Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Jordan grabbed my arm, making me face her. “Michael, you’re insane. Belial can’t trick me into wanting him. I know what he is. I know what he’s capable of doing. I would never betray you.”

  “Are you sure?” I murmured. “Because I’m pretty sure you just lied to me about Belial kissing you. That’s how it starts. Little lies. They start getting bigger by the second until one day you don’t know who you married anymore.”

  “Oh, I’m the liar? Why didn’t you tell me that you bailed Lewis out of jail?”

  “Because I thought he deserved a second chance. He may be an asshole, but he does care about you. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see that if you knew he had been in jail.”

  “Well, thanks for believing in me,” she snapped, turning her back on me to go into the bedroom.

  I sighed, knowing I had finally gone too far. “Jordan.”

  She came out with her shoes and duster on, walking towards the door. I stayed where I was, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. And don’t wait up.”

  She slammed the door, leaving me in a vacuum of silence.

  She was exactly where I hoped she would be when I arrived. She wore a beautiful red dress that brought out the rich dark sienna of her skin and the black of her long, wavy hair. The red clashed with the endless white surrounding us like a rose petal floating in a pool of cream.

  My wings were a heavy but comfortable weight as I walked towards where she sat on a bench at the top of a hill, watching the spirits in the gorge below with an utterly peaceful expression. I took a seat beside her.

  A smile touched her lips. “Hello, mi hijo.”

  “Hi, Catalina.”

  She glanced at me. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

  “Very little surprises me these days. Besides, Uriel told me you like to visit sometimes.”

  “It’s peaceful here,” Catalina Amador replied, folding her elegant fingers over one knee. “Not that Heaven itself is not peaceful, but I enjoy having some time to myself. This is a tranquil place. Nowhere else in the universe like it.”

  “That’s why I come here to clear my head sometimes.”

  “Oh? And what clouds your mind right now, Michael?”

  “Your daughter.”

  A flicker of emotion darted through her brown eyes. Concern, mostly, but some regret as well. In many ways, Catalina was as guarded as Jordan, but not about her family. She could be fiercely protective of anyone she cared about and we had that in common. “What about my daughter?”

  “You don’t have to be coy. I’m aware that you’ve spoken with Gabriel and Raphael and that you know about the rogue angel.”

  “I do, but the tone in your voice is much more personal. You’re worried about your relationship, not just her safety.”

  I winced and didn’t answer. She touched my hand, adopting a gentle tone. “You are safe here, Michael. Please tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help.”

  “We had our first fight. The first big one, anyway. Belial is trying to take her from me and I’m not sure I can stop him,” I said, too ashamed to meet her gaze.

  “You speak of Jordan like she’s an object, not a person. It’s her decision to make, not yours. You cannot prevent this on your own.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up her hand to silence me. “I’m not saying that all is lost, but you must understand that even if you do everything you can to keep them apart, it is still something Jordan has to overcome. It’s your job as her husband to have faith in her and support her even when you are in doubt.”

  “It’s easier said than done,” I said, unable to hide my frustration. “We were fine before this all started but the second Belial walks back into our lives, everything goes to hell.”

  Catalina shook her head. “When will you young ones understand that life is what happens after you’ve made plans? Did you think that your happiness relied only on when your lives seemed simple?”

  “Of course not. But in spite of everything we’ve been through, our relationship has always been stable. Even when things were at their nastiest, we had each other to lean on. I suppose I’ve just gotten used to it being that way.”

  She squeezed my hand so that I’d look at her. “You are a very passionate man, Michael. Before Jordan, you were so strict and hardened. You were the best soldier any of us had ever seen, but you were missing something. Now that you’ve found that part of yourself, you’re scared of losing it and going back to the way you were. That’s why you’ve been so protective of Jordan. You’re afraid of going back to that life.”

  I sighed. “Am I that transparent?”

  “You’re allowed to have a weakness. Everyone is.”

  I stood abruptly as anxiety and anger surged within me. “But I’m not supposed to! I’m an archangel. That is who I am. I can’t have insecurities or fears or doubts because if I do, people will get hurt.”

  Catalina stood as well, keeping that perfect calm she always had. “You are not just an archangel. You are a man as well. And you will continue to struggle with these problems until you accept that about yourself. Being human isn’t a weakness. You of all people should know that by now.”

  I stepped closer to her, lowering my voice. “But what if that isn’t enough? What if I’m not enough?”

  “Shh,” she whispered. “Mi hijo, you are enough. I promise. If you need proof of that, just look at what you’ve done. Yours is the sword that cut the side of Satan. You have saved this world and the heavens above it more times than anyone cares to count. Jordan would not have fallen in love with you if you weren’t enough.”

  “Then what should I do?”

  “Have faith in yourself and in Jordan. Don’t let your fear override your responsibilities to her and to the people you are sworn to protect.”

  At last, I managed a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

  She kissed my forehead. “You’ll succeed. I know my daughter is stubborn, but she’ll forgive you.”

