Taken by the Angel of Death
(Taken 14)
Date Published: October 2, 2026
Publisher: ChangelingPress
Loren knows her job. She’s an angel of death. When she allows herself to be seen, there are no survivors. She drives too fast, has no filter, and bows to no man. Then she sees a vampire crumpled on the ground. It’s not his time. She can’t leave him to die, but she won’t get involved with him. Too bad he’s cute.
Michel never wanted to be turned. Never wanted to offer his services. Terminal illness? You’re going to perish anyway? Want to do it on your terms? Then he can help. It’s part of his death wish. But he can’t die. When he finds himself in the presence of the most beautiful, moodiest woman he’s ever seen, he can’t forget her. But she won’t touch him. He makes it his mission to get to know and melt her defenses so they can both have their heart’s delight.
If nothing else, he’ll die trying.
She kills. He can’t die. They shouldn’t work, but what if they did and the results are fire?
You are to report to Beelzebub immediately, a voice said in her head. Loren scrubbed both hands over her face. She hated when he called her. He never wanted anything good. Someone had to die. Always.
She rolled her shoulders, then waggled her head to stretch her neck before she ambled into the fiery man’s office.
“You called, Bubsy Baby?” she asked. She never referred to him by his preferred name. It just didn’t suit him. Or maybe it was to annoy him that she wouldn’t use the name he preferred.
“You know my name,” he snapped.
“Look up the number?” She folded her arms and sighed. “You’re not exactly menacing or scary behind that desk. You’re like a red-tinged middle management clown.”
His eyes blazed and he snarled. Flames licked his horns. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Someone has to be in charge.”
“And you do it so well.” She sighed again. “What do you want? You only call when you want something.”
“You have a job to do.” He pointed to the screen behind him. “You have three, actually.”
“We’re still using screens? Isn’t that so last century?” She read the information and filed it away in her mind. She could be counted on to complete her mission without fail or issue.
“Why are you such a pain in my ass?” he asked. His glare deepened and he gritted his teeth. “You can’t just go along.”
“No, I can’t.” She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. “I have to be your torture because you were a shit when you still had your wings. I’m your punishment.” She didn’t care that she gave him such grief.
“Just bring me the souls I deserve.”
“You don’t deserve anything,” she replied. “But it’s my job.”
“If I could find someone else and give you a different one, I’d do it.”
“You love me,” she snapped, knowing full well he didn’t care for her at all. “I’ve got the orders.” She turned on her heel and strode back out of his office. If he were removed from his post tomorrow, she’d be just fine. Hell, she’d be happier.
“Don’t you dare leave this office until I give you permission,” Beelzebub shouted. “Wait, I haven’t told you where your targets are. You don’t even know where you’re going.”
“I don’t?” she said over her shoulder. “Eerie, it would appear.” She didn’t turn around but kept going. She wasn’t stopping until she got out of his disgusting palace. No one should have to look at so much death and suffering.
The display of bodies and souls in distress always churned her stomach. Sure, the humans could be dicks to each other.
She flicked her hand and opened the portal to the roughest bar in Eerie. Few beings were strong enough to withstand a night at Just One More. If there wasn’t a fight in progress, there was one about to start. Bottles were routinely thrown at anyone for just about any reason. There weren’t any waitstaff. Just three vampires who tended the bar. They barely spoke but expected high tips. She nodded to Stacy, the head vampire, then closed the portal and headed out to the cooler air of the night.
The smattering of lights on the building flickered. The parking lot hadn’t been paved in years and the potholes could prove dangerous for anyone under the influence. Sweat practically poured from the interior and the sound of laughter could be heard for a good mile from the place.
A hulking figure shielded her from the glare of the colored lights. “Hi, Jack. Get out of my way.” She’d been involved with him for a whole month and he thought he owned her. The fool. She barely let anyone get close to her. Jack had been a decent roll in the sheets, but he wasn’t relationship material.
“You’re here.” Jack Robideaux stood in her path. “Who are you here to collect?”
“Not you.”
“Anyone here?” Jack asked.
“Nope.” She sidestepped him. She didn’t feel like having this conversation. She kept going until she reached the parking lot where she’d left her car, hoping no one had keyed it while she’d been gone. The vehicle wasn’t anything to look at -- a worn ‘80 Mustang with chipped paint, a woefully underpowered engine and nearly bald tires, but the old girl got her where she needed to go. She unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel.
A bottle flew over the hood and broke on the fence, sending shards of glass through the air.
