Dark Angel Page 4

  “You’re sure?” Danto’s gaze flicked to me for a second, and I didn’t like the hint of madness I saw in his eyes nor the sweat that beaded on his forehead. A sweaty vampire was never good unless you were in bed with him.

  I swallowed. “Positive. It’s Lucian,” I answered. I saw Danto clench his jaw because it was the only logical explanation. “We need to find her before he tricks her into taking his gift.”

  “I thought you said he can only transfer the gift to you willingly,” inquired the cat. Danto’s brows shifted, giving me the impression he was about to ask the same question.

  I glanced down at the cat. “He never said he couldn’t trick me. And he never said it had to be with the real him either. If he’s using some kind of glamour to look like Danto, she won’t know who he is until she takes the gift. And then it’ll be too late.”

  Danto’s breath hissed out. I could see the anger in his posture, but there was also fear in the depths of his soul—fear he would lose Layla to some darkness he could never defeat, and fear he couldn’t save her.

  He should be afraid. Layla with the darkness in her was a terrifying idea. Magnificent, but terrifying.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  Danto flicked his attention back to the road. He shifted in his seat, his movements sharp and stiff. He was losing it. He was usually confident and secure in his mind… if you didn’t take into account the months of brooding after he lost Cindy. He looked like hell, like he was fighting some internal battle and losing. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to my vampire friend if he lost Layla too.

  I bit my bottom lip, my mind numb with fear and guilt. Why hadn’t I sensed that the Danto at the pub wasn’t the real Danto? Why couldn’t I tell it was Lucian sitting across from me and not my vampire friend? He’d been so silent, reserved, but his eyes always calculating. I’d sensed something was off, but I couldn’t make the connection. I’d seen the new polished shoes on his feet. And like a fool, I had thought nothing of it. Rowyn, you idiot.

  Now Layla was missing.

  Despite Danto’s efforts to call her that would make any stalker proud, her phone went to voicemail each time. And each time, my fear cemented deeper in my gut until it hurt. Not Layla…

  Stomach acid bubbled up, and I swallowed it down. I felt a sudden deep hatred for the angel Legion. If only they’d agreed to help me, none of this would be happening. Layla would be safe with the real Danto. But now… who knew where she was. She could be anywhere.

  This was a freaking disaster. It was my worst fear coming to bite me in the ass, hard, and with teeth like a Great White shark.

  The Legion hadn’t cared enough to view my case as a real threat. Layla and I weren’t important. We were sullied by our demon blood. We were at the bottom of the slush pile, forgotten like a bad manuscript.

  I hoped for the Legion’s sake I never crossed paths with another angel again. Because if I did, I was going to shred them into glowsticks.

  With a nauseating suddenness, my anger coated my soul in a choking layer of fear and vengefulness. Damn you, Lucian. Damn you.

  “What do we do if we find Danto’s doppelganger?” asked Tyrius, his whiskers dropping as he frowned.

  “We kick his archdemon ass all the way back to the Netherworld.” My lips curled to a smile at the pleasant thought. That would be awesome.

  Tyrius’s eyes were wide and uncertain. “And we know how to do this?”

  No . My jaw clenched and my breathing increased as I fought to come up with a solution that didn’t involve getting us all killed, but I found none. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “You better hurry up with that crazy-ass plan.” Tyrius shifted his weight on my lap. “But first we need to find her. Where do you think she is?”

  My chest clenched. “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe he took her to the Netherworld,” said Tyrius, and I looked at Danto. My heart squeezed at the pain I saw flash across his face. “Lucian did say your place was with him there. Right?” continued the cat. “In the Netherworld next to him. Maybe he took Layla there.”

  I brought my gaze back to the Siamese cat. “I don’t think so. Whatever he wanted me for, it was supposed to happen here. On this side of the planes, not the Netherworld. I’ll bet it’s the same for Layla,” I finished, hoping I was right.

  Tyrius’s face screwed up in a frown. “What’s his big plan then?”

  “Nothing good,” I sighed, my blood pressure rising. “Maybe to use her as a weapon? I’m not sure.” It was the only thing that made sense to me. Why else give that powerful gift if not to use it?