  “She misses you.”

  “I know.”

  “Ahem.”

  We both turned our heads to see a tall, dark-haired man in a grey duster identical to Jordan’s, a white dress shirt, and black slacks, his tie loose, hands in his pockets. He arched an eyebrow, the one with a thin white scar through it, and smirked.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” I said, resisting the urge to grin out of sheer fondness. “I was just leaving.”

  “Uh-huh. I always knew you had a thing for Cat,” he mused, walking over to Catalina’s side.

  She rolled her eyes. “You are insufferable, Andrew.”

  “I know, right? Isn’t it sexy?” the Seer teased, giving her a kiss. “They’re asking for you upstairs. Something about new recruits not knowing how to be sophisticated and devastatingly beautiful.”

  Catalina sighed. “Very well. If it gives me an excuse to get away from you, then I’ll accept the call.”

  “Ouch,” he said with a mock-offended look.

  She gave him a peck on the cheek and then nodded to me. “Take care, mi hijo. Give Jordan my love.”

  “I will.” She picked up the hem of her dress and started down the hill.

  We watched her go and then Andrew spoke. “I take it by your presence here that you’re having a few marital problems.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” I answered. “But Catalina seems to think I’ll be able to handle it.”

  “It’s not just her, y’know,” the older man said, his tone not unkind. “There’s a reason we’d follow you into the gates of Hell and back.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “No pressure.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Point taken. Still, I think you should give yourself a break. Jordan doesn’t need you to be perfect. She just needs you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Be good to her. I’d hate to have to kick your ass.” With that and another ro
guish grin, he turned and headed down the hill as well. I stood there for a moment and then returned the way I came, feeling just a bit taller.

  Chapter 13

  Jordan

  QUESTION ONE: WHERE do you go to blow off steam when you’re recovering from alcohol dependence and pissed off at your husband?

  Question Two: where do you go to blow off steam that isn’t packed full of drunk guys who want to take you home?

  Answer: a lesbian pool hall.

  The Lemon Drop was a club that had bought out the basement of an old barbershop. There was no dress code, no long lines, and no Ladies Night, for obvious reasons. Movies and TV always made such places look like obscenely campy joints, but this place had decently priced drinks, nice pool tables, and great music. I knew this only because Lauren had taken me here a few times when her asshole ex-husband worked her nerves and she wanted to hate men for a while.

  The temptation to drink hung over my head like an obnoxious, overweight ghost, but I ignored it and played a few rounds of pool with some girls I met. Only one of them tried to get my number, but I flashed my wedding ring and she respectfully gave up. The girls could tell by the look on my face that I didn’t want to chat or rant about men. I just wanted to go somewhere and think about something other than my life.

  I wasn’t any good at pool—just okay. Raphael had taught me to play. Every so often, he came through town and gave me lessons. Somehow, we had stumbled across the subject when he helped heal me after the incident with the Spear of Longinus. He was soft spoken, but whenever I saw him play, he shone with a brilliance that most guys would die to possess. The stereotype of the cool pool player was a staple in American culture for a reason. I enjoyed watching his dark eyes take in the position of the balls on the table, the steadiness of his hands when he aimed, and the small upward tilt of his mouth when he got a shot just right.

  “You wanna break this time?”

  I climbed out of my thoughts when Carol, the blonde woman I was playing against, spoke. I waved a hand at her. “Nah, you go ahead. I break like a sissy.”

  She snorted, tucking her cigarette in one corner of her mouth while she aimed. Clack! The balls scattered across the table. The solid one clunked into a pocket.

  “You’re pretty quiet. Sure you don’t want to blow off some steam?” she asked, taking aim.

  I leaned against the wall behind me. “Not really.”

  She made the shot, walking around the table to pick another ball. “C’mon, you’ve got to give me something. It’s dull if we don’t at least talk shit about each other’s game.”

  “You’re welcome to. I know I’m not that good.”

  “Yet,” she corrected, and missed the next shot. “You just gotta practice. It’s all about repetition. After a while, it’s second nature.”

  I aimed carefully. “Tch. To be honest, I don’t even trust my first nature, let alone a second one.”

  The blue striped clattered into a corner pocket. Maybe anger was the key to my game. Big surprise there.

  Carol watched with an amused look. “Why’s that?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Seems like I’m wrong about a lot of things. It takes me forever to trust someone and then, when they mess up, I always bail. It’s like I’m watching myself on TV or something and I pretend like the consequences don’t affect me.”

  I missed the next shot and Carol took over. “That’s not uncommon, y’know. I know I distance myself from some decisions I make so I won’t feel guilty if things go bad.”

  “Any idea how to fix it?”

  She paused, letting smoke curl up out of her nostrils. “Find something that’s worth feeling guilty over. Like that lucky husband of yours.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and she grinned. “C’mon, I saw you reject that hot brunette. Don’t pretend like you’re not straight.”

  I pouted. “Aw, does that mean you’re gonna kick me out?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Smart ass.”

