Hexed

an escort for you.”
    “An escort?”
    A bob of the head. “Yes.” She touches my hand. “But some things will remain the same. You will not be vampire on the ghostly plane. You will be human. You will have no power except mortal strength and cunning.”
    Ah, yes. I remember that, too. “I suppose taking a weapon with me is out of the question.” I let a sigh escape my lips as three pairs of troubled eyes flash in reply. “When is this escort supposed to arrive?”
    “Before he does,” Susan says, “there’s something—”
    Her words are choked off by a blaze of white light, brilliant, blinding. A sound like the furious beating of wings. Instinct says I should close my eyes. Curiosity keeps them wide open. At first, it’s like looking into sun reflected on snow. Disorienting and too bright. Then gradually a shadow forms—like a negative film image. Dark is light, light, dark. Finally, my vision clears. Wings. Outstretched. There one second, gone the next. All that’s left then is the figure of man. He looks up at me and my breath catches in my throat.
    He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
    An angel.

SIX
     

     
    I’M NOT EASILY IMPRESSED BY HANDSOME men—my last boyfriend was a model who looked like Adonis but had the soul of Judas. Nevertheless, this creature is striking. With his blue-green eyes and close-cropped head of tight curls, he looks like another Greek god—marble turned flesh and blood. I know the witches beside me are thinking the same thing. I heard their gasps when he materialized out of the light. Now we all stand here with our mouths hanging open in astonishment, too stunned by his beauty to do more than stare.
    But he’s looking just at me, and he has an expression on his face that seems to reflect surprise. Did he think I wouldn’t be here, that I’d refuse to cooperate? Did he think me a coward? Then he’s smiling, his gaze taking us all in.
    His smile is benevolent, but there’s something darker lurking under the surface. I recognize it even if the others don’t.
    And they obviously don’t. They are spellbound by his beauty.
    He’s dressed in jeans. Tight jeans. And a form-hugging T-shirt of white cotton. His clothes suggest he’s comfortable with modern attire while the vibe he’s sending off is ageless and old. He drinks in the appreciation and wonder with the casual acceptance of one who is used to this reaction. Who welcomes it.
    Who expects nothing less.
    Which brings the vampire to her senses even if, like the witches, the human Anna wants nothing more than to run her fingers along those bulging biceps.
    It takes effort, but I douse the flame of carnal desire and focus on the reason he’s here.
    “What kind of creature are you?” I ask.
    “What kind of creature do you think I am?”
    “An angel?” Ariela’s voice is a whisper beside me.
    He laughs, a sound as pure as the ring of silver on crystal.
    “A deity?” From Min Liu, breathless.
    “A cupid?” Susan takes a step forward.
    I put out a hand and hold her back though I understand the impulse to want to touch him. “Why don’t you tell us what you are?”
    His smile sends off dizzying waves of pleasure, warm, like the effects of the sun bursting through clouds on a cold day. I fight the urge to close my eyes and bask in it.
    He’s gauging my restraint. A little of the warmth seeps away.
    “You are a tough one,” he says with a sigh that could be of disappointment or chagrin. “I am your escort to the tribunal.”
    “That I guessed. What I’m asking is what kind of creature are you?”
    His eyes narrow a little and in that instant, he doesn’t seem as harmless as he’s pretending. But the impression is gone just as quickly. The beatific smile is back. He spreads his arms. “I am Samual, a simple messenger of the powers that be. I mean no harm. I am here to ensure your safe passage to the tribunal. What happens there is of no concern to me.” He looks around. “I do the same thing you do, Anna Strong. I return those who have fled justice to face their accusers. Nothing more.”
    He does the same thing I do? So he knows I’m a bounty hunter. It’s the last part, though, that gets my attention.
    Fled justice, huh? I’m tempted to wipe that smile from his face with a scalding reply. But he’s right. As a bounty hunter, his mission is the same as mine. The guilt or innocence of a fugitive has never been my concern.
    “A supernatural bounty hunter, huh? That I understand.