A demon escaped from Hell. A lovely virginal nun. An apprentice succubus and her teacher, sworn to hunt down and kill those who would prey on mankind. Bound by fate, they will all be thrown together. Love, desire, sin and forgiveness entwine in the tale of "Hell's Horny Angels!"
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
~Look,~ a voice whispered, seemingly from nowhere. ~A weapon.~
Kathleen’s eyes flicked to her right, on her clear side. A long-handled push-broom leaned against the wall. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself, she reached out her hand. Shaking fingers began to unscrew the handle from the base.
“So,” Juwan sneered. “Do you come with me, Desirée? Or do I start dishing out some payback?”
The handle came loose. The long staff of wood felt…natural in her hand.
With a snarl, Kathleen shook her arm loose from Desirée and vaulted over the desk. Swinging the broom-handle like a quarterstaff, she smacked one end against the pimple-spotted temple of one of Juwan’s cronies before he had time to react. The young man blinked once and sagged to the ground, senseless.
“What the hell?” A second man came forward, a knife appearing in his hand. “Put it down, bitch. Or I cut you.”
Kathleen snickered. “Never trust a man who brings a knife to a broom fight.” She faked once at his belly, then at his face. When he flinched back, she jabbed the butt end of the broom into his larynx. A gurgling croak emerged from his mouth, and he sank to the ground, fighting for breath.
Before the slack-jawed Juwan had a chance to move, she was on him, whirling like a dervish. A swing of her staff behind his knees toppled him to the floor. When he pushed himself up, raising the gun to point it at her face, she swung the staff like a mace, striking his wrist and arm again and again. The broom handle splintered, unable to withstand the fury of her blows, but she continued, screaming in rage, until she heard the sweet crack of breaking bone and the gun fell from his spasming fingers.
“Ah-ah!” she warned, kicking the gun aside as Juwan pushed himself to his feet. The splintered end of the broom pointed at his belly. “Don’t move,” she whispered, her voice deadly. “Don’t you move one single solitary damned muscle, or I’ll gut you like a fish and let you bleed to death on the floor.
“Now,” she continued, striving for calm, though her body was shaking in a combination of adrenaline and exhilaration. “This is what’s going to happen. In a few minutes, the police are going to arrive, because I’m sure someone has already called nine-one-one. Haven’t they?” she added, her eyes sweeping the room. Half a dozen hands rose. “Right. And you’re going to tell the truth to the nice policemen. And then they’re going to take you away.”
Her voice dropped. “And you will never, ever, bother anyone on these streets again, Juwan. You, or anyone who looks up to you. If I hear one rumor, one whisper that you are making a nuisance of yourself, mothers will frighten children with the stories of your fate. Do you understand me?”
“You bitch. You-”
Her hands flickered, and a scarlet line appeared on Juwan’s left cheekbone, dripping blood into his beard. “Do you understand me?” she repeated,
His good hand clenched. “You’re nothing. I’ll-”
Another flicker, and a matching gash opened on Juwan’s right cheekbone. “Now you’ve got a matching set,” she said cheerfully. She lowered the point of the broom-handle until it was resting in the hollow of the young fool’s throat. She tilted her head as he swallowed. “Do you have anything else to say?” she asked sweetly. “Or do you try to breathe around this?” Very delicately, she dug the point into his skin.