Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  “Because you’re an angel,” she answered without hesitation. Ramiel had told her so himself. As heavenly creatures, they induced lust. There was no reason to believe that just because an angel had fallen, that would be any different. “I also know that angels don’t get biblical with humans, so you can can the seductive routine.”

  He turned the same move on Riona, reaching out to her and twisting a strand of her auburn hair around his finger, tracing the contours of the curl as it fell down her shoulder, over her collar bone, and drifted over her breast. “Fancy that you know a bit about angels, don’t you, darlin’?”

  “Enough, but you know the old saying: how can you add water to a full cup? What I’d really like to know about …” Taking a step in, she leaned into him, aligning her mouth with his. “… are demons. Particularly, about what happens to a demon when I vanquish it.”

  His hand went down to her waist before circling around to her, pulling their bodies flush to each other. “Curious about how the other half dies, are you? I could arrange a personal tour, if you like, and you don’t have to do a damned thing. Well, technically, you have to do a damning thing, but the possibilities are endless on that front.”

  Her finger traced down his jawline. “No possibilities for a field trip?”

  “Been skipping class again? Human flesh …” His hand reached up to run the back side of his knuckles over her cheek, down her neck, and along the borders of her flannel shirt. “It has many great qualities, but it can’t survive Hell. Without a proper chauffeur, you’d be dead the moment you crossed the river. And no matter how many times I see The Wizard of Oz, I just can’t convince myself that dead witches are any fun, Riona.”

  Her head cocked to the side. “You know my name, and yet I don’t know yours. That’s very unfair.”

  “If you know an angel’s name, you can invoke them. You must know that.”

  Teasing his lips with her fingertip, she pulled her best pouty routine. “Maybe I’ll want to call you sometime. So, what is it?”

  “Azazel.”

  Ramiel ground out the name like an accusation. Riona and the newly-revealed Azazel both whipped around to take in the figure silhouetted against the fluorescent lights at the end of the corridor, a corridor which just moments ago had been bustling, but which now stood as barren as a ball park in a blizzard.

  “Though, mark my words, Riona, you won’t invoke him. Ever.” Ramiel’s hand shot down, pointing at the spot on the floor beside him. “Please step away from the General of the army that tried to overthrow Heaven and come stand next to me.”

  Looking like a teenager obediently but reluctantly accepting her father’s admonishment, Riona gave Azazel a fleeting smile before going to stand next to Ramiel. He quickly shoved her around the corner, where Dee waited to provide another layer of protection. The demigod pressed her against the wall. Leaning her head, she could still see Ramiel, but only Azazel’s voice still reached her ears. All the good that did. An exchange of heated words and bitter tones ensued in a tongue she couldn’t understand. Something older than any human language, she was sure. After several moments, she gleaned from Ramiel’s tone that their interaction had reached some point of finality.

  She heard Azazel sigh. “You know, you should thank me, brother. With Lucifer vanquished, someone has to be topside to oversee our demon lot. Otherwise, they’d all run willy-nilly about. Just think of the havoc.”

  “See to your Damnationals, then, but remember that only Lucifer was given permission to battle the Pure Souls directly. I see you anywhere near one of my chosen again, and I’ll be sending your ass on a twenty-nine year vacation, resain?”

  “Resain,” Azazel repeated, followed by a hearty chuckle. “She looks so much like him, you know.” His body leaned to the side, as though trying to see Riona where she stood shielded. “Has anyone ever told you that before, how much you look like your father?”

  Riona’s eyes went wide, and instinctively she tried to clear her protector’s body so she could take the juicy bait Azazel dangled.

  Ramiel’s arm lashed out, securing her against the wall. Moving was impossible, and he’d even found a way to silence her voice. “Pack up your gear and go,” Ramiel warned. “Next time I find you near one of my soldiers, you and I are going to have us a little angelus-a-angelus rumble, resain?”

  From where or which direction Jerry came, she’d never be sure. Maybe she was too focused on Ramiel’s words to notice, but when the ex-demon rounded the corner with a pitchfork in hand and magic on his lips, the sight of Jerry enraptured her.

