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

  “Nobody has heard of her in Air. Whoever she is, she’s kept her presence to the mortal realm.”

  “See? How do you expect me to find her this fast when she’s flown under the radar for so long?” I asked in a reasonable tone.

  He tilted his head again. “I don’t know. Something tells me her appearance is related to all the new rumors circulating around. I think we will see her again.”

  By new rumors, he meant the avalanche of information that flooded the black market due to Kurtz Warner’s death. It was thanks to these that the Hunters were looking for me and I’d ended up in a bad, horrid deal with Zel. The yearning to attempt resurrecting the man just to kill him again rose unbidden. Unfortunately, magic only went so far.

  “No,” I told Zel. “I think whoever it was has gone back underground and is on the other side of the world by now.”

  He leaned forward, bringing his face within a breath of mine. “But you are still going to look for her, hmm?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. It was hard to think when he got so close, hard to do anything but lose yourself in the swirling reds of his irises.

  He stepped back and waved his hand as if saying, What are you waiting for? Go forth and do investigative things.

  Eyeing him warily, I put more distance between us and called Cole.

  “’Sup.” He sounded bored. Probably had gotten stuck with another watch. I almost went back to my window to check he wasn’t stuck watching me. But no, if Ryler, the Hunters’ boss, had anyone keeping an eye on me, it wouldn’t be Cole, not after he’d been with me when we’d confronted Malthuk. The boss had to suspect there had been more to the whole affair than what we’d told her.

  “Do you know anything about Cabot?”

  “Who?”

  When I mentioned earlier that Hunters didn’t consider summoners a high priority, I meant it. “One of the summoners.”

  “Oh. No clue.”

  “Can you look him up in the database?” The Hunters kept good records. “See if there is any last address or anything like that.”

  “I guess.” You’d think from his tone I’d just asked him to clean a litter box. “Is this something to do with another weapon?” he asked tentatively.

  “Yup,” I lied. Whatever it took to get him moving.

  I toed the carpet. At least, I hoped I was lying. The thought of being involved with more weapon affairs made me shudder.

  I looked up from my sneakers to find Zel’s expectant gaze fixed on me.

  “Ah, Cole?”

  “What?”

  “Have you found out anything else about the Red Angel?”

  “Again? It’s been like two hours.”

  “Great, thank you.” I ended the call and gave Zel the sweetest smile in my arsenal. “No news, sorry.”

  He chuckled. “How do you plan to find this summoner?”

  I narrowed my eyes. Did he know anything about Cabot? I wanted to ask, but I also didn’t want to incur any more debts. I still owed him a few favors.

  So instead, I asked myself the same question. Cole and Sol might unearth something, but I couldn’t depend on that. I also couldn’t count on Gabriel disappearing for days as Zel had—he had warned me to hurry up, after all.

  I couldn’t ask anyone else without raising suspicion, and certainly nobody in the Hunters. Which left the black market.

  The same onslaught of information that had started the hunt for the Sword of a Thousand Screaming Souls—a.k.a. me—had attracted the summoners to the black market. Acker had been interested in the Vow of Conquest, the crystallized heart of Cyra, one of the most powerful summoners of all time, and part of the trio who had killed Dralzar, cut him into pieces, sent his head into Chaos, and closed that realm forever.

  Or not forever, if the rumors circulating in the black market were correct.

  But that was a worry for another day.

  The Vow was now cut in half and could do no damage. However, that wasn’t the only thing the summoners had been looking for in the black market. Ward had put out a reward for any information leading to the Book of Souls, a book listing all human reincarnations. I had assumed that was because he thought the Vow was a reincarnation rather than the heart from the original Cyra, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it for other nefarious purposes.

  As Sol had pointed out, knowing the reincarnations of powerful beings meant he could either kill them as soon as they manifested, or brainwash them from birth to do his bidding down the lane. Either way, trouble.

  Luckily, the Book hadn’t been seen in decades.

