The Gallery

by Megan Derr

  He could feel the presence of at least one demon, possibly two, though the second one was faint and a little strange.

  Reaching up, he removed the necklace around his neck, grasped the charm, and summoned forth his sword of holy fire. "Demon!"

  A sibilant hiss replied, and out of the smoke and ruin slithered an enormous figure: a broad, heavily-muscled man with the body of a ponderous serpent from the waist down. He was at least half again as large as Rathanael, and his body and horns were drenched in blood.

  "Oh, look, a glow bug has arrived. What took you so long, Rathanael?"

  "Begone, Bathym. We both know you cannot best me."

  "Don't be too sure of that." Bathym roared, and out of the smoke came a hoard of imps, led by a smattering of lesser demons so weak they did not yet merit names or ranks.

  Rathanael braced himself, held his sword aloft, and bid holy fire consume them. That took out most of them, and the rest were quickly dispatched in ones and twos.

  By the time he'd done away with Bathym's absurd distraction, however, the second demon had appeared. But as Rathanael drew close, he realized they were not in collusion—the new demon was doing his best to hold Bathym back while whoever, or whatever, was still behind all the smoke fought to escape or put up new wards.

  Surging forward, Rathanael removed the choker around his neck and threw it at Bathym, shouting incantations as it struck true in a shower of blinding white-gold fire. Bathym screamed in fury, and the second demon wailed in pain.

  But the halo did its job, extending in length and wrapping around Bathym from his throat all the way to the venomous tip of his long tail.

  "Betrayer of the Light, return to the realm to which you were banished eternally, in the name of the Light and Her Children." Rathanael swung his sword, and Bathym gave a last furious scream before bursting into blood-red ash.

  The halo returned to its choker form, nothing but soft, worn white leather lying on the ground. Rathanael restored his sword to necklace form, and then put the choker back on. With a sharp spreading of his arms, the lingering smoke and flames vanished.

  He knelt in front of the second demon, who lay unconscious, battered and bleeding, on the ruined sidewalk. Now that Bathym was gone, he could better feel this demon—and he wasn't a demon at all, not really, but a human infected with demon blood. But his aura did not show demonic veins, only traces of warped color, meaning he wasn't the one to infect himself. Likely passed down through the family line. "Who are you, lovely?"

  Much as he would like to linger over the beautiful, intriguing human suffering from demon rot, there were more important things at the moment. Rathanael bent over him and pressed a soft kiss to the man's temple. "Rest peacefully and wake restored, blessed you be."

  Standing, he picked his way over the destruction and into the Gallery itself.

  A handsome man who radiated so much power he could only be Silenus was speaking with a small group of people, handing out orders on what to do with the building, various persons, and so forth. The whole group looked battered, exhausted, and a few were in serious need of healing.

  They all froze as they noticed him. Silenus pushed through the cluster with a pretty little incubus in his shadow. "Thank you for saving us."

  "One does not need thanks for fulfilling the purpose for which they are crafted," Rathanael intoned. Then he smiled faintly. "But you're welcome. I am sorry I did not get here sooner. I hope there were no casualties?"

  "No, though it was a near thing. If you'd come any later, there would have been many. I didn't expect him to attack me directly like that. Demons usually use more insidious means."

  "Bathym could not be insidious if he tried, though he favors the form of a half-serpent. How do the humans say it? He is a hammer, and every problem a nail. I sense this is only the beginning for you, Silenus. What do you have that demons, or their human masters, would covet?"

  The incubus snorted. "What doesn't he have?"

  Rathanael laughed briefly. "A fair point. But we can discuss this later. If you will move to the street, I believe I have power enough remaining to restore your home."

  "Don't bother," Silenus said grimly. "The Gallery will be moving to a new location."

  "I see. I am certainly happy to help as I can."

  The incubus frowned and stared briefly at Rathanael before turning to Silenus. "Do angels always do this? Show up out of nowhere looking like they belong in a biker gang and just start offering all kinds of help?"

