Chapter Two

Dante groanedthe moment Malachi's voice sounded behind him. He knocked back the rest of the top-shelf whiskey he'd been consuming the better part of the afternoon in a shitty downtown LA bar. Apparently, his evasion skills needed fine tuning.

"Hello, my friend. What's it been? Eighty years?"

Dante peered over his shoulder with a smirk. "Can't a man get drunk in peace?"

Mal hopped onto the bar stool next to him, and Dante raised one eyebrow. It seemed his fellow Shadow Slayer planned on staying for a bit.

Guess he didn't take the hint after I disappeared.

"That's the quandary, though, isn't it?" The corners of Mal's mouth twitched as he considered him."Getting drunk for a gargoyle is nigh impossible."

Dante gave his friend a one-shouldered shrug as he signaled to the bartender, pointing to his empty glass. "Challenge accepted."

Mal tsked as he shook his head. "This is the warm welcome I get? No, hey Mal, great to see you! Sure missed you, buddy."

Dante snorted. "Buddy?" He angled his head, peering at his fellow slayer and closest friend. "If the only reason you're here is because Michael sent you, then you're not much of a buddy."

Even as he said the words, he was filled with a twinge of remorse. But if Mal really was only interested in finding him at Michael's behest, that sting would be worse.

Mal arched his eyebrows. "My, my. Aren't we the spicy one tonight?"

Dante smirked. Damn, but he missed Mal. They'd had plenty of great times together.

"Only tonight?"

They both broke into laughter, and the tension was broken. After a hearty pat on his back, Mal tilted his head.

"Look, you owe Michael an explanation. You had to know this day would come. From what he's been able to tally, you've eliminated seventy-eight rogues in the past eighty years. That brings your total kills to one hundred and ninety-two. That's way past your heavenly obligation of one hundred and thirty-three."

"Pfft. That's not even one death a year. I'm actually embarrassed I haven't snuffed out more."

The bartender turned, whiskey bottle in hand, and narrowed his eyes at them. He continued to regard them with suspicion as he poured more booze into Dante's glass.

Dante chuckled as he handed the bartender a twenty. Gargoyle shifters on a mission from God didn't carry plastic.

"He takes his video game stats very seriously." Dante paused to give Mal a wink before returning his attention to the confused bartender. "Jealous that I've wiped out so many more big bosses than he has."

The bartender"s features softened. "Tell me about." He snorted. "This one dude I play with thinks he's the shit when it comes to Mario Kart." The bartender rolled his eyes. "What a joke. I beat him every time because he always chooses the dumbest vehicles."

Dante's regret at engaging in conversation with this human held no bounds. He would've preferred being fucked by a demon. Unfortunately, humans were the only company he'd had since he'd been on the run from his fellow Shadow Slayers, which went a long way in explaining why he rarely spoke to anyone unless he absolutely had to. Ordering booze and convincing a little hottie to suck him off in the men's room was about as much social activity as he was capable of.

Dante locked gazes with the bartender, using his inner fury to spark his eyes until he was sure the amber glow would get his message across.As Dante had intended, the guy paled then quickly backed away.

Mal groaned. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yup. There are days I'd rather rip my tail off than speak another syllable to a wretched human."

Mal scrubbed his face with both hands. "You're nothing if not an anomaly."

Dante regarded him. His fellow slayer might be a knock-out when it came to looks with his smoldering deep green eyes, full kissable lips, and wavy chestnut hair that contrasted nicely with his tan skin. But the guy was pushy as fuck and didn't know when to step off. As much as he'd hated to do it, going alone had seemed like the right call back then. But lately. He wasn't so sure anymore. The endless routine was beginning to get him down.

"Oh yeah?" Dante slammed back his drink then slid the glass away from him. He'd had enough of the putrid surroundings. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. Your entire purpose is to save humanity from the gargoyle rogues who've teamed up with hell's demon rogues, yet you despise them."

Dante grunted. "Who says my purpose is saving humanity? That whiny bitch, Michael? I'd like to see him show up and say that to my face."

Mal laughed at the same time Dante groaned again. Dammit. He'd been goaded into speaking the Archangel's name and summoning him.

Michael instantly materialized behind Mal, the only warning being a muted glow that suddenly filled with the achingly beautiful angel. A crown of golden wavy hair topped his head, and his icy blue eyes were mesmerizing. With porcelain skin, a long, lean form, and strong, perfectly formed hands, all manner of beings ached to be with the celibate Archangel. Not that Dante would ever do him. Gorgeous or not, the mouthpiece of the Divine Spark irritated the fuck out of him. It was always his way or the highway.

They stared each other down. If Michael had something to say, he should speak up. Dante didn't care what he thought. After all, what did Michael expect him to do? Sit around and wait for demons and rogues to fuck Earth up?

Giving a shit about the humans had nothing to do with that. Earth was his hangout. Shitty bars notwithstanding, the mountains and cities, oceans and forests, everywhere there was vitality and life. Energy flowed through him, filled all his senses when he was on the Earth plane.

