Death Sword. Pamela Turner

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      “Angels also known as Watchers,” Xariel explained. “We left Heaven to live among you. Azazel was one of our leaders.”

      “Why should I believe you?”

      “Any reason to doubt us?” Metatron’s stern tone of voice reminded Xariel of a strict teacher disciplining an unruly student.

      “I don’t know.”

      “It’s a lot to process,” Metatron admitted, coming around the desk. He took Karla’s chin in hand, tilting her face until their eyes met. “Your destiny is to be an angel of death. Fight it and not only will you suffer, but others will as well.”

      He turned to Xariel. “Take her to meet Samael.”

      Xariel groaned inwardly but nodded, not allowing his expression to give a hint of displeasure. “It’d be better if you talked to him.”

      “There’s no reason Samael should question you. He knows it’s a direct order.”

      Xariel knew better than to argue. He opened the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the rest of the dysfunctional family.”

      He swore Metatron snickered as the door shut behind them.

      “Who’s Samael?” Karla hurried beside Xariel, her shorter legs no match for his long strides.

      “My boss. He and Gabriel are Metatron’s seconds-in-command.”

      They stopped at a bank of elevators. Xariel pressed the down button. Moments later a car door hissed open, allowing them access.

      They stepped inside the elevator. Karla stood in the corner, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket. She wore the same outfit from last night, but now she looked vulnerable and not at all like the confident young woman who’d challenged him. Xariel watched as she glanced from the doors to the control panel, chewing on her lower lip, as if fearful he’d hit the stop button and trap them between floors. Not that he had any intention, although he wasn’t eager to reach their destination any time soon.

      Bad enough she had tried to evade him at the nightclub. If Metatron wanted him to train her as an angel of death, she needed to accept her circumstances. True, she’d been thrown into a situation she probably felt powerless to control and, technically, she’d be right. But he also had to deal with this new problem thrust upon him, one he didn’t appreciate. If he had known Metatron’s intentions, he would have refused the assignment and taken any punishment.

      The car shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open. Karla glanced at Xariel before stepping out. He followed, steeling himself for the dreaded meeting. Face-to-face encounters with Samael always left him in a bad mood and he doubted this time would be any different.

      They stood in the hallway. Here, temperatures hovered near freezing and Karla shivered, despite her coat. Concrete walls painted battleship gray and floors covered with sky-blue industrial carpet added to the overall austere atmosphere.

      “It’ll get colder,” Xariel warned her as he led the way down the corridor.

      They stopped before a locked gray metal door. Xariel rapped three times. “Watch your step.” Before he could elaborate, the door swung open on silent hinges.

      Once inside, the door automatically closed and locked behind them. Karla peered around Xariel’s side, her expression apprehensive.

      He didn’t blame her. Samael’s office unnerved him, no matter how many times he entered it. Memories best forgotten reared taunting heads whenever he crossed the threshold.

      Here walls were painted dark red. Lanterns cast sickly yellow glows. Lights flickered madly, casting long, erratic shadows from ceiling to floor. Wall-to-wall black carpet rounded out the Gothic decor.

      Karla stepped forward, boots sinking in plush pile. Before Xariel could shout a warning, a massive black dog, its red eyes glowing, snarled and lunged at her.

      Karla screamed. She stumbled back against Xariel, who steadied her.

      “Black Shuck, heel,” he commanded.

      The hellhound lowered his head, glaring at her. Karla trembled. Xariel placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

      “It’s okay. Black Shuck doesn’t like strangers.” He scratched the canine’s shaggy head.

      After licking Xariel’s hand in greeting, the dog lumbered to where Samael sat behind an obsidian desk, carved and polished to a sheen, engraved demons, gargoyles, and skulls decorating the front and side panels. Black Shuck lay down beside Samael, muzzle resting on forepaws. Every so often, he growled low in his throat at Karla.

      “What brings you here?” Samael’s voice was smooth, like aged whiskey, but undercut with a hint of annoyance. Strands of blood-colored hair fell into his amber eyes and he brushed the bangs back, giving him an uncombed, careless appearance. Despite the chill, he wore short sleeves.

      Xariel drew a deep breath. This was it. He’d deal with repercussions later. “Metatron wants Karla to work for you as an angel of death.”

      He expected Samael to dismiss him with a derisive comment, but one never knew what the capricious angel of death and chief of satans would do or say.

      “I see.” Samael waved Karla over. He gave her a cursory look, yawned, and turned away.

      “What the fuck–” Karla looked over her shoulder at Xariel.

      Xariel put a hand on her arm, staying her. He shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. Angering Samael wasn’t like upsetting Metatron. Xariel knew firsthand the ramifications of Samael’s punishments. He wanted to spare her the unpleasantness.

      “Wait outside, human,” Samael ordered.

      The door swung open. Karla looked at Xariel for confirmation. He nodded. She shrugged and left, muttering expletives loud enough for them to hear.

      The door locked again. Xariel tensed. Samael moved toward him, a predatory look in his eyes. Xariel shrank back and Samael huffed in disapproval.

      “Not pleased to see an old friend?”

      “I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Xariel retorted.

      Samael smiled, tracing a finger up Xariel’s suit jacket sleeve. The latter trembled. “Maybe not. Still, why bring human filth here? A human as an angel of death?” Samael sneered. “Don’t tell me Metatron’s become senile.”

      “Hardly.”

      “What do you think?”

      “Doesn’t matter. I’ve my orders.”

      “Why not have her work with Gabriel?” Samael’s finger caressed Xariel’s nape, his touch icy.

      Xariel shivered.

      Samael’s smile turned into a smirk. “I forgot. You’re not on good terms with him, are you?”

      Xariel glared. “You made sure of that.”

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