Demon and the Fox - 23. Enemy Angel

Feeling bored, Malachy had Kyle go out for an errand and bring back his guitar, which he’d left behind in Nick’s bedroom. He missed it too much.

“My baby,” Malachy had said when Kyle came back with the beautiful Gibson instrument.

It felt heavy and perfect in Malachy’s arms.

Right now he played for Hazel as they sat on the bed together. Twilight had come and gone and the view from their hotel room was of the Upper East Side’s luminous night life.

He was playing a classic. Hazel really liked it, but she didn’t recognize it at all.

“I can’t believe you don’t know this song.” Malachy shook his head, disappointed. His fingers kept playing the chords.

Kyle was on the couch with his laptop and headphones. Jackson was on the other bed in the middle of his opened books. They were the heavy, scary med-school books type. Jackson’s semester was over, but he was taking a summer class. He was driven like that.

“She’s seventeen,” Jackson said without looking up from his books, “of course she doesn’t know Eric Clapton. She owns a deadmau5 t-shirt.”

“Deadwhat now?” Malachy asked.

Hazel just shrugged helplessly.

“Keep playing though,” she urged him, “I like it.”

So Malachy kept playing. What wouldn’t he do for those pretty gray eyes? Plus, also, he loved playing music. For anyone. For himself. He’d started that with Shay back in the fifteenth century. They would learn to play every instrument they felt like playing. Shay would sing, sometimes. He had a pretty good voice. Malachy would sing too. His voice wasn’t very good. But he would sing anyway.

He sang right now, as his fingers danced across his Gibson: “Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging, darling please. Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.”

“Who’s Layla?” Hazel asked.

“Nick,” Jackson snapped at once, “I’ll admit you’re a pretty good guitarist, but I’m sorry to break it to you man, you’re not a singer.”

Apparently, Nicholas’s vocal chords were no better than Malachy’s.

He took a break, laying the guitar on the floor next to the bed. The hotel room was cozy. Queen sized beds, comfy couch and sofas, fresh hardwood floors, shaded lamps on the desks, sparkling clean bathroom, and their own cute little kitchen. Everything was in warm, glossy tones of beige and browns. And they had AC, which was great, because honestly, they were still in May, but it felt like July out there these days.

“Sasha never told me you played guitar,” Hazel mentioned.

She leaned back on the pillows, and Malachy did the same, throwing one arm under his head. He shifted closer to her, and grimaced as his skinny jeans made him uncomfortable. Malachy could not understand the twenty first century. Why skinny jeans for men? It just didn’t make sense. And why were smart phones so big when jeans pockets were so small?

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” he told Hazel, wiggling his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him. He laughed and threw it back at her.

“No pillow fights,” Jackson warned.

Hazel leaned closer to Malachy, and lowered her voice. “Seriously though, you should join Sasha’s band. You two could be friends again.”

“His band sucks.”

“But he doesn’t,” Hazel retorted. “And I thought that Asian drummer was pretty good, too. They do need a new guitarist, though.”

Malachy sighed as he heard the hidden message beneath her light-hearted words. He tended to forget that his girlfriend had been friends with Sasha before she was friends with Nick—or himself. This was getting confusing.

He shook his head clear.

“I don’t really like bands. I’m a solo act.” He grinned.

Hazel smiled. She was about to say something, but Jackson interrupted her.

“Says the guy who wants to join our pack,” he said.

“He’s already in our pack,” Hazel retorted. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

She threw a pillow at Jackson. He caught it and tossed it to the floor.

“No pillow fights,” he said again.

Kyle looked up from his computer, but he just shrugged and glanced back at the screen.

Hazel placed her hand on Malachy’s chest and looked up in his eyes.

“I’m worried about Sasha,” she whispered. She probably didn’t want Jackson to interrupt them again.

Malachy took her hand. “I know.”

