Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

down. Her eyes rounded. She hadn’t known angels could do that. “You the delivery boy? Straighten up—you’re giving me vertigo.”
    The angel nodded then righted himself. He looked like one of those mythical cherubs the Renaissance artists had liked to paint, his face round and sweet, his hair all golden curls. “Sorry! I never saw a hunter before. I was curious.” His eyes went huge as his gaze drifted south. His wings had already been beating fast as he tried to keep position, but now they went hyper.
    “Eyes up or I’ll shoot a hole in your wing.”
    His head snapped up, cheeks red. He dipped slightly to the left before righting himself. “Sorry! Sorry! I just got out of the Refuge. I—” He gulped. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Please don’t tell Raphael.”
    Since the angel looked like he was about to cry, Elena nodded. “Relax, kid. And next time you have a delivery, come to the front door.”
    He winced. “Raphael said I had to do it this way.”
    Elena sighed and waved at him. “Shoo. I’ll take care of Raphael.”
    The young angel looked terrified. “No, it’s okay. Please don’t. He might . . . hurt you.” The last two words were less than whispers.
    “No, he won’t.” Elena was going to make the archangel swear an oath. Though she had no idea how. “Now go—Dmitri gets jealous.”
    The boy paled and took off so fast she barely saw him. Well now, that was interesting. As far as anyone knew, angels controlled vampires. But what if power was much more fluid? It was something she’d have to consider.
    Later.
    After she’d made Raphael promise not to kill, maim, or torture her.
    Locking the doors after checking on and watering her precious begonias—the yellow one was blooming like full summer wasn’t a month past, which put a smile on her face—she pulled the curtains shut and slid the gun back under the pillow. Only then did she pick up the message tube and unscrew it.
    The phone rang.
    She considered ignoring it. Her curiosity was killing her. But a quick glance at the caller ID showed it was Sara. “Hey. What’s up, Ms. Director?”
    “I was going to ask you the same question. I had a really weird report last night.”
    Elena bit her lip. “From who?”
    “Ransom.”
    “Figures,” she muttered. The other hunter had the strangest hobby, considering his fascination with guns and weaponry. The fact that they lived in a major metropolitan city full of light pollution didn’t seem to faze him. “He was stargazing, wasn’t he?”
    Sara blew out a breath. “With his super-duper high-powered gee-whiz telescope. And he told me you were, um, flying?” The last word was an incredulous question.
    “I’ll have to thank Ransom for calling me a star.”
    “I don’t believe this,” Sara whispered. “Oh, my—You were up there? Flying?”
    “Yep.”
    “With an angel?”
    “Archangel.”
    Pure silence for several long seconds. Then, “Holy shit.”
    “Uh-huh.” She started unscrewing the lid again.
    “What are you doing? I can hear you breathing.”
    Elena grinned. “You’re such a nosy friend.”
    “It’s in the best-friend rule book. Spill while I try to get over my shock.”
    “I had a delivery by angel a few minutes ago.”
    “What is it?”
    “I’m just trying to . . .” Her voice trailed off as she succeeded in removing the lid. Fingers trembling, she stared at the contents of the tube, a tube that was lined several times over with cushioning material. She had a feeling baby-angel had been meant to make his drop with far more care. “Oh.”
    “Ellie? You’re killing me.”
    Heart in her throat, she extracted the exquisitely crafted sculpture with careful fingers. “He sent me a rose.”
    A disappointed snort came through the telephone line. “I know you don’t date much, sweet pea, but you can get those for five bucks at the corner store.”
    “It’s made of crystal.” Even as she spoke, light reflected off the rose in a distinctive fashion and her mouth fell open. “No way.”
    “No way, what?”
    Disbelieving, she opened a nearby drawer, found a high-tensile cut-through-anything blade she didn’t use much because the weighting was slightly off, and tried to gently scratch a tiny part of the stalk. The knife made no impact. But when she tried it in reverse, the rose scratched the blade’s “scratch-proof” surface. “Oh, shit.”
    “Ellie, I swear I’m going to beat you to a pulp if you don’t tell me what’s going on.