  Rathanael's laughter prevented Silenus's reply. "You must be new to this world that escapes human notice, little incubus."

  "It's Rex."

  "Rex, then. Angels do as the Light commands. I was bidden find the hellish disturbance in this city, as I was created to be a slayer of demons. After the threat was addressed, I was to offer protection if it seemed necessary. Which it most certainly does. So until the Light ordains otherwise, you may consider me at your service."

  Silenus bowed slightly. "We are honored to have your assistance, angel."

  "You may call me Rathanael, or Rathan, since that's a bit of a mouthful. How may I be of service at this time?"

  "Honestly, I'd be grateful if you would attend Laurence. He bears demon blood, and it was due largely to his efforts that we held on for so long. His immunity to many of Bathym's tricks made all the difference, but I fear this affair will have upset him deeply."

  Rathanael bowed, hoping his eagerness did not show, for it was most inappropriate in the midst of all the ruin and strife. "The demon-infected. Yes, I admit I was intrigued by that one. I will attend him. Where should I take him?"

  "His painting is still intact. You can take him there, and we can transfer it without having to disturb you. If you go through that door, the gallery is still capable of guiding you."

  Bowing again, Rathanael turned neatly and strode back through the thinning smoke to the prone figure on the pavement. Scooping Laurence up, Rathanael made his way through the rubble and into the still-standing portions of the Gallery.

  It wasn't long before he came upon a painting of a high-rise office that was glaringly lacking a person and seemed to shimmer as he drew close. "How predictable," Rathanael murmured, but with a smile. He walked straight up to the painting and vanished right before crashing into the wall.

  For all the office in the painting had looked imposing, standing in it revealed looks were deceiving. It was elegant and expensive, but rather than the usual cold, impersonal touches he expected, the office was filled with all sorts of home-like touches.

  There was a large fish tank taking up most of one wall, filled with an elaborate underwater kingdom and populated by miniature mermaids and other such fanciful creatures. The walls of the office were decorated with photos—of people smiling, laughing, being silly. Instead of the usual cheap, beige carpet, there was a soft, plush, bright blue one; a sofa of a darker blue that was half-covered with colorful afghans and throw pillows; and a coffee table piled with books, comics, and magazines.

  He went to lay Laurence on the couch, then spied the bed through a nearby door. Nudging the door all the way open with his foot, he then carried Laurence through and gently deposited him on the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, Rathanael picked up his arm and lapped away the blood from a cut.

  The infected blood thrummed through him, a rush of hot followed by a rush of cold, and helplessly revealed its secrets: Balaam, demon of avarice and greed. That explained the CEO office setting.

  But it did not explain the comic books, the numerous novels, the whimsical fish tank—or the fairy tale landscape stretching out beyond the building. Rathanael went still as realization struck. Not the building. The tower. Laurence was a self-imposed Rapunzel. He'd locked himself away in a tower, deep in a forest… Was he waiting for some prince or princess to come save him?

  Rathanael had existed longer than humans. He'd seen more creations live and die than humans had yet learned existed. While he had been moved by many of those creations, none had e
ver made his heart skip and then speed alarmingly the way this sudden realization did—the way this single demon-infected human had.

  Normally, demon-infected were so corrupted they could not be saved, and often they got themselves killed long before an angel came to deal with the matter. He'd never heard of one who locked himself away, and though his aura was complicated, there was no demon taint to it, only the discoloration caused by the presence of the blood.

  Rathanael reached out to brush the back of his hand against one cheek. "Whoever you are or were, you are quite remarkable, Laurence."

  Laurence grunted, eyes pinching. "Remarkable is one word for me." His eyes slowly opened—then snapped wide, and he jerked upright and backed away all in one clumsy motion, nearly falling off the far side of the bed. "Who—what—are you? You're almost painful to look at."

  "That's because you're demon-infected, but don't worry, it will wear off. My name is Rathanael—Rathan. I am an angel of the Third Heaven, and made by the Light to thwart demons. I banished Bathym and was asked to attend you by Silenus. You are Laurence, correct?"

