Among Us: A Supernatural Novel written by Carver Edlund

Guardian Angel

Vahe, who had become attached to the name of his former vessel, jumped into the nondescript Camry, and then slammed the door behind him. He leaned on his hip, shaking as he ripped open the panel under the steering column with his bare hands to get at the ignition wires inside. Glass from the broken side window crunched under him when he wriggled lower so he could see what he was doing. His longer-than-usual legs kept getting in the way.

He glanced over at the slut—Aya, Paulie snarled from the tiniest corner of their shared brain—while he stripped two wires with his fingernails and then coaxed a spark between them. She lay boneless against the passenger door, her hair plastered to her shoulder and neck. The Camry started up with a cough. He stuffed the wires back in place so he could press a couple of fingers to the dip in her throat.

Effing angel. Ugliest son of a bitch he'd seen in a while, and that included the hounds guarding the gates of Hell. That thing had been all kinds of wrong, squashed into a big blobby human body, the shadows of its wings crackling, for a split second, on the air like the Darksaber. It hadn't wanted to kill him. Not right away. All it had to do was touch him with a hand imbued with angelic grace and he'd burn out like a firecracker, leaving his empty vessel behind. Gone. Forgotten as though he'd never existed, like his original name. A demon was what was left of a human soul, corrupted and reduced, clinging to its twisted afterlife like scum on rocks. Less than dust, less than smoke. Once they used up their energy, they never came back.

Fortunately, the seraph had only wanted him out of the way so it could get at Sam Winchester. Which was fine by him. Let them kill each other. No skin off his nose.

He knew it wouldn't go down like that, though. From his awkward sprawl across the seats, he cast a worried glance out the windows. The aborted exorcism had severely drained him, and he had only managed to bring the girl—Aya! snapped Paulie—a couple of buildings down from hers. Any second now, that scary-ass soldier of God was going to come crashing onto the hood like a freaking condor and rip out his liver before frying him into an oily smear. It had almost killed the sacrifice, for crying out loud! It hadn't even cared that she'd been in the way.

If the girl—if Aya, he sneered at Paulie, who finally shut up like a good little incidental—was already dead, all this was moot. He adjusted his touch on her throat and waited, trying not to breathe.

Ah. Okay. Her pulse fluttered beneath her delicate skin. Still alive. But for how much longer? The whole side of her face and down her sweater were soaked with blood. Her chest barely flexed with her intermittent, shallow breaths. He tucked back her hair, tacky with drying blood. He let his fingers linger, light as kisses, on her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone.

Sirens began to wail. Approaching from several directions. Fuck. He had to get out of there. Now.

Vahe reached across Aya and buckled her seatbelt for her.

He brushed glass shards off his seat and then released the lever that let it slide back. He glanced at Aya. Then he checked the pedals. The Camry's gears clashed as he struggled to shift. He swore up one side of Hell and down the other side of Heaven. What masochist still drove stick in this millennium?

At last, he managed to get the transmission in gear without stalling the engine, but barely. It lurched out of its parking spot, and he steered it toward the exit to the street.

The fire truck, its front end angled wide to make the sharp turn, reared up like a white and chrome wall, blocking the driveway. Startled, Vahe tried to brake and accelerate at the same time, his foot rapidly tapping both pedals. He hadn't noticed how loud the sirens had become. The Camry broke loose and fishtailed. It surfed closer to the truck instead of away. Inches from its bumper, the driver laid on the horn. The entire sedan vibrated with the deep, throaty, heart-stopping sound. Vahe's bones rattled. Aya slumped in her seat until the belt fetched up under her jaw. Her lips shone slickly, coated in red.