Free The Naphil's Kiss by Simone Beaudelaire Page B

said softly, but Mr. Smith saw the flash of rebellious stubbornness in those unsettling green orbs. This wasn't over, and they both knew it.
    ***
    Josiah peeked out into the hallway. It was empty. Thank God. Mr. Smith was gone. He didn't want to see the old bastard ever again. He tiptoed down to the right. Something tickled his cheek and he swiped his sleeve over impatiently. Damn it, he wasn't going to cry. Another tear followed the first one instantly. Then another. Josiah drew in shaky, unsettled breaths as he made his way to the Naphil dormitory. He needed his father. He threw open the door, desperate to speak with Lucien.
    Empty. Josiah closed his eyes, his head falling forward against the wood, his shoulders sagging. He'd forgotten. All the Nephilim had been sent out on a huge mission to eliminate a nest of succubae in Los Angeles. His father was gone. Humiliated, heartbroken, and despairing, he'd been left completely alone.

Part III

Chapter 13
    Las Vegas 1999
    The Assassin crept from shadow to shadow, not as invisible as the Nephilim, but as undetectable as a highly trained human could be. The small figure crouched behind an abandoned blue sedan. The uniform concealing the identity was designed to resemble the ninjas of bygone centuries, but it was white, not black. Only a pair of brown eyes showed above the face mask.
    The figure crept out from behind the car in hot pursuit of the heat shimmer which signified a half-angel was on the hunt.
    It was not strictly necessary for The Assassin to hide. In this strange town, a person dressed in a white ninja costume would attract very little attention. It would simply be assumed to be part of a stage show or publicity stunt.
    Here in the desert, any shimmering on the city streets were dismissed as tricks of the heat, or of the neon lights which altered the environment at all hours.
    The Assassin was fairly sure which Naphil was under surveillance tonight. The big black half-angel Lucien had been sent to roust out a nest of succubae who were hidden inside a brothel which masqueraded as a strip club.
    Intelligence suggested at least five demonesses were hiding inside the building. It would be a lot for the Naphil to handle alone, and it had been decided that backup was required. He would not be thankful, but the command had been unequivocal.
    Arriving at the club, The Assassin slipped through the door, unnoticed by a burly blond-haired bouncer with the bulging muscles. It seemed he had been selected for show more than intelligence or skill.
    Inside the dim interior, it was easier to track the shimmer past the dance floor, where three women and a succubus were twisting, half-naked, around poles embedded in the floor and ceiling. The Naphil progressed through a beaded curtain, to a back room where men sat on chairs while naked girls squirmed and twisted on their laps. In the corner, one overweight succubus soaked in the lust. So immersed was she in the spectacle of the lap dancers that she did not recognize the angelic being in front of her until it was too late.
    The lights dimmed as the sword, cleverly concealed in the fluorescent lighting, thrust into her bloated belly. A shriek, perceived as the squeal of brakes by mortals, pierced the night.
    Without pausing, the Naphil moved on, past a doorway with a sign reading
employees only
. The Assassin sneaked through just as the door swung shut. Inside were five beds. In three of them, succubae were feeding on the lust of men with whom they were copulating. These demonesses were more alert than their friend had been, and they quickly abandoned their prey, converging on three sides of the angel warrior, claws and fangs extended.
    The Naphil materialized. As The Assassin had suspected, it was Lucien. His sword flashed, but the wary, serpentine women dodged his parries, ducking in to slash at him while his attention was diverted. It was quickly becoming obvious he would need assistance.
    The three men lay on the beds all but dead,