Halo Hunter Read online

  Halo Hunter

  Of Angels and Demons

  Michele Hauf

  My name is Michael Donovan. I’m a halo hunter. And I want to believe.

  For ten years I’ve been collecting halos, lost when fallen angels purposefully left heaven to mate with human women. But in all that time, I’ve never seen an angel.

  In Paris searching for halo number eighteen, I get a lucky break when a gorgeous woman named Vinny offers up the halo’s location—for a price. Even though she sends up all kinds of warning signals, I can’t resist her offer. She’s too interesting, too mysterious…and way too sexy.

  Sure enough, soon I’m being shot at, followed by strange men, and learning more about the supernatural world from Vinny than I ever could have imagined. Why are the pretty ones always so dangerous?

  Part of Michele Hauf’s Of Angels and Demons series.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Angel Slayer Excerpt

  One

  My name is Michael Donovan. I’m a thirty-something only child who sends Christmas cards to his mother and avoids the nine-to-five hell. The world is my office. There’s not a week that doesn’t see me in a new locale, hiking through a rain forest, kayaking uncharted waters, or trying to converse in a language I don’t know with a confused local.

  I’m a halo hunter. And I want to believe.

  Sounds like some kind of freak sitting in the basement of the FBI building, throwing pencils at the ceiling, eh? Just call me the Fox Mulder of the angel set. That’s right, angels.

  Do they exist? Do they walk this earth incarnate? I want to believe, but I’ve yet to see one.

  Though I do have proof. Maybe. I’ve been collecting halos for ten years. My collection numbers seventeen. If you believe the mythology, there are two hundred halos to be found. Lost when the Grigori purposely fell to earth to mate with human females.

  It’s said that when a human holds a halo they feel hope. That hasn’t happened for me yet.

  Legend also tells, if the halo is ever reclaimed by its original owner—the fallen angel—it’s supposed to grant them a human soul.

  I buy into it only to the point where it becomes ridiculous. Like I said, I’ve never seen an angel.

  So here I am in Paris, tracking a lead on another halo. I’ve been keeping my cyber eyes wide for any references to halos. The archaeology sites are not exactly the places to look, though you’d think if anything that had fallen to the earth thousands of years ago was going to be found, it would likely be by an archaeologist.

  Not so. Most halos are found by the unsuspecting. They are walking along, trip over a funny disk, and will either toss it away like a Frisbee or into the garbage bin. I picked up one at a garage sale a few years ago for fifty cents. The seller thought it was some part from an appliance her husband had chucked in the junk pile. Good for me.

  Rarely, I happen upon a person who knows what they have. I’m still working on the guy who wants a cool million for his halo. The things are worth it, but I am not a rich man. This trip has tapped my wallet and left it yawning.

  Two days ago Versailles was mentioned in a post online. A woman who I believe knows what she’s looking for mentioned something about a sculpture in the palace. A halo is supposed to have been worked into the sculpture—a real halo.

  I’ve been to Paris twice, but have never taken the Metro. I don’t speak French, so it took me a while to buy a Metro pass and negotiate the various subway maps. Turns out you need an additional ticket to navigate to Versailles.

  After half an hour of frustration at the ticket booth, I hopped on the RER Line C at St. Michel and anticipated a forty-minute ride out to the palace. It was night, and I knew the palace would be closed, but I intended to find a room close by in town, and tomorrow I’d take a tour and check out the statuary.

  I sat toward the front on the top level of the double-decker train. There were only a handful of people on the lower level, chatting in a language that fascinated me only in that I knew I would never learn even the basics, such as “hello” and “if you shove me again, buddy, I’ll shove back”.

  I sat alone up top. Or so I thought.

  Raspberry, ginger and something dark with a sweet tinge dusted the air around me. I didn’t realize she sat next to me until I’d pulled my head from the heady fog of fragrance. She didn’t say anything, only looked up at me sweetly, her hands pressed together and shoved between her knees.

  Soft blue eyes sought something in me I wasn’t even sure I knew about. It was the weirdest, most startling gaze I’d ever met. And then she smiled, and tossed her head slightly to shift long blowsy brown curls over her bare shoulder. Her skin was pale but toned, her neck long and inviting. If she was French, I figured I should try to pick her up.

  Hey, men have fantasies just like women. Sexy foreign woman in a popular romantic destination? I am so there.

  “Name’s Vinny,” she offered in a rough voice that didn’t match her angelic features. “You headed to Versailles?”

  “I am. You sound American.”

  “Miami. All my life. You disappointed?”

  “A little.” Hell, she took me by surprise. What can I say?

  “Too bad for you. I live in Paris now. I’m stuck here.”

  “Stuck?”

  “It’s a long story. And a bad situation.” She drew her eyes up the front of my shirt, a worn blue summer sweater with sleeves I wear shrugged to my elbows. She stopped on my mouth. I think it was my mouth. Let it be my mouth, and let her thoughts be cruising toward the same kiss I wanted. “I know what you’re looking for, Michael.”

  Whoa. Red alert.

