Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2)

by haron Hamilton

  Josh saw how tormented the young angel was and knew Peter had done a good job there. He also knew Peter must have laced the pill with some Sexual Apricot, one of Josh’s favorite aphrodisiacs. Nice touch, you bastard. He had wanted to claim his new prize and have her primed and ready to go.

  “Did he show up?” Josh asked.

  “Don’t know. I sent her away. I never told her I was already feeling the influence of the pill. I made her leave, told her he was coming. That got to her. She was fucking scared out of her mind.” Felix hesitated. “She texted me when she got home. I hung on until I got that message. That was my last thought. I remember feeling good, just before the blackness. I felt like I finally did something I was proud of.” Felix took a long sigh and let the tears fall down his cheeks silently. Karl was mute as well.

  Josh was beginning to understand Peter’s issue with Felix. Peter was going for the girl. The virgin. He wanted to make her the virgin concubine of the Director of the Underworld. And Felix, stupid, clueless Felix, had foiled the director’s plans. And the only reason he was alive now was for one of two scenarios, or perhaps both: to be a spy on Josh, or to get the girl to change her mind.

  Josh handed Felix his drink and motioned for him to finish it off. He decided he liked Felix after all.

  Chapter 2

  Director of the Underworld. Peter liked the ring to his new title, and he liked the inscription in Latin carved into his mahogany office door. He tapped perfectly manicured fingertips on the faded red file folder that was marred by what he figured was a coffee stain. The edges of the folder were frayed and dog-eared. Part had been exposed to sunlight while a rectangle in the lower left quadrant retained some of its original bright red color. The rectangle was about the size of a small magazine or paperback.

  Probably a graphic novel or comic book. He knew the former director couldn’t read, just like his predecessors. He planned on becoming acquainted with the rules of law. That’s how he’d learned how to vaporize, ending the monopoly one certain well-respected dark angel had over the horde of his new kingdom.

  The spotless obsidian desk he sat behind as he addressed his group of dark angels reflected the importance of his newly elected position. There wasn’t a fingerprint or smudge to be found—not the tiniest speck of dust or even a hint of a dead insect body part, no matter how microscopic. The highly buffed desktop contained only two items: the well-worn file folder and an “In” basket, made of solid silver, Peter’s favorite metal. It thrilled him to see the tray completely empty.

  Peter crossed his long legs, sheathed in black leather custom-tailored pants. He could still smell a hint of the animal the leather had come from—a rare breed of South American cattle raised purely for their buttery hides. He looked with pride at his black snakeskin loafers with the red diamond designs of the sacrificed serpent’s underbelly. Must have been a big one.

  He couldn’t help staring at the reflection of his face in the shiny desktop, mesmerized by how his dark hair and shiny black eyes contrasted to the cool pink tones of his skin. Even clean-shaven—and he liked to shave several times a day—he still had a dark shadow that covered his square jaw. He ran his hand over the fine sandpaper of his stiff blue-black stubble and lingered over his chin, then rubbed his finger up and down mindlessly, enjoying the feel of the dent. He flicked his gaze from himself to the red folder.

  On the tab of the red folder was written one name: Joshua Brandon. The faded black letters made with a felt tipped pen long ago were barely legible. He picked up the file with his right hand and held it above his head, showing it to the small audience that sat before him on newly purchased metal chairs. Peter had gotten rid of the padded chairs along with the old carved wooden desk filled with candy wrappers, soda cans, and porno magazines, all which reflected how seriously the previous director had taken his job. But all that was in the past. Every one of those things had been permanently discarded and would never be seen again. Including the former director.

  “It took all six of you nearly an hour to find this file,” Peter said.

  The staffers nodded their heads in the affirmative.

