by Harley James
But he was her Achilles Heel.
Or maybe her Achilles Hell.
Jade crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I did, but he was already planning to come after his assignment with the Dalai Lama.”
Katherine pressed her hand to her stomach. “How dare you—after everything I’ve told you?”
“Kat, you guys love each other and belong together. You’ve both been pig-headed for the last three years. Ari’s your soul mate; he was bound to feel your growing weakness. You had to know he’d show up here one of these days.”
To be sure. But she hadn’t planned on it being today. She shook her head repeatedly. “No. He’s only a potential soul mate. I have a choice in this. Besides he’s the one who left.” Even though she’d begged him—pleaded with him—to stay. She’d never known she was capable of such soul-stripping humiliation. Katherine’s whole body started to shake. She needed to hide. In a cave maybe, fetal position and all that. Fetal. Oh God, don’t use that word. She swallowed hard. Her mouth felt coated with sawdust. Speak slowly, don’t stutter. “I swear you’re fired if you don’t call him back and tell him to stay away from me. From this whole island.”
A drizzle of water from the emergency sprinkler slid down the side of Jade’s face, her blonde buzz cut as perfect as ever. “Fire me then. I don’t care, but you need his help. You can’t do all these exorcisms alone anymore.”
You can’t. YoucantYoucantYoucant. Heat fired through Katherine’s chest. You can’t save this baby was what they’d told her as she lay in the ER, bleeding and crying for the life dying in her womb.
For the joy ebbing from Ari’s eyes.
She pushed up from the bench, her legs steady again. Konani moved past her, wrangling a possessed man into the Devil’s Trap with a sterling silver crucifix and frequent streams of holy water from a spray bottle. She shook her wet, black bangs out of her eyes. “Can somebody please turn the sprinklers off? They’re diluting the holy water!”
Katherine was now juiced enough from Jade’s you can’t comment to shut them off with a thought. Konani hollered a quick thanks, maneuvered her target into the Devil’s Trap, then raced to the pool cabanas for her next mark. Katherine scanned the club, the DJ lights rolling red, purple, and blue across the copper dance poles and white leather furniture. Stark, Maddox, and Konani’s brother, Kaikoa, were tag-teaming the last of the possessions. But even with everything going on, Katherine couldn’t prevent Ari, that loathsome Viking—tall, muscular, and bronze all over—from entering her thoughts.
Just the mention of him made her dizzy. He would eat that up, arrogant, booming-laugh swashbuckler that he was. And she would go to hell before ever admitting she had a swooning bone in her body.
An unnatural wind suddenly galed through the club, undulating the diaphanous bolts of gauze that separated the dance floor from the outside pool terrace. The ground rumbled and shook, clinking the chandelier crystals again and raining chunks of wet plaster from the ceiling. Goosebumps broke out across Katherine’s arms as she dropped into a crouch.
This was no earthquake. A manifestation of these elements meant the Archangel Michael was here. Great. Deep power filled the space behind her so tangibly it seemed all the molecules in the room had compressed into their most volatile state.
Katherine tried to swallow back her fear before she turned around. I apologize for the Hell comment, Michael, but you should know by now that sarcasm is my native tongue.
“And you should know by now that sarcasm is indicative of passive aggression, which illuminates a flawed moral compass.”
She stood and turned around slowly, noting with alarm that the Archangel had frozen everyone in the club but her.
Oh, Lord, how could she forget how overwhelming he was? But then, the leader of Heaven’s army probably should be, right? Midnight hair, fathomless dark blue eyes, dressed in black from broad shoulders to boot-clad feet, Michael had followed God’s orders to bring the Guardians into existence from piss-poor examples of humanity more than two millennia ago.
Guardian leader Alexios—a valiant and honorable Spartan warrior from 521 BC—was the sole exception to the you-have-to-be-an-asshole-to-qualify selection process, though no one knew exactly why.