  "Yes. Laurence Stone. What about everyone else? Are they okay?"

  "Everyone is fine, though some are the worse for wear. But Silenus assured me he had everything well in hand; he was quite adamant I stay with you while he tended everything else."

  Laurence frowned. "I'm fine. One stupid encounter with a demon isn't enough to break me. Try dealing with a board of directors—demons are nothing."

  "All the same, here I stay. Unless you want to go argue with Silenus."

  Lauren grunted. "So you're really an angel?" He stared at Rathanael like he did not know what to say next, or even necessarily what to think. "Shouldn't you be smiting me or something?"

  Rathanael smiled faintly and stood. "It is true that demon-infected must all too often be granted the mercy of everlasting peace—"

  "That is the most ridiculous term for murder I have ever heard," Laurence said flatly. "And trust me, I grew up in a family of killers: I've heard them all."

  "There's killing and then there's killing," Rathanael replied. "But my point is, you are the only exception I've ever encountered in my very long life. No doubt others have existed, but I never crossed paths with them. Certainly I've never even heard of one who locked himself away in a tower." He tilted his head. "Are you waiting to be rescued?"

  Laurence's face flushed, an oddly endearing quality on a man who looked as though he controlled everything he saw with utter ruthlessness. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I like skyscrapers, that's it."

  Even the best demons could not lie successfully to an angel, but Rathanael let him get away with it. Mostly because he'd only just now realized what else he was feeling in regards to Laurence: lust.

  He could not recall the last time someone had provoked such a feeling in him. But he held dominion over the thwarting of demons. Perhaps this demon-esque human needed thwarting of a different nature.

  Yes, the more he thought about it, the more right it felt. The Light had bid him come here, and so this must be his path.

  Rathanael shrugged out of his leather jacket, then sat to remove his heavy black boots.

  Laurence had backed away to stand by a fancy looking dresser made of dark gold wood and carved all over with various flora and fauna. He still wore what little remained of a fancy suit and was covered in blood, ash, and other grime. "Do all angels look like members of motorcycle clubs?"

  "No," Rathanael said with a laugh. "I simply enjoy it, though I do not belong to any club. I follow none but the Light."

  "Yeah, I can definitely tell you're an angel. I'm going to get a shower." Laurence turned, vanished through another door, and slammed it shut behind him.

  Rathanael chuckled and set his boots aside. Humans really were delightful, and he was especially enjoying this one so far. What was he like when not confronted with an angel? Bolder and bossier, likely. But where a demon would simply be enraged by Rathanael's presence, a demon-infected… well, it was like facing the cub instead of the tiger. And Rathanael was meant for killing tigers. Even the fiercest cub was not prepared for him.

  A delightful shiver slid down his spine. He removed his socks and rose, pulling his hair free of its bun and combing through the heavy, dark-brown strands.

  He moved to the windows and admired the beauty beyond, until Laurence returned nearly an hour later. "Are you feeling better?"

  "You're still here. And clearly you're making yourself at home. Why?"

  "Because I feel I am meant to be here—and I was asked to attend you and promised I would do so."

  Laurence sneered and tossed aside the towel he'd been using to dry his short hair. "I don't need attending, certainly not by you. When I want something, I ask for it—or demand it."

  Anticipation tingled down Rathanael's spine. "Yes, I would imagine a human with the blood of Balaam would be quite good at demanding—but I'd wager you do not take unless invited. Your intact aura says as much."

  "I'm a bastard, not a monster." Laurence narrowed his eyes. "What are you really up to?"

  Smiling, Rathanael prowled across the room and right up to Laurence, backing him up against the wall. He was wearing lounge pants and a soft, thin t-shirt, neither of which was made for hiding reactions. "I am made to thwart demons, and I find that I really want to thwart you."

