“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Did I stutter?”

I had been expecting a right cross. Instead, I got kicked in the stomach.

My body crumpled like a paper doll. I couldn’t help clutching the injured spot with both hands, as if that would dull the pain. It wormed up from my abs to my chest, blossoming outward to my limbs. Still, I couldn’t stay in the same place or he’d hit me again, so I threw myself to the side as he tried to trip me. I came up on one knee and brought both forearms up as his right leg came down, heel first. I blocked the blow and punched him in the back of the knee.

Jared hissed and danced two steps backwards, hopping on one foot. “Damn. Good hit, Jor.”

“Thanks,” I rasped, rubbing my midsection. I’d be bruised later. Michael wouldn’t like that. Then again, that was why I hadn’t told him about this little session of mine.

Jared offered a hand and I took it, grateful as he pulled me to my feet. After a moment, I could breathe normally and returned to a defensive stance.

A couple people had stopped to watch us. I shot them hard looks, which made them wander off and pretend like they hadn’t been staring. I understood them, though. It wasn’t every day that a big black guy and an average height mixed girl with a bandaged chest and scars trained in a gym. Though I suspected they wanted to make sure he wasn’t wiping the floor with me, which he was.

Jared was a fourth-degree black belt. I hadn’t even had official martial arts training. Everything I knew about self-defense, I learned from him shortly after I moved to Albany two years ago. We met at the gym, and since he knew I couldn’t afford lessons, he took pity and taught me whenever he had free time.

His brown eyes wandered down my upper body and he paused, giving me a concerned look. “Need a break yet?”

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “Nah. Maybe in about ten minutes or so. What’s the verdict so far?”

He relaxed his 6’3’’ frame and I knew I was in the clear for at least another five minutes. Jared wasn’t the type to attack without warning. “Your reaction time has taken the biggest hit, if you ask me. The advantage you usually have over me is speed, and that’s nowhere present from what I’ve seen. For instance, when you raise your arms to block, it’s not very solid. I could break through it if I wanted to.”

I winced. “Got it. Anything I can do to fix that?”

He shot me a disapproving look. “Oh, I don’t know, bed rest like your damn doctor recommended?”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

Jared sighed. “Fine. If you swear up and down that you want to improve…yoga.”

“Yoga.”

“Yes, yoga.”

“Can you really see me in a pair of tights bending myself into a pretzel?”

He rubbed his goatee, adopting an amused look. “Y’know, it’s not a bad mental image.”

I flipped him off and he laughed. “I mean it, though. It’ll get you limber without stressing your body out too much.”

“I’ll take it into consideration. Now let’s go again.”

He sank into a defensive position. I launched myself at him, aiming kicks at him since my upper body strength had taken most of the damage from Belial’s attack. Jared blocked my blows with expert ease, hopping out of the way when I tried to trip him. I aimed a chop at his throat when I found an opening, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm, throwing me over his shoulder. I hit the mat with a solid thud, groaning as pain flooded up my spine in a startling rush.

Jared stood over me with a neutral expression. “You okay, tough guy?”

I waved a hand to dismiss the comment. “Sure. I’ll let you know when my dislocated vertebrae pops back into place.”

He chuckled, but then the grin disappeared when he spotted something over my head. “Uh, were you expecting company?”

“No. Why?”

Jared pointed. “Because there’s a tall guy heading this way who looks like he wants a piece.”

I tilted my head up to see Michael storming down the aisle between the mats with a death glare aimed in my direction. Great. Busted.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded when he was within earshot.

I sat up, rolling my shoulder to make sure it hadn’t popped out of alignment when Jared tossed me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You told me you were going grocery shopping.”

I glanced around. “Hm. Must’ve gotten lost on the way there.”

Michael closed his eyes and I swore, it seemed like he was counting to ten. Instead of hurtling another pissed-off comment in my direction, he turned to Jared and stuck out a hand. “Sorry. I’m Michael. I’m attempting to be her at-home assistant.”

Jared shook his hand and then glared at me. “You failed to mention that, Jor.”

I stood, bending down to touch my toes. In top form, I could press the pads of my fingers to the floor, but in my current state, I could barely brush the ground. Shit.

“You didn’t ask.”

Jared sighed. “Yep. Under the bandages, you’re still the same hardheaded moron as always. Guess I’d better get out of here.”

He started to leave, but then pointed at me with a stern look. “Don’t call me until you’re cleared with him, y’hear?”

I saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Jared shook his head and headed towards the locker room. Michael rounded on me as I grabbed my water bottle from my corner of the mat. “How long have you been doing this behind my back?”

I drank about half the bottle before answering. “Why? It’s only going to make you madder when you find out.”

“Jordan, I told you that you would have to take it slow for a while. Forcing your body to recover is only going to make things worse.”

“I’m not forcing anything. I’m preparing.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “For what?”

“For whatever the hell is coming for me next. I don’t want to get my ass handed to me again, thanks.” I turned away, heading towards the locker room as well. Usually, I’d take a shower because the gym here had pretty nice facilities, but the stitches couldn’t be under a showerhead until my skin healed. I’d have to head home and take a bath.