  But what if the Vow and the Book weren’t the only things the summoners were looking for? What if there were more? If I found something Cabot wanted, I wouldn’t have to figure out where he holed up. I could simply use it as a lure and trap him where I wanted.

  And once I had him, who said I couldn’t do to him what I’d done to Acker? Gabriel wasn’t completely wrong about humans falling for the same trick twice. Catch me unaware once and rip my heart out, shame on you, do it again, shame on me, and all that.

  “What are you thinking?” Zel asked, so close, I jumped. “You look slightly green.”

  Or instead of doing the killing, I could ask Zel to do it for me.

  He chose that moment to poke my cheek. “Are you going to vomit?”

  No. Not asking him. Who knew what he’d want in return? Better to go back to my original plan and have Gabriel deal with it once I caught Cabot and told him how Acker’s death had gone down—all in vague I heard and someone told mes, of course.

  I pushed Zel away, the feel of his firm muscles under my hands giving me a bit of a pause, and went to the small fridge in the kitchenette. Yes—score! Someone had bought a few sandwiches from Helen’s shop. I grabbed one and faced Zel, who was blocking the way to the stairs.

  “What are you going to do next?” he asked.

  I unwrapped the sandwich as I nudged him aside. “I’m going to the black market.”

  “My favor comes first,” he warned in that smooth tone of his that rode the edge between complacence and danger.

  Shrugging, I gave him a bland look. “Two chickens, one fryer.”

  FOUR

  Eating while being flown around by an angel? Not recommended. Especially since Zel managed to eat most of my sandwich. The man had the reflexes and agility of a damn cobra.

  But I couldn’t complain, since he was flying me for free—we made it as far as the bus stop before he gathered me in his arms and jumped for the sky. No bribing necessary.

  I couldn’t stop my hands from drifting toward his wings. They were still as breathtaking as the first time I’d seen them, the plumes white and ending in lovely shades of brown. He only had two out—angels could choose how many they chose to show—and while their movement was impressive, they weren’t what was keeping us going—Zel’s control over air was.

  It was the reason I couldn’t fly at all. I might have two full wings, but I was way too heavy to look like anything more than a chicken if I attempted flight—I had no air magic.

  It didn’t take us long to reach the Sumington Market, the public face of the black market.

  Zel landed by the side with the dumpsters. I slid to the floor and attempted to cover the fluttering of my heart and the heat in my cheeks by giving him a clinical look-over. “You’re going to need to put some clothes on.” How did he not freeze to death going around half-dressed? I wished I had his heating system.

  He looked down at his bare chest, then extended his arms, showing himself off, and gave me a fake pout of disappointment. “You don’t like?”

  This jerk. “The aim is to pass unnoticed, remember? Your chest is too grandiose—it’ll leave people drooling wherever you go.”

  His lips stretched into a slow, wicked grin. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

  A laugh escaped me. “Bet you wouldn’t. Please?”

  He popped out of view. As usual, the instant he was gone, my surroundings became eerily empty, and the
noise from the main street strangely loud. He was back in an instant, having changed into black jeans and a black woolen turtleneck sweater.

  “Better?” he asked, attempting—and failing—to sound self-deprecating.

  Barely. “Meh. You’ll do.” I spun and made for one of the back entrances into the Market.

  He caught up, hands in his pockets, eyes taking everything in as if it was the first time he’d been here. Having been here the last time we visited, I knew that to be a lie.

  I took in the rows of quaint shops, the elegant bridges and walkways of the second floor, and the lovely iron-framed skylights. The converted factory looked straight out of a Faery Magazine article. Visitors and tourists ambled along the rows of shops, looking for knickknacks and souvenirs to take home. Little did they know there was a dark and dangerous side to the Market right under their feet.

  Ah, how had I not missed this place.

  The last time I’d been here had been in the middle of the night, desperate to earn information about the Vow before anyone got their hands on it and attempted to take over the mortal realm. It had taken a visit to the Archivist and revealing myself as the Red Angel to get her to hand over the information.

