Conspiracy of Angels

Conspiracy of Angels by Michelle Belanger

Book: Conspiracy of Angels by Michelle Belanger Read Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Belanger
to a small set of keys. He slid the card through the mounted security unit and punched in a code.
    “So this is it,” I said over his shoulder. “Nothing useful. Just fend for myself?”
    Holding the door slightly open, Remy turned to me and sighed. His features were a mixture of irritation and regret—or at least something that I interpreted as regret.
    “I’ll make it quick, so pay attention.”
    “You say that like I normally don’t,” I responded.
    Remy glared.
    “OK, OK,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m all ears.”
    He nodded, then said, “You’re Anakim. That’s your tribe, like mine is Nephilim. You can walk between the realms of flesh and spirit—the Shadowside. Otherwise we’re essentially the same thing.”
    “I’m not a fucking vampire,” I said out of reflex.
    He actually slapped me across the face. I was too stunned to do anything but gape.
    “I know you’re not this stupid,” he said testily. “And you have to do something about those wings. With everything spilling out like that, things on the Shadowside are going to home in on you like a beacon. Moths to a flame.”
    He couldn’t have stunned me more with another slap. Instinctively, I flexed muscles that could not possibly exist, feeling that familiar burn down either side of my spine.
    “Wings?” I gasped.
    Sirens rose and fell in the distance, drawing nearer to the club. Remy made an impatient sound.
    “Pull them tight to your body. Then hide them with a cowl. It’s like a veil of energy, meant to obscure. Think about it and I suspect you’ll do it naturally. If not…” He shrugged.
    “Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds?”
    Remy fixed me with another piercing glare. “You asked me to help you. Don’t turn around and argue about it. Now,” he added, opening the door a little wider and pointing, “the front of the club is that way. Don’t go that way.”
    “I’m amnesiac, not an idiot,” I responded bitterly.
    “An improvement, then.”
    It was my turn to glare. “Funny,” I growled. “Now what else can you tell me?”
    He shook his head. “I’ve wasted enough time already. Saliriel will be missing me. But,” he added, an odd expression flickering across his features. He clamped down on it pretty quickly, but it left me with conflicted feelings of guilt and nostalgia. He fished in his pockets. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand.
    When I extended my own hand, he dropped two things into my open palm. The first was a set of keys. The second was a fat roll of cash. I examined the keys curiously. They had a small clear plastic fob, like the kind that comes on the keys to a rental car, but instead of make, model, and year, the little slip of paper inside the fob had a Lakewood address written in neat, tiny lettering, along with a random string of numbers.
    I arched a brow quizzically.
    “One of my safe houses,” he explained. “I think there’s about three hundred cash in that roll. You may not remember the circumstances, but I hold fast to my oath.”
    “Oath?”
    He chewed his lip, practically vibrating with some unspoken inner conflict. “If I were smart, I would turn your loss of memory to my advantage and ask that you release me right now… but that wouldn’t be fair.” He said it in a rush, more to himself than to me.
    “What are you even talking about?” I demanded. The wail of sirens grew closer.
    “I gave my word, and such things are binding. Good luck, Zaquiel.” It was a dismissal. He practically shoved me onto the empty street.
    I stared at the keys and cash in my open palm.
    He started to close the door. I shoved my foot in the way.
    “Gave your word for what?”
    Remy paused, his face half lost in the shadows of the nearly lightless stairwell. “To help save you the way you saved me,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Now get out of here, before you get yourself killed again.”
    He toed my foot out of the way and pulled the door shut with a metallic
click
. It

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