Ascent of the Fallen

by Rebecca L. Frencl

  Joss grunted, “Good.” He gestured for him to turn around. “Fina all right?”

  “She’s ok. A little shook up.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Trove.

  “Maybe I’ll swing by later, check on her. Maybe take her home with me. Aisha wants to cook her a thank-you dinner.”

  Rue felt his cheeks heat again. “She invited me to dinner tonight.”

  Another long pause. The drone of the stylus the only sound. “Well,” he said finally, “I hope she makes you her lasagna. That’s a gift from God, right there.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Fina, where’s my Metallica shirt?” Dan’s voice floated down the back stairs. “I thought I left it in your room?”

  She glared at the spread sheet on the computer screen. The numbers weren’t staying in their nice neat rows. They kept jigging around. She pressed her fingers to her right eye. Was it her eye or the monitor? A headache began to thrum.

  “Fina! Didn’t you hear me?” Dan yelled again. “I need my Metallica shirt. What did you do with it? Chloe’s waiting for me to pick her up for the concert.”

  Metallica shirt? “It’s probably right where you dropped it,” she shouted back. She needed to finish the invoices and get upstairs to work on her sauce. She wanted to make lasagna for Rue. He looked like he didn’t get too many home-cooked meals, but this was just taking forever. A sharp spike of pain lanced behind her eye. She lowered her head to the desk for a moment.

  Dan pounded down the stairs. God, he sounded like an elephant. “It’s not there.” She looked up. He ran his hands through his tousled hair, annoyance in his eyes. “I left it here ‘cause I knew I had the concert. You had to move it.”

  “I didn’t—“ She broke off the snarl when the door jingled. She twisted the snarl into a smile which froze on her face when Rue walked in. She swore her head went numb as the blood dropped to her cheeks to light them in a glorious blush.

  He swung off his coat. Dan’s beloved Metallica shirt stretched across his impressive shoulders. The sound Dan made next to her was a growl mixed with a scream. She twisted to look at her cousin and was gifted with the most knowing and disgusted look in his repertoire. He looked just like his father, she mused.

  She opened her mouth to explain, then realized it would sound worse than the truth. Let her cousin think whatever he wanted.

  “Don’t you have a concert to get to?” Frost rimed her tone.

  Dan’s glare raked over Rue. “Yeah, have a nice evening, Fina.”

  She bit her tongue as he stormed out. The back door slammed.

  She rolled her eyes. “Never mind him. He’s just in a bad mood.”

  He strolled over, draping his coat over a low tapestry back chair. “He’s just protective of you.”

  She smiled and ran a finger down the front of his shirt, feeling his stomach muscles tense along the path. “Of course it could also be that you’re wearing his favorite shirt.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give it back?”

  She laughed and he smiled in return. “I needed a laugh today.” She locked the front door, pulled the shade. “Well, closed for the day.” She shook her head as she turned out the window lights. “It was a slow day.”

  She felt him step behind her, his heat warming her when he reached out to run his hands from her shoulder to her wrists and back again. The headache that had begun to wind behind her eyes started to unravel. “Troubles?”

  She took a deep breath. “Not really. Just slow.” She gestured at the window. “It was so gloomy today.” She smiled and turned into his arms. “I guess I have the winter blahs.” She let herself lean against him. Let herself wrap her arms around his waist and settle her head on his chest. She could smell her own laundry detergent on his shirt and some indefinable scent that could only be Rue. For one moment, she let herself dream. What would it be like to come home to an embrace, a warm shoulder, a kind ear every night? She’d never felt lonely before, but after tonight she wondered if she’d be able to say that again. There was just something about him.

  She pulled back, looked up at him. “What is it about you?” she whispered. He tensed and her hands moved over his back to soothe. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “That reminds me... ” She grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him toward the stairs in the back room of the shop. “I wanted to change those bandages.”

  He dug in his heels, making her stop. “Serafina.” He gave her hand a little tug. “Serafina, wait.”

