Archangel's Viper

Pulse thudding hard in his neck as he rose to his full height, the butler swallowed. “Perhaps you’d like to leave a card?”

“Perhaps you’d like to tell your master to meet us in two minutes or we’ll be leaving here with his head and no other part of him.”

Going paler, if that was even possible, the butler said, “Of course, sir. Please wait in the living area.” He waved to their right.

15

Venom prowled into the room as the butler scuttled away. He was aware of Holly shooting him a sideways look, but there was no fear in her, only a slight glee. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“The butler has a repugnant taste for young flesh.”

“Ugh. How come old vampires are so creepy?”

“I’ll ask Dmitri.”

“I’ll punch you if you so much as mention that question to him,” Holly threatened. “I don’t mean Dmitri or Trace or other sane vampires. I mean the creepy ones that just get off on pain and ugliness.” She poked at an ornate gold cushion edged with thick black satin rope. “Money clearly doesn’t buy style.”

Venom watched her take a seat on the equally ornate sofa, a small and deadly woman with acid green eyes who crossed her legs and watched the doorway. Her intense focus would surely terrify Kenasha. Amused by the idea, Venom moved to the left, so that Holly was who Kenasha would see when he walked in.

That happened moments later, the short and thickly built angel blustering in. It really took a lot of work for an angel to make himself unattractive—the angelic race was extraordinarily beautiful. So beautiful that an angel could still sometimes stop Venom’s breath. He didn’t want to own an angel as some vampires coveted. He didn’t even want to sleep with one—he’d been there, done that, but he could admire their sheer physical beauty the same way he could a stunning work of art.

Kenasha, however, bucked the trend. His body was flaccid and without shape—and fat on an angel took serious commitment, as flight burned so much energy. His hair was a blond pompadour that might’ve been in style a few centuries back, but even then wouldn’t have suited his round face.

His wings were patchy. In the three hundred and fifty years or so since Venom became a vampire, he’d never seen such a sight. The only times he’d observed angels missing feathers had been after an accident when they’d lost part of their wing and the feathers were in the process of regenerating. Kenasha, by contrast, appeared as if he’d fallen victim to a disease that was causing his feathers to waste away and drop off.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the angel said in an exaggeratedly angry voice before freezing as his eyes landed on Holly. “Who are you?” It came out slightly squeaky.

Holly smiled slowly and didn’t move a muscle. “Holly. And I really want to claw out your eyes, then crush your glistening eyeballs under the heel of my boot.” Her smile never faded.

Kenasha gulped and took a stumbling step backward.

It took effort for Venom not to laugh. Keeping his expression impassive only through centuries of experience, he stepped out of the shadows. Kenasha swayed on his feet at first sight of Venom, though his wraith of a butler had to have clued him in as to the identity of his visitor.

“We have something to discuss,” Venom said mildly. “You should sit.”

The angel didn’t argue, instead sinking into a large armchair that was a catastrophe of dark red and yellow and green. Ugly. Really ugly. Just like the being who occupied it—and Venom wasn’t talking about Kenasha’s physical appearance. “We found a vampire today who belongs to you. A female. Brown hair, blue eyes, thin.”

“Oh.” Kenasha’s tensed shoulders relaxed. “I lent her to some friends of mine. She isn’t lost. Thanks for coming to check.”

As if Venom was the lost and found. “Holly,” he said, warning in his voice, when he saw her start to uncross her legs.

“Just one eye,” she said in a pleading tone so unlike her that he almost lost control and laughed.

Kenasha, however, took her seriously. “Look here,” he said in a pompous manner, “I have every right to lend out a vampire who belongs to me. I pay for her blood, her room and board. I own her.”

Venom felt the viper within uncurl. “Why is her Contract not registered with the Tower? Who transferred ownership to you?” Because that angel was also in deep trouble.

Tongue flicking out, Kenasha wet his lips. “She is post-Contract. Signed to serve me of her own free will.”

If that was true, the Tower would have no reason to chastise him. But Venom was very, very good at sensing the ages of fellow vampires and Daisy had read as young to him. Extremely young. “Ask your butler to retrieve her papers so I can confirm.” He continued to stare at the other man, unable to imagine how this creature was part of the same race as the magnificent being whom Venom chose to serve.

Kenasha didn’t argue, calling in the wraith and sending him off to his study. They waited in silence, Holly staring unblinking at Kenasha the entire time. The four-thousand-year-old angel flushed, couldn’t stay still in the hideous armchair.

“What happened to your wings?” Venom asked, wondering if he had to alert Dmitri to some kind of new disease. Angels weren’t usually vulnerable to disease, but Charisemnon had gained the ability to infect immortals with disease in the Cascade. His last attempt had caused the Falling, when many angels fell out of the sky to lie broken on the earth. Perhaps he’d gotten more subtle in the intervening time.

“My wings?” Kenasha unfolded one and stared at it, as if he hadn’t noticed the patchiness. “Oh, that. I think perhaps I ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

Venom caught the shiftiness of the angel’s eyes, knew he was lying. But he held his silence and when he glanced at Holly, he saw that though she remained hotly angry, she was in control.

The butler walked in at that instant, the papers in his hand. Venom took them before dismissing the wraith. “This contract is dated four years ago.” To be exact, it was dated a month after Raphael executed Uram, following a battle in the sky that had half destroyed Manhattan.

“Has it been that long?” Kenasha gripped the arms of his chair.

Venom scanned the document. It appeared to be in order—a female vampire named—

Well, that was intriguing.

The woman had agreed to serve Kenasha for twenty-five years in return for the “usual care.” Foolish girl. A smart vampire would’ve asked for very specific terms and conditions.

Her signature was shaky, however, and the sole witness the wraith. “This contract is invalid.” He threw the papers on the floor. “Your butler is not an impartial witness.” The Tower did not meddle in the affairs of vampires who’d served out their Contract—they were adults who’d lived a hundred years already and were considered capable of making their own decisions.

However, despite the Tower’s hands-off policy, there were certain rules in place to protect all parties. One of which was an impartial witness to any such contract. “Explain yourself.” He walked close enough that he was looming over Kenasha.

The angel went red. “This is an outrage,” he squeaked out. “I’m an angel. Your better.”

Venom could’ve displayed very easily why this man was a bug to him, but he didn’t want to play games. “Would you rather talk to Dmitri?” The leader of the Seven terrified most people—it was useful on occasion.

Kenasha lost all color in his face before slumping in his seat. “I found her,” he confessed in a whisper, his throat moving as he swallowed. “She was half dead and in the Hudson. I saw her one day while I was flying and got curious, pulled her out.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why. I just thought it might be interesting to see a corpse.”

It was a repulsive thing to say, but Venom didn’t expect much else from Kenasha. “But she wasn’t dead?”

“No, she was alive. And she was pretty then.” He twisted his hands together. “I brought her home without thinking much about it.”

“Liar.” Holly’s silken voice came from behind the angel.