  “Why you still talking to this scum bucket, Ramiel? You know Grigori respond to one thing and one thing only.” His arms outstretched and with an invocation she was going to beat the working of from him just as soon as possible, Jerry’s whole being conflagrated, sending flame over his body, out to the tips of the pitchfork. “Fire!” he shouted as the pitchfork’s prongs pierced the Grigori’s abdomen.

  Dee’s arms caged around her when instinct told her she had to keep Jerry from getting himself killed. Ramiel reacted quicker, however, pulling forth his wings from whatever back pocket or invisible duffle bag he stored them, and wrapped them around Jerry, forming a layer of protection. It was unnecessary. Whatever it was, whatever Jerry unleashed, hit Azazel in the chest, sending shreds of his existence whizzing in a thousand directions.

  Dee’s chest expanded and shrank in rapid succession. He ran his hand through his black locks, pulling. “What the Jim Dandy? Did you …” His eyes turned confusedly to Jerry. “Did you just vanquish an angel?”

  “Not vanquish, just got him to dismiss himself. It’s an old trick, but I’ve rarely seen it done so ...” Ramiel searched the air for the appropriate word. “… knowledgably.”

  Jerry pushed himself out of the feathered cage, which began to fade back into oblivion. “There’s always time for showmanship,” he offered. “Now, we gonna waste time sitting here yelling? Because both you and I know we got only minutes before he finds his way back here. Personally, I’d like to be safely inside the safe house ASAP.”

  A pained expression erupted onto Ramiel’s face. “Get home. Go as quickly as you can.”

  Normally up to blindly following whatever Ramiel said, this time the need didn’t feel genuine. Riona still stared blankly where just moments before, a Grigori had stood. “Jerry, what did you do? I don’t understand.”

  Ramiel growled. “We’ll talk about it later.” He pushed Riona insistently into Dee with one hand while smacking her on the backside with the other. “Get your ass home, and don’t leave the safe house. I’ll be there just as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 13

  Dee tossed his keys on the table the second he came in the door. “I’m calling it a night.” He gave Riona a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed. “Get some rest.”

  “That’s it?” She cocked a hip and glared at the demigod who acted like they had just meandered in from a pleasant evening’s walk around the Commons. “You telling me you don’t want to wait for Ramiel? Jesus Christ, Dee, we just had a showdown with a fallen angel.”

  A half-smile cracked across the demigod’s face. “Every so often you remind me of how innocent you still are.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted at that statement.

  Dee rubbed his hands over her arms. “I admit, I’ve never been as close to a Grigori as you were tonight. Maybe they don’t like my bone structure. But it’s not exactly the first time I’ve ever crossed paths with one. Besides, you don’t realize the real problem with what happened tonight wasn’t the angel, it was Jerry and you.”

  She looked back over her shoulder, but the door was still closed, and Jerry was still on the other side. “Meaning what?”

  “Right, because you didn’t notice how you tried to claw your way through me when he confronted Azazel.” Dee shrugged. “You know how they say the key to happiness for couples is not to go to bed angry?”

  Riona didn’t know, but she nodd
ed for convenience.

  “Well,” Dee continued, “if you want to keep the status quo with Jerry, you better be sure you go to bed with him knowing you still think he’s a right bastard. Your little swoon tonight might have him thinking otherwise. Of course, I’m assuming that keeping the status quo is what you’re after.”

  Pulling back the curtain, she looked out on the stoop. Jerry sat, his back turned to her, his fist still clenched in rage, staring out at the street.

  “Give him a quick tell off, then let him simmer,” Dee suggested. “Ramiel is going to take a bite out of his ass as it is. Taking on a Grigori like that. It’s surprising we’re not bringing him home in a tin can. Anyways, ‘night.”

  If Jerry was aware of her staring at him, he gave no indication. On the contrary, he seemed off in his own world. Half expecting Ramiel to pop in at any moment and tear him a new one, she hung back, too concerned to leave him. Finally, after several tense minutes of going back and forth, she took a deep breath and reached for the door knob.

