My eyes flash open, and soft moonlight is bathing the narrow walls around me. A tall, eerie figure stands in the small entrance of the hidden passage, blocking my view of the fights behind him.
A vampire.
I’ve never been so fucking happy to see one of the deadly members of the Citadel in all my life.
Twelve
Izara
“We need Azazel.” I stumble on shaking legs along the rooftop, searching for any sign of the glittering gold specks.
Of the fucking jeans-wearing pixies.
I lean over the side of the wall and stare down to the drop below, and a scream captures itself within my throat.
A creature clings to the side of the gray brick. Its claws are the size of kitchen knives, with dark skin pressed to the skeletal structure of its body. A forked tongue flicks out to hiss at me, and then it lunges.
I fall back with a cry. Wings burst from its back, and its nails sink into my sides as it hauls me up, shooting toward the sky.
“Princess for my King,” it hisses in its foul language.
Pain radiates through my body as its claws sink in deeper. I dangle aimlessly through the air before I let loose my power and it jolts through the creature.
It dies instantly, and then I’m falling through the sky. I have a brief moment to get my bearings, spreading my wings out behind me and leveling myself back onto the roof.
I fall to my knees, and Malek and Saint are there instantly.
“Izzy.” Saint’s shaking fingers push the long strands of hair from my neck. “Are you okay?”
I wince and look down. Blood is dripping from the open wounds at my sides, and I pray to whatever angels are listening that the things claws weren’t laced with poison.
“Fine. I’m fine,” I grunt. Malek helps me to stand, and I try not to slip and fall. “He was trying to take me to my father. There’s probably a price on my head for betraying him.”
Even though I was betraying him this whole time, it still hurts. To know that I’ve outlived my usefulness.
“We’re sitting ducks here. We have to move. More will probably come.” Energy is crackling through my body so hard that my hands shake at my sides.
“We can’t move Syko,” Saint says. “It’ll kill him.”
“If we stay here, he’ll die.” Malek is already crouching down by my bleeding nephilim. He starts to lift him, and Syko’s whole body jerks as he convulses in pain.
“Stop!” Saint shoves Malek away protectively. “You’re hurting him.”
Syko calms, like Saint’s voice is a smooth balm to his senses.
“We can’t move him until we find Azazel,” I say firmly. “He’s the only one who can help him.”
I hope. Those words go unspoken. I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to find him amidst all this mess.
Those fucking pixies. Where were they when you needed them?
“How do you summon a pixie?” I ask abruptly.
“Click your heels three times and say, ‘Come, little pixie, come’ while you do it,” Saint says.
My lips part, and I blink at Saint’s serious expression.
“That’s from a fucking movie.”
