His fingers rose and pressed lightly against her eyelids. There wasn’t anything else she needed to see in this world.
“Sam?” Seline’s hesitant voice.
He stared down at Anthea. The tear tracks and blood looked vile against her light coffee skin. “She fell in love with a human, and she chose to fall.” I know love, Sam. I finally know what it feels like. He shoved aside the memory of her voice. “All she wanted was to live with him.”
Live with him. Die with him.
She had.
Sam gazed at the marks on her body, forcing himself to see past the fury. Those deep gouges and slashes looked somehow . . . familiar. “You didn’t deserve this,” he whispered to her. Of all the Fallen he had ever met, Anthea had been the kindest.
She’d deserved this death the least. I will find him. I will make him pay.
Anthea would be avenged. Death wouldn’t come easily to Anthea’s killer.
It hadn’t come easily to her.
“Sam, the guy’s neck is broken. Whoever did this—they made his death quick.”
He rose and let the rage build. “Because Ron was just a human.” Collateral damage. In order to hurt Anthea, they’d taken her heart . . . not just the one that beat in her chest.
Seline’s face was pale as her stare darted around the room. “I swear those marks look like they were made by a shifter.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“I was sent after a wolf shifter once.” She pushed back her hair and swallowed. “He’d gone Lone. He’d killed about five women. With every attack, he went right for their throats. The guy just . . . tore them open.”
His gaze returned to the marks on Anthea’s body. Those claw marks were too big to have come from a wolf.
But another shifter . . . perhaps. While no mortal weapon could kill a Fallen, a shifter’s claws would sure be able to get the job done.
Except Az wasn’t a shifter.
Sam carefully skirted around Anthea’s body. When he heard Seline’s sharp inhalation, he knew that she’d seen the bloody letters written on the floor.
Fallen.
“Are there more?” Seline asked, rubbing her arms. “Are there more Fallen close by? Dammit, you know this is a pattern of attack. He’s taking them out! Any Fallen around here is prey for him.”
“I’m Fallen.” He took her arm and pulled her toward the door. He wasn’t just going to leave Anthea’s body sprawled and broken like that. Screw the cleanup team. He’d handle things his way. No one would touch her again.
“Yeah, but you aren’t exactly low on power.”
No, he wasn’t like the two dead messenger angels—Omayo and Anthea had both been messengers.. Messengers couldn’t touch and kill. They couldn’t bind humans. Couldn’t punish at will.
They just made sure that orders were carried out. Last requests granted. Peace given to the departed.
As far as Fallen prey was concerned . . . the messengers never had a chance.
His fingers threaded with Seline’s. “There’s a little rule about Fallen . . .” A rule not many knew.
Seline frowned as they walked slowly outside.
About ten feet away from the entrance to Anthea’s place, Sam turned back and stared at the house. The home next to
Anthea’s was empty. No cars in the drive, no one there to hear Anthea’s screams. He knew that she’d screamed. Anthea wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.
“What rule?” Seline’s worried gaze swept the street.
“If you kill a Fallen, you get his power.” A nice little bonus rush that could be quite addictive to some.
Had Az discovered that addiction?
Some vampires were hooked on angel blood because that rush could be tasted. And for those who killed Fallen, there was nothing quite like that psychic blast to amp up your power. The blast hit the person closest to the Fallen at the moment of death.
Whoever had attacked Anthea had been forced to leave before the job was finished. Because you heard me coming? Yeah, he bet the ass**le was close by, watching him and cursing because Sam was the one with Anthea’s power.
Power he didn’t want.
He pulled Seline to the edge of the sidewalk. Then he stared at the house.
Good-bye, Anthea.
The house exploded in a ball of flames.
Rogziel perched on top of the brick house, his gaze on the fire trucks and humans who swarmed below. He’d followed the fire trucks and the cop cars. He’d suspected they would take him to his prey.
Not many would dare to light the sky this way. The smoke from the inferno drifted high, so high, into the sky. Like a giant black fist striking out at heaven.