Wanted Angel - Sadie Moss Page 0,7
in shark-infested waters.”
“How did I get demon marked?” Trinity twists on the table as she tries to examine her shoulder. I doubt there’s anything visible there though. Valentina’s spell revealed what the naked eye can’t see.
“Normally, the demon who made the mark would have to come in contact with the person they placed the mark on,” Valentina says thoughtfully. “But I’m fairly certain that if you’d come into contact with a demon of that level, you would be aware of it. This was placed by someone powerful.”
“So how the hell did they do it,” I demand. “If not in person?”
Valentina’s gaze shifts to me, and I let a languid, bored expression drop over my face, covering the concern. I don’t think she’s fooled though. Her voice softens a little, and she grimaces as she speaks. “The easiest way to make a demon mark remotely would be through a spell using the subject’s blood. But since a demon would have no way to get that—”
“Yes, they would.” Ford cuts her off with a curse, his hands balling into fists. “The fuckin’ death witch. Morrigan. She must’ve sold Trinity’s damn blood.”
Motherfucker.
Chapter Three
Trinity
My mind is reeling, even as I try to act like I’m not freaking out.
My blood was sold to a demon?
Ugh. Gross.
I feel so stupid that we let any of my blood be taken, that we didn’t negotiate some other payment instead. Now a ton of supernatural mercenaries are gunning for me, and they’ve got a beacon leading them straight to me.
Valentina seems genuine in her desire to help us at least. That’s a good thing—or so I keep telling myself. She doesn’t give me the creeps, not like the other witch did, and she was soothing as she touched me to work her magic.
And even if she were being creepy, I’ve got Ford right beside me, growling at her, protecting me. The others are protective too, of course, all of them surrounding me, but Ford looks like he’ll rip Valentina’s throat out if she even suggests doing me harm. Sawyer is on my other side, looking almost as on-edge as Ford.
Weirdly, it helps me relax.
As much as I can relax anyway, now that I know I’ve been demon marked. From the sound of it, my very presence is a crazy beacon calling all bounty hunters and evil beings toward me.
“So what do we do? How do we keep Trin safe?” Remi asks. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
Valentina sighs. “Well…”
Before she can finish, the door to her shop opens once again, and I hear stomping and voices. Garbled, deep voices that are definitely not human.
We all freeze.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I look up at the men, my eyes going wide. Are they here for Valentina’s services? Or did they follow me here?
Knight is closest to the door that leads into the main part of the shop, and he signs something, his dark eyes gleaming with worry. Remi nods and then says out loud for my benefit, “Gargoyles.”
Gargoyles? Those are actually a thing?
There’s so much that I really didn’t know about the world—both the supernatural world and the human one. I feel horribly out of touch and unprepared.
“There’s another way out of here,” Valentina whispers, her gaze shifting toward the sounds. “I’ll distract them. Keep them talking. You all can take that exit.”
She walks over to one of the shelves and presses her finger on the lid of a small box that’s sitting among the other boxes, jars, and equipment on the shelf.
“It only responds to my magical energy and my touch,” she explains as a door I had no idea existed swings open. “Just stay quiet.”
With that warning, she turns and steps out into the main room. Beckett and Nix help me to my feet and then push me toward the exit Valentina opened for us. We’ve almost reached it when I hear someone say, “Hey, what’s—”
The deep voice breaks off, and I look over my shoulder to see a gargoyle peering into the room.
Oh, no.
Gargoyles look just about how you’d expect—like they sprang to life from the top of a church and have swooped down to eat a child. Gray, marbled skin. Huge, fanged, snarling mouths. Horns. Bat-style wings. The works.
The gargoyle’s eyes narrow and he glares at me, his gigantic nose sniffing the air. “You,” he hisses. Then he speaks louder, presumably calling out to the others he came here with. “It’s her! The angel!”
“Ah, motherfucker. This isn’t good.” Nix sounds equal parts