by Debra Dunbar
“It’s complicated. Gregory is trying to do something about this, but the long–term solution isn’t one that the angels are going to adopt overnight. In the meantime, she’s got a death sentence over her head, or maybe just the baby’s head. I haven’t read those particular articles or sections, or whatever, yet.”
“They’d kill her?” Wyatt thundered. “One of their own broke the rules. Why don’t they kill him instead?”
I finished my lobster and drank the remaining butter right from the little round ceramic ramekin. “My sentiments exactly. But in the meantime, I’m not really sure what to do with this woman, or the baby once it arrives. I’ve got no idea how to take care of human infants, let alone a half–angel one.”
“I’m sure the mother will do the majority of the caretaking.” Wyatt hesitated, wine glass halfway to his lips. “Wait. How did you get in the middle of this mess? I can’t imagine what would have caused an angel to think that you’d be a suitable protector for a pregnant woman.”
I should have been insulted, but Wyatt was right. “I kinda got tricked into it. And I don’t think the angel knew where else to turn.”
Wyatt frowned thoughtfully. “Where do the other angels hide their Nephilim? I mean, it’s not like this has been the only one, and from what you’ve told me, the angels haven’t been able to catch them all. Where are these half–angels? And who is hiding them?”
He had a point. I’d been too busy with my punishment and the pissed–off pregnant woman living in my house to give much thought to the bigger picture. “I’m assuming some group of angels hides them. Maybe they turned him down? He’s a bit of an asshole, and the mother of his child has some rather violent tendencies.”
“Could be. Still, I think you should try and find out how the other Nephilim are escaping notice. No offense, Sam, but this woman and her baby are bound to be safer there than in your house with demons running around all over the place.”
And Hunter angels on my doorstep the moment the thing popped out of its mother. Trust Wyatt to point me in the right direction, even if he didn’t always approve of my methods. We finished dinner and headed home as I dreamed of one last night in Wyatt’s arms before he headed off for a month or more. I wasn’t completely surprised when he stopped in front of my door and kissed my forehead, giving me a brief hug.
“Got an early flight tomorrow,” he said apologetically. “Call me and let me know how things are going?”
An early flight had never kept him from my bed before. I tried to keep my smile bright as I reached up to kiss his cheek. “Text me and let me know you’ve landed safely, okay?”
“Okay.”
Wyatt jogged off toward his house, the fading light glinting off his blond hair. I watched him go, knowing that the sun wasn’t the only thing setting right now.
–6–
Nyalla was sitting at my dining room table with my laptop open before her.
“I hope I’m not cramping your style,” she said with a sheepish smile. “You and Wyatt never seem to have time together anymore. I can take this upstairs if you all want to watch TV or … something.”
I looked down at Wyatt’s sister and stroked her dark blond hair. “Nah. You stay here. Your brother headed back to his house for the night.”
I tried to keep my voice casual, but Nyalla wasn’t fooled. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t be.” There were more types of love than stars in the sky. I’d always love Wyatt, but our feelings had shifted and morphed with time. So different then the feelings I had for Gregory — the kind that bound two people together for eternity, even beyond death.
Nyalla tilted her head and looked up at me with a little smile. “I like that angel of yours. He’s scary, but I like him.”
“Me too.” I thought about Gregory, and something deep inside me warmed. I more than liked him.
The girl looked up from the computer screen again, her expression turning wistful.
“I wish I could find someone I felt that way about.”
She was only twenty–one. I was glad things hadn’t worked out with the cop or that guy at the beach. Nyalla was far too young to be diving headfirst into that crazy marriage–and–kids thing humans seemed so eager to do.
“Patience, Nyalla,” I told her, sounding ridiculously like Gregory. Wincing at the uncomfortable similarity, I looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Looking for another vacation destination?”
“Dating site.”
I leaned closer. Maybe I could get some ideas for Infernal Mates. Couldn’t be that different — matching up demons and angels based on mutual interests. Although finding mutual interests might be more difficult than it sounded.
Nyalla clicked a few buttons and an array of photos popped up on the screen. Attractive young men in a startling state of undress scrolled across the page. “I’m not having the best of luck.”
“Hmmm.” Michelle had filled me in on the trials of attempting to find a life–mate over the internet. From her hair–raising stories, it seems humans were far better liars than I was. “How about this one? He looks cute.”
He did. Washboard abs, and the boxers slipping low off his hips were a nice touch. I’d do him.
“I know! We emailed a few times and exchanged some pictures, but now he won’t talk to me. He’s blocked me.”
She said the last with a hurt voice. Asshole. How dare he do that to Nyalla? What was there not to like about my precious human girl?
“See? He sent me this picture of his genitals, claiming that he was hung like a horse.”
I looked at the picture. Not the most flattering lighting in the world, but selfies weren’t exactly easy on the eye. From what I could see, the dude had a good–looking cock, in my opinion.
“As well–endowed as he appears to be, clearly he’s never seen a horse before. I mean, there’s no comparison there. So I sent him this picture in return.”
I choked back a laugh. There was a picture of a horse’s lower region, the animal’s member fully extended and erect. Nyalla had captioned it with some precise measurements.
