While far from perfect, life as of last week had at least been normal. If things had stayed the course, Avaritia might well be sipping on a bloody gin and tonic, swaying on her porch swing rather than on the run from those she once called friends. Yet instead, here she stood, a dimension away from home and deep in the Bible Belt.

“At least no one will think to look for you here,” she muttered, kicking a headstone. Ava had never understood the appeal of talking to oneself until that moment. It seemed an exercise in futility.

Natchez sat on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River and a bridge away from Louisiana. While Ava’s vocation occasionally directed her to Mississippi, namely to dangle something tantalizing in the face of a politician, she wasn’t the sort to stick around unless there were bonus points in the air. New Orleans was more her scene when traveling south of the Mason Dixon, but Natchez, with its sleepy town politics and veneer of southern tranquility, seemed the perfect hideaway until someone resolved this mess with the Seven.

Things had been so different last week. Funny how one itty-bitty run-in with an angel had all of Hell ablaze. She could kill herself for her stupidity.

And yet, she’d wanted it all. It was in her nature. Greed had always been her vice. She was damn good at her job.

Ava sighed and slid her hands in her pockets. She’d decided to troll the local cemetery in hopes of finding something to kill, because honestly, this under-the-radar stuff sucked. There seemed little harm in taking advantage of local ignorance and tossing a few demons back to Hell. It would give her something to do at the very least.

And it would also go a long way in keeping her mind off Sebastian.

Damn, she’d done so well too. Almost thirty whole seconds without thinking of her angel. The sick feeling returned. Nearly two thousand fucking years and not once had her chest ached like this. In her world, pain was easy to identify. If she hurt, someone had likely socked her. If she groaned, she was typically doubled over. Hurting without reason didn’t make sense, and yet she hurt like nothing else.

Ava hissed and fell slack against a gravestone. She hadn’t thought it possible. Sebastian had changed everything--opened doors she hadn’t even noticed, and just as quickly closed them again.

A few days of passion and she’d been ready to walk away from everything. The job for which she’d been created, the only friends she’d ever known, and the only place she’d called home. All for Sebastian. It had been new for him as well, he’d said. New, crazy and wonderful. Centuries of wandering through the world, guarding lost souls or reaping chaos over the hearts of man, and neither of them had ever fallen in love. Those few days had been the best of her existence. For once she felt more than what she was. She’d seen a life outside of the world she’d known, and god, she’d wanted it more than anything.

It all ended once Sebastian had realized the price that came with loving her. A closed door to Paradise, the loss of his wings and a status as One of the Fallen. It didn’t concern him that Ava had already typed and handed Lucifer her two weeks’ notice, never considering her angel would renege on his promise. Angels couldn’t lie, could they? Beings of compassion, love and patience could outlast anything--even expulsion from Heaven.

It wouldn’t cost her nearly as much as it’d cost him.

Traitor.

She shivered. Ava had been prepared to take the demotion, turn in her pitchfork and live out the rest of eternity with her de-winged angel. Life as a demon didn’t seem unreasonable for the happiness that came with it, and she had never known happiness.

It hadn’t been enough for Sebastian. Once he realized what loving her would cost him, he’d high-tailed it skyward and groveled like a weenie at Big J’s feet. And knowing or not, intentional or not, he’d essentially signed Ava’s death warrant.

A de-winged angel couldn’t return to Paradise, therefore any information he might have gleaned from the other side would never make it to the ears of anyone who had a hand in public affairs. And Lucifer, while not happy to lose Ava, had all but given her his curse--a high honor in the pit--for corrupting an angel and convincing him to fall.

That honor had been stripped. Sebastian’s return painted her a double agent, effectively killing any chance of going home.

So here she sat, a former spy and advisor to the Prince of Lies, moping in the heart of a southern tourist trap.

“Come on,” she muttered. “Just give me one demon. Just one little demon.”

A noise directed her gaze upward.

It appeared someone out there listened. While there were indeed many demons that instilled cold, piercing fear into the hearts of men, most were bumbling idiots. Likewise, and contrary to popular human belief, they were not evil beings. They received a bad reputation from classic novels, biblical misinterpretations and feature films, but in most cases were completely neutral on the cosmic scale. True, many demons used their non-human status as an excuse to reap as much damage as possible, but those that had any wits about them kept to themselves.

Unfortunately, that sort was few and far between. Most every demon Ava had encountered believed they were inherently evil due to their own lack of education, and when they set their sights on her they tended to cause trouble. With her dark auburn hair, nonthreatening demeanor and penchant for hanging out where most single white females wouldn't be caught dead alone, she all but antagonized them into a fight.

The three goons strolling drunkenly down Cemetery Road were no different. The second they set their sights on her, her wish was granted. “Well, well, boys,” said the first demon, a lecherous grin stretching across his deformed lips. “What’ve we got here?”

Had there ever been a time when that line was fresh?

