Under Attack

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The sun was streaming through my curtains when I woke the next morning at seven. ChaCha was snuggled up beside me and she opened one marble-brown eye when I shifted; she let out a sound halfway between a growl and a moan. I let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a cry, fairly certain that most of my bones were on backward. When I stepped out of bed and caught sight of myself in the mirror I sucked in a shocked—albeit not surprised—breath. Bruises pockmarked every bit of skin that was exposed. In between the quarter-sized blue and greenish orbs were scratch marks and cuts already beginning to scab over. I figured today would be a whole heck of a lot of Cover Girl and just enough Advil to get me through. But then again, I thought as I slumped back onto my bed, where do I have to go, anyway?

I chased the negative thoughts out of my head and gave myself a pep talk: Today I was going to find a job (preferably one with fire-retardant clothing), and possibly one that included access to painkillers and gauze, and I was going to get my life back to normal. I might be a supernatural Vessel of Souls, but I was still Sophie Lawson, right down to my lime-Jell-O green eyes and my frazzled red hair—at least, what was left of it. I pulled a baseball cap low over my eyes and slid into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, marching to the front door. As I reached out for the knob, there were three short raps on the other side. My heart did a double-thump. Theoretically, the danger was gone. But in my life, staking the maniac du jour meant nothing. I rolled up on my tiptoes and cautiously peeked through the peephole.

“Dixon,” I said to myself. I yanked open the door and peered out. “What are you doing here?”

Dixon dipped his head in a supremely eighteenth-century manner. “Hello to you, too, Ms. Lawson.”

“I’m sorry, Dixon. Hello. What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?”

I looked Dixon over—tall, commanding, even standing in my reconstructed doorway. I didn’t notice any bulging holsters or daggers poking from his slick black suit and his eyes had the flat look of a satiated vampire. I decided he was safe and stepped aside. “Yes, come in.”

Dixon stepped around me and the little waft of cold air coming from his skin made me shiver.

“Nina told me what happened. Are you okay?”

I nodded, retracting my bruised hands into my sweatshirt sleeves. “It’s not as bad as it looks. We—breathers—just haven’t gotten that superhuman speed-healing thing down.” I tried to smile, but a drying cut at the side of my mouth prevented it. “Sorry about the state of the office.”

Dixon shrugged. “Our janitorial staff is used to much worse.”

There was a beat of companionable silence. I sucked in a slightly nervous breath. “No offense, but is there a reason you’re here?” I paused. “Do you want me to pay for the cleanup? Because my new job”—I twisted my sweatshirt in my hands—“burned down. So, I’m a little strapped for cash right now.”

Dixon’s usually slick smile looked kind. “No, of course we don’t expect you to pay for the damage.”

“Then ...”

I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but the six-foot, four-inch Dixon Andrade, all fangs and broad shoulders, looked bashful. “I wanted to offer you your job back.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “What?”

“I mean, if you’re still interested.”

“I am, yeah, of course. But—but Nina and Anson have pretty much taken over my old job and I’m not going to take Nina’s job. I guess if you have to let Anson go though ...”

Dixon shook his dark head of perfect, slick-backed hair. “Oh no, of course not. Nina will remain”—Dixon straightened his tie—“under me. This whole situation—with Ophelia and Alex—opened my eyes to a sect of the supernatural world that is currently being underserved. Sophie, I would like you to head up the Underworld Detection Agency’s Fallen Angel Division.”

I felt my cheeks push up into a grin. “Wow, sir, that sounds great. Except, I’m still the Vessel of Souls. Isn’t this going to be ... kind of dangerous?”

Dixon shook his head. “You will have full knowledge of any fallen angel activated anywhere in Northern California—likely before they even know you exist. Alex and I discussed how it would work.”

“Alex. Oh.”

“Besides, I think it’s best to always be one step ahead of the demon—or other—in the Underworld.” He grinned, his fangs catching the light. “So, will you come back to the Underworld Detection Agency, Ms. Lawson?”

I looked at Dixon’s outstretched hand, then glanced back up into his dark eyes. “One step ahead of the demons, huh?” There was a glint from the mirror across the room, and I grinned, then shook his hand. “Well, my grandmother always told me I should keep my friends close and my enemies closer.”