: He’s a demon. And angel feathers have been hunted for a long time. Don’t be stupid.

  His head wound must be affecting him more than he realized.

  “I see.” Her reply was cool and slightly disapproving. Of which part? he wondered.

  Her hands shifted from their investigation of his wings, to his head, back and legs. “I can’t diagnose him properly without an X-ray machine, but I think he has a fractured skull and spine.”

  That would explain why he had lost control of his limbs. Although, why he wasn’t totally numb was odd. Considering the torture, his body was probably in overload.

  Maybe you are healing, just very slowly.

  “What if we ask Opal to have a look?” the female suggested.

  “No one can know about him. And you know Opal, she’ll take one look at his emaciated frame and fall in love.”

  The hands paused in their perusal. “Her relationship record isn’t very good, that’s true.”

  What kind of a demon was Opal that she be able to diagnose what plagued him? He assumed she was a demon, and not a human or angel.

  No angel would work with a group of demons.

  Not even if it was in their best interests.

  A starburst of pain shot through his skull as the woman’s fingers carefully assessed his wound again. “I think this has partially healed since it was first inflicted.”

  “So, he is healing?”

  “I think so. But he looks like he’s been poisoned. Everywhere I’ve touched has bruised. I could really do with taking some bloods and—”

  “We’ve been over this. I can’t afford to buy you everything you ‘need’.”

  “You paid ten million dollars for him. Some of this equipment—”

  “Is a complete waste of money. Work with what you have. Get some spells or other demons to help fill in the blanks. Although, run any request for demonic assistance by me first. I will approve access. I am running an assassination guild here, not a fucking hospital.”

  Zadkiel was at a guild?

  He’d heard of them, of course. They were considered by angelkind to be some of the worst hotbeds of demonic rage and trouble: a demon could get anything they wanted from these dens of iniquity, for a price. And now he was in one? Or near one of the masters?

  This really wasn’t good.

  Is it worse than the Infernus?

  That he wasn’t sure about.

  And if he was here, where was Dina? Had she been brought here, too? He wanted to ask the question, but when he opened his mouth, nothing but a croak emerged.

  “You’re awake!” The startled comment had him raising his chin, meeting the stare of the female demon. She seemed taken aback for a moment, before turning away from him, like his gaze had burned her. “He needs water, and I think I should cannulate him...”

  “Fine. Get your supplies.”

  She hurried out of sight, a door closing.

  His stomach clenched, but no new pain arrived after her departure.

  So, she wasn’t the only thing stopping this male from hurting me.

  A few seconds later, a demon strode into view, before dropping to a squat, so they were at eye-level. He was wearing a suit and had shiny blond hair and dark-brown eyes. He was classically handsome, with no outward signs of his demonic ancestry. He could pass for a human, or a wingless angel, for that matter.

  This must be the guild master.

  Funny, he didn’t look like a killer. But then, looks were often deceiving.

  “What’s your name?” the stranger asked.

  He didn’t reply.

  Part of him wondered if he was even entitled to his name anymore. He’d been gone from Heaven, taken, and surely that meant he was no longer able to serve, even if he were to gain his freedom. Who would want an angel with his track record on their team?

  No one he knew.

  After all, his commission on the Darts had been something special. Sure, some said the team’s role was largely ceremonial, but Dina was a powerhouse, and she’d been running the Darts for centuries. No one doubted her skill or achievements. And it had made sense for the best of the best to guard one of Heaven’s most treasured artifacts.

  Did they take it? he wondered. Or had the others arrived to prevent the theft? He hoped Dina and the rest of the Darts were out searching for him, that the Heart had been kept safe.

  “Hello?” The man clicked his fingers in front of Zadkiel’s face. “Are you listening?”

  He managed a raspy, “Yes.” He had the feeling that if he ignored this guild master, things wouldn’t go well for him.

  “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t want to give this demon his real name—and he wasn’t even sure if he was a true angel anymore. It wasn’t like he had the wings to prove it.

  “Z.”

  The male’s face looked skeptical, but then he shrugged. “Fine. Z, my name is Trick. I am your master.”

  The demon spoke the truth, but how could that be? Had his ability to sense lies been damaged?

  “M-m-master?” He launched into a coughing fit, agony shooting through his body at the convulsions.

  The demon waited patiently for his coughing to subside. “You were sold to me today, by a group of Infernus. Ring any bells?”

  The sale? No. But the Infernus...

  “Where...am...I?”

  “Tartarus. In the Halcyon Guild.” A cold, hard smile bloomed on Trick’s face. The expression was anything but happy. “It’s your new home.”

  He was in Hell?

  But it made sense. Where else would you hide an angel? The Human Realm would be too risky.

  “What...?” His throat was too dry to finish the question.

  “This is an assassination guild, but we offer a range of services to our clients. I’ve not had an angel blood slave before, so I’d try and heal quickly if I were you, before my patience runs out.”

  Blood slave...

  “My wings—”

  Trick clucked. “Are in very poor shape. If they don’t heal, I’ll remove them.”

  No!

  The demon must have seen the horror on his face, and gave Z’s cheek a light, condescending pat. “No wings are better than half-rotten bits of bone that will kill you from infection.”

  The rationale almost sounded...legitimate.

  But I can’t lose them.

  He w
as so young, if this demon took his wings, they might never grow back. The older and more powerful the angel, the harder the removal was. Some were said to be so powerful, only an archangel’s sword could do the deed.

  But he wasn’t in that category.

  And now he was in Hell. Both literally and figuratively.

  If he didn’t heal—

  “I’m back!” The demon woman sounded breathless. She hurried over, brushing past Trick and hauling a cart after her. She grabbed a plastic cup of water and a straw in one hand, and then glared at the blond demon until he moved out of the way.

  “Here.” She bent down and held the cup in front of Zadkiel—no, Z. “Have a drink. But slowly, you don’t want to choke.”

  He met her gray gaze and froze. There was kindness there. Real kindness. In his surprise he obeyed, the water a cool blessing as it slid down his parched throat.

  “Good.” She waited until he finished, then went back to the cart.

  “I’m going to head back to the hall. Do what you can.” Trick then turned his attention to Z. “Do what she says, and heal as quickly as possible. Otherwise, remember what I said.”

  Then he was gone.

  “Don’t mind him,” the woman said. “He likes to be dramatic. Now, let’s get some antiseptic on those wings.”

  Then a whole new kind of torture began.

  Chapter 6

  She dreamed of emerald green, the color so pure she’d never seen its like before. Wonder, excitement and—strangely—attraction pulsed through her as she took in the particular shade.

  When she woke, she stared at the black ceiling for a solid ten minutes, berating herself. She had seen that color green before: in the angel’s eyes.

  That was not good.

  He was just a patient.

  That was it.

  Sure, keep telling yourself that.

  But she’d always been fascinated with things that were meant to be ‘good’. And meeting an angel in real life? Well, you couldn’t get much closer to ‘good’ than that.

  Mom will be annoyed.

  That was true. Her mother didn’t trust angels, didn’t trust anyone, really. Selene used her medical abilities to weed out the demons from her ER and prevent humans from learning the truth about them. She didn’t enjoy healing her demonic brethren, just did it so they wouldn’t have an excuse to hang around the hospital. And she’d always been dismissive of angels.