Fratricide hit a little too close to home, and Wraith quickly brought the subject back to their search. He really wished she’d stop fingering the brick.

“Tragic, but what does all of this have to do with the artifact you’re looking for?”

She cast a sideways glance at him as though she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk, but after a moment she shrugged. “According to some ancient Gnostic texts, there are people walking the earth who are charmed by angels.”

“You’re talking about Marked Sentinels.”

“I didn’t think The Aegis was open about that.”

“They aren’t,” he said smoothly, “but I was slated for the Sigil, so I was privy to some classified information.” Actually, he had no idea if that was true for Josh, but it sounded good.

“Okay, then you know they can’t be killed, but they can take their own lives. Supposedly, one of these charmed humans sacrificed himself to be buried along with the slaughtered Christians. He thought he could help guide their souls to Heaven.”

“Why did he think that?”

“It’s said he was in possession of a coin imbued with special powers.”

“And you thought this coin was hidden behind a brick?”

“I’d hoped so.” She frowned. “If it’s here, I’ll find it. I always find what I’m looking for.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Kinda like how you always get what you want.”

“Remember that.” With a wink, he stood, offered her a hand, and helped her up. “So, let’s think this through. Anyone who was charmed by an angel and was in possession of a magical artifact wouldn’t do something as hasty as shove the thing behind a brick. He’d put it someplace special, maybe where it could be found by the right person. Did you reach into the hole?”

“Yes, but I was looking for an object…” Bending over, she squeezed her hand into the crevice again. Niiice. Her pants were molded to her ass like shrink-wrap, and his entire blood supply rushed to his groin. No panty lines. Not. One.

“I’ve found something… a slight indentation.” Her tongue slipped between her lips as she concentrated, and Wraith casually used his palm to adjust his aching erection.

“How are you doing?” His voice had gone husky, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m trying to turn it… maybe I should push it… darn. Nothing. Now might be a good time for your artifact.”

Wraith dug into his backpack and removed the bone carving he’d acquired from Josh.

She took the oval disk, a jeweled Roman pendant that hung from a leather thong. Carefully, she inserted the pendant into the hole. He heard a click, followed by another, louder click. Nothing happened. Disappointment put shadows in the hollows of Serena’s cheeks, and dammit, Wraith wanted to do something to make it better.

He didn’t have time to analyze the oddity of that particular feeling, because a rumble shook the floor, followed by a rain of pebbles and a poof of dust. A demon? No, the taint of evil hadn’t strengthened, but a crack had appeared in the far wall.

A doorway.

“Eureka,” she breathed. “I think we might have found it!” She darted to the fissure, but Wraith grabbed her before she could pry open the stone slab.

“Wait. Let me do it. It might be booby-trapped.”

“Really,” she said, “it’s safer for me.”

“Why is that? Are you one of those charmed people?”

Her eyes flared, but she recovered quickly, with a blinding smile. “Don’t be silly. It’s just that I’m smaller than you are. Less of a target.”

“Humor me.” Sure, she was charmed and all but invincible, but this kind of thing was what he lived for. Except… he was dying, so really, he had nothing to lose anyway.

“Josh—”

He shoved the stone aside before she could argue, grimacing at the sigh of stale air that escaped as though the Hall of Caracalla had been holding its breath. Wraith’s natural night vision allowed him to see perfectly, but Serena flicked on a flashlight. The rough-carved passage was dusty and full of cobwebs, slanting slightly downward on a floor of packed earth.

Here the walls were chipped and grooved, bare of artwork, evidence that the area had been closed off soon after construction.

It ended in a round, unfinished cavern no larger than one of UG’s exam rooms. It was empty except for a crude pillar in the center and a clay jar in one corner. Serena brushed past Wraith and sank down on her knees in front of the plain brown pot. Carefully, she reached inside and withdrew a fist-sized leather pouch.

Her sharp intake of breath accompanied a flash of gold as she drew a coin from the bag. Her thrill was a shock of energy that danced across his skin. Wraith knew exactly what she was feeling. He only felt alive when he was f**king, fighting, or hunting, and hunting relics could be as big a rush as hunting food.

“Is that it?” he asked, sinking down beside her.