  Laurence scowled—or tried to, but there was too much trepidation and longing buried in those beautiful blue eyes. Too rich a color, too vibrant and slightly glowy, to be entirely human. "You can try, angel, but nobody has managed to thwart me in all the years I've been alive. Not my nurse, not my parents, not my first boss. I'm especially not going to tolerate being pushed around by some sparkling asshole in my own home. So back off." He reached out and shoved hard at Rathanael's chest—

  And bellowed in outraged surprised when Rathanael grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and all but threw him on the bed—and pinned him there, not quite putting all of his weight on Laurence's back. "Oh, yes, you're quite lovely this way," Rathanael all but purred. "I bet you do not show this side to anyone; none are worthy."

  "Worthy?" Laurence gave a laugh meant to sound dismissive but which only came out disconcerted. "More like this really isn't my style. I wasn't CEO because I was the nice, submissive type."

  "Then why do you smell of lust?" Rathanael murmured. "Why do you lie there when your demon-granted strength could fight me better than this? You should know better than to lie to an angel. We can see when you do so. It's a flicker in the aura and a dimming in the eyes."

  Laurence snorted, trying to crane his head to look at Rathanael. "I can assure you, nothing of mine has ever dimmed from being dishonest."

  "Lie."

  "Let me go."

  Instead, Rathanael shifted, straddling Laurence's thighs and pinning his arms to the bed. He bent low and feathered the barest kiss across the back of Laurence's neck, relishing the shiver that elicited, the sharp intake of breath. "You're mine, demon. The Light ordains it, and even if she didn't, I think I would defy Her to have you."

  "I'm pretty sure that sort of talk is what gets your lot into trouble. Let. Me. Go."

  That time, Rathanael obeyed—but the moment Laurence turned around, Rathanael straddled him again, grinding against the hard cock tenting the soft pants. "I haven't done this for a long time, and the last one had very different parts, but I believe I recall what to do with yours. I currently have the same, but I can change them if you prefer something different?"

  Laurence glared.

  "I can see the true desire in your aura, little demon mine."

  "I'm not yours."

  Rathanael bent low, so their faces were not quite touching. "But you are, and you're angry because you can feel it. What could be more fitting than an angel made for thwarting demons and a human who's always thwarted his own demon rot?"

  Laurence said nothing, only continued to glare, but there was longing in his eyes, stronger than ever, and that aur
a burned with need.

  Sighing softly, happy and grateful to the Light for leading him to this path, Rathanael closed the remaining thread of space between them and took Laurence's mouth. He kissed gently at first, soft and steadying—and then Laurence groaned and melted beneath him, and finally used that strength they both knew he had to yank an arm free.

  A hand tangled in Rathanael's hair, holding it painfully tight, and then Laurence was attacking his mouth like a man starved to the precipice of death. Heat and joy rushed through Rathanael as he matched it, letting go of Laurence's other arm so he could sit up and drag Laurence with him, wrap arms around him and hold him close as he memorized the taste and feel of his pretty little human.

  Eventually, he drew back, sucking and nibbling on those luscious lips on his way, panting softly as he stared into eyes like living flame. "I bet people love being bent over your desk, don't they, beauty?"

  "Is that what you're asking for?" Laurence asked, smirking. But disappointment flickered at the edges of his aura.

  Rathanael climbed to his feet and removed his shirt, tossing it to join his shoes and jacket. Then he opened the fastenings of his leather pants, pushed them down, and kicked them off.

  On the bed, Laurence made a strangled noise. "Are you wearing panties."

  "You don't like them?" Rathanael ran his hands over the dark purple lace with tiny black bow accents. "This is one of my favorite pairs."

  Laurence gave him a look and replied flatly, "I hate them."

  "Then come and take them off," Rathanael said.

  Instead, Laurence grabbed his wrist and yanked him down onto the bed, rolling on top of him and grinding down hard. "You're a brat."

  "You are in no position to be casting that stone."

  In reply, Laurence kissed, hard and toothy, plundering Rathanael's mouth. Rathanael sank his hands into that soft, pretty hair and stole control of the kiss, relishing the soft moans that elicited.

  Tearing away, Laurence watching him with stormy eyes.

  "It's safe to fall," Rathanael said softly. "I'm here to catch you. If I have my way, I always will be."