  He looked so serious. Her heart began to hammer, a nervous patter. He looked like he had that morning when she’d been so certain he was about to walk out of her life forever. “What’s wrong?”

  His mouth curved, sadly, sweetly. “Nothing’s amiss. I just wanted to take you out tonight.”

  “I thought I’d cook for you.”

  He tugged her closer, one hand reaching up to fist in the riot of red curls that tumbled down her back. “We both know we won’t be able to step away next time.” He leaned down, pressed his mouth to hers in a chaste kiss that promised so much more. “You’re a temptation.”

  She twined her arms around his neck, pressing closer. “Don’t you ever want to give in?”

  His eyes, dark and intense, focused on her mouth. His breathing changed and she knew his control was hanging by a thread. “More than you can imagine.” He closed the distance and she shut her eyes, letting him take her under. He devoured her, his mouth desperate, hungry. She clutched his shoulders. Her head felt light and desire pooled in her center, wringing a groan out of her. If she could just get her hands to let go of him for a moment, just for a moment, she’d be able to.... He dragged his mouth away from hers, his hungry lips roaming her face.

  “Rue, let’s....” He cut her off with another brain-draining kiss.

  He stepped away so suddenly she’d have fallen if the wall hadn’t been handy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a grating rasp. “Serafina, can you forgive me?”

  She leaned against the cool wall, feeling her heart leap and her system jitter in frustration. She tried to inject humor into her voice, though part of her wanted to scream. “Forgive you for which part, Rue? Attacking me or letting me go?” She fanned herself with one hand. “I can forgive one, but not the other.”

  His smile was all male satisfaction and made her want to scream at him for his damnable restraint. That old fashioned chivalry she’d so admired the night before was becoming a major stumbling block. “Let me take you out to dinner in apology.”

  After a moment, she nodded. “All right, you get your way.” She grabbed the stair rail. “What do you say to Petterino’s? Their lasagna’s not quite as good as mine, but they’ll do.” She could sense his hesitation. She reached out, grabbed his hand. “I promise I’ll behave.”

  “Hmmm,” he mused, following her up the steps. “I hope I can.”

  She left him in the living room, perusing her DVD collection while she went and changed. The bold teal sweater hugged her curves and dipped low enough to tease the eye with a creamy hint of cleavage. Perfect. He seemed to like to bury his hands in her hair, so she left it down and brushed just a tint of color on her lips and cheeks.

  He was standing at the window looking down on the bridge, the traffic snaking like red-eyed ants through downtown. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, grabbing her winter coat from the stand by the door.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and she thought briefly that he looked like an illustration off of a vampire romance novel. Though she didn’t recall any teeth. She ran her tongue over her own teeth, remembering the taste of him.

  “What are you thinking?” she repeated.

  “I’m thinking of the seven deadly sins,” he answered, then stepped over to help her shrug into her coat.

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s an odd thought, isn’t it?”

  He trailed long fingers along the swell of her cleavage. “I’ve one particular sin in mind.”

  She shivered her breath a little burst. “
Ah, yes.” Her voice was shaky. “Lust is one of them.”

  He hummed low in his throat, then turned away to open the door.

  “Rue?” He paused, the hall lights highlighting his hair. “Is is always a sin? What about when lust is tempered by love?” She swept past him, determined to enjoy a night out in the theater district. She was happy for the slap of cold March wind. Maybe it would cool her blood.

  * * * *

  Rue thanked Michael once more for not only the coat, but the money that had been tucked in a tight roll in one of the pockets. Most of the money he’d been given when he’d been sent down was already gone—given to Joss and Herm as pay for returning his wings. He’d never thought he’d need money for more than that and a bite or two to eat.

  He never thought he’d want to take a red-haired siren out for a night on the town. The restaurant, its walls covered in 1940s illustrations and its dim lighting made him feel right at home. The menu looked like it came out of an Italian grandma’s kitchen and he chose the linguine when she teased him about missing out on her famous lasagna.