“How in the world did you get Diablo to do that for a picture?” Yes, I recognized my horse, although I’d never been up close and personal with his dick.
“I asked him. He’s a very nice horse. And the internet had all sorts of information regarding size and girth of animal reproductive organs.”
I was just glad she hadn’t taken a measuring tape to Diablo. “So, I’m guessing this sexy, young man felt intimidated by what he perceived was some equine competition?”
Nyalla’s shoulders slumped. “He called me a freak. Then he blocked me.”
I bent down and gave her a hug. “Pretty harsh coming from a guy whose second email to you included a cock shot.”
She turned to me, her blue eyes clouded with worry. “I am a freak. I’m trying, but I just don’t fit in here with the rest of the humans.”
“Look at who you’re talking to.” I tugged a lock of her long hair and grinned. “A demon pretending to be a human. Then there’s Candy — a werewolf who hides who she is from the humans, and your stepsister, Amber. Heck, even humans have secrets they only tell the few they truly trust. You’ll find someone, Nyalla. In the meantime, have fun. Surf. Scuba dive. Have sex with lots of boys — but don’t get pregnant.” I added the last with a note of panic in my voice. Damned humans reproduced like rabbits.
She smiled. “That reminds me. I don’t think Harper is doing too well.”
What now? That crazy human would be the death of me. Had she fallen from the barn rafters and landed on her head? Gotten kicked by one of the horses? Injured herself in another violent tantrum with the shovel? Now I was even more panicked. I still sucked at healing anyone but demons. Did human doctors make house calls anymore? Was it safe for her to leave the premises and go to prenatal appointments? What the fuck was I supposed to do?
“No, no,” Nyalla reassured me. “The baby’s fine. Her physical health is fine. She’s just s
o angry.”
“Tell me about it.” The woman had been angry since the first moment I’d laid eyes on her. I doubted that situation was going to change any time in the near future.
“She feels abandoned, and friendless. She’s been deceived and doesn’t know who to trust anymore.”
Well, that wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the one who fucked an angel — no, wait; I did fuck an angel, although we hadn’t gotten around to the physical kind of fucking yet. Damn it all.
“Should I go talk to her? Do you think it would help?” I hoped not. I hoped she’d just stay in her room, or that she and the baby would somehow magically disappear.
“Please?” Nyalla’s face radiated happiness. How could I say ‘no’ to that face? “I told her that you had an angel you were in love with, and that they weren’t all jerks like hers had been. I told her that you were really nice for a demon. I think she’d be a lot less worried about her future if she knew she could trust you, that you’d truly protect her.”
How did I become the ‘nice demon’ that people could trust to protect them? I needed to do something about this — clearly my reputation was in danger of becoming squeaky clean. Maybe I could head out after midnight and key some cars, or spray–paint lewd drawings on the side of police cruisers.
I climbed the stairs, dread in every step, then knocked on Harper’s door. There was no response, so I peeked in to see her sitting against the headboard of her bed, clutching a knife in one hand as she stabbed a pillow. At this rate, I wouldn’t have a single home furnishing intact by the time the baby was born.
I figured the answer to a request to come in would be ‘no’, so I stepped over the thick line of salt and sat as far from her as I could on the edge of the bed.
“Everything okay? Do you need anything weird, like pickle–flavored ice cream? Deep–fried Spam? Chocolate–covered crickets?”
What the heck was I supposed to say to a pregnant woman who was brandishing a knife and had lined her room in twenty pounds of my expensive sea salt?
“No. I’m fine.”
“That doesn’t look like fine.” I gestured toward the pillow. “Look, I know you’re pissed off at that piece–of–shit baby–daddy, but try not to take it out on me or my pillows. I haven’t done anything but take you into my home, provide you sanctuary, and buy you toiletries.”
And take her shoes, but that was beside the point.
“You were tricked into it. I’ve been told about demons. I know what you’d do to me if you hadn’t vowed to protect me.”
I sighed, thinking she was the only one who considered me anything besides a ‘nice’ demon. “Yeah, well I have vowed to protect you. Something I’m regretting right now as I watch you stab my bedding.”
Harper looked at the pillow, and something like shame flitted across her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve no right to take this out on you. Or your pillow.”
“Do you want to talk? I’m not human, and I’ve never created offspring, but I’ve spent a lot of time with angels in the past few years. We could get drunk and have a bitch session if you want to.”
Harper sat silent, looking first at me, then at the thick line of salt around her room. The knuckles of her knife–holding hand were white, and I noted her nails on the other hand had been chewed to the nub, cuticles raw and bleeding. A twinge of sympathy went through me, but there was nothing I could do for a woman who clearly wanted me, and everyone else, as far away from her as possible.
I sighed and stood to leave.
“Do you really have wings?”
I turned to look at her. She lowered the knife and nibbled on the edge of her finger.
“I mean real wings, not demons wings. Nyalla said you had wings.”
I revealed my massive wings. They began as a tracing of gold light before bursting into form, taking up the entire width of the room even though I had them folded partially closed. The whole time, I kept a close eye on Harper, making sure she didn’t freak out and lunge at me with the knife. I might be able to quickly fix a stab wound, but that didn’t mean I’d enjoy being sliced up.
