“I didn’t anticipate Nyx would put us through that training so soon after I asked you to dinner,” he said. “I regret the delay. If you would allow, I plan to make it up to you.”
His voice was laden with unspoken things. It tasted of sweet seductions and wicked promises. My skin tingled with the magic of that promise, the promise of an angel who never went back on his word. He traced a trail of wildfire down my arm.
“How can I refuse an offer like that?” I said, my voice breaking.
He gave me a satisfied smile. He knew he had me. I could see it in his eyes, that arrogance tinted with a touch of naked vulnerability. Like I could penetrate the marble mask of the angel, like I could wound him with a single word. But I didn’t want to hurt him. I wanted to see those eyes burn with pleasure, not pain.
He kissed me again, his mouth coming down hard on mine. He wasn’t being gentle this time. He didn’t tease or taste; he devoured. Heat flashed through my body, a cascade of feverish sensations and hard, raw need. I grabbed his collar, pulling him against me.
Far too soon, he pulled back. “All in good time.” His hand lingered on my cheek for a final moment before he withdrew it too. “We have a job to do.”
His face had grown serious, cold. It was like a switch had flipped inside of him. The passionate lover was gone, leaving only the colonel.
“Get back to the others,” he said. “The train is coming up on Purgatory now.”
4
Cowboy Royalty
Drake gave me an amused look when I got back to the Legion’s carriage. “Did your boyfriend scold you?”
Several of our teammates snickered. I stuck my tongue out at them. I was mature like that.
“Colonel Windstriker sure was in a fury,” Monique Park commented, lifting her bag off the floor.
“I wonder why that is.” Claudia Vance winked at me, twirling the tip of her long blonde braid around her finger. It was a rather coy gesture from the Battle Maiden of New York, as some called her. Sergeant Vance was an interesting dichotomy, voluptuous curves and battle-hardened muscle all wrapped up into one person.
“He’s mad because I compelled the paranormal soldiers in the next carriage to give me all their angel cards,” I said.
“Those boys are playing Legion, are they?”
“Yes.” I reached down and pulled my new Nero card out of my boot.
Claudia looked at it, laughing. “The artist sure does know how to make an angel,” she purred, her tongue sliding slowly across her lips, her eyes tracing the illustration of Nero in a suit of sleek black leather.
“You going to screw him already or what, Leda?” Alec Morrows asked me.
Sergeant Morrows was one of the heavy hitters like Drake. Just last week, the two of them had taken on a whole pack of werewolves who’d broken the gods’ laws. Morrows was freakishly strong and tough as nails, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him tease me without retaliation.
I was just thinking up a juicy comeback, when Lieutenant Lawrence said, “Don’t encourage the poor girl, Morrows. She has no idea what she’s in for. Remember the shit storm that went down the last time Nero took a lover.” She simpered, her lips curling with vicious delight. “He left the poor girl a mess. She was so heartbroken that she transferred to Europe.”
The train coasted to a stop, and the doors slid open. Overhead, the chandelier crystals jingled in celebration of our arrival.
“I’m reminded of why I never liked that woman,” I whispered to Drake as Lieutenant Lawrence walked off the train.
“She’s just bitter. She spent years trying to get Colonel Windstriker’s attention with all kinds of crazy stunts, but he never gave her the time of day.” Claudia wrapped her arm around me, leading me toward the door. “And then you came along and had him wrapped around your finger by the end of the first day.”
“I wouldn’t say I have him wrapped around my finger.” If I had, I’d have been able to sweet-talk my way out of all those extra laps and pushups he liked to assign me when I gave him lip.
“Yes, there are better places to have an angel wrapped around you,” she said with a wink, then hurried ahead to walk beside her best friend Captain Somerset.
Drake and I were the last to step off the train. Well, I hadn’t seen Nero leave, but maybe he could teleport or at least make himself invisible. The spells of the higher angel echelons were a mystery to me—and to pretty much everyone else who wasn’t an angel.
Together with the others, Drake and I carried the Legion’s cargo off the train and loaded it into the big truck waiting in front of the station. By the time we were done, the truck was so full that there wasn’t space for any of us. We walked through the town, drawing stares and whispers as we made our way to the Legion office.
It had been five months since I’d been back home, but it felt like years. And not just because I was homesick. Something had happened to Purgatory in that half year, a decay, a corrosion that should have taken years rather than months. A trio of shady men, automatic rifles hidden away beneath their huge trench coats, stood outside the Witch’s Watering Hole. That was the last bar I’d gone to before leaving for New York. Purgatory was on the Frontier, so people had always walked around town with guns and knives. But not so many guns and knives—and not ones like those. They weren’t armed to defend themselves; they were armed to destroy life. I recognized the dark brown leather trench coats, heavy boots, and fedoras. These fellows belonged to Prince, one of the town’s district lords who fancied himself cowboy royalty.
They weren’t alone. I saw thugs from five distinct district lords. They were everywhere, more of them than ever before. They were in the restaurants, shops, and bars. Walking the streets like they owned them. There was a strange smell to the town, the smell of overpriced cologne, a deep musk lathered on to cover the stench of fear bleeding down the streets. But there was no scent, no matter how potent, that could cover fear. Fear was the basest of instincts, the strongest of scents. It permeated everything, a sickly sweat scent of overripe fruit spoiling in the summer sun.
“The town feels different,” I said quietly to Drake.
“Things change, Leda. It’s a natural part of life.”
“This change is for the worse. The town was never luxurious or shiny, but it was comforting. Like an old security blanket stained by twenty years of tears and sweat.”
“Security blanket? I prefer something with a bit more kick.” He tapped his crossbow. “I used this baby to clear Sapphire Point of winged serpent monsters.”
“That exact one?”
“The one and same. Fifty-two fiends, two hours, one man. A battle that will go down in the history books,” he declared, his eyes lifted in triumph, his voice soaring with nostalgia.
I grinned at him. “That’s just beautiful. Kind of sounds like the start of one of those horror movies Ivy likes.”
“Oh, no. This was better. Much better,” he replied seriously.
We stopped outside the Pilgrims’ temple of worship. The town’s Legion office was just a room inside that temple.