Well, that and the fact that he’d once taken down a nest of rogue vamps with nothing but a pair of blessed throwing knives, a bottle of holy water, and a bad attitude.
We’d met Angelo and his mate, Emerson, three years ago when the vampire king at the time, Isaac Black, put out the call for any and all fangs to help take down a prince of Hell. Only nineteen, we’d already carved our name in blood across the hunter world and saw it as a chance todrop a business card with the nephilim that were participating. Turned out to be one hell of a party involving djinn and fiends, peris and divs, wolves and a whole moon-damned archangel.
One of the best fights of my life.
Afterwards, the nephs hosted a celebration, and we stuck around, Cas to network and sniff around for more jobs, Koa to suck down knowledge of races we’d never met before, and me for the free food. I ended up hanging out with Angelo and his shifter buds, hit it off, and had been allies ever since.
“Easy, Brummy,” I muttered as the pup lunged after a squirrel. “You’re supposed to be her guard wolf, not a glorified hunting dog.”
He ignored me, of course, and I smirked.
Stubborn furball.
But he was ours now, and we’d all gotten weirdly attached to him. Even Casimir, who’d deny it if asked.
Then Brumous suddenly stopped in his tracks, his ears up and his eyes locked on something. I followed his gaze and saw a big gray SUV rolling up the drive.
“Relax, Floofster.” I scratched behind his ears in that place he liked. “Allies. Not food.”
Hedidn’trelax, but he didn’t go into panic mode, either.
Progress.
“Go fetch Cas and Ko, okay?” I looked into his eyes, and he took off for the back door like a shot. We were communicating better and better since the telepathy thing, which I took as a good sign.
The SUV came to a stop, and Emerson del Vecchio stepped out first, all six-foot-six of him unfolding from the driver’s seat like a mountain deciding to take a stroll. His shadow alone could’ve shaded a small village.
While glad to see him, I knew something was up. Emerson didn’t leave Luna Posy Everleigh’s side.
Ever.
“Escaped luna babysitting detail?” I called as I approached. “Thought you only left Five Fangs for apocalypses.”
Angelo della Morte emerged behind him. The Angel of Death looked like he always did: As if he’d just walked off the set of an action movie, a blade-straight silhouette in a leather jacket that probably had more knives sewn into it than fabric, his blond hair catching the sunlight.
“You’rethe apocalypse, Zane,” he said, his Italian accent softening the edges of his voice.
“Good to see you, man.” I shook his hand. “Didn’t expect you to tag along, Emerson.”
“Luna’s on bedrest.” He shrugged. “Triplets. Her alphas are hovering like mother hens. I got bored. Figured I’d keep Angelo company.”
“Demoted to passenger princess, huh?”
“Something like that,” he said, his deep voice dry as toast.
“So.” I clapped my hands together. “You ready to work some magic?”
“Always.” Angelo inclined his head.
I led them out to the patio, where the first blooms of wisteria hung heavy from the pergola, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the woods surrounding Evermere.
“Make yourselves at home.” I gestured to the sturdy wrought-iron chairs arranged around a low table. “We don’t bite. Well, not unless asked.”
Angelo rolled his eyes, but Emerson smirked. Casimir and Koa came out of the house, then, Ko twirling a dagger like it was a fidget toy and Cas’ expression was as blank as his white henley.
“Thanks for coming,” Cas said.
“We owe you one.” Koa leaned against the pergola’s post. “Assuming you don’t screw this up.”