Michael followed me. “So what? Do you not understand the concept of a bodyguard?”

“I don’t want to be saved. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, because it worked so well last time.”

I whirled on him, poking a finger in his chest. “Don’t go there. You’re not gonna like where it ends.”

“And where is that? A hospital? Because that’s exactly where you’re headed at this rate.”

I threw up my hands. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”

“No, I don’t. So explain it to me.”

“This isn’t the time or the place, okay? Let me get my crap and then you can continue lecturing me on the way home. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he growled.

I stalked into the locker room and let out a groan of pure frustration. My anger distracted me enough that I couldn’t remember the combination to the lock, so I just stood there and pressed my forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm down. I hadn’t wanted him to find out. I really hadn’t. He was supposed to be at band practice all night, so I’d snuck out of the apartment for a quick lesson. He must have gotten back early. I was never going to hear the end of it.

“Man trouble?”

I glanced to my right to find a blonde girl looking at me with a mix between amusement and sympathy. I let out a snort.

“You have no idea.”

One frosty, silent bus ride later, Michael and I arrived at my apartment. I took the longest bath possible to avoid the upcoming argument and redid my own bandages. They weren’t as neat and perfect as when Michael or Raphael did them, but they did the trick. The time alone gave me a moment to cool off and at least attempt to act like an adult.

A succulent smell greeted my nostrils when I left the bedroom. Something with tomatoes and broth. My stomach growled comically loud in response.

Michael stood in front of the stove where a big silver pot sat. He ladled some kind of soup into a bowl. Even though I was sort of mad at him, I still wanted to eat the food he’d made.

“Is that for me, or do I have to apologize first?” I asked.

“The great and powerful Jordan Amador knows how to apologize? I’m shocked.”

I contemplated kicking him in the shin. No. I was going to be mature about this if it killed me. “Well, if you get down off your high horse, maybe you’ll be able to hear it.”

“I really should have believed you when you said you weren’t a people person.”

“Yup.”

Sighing, Michael handed me the bowl. I dug up a spoon from the drawer before heading to the kitchen table to eat. The soup was indeed tomato-based, but I tasted a hint of basil among the shrimp, clams, and mushrooms in it. I hadn’t tasted anything this good in months. Maybe I should apologize.

Michael sat across from me and we both ate in stagnant silence. When the last bit of soup disappeared, I decided to make the first move.

“How’d you find me?”

“Your phone went straight to voicemail, so I checked the grocery store and the surrounding area. When you didn’t turn up, I thought about where you might go to blow off some steam. Then I remembered you had a gym membership.”

“Am I that predictable?”

He allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “Only to me.”

I glared at him. “Ego isn’t a good look on you.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet.” The amusement bled out of his face, leaving it serious but with a softer look than before. One thing I did like about Michael is that he didn’t seem to hold grudges, even when I was in the wrong. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud.

“So what’s really going on here, Jordan? You know it’s dangerous to put that much strain on your body.”

“I don’t think it’s something I can explain to you.”

“Try me.”

I lowered my gaze to the table. “Look, can we just drop it for now? I’m not really in a sharing mood.”

“Fine,” he said, and the annoyance in his voice made me feel guilty. “There’s another reason I was looking for you. There was an incident this morning that I think we should look into.”

“What’s that?”

“A local museum was robbed. The thief took nine different pieces and killed two guards, injuring a third.”

“I’m assuming there are ghosts involved.”

Michael shook his head. “No. This has the mark of a demon on it.”

A chill trickled down my spine. I met his eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen me shiver. “Which demon?”

“I don’t think it’s Belial,” he replied in a gentler tone, and I relaxed a bit. “But I do think it’s something we should investigate, in case there’s something bigger in the works.”

“What makes you think it’s a demon’s work?”

“The items that were stolen are part of a new exhibit of cursed weapons. Scythes, sickles, machetes, spears, you name it. Most of them were imported from Europe. Some things can gain power when they are the cause of several deaths. You’ve probably heard of myths like James Dean’s car or the Hope Diamond, right? If an object is directly responsible for a large number of deaths, eventually it can become powerful enough to harm even an archangel. We can’t let them get out of the city, or any of the angels stationed on earth are in danger.”

“So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“I think we should talk to the injured guard and see what he has to say about the break-in, and then find out if anyone tried to fence the stolen property.”

I eyed him. “That sounds like something only the angels would need to do. Why do you need me?”

“The questioning I can handle, but talking to someone who fences stolen valuables isn’t my department. Demons in that bracket won’t talk to me, but they might talk to you.”

“So I’m a honey trap, then?”

He paused and then flashed me a winsome smile. “If you don’t mind.”

“As long as I don’t have to wear heels, I’m fine with it. When is this going down?”

“We’ll talk to the guard tonight, just to make sure the demon doesn’t try to make a move. I’ve ordered someone to watch over him, but better safe than sorry. We can start looking for potential criminals once we’re sure the demons are involved.”

Michael and I both stood, gathering our respective jackets. “Now there’s a phrase I don’t hear often enough in my life.”

The archangel held the door open for me with a grin. “Welcome to my world.”