Edge of Heaven

by Rhiannon Leith

  The flames flickered away to reveal a young man in jeans and a classic Rolling Stones T-shirt. His shaggy hair hung down over ageless blue eyes.

  “And in the flesh. I’m honoured.” If the sarcasm registered, the angel before him gave no sign of it.

  “I still prefer Enoch,” he said, his voice like ethereal music. “Despite the elevated title.” He grinned, but when Micah gave no answering smile, the expression faded. “I’ve come to take you home, Micah.”

  After so long? Denial and suspicion warred with the surge of mindless delight. Enoch was the closest thing he had to a friend among the Holy Court, and even he regarded Micah as some kind of outcast. There was only one reason they would bring him back now. “She knows I’m an angel?”

  “Yes. So it’s time to leave, before you endanger yourself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re too close to her. And she’s lost to us.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  Enoch crossed to the bookshelf, trailing his hand along the colourful spines of the paperbacks. He paused at a picture of Lily smiling in a ray of sunlight and then he sighed.

  “A loss. A great loss. But no need for you to be dragged down with her.” He turned around, holding his hands out to the angel. “So, are you ready to go?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Micah stood where he was, rooted to the spot. “I can’t leave her, Enoch. Not now.”

  “But she’s gone, Micah. The demon has her. She went willingly, knowing what he is, what you are. Contrary to popular opinion in Heaven, our mortal charges figure it out in the end. It’s their doom. Every step is inevitable now. Just like every time before. The same thing all over again. We’ve lost a light and that is a tragedy, but—”

  “No!”

  Enoch evanesced, shimmering like a heat haze and vanishing, only to reappear right in front of Micah, face-to-face.

  “You should reconsider,” he said. “Patience is divine, but unlike us, not eternal.”

  Struggling to control a most unangelic surge of anger, Micah swallowed hard. Enoch’s body shimmered with light, with joy made flesh. He was an angel, one of the highest of angels, scribe of the Holy Court, spokesman for the Creator Himself.

  And he stood uncomfortably close.

  “I can help her,” Micah said in a faint voice. “I know I can help her. We can’t just give up.”

  Enoch frowned, reaching out to stroke a finger along the line of Micah’s cheekbone. His skin shivered in its wake, static sparking between them. The surge of pleasure was unmistakable.

  Micah closed his eyes and let his breath escape in a long, low hiss.

  “We love you, Micah,” said Enoch, though his voice was something greater all of a sudden, rippling through the air, filled with the power of roaring wave and grinding earth, shimmering against his skin like heat. “We feel so close to losing you. And that causes us to fear, for your loss would grieve us greatly.”

  “But I can’t just let her go.”

  “And we cannot just let you go. Especially not to follow her path.”

  Micah dropped to his knees, bowing his head. “Please, Abba. Please.”

  Enoch’s hands were warm as sunlight on Micah’s hair, his fingers treading the strands. He sighed and suddenly Enoch’s voice was his own once more, that other presence departed.

  “Very well. But be careful, Micah. Please be careful. You’re very close to the edge. One misstep and you too could fall. One step too close to this woman, and she will drag you down with her.”

  Micah lifted his face to see the eternal sorrow in Enoch’s expression. “No. Not Lily.”

  Enoch rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “She’s special, Micah, but she is just a mortal.”

  “There’s no such thing as just a mortal. And yes, she is special. You have no idea.”

  “But I do.” Enoch gripped his hands and pulled him to his feet. “You can only have a week to save her or let her go. No more than that.”

  “A week? But this is the work of a lifetime.”

  “Yes,” Enoch said. “A week.” Fire roared from his feet to his head and he vanished, as if he had never been there.

  Micah stood alone in Lily’s home, staring at an empty space where the other angel had been.

  “Enoch? What does that mean?” he shouted, but there was no answer.

