One less monster in the world.
She turned back around to find her shifter. Tanner was still on the floor. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was labored. She knelt next to him. His claws were buried in his chest. He’d been trying to take out the last bullet. Swallowing, she guided his hand and used his claws to dig deeper into his flesh. Then she reached inside the wound, biting her lip to stop the trembling, and she found the bullet with her own shaking fingertips.
She pulled the bullet out. Dropped it. Marna took his face in her hands and smeared blood on his cheeks where she touched him. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised him. “He’s gone now. We’re both going to be—”
Laughter.
The cruelest sound she’d ever heard. Marna kept her hold on Tanner, but she turned her head so that she could see Jonathan’s body.
Only he wasn’t dead. Not even close. He sat up. Blood streamed down his chest, but Jonathan didn’t seem affected by the injuries. “You play dirty,” he told her.
She reached out and grabbed for the gun. Fired again. More blood. How many more bullets? And shouldn’t the tranqs knock him out, too? Why weren’t they working?
He rose to his feet.
The gun clicked. No more bullets.
“Seems being a hybrid has more than its share of advantages. Drugs don’t have an effect on me. They can’t knock me out—can’t even give me a damn buzz. And other wounds . . .” He touched his chest. Just that fast—not bleeding anymore. Not good. “They heal almost as fast as I get ’em.”
She had to find a weapon. The guy was a hybrid. Okay . . . so half human, half angel? Or half angel and half something else that would be really, really hard to kill?
When it came to angels, mortal weapons just wouldn’t do the trick. So she needed something strong enough to kill the guy, something not made by mortal means. Marna glanced down at Tanner’s hands. His claws hadn’t retracted. Not yet.
Those will do the trick. She just had to get the guy killing close.
“I can see your wings, you know,” Jonathan told her, his eyes at a point just over her shoulder. “The first time I saw you—and them—I knew just how perfect we’d be together.”
So he’d taken her face, Tanner’s face, Cody’s face . . . and killed. “We’re not going to be anything together.” She kept her hold on Tanner. Had his breathing changed or was that her imagination? Heal faster. Heal faster.
“Do you know what it’s like to be different?” Jonathan was just talking to her like they had all the time in the world to chat. Like he hadn’t shot her lover and killed people all over the city. Insane. Yes, she could see the madness now. He wasn’t bothering to hide it anymore. “To know that you’re all alone, while the rest of the world is running around, blind?”
She licked her lips. Okay. If he wanted to talk, she’d keep him talking. That would give Tanner and his shifter self more time to push the drugs from his system. “You’re earthbound.”
Jonathan blinked. “I’m an angel, just like you.”
Not even close. “You don’t have wings. Not even shadows.” Like the Fallen did. She took a deep breath and fought to keep her voice flat. She didn’t want to give him her fear. “We call—we call those like you the earthbound.” Because no matter what, they weren’t supposed to make it up to heaven. Not while they were still alive, anyway.
The only earthbound who’d ever made it upstairs had been Seline. And Sammael hadn’t been about to let his lady go without a fight.
Sammael. She could sure use some of his power right then.
You have to get angry enough. You have to want to kill. That’s what he’d told her, but well, hell, wanting to kill wouldn’t help her now. Even if she could summon up that power, the Death Touch never worked on those with angel blood.
Angels weren’t supposed to kill their own kind.
But then again, there was a lot that angels weren’t supposed to be doing.
“Earthbound.” Jonathan seemed to be tasting the word. His smile flashed again, and he lifted his hand toward her. “Come. It’s time to leave him behind.”
She wasn’t going anywhere.
“At first, I didn’t realize why I needed to kill.” Jonathan’s voice was smooth, thoughtful. He still offered his hand to her. “I mean, I was only fifteen when I made my first kill. I thought something must be wrong with me. I just—I couldn’t stop myself. I found my prey. Stalked him. Made sure he suffered.”
She didn’t want to hear this. But the stiffness of Tanner’s body told her that he was definitely coming around. Now if he’d just use those fierce claws of his . . .
Jonathan’s hand dropped to his side. “He was one of my old foster dads. I was always being bounced around. Fucking abandoned as a kid—why would an angel do that?”
Marna didn’t answer. Not that she had time to talk. Jonathan’s eyes were burning brighter, and his words came faster as he said, “He never should have touched me. I told him . . . told him I’d get him back. Vengeance. And I did. I found him. I hunted him. I killed him while he begged and screamed.” His breath sighed out. “The first kill, but not the last.”
The way he was talking about vengeance . . . “Your—your mother or father—one of them could have been a punishment angel.” Only the way he’d been killing—that wasn’t the way punishers worked. When they punished, it was never about emotion or payback. It was just . . . duty.
The punishment angels weren’t supposed to enjoy their dark work.
“How many?” Marna asked quietly. The guy wasn’t coming closer to her. She needed him closer. “How many more did you kill over the years?”
“Hundreds.” Said with relish. “Criminals. Thieves. Whores. Murderers. They all needed to be punished, and I was the instrument of that punishment.”
Her mouth was so dry that it hurt to swallow. “How did you know . . . what they’d done?”
He took a gliding step toward her. “I could see the sin on them. Almost smell it.” His gaze dropped to Tanner. “Like I see it on him. Evil. He reeks of it. He’s got blood on him, and it will never wash off.”
Like the crazy jerk in front of her could talk.
“I’m going to kill him for you,” Jonathan promised with a nod. “Just like I killed the others for you.”