  The red wine, a chianti, the waiter said, sat dry and fruity on his tongue. He wondered how the wine would taste with the flavor of the woman. He’d found himself craving the taste of Serafina more than anything he’d hungered for since being sent to Earth. He shifted in his seat, willing his rebellious body to listen to him. He was beginning to understand just why lust was one of the seven deadlies and why it was one of the sins he’d found most frequently on the souls of those he judged. He twirled more linguine around his fork. He could see too why this would be one sin they wouldn’t repent of.

  “Are you thinking more on deadly sins?” she teased, dipping a bit of bread in red sauce.

  “How could you tell?” He leaned forward, hands playing with his wine glass.

  She reached out, smoothing the line between his brows. “You have this little worry line right here.” She pushed away her plate. “A latte, please?” She smiled at the waiter who flashed a brilliant smile at her. Rue thought the man’s eyes lingered too long.

  “You must be cold in that sweater. You should put your coat on.” His own gaze traced the creamy swell of her breasts where they pressed against the teal fabric.

  “I’m fine, Rue, and you’re avoiding the question.” She reached across the table to take her hand in his. “Still thinking on your sins? You’re very kind.”

  He tugged away to drain his glass. “You don’t know much about me.”

  She shrugged, leaned back. “I know I’ve seen you stop every day and talk to Mackey, not just give him money, but actually talk to him.”

  The old homeless man had been full of stories of his Serafina, how she was an angel as pretty as his own lovely Mary had been. He hadn’t seen the old man in while, come to think of it, and Azrael had been nearby. “Is he...?”

  Her smiled bloomed. “See what I mean? Mackey’s fine. Dan and I got him into a shelter for a couple of days. We’re hoping they can get him somewhere more permanent. He’s getting too old to be on the streets.” She took her coffee with a nod of thanks. The waiter hovered until Rue shot him a glare. “You saved my idiot cousin from himself.” She sipped the foamy coffee. “That was an impressive move.” She swirled whipped cream up with a finger, licking it clean. “Finally, you saved me.”

  He felt all the blood drain into his lap with that last move and the look on her face had him convinced that she meant for that to happen. “You don’t know....”

  She squeezed his hand. “I don’t need to. I know there’s a story.” She tipped her head to the side, studying him as he’d studied the wild red slashes of paint on canvas at the Art Institute several weeks before. “Everyone has a story. Some of the stories are little more exciting than others.” She offered him a sip of the latte. “I have a feeling your story would be pretty exciting.”

  He drank, letting the warmth soothe the razors he felt lining his throat. “It’s definitely stranger than fiction.” He handed back the cup. “What’s your story?”

  “Very pedestrian,” she snagged the bill before he could. “You could say it would be in the typical Midwestern section of the library.”

  “Lake Woebegone?”Rue waggled his fingers for the leather folder.

  She shook her head, ignoring his bid for the check. “Not quite that quiet, but pretty close.” He sensed that there was more there, but understood that she didn’t want to get into it. He felt an odd desire to know what dimmed the light in her eyes, however briefly.

  Glancing at her watch, she nodded toward the street. “Want to catch a movie?”

  “Don’t you need to open your shop tomorrow morning?”

  She slipped into her coat, taking the arm he automatically offered her. “The good thing about being the boss is that if I want to open a little later, I can. It’s Saturday tomorrow, not much action in the Loop in the morning. Besides –” she pressed closer, and it was the most natural thing in the world to slip an arm around her, “ –if we go a movie we can sit in the back and neck.”

  The images playing in his head stopped him in his tracks.

  She danced in front of him, ignoring the crowds pouring out of theaters into cabs. “Rue, you all right?” She smiled, wisps of red hair escaping from her hat to dance in the playful breeze. She looked full of mischief. “If you’re worried about those sins again, I can probably behave myself.”

