Fallen. Michele Hauf

      And if properly warded, which he had been, he stood a chance at defeating her.

      “Damn it. I’ve got to find that bloody muse, and quick, before he comes back.”

      Cooper wasn’t sure why vampires were tracking him, but he wasn’t about to stand with arms wide open and welcome them to do as they pleased. It wasn’t smart to rip out their hearts when an innocent bystander may witness—not to mention the mess—but damn, it had felt good.

      He had to be careful. If this realm were to become his permanent home, he must learn to play by the rules, and respect mortals.

      But that didn’t mean he had to play nice with the vampires.

      Elbows to the glass counter, he looked over the bowie knives as the store owner observed him. This little shop was tucked in the fifth arrondissement at the end of a street that catered to tourists with video stores and T-shirt shops.

      “The handle is pure silver,” the owner said. “Pretty thing, isn’t she?”

      Cooper stabbed the weapon into the wooden beam stretched floor to ceiling, designed for such purpose. He knew a blade wouldn’t stop a vampire, but it might slow one down.

      What he needed was a fancy stake like Pyx had sported. But he suspected she wasn’t the type to share, unless he begged. And put chocolate and bananas on top.

      He did love her appetite. But that was obviously the gluttony shining through. If the girl weren’t careful she might have to let out her snug-fitting leather pants a bit.

      On the other hand, eat away, pretty demon. It may slow her down if he ever did stumble across his muse.

      “You have any crosses?”

      The owner tilted his head quizzically. “There’s a religious shop down the street,” he said, pointing. “You buying that?”

      “Yes.” Cooper laid the knife on the glass counter. “And give me a couple of those, too.” He gestured to the four-pointed throwing stars on the wall behind the counter.

      “That’ll be seven-hundred-fifty,” the owner said, sliding the weapons toward him.

      Cooper placed his palm on the owner’s forehead and put into his mind the image of him handing over a stack of euro notes. After he’d berated Pyx for stealing the apartment, he should look to his own actions and stop throwing stones. Yet he had no means to employment or an ID card or driver’s license. He was off the grid and intended to remain so until he’d found his halo.

      It wasn’t stealing when he planned to use the weapons to destroy something that could harm or even kill humans.

      Tucking the blade at the back of his jeans and the stars in the pockets of his black wool pea coat, Cooper walked out onto the sidewalk and almost tripped over a spunky redhead.

      Pyx hooked her arm in his and together they went down the sidewalk. Perky ponytails sprang out at either side of her head. Rouge brightened her cheeks and gloss shimmered on her lips. She smelled … fruity.

      “Is this a date?” he asked.

      “No, it’s a walkby kidnapping. I’m taking you to find your muse.”