Had anyone else ever stood up to Sammael before? Marna didn’t think so. If they had, those folks hadn’t exactly lived to tell the story.
Sammael threw back his head and laughed. Wait, laughed?
Tanner wasn’t laughing with him.
“I like you, shifter,” Sammael said once he’d gained control of himself. It looked like Seline might have pinched him. “You’re not afraid to piss off Death.”
No, he wasn’t.
Marna cleared her throat. “Can we get back to the Touch?” Or did they just want to fill the room with more supernatural testosterone? From where she stood, there was already plenty of that in the place. Enough to choke her and Seline.
Sammael gave a slow nod. “So you want to be able to kill demons.”
“But what if a demon isn’t the one . . . ah . . .” Seline cleared her throat and finished, “. . . stealing faces?”
“Demons can work glamour like no one else,” Tanner said. “It has to be one of them. No one else can—”
But Sammael had turned to glance first at Seline, then at Marna. His brows lowered as he studied her. “Why haven’t you told him?”
She stared back at him, lost. There was nothing to tell.
“Marna . . .” Sammael sighed her name as if she were a naughty child. To one as ancient as he, maybe she was. “You and I both know that demons aren’t the only ones who can change their forms.” Then his gaze turned back to Tanner. “Surely you’ve heard the legends about demons, about how they first came to be.”
Tanner’s back was to the tinted glass and the throng of dancers. “They were descended from the Fallen.”
“Um . . . yes, and so where do you think that handy glamour magic first came from, huh?” He waited a beat, then said, “Angels. They’re the ones who mastered glamour long before any demons walked the earth. Angels can steal faces, too.”
Cody hurried down the darkened street. His neck had healed, but his gut twisted with every step he took. Another demon in New Orleans who could steal faces? How the hell had he missed that?
He’d always thought he was alone. A freak, even among demons. Others of his kind could stir powerful magic. Control the minds of humans. Not him.
His father had once said that he was a curse. Unable to shift into the powerful form of a panther, what good had he been? His father had laughed and mocked him for only being able to shift his physical appearance so that he looked like humans.
“Fucking useless. Should have killed you the first day I realized the panther didn’t live inside of you.” His father’s words rang in his ears.
And the bastard had tried to kill him. He would have succeeded, if Tanner hadn’t been there. Jumping in, taking those blows and the slices from their father’s claws.
Tanner had saved him more times than Cody could count. And Cody would not fail him now.
He could do this. He could find the other freak and—
A footstep shuffled lightly behind him. Cody spun around. He didn’t have senses as strong as a regular shifter. Another f**king failure. He’d been caught unaware too many times before.
But no one was there.
His gaze swept the alley. Left to right. In the distance, he could hear the sound of laughter. Catcalls. Drunken voices. He wasn’t headed to Bourbon Street. The crowd he looked for would be hiding in the deeper parts of the city. The darker parts that humans always stayed away from, as if sensing the danger.
Some animal instincts existed even within pureblood humans. Smart humans didn’t ignore those instincts.
He turned around, hunched his shoulders, and picked up his pace. He’d search as many demon bars as he could. Money talked in this town, and thanks to that angel blood, he had plenty of cash.
If there was another freak out there, he’d find him.
Cody rounded the corner. He had to cross through another dark, tight stretch of alley space. Then he’d be at the first bar. Maybe he’d get lucky, maybe—
The whisper of a footstep behind him had Cody tensing. He whirled around.
Not alone this time.
A figure stepped from the shadows. A figure with hulking shoulders. Matted, dark hair, and a face that still chased Cody in his nightmares.
“Hello, son,” his father said, as he raised a claw-tipped hand. “It’s been too long.”
Tanner stared at Sammael, body tensed. The Fallen looked too confident. Far too cocky. He’d never trusted this guy—because Tanner wasn’t an idiot.
And now Sammael—Sam—was smiling at Marna.
“Her blue eyes are so pretty, aren’t they? It would seem that most angels have blue eyes.” Sam tapped his chin. “That’s a lie of course.”
“Angels can’t lie—” Marna began.
But Sam just laughed. “When the emotions get strong enough, when you lose that last thread of control inside yourself, the glamour that’s been in place since the moment you were created will falter. Your shifter . . .” Sam waved toward Tanner. “He’ll look into your eyes and see the darkness that all angels try so hard to hide.”
But Tanner wasn’t looking into Marna’s eyes. He was staring at Sam, and as he stared, Sam’s eyes began to darken. Dark. Darker. Until . . .
They were as black as a demon’s eyes.
“The apple really doesn’t fall so far from the poisoned tree,” Sam murmured.
Seline frowned at him. “Sam, we’ve been over this. You aren’t evil.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Right. I’m just not good, either.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “Most angels are like me, a mix of the two. So much power, bottled up inside, waiting to explode.”
The more Tanner learned about angels, the less he liked. Weren’t there already enough monsters in the world? Monsters like me.
Couldn’t the angels have just been the good guys, for once? He had to kick vampire ass. Demon ass. Now angel ass? There were so many jerks to get in line to meet his claws.
“Different demons have different powers,” Tanner said, trying to puzzle this mess out. “My brother . . .”
Sam leaned forward. “Yes, let’s hear more about him. I’ve been so curious.” A dangerous edge had entered his voice. “Three brothers. One half angel. One half demon. And then there’s . . . you.”
Tanner straightened his shoulders. “You stay the hell away from my brother, understand?”
Sam didn’t appear intimidated. He would be—once Tanner had his claws at the guy’s neck.