Ashes of Angels by Michele Hauf

me!” Cassandra cried.
    The Sinistari swung a look toward her and snorted. “I am not charged with your protection, mortal female, only to slay this wicked one.”
    Sam chuffed. “Me, wicked? Look who’s sporting the black metal like some kind of satanic death cult worshipper.”
    â€œSatan has no dealings in our situation. I possess divinity,” the Sinistari hissed. “Unlike you.”
    Sam shrugged, offering a dismissive splay of hands. “So my feet have touched mortal soil. So have yours.”
    â€œNot before I was created,” the Sinistari corrected.
    Cassandra knew the Sinistari had been forged from the Fallen. Twenty angels were caught as the original two hundred Fell and were made into something dark, dangerous and set only to the one task—slaying angels. While the Fallen had been imprisoned in the Ninth Void awaiting summons, the Sinistari lived Beneath. Cassandra had never imagined what the place was like, and now she didn’t have to because a part of it stood before her.
    â€œThis won’t even be a fight,” Sam taunted. “You can’t slay me unless I shift. And I don’t intend to do that again for awhile.” He shrugged a bare shoulder, wincing. “Hurts like a bitch when I’m wearing mortal flesh.”
    â€œYou will shift if challenged,” the Sinistari answered confidently.
    Cassandra had made it to the doorway, gripping the now-loose doorknob, when the Sinistari reached around and slapped her against the kitchen counter.
    â€œDon’t touch her!” Sam roared. He beat his fists against the invisible walls. “Let me out, Cassandra. I will kill him for touching you!”
    â€œSweet,” she managed. “Commit murder for me?”
    â€œAnything for you, cupcake. And I prefer the word smite over murder. ”
    She quirked an eyebrow. Was he joking or actually being serious? It was impossible to determine with him.
    The Sinistari growled at her, exposing sharp teeth. On second assessment she decided it was ugly and not at all beautiful. But if he had it in for the Fallen, then she may be able to escape while the two engaged in battle.
    Never one to shun opportunity, Cassandra spoke the reversal spell, then dodged to avoid Sam as his release sent him plunging forward.
    The Fallen charged the demon. Metal clashed with solid muscle and might. They soared backward into the door, which splintered and spit out the tangled opponents into the hallway.
    They exchanged punches that sounded like heavy sacks of sand hitting metal. Neither appeared the least injured, nor reacted with pain. They faced off before the door, spoiling Cassandra’s escape plans.
    One of Sam’s fists missed the Sinistari’s face and knocked out a section of door frame.
    Eyeing the Taser lying on the floor, Cassandra crawled out from behind the kitchen counter and grabbed it.
    The demon kicked high, and his faltering equilibriumteetered him backward. Sam lunged and the twosome tumbled down the stairwell, damaging the plaster walls and bending the iron railing as they went at it, wrapped together in a death clutch.
    But Sam had spoken correctly. The Sinistari, who possessed a blade capable of entering the Fallen’s glass heart, could only slay the angel if he was in winged, half form. She wasn’t sure why, but that was how it worked. So he was safe—
    â€œOr not.”
    Cassandra clasped the uppermost railing and watched as the angel shifted, releasing those deadly silver wings. The hallway was tight and his wings could not stretch out completely, but a full unfurl wasn’t required. He swung them as weapons toward the Sinistari.
    The demon’s only purpose for walking this earth was to slay the Fallen. But from the looks of it, this angel slayer had met his match.
    Thrusting high the hand that clutched the halo, Sam let out a deafening cry. Cassandra stumbled backward, slapping her palms to her ears and tucking her