by Debra Dunbar
The laugh that came from Harper was short and sharp, full of bitterness. “At first I agreed, but now I know better. My friends were lucky. I should have died with them. A part of me did die that day. The only thing left when they airlifted me off that mountain was a shell of a woman.”
“But you saw him again.” It couldn’t have been a coincidence. This angel picked her, saved her then went on to have a very forbidden relationship with her. There was a part of me that wondered if he’d fallen in love with the girl he’d saved, if it was all innocent, but the demon in me knew better. We weren’t that different — angels and demons. There was a good chance he’d just taken advantage of the situation — or even caused it in some way.
Harper shook her head and continued. “I chalked the whole thing up to a hallucination, but at the hospital I saw him, as well as the week after I’d been released. Every day I’d catch sight of him walking past me on the street, getting a cup of coffee while I sat and drank mine, or eating at a nearby table.”
She paused in her shredding of the comforter and held her hands outward with a shrug. “I figured it was some kind of sign from my unconscious self, that he was truly my soul mate. We began talking, then dating. I never knew he was an angel, a real angel, until after we’d been together for a few months.”
I reached out and caught one of her restless hands in mine. “I’m sorry. Sorry he kept who he was from you, that he got you pregnant and dumped you off here. I’m sworn to take care of you and all you carry, but my primary concern is with you. What do you want? If you had the power to right the world, what would you envision your future to be?”
Harper clenched my hand tight, giving me a wobbly smile. “You’re not much of a demon, are you?”
Damn. Nyalla thinks I’m a ‘nice demon’, and this woman thinks I’m a lousy one. I seriously needed to step up my game.
“If I could go back in time, my friends would be alive. We’d plan other trips, laugh over memories. Then one day, maybe while skiing in Tahoe or rafting down the canyon, I’d meet a man. My heart would beat faster. The moon and stars would freeze as our eyes met, and we’d begin a future together.”
My own heart ached for her. “I can’t resurrect your friends, but there’s no reason why you can’t have the rest. Your life is far from over.”
The woman smiled, and this time her lips didn’t wobble. “Maybe. But for now, I want to have this baby. I want to be able to walk in the sunshine, buy maternity clothes and take pre–natal classes. I want to hold my son in my arms, to watch him grow, to see his first steps, his first day of Kindergarten, to hold him tight when he cries and soothe his fears. I want to watch him walk down the aisle for graduation, for his wedding. I want to spoil his children rotten. Somehow I think that fantasy is just as farfetched as the resurrection of my friends.”
This woman might be a lot of things but she wasn’t blind to the danger she and her child were in. “And what about the father? What place does he have in this future?”
Harper’s face twisted in fury. “Do you know what he wanted me to do? Do you know what he asked … no, commanded of me?”
I felt chilled. Angels considered babies and children free of sin, the highest in their vibration patterns. In spite of that, they still sentenced Nephilim to death. Had the father wanted her to abort the baby? I looked at Harper and shook my head. “What did he command of you?”
“To hide away, and when the baby was born to give it over to monsters to raise. Then I was to come back to him and resume our relationship. How could I do that? How could I ever love him again, knowing that he’d ripped our baby from my arms? How could he ever expect me to feel the same about him after that?”
She’d become increasingly agitated as she spoke, picking at the covers then tearing at her cuticles with her stubby nails. I reached out and captured both her hands in mind, scooting closer.
“How did you get pregnant? I mean… .” How the fuck was I supposed to ask this? I had no idea about angel reproduction. With demons, insemination was always intentional. With angels, I had no stinking clue.
Harper made a short choking noise. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t know. I was on the pill, and I’m very careful. No other medicine to interact, nothing. Maybe I’m just that zero, zero, zero, one percent.”
Or maybe this angel had his own agenda, which selfishly violated Harper’s trust.
“What did he do when he found out you were pregnant? Was he angry? Upset?”
