Free Death's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels by Heather Killough-Walden

act before a fourth voice rang out through the room.
    “Wrong,” it said calmly. “As luck would have it, this is only the beginning for Marcus.”
    There were several flashes of light so bright that Marcus was forced to shield his eyes from the blinding pain they caused. Something solid hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him violently back into the wall. He hit it hard and slid to the floor, trying to clear his head. Stars swam before his closed lids.
    On the other side of those lids, there were more flashes—and the sounds of a horrible struggle. Growls and grunts of pain filled the small space—terrible, nightmarish sounds that would have haunted a mortal soul.
    Marcus forced his eyes open. But just as he did, the air shifted a final time. He blinked and lowered his arm. Aarix and Darion were prone, their bodies spread across the floor, both severely wounded. Their blood covered the walls and the beige carpet of the girl’s bedroom. The smell of acid and smoke filled Marcus’s nostrils. The fallen soldiers of Hesperos’s army were there on the floor one moment, and then, with what was most likely the last of their strength, they transported away. Their bodies wavered and warped for a second—and were gone.
    Marcus swallowed hard. A lump filled his throat. It was a lump of cold, hard fear. Beside the spaces where Aarix and Darion had once been stood two other men. They wore jeans and leather jackets, but their boots and the leather of their coats were encrusted with what Marcus knew were very real gems. The stones glittered in the moonlight coming through the girl’s blinds.
    “My employer is a fan of your work,” came a calm voice beside Marcus. He blinked and looked up. Beside him stood an average-looking man with thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a suit. “He would like a word with you,” the man continued. “He may have use for your particular talents.”
    Marcus forced himself to focus. He pressed his palms to the wall behind him and pushed himself to his feet. At his height, he was a good seven inches taller than the man who spoke to him. But the man seemed completely unbothered by this.
    “In the meantime,” the man continued, stepping past Marcus to make his way to the bed, where the teenage girl still lay in her enchanted sleep. “We will be taking this one along with us as well.” He stopped and stared down at the girl, taking in her peaceful form with not a single show of emotion.
    “Who are you?” Marcus asked. Concern for the girl niggled at him. But confusion was winning out. “Who the hell is your employer?” It would take someone very dangerous and very powerful indeed to control the men who stood behind Marcus. He knew what they were. Marcus glanced nervously over his shoulder at the leather-and-gem-clad men. His skin broke out in goose bumps.
    “You’ll see soon enough,” came the enigmatic reply. And then the man turned and nodded toward the two behind Marcus. “Bring her,” he instructed. The men didn’t speak, but instead moved to stand beside the bed. One of them bent and lifted the girl easily into his arms.
    Marcus’s breath caught. His concern for the young woman blossomed into real fear.
    “Don’t worry,” the bespectacled man said, noting the agitation in Marcus’s expression. He smiled a strange, tight smile and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “In all probability, she’ll live to see the morning.”

Chapter Five
    S ophie sat back in the metal folding chair at her desk in her apartment and popped open her laptop. In a way, it felt good to get back to a sense of normalcy after traveling. Though she had to admit that this time it was easier than it usually was, since she’d been granted the use of the archangels’ mansion to get back to Pittsburgh. Talk about taking a few hours off of your travel time. Still, there were some things she needed to take care of, and the sooner the better.
    She soon had the computer up and running and had