“Yeah, well, if you didn’t want your Guardians to be morally flawed, maybe the Big Boss should have chosen humans who’d lived exemplary lives instead of picking those of us who were bitches and bastards while we were alive,” Katherine said, crossing her fingers that the archangel wouldn’t smite her with some of the power vibrating in the room.
Then again, maybe being smote might be better than having to face Ari in her current gutless condition.
Michael’s dark eyes flashed with something that could have been humor. Which had to be a trick of light because the Archangel had been nothing but somber in the hundred and forty plus years since he’d given her the option between Hell and this purgatory. If I only knew then what I know now…
Michael raised an eyebrow.
“Oh quit, you know I’m joking. Well, not about the bitches and bastards part, but that bit about purgatory…” she paused, wondering how tolerant he was feeling today. “Kind of.”
“Most humans who have endeavored to live a good and peaceful life do not have the requisite constitution to physically battle demons. That job is best reserved for those who were a hair’s breadth away from the pits of Hell themselves. Those who know how to fight dirty when the situation demands it.”
Nice.
It was fabulous to have confirmation that she would have become one of the black-eyed fiends if not for the final decision she’d made as a human being. A single act of selflessness—an exclamation point at the end of her cold, egocentric existence. Katherine still didn’t understand why she’d done what she’d done in those last few minutes of her life. Sure, that woman’s husband had been an abusive monster, and Katherine had been a women’s rights suffragette in those days, but hers had been self-interested activism. When she’d run away at fifteen, she received boarding from a friend of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. She’d been spoon-fed women’s right ideology by the very leaders who’d made history.
But she’d only wanted a place to feel safe. Safe. So she listened to their speeches and attended their meetings. She never felt their passion. Their unrelenting drive for equality. She knew life wasn’t fair and never would be. Protecting the vulnerable had been remarkably out of character for her. So…in that one final moment…why had she taken the knife stab meant for that deranged man’s wife?
“You chose well at the time it mattered most. In twenty first century colloquial language, you made lemonade from lemons. There is honor in that,” Michael said.
“Jury’s still out on that. Lemonade sucks unless life also hands you tequila and salt.”
She wanted to get a rise out of him, but Michael’s expression remained inscrutable. “You hide your broken emotions behind bravado, Guardian. You will fail in your duties if you do not find a way to surmount your grief, despair, and loneliness. Failure is unacceptable, for the battle will soon arrive at your door.”
Grief, despair, loneliness. Her heart pounded harder in her chest, but she forced her mind to go blank so the archangel wouldn’t see how close to home his words hit. “Such apocalyptic commentary, but you don’t scare me, Michael. If the End Times were near, you’d be polishing your weapons and powwowing with Gabriel and Raphael, and the rest of the Archangel God-squad instead of popping in at my lowly club. So spare me the lofty prose. This is obviously about Ari, and I’ll have you know, I still don’t—” she was going to say want him, but Michael would pounce on that lie faster than a babysitter’s boyfriend lit out the back door when the parents’ car pulled up, “I still haven’t changed my mind. I refuse to bond with him.”
Michael’s eyebrows pulled down fractionally, and she felt a flare of triumph at getting his expression to change, even if it was infinitesimal. She put a hand on her hip. “So you might as well undo this kumbaya thing between him and me. Or at l
east move on to my next soul mate. Everyone has more than one, right? Because the Big Boss Upstairs seems to place a lot of weight on free will. So if we only had one person we could be happy with for the rest of our lives, well that sucks!” Michael remained silent as a stone. She took one step forward to snap her fingers in his face, but thought better of it. Staying alive trumped self-expression. “Well? Angels have to be honest, right? Tell me. Please.”
Michael’s gaze considered her for a moment. She tried not to squirm at its directness, as though he was trying to peel back her deepest layers.
Finally, “There is no one person who is your only hope, as there is no limit on human happiness.”
She frowned. “I knew it! This soul mate thing is just some shitty Guardian propaganda.”
“Enough.” Michael’s form glimmered and the floor rumbled beneath her feet. “You disappoint me, Guardian. I shall be sorry should I have to relieve you of your duties.”
