Asmoday’s brow furrowed in annoyance and he snapped his fingers. Everything around them, the men on the site, the businessmen and women walking by, even the birds and breeze froze. “I just can’t abide all these interruptions.” Lilith had taken the opportunity of the freeze to loosen the demon’s tie and wiggle free a few of his shirt buttons. He smiled, “Now, now, my dear, don’t distract me from the business at hand.” His blue eyes narrowed and simmered red for just a moment.
She snapped her sharp teeth at him, like a dog whose treat had been yanked away. He twisted her wrist in his and Rue smelled burning flesh. The demoness yelped and scurried away, hissing, cradling her injured wrist to her impressive breasts. Asmoday shook his hand, ashes falling to the pavement.
“She’ll make me pay for that later,” came the demon’s laconic response. He turned and smiled at Rue. “I’m rather looking forward to it.”
The man scowled. “What do you want?”
Asmoday straightened his appearance. “Just checking up on you, Rue. Just checking up.” He blew at kiss over his shoulder at Lilith, who snarled at him. “How’s your redhead?” He smirked. “Though there’s not much red hair left now, is there?”
Rue felt his hands curl into fists, but said nothing.
Asmoday’s mouth quirked up at one side. “Just a little reminder.” He flicked a look to where Rue’s lunch had been stored, just within the fallen angel’s line of sight. “There’s no expiration date on the vial, but there’s an expiration date on the redhead.” He crooked a finger at Lilith, who sashayed over to wrap herself around him again. The demon turned, taking the succubus’ mouth in a deep kiss, one hand dipping into her shirt to squeeze her breast. The demoness moaned in pleasure.
With one more chuckle, he snapped his fingers again, restarting the scene, and disappeared in a stinking cloud of bus exhaust.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The vial of miracles once again rested in Rue’s pocket. It felt heavy and warm, seeming to slow his steps as he pushed through the crowds of after shift workers and commuters. The sun set in the west, setting the lake ablaze. The mild spring temperatures had brought suburbanites to the city in droves and Michigan Avenue, his usual route, teemed with people hailing cabs, zipping in and out of stores, chattering about dinner plans.
He swerved around a trio of women examining a menu in a window and slapped the hand of the young man who reached for the shortest woman’s purse. The young man’s eyes widened and caught Rue’s gaze. The fallen angel glared and shook his head. The street thief slinked off, disappearing into the crowd. He most likely had already found another victim, but Rue had done what he could. The three women had moved on into the restaurant, oblivious.
Serafina was expecting him, but he just couldn’t go there yet. He knew, deep down, that if he walked into the store now, saw her tired eyes and shaking hands, his hands would move of their own accord to give her the vial. Was he being selfish? Selfless? He shook his head. He’d intended to walk to the shore, watch the sun set and stain the water orange and crimson. Wait until he knew he would be able to think clearly, tell Serafina everything and let her choose her fate. Help him decide his fate—maybe their fate. A smile curved his lips. If she didn’t shove him out the window or call the cops to have him taken away to a rubber room, she’d be able to decide for herself if she wanted to risk the demon’s gift.
The acrid scent of smoke on the wind brought him back to his senses. Instead of the shore, his feet had carried him by habit to Fina’s block. He looked up and froze in horror.
Billowing black smoke poured out of the shattered front window of the Spider’s Den. Flames licked at the roof. The scream of fire engines and ambulances howled in the distance. The frantic honking and squealing of brakes heralded the daily traffic snarl and the staccato blast of a jackhammer told him some new construction project had begun. Passers-by on the street ran from the heat, cellphones glued to their ears as they shouted over the traffic and roar of the flames to 9-1-1.
The door glass shattered and Herm stumbled out, shaking and coughing, to collapse on the sidewalk. Two men in soot-smeared business suits, messenger bags slung crosswise over their chests, dashed in to grab the fallen man and drag him to the curb.
Herm coughed and rolled, eyes streaming, searching the faces around him. When that desperate gaze landed on Rue, it seemed to break his stasis. The younger man barreled through the crowd to Herm’s side. “Lay back, Herm.” He pressed a hand to the struggling man’s chest.
