He shot out of the portal and straight into the fray. The vampires were pushed back against the far wall now, Christian out in front. He flashed Ash a grim smile, then whirled to deflect a blast.
“Hey,” Ash shouted to for the nearest angel, then swooped down. The angel turned and raised his hand, but before he could release the white fire, Ash slammed into him hurtling them both to the rooftop in a flurry of wings. He shook free, raised his sword, and sliced the angel through the middle so he vanished in a flutter of white feathers.
That wouldn’t finish him for good; he would materialize back where he came from. But it would get rid of him for the moment and it would hurt like hell.
With a beat of his wings, he pushed himself into the air and dove for the next one, a wild exhilaration filling him.
A good fight and the prospect of a hopefully not so good woman. He’d show Faith how to release her darker side and love it.
…
Faith peered around at her little group of refugees. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m ready to wake up now. More than ready.”
Ryan scrubbed at his already messy hair as he looked around him. “Count me in. Maybe we could pinch each other.”
Faith ground her teeth together. “‘Trust me,’ he said. So I did, and look where that got me. Hell.”
“Actually,” Tara said. “They like to refer to it as the Abyss, and apparently, it’s not so bad.”
“Humph. A rose by any other name and all that crap. And I’ll take your word for the not so bad bit. Do you come here often?”
Tara grinned. “No, I’ve never been. Ash invited me, but…”
“Yeah, I heard you don’t get on.”
So Ash was seven feet tall, had black wings, and lived in hell. Put all that together and that probably made him a…
Her brain balked at even thinking the word. Maybe when she was alone she’d allow herself to think about it. She could go into hysterics without embarrassing herself too badly.
The woman—the extremely beautiful woman—who’d handed Ash the sword studied them, her lips pursed and her nose wrinkled as though she’d smelled something unpleasant.
“Would you like to follow me?”
Faith wasn’t sure. Actually, she was sure—she didn’t want to follow her. But at the same time, she was intrigued to see Ash’s home. Did he spend most of his time here? So far, it didn’t appear particularly cozy. She glanced at the others to see what they thought about the idea. Ryan shrugged. Graham was still staring around him, not appearing too bothered by his location, but she’d already guessed he must be aware of what went on at the Order.
“Lead the way,” Tara said.
The woman spun on her heel and stalked away. They shuffled after her. She was dressed like a female version of Ash in his bad-ass gear but her leather pants were way tighter as though she’d been shrink-wrapped into them. She wore a scarlet shirt on top, tied in a knot at her middle, and knee-high black boots with four-inch heels. Her long black hair hung to her waist. Faith didn’t like her, but decided not to analyze the reaction to closely.
“Who is she?” she whispered to Tara as they followed her through an archway and down a wide corridor. The walls were stone, the floors flag-stoned and cool against her bare feet. She hadn’t bothered to put her shoes on, but then she had been thinking of other things at the time—like that the whole building was shaking and it had nothing to do with the mind-blowing orgasm she’d just experienced.
“Her name is Shera. Roz knows her quite well—apparently she’s a complete bitch.”
“But what does she do?”
Tara cast her an amused sideways glance. “Well, according to Roz she doesn’t sleep with my father if that’s any help.”
Actually, it was, but she wasn’t going to admit to that. “Anything else?”
“She’s his sort of assistant/housekeeper. And she’s a cat.”
“A cat?”
“A shape-shifter.”
Faith’s feet stopped moving, and Ryan bumped into her. “Sorry,” she muttered. She could do this. “Is that like a werewolf?” She was proud of how cool she sounded. Then she remembered something she had read in the files at MI13 and totally discounted at the time. “Hey, is Carl a werewolf?”
“Yes,” Tara replied. “He is. And no, a shape-shifter is different. Werewolves are born human—they have to be attacked by a werewolf to turn into one. Shape-shifters are born that way.”
“Oh my God. You’re Ash’s daughter that makes you half…” Faith trailed off. Shit, she still couldn’t say it. She’d have to practice. Something else to do when she was alone.
Tara laughed, then sobered up. “It’s a lot to take in. You’re actually doing really well.”
“Nah. I’m in complete denial. Hey, do you do that wing thing and shoot up to seven feet?”
“I wish. Though actually, I’m still discovering what I am and what I can do.”
“I take it your mother was human?”
“No. she was fae. She died when I was born.”
“Okay. Fae. So have I met any of those?”