  He addressed her without turning, “Don’t come any closer.”

  Her hands went up defensively, though she couldn’t say for whose benefit. “I just want to make sure you’re okay out here. It’s cold. You should come inside.”

  The low rumble sounded at first like a truck approaching. When she noticed Jerry’s shoulders shaking and a cloud huffing from his mouth, she realized the laughter was his. “I spent two thousand years coming ‘home’ each night to roast in hellfire. You think I would run away now from the cold?” His back arched as he flexed his hands, making his knuckles pop. “I find the numbness it brings soothing.”

  She ignored his cautioning and walked down the stairs to sit next to him. “Congratulations on being the only person I’ve ever met who finds New England winters a turn on.”

  His eyes danced circles around her, checking her for signs of mental stability. Finally, the tension reached a breaking point, and they both grinned, then broke down laughing.

  “Go inside, Riona. I just need some time to decompress.”

  She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Listen, Jerry, about tonight … You know you shouldn’t have done that, right? Taking on a fallen angel … It’s way out of our league.”

  He swiveled his head to her and took her in, amused. “Speak for yourself. Azazel ain’t exactly a stranger to me, remember? You know how many nights I spent at his hooves hearing about his glory days? How many wicked ways he taught me to lie, to cheat, to corrupt? And he was more than my mentor.”

  “More how?”

  “Lucifer molds most demons into flesh,” Jerry answered. “But sometimes one of the other Grigori do it instead. Special projects, et cetera. Azazel remade me.”

  A second father, Riona thought, though she dare not insult Jerry by saying it aloud. She knew intimately that you didn’t get to choose your dad. “Ramiel was there, he had it under control. Why didn’t you just back off?”

  “No, I’m not telling you.”

  He could not have appeared more of a petulant child. “Come on. I have to know.”

  “Fine.” Jerry huffed out a breath, letting his shoulders droop. “I …” mumble mumble …

  Riona cupped her ear and grinned mischievously. “Sorry, what?”

  “I got jealous, I said. I saw you with him and I was jealous, okay? And maybe it’s because of my demon history, or maybe it’s because I’m just still that much of a caveman, but I saw your body pressed to his and I wanted him to die.”

  Riona wouldn’t deny the admission gave her a bit of a thrill. “You had nothing to be jealous of. I was only feeling him up for information. I was much more thrown off kilter by his damned demon horse than the pull of his body. Speaking of which …” Until now, she’d forgotten the odd occurrence. “Was that really what it was? A demon horse?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of the four horsemen of the apocalypse?” Jerry asked. She nodded. “Well, that was one of the horses. Nasty hellbeasts, they are.”

  “I see.” Well, at least she wasn’t crazy, and the draw to the horse must have been an extension of its connection with an angel. A chill racked her as the winter wind kicked up again, tossing her hair into a halo around her head. She threaded her arms through his and tried to yank him up, but he refused to budge. “Jerry, please come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You just lean forward a bit, I’ll pull you up, and we’ll be through the doors in no time.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I can’t,” he insisted. She fixed her curiosity on him, and he had the good will enough not to shun it. “I want to tell you something, but it’s a secret. You can’t tell Dee, and you especially can’t tell Ramiel.”

  “Is this our Dr. Phil moment?” Her tone was light, but nerves colored it with uncertainty.

  “I’m being serious. Riona, do you promise?”

  Jerry sighed, pulling her hands into his. He closed his eyes and went silent. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on his lips, waiting for some devastating truth to tumble out. So fixed was she, in fact, that it took her a moment to register the heat collecting on her fingertips, spreading up her arms and into her chest. When she broadened her field of vision she saw his secret dancing all about them.

  Jerry’s eyes shot up, his look the oddest combination of utter regret and a need for acceptance.

  “You’re burning hellfire,” Riona muttered. He gave her assertion an acknowledging bob of his head. “But I thought only the damned could wield hellfire.”