  I didn’t work with any partners, and did not have clients. The only person who knew I was in Paris was my travel agent. And the last girlfriend I’d had was six months pregnant—no, not by me; I’d broken up with her a year ago.

  So when someone names a loner like me out of the blue, I have to wonder why.

  “Don’t look so aghast,” Vinny said. “You’re not a ghost. Certain people can find certain other people if they look hard enough.”

  “Why would a certain girl like you want to find me? Do I know you?”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

  She twisted on the uncomfortable hard plastic seat and kneeled on one leg, which put her eye level to me. That heady perfume seduced me into a lull. It was as if she were poisoning me into submission in preparation for the sweetest possible killing.

  “I know what you’re looking for, Michael, and I know exactly where it is.”

  I crossed my arms high on my chest. It was the only way to put distance between us when her shoulder brushed mine. If she tilted herself forward just a bit more—yep, she did. Now her breast crushed against my arm. Nice.

  “What am I looking for?” I challenged. She couldn’t possibly have a clue.

  “A halo.”

  On the other hand…

  “It’s in Versailles. Part of a sculpture.”

  No sense denying it. And if she could further my quest… “Who are you working with? Another halo hunter?”

  “I’m freelance.”

  “Did you see the post online?”

  “Certainly.”

  Ah, the certain girl was most certain. I liked her despite the fact all my senses screamed for caution.

  “So, do you want me to show you where it is?”

  Caution, Michael. “Thanks, but I can find it on my own.”

  “No, you won’t. It blends so well you’ll go mad before you even begin to get close to it. And it’s not part
of an angel sculpture. That would be stupid.”

  “Vinny, eh?”

  She leaned even closer. Her lips were but a kiss away from mine. A man should offer some means of thanks for such an offer. But I like to keep my lips away from the suspicious sorts.

  “Short for Venezia,” she whispered.

  “Isn’t that in—”

  “My mother had a thing for Italy. Here’s the deal, Michael. I’ll show you the halo. You pay me ten thousand for the information.”

  “Ten thousand?”

  “Euros. I’m sure it’s a lot less than you’ve paid for other halos.”

  I glanced out the window. The city had become countryside, and rolling hills of twilight green rushed by. The verdant scene held no candle to the lush cloud of Vinny I sat in. God, she smelled amazing. I’d carry her scent on me long after we parted.

  I hoped.

  As for her offer to work together, I could find the halo myself. Maybe.

  Versailles must have thousands of sculptures. I’ve never visited the palace. Going over each and every one with a fine-tooth comb would prove a slow and painstaking process. Not to mention, such fine-toothcombery wouldn’t happen without exclusive access.

  “Is it in a public viewing area?”

  “No hints.” Her finger waggled admonishingly before my chest. “Deal?”

  Vinny’s bright blue eyes swam in mine a while. There were a lot worse ways to blow ten grand. And she didn’t look like the sort who would try to take the prize from me after I had it in hand. On the other hand, the pretty ones were always the tricky ones.

  Hell, I like them tricky.

  I slapped my hand into hers. “Deal.”

  Two

  I checked into a cozy resort just outside the palace. It was nearing midnight and I was tired. Vinny had followed me to my room. I thought she’d let me know where she was staying and we’d arrange to meet in the morning.

  She had other plans.

  “You ready?”

  What she wore was some kind of barely-there dress that was just a column of brown fabric around her torso. Some kind of beach cover-up thingy that would look right at home in Miami. In Paris it looked…well, couture. A thin gold belt with a wallet-sized purse hung over one hip.

  It was impossible to look her direction and not ogle those shapely gams or the perfect small breasts that couldn’t possibly be holding the dress up.

  And how did women walk more than a few steps in those strappy, sexy heels? I wanted to kneel down and lick her ankles just to offer her comfort.

  “Ready?” I worked the word over in my brain while my eyes struggled with the idea of her perky nipples possibly being the secret to keeping up the dress.

  She snapped her fingers. I snapped out of lust mode.

  I tossed my suit coat on the bed and sat on the end to shuffle off my shoes. “For bed, yes.”

  “I thought you wanted to see the halo?”

  “I do, but I’m sure it’ll still be there in the morning when the palace opens to the public.”

  “We have to go now.”

  “Why? Allergies to daylight? You a vampire?”

  “Yes.” She smirked and crossed the room to stand before me. Bending to whisper aside my ear, she defied with a teasing tone. “Scared?”

  “Only as much as an angel walking through that door would scare me.”

  “So you’re not much of a believer?”

  “I want to believe.”

  I really did. But angels and vampires—toss in a couple werewolves, if you want—not so much belief in those myths.

  “I would think you are quite the believer, Michael. You collect the halos.” She shrugged and sat down next to me. How to resist the urge to bury my face in those raspberry-scented curls of soft hair? “So pay up.”

  “I don’t carry that kind of cash on me. Maybe half.”

  “I’ll take half now, half when you’ve retrieved the halo.” She snapped her fingers, impatient.

