“Leave us,” he said with a wave of his hand.

And just like that, the club emptied. His face impassive, the angel stopped in front of me and Jace.

“Nero,” I began.

“Why am I not surprised to find you at the center of this chaos?”

Nero had an aura that toppled mountains and froze hurricanes. He moved like he owned every room, like he owned you—and you just wanted to please him, to make him look at you, to notice you. A hot sweat broke out across my skin, fear and excitement swirling inside of me.

“We were training,” I said weakly.

Nero’s hard eyes turned on Jace. “Training is over. Go back to the office. Your father is waiting for you there.”

“Yes, Colonel.” Swallowing hard, Jace trod across the floor and left the club. He must have known his father’s visit wasn’t about father-son bonding time.

Nero watched him leave, then his eyes snapped back to me. “Is there any point in lecturing you about proper decorum?”

“Probably not.” I leaned my back against the bar.

“It was foolish of you to try to compel Orsin Wildman.”

I didn’t ask how he knew what had gone down here. He’d probably lifted it from the minds of the partiers. Nero was an accomplished telepath.

“It was Jace’s idea.”

“The witch was wearing an amulet to ward against compulsion,” Nero said. “You will need to gain a lot more magic before you can break through a spell like that.”

“An amulet? So that’s what that glitzy necklace was.”

“You need to read more of the books I assigned you,” he replied with practiced patience.

“I am reading them. There are just so many to get through.”

His brow arched. “An excuse?”

“A fact,” I retorted.

“Being a soldier in the Legion of Angels is a constant struggle to improve yourself, to grow every skill, even the ones you think you’ve mastered. I’m trying to help you.”

“I know, and I’m trying.” I sighed. “I’ll try harder.”

“I didn’t come here to lecture you, Leda.”

“Then why did you come?” A smile tugged at my lips. “Want to make out behind the bar?”

Nero’s eyes flickered toward the bar. Silver sparked in them for a brief moment before sinking into the emerald depths. I winked at him.

“You live dangerously, Pandora.” His eyes dipped down, sliding across my body like molten honey.

“I love it when you call me Pandora.” That was his nickname for me, the bringer of chaos.

His hand brushed down my arm, his touch featherlight. Goosebumps prickled up across my skin, like I’d been zapped by lightning. And not in a bad way.

“I came to tell you about our new mission.” He lifted his hand to my neck, brushing back my hair.

“Our? As in you’re going too?”

“Yes.”

“And what mission has finally brought the illustrious Colonel Windstriker back to us?”

“I wanted to come back sooner.”

“Oh? Missing the days of torturing new initiates?”

“I missed you, you smart ass.”

I chuckled. “Tell me about this mission.”

“We’ll be guiding a group of Pilgrims across the Black Plains.”

The Black Plains was a scorched expanse that was home to hundreds of different monster varieties. The only people who went there were the criminal and the insane—and soldiers of the Legion because angels like Nero thought fighting off human-eating monsters built character.

“The Pilgrims are going on a holy pilgrimage to the battleground site of the final showdown between gods and demons two hundred years ago.”

“So I take it our job is to protect them from being eaten by monsters?”

“Yes.”

“How romantic.”

“Leda, I’ve assigned you to this mission because you know the area, not because I have any ulterior motives.”

“Of course not.” I kept my face perfectly serious. “Because that would be completely inappropriate.”

“Exactly.”

Ok, fine. Professional. I could do professional.

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“In half an hour.”

2

Monsters and Outlaws

The lobby of the New York office of the Legion of Angels was busy today. Two Legion soldiers dragged a handcuffed fairy with floppy blue hair between them. A third soldier walked in front of them, carrying an oversized bag marked ‘evidence’. Beyond the clear plastic front, simmering particles of rainbow-colored dust swirled in tiny cyclones. Pixie dust. It was a drug that made supernaturals lose control and hallucinate. And these weren’t hallucinations of the sunshine-and-daffodils variety. Pixie dust made people paranoid and murderous. Usually, the Legion left drug cases to the paranormal police. This fairy must have dealt to the wrong people.

Nero and I passed by a trio of soldiers armed to the teeth with guns and knives. Their expressions were as deadly as their weaponry. These were hard, cold killers, the sort of soldiers the Legion sent in to take down the really nasty criminals.

“Where are they going?” I asked Nero.

“West. On a joint operation between us and the Los Angeles office.”

“Monsters?”

“Outlaws,” he replied. “They’ve left a trail of destruction from the east coast to the west.”