The second demon cast her a look that she, quite frankly, didn’t want to analyze. “Wanna dance, little girl?”

Her lips twitched. She’d complain to others, but in truth, she loved this part. The bigger they were and all that. Ava looked human, smelled human and sounded human. Only a handful of earthbound demons knew otherwise. Even those demons didn’t know as much as they thought they did. Lucifer didn’t want word getting out he had her kind in his arsenal.

Her mind drifted to Dante who was the only vampire Ava really liked, and the only demon to whom she’d personally selected to reveal her superbeing status. All others were acquaintances of convenience. The thought was unprovoked and without aim, but she found herself calming at even the idea of a friendly face. He was sin incarnate, which made him the worst sort of temptation--the sort with which she most often flirted. She’d considered inviting him into her bed on more than one occasion, but ultimately, it seemed like a surefire way to wind up with a broken heart. And since Sebastian had already dealt that particular blow, Ava didn’t feel like opening herself up again. She wasn’t like her sister, Luxi, who hopped from man to man, and while her vocation allowed for a certain amount of freedom, she likewise didn’t specialize in detached sex.

Another misconception about her kind--or really, any kind from the pit. It had taken a lot to fall as far as she had, and she’d only allowed her defenses to fall so easy, because she assumed angels had honor. If she’d known ... if she’d just...

Dante would certainly go a long way in washing her skin free of Sebastian’s touch, but the boy was too wild to tame. Call Ava old-fashioned, but she wanted the real thing. And for that want, she’d thrown everything away.

Another unfortunate side-effect of Sebastian’s abrupt departure was this sudden tendency to space off when she shouldn’t. Ava found herself smacked to the ground in a flash, the demon pissants looming over her with eagerness she desperately needed to eradicate.

“Think we caught a slow one, boys,” one of the demons cackled. “Tonight’s not gonna be wasted after all.”

Ava rolled her eyes and leapt back to her feet. “Sorry,” she said shortly, wheeling a power kick into the demon’s gut. “Won’t happen again.”

Ava loved fighting. She loved the thrill of the moment, loved the smack of flesh against her knuckles, loved the wind in her hair, and even the sting of the inevitable blows she took in return. True, if she wanted to end this quickly it wouldn’t take much more than a blink, but there was no fun in that. She needed this--she needed the rush. She needed to feel the ache in her jaw and the pain in her gut. She needed this to feel alive.

“Guess this is a show of same scene, different graveyard, eh, Ava?”

What she didn’t need was the voice of the vampire she’d just been thinking about to penetrate the air and throw her completely off her game. And more importantly, off her feet. Ava whirled around, baffled, and opened herself up to a harsh punch from Demon One.

“Ouch,” Dante said, flinching. “That looked painful.”

Ava hurled herself to her feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Reckon I oughta ask you the same thing,” Dante replied from where he sat rather comfortably on a nearby mausoleum. “Course that might be a tad redundant. You're very obviously getting your scrumptious little rear kicked.”

“You’re in Mississippi?” She groaned, ducking the fist of Demon One and aiming a kick at Demon Two. “Am I dreaming?”

“Dunno. Dream of me often?”

She snickered. “Okay then. I guess this has to be a nightmare.”

“For me too. Hate Mississippi.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Word had it it’s where you were, which, not gonna lie, shocked the hell outta me. New York seems more your style.”

The mere mention had Ava sighing wistfully. “If only.”

Dante grinned. “Anything new?”

Ava shrugged the best she could, grasping the arm of Demon Three and using its weight to leverage another well-aimed kick at Demon Two. “Oh, you know,” she replied, punches punctuating her words. “Same old. Same old.”

He chuckled appreciatively. “Just can't help making friends wherever you go. Who are these clowns?”

“Just some guys I met in a bar.” Her head flipped up under the swinging arm, securing a glare in the vampire’s direction. He truly was too gorgeous for words, which spoke for most of the undead. There were many aspects of vamplore that Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer had completely fucked up, but ethereal beauty was not one of them. It was a survival thing--part of Darwin’s theories put to the test in ways he never imagined. Not all vamps came with super strength or the inclination to hunt, but where their strength betrayed them, their looks did not.

Dante had always seemed a bit too perfect when it came to the male form, but then again, Ava knew half a million demons who would disagree with her. She supposed it was a matter of personal taste. Her sister had an insatiable appetite for ... well, men, women and what-have-you, but Luxi was most prone to men built like football players. Ava was just the opposite. Her poison was a man who wouldn’t tower over her and likewise not make her feel too butch at the same time. Dante fit the bill. He was only a few inches taller than she and had a body built for debauchery, complete with strong arms and a marble-carved chest. Tonight, he was wrapped in a snug pair of jeans and a form-fitting navy tee, which made his pale skin seem paler. His hair was coal-black and his eyes sparkled blue. Ava had always loved his eyes.

Not that she’d ever tell him any of that.

