Angelic Deals (Realms Unleashed: Red Angel Book 2) Read online

  ANGELIC DEALS

  REALMS UNLEASHED: RED ANGEL BOOK TWO

  ISA MEDINA

  Copyright © 2022 by Isa Medina

  Cover by Moorbooks Design

  Edited by Rare Bird Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  www.isa-medina.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Also By Isa Medina

  About the Author

  ONE

  New week. New alley. New un-blacklisted me.

  Same demon vermin hunting job.

  “Seriously, Ana,” Cole whined from his perch on a few stacked crates. “I’m so fed up with them. It’s like I don’t exist.”

  Now with add-ons.

  I studied the narrow alleyway extending in front of us, looking all cheerily human in the morning light. Somewhere in its depths resided a small, cat-like demon escaped from Earth—what we called the realm of demons, since they were all about soil and plants and nature and keeping their feet firmly planted on the ground—and it was my job to send it back where it belonged.

  You’d think that having been removed from the Hunters’ blacklist, there would be more rewarding and better-paying jobs available.

  Turned out, not quite.

  For one, it had only been a few days since the Hunters’ boss had cleared me of all suspicions, and for another, I had a feeling that Ramón, the Hunters’ second in command and my eternal enemy, was doing his best to stop the un-blacklisting news from spreading.

  “Do you know what Ethan told me when I asked to be included in the next big hunting job?” Cole asked.

  Since Cole was here with me and not trolling for frenzied demons, I could take a good guess.

  “He told me to talk to Matt!”

  “Shh,” I said. “You’re going to scare the demon away.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” he asked, a blank expression on his face.

  Hunters. No delicacy whatsoever. “The point is to scare it back to Earth, not into a new hiding place.”

  “Okaaaay,” he said, clearly doubtful.

  Cole was a new addition to my demon vermin—dermin? hmm—job. Having decided that my colorful history with the Hunters—what with the joining, quitting, getting onto their blacklist, breaking into their building, stealing one of their captives, and failing to inform them I was the reincarnation of a mythical being—made me an excellent dumping ground for his sorrows, he’d taken to keeping me random company to relieve all his Hunter stress.

  I should charge him for it, but since he was also keeping my identity as the Red Angel a secret—mostly out of spite because nobody in the Hunters would listen to him—I figured he could have these sessions for free.

  As the Red Angel, I was also the only “weapon” capable of forever ending the life of immortal beings. And if anyone discovered that fact, I’d be hunted for the rest of my life.

  If the angels or demons didn’t end me first, the Hunters would try to force me to do their bidding, or they’d lock me up in their headquarters’ basement for the rest of my life, my power too dangerous to allow free.

  I’d been a guest of the Hunters’ jail once, and once was enough.

  Cole wasn’t aware of what I could do as the Red Angel, but it wouldn’t take long for anyone who actually thought about it to figure it out—especially since an alternative name for the immortal-killing weapon was the Wings of Hell. Ancient names, all oooh and pretty! and so cool until they were about you.

  “I gave them the Vow,” Cole continued in a mournful voice, “and they didn’t even say ‘good job.’ I thought at least they’d up my rank or put me in the main roster. They just took it and left me standing there. Such BS.”

  In my only smart decision during the events of the previous week, I’d given my half of the Vow of Conquest to Cole and the Hunters for safekeeping. To be honest, I didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing if Alan Ward, the biggest, baddest summoner around, and owner of the other half, came looking for it.

  Yep, better let the Hunters deal with that mess.

  “It’s like I don’t exist,” Cole said. “What’s the point of being a Hunter if they don’t want me? If I can’t hunt?”

  “It pays pretty well,” I pointed out. Plus, free utilities if you lived at headquarters. The idea made me go a little starry-eyed.

  He sniffed. “There’s more to life than a good salary.”

  Considering I was digging through trash to scare demon vermin away to try to pay my rent, we’d have to agree to disagree on that one.

  Still, the job wasn’t that bad, and it was fairly easy to tune Cole out. The mayhem of last week had also resulted in a couple of new contacts in the underground magical black market, and when one needed to figure out how to free a couple of thousand souls from one’s wings, any help counted.

  To top it all, I hadn’t heard from the angel Zel in days.

  All things considered, life was preeeeetty good.

  Except…

  I adjusted my new blue beanie hat down over my ears. Not to tune Cole out—not entirely, anyway—or because I was cold, which I was, but to keep more of my hair out of sight. The hat was a new addition to my demon vermin hunting wardrobe of old jeans and battered jacket.

  Yeah, life was good, except for the photo of the Red Angel making the rounds in the undernet.

  Someone had taken a photo of me in my full Red Angel form, red wings out in all their glory, during my fight with Malthuk. The image was all zoomed in and grainy, and it only showed me from the back, but it had been more than enough to send the magical community into a frenzy.