If Earth were overtaken, that would mean he'd be stuck back in Heaven. Talk about boring. Everything glittered and sparkled, bright prisms of light all-encompassing. Everyone smiling and singing. The glorious nighttime, the stars, the stillness, and the smoky grays when the moon was full would no longer be his to revel in.

If the humans got something out of him saving the world, well, good for them. But that had nothing to do with his intent.

Michael let out one of his musical laughs. "Hmm. Stubborn as ever. I wonder what you've been up to lately. After all, it's been so long since we spoke." He tapped his finger to his chin. "Won't the Divine Spark be thrilled to discover you've been located? Especially since your fated mate awaits."

Michael's stunning blue eyes flashed, his gaze piercing through Dante as if it were an actual blade, a warning that his patience was at an end.

"Now that one obligation has been fulfilled, it's time for you to fulfill the next."

The bartender chose that moment to make a reappearance. "Hi, what can I get you?" He grinned as he approached them then froze when Michael turned his way. The bartender cleared his throat. "Nope." After spinning on his heels, he scurried away.

Michael regarded them with a self-satisfied smirk. "You see? There are those who know when to back off, to follow their instincts and do my bidding."

Dante resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Archangels could be so testy, and he hadn't exactly endeared himself to this particular one in millenniums.

He dragged his fingers through his short, mussed hair. "Look, I explained to you already during the Civil War that humans are a hot mess on a good day. I want to get this over with so I can relax and go back to warding off evil somewhere nice. Perhaps the mountains? But the only reason I left you guys in the dust is I didn't feel like waiting for everyone to get off their asses to finish this job."

Michael gritted his teeth. "There is an order to the battle, a strategy. When you deserted your post and took things into your own hands, you upset the Divine Spark's plan. Your fated mate plays an integral part in that plan."

Dante pressed his lips together. "That's another thing. I don't need some fated mate to hold me down. I'm fine just hanging around and fucking the occasional willing participant." He gave him a sneer. "But thanks for thinking of me."

Michael narrowed his laser eyes, the color darkening this time. "The occasional fuck doesn't produce progeny. If we've learned nothing else, it's that we need to replenish our protection ranks. We"re at great risk with so many gargoyles defecting to the demon uprising."

The whole conversation was beginning to give Dante a massive headache. "You never know. One of the little cum-dumpsters I'm banging could get knocked up."

Michael's fury seemed to be seeping out of his now glowing body. Just a smidgeon more rage and his flames would probably ignite around him, possibly even his wings would whoosh out. Oops. Showing his heavenly side on the Earth plane was definitely against the rules. Dante loved fucking with the self-righteous ass.

Mal squeezed Dante's shoulder. Hard. "Ease up, Dante," he whispered. "You might be in the lead with rogue kills, but there's only so much shit-talk an Archangel can take."

Michael reined in his glow, clenching and unclenching his fits as it diminished. "Listen to your friend, Dante. He's the only ally you have left among your kind. In case you're too dense to remember, you can't procreate with any human you unload in. He has to be your chosen one, and that can only be a Nephilim."

Dante remembered. He simply didn't give a shit. "Oh, right. I forgot. That long-lost race of half-breed angels." He snapped his fingers several times as if trying to recall what he'd known since the moment he'd been formed. "Remind me again? Weren't you behind that little faux pas?

Michael continued to glare. "I didn't know the angels were going to Earth to party when I gave permission. I was still getting my wings under me back then." He sighed. "But the Divine Spark has since found a way to combine the two races so we can bring forth more protectors." His top lip curled. "No offense, but gargoyles are too easy to lure to the darkness. At least with some angelic blood, their loyalty to the Divine is more certain."

Mal put his hands on his hips. "You know, I'm starting to get offended. I hope you're not throwing all gargoyles into the same pot. I mean, I've always been—"

Mal and Michael froze, Dante tensing as all his senses went on alert. Tiny pin-pricks, almost like mini bee stings, covered his body, signaling that shadow gargoyles were nearby. The sensation built in strength as it became clear that there were many gathering at once.

They didn't usually move around in such large numbers. Drawing attention to their presence didn't further their cause—it only made it easier for them to be discovered by the Slayers. That could only mean they were desperate enough to be willing to take dangerous chances.

A holy relic is nearby.

As soon as he locked in on what direction to head, Dante insulated himself from the noisy surroundings of the bar. He blinked, grounding his physical self for a moment.

The only one left standing next to him was Mal, who also seemed to be re-grounding. Michael had vanished, which was to be expected. Regardless of legend, Archangels didn't fight. That was what he and his fellow Slayers had been hired for.

"You'll need my help." Mal arched his eyebrows.

Dante pressed his lips together, no longer used to fighting with a partner. But Mal was the only gargoyle he trusted with his life.

He gave a sharp nod. "Then let's kill some demon ass."