Dracula's Desires by Linda Mercury Read Free Book Online Page A

first to ascend!”
    All the heavenly beings toasted Lance with another round of hooting and hollering. Resigned, he waved. Eternity had a whole new meaning when it involved trying to escape a party.
    A group of angels enjoyed the constraints of corporeal form by folding themselves backward and attempting to dance under a stick that kept lowering toward the ground. The tinkling sounds of a steel drum band kept all the symbolic butts dancing.
    Limbo. Angels had a strange sense of humor.
    Too bad Lance had completely lost his.
    â€œI’d stay, but I see someone with an empty glass,” Fermentation said, and took off, dripping yeast behind itself.
    Lance’s control snapped. His hand wrapped around Death’s skeletal throat. “What is it I am waiting for?”
    Death sighed. Its vertebrae separated and reformed a few feet away, leaving Lance’s fist floating in the air. “You are vulnerable and not into your full powers. If you go to Earth, it is entirely possible that you may Fall again.”
    Lance stretched his wings, crowding Death closer to the edge of whatever they were standing on. Bone-hard fingers pinched between his wings and neck, forcing Lance down.
    â€œListen.” Death’s earthy smell invaded Lance’s space. “We’re not the omnipotent, omniscient ones. We have limits. You need your tools before you can go to them.”
    â€œThen get me my tools.”
    Death stroked its chin and tipped its head to the side.
    â€œEnough with you.” Death stood straight and shifted its shoulders under its shimmering gray-black robes. “I’m going to go win that juggling contest. But since I like you . . .”
    Death drained its enormous stein of God’s Breath. It tossed the jewel-encrusted mug high in the air. As it spun and flipped in the heavenly air, the other angel threw its scythe after the cup. The sharp blade sliced the vessel in half. Death caught the two halves, one in each skeletal hand. The scythe whirled in the air, the magical edge shining in deadly, hypnotizing arcs.
    Death kicked the scythe handle like a hacky sack, forcing it to land, handle first, in the soft ground. It stuck there, quivering, as Death faced Lance.
    â€œWon’t Fermentation want its cup back?” Lance asked, his mind a blank.
    Death grinned smugly. “For us, energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed.” With that, the cup shimmered and fused into a large magnifying glass with a jade handle and gold scrollwork holding the lens.
    Lance wrapped his fingers around the heavy green handle. When he rotated it in his hand, it transformed into a sword with a blade as black as Valerie’s aura. “What is this?” he asked.
    â€œThe obsidian sword will cut through illusion and false notions. The glass is for looking deeply into the heart. You need nothing else except your desire to reunite and your love of humanity. I send you to your first assignment, Angel of the Lost.”
    Lance sheathed the sword. “What is it, then?”
    â€œProphecies tell of a time when Hell will open and the Fallen will walk the earth, tormenting and tempting. It has begun.”
    What the fuck? Lance jerked his head back. “Why are we not forming our legions instead of playing”—he glanced around at the still-raucous party—“lawn darts?”
    Death scratched its back with the handle of its scythe. “Oh, it’s happening. Just not how anyone expected.” It clasped Lance’s elbow and walked them toward a quieter corner. “The Fallen are on Earth, but they are tormenting in order to get killed. If you, Valerie, John, Glenath, and Anthony end them, then our former colleagues bypass the Wheel and ride an express train home.”
    His loved ones were in danger while he had been drinking divine beer? Lance’s sword appeared in his hand. “Why?” he demanded.
    â€œYou are the Angel of the Lost. You are the one