Page 62 of Princess of Bael

Yes. I definitely knew what had happened then. “I see.” I considered the house. “Well. Should we knock?”

“He has an arsenal of silver in there, so I’ll let you do the honors,” she suggested.

“Silver?” I questioned, arching a brow. The substance had been eradicated on Earth as a safety measure to allow demons to prosper.

“Gleason’s a former chemistry professor,” Kayla explained, proving she’d learned quite a bit about him whilestalkingGuinevere and the others. “He’s also Evangeline’s personal weaponsmith.”

“I’m sorry; have we met?” a deep voice spoke from the side of the house as a Nephilim with a head of thick auburn hair appeared. Given his commentary and proximity to the home, I assumed he was the Nephilim Zebulon had sent us to meet.

Gleason.

He had a gun in one hand—aimed directly at Kayla’s head—and a blade in the other. “Because that’s a hell of a lot of private information you just spouted off about me, demon shebitch.”

My eyebrows rose.

Kayla just sighed. “Halfling. And if we’re picking nicknames, then I prefer ‘hellbitch’ over ‘shebitch.’?”

“Excuse me, I’ll amend.Hellbitch,” the Nephilim deadpanned.

“Thank you,” she replied with a sweet smile.

Then she threw a knife at the Nephilim’s gun, the metal locking with the barrel to render the weapon useless.

Great, I thought, my jaw clenching as Gleason dropped the pistol with a curse. He had a second one in his hand a moment later, the trigger firing as Kayla leapt behind a tangle of bushes.

Gleason unleashed several rounds, the sound deafening.

“Enough,” I snapped, my sword appearing in my hand and angling toward the reckless Nephilim’s neck as I spread my wings wide to make it clear just whom he’d pissed off.

Gleason spun around, ready to fight off my sword, only to freeze as he took in the sight of my feathers.

He fell to his knees in the next moment, his gun lost to the ground beside him.

Because only an Archangel could force their wings out in the human realm, something I clearly should have done upon arrival. But it was typical procedure to take on a humanoid appearance when walking among the unsuspecting mortals.

Kayla’s sigh tumbled through the air as she muttered, “You ruined my fun.” She rolled out from behind the bushes and picked some leaves from her hair.

I ignored her in favor of the suicidal Nephilim before me. “Did Zebulon fail to mention our arrival?”

The Nephilim proved his penchant for death by shifting back to his feet without my permission. The arrogant bastard had the nerve to meet my gaze, too. “Lord Zebulon told me to expect company, but he didn’t tell me what kind to expect.”

“And do you typically greet your visitors with insults and weapons?” I demanded.

“Demonic ones that I’ve never met before?” He glanced at Kayla before looking back at me. “Yes.”

“I’m not a demon,” I told him through my teeth.

“No, but the hellbitch clearly is,” he retorted.

“Kayla,” I corrected, ready to slice off this jackass’s head. “Mymate’sname is Kayla.”

Kay

Ezra’s wordsreverberated through my mind on repeat.

“Mymate’sname is Kayla.”

He’d uttered the statement with such vehemence, not because of the meaning behind the phrase but because of the reason he’d felt compelled to voice it.