  “To kill angel souls,” prompted the cat. “Which you passed with flying colors, I might add. Though the last angel douche did off himself. Dumbass.”

  “That’s part of it,” I said, nodding my head as I saw the same witch pub as we darted by it yet again. We were going in circles. “But it’s more than that. I got the impression whatever he’s planning was something far greater. And worse. I’m thinking biblical proportions.”

  “You mean a war.” Danto cut a glance at me, and I stifled a shiver at his black eyes. Shit. He had vamped out.

  Tyrius whistled. “Now that’s messed up.”

  I shifted in my seat with Tyrius balancing on my lap. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Why go through all this just to kill a few angel souls? It doesn’t make any sense. He’s the king of the Netherworld. Right? Or something of that effect. What do kings do?”

  “They conquer,” replied the cat. “Conquer and kill. Sometimes they even reproduce.”

  “Exactly,” I said, getting a mental image of Lucian reproducing, which was foul, not to mention equally disturbing. “Lucian’s been brewing something in the Netherworld for years. He’s pissed. He wants out. And I think… me or Layla are the key.”

  “Demon balls,” cursed the cat, his tail flicking erratically. “That’s all we need right now, a celestial war.” He lay down on my lap. “But how can Lucian take on the entire Legion of halos with just one of you?”

  A strand of hair tickled my face and I wrapped it around the back of my ear. “I don’t know that yet. He’d planned it that way. Not with Layla at first. Now, maybe he’ll use us both.” All I knew for certain was when I’d mentioned to Lucian the Legion would stop him, he’d laughed it off like it was a joke. That conversation had never settled well with me. Whatever he was planning, he truly believed it could easily take down the Legion of angels. What could possibly do that? What was powerful enough to take down a Legion of angels? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  The brakes made a slow squeak as we stopped at a stop sign. Danto’s brow was furrowed, the lines making deep shadows on him and causing him to appear older.

  I fought off a feeling of desperation as I settled back in my seat. “Lucian is still in his vampire guise. Right? Which means he needs more time to convince her.”

  Tyrius’s whiskers flickered, his face worried. “He’s been with her all day. He’s had loads of time. God knows what else they’ve been doing with all that time.”

  I cringed, not wanting to look at Danto to see the fury I knew would be flashing in his black eyes. “She’s his daughter.”

  “Technically, she’s not,” corrected Tyrius, his ears perked up on his head. “Layla had a mother and a father. She was born to angel-born parents. The only connection she has to Lucian is through your blood, which was minimal and diluted at best. You, on the other hand, well, Lucian’s blood went directly into your blood. Making his paternal connection to you stronger than Layla’s—though still not a true biological one. It’s more like a mutated, supernatural DNA strand.”

  I felt sick. Lucian would do anything to get her to accept his gift. I was sure of it. Maybe that included sleeping with her in Danto’s meat suit. I stifled a shiver just thinking about it.

  “I don’t think Lucian’s been masquerading as Danto for very long,” I voiced, hoping I was right again. I drew myself up and felt Danto tense ne
xt to me. “For one, I don’t think he could pull it off for hours on end without Layla suspecting something was seriously off. She’s smarter than that. And second, as an archdemon, he had to wait for sundown before he could cross over to this world.”

  “Which wasn’t too long ago,” agreed Tyrius, his ears swiveling on the top of his head. He let out a sigh. “If you’re right, we might still have a chance to find him before he seduces Layla with the gift.”

  I felt a flicker of hope. Danto slowed the car to let a fae couple cross the street. He fidgeted, his eyes both worried and defiant.

  “If we’re lucky,” I said as the car sped up, “she’ll tell him to go screw himself when he reveals his true self.” I thought about it. “He’ll need to go somewhere quiet… where she feels safe. Somewhere he won’t be interrupted.” I looked at Danto, figuring that Lucian probably had been spying on him for a while and would know this. “If you were to guess… where do you think that would be?”

  A muscle feathered over the vampire’s jaw. He took a breath and let it out. “My place.” Tires screeching, he took the next left without slowing down, and I was thrown against the front passenger door, grabbing ahold of Tyrius before he flew out the window.

