To Kill an Angel (Blood Like Poison 3)

“You know I won’t stay away one second longer than I have to.”

“I know. Promise me you’l be careful,” I said, an image of a hel hound popping, unbidden, into my head.

“I promise,” he pledged.

He planted a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose and then he was gone. With Annika.

Pushing that irritating thought aside, I focused on my friend and on enjoying her company while I could. My gut told me that a storm was coming and the only one I could think of would likely mean the end of…wel , me.

Pickings were slim so Cade and Savannah were just finishing up some macaroni and cheese when Bo and Annika returned. We went over the game plan one more time before we left Sebastian’s house and set off across town. We made our way toward my house and then beyond, toward the barn where I’d watched Trinity take her last breath and Aisha lose her head. Literal y.

Devon carried Savannah the whole way. He said he’d prefer to do that than risk the car. I could only assume he was having bad flashbacks of the four of us being attacked in his car not so long ago.

When we arrived at the edge of the field in which the barn sat, we watched the area for at least fifteen minutes and didn’t see a single thing.

“The door’s fixed,” Bo observed after it seemed that there was no activity in the vicinity.

“What?” I asked.

“The door. To the barn. Remember, it was hanging off its hinges when we were here last.”

I looked again and, sure enough, the door was no longer resting, skewed, in the door frame. It hung straight and secure.

“Wel , now we know someone’s been here.”

We al watched the barn silently for several more minutes before beginning step two.

The next phase of Bo’s plan involved Bo setting off to skirt the property from one direction, Annika the other, while Devon, Savannah and I continued to watch the barn for any signs of life, be it vampire, hel hound or some other guardian-type of creature.

Several minutes later, they both returned with an al -clear, neither having seen any sign that the barn was being guarded or even monitored. I found that particularly odd considering who was supposed to be inside the barn, and when I looked at Bo and saw his frown, I realized that he felt that something was amiss, too.

“Maybe they haven’t put her in the barn yet,” I said quietly to Bo. “I mean, it’s not like I can real y tel anything about time or date in those visions. And you didn’t get close enough to smel anything, did you?”

“No, I stuck to the tree line around the field.” He turned to Annika. “Did you?”

“I stuck to the tree line, too. That was the plan after al , right? Don’t get too close and alert anyone to our presence until we secure the perimeter?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Could we have been wrong? Maybe it’s not a trap.”

Bo’s frown deepened.

“No, I stil think it’s a trap. I’m just thinking now that there’s something or someone waiting for us inside.” I could see the wheels turning as Bo studied the barn. “Alright, let’s go ahead with the plan and check around the barn.”

Bo, Annika and I darted across the dark field to the barn.

Annika went around one side of the building, Bo and I the other, and we met on the back side. Annika shook her head, indicating that she saw nothing amiss. Bo did the same.

She went back around the way she’d come, as did we, and we met back where Devon and Savannah were waiting, near a smal stand of white pines that hovered at the field’s border.

We col ected them in order to complete the next scouting portion of the plan. Al five of us quietly circled the barn, hoping that if there was someone around that we couldn’t see, that Savannah might. When we’d made our way around the entire barn and Savannah saw nothing, Annika circled to the front of the building as we rounded the barn to a smal door in the back, effectively covering both entrances.

Stopping in front of the aged panel, I brought Savannah around in front of me and guided her face to a crack in the door so that she could scan a portion of the interior of the barn with her blind gaze. When she shook her head indicating she saw nothing, I urged her aside and stuck my nose up to the crack, inhaling as deeply and quietly as I could. I let the myriad smel s of the barn wash through my sensitive nasal passages and I picked the scents apart one by one.

The barn smel ed of musty wood, moldy hay, dirt and oil.

The odors were so strong that I nearly missed the hints of baby powder, shampoo and strawberry jam in the air. But when I final y recognized them, my heart sped up. Lil y was inside after al .

Turning my ear to the crack, I listened as closely as I could manage. I heard no scuffling sounds, the sounds a child would make playing in the dirt. I heard no trace of her delicate sing-song voice. I heard no shal ow breaths or rapid heartbeats. I heard nothing but an eerie, worrisome silence.

Two things occurred to me in that moment. One I refused to consider. I absolutely would not—could not—even entertain the notion that Sebastian had kil ed Lil y, that she was lying inside, cold and dead.

The second thought should have been a concern long before this, but I’d never imagined much past getting rid of Sebastian in order to pretty much save the world. I’d not considered life afterward, primarily because I would likely not be a part of it.

But what about Lil y? What would become of her after al this was over? I would likely be dead, the man she thought was her father would be dead and she’d be al alone, some sort of hybrid creature in a world that didn’t understand her and probably didn’t want to.

I leaned back and looked at Bo, trying my best to keep the panic out of my eyes.

“Bo,” I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Wil you promise me something?”

He looked immediately concerned. I could hide nothing from him.

“Anything.”

“If something should happen to me, promise me you’l take care of Lil y.”

Bo stepped forward and grabbed my face in both hands, looking deep into my eyes.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, trying to smile reassuringly, but I was pretty sure that I failed miserably.

“Promise me anyway.”

“Ridley—”

“Please, Bo. Promise me that you’l take care of her.”

“I promise. We’l take care of her together.”

Satisfied that he at least knew my wishes, I turned back to the barn door, took a deep, steadying breath and lifted the old wooden slat that held the panel closed.