Gabriel had called Hazel earlier to ask if she had seen Sasha lately, or heard from him. But Hazel hadn’t. Gabriel had called Nick’s phone several times, too. But Malachy had turned it off, for now. He couldn’t bear it. He felt a pang whenever he thought about Gabriel. Malachy didn’t think he could speak with Gabriel again without blowing his cover. That first time, at the coffee shop, had been… intense.

It was starting to hurt not to be able to tell Hazel the truth, either. Or Jackson, or even Kyle. The four of them were already making plans for the next full moon. Jackson had mentioned he wanted to make a little trip to the Adirondacks and camp in the mountains for Malachy’s first full moon as a wolf. It felt very special and bonding to be planning this together, and Malachy just wished so very much that he could tell them his real name. That they would stop calling him Nick.

He wished he could show Hazel his true face, too.

But that, Malachy supposed, would be a tad awkward.

And besides, they had other things to worry about. Like werewolf hunters.

They were safe at the hotel, though. No one knew they were here. Not even Jackson’s lawyers. So there was no way—

Malachy sat up straight when he heard a fist knocking at their door. He was pretty sure room service wouldn’t bang on the door like that. Besides, no one had ordered anything. Even Kyle heard it. He yanked his headphones off and sprung to his feet, tossing his laptop onto the couch.

They were all dead silent. Jackson leaped to the floor quietly. Malachy and Hazel also crawled out of bed with careful movements. The four of them stood together in the middle of the hotel room, waiting.

“It might be nothing,” Hazel whispered. “Someone that got the wrong door number, or—”

Another bang. Three, to be exact. Louder this time. Hazel jumped.

“We could call the cops,” Kyle said in a hushed voice.

But Jackson shook his head. “No, we’re already in enough trouble with the cops. They won’t leave me alone with their questions.”

Thump, thump, thump. It came again. Then, “We know you’re in there.”

A masculine voice through the door, laced with rage.

The siblings stiffened. Malachy’s eyes snapped to Hazel.

“Do you recognize that voice?”

Hazel nodded.

Jackson was very pale. “Jared,” he said.

“Who’s Jared?” Kyle asked, his voice stifled.

“It was before you joined the pack,” Jackson started to explain.

But they froze as they heard quick footsteps, then voices behind the door again.

“Val!” a feminine voice said.

“I got it, I got it,” a similar voice replied.

“Open it.” The first voice again. Jared, according to Hazel and Jack. “Come on!” Jared’s voice urged on.

They heard the sound of a card being scanned in their door’s lock. Malachy and Jackson both stepped in front of Hazel reflexively.

The door opened.

Four people stormed in. A guy with tattoos and glasses, a dark-haired young man with a Walking Dead t-shirt, and two red-headed girls—twins, from the looks of it. One of the twins had a crossbow, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

It happened fast. She aimed for Malachy—she aimed for the heart, but he shifted just in time and she got his shoulder instead. The guy with the tattoos was closing the door behind them. The one with the black hair pointed a gun at Hazel.

Malachy bit back a groan as he tore the black-tipped arrow from his shoulder. He pressed a hand there to stop the bleeding. Hazel tried to place herself in front of him, but Malachy wouldn’t let her.

Tattoo-guy and the other twin had no weapons, but they took a fighting stance.

“Do you recognize me?” the dark-haired guy asked, aiming his gun in turn at Hazel, then at Jackson. Malachy recognized the voice: Jared.

Malachy was trying to catch his breath. He blinked the pain away, and focused, ready to bounce.

“It’s been a long time,” Jackson said weakly.

“Why are you doing this, Jared?” Hazel cried. “You killed my mother!”

“She deserved it. All of you deserve it!” Jared stood side by side with crossbow-girl. Malachy was keeping his eyes on both of them.

Jackson and Kyle were glancing at each other. But they weren’t doing anything, for now.

“You know what?” Jared said. “Your mother didn’t even recognize me. She didn’t even remember what her husband did to my family.”

“I remember!” Hazel said in a rush. “I never agreed with my father’s ways. We defeated him. Don’t you get it? Things are gonna be different now. I’m trying to reach everyone my father sent away. Bring the old members back. You’re welcome to come back, Jared. You don’t have to do this.”