She growled, then flicked her fingers, directing the glass back to the guy who’d tossed the object in the first place.
“Sorry, Loren,” he called. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“You had it coming,” she said, then drove out of the lot. Fucker needed to watch where in the Hell he was throwing things. She sent rocks flying as she pulled onto the main road.
According to her list, she was headed to the Trollville area of Eerie. The trolls never bothered her, but if it was this one’s time to go, then she couldn’t stop fate. Atropos wasn’t terribly flexible when the end of the ribbon came. The being was expected to accept her determination.
But these were chosen by Bubsy. She snorted to herself. He had to know how much it delighted her to see him squirm when she called him by that name. Call it a perverse power play. She didn’t care. It gave her a minute to best him and worked every time.
She stopped by the crossing and waited. According to the screen, this troll was meant to pass while in the middle of the street. She hated this part. Why did beings have to be so violent to each other? She fiddled with the black diamond ring she always wore.
She noticed the male and female walking toward the road. The headlights of a car shone in the distance. That had to be how he died. Loren remained in her silent vehicle and waited. The man staggered and wobbled into the woman. She laughed and sagged into him.
Loren rolled her eyes. They were going to cause an accident because they were drunk. Cute. She could shout at them and get the pair out of the road, but that’d only piss off Bubsy and string her job out. Atropos would be pissed with her, too.
Not today.
The pair lazed out to the middle of the road. The woman dropped her purse. When she bent to pick it up, the car seemed to come out of nowhere. The sound of screeching tires, the scent of burnt rubber and the shriek of breaking glass filled the air. The woman’s scream could probably be heard outside of Eerie.
“Showtime,” Loren muttered. She left the car and made her way to the pair. The woman, her face covered in blood and her hair matted against the top of her head, reached for Loren.
“Help us,” the woman begged. “Call someone.”
“They’ve been called.” Loren shrugged, extending her black wings. Her leather jacket crinkled and creaked, and her boots thudded on the asphalt. “I should say I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t. She touched the man, who’d stopped breathing not more than thirty seconds after the car hit him.
“Go home,” Loren whispered. “Time for your ultimate reward.” She left her index print on his head, sending his soul to the depths of Hell. He dissipated into dust and his body was gone.
The woman screamed. “You killed him.” She swatted at Loren but missed. “You destroyed him.”
“It was his time,” Loren said and stood. She flexed her wings before tucking them away. “Now you’ll have to live with the guilt and anger for what happened. You’ll have to accept that you’ve done this. He’ll never come back.”
“Bring him back,” she said and lunged forward, grasping the front of Loren’s jacket. “He wasn’t supposed to die. I was. I’m the one who cheated. He was just along for the ride.”
Fuck. She hadn’t thought the drunken woman would’ve been so strong or fast. She swatted her away, then stepped back. “Talk to the devil. Your boyfriend is in his hands now.”
“Boyfriend?” She flopped backward onto her ass and her matted hair fell in her eyes. “He was my john.”
“Now he’s your gone.” Loren straightened her jacket and left the scene, almost as if nothing had happened.
One down, two to go…
Loren cleaned the blood from her hands once she settled behind the wheel of her car. She didn’t bother to watch the woman or call for help. That wasn’t her job. Besides, what would she say? The Angel of Death is calling and would like an ambulance to be sent to the corner of Oak and Elm? Yeah, that wouldn’t do much good. No one would believe her.
She drove away, leaving the scene. In the regular world, she’d be in trouble for fleeing the site of an accident. But no one saw her, save for the drunken woman and no one would believe her, either. They’d think Loren was a figment of her sloshy mind.
Loren flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with someone who wasn’t at Just One More. Certainly not with someone who wanted to speak to her.
Not that she wanted to have deep discussions with anyone. Most people annoyed her. She stopped at the traffic light and a thought occurred to her. If I’m not careful and don’t rein in my sarcastic attitude, I’ll turn into Bubsy.
She gagged.
No one is as insufferable as Bubsy.
She drove for two hours before reaching her next destination near Pittsburgh. She spied a man crossing the dark street. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down. His gait was quick, like he was hurrying away from someone. She kept watching. This guy wasn’t on her list. Was he perishing tonight? This wasn’t exactly a great area and people did die here.
Another being rushed up to the man. Something glinted. A knife? She wasn’t going to be a witness to this. Loren parked and surged from her vehicle. She lunged between the men, pushing the first one out of the way.
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
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