Herm choked again, gesturing behind him to the building. Flame writhed across the magazines Herm always kept spread across the front window counter. “Joss,” the rotund owner gasped out, his hand clawing at Rue’s arm.
Rue’s heart hammered, his eyes widening in horror as realization dawned. “There?” He jerked his head behind him.
Herm nodded, dragging the fallen angel down so he could whisper. “The back door. Don’t know if he made it.” The hand dropped as the shop owner curled over wracked with coughing. An ambulance slammed over the curb, brakes screeching as paramedics leapt out before it came to a complete stop. The fire truck roared up a moment behind.
Rue ran.
He slammed through the Trove two doors down, ignored Serafina’s shout. “Keep her here!” He ordered Dan as he crashed through the break room into the alley.
He bolted down to the back of the Den. Quick hands felt warmth, not heat, through the back door. Backing up Rue kicked in the door. Black smoke billowed out making his eyes sting, his breath catch. Dropping to cleaner air he crawled in. Joss lay just to the right of the door, one arm outstretched. Gasping, lungs burning, fireflies of burning ash dancing on the updrafts near his head, Rue grabbed Joss’s outflung hand and dragged him out into the alley. Above them something snapped and groaned. He glanced up. Dancing in the fire he caught a glimpse of a sly grin wreathed in flames and two eyes as blue as pilot lights. One eye winked, then disappeared with the snapping of another beam.
Rue slung Joss over his shoulder. The ceiling of the back room gave way. Burning debris spewed into the alley and Rue ran. Serafina stood in the back door of the Trove, Dan’s hand hard on her shoulder.
“In here!” She gestured to the front showroom. Dan bolted out the front door for the paramedics.
Rue lay Joss down as gently as he could, coughing. Joss’s chest didn’t move. Serafina pressed her fingers to his throat. Rue could feel his own pulse leaping in his veins. He’d been singed. Hot stinging pellets of ash smarted against his hands and cheeks, but he felt none of it as he eyes met Serafina’s over Joss’s recumbent form. Her lips trembled. “It’s there,” she whispered, “but faint.” Tears spilled over. “He’s not breathing.”
His hand closed over the vial in his pocket of its own volition. He heard his voice tell Serafina, “Get the door, help the paramedics.” She nodded and rose.
He knew what he had to do. Knew it with a clarity he hadn’t felt since he’d been dropped on earth in this human form. As soon as Serafina’s back was turned, he pried the unconscious man’s mouth open, yanked the stopper from the vial with his teeth and poured the moonlight potion down Joss’s throat. His dark eyes flew open as the miracle coursed through him. He sucked in a gasping breath, his wheeling gaze locking on Rue.
The paramedics hit the door, the gurney they shoved through nearly toppling a rack of vintage dresses.
Rue backed away as the professionals swarmed Joss and broke their eye contact. “Wait!” Joss yelled and Serafina gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Sir, please calm down.” The medic tried to string and oxygen mask over the artist’s head. He batted it away.
“Don’t need that.” He struggled to get up, off the gurney. “Rue!” He called. “Hey, Rue, man!”
Serafina leaned in pressing him back. “Relax, Joss. They just need to look at you.” She looked up, smiled at Rue who could see relief in her swimming green eyes. “Rue’s not going anywhere.” She slanted a questioning look at Rue, who nodded
. Serafina turned back to Joss. “I’ll ride with you to the hospital. Dan will give Aisha a call to meet us there.”
Rue felt so detached, as though he was sliding away from them all. He couldn’t feel his pulse anymore or the sharp sting of his burns. He wondered vaguely, if it were shock. They were always talking about shock on the TV medical shows. The paramedics were chattering away into various communicators, not even noticing his ash-smeared clothing. They bundled Joss out, Serafina calling instructions to her cousin over her shoulder as she trotted after.
A cold wind blew through the shop. Dan shivered and ducked into the back room after locking the front door. Rue knew he should be cold, but he wasn’t. Shouldn’t that worry him?
“It depends on your point of view.” The gravelly voice should have startled him, but didn’t. Azrael leaned in the shadows, his lean face impassive.