  “When I’ve retrieved the halo? Shouldn’t that be your job? Seems like I’m just handing you a stack of cash for the pleasure of your company.”

  She wiggled sweetly next to me. “It is delicious company, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not bad.”

  She humphed. I snickered and offered, “It’s real nice, actually.”

  “I’m showing you where the halo is,” she said. “Pay up.”

  I rose to dig through my duffel. Jetlag stretched up my neck and clouded my brain. If I could get her out of here, I might manage a good night’s sleep. I do travel with cash, and had five thousand to hand over. Which I did, for reasons that I can only blame on my foggy head.

  She tucked it into the tiny gold purse without counting it. “Let’s go. Midnight is burning.”

  “We can’t go at night. The place has to be locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “Actually, it’s not. I’ve been in Fort Knox. And, I have a connection.”

  I lifted a brow, because the more nefarious qualities she displayed the more the woman appealed to me.

  “Fine. We go in tonight. This I’ve got to see.”

  We marched right through the golden gates and around behind the massive seventeenth-century palace where Vinny—I hated that name on her; I decided to call her Venezia—slapped hands with a workman in overalls. He muttered something to her in French, then led us through a door. He didn’t follow.

  The air was cool. The atmosphere was a little creepy as I imagined all the ghost movies I’d seen as a kid. I wasn’t much for antiques and artifacts. Someone had once used and cherished those items. It seemed sacrilege to order them behind velvet ropes and invite the curious to stare at them.

  And after a few turns, and me just keeping pace with Venezia’s confident strides, we were suddenly walking through the Hall of Mirrors. The freaking Hall of Mirrors. Only one of the most famous rooms in the palace. I knew that because I’ve perused coffee table books.

  Hell, where were the security cameras?

  Too stunned, and my nerves strung tight, I followed Venezia, resigning myself to a night spent in jail. Or more likely, years. I hadn’t done time before. I really didn’t want to start just because of some sweet-smelling woman.

  “Just ahead.” She strode quickly, her movements sinuous. It was like she was supernatural, or something. A ghost in spike-heeled sandals.

  When she turned to flash a smile at me, I could see her features perfectly in the muddy darkness. I wanted to kiss her because this adventure appealed to my compulsive need for danger and risk. But Mulder never kissed Scully on the first date.

  Come to think of it… Had Mulder ever kissed Scully?

  “How’d you discover the halo?” I said on a loud whisper.

  “A friend showed me.”

  A friend? So it was more than just her involved. Not good, buddy. Bright red caution flags sprang up in my brain. Had I just been thinking of kissing a felon?

  She stopped abruptly at an open door to a room. I could see over her shoulder that it was vast and elaborately decorated with sculpture and frieze and stained glass windows. All that fancy rococo stuff.

  I didn’t time my steps well, and as a result, slammed into my partner in crime. I put my arms to either side of her to catch myself against the wall.

  “Well.” She tilted out a hip that placed her groin right smack against mine. Mercy. “I thought you liked me. Guess I was right. Or is that a gun in your pocket?”

  “I don’t carry a gun.”

  “Mmm.” I couldn’t see where she was looking in the darkness, but I felt her eyes move down my chest.

  The caution flag began to wilt. And she smelled so good. I had to go for it.

  Slipping a hand along her neck and stroking her jaw with my thumb, I leaned in and kissed her. Not too quick, but not lingering, like I expected something more than what it really was.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  “You smell good. I wanted to see if you tasted as good.”

 
; “And?”

  “I don’t even miss that five grand.”

  “You’re not paying for my kisses. Get that straight, buddy.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that. So, it’s inside?”

  She nodded. And then she kissed me back, and she plunged into me so I had to lean forward to keep us both from toppling. Her body was so warm and giving against mine. She melted into me. I let it happen. It was kind of cool to make out with a sexy stranger after having broken into one of the most famous palaces in the world.

  “What will you do with it?” she whispered.

  “Add it to my collection. Maybe someday the halos I collect will bring me close to an angel.”

  “You want to see one?”

  “It’s the only way I can believe.”

  “Maybe you just need to have faith?”

  I smirked and stroked the silky skin of her thigh that she’d hooked up high on my hip. “Why are you going to let me walk away with it?”

  “I’m getting paid for it.”

  “Still feels a little shaky to me.”

  “You don’t trust me?” she asked.

  “Not entirely. But I do like kissing you.”

  “You’ll have another after you’ve retrieved the halo. It’s just around the corner.”

  A flashlight would have been essential, but do you think I had one along? I hadn’t expected a midnight raid.

  We stepped into some kind of cathedral, though it was too murky to make out details. The sculpture Venezia pointed out on the wall was too high to reach. Unless a man held a woman on his shoulders and she tweaked at the circular disk that had been incorporated into the wing of a gargoyle taking flight.

  A gargoyle in a cathedral? Go figure.

  “Got it.” Venezia slid down from my shoulders, and I pressed her body against the wall to ensure she didn’t drop too suddenly. Half the halo had been painted white and half of it was not. “Take it. Quick.”

  It was as if she had touched an electrical fence. She couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.