Page 3 of Nazab

Hearing her plaintive tone made his strange protective urge rise again. Nazab wondered if she had the power to manipulate emotions. If so, why wasn’t she using it to force the humans to fight each other?

The two men reached the fence that divided the two properties and fired a few shots between the narrow gaps. Monica screamed in pain and Nazab flinched when he felt a bullet score his left bicep. He didn’t have a mark on him when he glanced at his bare arm. The cambion raced out from behind a detached garage to run down a pathway along the side of the house. Tall shrubs hid her from his view.

“I’ll shoot her in her good leg to disable her,” Wallace whispered to his friends and readied his weapon.

Monica dashed out from between the house and the garage and Wallace fired at her. She’d been expecting it, due to her enhanced hearing, but she still barely managed to avoid it. Nazab stepped out from behind the van and locked eyes with the cambion. She skidded to a stop and they stared at each other in something close to recognition.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, she had blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair in an intricate braid. Five-foot-five, her skin was pale and her clothes hung on her. She’d obviously had a sturdier build and now needed to find clothing that fit her better. He noticed she was wearing mismatched shoes that weren’t even the same size.

Her eyes dropped to his groin and she snickered despite her dire situation. Nazab looked down to see he had a raging hardon. He’d never been turned on just at the mere sight of a female before. He was just as surprised by his reaction as she was, if less amused.

Nazab’s head turned when he sensed danger. Not just one, but over a dozen soldiers appeared on his radar. He had seconds to decide what to do before he would be surrounded.

Another shot was fired, snapping the knight’s attention back to Wallace. The human’s soul was completely black now. Monica let out a noise of pain as the bullet winged her. Again, Nazab felt like he’d been the one who’d been grazed. Shallow furrows were now on her left bicep and her right thigh.

Snarling in rage he couldn’t explain, Nazab called on his sword. Monica gaped at him as he used the weapon to dispatch the mob. She cowered away when he advanced on her, but hurting her was the last thing he had on his mind. “Hold on, female,” he said as he swept her off her feet and into his arms. “I’m getting you out of here,” the warrior said grimly. Her arm went around his neck just as his enemies arrived.

“Nazab!” the soldier in the lead shouted when he reached the far end of the cul-de-sac. “Bring my offspring to me and your life will be spared!” he called out.

Turning to face his foes, Nazab saw the resemblance between Monica and the soldier immediately. They shared the same reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes beneath his foe’s red tint. “Thamuz,” he said in distaste with his upper lip lifting.

Phul, Lachial and Vetis were in the group who stood at the far end of the short street. There were seventeen Soldiers of Chaos in total, with dozens more waiting in the background.

“You’re one of the good aliens, right?” Monica asked.

He glanced at her to see she looked terrified. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m afraid we’re about to be surrounded, female,” he said, noting the soldiers in the background were beginning to spread out to the left and right. The two humans who’d shot at her from the other property were fleeing for their lives. He sensed them scaling the fence to gain entry to the next property.

“Is that guy really my dad?” she asked, gesturing at Thamuz.

“He is,” Nazab said with a frown. Surely she had to know her own sire.

“I’m going to loan you some of my energy to get us the hell out of here,” Monica said, then put her hand on his chest. “Use it wisely,” she warned him, then she unleashed her magic on him.

Chapter Three

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MONICA FELT LIKE AN idiot for letting herself get trapped in the cul-de-sac. She didn’t know this area very well and now she was in serious trouble. Everything seemed to come to a halt for a few moments when the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen in her twenty-five years stepped into her view. It was obvious he was attracted to her when his towel began to rise.

Her brain was still trying to catch up as she watched the almost naked warrior cut all but two of her former friends down. His magical gold and silver sword vanished and he swept her into his arms like a hero out of a romance book. Then her fantasy that she was actually asleep and dreaming was ripped away when the evil aliens turned up.

Monica had sensed the extraterrestrials before and had even been close enough to feel their black souls once. That had been enough to convince her to leave Hell’s Kitchen. Nazab felt similar to the red-eyed demons, but his soul was white. Hearing him confirm he was a good guy was enough for her to loan him some of her strength.

Nazab took a deep breath when she infused him with her life force. Turning towards one of the houses that blocked their way, he blasted into action. She held on for dear life as the warrior jumped up onto a tall brick fence and launched them both into the air. He landed on the tiled roof of the house and took a running leap onto the roof of the house it backed up to.

Monica looked over his shoulder, but their enemies had no chance of following them. Not when he was moving so fast that the wind made her eyes tear up. The white towel that had been around her rescuer’s waist was left behind in the initial burst of movement. She didn’t dare look down to see if he was still erect. It would be disastrous to ruin his concentration right now if she started laughing at him.

Peering through slitted eyes, she watched the homes blur past them as they left the Bronx far behind. Nazab sprinted for two hours before the energy she’d loaned him abruptly ran out. She had plenty of time to examine the tattoo on his chest of a sword and fancy-looking wings that flanked it on either side. Apart from introducing themselves, they hadn’t spoken much.

The warrior tripped over something and they both went sprawling to the ground. Monica shielded her face with her arms as she slammed into the asphalt and rolled over and over.

Nazab didn’t roll as far as she did. He looked up and saw the now empty left leg of her jeans. His head turned and he saw her sneaker lying several yards away. It had landed on a large rock, which elevated it enough that he couldn’t see what it was attached to. His look of intense horror was enough to make her break into snickers. “Your leg!” he exclaimed, probably thinking she was crying in agony. Her shallow bullet wounds had faded during the long sprint, but now she had fresh scrapes and bruises.

“I’m fine,” she said, still giggling as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “My prosthesis came loose. It happens all the time.”

The blank look on his face made her lose it again. “You have a prosthetic leg?” he asked as he climbed to his feet. He loped over to the metal contraption and picked it up. “This is ingenious,” he marveled, reminding her that he’d just arrived from outer space.

“Hand it over, big guy,” Monica commanded, trying to ignore his magnificent nakedness and failing miserably. “We need to get you some clothes,” she muttered.