“What...?” he began, but knew the answer.
Azrael nodded. “I came for him.”
“Should I apologize?” Rue kept his voice neutral.
Azrael’s hand landed on his shoulder. The cold of his touch should have burned through to flesh, but felt like nothing more than a comforting pressure. “Welcome back, Ruvan.” With a final pat, the Angel of Death turned to the shadowed corner of the store and disappeared.
His final words lanced through Rue like lightning from the celestial blade.
* * * *
He walked.
Darkness had fallen on the city, though not silence. It was never quiet. Traffic still hummed and honked on Lake Shore Drive behind him. A band tuned up at the Petrillo Band Shell in nearby Grant Park and the lake whispered at the shoreline. Sand crunched under his bare feet. He’d felt the cold slide of sand through his toes during the first really warm spring weekend when Serafina had taken him for a walk on the beach.
He felt nothing now but the pressure of his feet against the ground and a growing panic in his heart.
He knelt, sifting sugar soft sand through his hands. It whispered from palm to palm. Water lapped nearby. He rose and strode into the lake. Even in early May, the water should have been cold enough to wring a gasp from any but the most hardened of the Polar Bear Plunge group. It should have made his ankles ache, jabbed him with a chill that shot straight through to the bone. It soaked into his jeans at the ankle, the knee, the thigh. No sharp stab, no numb toes, just the swirl of the water around him. His throat burned and his back itched. He longed to scratch, rub himself against a tree like a bear as the itching grew worse.
A needle-like pain began at the small of his back and he welcomed the sensation. It reminded him of being human. The pain spread, deepened, soon wracking him with shuddering agony. He stumbled toward the shore, dropped to his knees with water still churning around him. Hands dug into the wet sand; pain like a line of fire lanced across his shoulder blades making his muscles twist and cramp. A horrid tearing sound and another blast of searing agony wrung a gasp from him as his shirt ripped across the back. The wings Joss had painstakingly tattooed onto his skin and colored like a hawk’s wings at dawn down to the last few inches, unfurled. Bone popped, muscle twisted and the pain blinded him for a few moments. When the transformation stopped, Rue still knelt in the surf, a few feathers floating in the water. Two of them were the amber and brown of a hawk’s on the wing. One was black and pale gray—one of the unfinished feathers from his lower back.
“Rise, Ruvan,” the ringing voice echoed chorally in his chest, “and rejoin your brothers and sisters.” A large hand reached out helping him to his feet.
Michael, Simeon and Gabriel stood before him, their sandal shod feet hovering an inch or two above the water. The trio of heaven’s princes were not trying to blend, he mused. He was mildly surprised that a pedestrian hadn’t yet wandered over to see what was glowing by the lake. He flexed his shoulders and his wings shivered.
His wings.
He closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of his wings. He’d never thought to have them again. Never thought to see his brethren again.
“You’ve proven your compassion, Ruvan.” Gabriel’s voice always had that trumpet-like note. His golden eyes glowed like twin suns. “You’ve resisted temptation and acted selflessly.”
Michael, with one side of his mouth tipped up in a smile, said, “I still know what you’re thinking, Rue. Minor slips, is all. None of them really matter in the grand scheme of things.” He nudged Simeon, who frowned.
Sim admitted. “Truly minor in regards to your greater actions.” He snapped his fingers and a beam of pure white starlight shimmered on the surface of the lake. “Nathanial has need of you, brother.” He gestured to the light.
Rue looked past the angels to the shore. The city crouched at the shore line. He could hear the rumble of the El in the distance, the bass from the concert. He thought of the warm glow of lamplight through a window and the comforting weight of a head on his shoulder.
“Not a good idea,” Michael warned.
“But do as you like.” Sim scowled, stalking to the white light. “Free will is ever our gift.” He stepped into the glow. “And curse.” With a flash was gone.
Gabriel said nothing for a moment, though Rue felt himself being measured. After a moment, the Archangel nodded toward the light. “I think perhaps it’s been too long since Simeon has walked amid mortals.”
