Dead End (Supernatural Security Force Book 5) by Heather Hildenbrand

Author:Heather Hildenbrand [Hildenbrand, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy
Publisher: Heather Hildenbrand
Published: 2021-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Raph emerged, I still hadn’t recovered. Not that I ever would. It maybe should have made me feel better to see him looking just as awkward, but it didn’t. An embarrassed Nephilim did weird things to your faith in the Universe.

“I take it you have the serum,” he said, eyeing the thermos I’d almost forgotten about.

Milo snorted. “I think you’re the one with the serum, my friend.”

“Milo, I will vomit on your shoes,” I warned.

Raph’s face flushed, and I sent a silent prayer to any god in any world to please just disappear me.

Unfortunately, no one was listening.

I blinked and held out the thermos from Emilio. “We just need your blood, and the spell is ready,” I said.

Raph didn’t answer, and Milo chuckled then gestured to a small room across the hall being used for storage.

“Why don’t we step in here?”

Milo led the way, and Raph and I followed.

Inside, I uncapped the thermos, but Raph stood uncertainly.

“Gemini.” He cleared his throat, and I knew whatever was coming would be beyond cringeworthy.

Milo grinned. “I’ll just give you two some privacy.”

The asshole was gone before I could find something to throw at him.

Raph started again. “Look, your mother and I—”

“Whoa. Nope.” I put up my hands, backing away. “Not talking about it.”

“You should know I care about her,” he tried again.

“Not talking about it,” I repeated, glaring now. “And if you try, I will leave.”

“Fair enough.”

He seemed as relieved as I was to avoid the subject.

The door opened again, and John walked in. He looked back and forth between us uncertainly. “Am I interrupting?”

The man didn’t understand the meaning of the word. Not like I did.

“No, come in,” I said. “We’re about to add Raph’s blood to the serum Emilio gave us.

“And I’d prefer to have you here to make sure she doesn’t blow us up,” Raph added.

“Consider me bomb squad,” John said good-naturedly and gestured for us to continue.

I blinked. Was that a possibility?

“Do you have a blade?” Raph asked me, yanking me out of my thoughts.

I slid my throwing knife out of my boot and handed it over. Then, I watched as Raph sliced in his palm and wrung out a shot glass worth of blood into the thermos.

Smoke curled up and out of the mixture.

The smell of burnt ozone made my nose wrinkle.

“Is it supposed to smell like that?” I asked.

He gave me a look that said I should know better than to ask.

“This cocktail contains some of the world’s most powerful ingredients,” Raph said, wrapping a handkerchief around his hand and replacing the cap on the thermos. “It has the stability of C-4.”

Whoa. Now the bomb thing made sense.

I eyed the thermos with renewed respect. “I guess that’s not crazy. We’ve officially put Nephilim blood, sweat, & tears into this thing.”

Raph looked up at me, startled. “Not tears.”

“What?”

But he didn’t answer, avoiding my eyes as he removed the fabric from his hand. The wound had already closed. An angry pink line remained, and I knew that was evidence of his low life force energy.

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