  After all, the Red Angel hadn’t been seen in over a thousand years.

  Luckily, part-angels like me weren’t supposed to have full forms—that is to say, wings—so nobody had made the obvious connection yet. Still, it paid to be careful. I didn’t want anyone recognizing my hair from behind. The whole undernet was squeezing that photo for all it was worth, from possible brands of jeans to height and weight.

  Stupid phones and their super zooms.

  And the bad news didn’t end there.

  Aware of the Red Angel’s sighting, Zel, a.k.a. the New Bane of My Existence, had decided to cash in one of the several favors I owed him to order me to find myself.

  If my life had a motto, it would be How much worse can it possibly get?

  Really, my existence was basically one big dare at the Universe.

  “Have you guys found who took that photo yet?” I asked, forcing my body to move. I checked a nearby stack of wooden pallets. Nothing lurked behind.

  Up until last week, I’d managed to keep my Red
Angel identity secret. Now three other people knew who I was: Cole, the Archivist down in the black market, and the demon Malthuk.

  So far, Cole had been happy to keep the secret to himself. The Archivist, I hoped, was too happy knowing something nobody else did to spread the information. And Malthuk… Well, I’d made sure he told nobody by tearing his heart out, eating it, and condemning his soul to an eternity of suffering.

  Being the Red Angel—all fun and games until hearts got eaten and someone’s soul got stuck in the hell of my wings.

  “Nope,” Cole said. “I don’t think they’re bothering with it too much.”

  I prodded a box aside. Nothing hid behind. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, they’re still busy chasing leads about the Sword of Souls.”

  The Sword of a Thousand Screaming Souls. Also another name for the Red Angel. Hunters—Ramón in particular—were particularly obstinate when they found a bone to pick, so it wasn’t entirely surprising they were still stuck on that one.

  Exhibit A: five years of blacklisting because Ramón thought I’d treated joining the Hunters like an after-school special.

  A slight rustling noise came from a few boxes farther in. Bingo. I produced my trusty butter knife and flipped it to grab it by the dull blade. The poor thing had been a casualty of my less-than-ideal headquarters break-in, but Sol, my best friend and Ramón’s little sister, had managed to get it back. Love and gratitude warmed my blood like a sunny summer day. Sol was the best.

  “Okay, little demon critter,” I murmured, my mood improved by leaps. “Time to go back home.”

  Unlike angels, who were only one type of being, demons also came in the form of weaker, animal-like creatures like this vermin. For some reason, these were able to cross into Mortality at lot easier than their more intelligent, powerful counterparts.

  “Have you heard from the angel?” Cole asked with curiosity, apparently done with the long list of personal woes.

  “No,” I answered with relish, my smile broadening.

  After Zel had dropped by and told me to find the Red Angel for him, I’d spent the next day holed up in my room, dreading every passing minute, afraid he’d pop in and demand answers. On the second day, it had finally dawned on me that if he did pop in asking for updates, I could simply lie. If the undernet with all its armchair detectives couldn’t identify me, what chance did a vermin-chaser, Hunter reject like me have?

  But Zel hadn’t even bothered to check in.

  Part of me found that somewhat vexing.

  The least he could do was show some sort of interest in whether I was following up on any leads. Or if I was still alive.

  A mass of moss and thin branches shot between two crates and scampered down the alleyway.

  “Gotcha,” I exclaimed in triumph. I let the butter knife fly.

  It missed the demon by a mile and hit another pile of crates, clattering loudly to the ground. Instead of jumping right into Earth, the demon critter skidded to a halt and came around to sniff the knife.

  Damn. The Flying Butter Knife of Doom was usually enough to scare them right back into Earth. Now I’d have to—

  Wait a minute. I took a closer look at the demon. It looked familiar.

  A light bulb switched on in my head. “You’re the same demon as last week,” I accused with a pointed finger.

  The demon turned its head to fix its red eyes on me. I could swear they shone with smugness.

  Last time I’d seen this runt had been the same night I’d found Too Good attempting to summon demons in a basement. Which meant… Alarmed, I turned to check behind me. This one had a friend.

  Another rustle came from another stack of crates. Yep. The little bastard had brought company.

  “Cole,” I called out, “help me out here.”

  “Sure,” Cole said, busy with his phone.

  I considered throwing the butter knife at his face, but the first demon used my distraction to leap straight at my jacket.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I muttered, spinning to intercept it. This was the only jacket I owned, and it was too cold for hoodies. The critter hissed as I snatched it out of the air mid-jump and threw it to the ground.

  True skill right here.

  It landed like a cat and bounced backward, exploding into a small cloud of dirt and twigs. At the same time, something latched itself onto my calf. Small, needle-like claws embedded themselves into my skin through my jeans. Yelping, I tried to shake the second demon off. It wouldn’t budge.