She shook her head. “No, he seemed as if he knew already. He was kind of excited, but worried too. Right away, he said the baby needed to be safe, and that if I wanted it to live, I needed to give it away. Is that true? Was he lying to me?”
Shit. How to break this one to her? “It’s true. The angelic host takes a dim view on Nephilim — the offspring of angels and humans. They are condemned to death, and the angels involved in their breeding suffer punishment.”
Harper yanked her hands from mine and covered her mouth. Her body shook. “My son is as good as dead, isn’t he?” Her words were muffled.
“I’m sorry. He was a total shit — the angel that did this to you. I’ll do the best I can to protect you and your baby, but I don’t know if I can give you the future you want. Heck, I don’t know if I can promise your baby any future at all.”
She began crying in earnest, sobbing into her hands.
“Give me his name. Tell me who the father is, and I’ll make sure he suffers. I’m the Iblis, the Ha–Satan. I’m on the Ruling Council. I’ll see him punished for this, try to get him banished to Hel. Do you know what the demons would do to him there? It would be a fitting end for the shithead that did this to you.”
Harper shook her head violently and gasped, trying to get herself under control. “Ben Jackson. That’s the only name I knew him by, and somehow I doubt it was his angel name. I hate him. I hate what he’s done to me. I’d kill him with my own hands if I knew I could, but I’m not sure I can condemn the father of my child to Hel.”
Humans. Sometimes I just didn’t get them at all. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do to protect your son. In the meantime, pretend you’re on vacation. Relax by the pool; check out all the baby stuff online. Do you ride horses? Piper is really sweet. You could safely ride him. Or I could install some climbing handholds on the side of the barn.”
I felt so helpless. Nothing I could do would make this right. Nothing would guarantee her baby’s safety. All my suggestions were just a desperate attempt to distract her from the grim future ahead.
“Thanks.” Harper gave me a watery smile. “You’re not so bad — for a demon, that is. Nyalla is nice, too. She offered to have her friend come over with her baby, to make me feel more like this was all normal.”
Ugh. More baby smell. I’d hoped to put that off for at least another few months.
“That’s a great idea.” I forced a smile. “Nyalla has already been decorating the other room for the nursery. She’s a very good friend to have.”
–7–
Late night wasn’t quite what I’d expected. Gregory sat beside me, thumbing through my reports — not exactly the most romantic of activities, but given our other company, it was probably the most I could expect for tonight. Hot wings had been a bit of a bust, and I was suspecting my angel might have vegetarian tendencies. We’d returned to the safety of food groups I knew he was more inclined to enjoy.
Harper sat as far away from the angel as possible, trying to look relaxed as she shot him sideways glances. Her expression fluctuated between anxious and fascinated. Nyalla was on the other couch, as equally entertained by the Three’s Company rerun as she was Gregory’s strange obsession with snack foods.
“How about Skittles? Have you tried them yet? Or are you more of a chocolate kind of person … um, angel?”
“I have not had Skittles, or chocolate, but I have discovered that I enjoy Jolly Rancher candies. The watermelon flavor in particular.”
Harper pursed her lips. “Cherry. An
d green apple. I’m a Jolly Rancher kinda gal myself.”
I smiled to see her making an effort to join the conversation. “The best thing about Jolly Ranchers is the way they cement your teeth together. Just chomp down hard, and you won’t be able to open your mouth without a crowbar. If you’ve got fillings in your teeth, expect them to come out.”
“I have not tried that particular technique, Cockroach.” Gregory’s voice drawled. His eyes sparkled with humor as he paged through my report. “I will have to try that with the cherry and green apple. And try this chocolate, too.”
I made a mental note and vowed to pull together a selection of chocolates for an angelic taste test. This was fun, introducing Gregory to food and drink. I hoped it led to all sorts of other sins.
“Why does the Roper woman persist in sexual overtures toward her husband when he is clearly not interested?” He frowned down at one of my reports. I was amazed he even knew what was happening on the show since he hadn’t looked up more than once in the last fifteen minutes.