  She grabbed his hand, tugging him behind her. “God in heaven, I hope not,” he prayed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The movie had included quite a few explosions, a hero who lost his shirt pretty early on and a heroine whose own ensemble grew more and more tattered as they ran from the invading aliens, blasting as they went. Rue remembered very little of it. Serafina had kept her word. She behaved. He hadn’t. He’d been much more interested in the feel of her mouth under his than in how a man improbably called The Rock drove off alien hordes.

  Martha had looked at him quite knowingly when he’d strolled in that morning. It had been too late to return to his SRO, so he’d slept in the alley behind the store, under the fire escape where Michael first found him, his eyes trained on the stain of shadow. Nothing had attempted to creep through, though the fact that it was still there that morning when dawn painted the sky, worried him. Normally, the entryway closed behind them to fade with the sun. That it hadn’t, told him the demonkin had unfinished business.

  Water dripped from the ends of his hair. Showers were still a human marvel to him. He stared at his reflection, shaking hair out of his eyes. He’d had to do that much more often. Perhaps it was time to have it cut? He grunted, picking up his razor to shave, something else he’d never had to worry about when he’d had his wings.

  Sunlight danced through the dust motes on the bed. With a frown, he glared at the glittering shimmer as it coalesced and solidified. He hitched the towel tighter at his waist as the figure cleared. Aniael lounged on his bed, making no pretense at humanity. Her robe shimmered unearthly white, her wings of dusky gold folded gracefully at her back and draped across his plain covers. She fluffed her white-blonde hair, the look in her unearthly blue eyes just a bit challenging.

  “What, no halo?” he drawled, folding his arms at his chest, leaning against the dresser.

  “I’m trying to be subtle.” Her voice echoed chorally, making him wince. She smiled. “Sorry,” she said in a much more human tone.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ani?”

  “You’d think you’d be happy to see me, Rue.” She stood, one wing clearing the small table at the bedside. A water glass tumbled to the ground soaking the hem of her robe. “Oops.”

  “Furl them, Ani.” Was she trying to tease him with her wings? His shoulders ached, muscles protesting as though they wanted to flex their own feathers. Old regret stirred. “What do you need?” He turned his back to her, pulling a shirt out of the dresser.

  “Ooh!” Ani breathed. Rue felt her cold little fingers trace the art on his back. “They’re just li
ke yours were, Rue.”

  He stepped away, pulled on the shirt. “That was the idea.” He held up a pair of jeans. “Do you mind?”

  Ani rolled her eyes, but turned her back. “You humans and your fig leaves.”

  Not trusting the mischievous angel, he yanked on the clothes. “All right, you can turn around and tell me what you want. Women aren’t allowed up here, so hurry it up.”

  Keeping her wings tight to her back, she faced him. “You’ve changed, Ruvan. Azrael told me you had, but I didn’t believe it until I felt your heart tug me here.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest as though he could stop the traitorous beat of his own heart. “I don’t....”

  Her eyes no longer dancing with trouble, she stepped forward to catch his hand in hers. “Don’t lie, Ruvan, not even to yourself.” She shook her head. “You know who I am and I’m here to warn you.”

  “No warning is needed. I understand.” He kept his voice flat. Any human would have understood the tone – case closed, don’t go there. She wasn’t mortal and had an inhuman tenacity.

  “You’re at a crossroads, Rue.” She pressed, “Trust me. I’m love’s herald and I can see it as clearly as though it were written in front of me. You have a choice to make. Soon. You can choose to love one woman. Choose to stay here with her and give up your wings, become as mortal as she, set to face the judges at the end of your time here—a number of years or days that only Azrael knows.” She stopped as if to give him time to see it.

  He closed his eyes. Imagining. To love Serafina. To have her for his own, make a life with her. To wake to sunlight, gray skies, softly falling snow – all with one woman in his arms. To experience all the seasons he’d dreamed about with her hand in his. He could see it. Smell the scent of her hair and feel the shape of her pressed against him. Love. One of humanity’s own miracles.

  Ani continued. “If you do, you will never again be one of heaven’s princes. Never again – ” she fluttered her wings, the scent of myrrh rising from the feathers, “will you sit at the Father’s feet.”