Free Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) by Debra Dunbar Page B

You’ve forced me into a difficult choice with your actions tonight. Unfortunate for me, deadly for you. Too bad.”
    He and the guards left the dungeon, and the vines binding me crumbled into dust. I breathed deep and tried to settle into a comfortable position. Whatever Feille had planned for me wasn’t worrying me at the moment. I’d bought myself the time I needed by killing his sorcerer; now I needed to figure out how to get out of here—which wasn’t going to be easy broken, injured, and with this damned collar around my neck keeping me from using even the small amount of demon skills I’d managed to recover. But as that ballsy southern woman had once said; tomorrow was another day.

8
    G abriel nudged an old banana peel with his toe. This kind of back alley thing was far beyond what any angel should have to experience. He hated being this close to the humans, so near their areas of commerce. He’d thought about rejecting the odd invitation, debated whether accepting showed an unseemly desperation, or revealed his willingness to move beyond his comfort zone to entertain the interesting proposal. Was this something he wanted to consider personally? Not that it mattered. He still had a duty to make sure nothing about this secretive enterprise violated angelic law or jeopardized their vibration levels.
    He’d been running in circles, trying to get to the bottom of the two deaths, all for nothing. Ruling Council meetings had been suspended indefinitely; the reports from his eldest brother were far overdue. For an immortal, two months should be a wisp of time, but patience never came easy to Gabriel. Especially this past year, when it seemed every second dragged on like eternity. He was at a frustratingly dead end with the matter of the deceased angels, but this was something he could turn his attention to.
    “Exalted one.”
    The voice came from behind him, down the alley, to the left. Gabriel didn’t turn around. An angel of his status didn’t greet others this far down the hierarchy.
    “I regret that a lowly being such as I has been sent to speak with you, but you must understand that in matters as sensitive as this, discretion and secrecy are necessary.”
    Gabriel gave a sharp nod, refusing to face or speak to the angel.
    “We have heard that you may share longings in common with some of us. Longings that we are hoping to alleviate.”
    Gabriel hesitated, finally turning around. In order to find out if these angels were behaving lawfully, it might be best to pose as a potential client. But a conversation about his having a burning desire to create wouldn’t be suitable with such a lowly angel as this. Why had they sent him? Was this an insult, or were they just being cautious, as he claimed?
    “Speak plainly,” Gabriel barked out, deciding to go for ‘insulted’. “I have no time for double talk.”
    A figure emerged from the shadows. Gabriel didn’t recognize him, and there was nothing to indicate which choir he belonged to—just a low-level angel, nervously shuffling his feet as he approached.
    “There are some who have taken on a project that will result in angels being able to procreate.”
    “If you’re trying to sway my vote on the issues of Nephilim, you’re wasting your time,” Gabriel warned.
    “No, no,” the angel waved his hands. “My superiors would never condone breeding with human females. They seek to find a way to increase the angelic ranks.”
    “That’s impossible. We’ve had a complete separation of our kind. Breeding would violate our treaty. Such contact with demons is not allowed.”
    “We would never promote such a thing.” The angel waved his hand as if clearing the air of such thoughts. “This would not involve any relations that would compromise your vow following the war. There need be no contact with them at all.”
    Gabriel pondered his words, glancing out of the filthy alley into the sunlit street beyond. “An immaculate conception,” he mused.
    “Yes,