  Tyrius shrilled. “Are you mad! I’m small boned!”

  The cat was not impressed. But I wasn’t about to ask Danto to slow down again. Slowing down meant we could lose Layla. There was no way in hell I would let that happen. If I could sprout wings and get us there any faster, I would.

  The V-Lounge club was only a few minutes away by car from Mystic Quarter, being just on the outskirts of the paranormal district. The lights from oncoming traffic illuminated Danto’s face as we left Mystic Quarter behind and headed towards his club.

  “Hang on, Layla,” I whispered as the car lurched forward down the street.

  5

  You know that tickling precognition sensation you get when you come across that déjà vu moment? Scratch that. This, well, this belonged in the realms of the bizarre.

  We all stood in a large loft-like apartment above the V-Lounge club, seconds after Danto kicked the door open all with his vampire strength, causing it to go flying off its hinges with a bang. Where Gareth’s place was more rustic and traditional, this place was uber modern and sleek—a mix of metal and glass in floor-to-ceiling windows, polished gray concrete floors and black leather furniture.

  Sitting on one of the black sofas, clad in her red leather ensemble, was Layla.

  And sprawled next to her, with his hand over hers, was Danto—or rather, his doppelganger, the son-of-a-bitch archdemon, Lucian.

  I let out a breath. “Thank the souls. They still have their clothes on,” I whispered, not wanting Danto to hear. The thought of Lucian seducing Layla in that way had my beer and fries rising up at the back of my throat. That was just wrong.

  Danto moved with the graceful simplicity of a natural predator. Claws out, he stalked the room, his black eyes on Layla, and I could clearly see the relief there as well that she still had her clothes on. That red outfit didn’t come off or on that easily. I think some lubricant was involved.

  Layla was staring at us with a strange expression on her face, as though she was looking at something far away in the distance, not able to see it clearly.

  And Danto’s doppelganger, well, he just smiled with the warmth of a fish.

  Having two exact Dantos in the same room at the same time was mind-blowing.

  I’d seen twins before, even identical ones, and though identical, one was always taller, thinner, or had a rounder face while the other was more oval. There were small irregularities when you knew what to look for. You could always tell they were twins. Not doppelgangers.

  Doppelgangers were a misplaced knockoff of twins. They were more like clones, freakish, and all together wrong.

  “Why do I feel like I just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone ?” commented Tyrius, still wrapped around my shoulders like a thick scarf.

  “Maybe we have.”

  Tyrius was right. I was still a little put off with the two Dantos sharing space. I needed a drink.

  Adrenaline pumping, I yanked out a soul blade, though I wasn’t sure why. It’s not like it would do the archdemon any harm. But having it in my hand, its weight familiar, gave me the courage I needed to deal with this freak show.

  Danto-Lucian’s eyes flashed with an impatient look, and his smile turned into a clenching of teeth. “Rowyn. Why, this is a nice surprise.”

  He was pissed. Good. Relief spilled through me. He hadn’t transferred the gift yet. “A surprise yes,” I replied, “but I wouldn’t go as far as calling it nice.” I gave him my Colgate smile. “Hello, Daddy. Miss me? How about you drop the disguise. We all know who you are, Lucian .”

  Lucian’s expression flickered with annoyance, and I couldn’t shake how eerie it was for him to be wearing Danto’s face and body. This was all kinds of wrong.

  He sat with his legs crossed at the knee, his polished shoes gleaming in the loft light as he bounced his foot lightly. It was like he was trying to irritate me on purpose, showing off that he had fooled me. The real kicker was when he reached inside his pant pocket, pulled out his metal cigarette case, and lit one up.

  My lips curled into a snarl. “I’m going to make you eat that cigarette, you chain-smoking bastard,” I growled, letting out a tense breath, and Tyrius gave me an approving growl.

  Lucian’s voice came out tight and impatient. “What are you expecting here?” he asked and took a long drag of his cigarette.

  “What does it look like? It’s a rescue mission, dumbass,” came Tyrius’s voice as he leapt from my shoulders and landed on the floor. “Stick that up your demon ass and smoke it.”

