Angels of Darkness

over two centuries ago and half a world away.
    But she was here now, rising from her crouch at the edge of the roof. Thick black hair tumbled to her waist. The long, curling strands and a few wisps of orange silk formed a scanty covering for her breasts. Scarves knotted at her left hip flirted with her inner thighs, hinting at but never revealing anything other than smooth expanses of skin that she’d dyed indigo.
    Behind her, white feathered wings arched over her head. She must have still been concealing herself from everyone else. Even apathetic kids would stop and stare at an almost-nude blue woman with wings standing atop a school building.
    He couldn’t stop staring, either. Couldn’t stop remembering that he’d once unwrapped those scarves. That he’d buried his hands in that impossibly thick hair before burying himself in her body.
    She’d left without a word the next day. When he’d tried to discover why, the door he’d knocked on remained closed. The note he’d sent returned unopened.
    He hadn’t tried again. He’d been young, and damn stupid in those days, but her message had been unmistakable: Leave me alone.
    So he had. And afterward, he’d realized that Radha hadn’t been the woman who’d gotten away, but the one who should have never been his in the first place. Friends, yes. During those early years of training in Caelum, she’d been a companion he valued and trusted, until he’d given in to lust that he never should have felt. That had been the end. A friendship ruined, and Marc had never been certain whether he’d been blessed for simply having known her or cursed for having lost her.
    But he’d done his best to put his feelings away after she’d put him aside, and Radha hadn’t spoken to him in almost a hundred and forty years.
    Yet now she sought him? Not without reason—and that reason likely had nothing to do with him or one awkward sexual experience when he’d been an overeager virgin.
    Spreading her wings, Radha stepped from the roof. She gently glided to his side and landed soundlessly. God, she hadn’t been this close to him in so long. He’d almost forgotten how small she was, the top of her head only reaching his shoulder, a waist small enough to span with his hands.
    A thin gold chain circled her bare belly instead, with a ruby pendant filling her navel. More gold ringed her slim fingers, and the tip of her right forefinger was capped in a sharp gold claw.
    Her gaze lifted to his. Flecks of gold lightened the brown of her eyes, outshining the rows of gold loops in her ears, the small diamond stud piercing her nose.
    â€œHello, Marc.”
    â€œRadha.” Putting her aside had also taught him to put everything else away, to focus. “Has something happened?”
    â€œTo whom?”
    â€œTo anyone that would explain why you’re here. Do you have news from Caelum?”
    Bad news, probably. It seemed that the only news from Caelum of late had been of that kind, beginning a little over a decade ago when thousands of Guardian warriors had chosen to ascend to the afterlife, leaving far too few of them left to fight demons. Half of the remaining Guardians had been killed by the bloodthirsty nosferatu, and a year later, one of their only remaining healers had been slain after a vampire betrayed another Guardian. To save them all—to save everyone on Earth—the most powerful Guardian, their leader, had sacrificed himself and had been trapped in Hell. There had been victories along the way, too, but nothing seemed to make up for the loss of so many . . . and the bad news just kept on coming.
    The last time he’d seen Radha had been a week before, during a gathering in Caelum when they’d all finally seen the crumbling ruin the realm had become in their leader’s absence—temples shattered, every dome and spire nothing more than piles of marble rubble. Radha had stood on the opposite side of a broken courtyard, weeping as she’d taken in the devastation.
    So different from the first time he’d ever seen her, in another courtyard in another part of the once-beautiful, shining city. Ten years after his transformation, he’d stumbled across a public orgy. The realm was all white marble and the Guardians were of every color—but Radha had been the only blue, and she’d been the first in the mass of bodies that he’d truly seen. Once he had, he