Untouchable Darkness (The Dark Ones Saga, #2)

Cassius’s grin widened. “I think I’ll enjoy this.” With a wave of his hand Alex’s voice was gone.

“Frozen voice box… it may take a few hours to thaw, if it ever does.”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“But all Sirens have are their voices and good looks!” Genesis argued from her spot in the hall.

Cassius’s eyes softened. “Perhaps he’ll learn to choose his words more wisely in the future then.”

Alex stomped out of the room, while Cassius faced everyone. “It seems that I am… restored.”

“How?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Sariel took pity on your weakness?”

“More like—” Cassius glanced back at me. “—I accomplished what I was sent to do as a human, and he restored me.”

“She’s trained?” Ethan nodded seemingly impressed. “Fantastic.”

“Yes,” I lied, and the air immediately turned bitter, while Cassius laughed inside my head. “But it might be good to get a few more sessions in this evening, just in case.”

“And by sessions you mean…” Ethan pointed between the two of us. “Never mind, don’t tell me.” He raised his hands above his head. “If you tell me the mental image will permanently ruin my existence.”

Genesis sighed behind him. “That’s so romantic though, don’t you think? That they’re finally together?”

A sudden wind whistled along the hall and swirled into the room.

“Sweet hell,” Ethan muttered as Cassius tossed clothes in my direction. The air had shifted.

“What?” I glanced around the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Angels,” Mason spat. “Or just one in particular. Seems he’s paying us a visit. Damn it, I only set the table for six. If he wants ham he’s shit out of luck.”

“Yes, because I’m sure that’s what’s on his mind,” Cassius hissed. “Ham!”

“Says the one who tried to chase a blue jay with his pitchfork!”

“I had no pitch fork!”

“Yes, a lament I’m quite familiar with.” Mason rolled his eyes. “If only I had a pitchfork, a bow and arrow, a gun, I could hunt my own meat. Thank God your appetite will disappear, I was afraid the goldfish was next.”

Cassius shared a glance with me. “We have gold fish?”

“Goldfish.” Genesis laughed. “Mason likes to see how long he can keep them alive.”

“So they’ve died before?” Cassius asked.

“It’s not like he revives them, just buys more.” Genesis shrugged. “Now, you both need…” She glanced down and coughed. “Clothes.”

Ethan was already stomping down the hall, most likely making Sariel aware that his sudden presence in his house wasn’t welcome.

“Cassius?”

He turned, his muscles rippling beneath his simple black T-shirt. As a human it had fit him perfectly. As an immortal, it was almost like his muscles were straining to break free. Give him a cape and he’d be able to star in the next Avengers movie, no problem.

“It’s about Alex. Look, I know he drives you crazy, he drives everyone crazy but… since Sariel is here, can you just… un-freeze him with your Dark Ones Mojo?”

Cassius tilted his head, a look of complete seriousness crossed his face. “Mojo?”

“You know.” I lifted my hand in the air and twisted as power swirled to my fingertips. “When you do that.”

“You have the power to do it, too.”

“I do?” I twirled my hand again, my fingertips heavy as if something needed to release from them.

Cassius crossed his arms. “Will it.”

I closed my eyes and flicked my wrist willing Alex to speak again.

“Son of a bitch!” Alex’s voice erupted from downstairs.

“Think it worked?” I laughed.

Alex cursed so loudly I was surprised Sariel didn’t silence him forever.

“A bit too well.” Cassius held out his hand. “Now, let’s go face Sariel.”

I sighed. “You think he’s going to be angry.”

Cassius didn’t answer right away. “I think that I often under estimate Sariel…”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I never know.” Cassius led me down the stairs. “Until the exact moment it happens.”





Cassius



HE WAS GOING TO be angry.

I knew it in the way the tense air pumped around me, fanned, as if Sariel’s feathers were flapping against the air—assaulting would be a more accurate word.

I clutched Stephanie’s hand as we entered the kitchen.

Had Sariel’s face not been void of any sort of happy emotion or amusement, it would have been funny, seeing an Angel seated at the kitchen table, tapping his rather large fingertips against the wood table only to get agitated and take a sip of coffee then shiver as if the taste not only repulsed him but offended every fiber of his being.

Purple and blue feathers shuddered, as if they, too, experienced the taste of the coffee and found it lacking.

Mason’s jaw ticked as he braced himself against the counter, his muscles bulging with the need to fight and protect his family.

The only family the Wolf had.