One of Michael’s golden brows rose and Rue smothered a laugh with his hand, turning it into a rather unconvincing cough. “That would be interesting.” Michael gestured Gabriel ahead of him. He nodded to Rue and disappeared in his own flash. “I’m sure you can find your own way home.” Michael patted him on the shoulder and disappeared.
Alone at the shore, he flexed his wings again watching their shadows dance on the water. With a thought, he clothed himself, power surging through him in a warm ribbon. His fingers tingled and he knew if he were to see Asmoday again their conversation would turn out very differently.
Serafina.
His elation slipped away like the sand through his fingers. The only sensations he could feel now were the ones he’d always known: the warmth of heaven’s light, the tingle of power, the tickle of his feathers and the pull of his wings. Could he remember the silk of Serafina’s hair, the heat of her skin, the surge of his own desire? Would...?
He shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers curling around the empty bottle Asmoday had given him. There was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had been a long day. Serafina glanced at the cable box. Later than she thought it would be. Why did hospitals seem to be time warps? They sucked you in and spit you out hours later. She needed to take her meds and eat something – not necessarily in that order, though. She shook her head, remembering Aisha barreling through the doors, knocking orderlies over like bowling pins in her haste to get to Joss. And that, Serafina tossed her purse on the coffee table, had been miraculous.
Joss told the doctors that while he remembered running toward the back door, it had been closer then. He didn’t remember making it. The smoke had overwhelmed him, filled his lungs, driving him to his knees. He’d tried to crawl, tried to call out, but the heat had sucked the breath from him. He’d remembered nothing until the paramedics had tried hoisting him on the gurney. That’s what he told the doctors. The story he told Serafina after he’d sent Aisha down to the café for some food went a little further.
He’d felt something like lightning sizzle through him, Joss recalled. Every nerve ending had tingled like it was coming awake, his lungs burning as though he’d been thrown into the fire, then clearing. When he’d opened his eyes he’d seen Rue, but it wasn’t the Rue he knew. “Fina, sweetie,” he said, his large brown hand clutching hers, “you’re going to think I’m loco, ‘cause I’m thinking I’m a little loco.”
She patted his arm. “You’ve been through a lot.”
The hand on hers tightened almost painfully. “Rue had wings.” His voice dropped as a nurse bustled past the open door.
/> She smiled. “Yes, he does. Beautiful wings you’ll finish as soon as you can.”
He shook his head, the singed dreadlocks bouncing. “Nah, girl, I mean real wings. I could see ‘em. Big huge hawk wings like a shadow behind him.” He moistened his lips. She gave him the water cup, deftly sliding the straw between his lips. “And someone else. Did you see anyone else with him?”
“Dan was there. Remember he was holding open the door for the EMTs?”
Joss shook his head. “No, a tall brother in a black suit. Looked like a lawyer or a funeral director or something.”
She thought about it, wondering if he were really as healthy as the doctors had proclaimed. They were only keeping him overnight for observation. Overall, he was remarkably uninjured for someone who’d been dragged unconscious out of a burning building. “No... no one else was there. Just Dan, Rue and me.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but Aisha swept in, followed by a nurse declaring she needed to check his vitals. Fina took the opportunity to retreat. She hugged Aisha. “Let me know if you need anything,” she whispered, then turned to Joss.
He should have looked pitiful in the hospital bed, the thin blankets up to his waist and the indignity of the blue hospital gown, but he just looked irritated. She bent to kiss his cheek. “Take it easy.” She smiled. “Looks like they’ll spring you tomorrow.”
He grabbed her hand. “Tell Rue I want to talk to him tomorrow.”
Aisha shook her head, “Na-unh, you don’t.” She declared, “You’re staying at home tomorrow if I have to tie your sorry black ass to the bed.” She turned to Serafina, “Bring your Rue over tomorrow night. I want to thank him for saving….” She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.
She nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She left Aisha fussing over Joss.
She’d expected him to be at her place when she’d returned from the hospital and had felt her temper hitch when he hadn’t been there. Maybe he hadn’t felt comfortable without her there? Dan had left a note on the counter, “Cell’s on. Call me when you have news.”
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