  “So did I,” Jerry said achingly. “Riona, I’m a good man, or at least I’m trying to be. Don’t doubt that. But … I don’t know. I can still feel Hell burning in my veins. I reach for heavenlight, but there’s still this darkness within me, a temptation to corrupt, to consume. There’s part of me still in touch with my inner demons, and when he saw you tonight with another man. God help me, I wanted to stab him with an ice pick before dragging you to a corner to reclaim you against the nearest available wall.”

  She wasn’t quite sure when her breath had hitched, or when she’d started biting her bottom lip. “You did get rid of him, and you successfully kept yourself from going all caveman.”

  Before she could realize what he was doing, Jerry had leaned into her, taking in the scent of her hair, putting his lips to the edge of her ear as he spoke. “But there are so many corners in that house. And two big, inviting beds.” As though he himself suddenly became aware of his proximity, Jerry shrunk back, shame-faced. “That’s why I can’t come in now … The Hellfire won’t let me go. It wants me to take you. And Ramiel’s protection charm knows it. I have to cool off before I can cross inside.”

  The realization hit her. “This has happened before.”

  A nod from the ex-demon confirmed it. “Not as bad, not as intense, but yes.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She stood and offered a hand out to him. “I won’t tell anyone, but it’s cold and I can’t leave you out here alone. Get your ass inside.”

  He looked at her hand with tender eyes before taking it and rising to his feet. He tried walking up the stoop with her. Two steps in, Jerry bounced backward as good as if he’d been shoved by a bouncer.

  “Not ready,” he chuckled, balling fists that he tried unsuccessfully to hide under his jacket.

  She lumbered back down a step. “Well, there’s got to be a trick to it. What works?”

  “Works?”

  “Yeah, centers you. Cleanses your chi. Whatever the hell you want to call it.”

  He shrugged. “Usually thinking about something that reminds me I’m human, thinking about people I cared about when I was alive, stuff like that. But I’ve never been this riled up before. It’s not working.”

  “Definition of insanity, et cetera,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Try something different then. What else can we think of that would align your soul with the light?”

  “I suspect something that might work, but …” His words trailed o
ff as his cheeks went from air-crisped white to crimson.

  “But nothing. You’ve forgotten the thrill of being human: trying stuff you’re destined to fuck up. Just do it. So, what is it?”

  Jerry looked at her uncertainly, unmoving. Then, in a desperate, needful attack, he anchored his arms on hers and pulled her down to him, covering her mouth with his.

  Impish voices in her head told her to pull back, but her head wasn’t exactly the part of her body in charge at the moment. As Jerry’s lips worked over hers, as his scent filled her senses, she felt her heart turning and heard herself moan. She had kissed Marc before, however wrong it had been, and would have expected the experience to be similar now. After all, it might be Jerry’s soul, but there was no physical difference in the mouth on hers. She had never been more wrong. Jerry’s kiss demolished her will.

  Clouds of condensation formed between them when at last he pulled back far enough to touch his forehead to hers. Panting, his voice was raspy, sharp. “I’m sorry, it was an impulse. I didn’t mean to …”

  “You’re … feeling … human, I guess,” Riona gasped.

  Jerry smiled against her mouth. “Actually, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this much of a man.”

  She pulled back in full without tripping, though barely, to the front door. “And can you cross the barrier now?”

  The next moment, she was sorry she’d asked. He consumed the remaining distance with two paced steps, reminding her of a lion moments before it leapt towards its prey. Without touching her, he came, his hands on the door at the level of her eyes, framing her on each side.

  Jerry began to lower his head again, his eyes focused on her lips. “And so you save me again.”

  Wildly, Riona shook her head. “Jer, don’t. I … I won’t hold that against you, but I can’t. I … I still love Marc.”

  With a dark laugh, he glanced down at the Marc-suit that was his corpse du jour. “It’s not like we haven’t role-played before,” he said before looking back up at her. “Or did you not enjoy kissing me again? Those swollen lips and the way you moaned into me suggests otherwise.”