“Look,” she said at last, biting her thoughts back with a healthy helping of anger. Dante might be a friend--a fucking gorgeous friend at that--but she wasn’t in the mood to trade barbs or entertain his cocky ass. Not at the moment, at least. “Are you just gonna small-talk me to death or did you just want a good seat?”

Demon One stopped and held up his cloven hands. “Hey, are we keeping you from something? 'Cause we could totally reschedule the ... you know, killing you.”

“Whoa! Do you two, like, know each other?” Demon Two asked, blinking dumbly.

Dante snickered and ignored them. “You sure do attract the thick ones.”

“You're one to talk,” Ava spat.

“Look, vamp,” Demon One said in defeat. “You gonna help or not? We are kinda busy here.”

“Right,” Dante replied. “Three on one and not a single one of you has managed to slow her down.” He snickered. “Wannabes.”

It was very obviously the wrong time to crack a grin, but for whatever reason, she couldn't help herself.

“Vamps are so fucking useless,” Demon One snarled.

Demon Three, the only one in the group not versed in English, gurgled something sounding like an agreement.

Ava glanced at Dante. “Hear that? You’re useless.”

“Figures. Mom always told me I wouldn’t amount to anything.” Dante sighed heavily and hopped off the mausoleum. “Want a hand?”

She shook her head, landing a hard punch against Demon Two’s puss-oozing nose before elbowing Demon Three. “I got it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Dante huffed. “Right. Every party needs a pooper.”

“That’s why you invited me.”

“You play with them too much,” he complained, stepping forward. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Then he was everywhere. A blur of motion against a dark silhouette, moving with superhuman speed. Demon One collapsed before she could blink, gurgling and holding his sliced throat, a glassy look of surprise forever trapped on his face. Next went Demon Three, howling in his native tongue as his guts toppled out his split torso.

A hot flash of anger raced down Ava’s spine. This was so like him. Show up, distract her and ruin the one solace the night had given her. Glad as she might be to see a familiar face, her frustration needed a channel, and he’d just stolen the only one in sight. “Dante!”

He tossed her a cocky grin. “Snooze you lose, darling,” Dante said, seizing Demon Two by the head and giving it a good snap. It crumbled to his feet without a fight.

“Son of a bitch.”

He rocked proudly on his heels. “You’re welcome.”

“What the hell, Dante?”

“Looks to me like I just saved your life.”

Ava gestured furiously. “Saved my life?”

“Glad we agree.”

“Those were my demons.”

He shrugged. “Weren’t killing them fast enough.”

“That was on purpose.”

“Likely story. You can admit it now. It’s just us.”

“Admit it?”

“Yeah. That they were too much for you to handle.”

Ava snorted, flexing her fist. Times like this it was difficult to keep from showing the overconfident pest just how much power she wielded ... but then again, she was in enough trouble already without running the risk of exposure. “I’ll give you something to handle.”

“That a promise?”

“You don’t wanna find out.”

“You’re a spoilsport.” Dante shook his head. “I just helped your ungrateful ass, putting myself...” he paused and slapped a hand across his heart, his eyes wide with false sincerity, “at great personal risk.”

“Too bad they didn’t wipe the floor with you. Your ego’s due for a downgrade.”

He scowled. “Is it too much to hope for a thank you?”

“I didn't ask you to do anything!”

“Fair enough. I suppose next time I'll just let them have their way with you.”

There was no end in sight, and Ava had neither the patience nor the inclination to talk herself in circles. Thus, rather than taking a further dive down a verbal labyrinth, she grounded herself with a long sigh. The pressure on her chest didn’t alleviate, but it would with time. Ending an argument without bloodshed was something knowing Dante had forced her to learn. Perhaps she liked him so much because they fought so well. “Okay,” she conceded. “Okay. What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“I don't want to fight.”

“Since when?”

“Since now. What are you doing here?”

“It’s my concern,” he replied indignantly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on the lam.”

Dante nodded tightly. “That’s what I heard. What’d you do this time?”

Fell in love with an angel. Got the holy treatment. Ava’s face flamed, her skin growing itchy. It’d be a cold day in hell before she gave Dante that bit of blackmail fodder--and she happened to know the last cold day had occurred in 1908 when the Cubs won the world series. “None of your business.”

He grinned mischievously. “Nothing to do with a certain angel?”

A long, tired groan rumbled through her throat, her head swinging downward. “Fuck,” she muttered. “How’d you hear?”

“Demon falling for a celestial one? Not much chance of keeping that in.”

“Of course not.”

“There’s a story there.” Dante took an eager step forward. “Come on. Talk to Daddy.”

“Not a chance.”

He bounced impatiently. “What do you have to lose?”

“Except my dignity?”

“You’re in Mississippi, and word on the wire is there’s a hefty price on your head. Plus, the last man you had between your legs couldn’t find a clit if the salvation of mankind depended on it.”

“Fair point.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Wanna grab a beer?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”