September Moon (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #8)

“I don’t know,” Falon said with a shrug. “Be a hero. Show up. Save the day. That kind of crap. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? I’m sure you’ll think of something.”


Like so many times before this, I wanted to bitch slap the arrogant fallen angel. His snarky tone and derogatory stare really got my wolf riled up. “You could be trying to lure me there so Shya doesn’t have to drag me kicking and screaming. This could just be a ploy to have me walk into a trap willingly.” I searched him for a lie, but it was impossible to tell with him.

Rolling his eyes, Falon sighed dramatically. “What fun would that be? I’d much rather see you kicking and screaming.”

I looked from one angel to the other. “Why tell me this and risk pissing off Shya?”

Falon reached out and gave me a pat on the head, like one would a small puppy. “There, there, little wolf. Don’t strain yourself trying to figure me out. Save your energy. You’re going to need it.”

He turned away, and I grabbed for him with a desperation I hadn’t known I possessed. I clutched nothing but air as he easily avoided my grasp.

“How did you find me?” I settled for the simplest question of the many storming through my head.

“I’ve been following you since you left your nightclub to come here. I wanted to see where you were headed before I revealed myself.” A creepy chuckle accompanied his admission.

“Falon, you really suck, you know that? How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I would never trust Falon. Everything he said and did was to serve a purpose, usually his own. Even his role as Shya’s second was suspicious.

“They’re at Shya’s house. Go and see for yourself.”

Before I could grill Falon further, he opened the door and swept out of the building with supernatural grace. He vanished from one step to the next.

Closing my eyes, I reached out to Arys, opening the mental door between us. My thoughts formed a question, and I waited impatiently for a response. There was resistance. Arys didn’t want to let me in.

‘It’s not a good time, Alexa.’ Uncertainty laced Arys’s thoughts. ‘Stay with Willow. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.’

He shut me out before I could slam him with my protests. I’d done it to him as well, though that never made it any easier to have it done to me. It made me feel powerless and isolated.

I turned to Willow, feeling the color drain from my face. “I have to go to Shya’s.”

Willow nodded and gestured for me to exit first. “Let’s go.”

“How?” I shouted when we were in the car. I needed to vent out some of the built up emotion testing my limits. “How can he know that stuff? Do you think he’s lying?”

There was a loud honk from the car behind me as I slid into his lane a little closer than intended. I didn’t doubt that a middle finger had accompanied that horn. But I wasn’t paying attention to stuff like that. I needed to get to Shya’s. His house was outside the city, far enough that nobody could hear the inevitable screams. It was a sprawling modern manor with a backyard pool and way too much white décor. I hated it.

“You did say he was Lilah’s lover,” Willow pointed out, maintaining a sense of calm that I had long since abandoned. “Sure, he could be lying, though I’m not sure it’s likely. Perhaps he’s loyal to Lilah even now that she’s in lock up. Maybe his goal is to thwart Shya’s plans for greater power.”

“Why though?” I shook my head, trying to figure out Falon’s game plan. “That just doesn’t make sense. When Lilah was holding my sister and Gabriel hostage, it was Falon who double-crossed her. He was still working with Shya.”

“Was he though? Or would he have wanted it to appear that way?” Willow fiddled with the radio, stopping on the local country station. “That’s the thing about the fallen. They’re as unpredictable as demons. More so. At least with a demon you know where they stand.”

The strains of a whiskey-swilling, ex-hating, truck-driving country song filled the car. I cast a quizzical glance at Willow. He had just spoken of fallen angels as if he was not one of them, which made me sad for him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said without ever meeting my eyes. “I can feel you pitying me. Believe me, that is the last emotion I want from you.”

“Sorry.” Eyes back on the road, I cringed and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “I never meant to. I mean, you know I don’t pity you, Willow. It just saddens me, you know, everything you’ve been through.”

“Forget it. Really. It’s nothing compared to what many face.”