I nodded. “I know. She needs to ditch him and fuck Jack instead. Or get a really good vibrator. Stanley is an ass anyway.”
Harper snorted. “Jack? Yuck. I’d pick the vibrator over him any day.”
Nyalla shook her head. “Although I suspect Mrs. Roper would welcome sexual relations with either Jack or a battery–powered device; she does want her husband. She’s trying to connect with him. Even though their relationship is flawed, she offers sex as a way to prove that, deep down, they still love each other. He acts as if he dislikes it, but Mr. Roper still grants her requests for sex. He, too, needs that connection.”
Great. My girl was turning into some kind of Dr. Phil. “Nah. He’s too fugly to get anyone else in the sack. His wife is the only option available besides jerking off in the shower or paying a prostitute. Mr. Roper is too cheap to shell out for sex.”
“He’d have to pay big,” Harper commented. “I’d rather sleep with an angel. No offense.” She grinned at Gregory.
“None taken.”
I was beginning to like this girl. She had mad pillow–slaughtering knife skills and didn’t seem to have any problems with vibrators. I wondered if she was putting Leethu’s stash of toys to good use.
“The pair of them would be better off remaining abstinent. Jack, and those two young women, too.” Gregory turned another page and frowned. “Who completed these reports, Cockroach? The attachments are very odd, and I don’t understand much of the terminology.”
“Oh, I did them,” I lied. “Do you think your brothers and the other ass–wipes will finally get off my back, or am I going to have to go back to jail again?”
Gregory took a deep breath and tossed the heavy stack of papers onto my lap. “Redo the impact analysis. It’s weak. The rest will have to do. Just pray that the events in Aaru take enough attention that no one really reads this thing.”
***
They did read the thing. Out loud.
“Joseph Barakel seems to have had a lengthy medical history of cardiac weakness.” Raphael stabbed a finger at the relevant page. “I appreciate that you’ve included chemical formulas for his prescriptive medicines.”
I had no idea how Wyatt had managed to get copies of the guy’s medical records, including doctors’ notes, but I owed him far more than steak and lobster for this one.
“Quite the list of homeowners’ association violations too. Lawn above prescribed height, unauthorized tree removal, fence the incorrect style for neighborhood aesthetics — oh my.”
I nodded at New Guy, sending yet another silent thanks to Wyatt.
“Yes. That plays into the impact analysis. The neighbors were quite relieved at his passing and are happy with the new townhouse owner.” I’d come to realize that with angels, the more obscure, detailed shit you gave them, the better. Of course, I’d made up the whole impact analysis, but hopefully, with Wyatt’s three–hundred pages of computer printouts, no one would notice.
“I vote we accept the report, in spite of the tardiness of its presentation, and conclude that this human’s death was not due to the purely coincidental presence of the Iblis.” Raphael gave me a quick wink as he finished. Hmmm. Little brother was a bit of a flirt. Nice to know the angels weren’t all such prudes.
“All in favor?”
Even Gabriel raised his hand. I was shocked speechless. Wyatt needed to do my homework more often.
“And now onto Tyrone Cochran.” Gabriel motioned, and everyone shuffled papers around to the appropriate stack. I also paged through them, wondering what Wyatt had found out about the drug dealer who’d attacked me in a back alley.
There were some murmurs of conversation amid the flurry of mind–speech. I couldn’t follow any of it. Finally they all looked up at me. I held my breath.
“What is this FICO number? It seems to be quite relevant to this particular report.”
I stared blankly at Gabriel, my brain frantically trying to assemble an explanation that would make sense to a bunch of angels. “Umm, it’s used by a large number of human financial institutions to evaluate an individual’s credit worthiness and risk.”
The angels stared blankly at me.
“Does this have any relation to the Burrito Scale of Immense Magnitude?” Raphael shook his head, clearly befuddled by the concept of human monetary lending.
