She realized a second too late that he didn’t know any better. Trained to fire a gun when his life was threatened, it had to be hard for him to overcome the logic behind it. He squeezed off a round and bull’s-eye! The bullet struck the one on the steps right between the eyes.
She cringed inwardly, crouching. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
And she was right.
The minion roared to life, charging the steps two at time.
She launched herself at him, managing to block his attempt to rush past her. They crashed into each other, slipping down a step or two in a tangle of leather and pressed khaki. When the minion reared back, she twisted out of his grasp. The light from the bulb above caught the glint of silver in his hand. It wasn’t that he had a blade that jolted her into action. All of the minions had some sort of weapon. It was the intricate writing scrolled on the length of the blade that made her take notice. It was just like hers, which meant it could kill her.
Not having time to consider where they might have gotten their grubby hands on a Nephilim blade, she sank hers deep into the minion’s flesh. His weight fell against her. “Ugh,” she grunted.
Michael came down the steps two at time, plucking the minion off her. By the time he heaved the creature over the railing, the face had already begun to disintegrate.
She passed him a thankful smile. “Two down…”
Michael’s lips twitched. “One more to go.”
She snatched up the blade the minion had held and turned back to William. Three more deadheads surrounded him. And they were all brand spanking new to the world of possession. How many human lives were wasted tonight?
“Kill her,” William ordered coldly.
All three lifted their heads, stares fixed on Lily. Normally, she would have happily gone after all three and William, but there was Michael. The deadheads were surely a decoy to get to him. They would keep her busy enough so William could go for him. Michael’s aim had drastically improved, but William was strong and smart. She didn’t believe Michael was ready for that.
“It’s your lucky day,” she announced. Not giving either one enough time to figure out what she was doing. She pivoted and grabbed Michael’s hand. “Come on!” Pulling him behind her, she raced up the stairs.
“We’re running?” He sounded shocked.
“I can’t let them get you. That’s Willy boy’s plan.” She rounded the eighth level. “They’ve got a hard on for you, boy.”
“Why are they coming after me?”
She passed him a dubious look over her shoulder. “You seriously have to ask that—really?” She rounded another level with Michael on her heels. She let go of his hand, grabbing the railing. “You’re an adult Nephilim who has no knowledge of what he is. They will either use you or kill you.”
He shifted and was at her side. “It can’t be true.”
Irritated by him and the fact she was running up the stairs, which had to be her own personal Hell, she fought the urge to backhand some sense into him. They rounded the last landing, and she reached for the door.
Sickness crept over her. The tremor that ran through her was different than the tingling the minions gave off. She faltered at the door to the rooftop. “Michael?”
“Yes?” He was right beside her, eyes narrowing as he studied her face. “What is it?”
She backed away from the door. Where in the hell is Luke? She needed to get Michael out of here. Now. There was no more time. On the other side of the door was death, and below them were William and his crew.
They had been trapped, and she had run right into it.
She cursed under her breath, looking around wildly. The only way out of this was going through William and his minions.
“What is it, Lily?” Michael asked as he kept his gun cocked and ready. He took a step closer to her. “Lily?”
She turned to him with wide eyes. “If I tell you to run, Michael, you run. Don’t ask why, and…please listen to me.”
“Bullshit.” The tips of his cheekbones flushed. “I’m not leaving you.”
She grabbed his free hand once again, dragging him back down the steps, hearing the sounds of a scuffle and William cursing. Then the unmistakable fleshy smack of a body hitting the ground and then another.
“Lily, you up?” Luke called out from four floors below.
Relieved, she opened her mouth to respond but was cut off. Turning, she felt her heart drop as the door above them swung open. At once, she twisted and leaped in front of Michael, forcing him behind her. “Michael, please listen to me.”
A cold laugh echoed around them, etching its way down her spine. She shuddered once. The smell of sulfur filled the cramped stairwell. Her step faltered a bit as she clenched the railing tightly.
She paled as he came into view, her heart sinking. Rage and fear swirled inside her, making her dizzy. His name came to her lips, blistering them. “Baal…”
Chapter Nine
There was a wild, instinctive part of Michael that realized whatever was coming down the stairs was far worse than what waited below.
Lily whirled around in front of him, her face washed of color and eyes wide. “Run!”
He wasn’t used to taking orders from just anyone, but the fear in Lily’s voice propelled him forward. He’d only known her for twenty-four hours, and during that time he’d seen her do things without so much as a grimace that would have made a seasoned officer cringe in horror. Now, she was scared—visibly so. Although he knew this, curiosity was far stronger than any ounce of common sense. As Lily dragged him down the stairs, he hesitated.