  The cat placed himself on the ground facing Lucian, his body low, ears back and legs apart, like he was about to Hulk-out.

  “No one here requires any rescuing,” commented the Danto lookalike, gray smoke billowing out of his mouth.

  A ribbon of panic pulled though me and I took a slow breath, trying to ignore the loud pounding of my heart in my ears. He looked way too relaxed. I didn’t like this.

  “Layla,” urged Danto as he took a careful step forward and stretched out his hand. “Get away from him. He’s not me. He’s only just pretending to be me. Layla?”

  Layla’s eyes moved to the real Danto, her expression calm and distant. “Danto?”

  A breath of relief escaped the vampire. “Yes. It’s me.” He took another step closer. “Come to me. Come. Get away from him.”

  “But why would I do that?” asked Layla as she focused her full attention on the vampire, her expression empty of any emotion or spark of life. She was the complete opposite of the energized and colorful young women I’d grown to know. Oh, hell, this was bad.

  “Rowyn?” came Tyrius’s worried whisper, and I shook my head to tell him to wait. I knew Lucian wouldn’t hurt Layla. He still needed her. If the vampire could get her to come to him freely, we were golden.

  The vampire’s black eyes flicked to Lucian and then back to Layla, the strain over his body palpable. “Layla, please,” he pleaded, a hint of panic in his voice. “It’s me, Danto. I don’t know what’s he done to you… but you need to come with me now. He’s not who you think he is. He’s the archdemon Lucian. He’s just wearing my face.”

  “I know,” she said finally. The vampire’s mouth parted, his face a mask of horror.

  My legs buckled as I sucked in a breath. I met Danto-Lucian’s eyes as his smile widened and a chill went through me.

  Crapshit. We were too late. Layla had already accepted the gift. She had the darkness in her.

  Tyrius turned his eyes on me and cocked his head. “Looks like she already took the stupid pill.”

  Damn it. “Why can’t we ever catch a break,” I hissed.

  Danto-Lucian snapped his fingers. A black haze enveloped his body, and when it cleared, the Lucian I remembered appeared, wearing his signature navy pin-striped three-piece su
it. A tad dramatic in any other circumstance, but when you’ve got an archdemon as old as time in your apartment, nothing seems too over the top.

  “Much better,” he said as he took another drag of his cigarette, looking like a mobster from the 1920s. “The stink of half-breed vampire was giving me a headache.”

  A growl came from Danto. He was shaking. From the sweat that trickled down his forehead and temples, I knew he was about to do something stupid, like take on an archdemon on his own.

  Hell. I wasn’t about to lose him too. The last thing I needed was a dead vampire on my conscience.

  “Rowyn,” warned Tyrius. “You better do something before vamp-boy gets himself killed.”

  A pulse of adrenaline lit through me. She might have the gift, but she wasn’t under its control. Not yet. There was still time to reach out to her and pull her back to us.

  Danto’s stance shifted. He leaned forward, his weight on the balls of his feet, and he inched forward—

  I reached out and grabbed the vampire’s arm. “Don’t,” I warned as I yanked him back. “We can still draw her back.” The vampire looked crazed and it scared me. Was he even listening to reason? “Just… let me try something. Okay?”

  With my hand still on the vampire’s arm, I looked at Lucian. I didn’t like the fact that he was still sitting there, relaxed, like this was a house party and he was the billionaire, laidback host. Why wasn’t he trying to kill us? Why did he look like he was enjoying this far too much? I didn’t like it, but it gave me some time to try and coax Layla to come with us.

  “It doesn’t matter if I live or die,” rasped the vampire, his black eyes full of pain.

  I squeezed my grip harder on his arm until I was certain it was hurting him. “Like hell it doesn’t. It matters to me. You try anything stupid… and you’re dead. You hear me? You can’t help her if you’re dead.”

  “I have to save her.” Danto wasn’t listening. He was frantic, and I saw Layla scooting closer to Lucian with sly amusement. “I can’t lose her too… I can’t,” Danto rasped, his body clenching in pain. It was getting worse. He turned his head, his black eyes bright and fixed on mine. The hurt in him was obvious.