  “Regardless of my backside’s education, you wouldn’t say that if you met my husband. He’s this stubborn, overprotective friggin’ know-it-all. Sometimes I think he doesn’t trust me even though I know he does and that drives me crazy. I doubt myself enough—I don’t want to start doubting him.”

  “Side-pocket.”

  I glanced down at the table and realized I hadn’t been paying attention to her methodically knocking all her balls in until only the eight ball was left. It bothered me enough to send her a frosty look over the table. “Did you start this conversation just so it could distract me and you could win the game?”

  “Who, me? Nah.” She shot straight and true, winning her second game. We were tied now. Good thing I hadn’t put money on it.

  “You’re a crafty lass, I’ll give you that,” I said, tipping my cranberry juice to her.

  She raised her amaretto sour in respect. “Trust me—if you’re this distracted, you don’t need to be here talking to me. You should be talking to him.”

  I sighed. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

  She laughed. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and resisted the urge to suck my teeth in annoyance. Michael had called a total of eleven times in the last two hours.

  Carol gave me a flat look. “Will you just answer it? The poor guy probably thinks you’re cheating on him.”

  “Buzzkill.”

  “Answer the damn phone.”

  I groaned and flipped open my phone, growling, “What?”

  At first, I heard nothing so I pressed one hand over my other ear, straining to listen.

  “Hello? Michael?”

  Then, faintly, I could hear the sound of a guitar and then his deep voice joined it. It was the opening stanza to the acoustic version of “If You Were Here.” It was the first song I’d ever heard him sing.

  I closed my eyes, trying not to react to the strained emotion in his soulful voice. Damn him. He knew what his singing did to me.

  “Michael, this isn’t going to work.”

  He kept singing through the second verse. I made myself hang up, but then I could hear it. The same music, only faint and gentle like an echo. I placed my pool cue on the table and walked towards the entrance to the bar. At the top of the stairwell stood my husband with his guitar and his cell phone propped up on the wall, singing as if it were perfectly normal and not some sort of 1980’s version of an apology. I walked up the stairs, wearing my best poker face as he continued through the song, watching me get closer and closer. A small crowd of girls had gathered behind him to see my reaction, which somehow made it both better and worse at the same time.

  When I finally reached him, I crossed my arms beneath my chest and spoke loud enough for him to hear over the music.

  “If I come home, will you stop playing this damn song?”

  He quit singing and smirked at me, his long fingers still strumming the tune.

  “Nothing says ‘I love you’ like pressuring you into forgiving me in the middle of a crowd of random spectators.”

  I wanted so badly to be angry with him, but I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my lips as I stared up at him in all his ridiculous glory.

  “Jackass.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  He played the final note and the girls behind him all clapped, cheered, and made catcalls. Michael slung the guitar around his back and took my hand, tugging me onto the step right below his and kissing me.

  “You know this doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I mumbled against his lips. He smiled.

  “I know. Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  THE MATTRESS TIPPED to the side and woke me up. My hair had shaken loose during the night so I pushed it out of the way to see my husband sitting next to me. A groan crawled out of my throat as I peered around looking for the clock.

  “What time is it?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Michael said. “It’s a ten-hour flight so I had to book the earliest one I could find. Just wanted to say bye.”
/>   “Mmkay. Call me when you land.”

  “I will.”

  A short, tense silence fell between us. After he came and got me from the bar, we didn’t talk about the fight. We just returned to his place and went to sleep since he had such an early flight. There were things I wanted to say and things I needed to say, but the words stuck to the back of my throat.

  In the end, I sighed and placed my hands on his shoulders, pulling him close. I kissed him, as gently as possible, my voice low. “Come back to me in one piece, okay?”

  “I will. I promise. Be careful.”

  “I will. Te amo.”

  He leaned in again, his lips soft and warm on mine. He cupped the side of my face, his thumb rubbing along the curve of my jaw. After what seemed like a blissful eternity, Michael pulled away and murmured, “Te amo.”

  He stood and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Darkness surrounded me. I tugged the covers over my shoulders, praying that God would keep my dreams safe and my husband safer.

  Chapter 14

  Michael

  MOST OF THE time, I had no problem flying coach, but for a ten-hour flight, I decided to try Gabriel’s first class approach. I had to admit my other reason for flying first-class was to keep Belial from working his dark magic on the other passengers. It would be a snap for him to convince some poor girl to join the Mile High Club and feed both his demonic energy and his ego. Not on my watch.

  It didn’t quite hit me that I’d be trapped on a plane with my mortal enemy for several hours until I woke up from my initial nap. Jordan and I had spent hours in bed, but I hadn’t slept for most of them. Offhand, it seemed unwise to fall asleep in front of someone who wanted to kill me, but Belial had no feasible escape plan even if he did try to murder me. Besides, it violated the terms of the agreement so I was safe enough. It was still disconcerting to wake up and see him sitting across from me leafing through a book.