  Zel nudged me. “You’re looking green again. Shall we visit your friend at the tea shop?”

  My face went up in flames. God, no. Not after the last time. I’d rather spend another day in the Hunters’ jail. “I’m fine,” I snapped and hurried toward one of the openings in the wall, hoping the darkness drenching the stairs would hide the neon red of my cheeks.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, all innocence. “The seller appeared capable. He might have something to help.”

  I realized my mistake in taking the lead. If I hadn’t, I would be in the best position to shove him down the stairs.

  Live and learn.

  The spiral stairs always messed a little with my head. It didn’t help that the light bulbs were weak and far in between. By the time we reached the end of the steps, I was almost relieved at the sight that met us.

  Like the upstairs, the underground Market was comprised of two levels, with their sets of rows and open spaces crossed by walkways. It couldn’t be more different otherwise, though. Down here, the red brick, iron frames, and hardwood floors only made everything appear old and grim, the effect augmented by the strange contrast with the obviously modern shoppers and the ATM in the corner. Back when I worked as a courier between here and the upper market, there had even been talk of installing a couple of vending machines.

  I could only wonder what exactly they’d sell. Press A-1 for a soda, and C-5 for crystallized human eyes guaranteed to bring you luck.

  I shuddered and dove right into the moving crowd. Although the black market reached its peak during the night hours, there was still a good number of people milling about.

  Nobody took notice of Zel and me as we made our way through one of the walkways, though everyone kept a healthy distance from him. Zel might not be throwing off power vibes, but everyone in here was well aware of what he was. Even if they didn’t look up from their phones, their instincts would be screaming at them to take care and avoid him at all costs.

  I, on the other hand, had to elbow my way through.

  “Who are we going to visit today?” Zel asked placidly, as yet someone else plowed into me. Seriously, was I invisible or what?

  He chuckled, reached over, hooked a finger on the hem of my jacket, and tugged me closer to his side. “Well?”

  “Same people as last time,” I muttered ungraciously, keeping close to him. Same people except for the Archivist. No way I was going there again.

  First of all, she gave me the everlasting creeps; second of all, she lived in a bunker dug deeper than these levels. And third, the more space I put between Zel and anyone who knew my secret, the better—one slip of the tongue, and my perilous freedom as the Red Angel in disguise would come to a screeching halt.

  I had no wish to join Zel’s collection of ancient weapons. Spending the rest of my life nailed to a wall in his showroom didn’t appeal in the least. With my luck, there wouldn’t even be a window to get a decent view of Air.

  Changing course, I directed my steps toward a literal hole in the wall. A man lounged in the tiny room beyond, splayed comfortably on an armchair. His name was Jack, or maybe Mack. Hank? In any case, he was a safe source of gossip. Unless you paid him well, he’d simply redirect you to others or repeat what everyone already knew.

  “Heeeey, there,” he said. “What can I help you with today?” He indicated a fridge crammed by his side. “Water bottle?”

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “Yes,” Zel said.

  The man opened the fridge, snaked an arm inside—mostly because the thing wouldn’t open any wider—and produced a tiny bottle of mineral water. “That’ll be five bucks.”

  Both of them looked at me expectantly.

  Yeah, like I was going to let them con me like this. “Sorry, we don’t need any.”

  A slight snap announced the break of a plastic seal as Zel picked the bottle and twisted the cap.

  With a heavy sigh, I produced the bills Rey had given me and parted with a fiver. I watched mournfully as it disappeared into an old tin can with a hole drilled on top.

  “Have you heard anything about the Red Angel?” I asked with all the enthusiasm of a drenched cat.

  “The Red Angel?”

  I flapped my hands at my sides. “You know, the picture on the undernet? The angel?”

  “Oh, you mean the vampire.”

  “Huh?”

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  Zel leaned in, fascinated. “No, tell us.”

