Free Touch of the Demon by Christina Phillips Page A

gave a mirthless grin, which a
millennia ago had possessed the power to terrify a human into an
incoherent wreck.
    “You honestly
think humans stand a chance?”
    He’d never
given the possibility serious consideration before, when it
appeared inevitable that sooner or later the gods would win. In
fact, despite his aversion to their species, he’d occasionally
admired the humans for the way they were finally standing up for
their rights against their masters.
    Still, there
was a limit. If humans truly did manage to subdue the gods, who was
to say they wouldn’t then set their sights on enslaving the
angels?
    “Stand a
chance?” Mammon raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Of course I don’t.
Not by themselves. But if you recall, Rafe, I’ve never believed the
humans were working by themselves.”
    Rafe conceded
that point. Mammon’s interest in this particular battle had always
bordered on obsession.
    He narrowed his
eyes, suddenly convinced Mammon had uncovered the answer to his
personal fixation. “How the hell are the humans managing to
outwit the gods?”
    “That,” Mammon
said, “is the ultimate question.” He flung himself into Rafe’s
recently vacated chair. “Dark angels, unlike blinkered gods, are
willing to look at the impossible. And guess what, Rafe? We’ve
finally discovered the impossible.”
    The air
crackled with tension. A century ago, Rafe had been involved in the
covert mission to uncover how humans were managing to hold their
own against the gods. Although he might not have cared that they were , he’d been as curious as any of his brethren as to the how .
    But an
unscheduled screw with a Siren had finished his involvement. What
good was an angel without his wings? And so he’d retired from the
game, and for the last twenty years had almost forgotten Mammon’s
driving desire to solve that particular mystery.
    He stared at
the other angel’s grim face, and a shuddering certainty surged
through him that his destiny balanced on whatever it was Mammon’s
spies had uncovered. “Which is?”
    Mammon was
silent for a moment. “The DNA of every human leader in the
rebellion is tainted. In other words, this rebellion started with
the infiltration of non-human blood into the species a millennium
ago.”
    “Non-human?”
Rafe frowned. “That’s not very specific. Humans have never been
fussy about what they fuck, so long as it possessed a pretty face.
Which god got careless?”
    Mammon waved an
impatient hand. “That’s not important. What is important is we’ve
pinpointed the exact moment of conception. The absolute second when
the tainted blood enters the human DNA strand.”
    “And you need
an assassin.” Rafe folded his arms. “Aren’t you forgetting
something, Mammon? I’ve been out of commission for the last ten
decades.”
    “You’re also
the best operative Legion has.”
    Rafe offered
Mammon an icy smile. “I don’t much like the sound of this mission.
Think I’ll pass.”
    Mammon returned
Rafe’s icy smile with interest. “It comes with fringe
benefits.”
    Rafe stilled.
“Go on.”
    “Undertake this
mission, and I’ll ensure the reinstatement of your wings.”
    The ice turned
to fire. “You have that power?” One hundred years ago, Rafe would
have pleasured the Great Earth Mother herself if it meant the
return of his wings, but Mammon had, with apparent regret, assured
him he was powerless to do anything to help.
    “Let’s say the
Siren in question became compromised. She had no choice but to
relinquish her prize to me.” Mammon allowed a smug smile to touch
his lips. “I thought you might need some persuasion. So, is it a
deal?”
    Rafe glowered.
“Sure, I’ll make a deal with the devil, Mammon. On one condition.
You give me my wings before I go into the breach.”
    Mammon
shrugged. “Done.” He paused for a moment and gave Rafe a
considering look. “There’s just one other thing you should know
about your mark. It’s only half human