  Lily’s key scratched around the lock before it slid in. The door squeaked, high-pitched and grating to the ears. Micah listened to her stumble in, exhausted and smelling of Sammael, of pure and unadulterated sated lust. Tears sprang like needles in his eyes. Nonetheless, he watched her, every movement until she curled up in her bed alone and sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Once he was certain she would not sense him, would not feel his presence as she always did, he sat by her side and stroked her hair.

  Why only a week? What was going to happen in a week?

  He could guess the answer. And that chilled him more than he could possibly say.

  “Mother of God!” Cassini yelled, his voice sounding outraged and disgusted even muffed by the distance to the hall outside. “What sort of person does these things?”

  Lily struggled to wakefulness, her body protesting with the dull tired ache of too much sex. Too much? God, was there such a state? It had been mind blowing. And more, the dominance, the promises, the intent. Had Sam really meant it? That he wanted Micah too? Her angel and her demon, both of them… It sounded so wrong, so deliciously wrong, that for a moment her mind was consumed. A spike of desire shot through her, followed by a languid heat.

  Cassini continued to curse in rapid Italian outside, so she pulled on her robe and went to the door. Opening it, she saw him bent over right outside, a cloth pressed to his face.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Then the smell hit her. Stale milk. Not just stale, rancid. Her stomach flipped and her throat closed convulsively.

  Cartons of milk had been left in a pile outside her door. Milk congealed on the floor, globs of it clinging to the carpet.

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed and flung her hand over her mouth.

  “Go back in, Lily. When I find the bastardo who did this, I’ll—”

  Sam’s door opened and he poked his head outside. Damn him, even half asleep and assaulted by this stench he looked hot. “What’s going on?”

  “Sour milk. Another gift.” Lily’s humour drained away as she saw what was under the pile of cartons.

  “Madonna,” said Cassini. “I’ll call the cops. Go back inside, Lily.”

  A picture of Rachel lay underneath, the milk curds clinging to her face. Not Rachel as she had been alive, a starlet in the making. Her skin looked cold and grey, her lips blue. Her wet hair clung to the side of her face. This was Rachel’s corpse after it had been recovered from the docks.

  The world lurched around Lily, speckles of light dancing right in front of her eyes. Her stomach buoyed up through her while the rest of her body fell away. Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. As her vision cleared, she saw Sam holding her, cradling her against him.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly, “I’ve got you.”

  “It’s from him, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.” He nodded to Cassini, who was eyeing them with a concerned expression. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of her. Just call the cops.” Sam kicked her door closed behind him and set her down on the sofa. The same sofa where he had—

  Oh God! Lily’s mind balked at the thought of what they had done now. There was a killer pursuing her, sending his sick little messages, taking the lives of others, and all she could think about was sex—sex with a demon and sex with an angel. All she could think about was the way her body responded to them both.

  Sam opened the window wide. The breeze caught the light curtain, setting it billowing inside.

  “Where’s Micah?” he asked, his voice darkened now they were alone.

  Lily reached out with her mind, but the
re was no apparent sign of her guardian. “I don’t know. Will I call him?”

  “Seems like a good idea. That was left for you, wasn’t it?”

  Was it? Well, for who else? Rachel’s killer had his sights on her now. Lily wondered where Todd Lane was, what was happening to him? Her whole body went cold, from the inside out.

  “Micah?” she whispered. “Micah, please, I know you’re angry, but I need you.”

  His presence fell around her like a sheltering cloak the very instant she called. “I’m here.”

  He didn’t sound angry. More sad. Heartbroken. Lily bit the tender skin of her lower lip. She’d broken his heart.

  “Where do you go when you aren’t with me?” she asked tentatively.

  “Not far. There are just some things in your life that I don’t need to see.”

  She had always considered it that he allowed her some privacy, a personal life. She had never imagined it was because he couldn’t bear to see her with another man. Now it was suddenly clear. She glanced at Sam. Was it him? Did his presence make her guardian so transparent to her?

  “What did he say?” Sam asked, suspicion narrowing his dark eyes.

  “He knows damn well what I said,” Micah spat. “He only has to listen.”

  Lily gaped at the air before her, wishing she could see him. She’d never heard such venom in Micah’s voice.