“Yes. Oh, yes.” She turned the coin over and over, finally running her thumb over the back, on which words were etched. There she went with the rubbing again. His dermoire writhed as though it wanted the same attention. “Let that which is open, close. That which is closed, remain.”

“Man, I hate the cryptic shit.”

Her eyes shone with excitement as she returned the coin to its pouch. “I love it. Solving the mystery, finding the hidden meaning… there’s nothing like it.”

“Oh, I can think of something like it,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her lips. “Something that’ll get you just as dirty. Sweaty…” Gods, he was turned on. Who’d have thought that searching for treasure could be an aphro-disiac?

“You’re hopeless.”

He reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”

Serena tucked the pouch containing the coin into her backpack. “I’m sure you have,” she said dryly.

“Grave-robbing offal.” The booming, musical male voice echoed through the tomb with an evil resonance Wraith felt to his soul.

He leaped to his feet and whirled in a single motion. Standing at the entrance to the hidden area was Byzam. A black hooded robe obscured his body and his hair, but his unnaturally handsome face peeked out from the cowl. The hair on Wraith’s neck stood on end in a way it hadn’t the first time he’d seen the other male.

This wasn’t your average evil scum. Death would think twice before standing in the way of this demon.

Serena stood and calmly brushed the dirt from her pants. “It’s true that I’m more of a treasure hunter than an archaeologist,” she said, apparently unconcerned that the male who had snuck up on them might be a threat, “so I have a bit of a mercenary finders-keepers attitude. But offal? That’s a little strong.”

Byzam moved in a smear of light that even Wraith’s vampire vision barely tracked. In a blink, he had Serena’s arm twisted behind her back and she was kissing the wall.

With a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, Wraith plowed into the demon, sending him careening off the pillar. A sound like a gunshot rang out as the stone column cracked, chips of stone peeling away from the fissure that spread upward from the dent Byzam’s body had made.

Wraith got right up in the male’s face. “Get the f**k out. Now.”

Byzam leaned close, so close Wraith could smell his foul breath as he whispered, “I know what you’re up to, Seminus.”

Wraith rocked his head forward, smashing his skull into Byzam’s mouth. “That’s because you’re up to the same thing.”

The bastard smiled through bloody lips, but kept his voice low. “She won’t give it up to you, so you might as well go home to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

Wraith bared his fangs. “If I see you again, I’ll bleed you out.”

“When you see me again, you’ll be calling me god. For now, you can call me Byzamoth.” He bowed to Serena and swept out the door. Wraith gave chase, but Byzamoth had disappeared into thin air. Wraith stood outside the chamber for a moment, waiting for the battle high to subside, for his fangs to retract and his eyes to return to blue from the angry red he knew they’d turned.

When he returned to the chamber, Serena was waiting for him, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her face ashen.

She was shaken, and truthfully, so was Wraith. Had her charm failed, or did it not activate unless she was in mortal danger, and Byzamoth hadn’t intended to kill her?

The scent of blood was in the air, faint and human. Serena had been hurt. He went to her, took her wrist, and shoved up her sleeve. Four deep crescents scored her forearm, beading with blood. Hunger roared through him and his fangs began to throb, his mouth to water. Shit.

Pulse racing, he released her and forced himself to take a step back. “You’re hurt,” he ground out.

Gods, he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any female, human or demon. He wanted to lick her from her arm to her throat, sink his fangs into her and take her like he had in the dream. He could pump into her as her blood pumped into him—

“I’ll live,” she said, her voice stronger than he’d have expected, given what had just happened. “What did he say to you?”

He took a moment to get his shit together before answering. “That his name is Byzamoth. And he wanted the treasure.” True enough, except Serena was the treasure. And for some reason it pissed him the hell off that the sonofabitch treated her like nothing more than a prize.

Which was exactly how Wraith was treating her, and when the f**k did he gain the guilt gene? Ruthlessly, he summoned an emotion he was far more comfortable with.

Extreme anger.

“So that’s what he’s been after all this time?” She frowned. “How did he know about it? And how did you convince him to go?”

“I don’t know how he knew about it, but I told him I’d kill him if he came near you again.”