“I’m guessing you’re my contact, right?” the man said, revealing that he had a thick Australian accent.
Michael’s face had become unreadable. “Depends. What kind of information are you selling?”
The demon smirked. “We don’t discuss that until we discuss my fee.”
Michael cocked his head to the side. “What exactly is your fee?”
The man rolled his neck, the thin smirk elongating. “A fight.”
Michael stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing like a good scrap every now and then. I don’t really get one of good caliber these days. Humans are all soft little meat-jackets. Ya look like ya can put up a good one, for an angel,” he added, his upper lip curling with a sneer.
Michael’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything rude. “We don’t have time for this. There has to be something else you want.”
“Well…” The demon’s blue eyes fell on me and an unpleasant light flickered in them. “If ya don’t want to fight me, let me give ya girl here a kiss.”
In an instant, my spine stiffened. I sent him a nasty glare. “Trust me, you don’t want any of this, pal.”
He grinned. “I’ll be the judge of that, love.”
The demon reached for me. I went for the gun holstered at the small of my back, intending to draw and maybe blow off one of his toes, but Michael appeared between us in an instant.
“Touch her and I’ll feed you that hand finger by finger,” the archangel growled.
The demon laughed, an arrogant bray that echoed down the empty alley, and stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. “Now that’s more like it. Gimme a good fight and I’ll give ya the information. Deal?”
“Deal.” Michael shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the ground behind him, leaving him in a cream long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots. Except for his height, he didn’t seem all that scary until I noticed the murderous expression in his eyes.
I touched his arm, murmuring his name, and he glanced down at me. “You’re not fighting for my honor, y’know. Calm it down, pretty boy.”
His shoulders relaxed a little bit at the use of “pretty boy” and some of that righteous fury drained from his face.
“I know.”
“Good. Now be a dear and wipe the floor with this moron.”
Michael spared me a wicked but dazzling smirk. “Will do.”
The archangel straightened his posture as he turned to face the demon, who had shed his wrinkled outer shirt. He spread his legs in a wide stance and raised his fists to chest level.
“So who, exactly, do I have the honor of fighting today?”
Michael went with a side stance. “Michael.”
“Mm. I thought it was you. The pretty one.”
Michael’s jaw twitched again. I pressed my back to the wall, safely out of range of either man. I didn’t want to be anywhere near this demon when the archangel snapped.
“I’m not sure if you’ll be much of a threat without that fancy sword of yours, but let’s see what you’ve got.” The demon rushed him, turning into a t-shirt-clad blur, but his speed meant nothing. Michael brought his right foot around in a perfect spinning side kick—which struck the demon right in the nose and floored him in half a second. My jaw dropped. So did the demon’s.
He sputtered on the ground as blood blossomed from his nostrils down into his mouth, blue eyes wide with shock.
Michael lifted an eyebrow, his voice flat. “Was that an acceptable answer?”
The demon spat blood onto the ground and grinned, wiping his mouth clean with his forearm. “Ain’t that a bitch? First blood goes to the angel. Looks like Luka’s got his work cut out for him.”
“Maybe Luka should stop referring to himself in the third person before he gets kicked in the face again,” I said with a sweet smile.
He tossed a dirty look in my direction, which made me smile wider, and scrambled to his feet in an attempt to regain at least an ounce of dignity. Too late for that.
All at once, the demon seemed to change as he faced Michael this time. He rolled his shoulders, causing a few ligaments to crack, and resumed the stance he had before, but it was slightly different—more solid, more balanced, and definitely more serious.
He darted forward. Michael met him in mid-stride, blocking a vicious punch aimed at the angel’s throat. Michael grabbed Luka’s wrist with one hand and seized him beneath the arm, whirling and throwing him over his shoulder.