“He … I only got to see his wings once, and that was by accident. I never got to see anything of him that he didn’t want me to see. I don’t think I ever really knew him. And now I know it didn’t matter to him at all. I didn’t matter to him at all. I was just a means to an end. A brood mare.”
I winced, contrasting her angel with Gregory. My angel knew who I was inside, loved all the ways we were different.
“There are assholes in every species. Don’t let your anger for him consume the rest of your life.”
I twitched my wings, anger of my own blooming as I thought about the asshole who had betrayed her trust. Harper’s eyes drifted to the black feathers, and her gaze softened.
“Can I touch them?”
“As long as you put the knife down.” I understood now why angels didn’t run around with their wings exposed. Shit, these things were sensitive.
The woman set the knife on the table and approached the far edge of my wing. Stretching her arm out, she gently ran the tips of her fingers over the feathers.
“How did this happen to you? I was told that demons had no wings beyond the foul ones their low vibration level allowed.”
I was really getting pissed at this angel baby–daddy. What a racist douche–bag.
“It’s a long story. An angel bound me, but it was sort of fucked up, and this was the end result. We were once all like this, you know. We weren’t always demons.”
She backed up, toward the bed, reaching behind her to grab the knife off the bedside table. “But you’re demons now. Some say even with the wings, you’re still a demon.”
“I think I’m something in between. Not demon enough for my brethren in Hel, and not angel enough for those in Aaru. Whatever. I can’t waste time worrying about it.”
Silence stretched on between us. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I leave?
Harper sat on the edge of the bed then seemed to come to some sort of decision. With a slow movement, she opened the drawer on the bedside table and slid the knife into it. “Nyalla says you are in love with an angel. That he loves you back.”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in my voice.
She closed the drawer and raised her hand to gnaw at her thumb. “I thought I was. I thought he loved me back.”
The words were a whisper, and her pain shone out of her dark brown eyes. I hid my wings and walked over to sit on the bed, keeping a few feet between us.
“How did you meet him?”
Harper looked down at her lap. “I grew up in Colorado. The wilderness was right outside; it was my backyard. I’d skied, backpacked, and climbed since I was able to walk. Those sort of activities are like riding a bike for the kids out there. By the time I was in college, I was doing big climbs with a group of friends. Mostly day or weekend trips, but after college we’d all save like crazy to do one big excursion each year.”
I sat with uncharacteristic patience as the woman plucked stray bits from the bedspread. Maybe I needed to get her some Xanax. Between her stabbing habit and this one, my bed covers were going to wind up looking like her fingernails.
“Last year my friends and I had saved enough to go on a sweet ice climb in Alaska. We did a couple of day climbs around Anchorage then hiked to Spencer Glacier for our big climb. It was an amazing trip — we took sea kayaks from basecamp to the ice edge, and then we headed up the ice walls. The glacier is fairly stable, but even so, there are crevasses, moulins, ice caves, and a mountain of snow above. Conditions change as the glacier moves, so even experienced climbers and guides need to be aware.”
She took a couple of deep breaths then clutched her hands tight in her lap. “Anyway, there was an avalanche. We didn’t just fall off the mountain; we fell with about five–hundred pounds of snow and ice. I don’t remember much — just waking up surrounded by blue and white, breathing in a tiny space that surrounded my head. I kept hoping my frie
nds were okay and that they’d find me, that help would arrive soon. The snow — it weighed so much, and I knew my legs were broken, maybe even my back. The space around me was so small that the oxygen wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours. I lay there, knowing I was as good as dead, and that only a miracle would save me.”
“Shit.” I might be a near immortal, but I could imagine her pain, and the fear and resignation that an inevitable death must have brought her.
“I was in and out for a while — no idea how long — then I saw a bright light. It took a while for my eyes to adjust, for me to realize that I was on top of the snow and ice. An angel stood over me. I don’t know how I knew he was an angel — I just did. I thought I’d died.”
I made a sympathetic noise. “When I first saw my angel, I thought I was going to die.”
Harper gave me a smile that transformed her face. I suddenly saw the lively, outdoorsy woman she’d been back then.
“Well, I wasn’t afraid. I was accepting. I hadn’t exactly led a blameless life up until then. I mean, I was pretty solid on the Ten Commandments, other than the occasional coveting of the neighbor’s BMW and the like. Still, I figured all that was the past, and I’d just need to accept whatever judgment came my way.”
None of that made any sense to me whatsoever. If some angel showed up and tried to judge me, I’d smack him upside the head with my sword. Or a Danish. Or maybe a plate of hot wings. Fucking prudes.
“He bent down and kissed me, and all the pain went away. I could feel my legs and back straighten. They tingled, felt warm. And then he was gone. I heard shouting, and a rescue crew airlifted me out. Everyone said it was a miracle because I had no injuries. My friends hadn’t been saved, though. Days later, their bodies were recovered, buried under twenty feet of snow and ice.”
“You were lucky.” I wondered why the angel had been there at exactly the right time, why he’d chosen her. The whole thing stank like a dead groundhog in the August sun.