She threw up her hands. “I’m bound to fail since I’m not rejuvenating after the exorcisms. I’m doing everything I always have, but it’s not working any more.”
“You have not tried everything because you have never truly opened your heart to possibility with the Viking.” The archangel vanished as quickly as he’d come, unfreezing everyone in his wake.
“Oh really? What do you call making a baby with him?” she yelled at the ceiling as the renewed pealing screams of the possessed corralled in the Devil’s Trap coincided with the pounding in her frontal lobe.
“An open heart is not a prerequisite for a biological event,” came Michael’s reply.
Katherine cursed. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes and pressed her palms against her temples. And then Jade was in her face, her big brown eyes all concerned. Katherine held up a hand to halt her before she could start her hey-girl-let’s-hug-this-out spiel. “It’s a beautiful day to leave me alone, Jade. By calling Ari against my wishes, you’ve inspired my inner serial killer. Truly.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Jade retorted. “You need to simmer down and wait to start de-devilling these people until Ari gets here. But in the mean time, can you at least shut them up? Cripes, they’re a noisy bunch.”
Katherine would’ve tried silencing the screamers, but since it annoyed Jade, she decided against it. It would expend too much energy anyway. She glanced up at Konani, wishing she had the time and energy to take their yearly trip to the Polynesian tattoo artist in Hilo. It had been their November tradition since Katherine took down the sex trafficking ring that had enslaved fifteen-year-old Konani and her eleven-year-old brother Kaikoa. Hard to believe that was ten years ago. Harder still to believe that her Guardianship hadn’t been immediately revoked when she hunted down their gutless pimp and fed him to the pua’a boars in the forest near Mauna Loa.
That had to have been against Guardian rules.
Maybe Michael didn’t know.
Yeah right. The Archangel was probably waiting to drop some massive judgment on her when she least expected it. Probably another ‘biological event’ that would rip her heart out. But if and when he did, it would still be worth the satisfaction she’d felt.
Her gaze lingered on Konani’s first tattoo—a scrolling wrist cuff that replaced the barcode her pimp had crudely drawn to mark her as his property. The replacement tattoo was a work of art, and for Konani, a symbol of mastery over the trauma of her past.
Katherine rubbed her temples where a mini-drumbeat pounded. “Nani, would you mind making me one of your chia energy drinks?”
The mixologist’s long, dark hair slid across her shoulders with a nod. “Don’t do as many exorcisms as last time, alright? These spooks aren’t going anywhere, you know.”
“She shouldn’t be attempting any exorcisms right now,” Jade told Konani before grabbing a water bottle from the bar fridge and turning back to Katherine. “I’m not kidding, Kat. You think you’re invincible, but Guardians can die, too.”
“I’m well aware of that, thank you.” Too aware, in fact. If Leviathan made a play for the holy relic Katherine protected—the Chains of St. Peter, which had been strangely glowing for the last two weeks—Katherine wasn’t sure she’d be able to stave off the archdemon. “Look at these wailing cretins. I’d let them destroy each other if it weren’t for the demons inside them that piss me off more.” Another scream distracted her thoughts of a diminishing human race. “Maddox! Get that knave’s mouth off the woman in blue!” To see their humanity vanish never ceased to unsettle her. Healing them brought her a measure of peace, a redemption of sorts, but of course that was selfish in and of itself, so there was a nice dose of guilt thrown into the mix. Wasn’t that awesome?
Katherine took the energy concoction from Konani, but was only able to drink a few swallows. She set the glass on the nearest table, her stomach churning as she wiped the perspiration from her hands on her ruined pant legs. Was she actually dying, or was it nerves because that damn Viking was on his way?
The last time he’d checked in, trying to do his soul mate duty, she’d coldly sent him away, just as she’d done six or eight times in the three years since her miscarriage. But the last time, he’d been furious at her rejection. She’d hardly ever seen him angry. It simply wasn’t his nature. But he clearly hadn’t moved past his negative feelings because he hadn’t returned since.
And really, there was no reason for her to feel guilty about that. He only showed up when it was convenient for him.
