Angel in Chains (The Fallen #3)(80)
Author: Cynthia Eden

The fire had died away. Faint ashes drifted up toward the sky.

Carefully, he inspected her shoulder. The brimstone bullet had gone right through her. “I want to get you to a doctor.”

Bones began to crunch behind him. He turned, keeping his hold on Jade—Az didn’t think he’d be able to let her go anytime soon—and saw Tanner fighting to shift on the ground. Fur rippled across his skin. His face elongated. His eyes widened. His legs shortened, reshaped, and the hands that grabbed at the earth became claws.

It was a slow shift, and one of the most savage that Az had ever seen. But shifts were meant to be savage, and powerful. After a time, Tanner’s human body was gone. In its place stood a trembling, black panther. The panther parted its jaws to roar, but fell to the ground. The beast’s form melted away until only the man remained.

Tanner hadn’t held the shift long, but it appeared the brief shift had done the trick for him. His wounds were closing.

They’d all survive. All live to face another day.

“I’ll take care of the cat,” Sam said as he stalked toward Tanner. “You hold tight to your lady.”

He already was. Az lifted Jade into his arms. Her head fell against his shoulder and her light scent drifted around him.

He swallowed.

“We need to get out of here”—Sam continued as he bent over Tanner—“before the humans come to find out why fire has been lighting this place up.”

With Brandt’s body gone, only the ash and scorched earth remained to mark his passing. The nearby tombs had been smashed, and rubble littered the area.

When the humans arrived, Az knew they’d invent some explanation for what had happened this night. They always did. Leave it to the humans to be the ones who actually covered their tracks.

This cemetery already had a reputation. When the mortals discovered the wreckage, they’d blame it on the ghosts that were said to slip from these graves. Or perhaps the scorched earth had come from a voodoo ritual gone wrong. Either way, no one would ever think of angels.

They never did.

Yes, the humans would tell stories to explain this night away. And more tourists would come to see the destruction left in his wake.

Sam slung Tanner over his shoulder. Tanner growled and Sam just laughed. “Yeah, you can thank me later,” he said.

Az strode from the rubble. He passed an old, faded statue of an angel. She was looking down at the graves. Sorrow was etched onto her face.

Angels weren’t supposed to feel sorrow.

But they did. They could even regret the loss of a killer’s life.

Can’t . . . change.

Things could have been different for Brandt.

Things will be different for me.

He heard voices then. Excited, high-pitched voices that he knew belonged to humans. The other shifters had long since run away. If they wanted to keep living, they’d keep running.

His gaze met Sam’s, and he nodded. Together, they lunged straight up and over the high stone wall that surrounded the cemetery. When Az’s feet touched down, his knees didn’t buckle. Sam landed beside him a bare second later.

Then they rushed forward together, moving fast into the night. Human eyes couldn’t track them any longer.

And only ash was left in their wake.