Chapter 1

I hit the cue, sending it ramming into the 1-ball, sending 3 and 7 into the pockets. I smiled smugly at Rixon. "Told ya."

"Bloody hell." Rixon laughed and threw another twenty on the table, which I snatched. "Aye, lad, you're gonna wipe me out."

I shrug. "That's the point."

"Patch?"

I stiffened. Of all the people I didn't want to see. "What do you want, Dabria?" I ask without looking at her.

She stands behind me, her long hair tying he hands up. How I wish it tied her legs, and she stayed away from me. "Is it truly you?"

I said nothing.

"It is!" She snickers. "The archangel who fell, that hasn't happened since Lucifer. How unfortunate."

"What. Do. You. Want?" I snarl. Rixon glances from Dabria to me, wondering if he should intervene.

"No need to be cold, how I've missed you so." She dragged her nails slowly down my arm. "I've been having visions of you, dangerous ones."

I sighed at set my pool stick on the table and grabbed her arm, dragging her over to the bar. I slammed her into it, glaring at her with my black eyes. "What kind of visions?"

"So menacing with those ebony irises, love," She purred. "Do you remember that girl? Nora was her name yes? I wonder if she would even recognize you with that darkened expression and the lack of manners."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want with me? Surely not to talk about Nora."

"Oh, but to talk about Nora is exactly what I wish to do." She smiled and poked my chest. "You see, I've been having these dreams about you."

"Not unusual." I shot the bartender a glance that told him to buzz off.

"Mmhmm, yes, yes. Anyhow, the dreams are of you trying to kill this young girl with that mark."

She pointed to my wrist, at the oddly shaped "birthmark." I call it that because it was what the humans thought it was, whereas it was really where the blood from my back had dripped and burned in the vortex. I pulled the long sleeve of my black tee shirt down. "So? I was trying to kill a Nephilim, no surprise; I would be human if I did. What's your point?"

"My point is it wasn't just any old Nephilim, it was the exact copy of Nora." She lifts a brow. "You, my friend, appear to have had some serious swimmers for a four-hundred-year-old."

I feel myself flush slightly, most likely in anger. Embarrassment is a possibility too, but I would never admit that aloud. "Again I ask . . . your point?"

Dabria sighs. "You plus Nora equals baby. Baby makes baby, baby makes baby, three hundred years and forty-some generations later, you have the exact replica of Nora, with a powerful birthmark, meaning that her father – who is surprisingly out of the picture – was a Fallen too!"

"I get that!" I yell. "What is your point?"

She smirks slightly. "If you kill her, her body is yours."

"I'd rather keep what I got below the belt the same, thanks." I turn away from her, secretly thinking of how it might be nice . . . to be human.

Dabria slaps my back and I wince, the scar burning badly. I cough and glare at her. "What?"

"Patch, honey, I have a job as the counselor at the school this girl attends, and I sighed you up as my nephew."

"Excuse me?" I snarl.

"Relax! I gave you your Archangel last name, Cipriano. You start next week."

"You're screwing with me, right?" I asked. "This is just some idea to rile me up."

She shook her head. "My name is Ms. Green. You are Patch Cipriano, and you are going to school with the duplicate." She shakes her head. "So far you only have Sex Ed and gym together, but I can fix that."

"Sex Ed?" I asked. "That's a class now?"

She shrugs. "Teenagers are sluts now, I suppose."

Knowing I am never going to get out of this, I sigh and ask. "What's her name?"

Dabria grins. "Nora Grey."