She could feel the staff’s eyes bore holes in her. “Everyone had better carry on with their day before I go on a pink slip binge. Having to replace all of you at the same time would seriously displease me.”
“You’re always displeased,” Stark muttered from across the dance floor, but with her supercharged Guardian hearing, his words registered loud and clear.
“That’s no aloha spirit, boss,” Kaikoa added.
Sweet Kai with his unapologetic optimism, poetic eyes, and flawless Hawaiian good looks…. How had he remained so hopeful and compassionate despite the horrors he and his sister survived? And why did he continue to work for a battle-axe like her? He could get a job anywhere on the island doing more pleasant work, yet he spent his time rounding up demons and human possessions.
He was the only one she couldn’t bring herself to be outright awful to. How irritating.
“The aloha spirit withers when in range of my shrewish shadow, Kai. Now, out—all of you. I don’t need any of you here for this part.” Especially if she passed out afterwards. Or worse, if she failed mid-exorcism and the rootless demon chose one of her team members as its new host. It was unlikely, yes, because a host needed to be morally vulnerable for the spirit to take root there, but she still wasn’t about to risk her people in case they were having an off day.
“Why don’t you at least change clothes first,” Jade suggested. “You look like hell, and you’ve got to be uncomfortable in that wet number.”
Indeed. But her private quarters were twenty stairs away, and the thought of getting there was exhausting. “Last I checked, I’m the boss. Everyone go get some coffee or something. When you come back, refill your holy water. Keep your rosaries, crucifixes, and salt close at hand at all times. And watch each others’ backs,” she barked.
“Text me if you need anything.” Konani’s caring eyes felt like sledgehammers to Katherine’s floundering façade of strength.
“I don’t need anything. Now get out of here, all of you, dammit.” Hopefully they’d stay away long enough to ensure their safety.
Konani grabbed her purse from behind the golden bar with its glowing nude silhouettes, then ran to catch up with Stark, Maddox, and Kaikoa as they walked into the bright sunshine on the club’s main terrace. Katherine’s shoulders sank as she turned to look at the writhing mass of possessions in the Devil’s Trap—a solid dozen of them—unable to suppress her desperation any longer. She felt more than heard Jade take a st
ep toward her. “Don’t. Please, Jade. I hate that you think my directives don’t apply to you.” She dared not look back at the woman, the only living blood relative she had. Though six generations had lived and died between them, with Katherine’s Guardian agelessness, they looked like contemporaries.
Three years ago when she lost the baby, she and Ari didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. He left in order to find Jade—so he said—and brought her to Waikiki.
Jade sighed. “Well, I hate that you think I don’t know you care way more than you let on. I hate that you carry this burden alone. And I hate that you don’t love me enough to let me in,” she finished quietly.
Katherine’s eyes closed, her lips parting in silent pain, but she summoned a breezy smirk before she turned around. “Now who’s being dramatic? Go take a break, okay? I’ll be fine.”
“Listen. I met a psychologist who specializes in Electra Complex—”
Katherine gritted her teeth and willed her breath to slow. “I’m sorry, what language are you speaking? Because it sounds a lot like bullshit.” She turned to walk toward the Devil’s Trap, finally ready to start dealing with the evil shits.
Jade’s heels clicked rapidly toward her. “Daddy issues are nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not your fault.”
Katherine swung around to face her. “You really want to go there after our last smack down about this?”
“I won’t abandon you, Kat. Not everyone is like that. I’ll prove it to you if it takes my whole life.” Jade’s warm green eyes were so earnest. So…loving.
How, and more importantly, why?
A dark corner of Katherine’s soul shivered and pulled the inky blanket tighter around her. How she hated when people ripped the scabs off. You’d think living with Jade in her face for the past few years, she’d have developed scar tissue by now, but somehow the free-spirited, good-hearted woman could shine light into the tiniest of cracks.
One of these times Katherine was bound to implode.
One of these days Jade would finally realize that her four-times removed great-aunt was so grievously flawed she was past redemption.