  A phone’s photo shutter echoed in the alleyway. Jumping on one leg and shaking the other, I looked up to find Cole pointing his phone at me, silent laughter shaking his chest.

  “You’re dead—ow,” I cried as the damn critter dug its claws deeper.

  Short of being smashed into the wall, the thing wasn’t about to abandon my leg anytime soon. And call me sentimental, but the thought of ramming the thing into the bricks wasn’t exactly enticing. Cole’s face? Sure. This little critter? It reminded me too much of a cat.

  Also, there was barely any wall visible with all the crap stacked left and right.

  Making sure my back was to Cole, I bent and grabbed the demon by the approximate whereabouts of its neck. Tapping into my Red Angel power, I allowed a trickle to seep through. Warmth expanded from my chest and down my arm, along with a sense of rightness. This is who you’re supposed to be, my instinct whispered with a hint of the far, discordant chorus of the souls trapped within my wings. This was the greatness I could become, if only I would impose my will on the world and judge those unfit to belong in it.

  Revulsion mixed with anticipation churned my stomach. My fingers curled tighter around the critter’s neck. Their tips became a deep red; the nails hardened, fusing with bone, sharpening and elongating.

  The critter let out a small shriek, and I was left holding nothing but a few twigs and a clump of soil.

  With a small effort of will, I retracted my power and flexed my hand as it returned to its normal human state. With no Zel or powerful demon around to dare my Red Angel instincts to show them up, my power was much easier to control.

  Sometimes, when I woke up in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat, I wondered if the Red Angel’s instinct to consume souls would become an incessant need some day. My predecessor had had no compunction in trapping her enemies’ souls in her wings—as far as she’d been concerned, they’d all deserved it.

  I didn’t want to end up like that.

  I wouldn’t. Even if Ed Miller and Malthuk, whose souls currently resided in my wings along with all the older ones, begged to disagree.

  “Are you done?” Cole asked, bored again.

  One last flex of my hand. “Yep.” I retrieved the butter knife and made my way back to where he sat by the entrance of the alleyway. “Drive me to Rey’s?”

  Having Cole use one of the Hunters’ cars to drive me around like a driver’s service brought out a perverse sense of satisfaction in me.

  “It’s out of my way,” he complained.

  “You’re the one who came to bug me while I work. It’s the least you can do.”

  He grumbled some more but drove me to Rey’s. My boss owned a small company specialized in doing some of the chores for the magical community the Hunters couldn’t be bothered with. Like delivering messages and packages, or providing demon vermin extermination services.

  No cat-demon defeat had ever brought fame and glory to a Hunter.

  Since Davis had confiscated my bike as collateral for all my late rent payments, I’d been stuck with the vermin hunting. Rey probably got a good laugh at sending the Hunter reject to catch the stuff they ignored.

  “Damn, you’re getting fleeced,” Cole said when he saw me count the few bills Rey handed over.

  I felt my cheeks heat. Okay, so it wasn’t the best paying job out there. “Not like you’re doing much better.”

  “At least I can pay rent.”

  Cole - 1, Ana - 0.

  Oh, how the mighty
had fallen.

  Riding high on his victory, Cole refused to drive me home, so I had to take the bus, missing my bike something fierce and wondering, not for the first time, if it’d be worth it trying to steal it back from Davis, my landlord. I had gotten to be a bit of an expert in extractions lately.

  By the time I made it to the sharehouse where I lived, it was already midmorning. The building was eerily quiet as I went up to my floor. Full angels and demons might not like each other, but here in Mortality, nobody said part-demon and part-angels couldn’t be best buddies.

  My home might be only a small room in a part-demon sharehouse, but it was my haven.

  The familiar sight of my floor with the closed doors to the rooms, and the common area with the sofa and small kitchenette, filled me with contentment. I’d get comfy, grab a bite, then decide what to do for the evening.

  Satisfied with this plan, I opened my door.

  To find Gabriel standing in all his angelic glory in the middle of my room.

  TWO

  I thought about stepping back into the hallway and acting like I hadn’t seen him, but that ship had probably sailed.

  Like all angels, Gabriel was a thing of beauty. He stood tall, garbed in linen pants and a loose shirt straight out of a period drama, his body perfectly proportioned, his long, blond hair falling in smooth waves over his shoulders and back, framing a handsome face and cold, unnerving red eyes. He didn’t even have his wings out and he still dwarfed my room. Not that it was big to begin with, but right now, it felt downright tiny.

  This was the third time I’d been in his presence, and that was two times too many. Unlike Zel, who had a playful—if dangerous—side to him, Gabriel radiated nothing but indifference and coldness. His mere presence made goosebumps break all over my arms. Goosebumps—and wariness.