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who’d come to Earth in search of their archesses two thousand years ago. He was Michael’s brother. And Az had never done anything that would make Michael hate him.
    What did he hate? What did he “unfairly” judge?
    He peered more closely into that mirror, searching for the answer s to those questions.
    The flames at the centers of his pupils leapt, casting the rest of his ominously vivid eyes into shadow, and the corner of his mouth drew up in a smile that was almost… wicked.
    Wicked . He recognized the face he was looking into now. He’d seen a smile like this before. He knew the men who bore it. In fact, just last night, Hesperos, the king of their kind, had come to aid Michael in the battle at Central Park.
    And he knew.
    There were parts of Michael now, and that was all. He was no longer a whole, no longer the Warrior Angel, but an amalgamation, a Frankenstein’s creation, a beast. He was part vampire – and he was part Nightmare.
    Oh, you’re good Sam.
    Michael had been on the trail of a serial rapist that was carving his seductive path through New York and whom Michael had since learned was no other than an incubus. Otherwise known as a Nightmare. The man had broken up couples, destroyed marriages, and ruined lives. He’d been royally pissing Michael off.
    All that you loathe and fear and unfairly judge.
    “Son of a bitch.”
    But when Michael spoke, it wasn’t with as much vehemence as he probably sh ould have felt. On the contrary, there was a tinge of something amused to his voice. When he spoke, it was with a bit of anticipation.
    The hunger of the vampire within him was growing stronger, but so were other urges. Samuel Lambent, otherwise known as Samael, no doubt thought he had created in Michael the epitome of everything Michael despised in the world: the predator who fed off the innocence and beauty that was already so rare in life.
    But he’d acted too quickly. And he’d made a very big mistake.
    Michael laughed. The sound came from deep within his tightly clenched gut and rode through his broad chest like wicked, echoing magic. Which was what it was. A Nightmare’s laugh could get under a woman’s skin like a drug. His voice could wrap around her like silk ropes. His touch could unravel every inhibition she had ever tied tightly to protect herself in her entire life.
    And a vampire’s bite would take her all the places she ever dreamed of going.
    A vampire and an incubus together? Michael smiled, and it was, despite everything, a decidedly alluring smile. There was danger in it – oh so very much danger. But it was a beautiful, charming, and undeniable danger.
    Samael had managed to do something wrong for once. He’d meant to punish the Warrior Archangel, make him weak, make him hate himself. Sam probably expected Michael would crawl into a hole and wait to live out the rest of his eternal days as something he despised.
    But what Sam had actually done was give him an incredible gift.
    “We must make sure to thank him,” Michael said now, in that voice so deliciously enhanced by darkness, it filled the space with shadows and promises. He turned away from the mirror, and with a confidence fitting of what he’d become, he stepped through the door of the bathroom – through it – using it as a portal.
    The portal took him with impossible speed away from the ratty hotel room Samael had no doubt deposited him in last night, through the Mansion that was the magical, morphing home he shared with his archangel brothers, and then deposited him out the other side somewhere nice and dark.
    Michael stepped through a second doorway and into an alleyway in New York City. By the way the shadows played on the ground, he guessed it was approximately six or seven o’clock in the afternoon. The sun would be setting within a few hours.
    He had work to do.
    With a quick thought, he tested his plan on a nearby discarded beer bottle, waving his hand in its direction. It rolled a bit as his magic touched it,