Page 3 of Gargoyle Reaper

Michael still hadn’t answered the most pressing question from Ezekiel’s point of view.

“Michael, I understand that reinforcements are sorely needed now. But that won’t solve the issue of the ones who are injured. I’m drained every time I use my essence to heal another, and Ronen’s injuries were particularly vile.” Ezekiel shook his head. “As I stand here speaking with you, I’m still not completely replenished. What if several slayers were to be brought in at once?” Ezekiel locked eyes with Michael. “I need help. Aren’t there other angels who can provide the healing light here on earth?”

Michael’s eyes held a hint of amusement. The archangel was seriously beginning to piss him off. “Heaven’s population isn’t coming down to earth on an ongoing basis.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s bad enough this annoying situation has forced me to spend more time here than I care for.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “But I believe you’ll find your prayers answered in good time.”

One of his least favorite aspects of Michael was his propensity for being cryptic. As far as he was concerned, Michael should be more forthcoming, considering how dire the circumstances were. Ezekiel wasn’t a big fan of games.

“Not enjoying your time here is one thing.” Ezekiel crossed his arms, hoping his stance signaled to Michael that he wasn’t amused. “How about we discuss what needs to be done in the meantime?”

Michael stared him down. “As I said, everyone is being called into action.” He turned to Cassiel. “Choose a slayer in the lair, your best. Then you, Ezekiel and whoever you pick will use the seer’s impressions to hunt down the relic.” He sighed. “There’s no more time to waste, and I have an appointment with the Heavenly Choir that I’m late for. So many holiday preparations.”

Ezekiel barely bit back an acerbic comment before Michael continued. “If you need anything, Uriel is in the region and can be called upon.”

Cassiel nodded briskly. “Understood. I'll gather the team, and we'll head out immediately.”

As Michael vanished in a flash of light, Ezekiel turned to Ronen. “You should rest here and recover. We'll need you back at full strength soon enough.”

Ronen moved to stand but wobbled, clearly still drained from his ordeal. “I’ll head to my room.”

“Not from the looks of it.” Ezekiel helped him tohis feet, then turned to Cassiel. "Who do you have in mind for our third?”

Cassiel smirked. “Oh, I think you know exactly who I'm thinking of.”

Ezekiel groaned. “Not Darius. Anyone but him.”

“Come on, Zeke. He's our best tracker, and you know it.” Cassiel nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Plus, this gives you two a chance to kiss and make up.”

Ezekiel pursed his lips. “The absolute last thing I wish to do with that gargoyle is kiss him. He doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, and I don’t appreciate that.”

While many of his fellow slayers got some whenever and with whoever they could until their mates came along, Ezekiel found his right hand did the job effectively. It also didn’t leave him with an empty spot in his heart after the deed was done, and he realized he was still alone.

Cassiel nudged him again while he struggled to help Ronen out of the room. “Don’t you mean he got a bit too tailsy with you?”

Ezekiel groaned.Why me? “Not funny, Cass. Not even close.”

She moved to the other side of Ronen and draped his arm around her neck. “Come on. Admit it. That was hilarious. Who doesn’t love some great tail play?”

Ezekiel decided not to encourage her by continuing the conversation. As they made their way down the long hallway of the stone lair, his mind wandered to what Michael had revealed. If he was being called to duty despite being a healer, and the mated slayers were being brought back, were they on the brink of losing the battle completely?

He forced his own selfish needs from his mind. The fate of all was what mattered, not whether he ever found his mate. Ezekiel swallowed hard. If only he could’ve touched his mate one time.

Chapter Two

Archer pulled into the driveway of his brick colonial home, exhausted after a long night of performing emergency surgery on a trauma victim. The temperatures had dropped unexpectedly, and ice covered the roads. He loved his job as an orthopedic surgeon, but the hours could be grueling. At least he didn't have a neglected family to worry about.

Living alone suited him just fine. Sure, sometimes it could be lonely, but whatever. His career kept him busy. And whenever he had time off, there were the season tickets to the Red Sox that the hospital provided to the top surgeons. He grunted to himself as he stepped out of his BMW. A couple of those guys weren't too annoying to hang out with.

It was still too early to check the mail, so he made his way to the front door. All he wanted to do was jump into the shower then fall into bed. However, as soon as he stepped into the foyer, he knew something was terribly wrong. His security alarm didn't beep, and he wasn't the type to forget to set it.

Archer flipped on the light then sucked in a sharp breath. What the hell? His large living room looked as if an actual tornado had torn through it. A surge of anger built inside him, and he marched forward, wondering how the thieves who'd broken in managed to get past his security system. The company he’d hired assured him they were the best. He gritted his teeth. As soon as he assessed the situation and called the police, he was going to have a very terse conversation with the so-called security company.

Right as he stepped into the open room, a movement like a shadow caught the corner of his eye. Archer whipped around, squinting his eyes in the dim area and trying to see if anyonewas there. The house was eerily quiet, and a thread of unease coursed through him. Either whoever had broken into his home was still there, or he was delirious from exhaustion and hallucinating.

Not wanting to take any chances, he decided to call the cops now rather than later. Archer reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone when a deep voice sounded behind him.

“Don’t call anyone, it’s not safe.”

Archer whirled around, startled to find a tall, handsome man staring back at him with dark, almost black eyes that held a tinge of a golden glow around the irises. Before he could ponder the odd occurrence, the seeming glow disappeared. That left him with nothing to do but consider the meticulously dressed man with striking features, deep bronze skin, and a piercing gaze.

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