help you?”
“Get away from me.” He didn’t even recognize the savage snarl as his. An icy film slowly crawled across his vision as he rose to his feet.
Kill.
• • •
Passion leaned her back against the closed door and drew in a deep calming breath. It didn’t work. Panic still gripped her.
Death.
How did she begin dealing with him, with any of them? She didn’t handle these kinds of…people. She worked with the small stuff—comforting, guiding the unsure toward the right decisions. All of which she did from the safety of her home. No face–to–face confrontations, just soothing strokes and whispers into troubled minds. Troubled
human
minds. She did
not
take on the physical manifestation of death. Passion didn’t have the power to go mano a mano with Edge or Ganymede. Right now, she didn’t have
any
power.
For a moment, an image of the virgin lying on the landing, her neck twisted at an impossible angle, flashed in her memory. No, she hadn’t brought her back to life. That was ridiculous. The woman obviously hadn’t been dead. With only her human senses, Passion couldn’t be sure about when someone was really gone. She shoved the image aside.
She felt nauseous. Not a physical reaction she’d ever experienced before. Confusion and fear tore her stomach into tasty bits for her personal demons to snack on. They took time out from their partying to remind her that she was way out of her league here, and to suggest that if Ted wanted to get rid of her—after all, she was a major thorn in his mighty butt—this would be an excellent way to do it.
What were her options? She could try to do what she was sent here to do—work with her limited skills to turn those at the castle away from evil and let Hope send nightly reports back to home base. Or…she could fill Hope in on the full scope of the horror here and have her send for the avenging angels.
Passion would be off the hook. The avenging angels woulddestroy Edge, Ganymede, and Bain—maybe Sparkle could be saved—and that would be that.
A tiny cowardly voice in her mind shouted, “Let’s hear it for the avenging angels.” Her boring cubicle waiting back in her boring office with her boring boss waiting to give her more boring assignments was looking pretty good right now.
But it felt wrong on a whole bunch of levels. She’d be branded a failure, not able to cope with her assignment, a whiner who ran for help at the first sign of trouble.
Whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo—Passion closed her eyes and fought back her rising hysteria.
One truth rose above her mental chaos. She didn’t want to see Edge destroyed, and that didn’t make a bit of sense. He was an abomination, but…She opened her eyes. She felt like she was drowning in emotions after an existence without any. Is this what she’d wanted to experience as a human? It wasn’t as much fun as she’d expected.
The pounding on her door interrupted her thoughts. Someone couldn’t be here with her key that quickly. Turning, she opened the door.
An old woman stood with her fist raised, ready to start pounding again. “Please, get help. There’s something wrong with that man.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’m so upset that I can’t find my cell phone to do it myself.”
Passion looked past the woman to see Edge striding toward the stairs. “Edge?”
He paused, and then slowly turned to face her.
She instinctively stepped back. What stared at her had no relation to the man who’d just left her room. His eyes glowed, and Death lived in his stare. No recognition showed in those eyes.
“What happened?” Passion was proud that her voice didn’t shake. “Where are you going?”
Those sensual lips lifted in a smile so evil it made her gasp.
“To kill Ganymede.” Turning away, he disappeared down the stairs.
Ohmigod. She had to stop him. Passion rushed out into the hallway. “No. Wait. Don’t do this.” Panicked, she looked around. The old
“Get away from me.” He didn’t even recognize the savage snarl as his. An icy film slowly crawled across his vision as he rose to his feet.
Kill.
• • •
Passion leaned her back against the closed door and drew in a deep calming breath. It didn’t work. Panic still gripped her.
Death.
How did she begin dealing with him, with any of them? She didn’t handle these kinds of…people. She worked with the small stuff—comforting, guiding the unsure toward the right decisions. All of which she did from the safety of her home. No face–to–face confrontations, just soothing strokes and whispers into troubled minds. Troubled
human
minds. She did
not
take on the physical manifestation of death. Passion didn’t have the power to go mano a mano with Edge or Ganymede. Right now, she didn’t have
any
power.
For a moment, an image of the virgin lying on the landing, her neck twisted at an impossible angle, flashed in her memory. No, she hadn’t brought her back to life. That was ridiculous. The woman obviously hadn’t been dead. With only her human senses, Passion couldn’t be sure about when someone was really gone. She shoved the image aside.
She felt nauseous. Not a physical reaction she’d ever experienced before. Confusion and fear tore her stomach into tasty bits for her personal demons to snack on. They took time out from their partying to remind her that she was way out of her league here, and to suggest that if Ted wanted to get rid of her—after all, she was a major thorn in his mighty butt—this would be an excellent way to do it.
What were her options? She could try to do what she was sent here to do—work with her limited skills to turn those at the castle away from evil and let Hope send nightly reports back to home base. Or…she could fill Hope in on the full scope of the horror here and have her send for the avenging angels.
Passion would be off the hook. The avenging angels woulddestroy Edge, Ganymede, and Bain—maybe Sparkle could be saved—and that would be that.
A tiny cowardly voice in her mind shouted, “Let’s hear it for the avenging angels.” Her boring cubicle waiting back in her boring office with her boring boss waiting to give her more boring assignments was looking pretty good right now.
But it felt wrong on a whole bunch of levels. She’d be branded a failure, not able to cope with her assignment, a whiner who ran for help at the first sign of trouble.
Whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo—Passion closed her eyes and fought back her rising hysteria.
One truth rose above her mental chaos. She didn’t want to see Edge destroyed, and that didn’t make a bit of sense. He was an abomination, but…She opened her eyes. She felt like she was drowning in emotions after an existence without any. Is this what she’d wanted to experience as a human? It wasn’t as much fun as she’d expected.
The pounding on her door interrupted her thoughts. Someone couldn’t be here with her key that quickly. Turning, she opened the door.
An old woman stood with her fist raised, ready to start pounding again. “Please, get help. There’s something wrong with that man.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’m so upset that I can’t find my cell phone to do it myself.”
Passion looked past the woman to see Edge striding toward the stairs. “Edge?”
He paused, and then slowly turned to face her.
She instinctively stepped back. What stared at her had no relation to the man who’d just left her room. His eyes glowed, and Death lived in his stare. No recognition showed in those eyes.
“What happened?” Passion was proud that her voice didn’t shake. “Where are you going?”
Those sensual lips lifted in a smile so evil it made her gasp.
“To kill Ganymede.” Turning away, he disappeared down the stairs.
Ohmigod. She had to stop him. Passion rushed out into the hallway. “No. Wait. Don’t do this.” Panicked, she looked around. The old
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