  “He’s upset, Sam. That’s all. Worried.”

  “About your being with me or the new gift from your stalker?”

  “The what?”

  Lily told Micah quickly, ignoring Sam’s attempted barbs. She felt his anger lessen, but not depart. It simmered, beneath the surface. She’d never experienced anything like it. Calm, considerate, her rock to cling to, Micah had never, ever shown anger before Sam had arrived. She tried to probe closer with her mind but felt him immediately withdraw, like some kind of exotic flower, curling in on itself at the first sign of intrusion.

  “Cassini’s calling the cops,” Sam said, his words sharp and succinct, like a soldier giving a report. He stiffened, his eyes suddenly distant. Were they talking to each other? Was that even possible? Sam glanced at her and his face hardened.

  “Whatever you two have to say, I want to know,” she growled suddenly. She didn’t even know where the commanding tone came from.

  Sam’s mouth fell open. Then he smiled. “That does seem fair,” he conceded. “Look, how about a coffee and then we can all discuss it?” The sudden softness didn’t fool her. Even as she nodded, his face went hard again.

  “Yes, fair,” said Micah. “Forgive me, my bright one. That was rude.” His invisible hands touched her shoulders, massaging away the knots of tension. She wished he’d just make himself visible to her. Sam assured her he could.

  And now they were both lying to her. In an effort to protect her, it seemed, but a lie was a lie.

  She hung her head, letting his touch work magic on her tense body. “What did he say to you, Micah?”

  “Just exchanging information. It is quicker than forming words.”

  “What? You just step into each other’s minds?” Like Sam did to hers last night. And for a moment her body trembled with desire. For a moment she imagined them both doing it, both of them within her and around her, together.

  Heat flared up the length of her back and her core melted with pleasure. It throbbed with her pulse. From behind her, she heard a sound, a gasp that was almost a moan.

  “Micah?” She hardly dared to move.

  “He’s still with you,” said Sam. “You startled him. That’s all.” He knelt in front of her and took her hands. Searching her eyes with his, he smiled, a genuine one this time. “Your physical reaction to his touch. Not your thoughts.”

  “Did you see my—?” She flushed red as embarrassment swept through her. Sam would want to do it. Sam would do anything, given half an opportunity. And she had promised… But, oh God, if he could see into her mind…

  “No.” He laughed. “Neither of us can. Not unless you want us to.”

  His words licked up her body and she leaned back, feeling Micah’s strong support.

  “He’s tempting you, Lily. Stay strong, my bright one.”

  Oh Micah, she thought, keeping it locked deep inside her mind. Not just me, my love. And God help me, I’m his ally in this seduction.

  “I need to get dressed.” She forced herself to her feet. Sam stayed where he was, running a palm down her calf, and behind her she felt another wave of mistrust and anger from Micah.

  Sam felt it too. How could he fail to?

  “Get a grip, Mike,” he sneered.

  Leaving them to it, Lily went to get dressed.

  “One week?” Sam asked mind to mind. “They told you one week too?”

  The angel looked impossibly flustered. It made him seem vulnerable for the first time since Sam had laid eyes on him. And all the more attractive for it. The thought made Sam smile, but Micah pushed by him. Sunlight touched his hair, making it gleam like old gold.

  “One week. That was all I was allowed. They think you’ve won.”

  Sam sat back on the sofa, folding his arms. “I have. Didn’t you notice your girl didn’t come home last night?”

  Micah turned on him, his eyes blazing with indignation. “They gave me more time. So it isn’t over.”

  “Please, there’s only one way you’ll win her back now, and you won’t risk that. So your week is worthless.” The time frame gave him pause again. One week. That was too precise. From both courts. “What’s going to happen in one week?”

  The light died in the angel’s perfectly chiselled face. He closed his eyes and pain rippled over his features, draining them of life. He looked like one of Michelangelo’s sculptures, tortured and lost. “I think she’s going to die.”

  “Well screw that,” said Sam out loud, so startled by the revelation that he couldn’t help himself. Screw that indeed, but how was he going to stop it if both Heaven and Hell believed it to be inevitable.

