Without Light or Guide by T. Frohock Page A

two of her contacts among the Messengers. No one is talking. The only thing I know for certain is the angels are using Los Nefilim to carry out assaults on one another. I’ve lost two good Nefilim to bad orders and angels’ games, and our numbers aren’t so great that I can afford to throw Nefilim into battle. What Prieto did to you, Miquel, and Rafael was unconscionable.”
    Suero and Miquel’s calm acceptance of Guillermo’s suspicions told Diago Los Nefilim had suspected such a war for some time. And because I wasn’t a member of Los Nefilim, Miquel couldn’t talk to me about either the situation or his fears. He’d carried his burdens alone. Now Diago understood why Miquel spent so much time with Suero. He needed someone who understood his troubles, and Suero fulfilled a role Diago had consciously avoided. I had purchased peace for myself, only to drive Miquel into Suero’s confidence. I can do better by him now and be the kind of partner he has always been to me.
    Shamed by his selfishness, Diago glanced at Miquel as the yard came into view. The shadow of a beard darkened his cheeks. The top button of his shirt had come undone, revealing the hollow of his throat. He turned his head and said something to Suero, and as he did, his dark eyes caught Diago watching him. His mouth broadened in a smile meant for Diago and no one else, unleashing a flood of desire low and deep in Diago’s stomach.
    Diago touched his chest where he wore his wedding band on a chain beneath his shirt and returned his lover’s smile.
    Miquel winked at him, and then their moment of intimacy ended as he returned his attention to the grounds, but the vigilance he’d exhibited in the city was tempered here. Wards and sigils protected Santuari, so most of the Nefilim’s patrols were cursory at best.
    But he watches anyway. What was it Miquel had said? We watch out for our own.
    Suero stopped the car and cut the engine. The villa’s doors opened to reveal Lucia, Ysabel’s governess. In truth, she served double duty as the child’s bodyguard during the day when Guillermo was absent from the grounds. Between her presence and Juanita’s, Guillermo had surety of his daughter’s safety.
    He insisted on the same protection for Rafael. Diago would soon have to choose a “governess” for his son. One thing he knew for certain: he didn’t want Lucia watching Rafael any longer than necessary. She made no secret of her hatred for daimons . . . or of her love for Miquel.
    Lucia patted her light brown hair, which was coiffed into fashionable waves. She smiled at Miquel and stood sideways in the doorway. After making sure she had Miquel’s eye, Lucia smoothed her dress. Her palm moved flat against her stomach and traveled down to fall away just before touching her crotch.
    The maneuver looked like something he’d seen in one of those lurid American films Miquel loved. Diago recalled Señora Ferrer and her almost identical attempts to seduce him. Did they all watch the same movies? Lucia possessed all of the subtlety of a cat in heat.
    He clamped a sharp comment behind his teeth and did well to hold his tongue as he and Miquel passed her. No need to antagonize her; not when the object of her desire was devoted to him. He positioned himself to block her view of Miquel and gave her his most charming smile.
    Her glare should have turned him to stone.
    â€œPapa!”
    Diago whirled, forgetting all about Lucia.
    Rafael ran down the stairs as fast as he could, and Diago held his breath, hoping the boy wouldn’t fall. He was small for a six year old, and Guillermo’s house was old, with tall narrow steps.
    â€œLook at what I can do!” Sure-­footed as a goat, Rafael jumped to the flagstones from the second step, lifted his arms, and twirled. He stamped one foot and simultaneously slid the other, executing the chufla, a flamenco dance step, like a