“No. Humans work as a giant community. They borrow, and groups who have superior resources lend. Those who lend need to have a system to determine who is worthy. There is a company that has put together a mathematical analysis of a human’s status as a borrower. This FICO number represents that.”
“Their worth?” A glimmer of recognition lit Gabriel’s eyes. “So this number is a symbol of their vibration level? Humans strive for a higher number, a more worthy state of being?”
“Yeah.”
Close enough. Besides, I had a bad feeling if I began discussing interest rates and foreclosures, at least one of these angels was going to start overturning the tables of the money changers and the benches of those who sold doves.
Sleazy just about wet himself with excitement. “I had no idea the humans had advanced so far as to evaluate each other by vibration level.”
New Guy tapped his paperwork. “Tyrone Cochran’s FICO number is 480. What vibration level does that equate to?”
I had no fucking idea. “Bottom of the barrel. Think: cane toad.”
Raphael’s eyebrows practically hit the roof. “Isn’t that the animal that tries to mate with their dead females and the corpses of other species?”
“Yeah, although I have no proof that Tyrone Cochran was practicing necrophilia. I meant that simply as a comparison of vibration level.”
The angels gave a collective shudder and paged further through the report.
“And what does ‘judgment of default’ mean?” Raphael held a sheet of paper up, squinting at it.
Again, I thought it best to keep the notion of money and lending out of the conversation. “He made a promise to someone and refused to uphold it.”
New Guy looked aghast. “He broke a vow? Even demons do not do such things.”
This whole meeting was totally looking up. “Yep. Deplorable behavior. And as you can see, his impact analysis didn’t reveal anything significant.”
That’s where the burrito scale came in. It was all bullshit, but, thankfully, the angels were too busy with rapid mind–speech over the debt judgment and FICO score to notice.
“All in favor?” Gabriel announced as everyone, including my own angel, raised their hand.
“Wait. What are we voting on? All in favor of what?”
Gregory stepped firmly on my foot, and I bit my tongue. Whatever the hell was going on, I trusted him. Kind of. He might be dipping his toes in the waters of sin, but I doubted he would dive under unless I was in mortal danger.
“Then it’s unanimous,” Gabriel said with a smug smile.
“How the fuck can anything be unanimous when I didn’t vote? And
what were we voting on anyway?”
“The humans clearly are striving for higher vibration levels. You, as the most knowledgeable among us on human practices, are in an excellent position to ensure their salvation. So you are now responsible for any human with a FICO score of less than five hundred and eighty. The goal will be to raise the overall average score to seven hundred within the next century.”
What. The. Fuck. “No problem. I’ll just kill everyone with a score of less than seven hundred, and we’ll achieve our goal in record time. I might need to bring over a–few–hundred demons to assist me, but we’ll get it done before the weekend.”
“That’s a lot of four–nine–five reports, little Cockroach.” Gregory had a smirk on his face that I wasn’t trusting one bit.
“I’m not the right person to head up this committee, or project, or whatever the fuck it is. I don’t give a damn about vibration levels. Look at me — I’m an imp. My vibration level is in the shitter. I think anything over a six–hundred FICO score is a waste of time.”
A few of the angels seemed to seriously consider my statement. The rapid–paced mind–speech returned, and I struggled to keep up.
Imp.
Iblis.
Angel.
Erratic and unreliable.
Limited resources.
Time consuming issues in Aaru.
I finally gave up, assuming they’d communicate whatever their thoughts were once they were finished discussing. It took a while — long enough for me to refill my coffee and poke at the over–ripe strawberries and cantaloupe the hotel staff had set out for us.
“We’ve discussed and decided that you make a valid point.” Gregory’s mouth twitched at the edges as he said this. I totally needed to get him alone after the meeting and find out what had really gone on. “Still, you are clearly the most knowledgeable when it comes to humans. We’ve temporarily assigned you to rehabilitate the humans and raise their vibration levels. You’re also assigned the Fallen ones — the lost causes that we have no hope of turning around. That assignment is a permanent one.”