But Jared scoffed at her. “Too little, too late, Hazel. Bring the old members back? Are you joking? There’s no one to bring back. It’s too late. Too late.”

He was getting worked up. He was ready to shoot. The girl with the crossbow was ready, too. The others would attack. Malachy could tell. He ignored the sting in his shoulder and stared at the four werewolf hunters, getting ready to calculate their movements, to anticipate their reactions. They had already hurt him; he wouldn’t let them do it again. And he certainly wouldn’t let them hurt his friends.

As Malachy was deep in focus, Jackson and Kyle didn’t waste any more time. They transformed into their wolf forms so fast that it took everyone by surprise; even Hazel and Malachy. They stepped back. Clothes were torn off and the wolves snarled and growled. A big silver wolf and a brown bristled one.

Jared fired his gun, but whatever he was aiming at, it missed. And the wolves were already on him.

The twin that had no weapon was shouting. “That’s impossible! It’s not the full moon.”

“Don’t underestimate us!” Hazel shouted back as she stayed close to Malachy. They stumbled back into one of the beds.

The wolves bit Jared’s arms so he couldn’t hold his gun anymore. Tattoo-guy tried to stop them but wolf-Kyle attacked him. The twins looked at each other, and they made for the door.

“Clever girls,” Malachy said. “Don’t come back!”

They didn’t look like they ever wanted to come back. They slammed the door open and took off.

These people hadn’t expected to fight wolves tonight. They had expected to take them down in their vulnerable human forms. Malachy smiled proudly as he watched Jackson and Kyle in their wolf forms. They had stopped attacking—they didn’t have the intent to kill—but they had done a lot of damage, and they were still snarling. Their long, sharp fangs were frightening; even Malachy shuddered. But that could be the throb in his shoulder, too.

Jared’s arms were bleeding. Tattoo-guy’s arm was bit too, and his chest had been clawed at by wolf-Kyle. Jared made a desperate attempt at picking up his gun, but wolf-Jackson yanked it away with his claws.

Jackson growled at Jared, silver ears low.

“Leave!” Hazel said. “Just go away and never come back. We don’t want to kill you.”

Tattoo-guy looked down at his bite wound. “I’d rather die than become one of you!”

Hazel stepped forward. “You won’t become one of us. And you won’t die. Only a bite on the full moon will either kill or change a human. It has to be the full moon,” she insisted.

Tattoo-guy’s attitude changed. He held the door open, and gestured for Jared to go with him.

Jared’s expression was one of hatred, but also defeat. He held tattoo-guy’s arm for support, and they left together, blood trickling down their clothes.

Hazel stalked across the room and closed the door. Then she leaned on it, closing her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“It’s over,” Malachy said. “They won’t come back. Not right now, anyway. And if Jared ever comes back, we’ll kill him. We’ll have no choice.”

Hazel said nothing.

Kyle and Jackson were transforming back. When they were back to normal, they gathered up some fresh clothes and got changed. They were catching their breath. Experienced and skilled as they were, it looked like the transformation still took a toll on their bodies.

Hazel seemed to suddenly remember something. She rushed to the bed and took Malachy’s arm in her hands.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worst,” Malachy said. He said it in a teasing, light-hearted way, but of course it was true. This was nothing.

Still, it stung.

Hazel ran to the bathroom and came back with a towel to stop the bleeding.

Jackson and Kyle had finished getting dressed.

“Thank God you guys were here,” said Hazel as she pressed the towel to Malachy’s shoulder. “Are you guys hurt?”

“We’re fine,” Kyle said, and Jackson nodded quietly. They were both looking down at the gun, like they were wondering what to do with it.

“I don’t get it.” Hazel frowned. Her eyes met Malachy’s. They were troubled and teary. Malachy hated to see her in pain. “How did they find us?” she asked.

Malachy lied. “I don’t know.”

But he knew. He had seen a flash of white next to the window. Like a ghost. And then it was gone.

An angel trying to kill me. That’s a first, even for me.