  The man straightened. “Between you and me, I think it’s stretching the truth. But, hey.” He gave Zel an appraising look. “You’re a part-angel or something, right? You feel like it. Is she an angel or a vampire?”

  I wasn’t sure what was more shocking, that someone thought I was a vampire, or that Hank hadn’t realized Zel was a full angel, leashed power or not. The years sitting here among the demons and part-demons who often frequented the black market must’ve dulled his instincts down to the shape of a potato.

  Zel didn’t seem to take insult at the misidentification of his great angel self. “She’s an angel,” he said with a disturbing sense of certainty. It’d have been nice to run away with the vampire angle. The Red Angel did eat hearts after all, and hearts had blood in them.

  And I was going to be sick. My stomach turned, and I covered my mouth to stop a dry heave.

  “Hey, don’t puke in here,” Hank said, offended. Couldn’t blame the man—there was no space for a fan to air his hole in the wall if someone lost their lunch inside.

  I waved vaguely that I was okay and stumbled around the nearest corner into one of the short corridors connecting the main path with the maze of gloomy, smaller hallways running behind the shops.

  Zel followed me and offered the bottle. “Water?”

  Heck, why not. I’d paid for it. I snatched it from his hand and took a couple of good gulps. It felt surprisingly refreshing as it cooled my insides. Twisting the cap back on, I returned it to him. “Thanks.”

  He studied the bottle closely, then unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swallow, draining half the remaining contents. When he was done, he licked his lips. His expression grew pensive.

  It was the same exact expression he’d gotten after kind of kissing me.

  “Interesting taste,” he said.

  Yeah, I wasn’t going there, or I’d get stuck for the next hour, as I had often in the past few days whenever the memory returned.

  “Let’s ask Mark,” I murmured, leaving the short corridor.

  We made our way down to what passed as a food court in the underground Market. Belatedly, I remembered Mark was on the night shift and was about to tell Zel I’d changed my mind when I saw him behind the counter of Alisha’s burger place. Damn, the man lived here.

  “Ana,” he greeted wi
th excitement when he noticed us coming. “Grab a seat, I’ll be right over.”

  Since I’d already wasted my lunch money and the place wasn’t busy, I shook my head and leaned on the counter. “No time for food today.”

  Mark’s attention switched to Zel. Awe entered his expression.

  “He doesn’t have time, either,” I answered before he could ask.

  Zel tilted his head. “I don’t?”

  “Food or information,” I said dryly. “Your choice.”

  Zel’s gaze flicked to Mark. “Perhaps later.”

  Mark nodded vigorously, then turned to me. “You’re still with him,” he whispered in awestruck tones.

  I frowned. “Not with with. He’s just tagging along.”

  Mark blinked a couple of times. “Okay.”

  “Never mind that. What have you heard about—”

  Zel landed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in close.

  “—the Red Angel?” I finished.

  Mark’s expression lit up like a firework. “Dude. It’s so awesome. Have you seen the photo?”

  Unfortunately. “Yeah. Do you know who it could be?”

  “I read online that it’s a fake. Someone photoshopped red on an angel. But it looks real to me.”

  I gave Zel a dazzling smile. “Fake, you say? That makes sense.”

  Zel shook his head. “The Red Angel is real.”

  Well, it’d been worth a try.

  Mark conquered his awe and leaned closer to Zel. “Really? Have you seen her?”

  “No, but I’ve heard of her.”

  “You have?” Mark and I asked in unison, my words considerably more high-pitched than his.

  Zel nodded with great solemnity. “There are many stories about the Red Angel. She made a name for herself a thousand years ago.”

  I exhaled with relief. He meant the previous incarnation. “That doesn’t mean it’s the real thing now.”

  “She’s that old?” Mark asked, impressed.

  A new thought struck. If they thought it was still the old Red Angel in the photo, I would be even less linked to it. “Keyword being angel,” I agreed, trying to keep my glee from showing. “They’re all old.”