Wicked Kiss

He wasn’t being very careful. He didn’t hesitate—just as he hadn’t hesitated with Cassandra.

At the last second, the gray brought his foot up to smash Bishop right in the face, knocking him backward. He landed hard on his back, but leaped back up a moment later, shaking himself off.

“Interesting,” Bishop said with a frown. He was now bleeding from a vicious cut on his forehead.

“Good word. Interesting. I’ll take it.” The gray grinned. “And I’ll take the girl when I’m finished with you and your friends. She’ll be happier with her own kind.”

“You can try to take her. You’ll fail.”

“We’ll see.”

Bishop studied him with narrowed eyes. His gaze flicked to the victim lying nearby before grimly returning to the gray. “What are you? I thought you were a gray, but you’re something else.”

“Nope. Just a run of the mill ‘gray.’” He even made sarcastic air quotes as his smile stretched. It was a term made up by Heaven and Hell, not by grays themselves. “Time changes things. By not slaughtering all of us last week, you gave us the time we needed to adapt, to evolve. We’re glad you sent Natalie’s ass back to the Hollow. She was a serious buzzkill.”

“Bishop,” Roth growled. “We need Zach. Her back’s broken.”

I stared at him with horror. I didn’t think a broken back could kill an angel—only being stabbed by the golden dagger could do that—but if she didn’t get healed quickly it could cause serious problems. She could be paralyzed.

Bishop swore under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

He stormed toward the gray again, but was deflected. He landed hard on his shoulder this time and I heard a sickening crunch. His dagger skittered across the pavement away from him.

“Bishop!” I yelled, terrified he’d been hurt as badly as Cassandra.

Roth got to his feet and rushed the gray but the gray easily slammed his fist into the demon’s face.

I watched this with sheer disbelief. Grays weren’t supposed to be any stronger or any more dangerous than humans. Except for the kiss.

But this guy...

He’d just taken down two angels and a demon without even breaking a sweat. What was going on here?

Bishop struggled to get to his feet, but the guy slammed his foot down on Bishop’s broken shoulder. Bishop let out a roar of pain and rage.

Without thinking, I started for him, fists clenched.

“Stay back, Samantha,” Bishop snarled. “Don’t get closer.”

My steps faltered. I trembled as I searched the side street, looking for something that might help.

The gray laughed loudly, and then glanced at me. “Ready to go?”

No. But I was ready to kill him. Seeing Bishop hurt had brought something out from deep inside of me—something that saw red and wanted to inflict injury.

But before I could take even another step closer—against Bishop’s wishes—the golden dagger sliced through the air, hitting the gray directly in the chest. He snarled with pain, then yanked it out and threw the now-bloody weapon away from him.

I spun to see who’d thrown it. Zach had arrived and was crouched beside Cassandra. His eyes blazed bright blue in the darkness. Bishop’s weren’t the only eyes that did that; it was an angel thing.

Zach had thrown the knife with perfect aim. And here I thought he was a peaceful angel who saved kids from drowning and could heal injuries.

He was also a deadly warrior when necessary.

For a horrible second I thought the dagger’d had no affect at all on this gray, that along with his super strength, he’d somehow become immortal and omnipotent.

Not the case.

He dropped to his knees. Blood soaked the front of his white shirt. He sent a hate-filled glare in my direction.

“Take a good look,” he growled. “This is your future whether you like it or not. Soon enough, they’ll kill you, too.”

He shuddered, then he fell forward onto the pavement.

There wasn’t even a moment to catch my breath before the Hollow appeared out of nowhere and opened wide.

I’d seen it twice before. Both times it had scared me so much I could barely function.

Seeing a black, swirling vortex appear out of absolutely nowhere wasn’t the most natural sight in the world. It opened like a mouth with a bottomless hunger, ready to take whatever supernatural was in its path. It was triggered by a death, by blood, but it didn’t seem to differentiate between the living and the dead. If you were in its path, then you were in serious trouble.

It was torture to think that Carly was in there somewhere—still alive. And I had no idea how to get her back out again.

The gray was closest. With fingerlike tendrils of living, breathing darkness, the Hollow reached out like a horrible hand and pulled him into the vortex. I swear, it was bigger this time, and stronger, as if all of the supernaturals it had taken had made it gain a few pounds. It shifted as if scanning the area, stopping on me for a brief moment. I swear, the Hollow looked at me. Right at me.

“Carly!” I screamed. “Carly! Where are you?”

Maybe if she could hear me. Maybe...

The horrific swirling gateway began to inch closer to me...nearer and nearer...

But then Bishop grabbed hold of me and tried to drag me back, his teeth clenched with pain from his massive shoulder injury. It was enough to snap me out of my daze. I held on to him tightly. The Hollow wouldn’t hesitate to grab me. It had tried before, and I had the strangest feeling that it was annoyed that it hadn’t succeeded.

“We’ll find Carly,” he shouted, barely loud enough for me to hear him over the roar of the Hollow. “But it won’t be tonight. I’m not losing you like this.”

To my right, I saw a horrific sight. Cassandra’s unconscious body was sliding across the pavement toward the vortex that had moved away from me. It reached for her, black smoky fingers curling around her ankles.

But then seemingly out of nowhere, Roth launched himself through the air, tackling Cassandra, and rolling them both out of range.

With no one left in its sights, the Hollow began to swirl smaller and smaller until it finally, thankfully, disappeared completely. The thunderous sound—like being in the middle of a tornado—vanished like somebody had pressed the off button on a gigantic stereo.

I still clung to Bishop. He pulled back from me, checking my face, my arms, making sure that I wasn’t hurt. His brows were drawn tightly together and his left arm hung slackly at his side.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

I fought to breathe normally, but I nodded. “Bishop, your shoulder...”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s shattered.”