  Chapter Eight

  The smartly dressed woman who came to the door introduced herself as D.I. Reid. Her team worked almost silently on the mess in the hall, while she spoke in a calm, confident voice about what they knew so far.

  Lily listened to a frighteningly short speech, which had been crafted to put her mind at ease and practiced once too often.

  “We’ll have a uniformed officer outside the building at all times and three surveillance personnel backing them up. I’m on constant call. Really, there’s no need to worry.”

  Sam gripped Lily’s hand a little tighter. “And was there any reason for Rachel to worry?” he asked in a tight voice. “No one is coming near Lily. I can promise you that.”

  Reid regarded him placidly, with eyes that betrayed a lot more going on behind her cool exterior. “Yes, Mr. Mayell. I understand your concern. Please understand we are doing everything within our power to bring this man to justice.”

  “It’s definitely a man,” breathed Lily.

  “Yes, all the profiling indicates—”

  “No. That wasn’t a question. It’s a man. I rang your department several days ago to tell you what I saw. I left a message.”

  Reid frowned. “I wasn’t aware of that,” she said stiffly. “I’ll look into it as soon

  as—”

  “Great,” Sam growled, his antagonism even more apparent now. “You don’t even believe in psychic abilities and you’re heading up the investigation?”

  Reid stared him down. Lily revised her opinion rapidly. Whatever she was, Reid was both an expert at her job, and she believed. “On the contrary, Mr. Mayell, I have the greatest respect for people like Lily. My brother was a psychic. And Lily helped me on a case not so long ago.”

  That surprised Lily more than anything so far. “I did?”

  “Yes.” Reid smiled then. “You hadn’t moved then. You rang the local PD with a report of seeing a missing child. Didn’t they take you seriously?”

  Lily winced. Yes, she
remembered that. She remembered Sergeant Graham’s laughing response. I’m not calling on a special task force with some cock-and-bull story you’ve dreamed up this time, Lily. You’ve no business trying to interfere. Next you’ll be looking for money to perform your damned parlour tricks.

  She let out a long sigh and Reid hazarded a smile.

  “But he did report it. In his way. He mentioned it as a joke to one of my colleagues. They passed it on to me and I followed it up. Led me right to that little girl. I tried to contact you, but you’d already moved away.”

  Lily blushed, curling her fingers around Sam’s. She found it hard enough to dredge up her memories of those days, let alone talk about them. “Home became difficult, after that. People didn’t take kindly to my gift, or my interference. It seemed like a better idea to move here, to gain a bit of distance. And privacy.”

  Reid nodded in understanding. “I appreciate that, Lily, but if you can, will you help us here? He knows who you are and what you can do already. If you could help us to find Todd Lane? He’s killed two victims so far. I don’t want Todd to be number three. Or you to be number four.”

  “And what’s in it for her?” Sam asked, his voice unconvinced. His nerves caused his unfair hostility. His own sense of helplessness. Sam wanted to attack something, but there was nothing available. Nothing but Reid.

  Lily squeezed his hand again, like squeezing a stone, and he sat back, growling under his breath. Great. Just what she needed. An irate demon ready to attack the only person to take her seriously for years.

  “Hopefully, my life,” she said calmly. “Sam, could you go and get some coffee please? I’m sure we’d both appreciate it. Maybe you’d call Mike and let him know what’s happening. I’m sure he’s worried too. Tell him I’m fine and see what he thinks.”

  “Mike?” asked Reid.

  “An old friend,” Lily said confidently. “Let me describe what I saw the night Rachel was killed.”

  Once Sam was gone, Lily described her vision, the nightmare of Rachel’s death while Reid took detailed notes, her pen scratching on the page of a little notebook.

  Sam clattered and crashed his way around the kitchen, and she could hear him muttering, talking to Micah, she presumed, or venting his anger at being dismissed. That was going to be trouble later on, she could tell. When she sighed heavily, Reid cocked her head and smiled.