  Sunlight leaked through the tall windows banking the right side of Peter’s office. Bookshelves surrounded the office interior, stuffed with binders and ancient black tomes with golden spines. The wall behind Peter was in perfect order, dusted and categorized by size, even color. The adjoining wall was a work in process, with papers and books rammed into places at odd angles, folded, bent, and ignored. The chairs squeaked, protesting the weight of the male dark angels occupying them. Yesterday had been a difficult day for them, Peter mused, and their rebellious streak was, for now, completely extinguished. There used to be seven staffers, but Peter had to vaporize one of them for answering a question wrong. The dark angel technically hadn’t answered it wrong, he just happened to answer first, and so that had earned him a charred oily spot on the black granite floor. The rest of his buddies had to clean him up. At least, what was left of him. Peter was giving them a lesson in control and in the randomness of his fairness. He expected many of them to want to resign soon. The first one to voice a request to get out of serving him would of course earn a death sentence, and then that would be the end to that rebellion.

  So easy to do this if one has the vision, the need. The chaos of the Underworld had been Peter’s particular pet peeve since becoming a dark angel only a year ago. He had quickly learned how things worked, who was paying attention, and who was not.

  “So, you want to tell me what I find most important about this file?” Peter flicked it back and forth, as if fanning himself. The pectoral bulges of his packed chest thrilled him, demonstrating the discipline his body had adopted as a human. Now he would be eternally frozen in perfect shape. He liked showing off his masculine physique, trying to impress the others as he waited for an answer.

  Of course they were afraid to respond. Even trained rats could grasp the concept of pain and death. Their faces were long and full of practiced dullness, but he smelled their fear just the same.

  “No one? Hmmm?” He didn’t really expect them to say a word. “I can tell you what’s in it, or, more specifically, what’s not in it, just by looking at the outside.” He watched them search their memories, their eyes roving around the room and at each other, looking for a tiny morsel of relief. Someone unbuttoned his collar. Someone else coughed. Several changed leg positions. Peter noticed they sat with their left knees folded over their right, like a string of clowns at the pitch and toss booth. Apparently no one wanted to appear not to know what he was talking about.

  That was smart.

  “Well, gents, look at this file.”

  All six of them did.

  “Notice the edges, here? The stain of a beverage? What this folder tells me is that no one has looked at it for a long, long time. Do you think I was very surprised to open it, and, voila!” Peter popped it open like a can of nuts. “There’s one sheet of paper in it.” He held up the paper on which was a picture of Joshua Brandon, the dark angel.

  Peter inhaled deeply before adding the next part, which made the windows rattle, “And nothing else!”

  The men jumped but didn’t look him in the eyes. They fidgeted in the squeaky metal chairs, examining the stains on their boots and the cleanliness of their hands. They even avoided eye contact among themselves. A young dark angel wiped his brow and licked his lips. But they all kept their heads bowed.

  Peter wondered if the fight in them was extinguished or just temporarily hidden. He’d had his fun yesterday and wasn’t in the mood to kill again today. But he also knew some of these men had developed affection for the former director and were probably uncomfortable with the fact, as well as the manner of his death.

  “I want this dark angel found and brought here by tomorrow evening.” Peter stood up suddenly and heard the collective squeak of metal chairs in response. “I have a steady supply of bodies and absolutely no need for anyone who cannot follow orders.” He leaned over the desk, de
manding their attention. “Are we clear on that?”

  There were mumbled “Yes, sirs” and an overall nodding of heads. The staffers seemed relieved they had been given a command they had a prayer of executing. One of them even managed a smirk Peter chose to ignore. There was a collective sigh of relief when they were dismissed.

  Peter sat back down in his new black leather chair, watching his ragtag crew silently shuffle single file from his office. He was excited his newfound position would finally allow him to bring the Underworld to its former glory. First, he had some housekeeping things to attend to. He looked over the disarray of books and papers on the other wall, the pile of magazines thrown in the corner. By tomorrow it all would be clean, without a page bent or out of place.

  Disgraceful. Utterly disgraceful.

  “Cleanliness is next to…” He smiled and didn’t finish the sentence. His gaze landed on the faded red folder again. He needed to be careful with Joshua Brandon, the legendary dark angel everyone looked up to. That particular piece of housekeeping had to be handled with great care.

  Like a gourmet meal, this was something he wanted to savor for a while. It was exciting to finally get to this point. No need to rush. It had been years since he’d played a real high stakes game of cat and mouse.

  He was looking forward to it.

  Chapter 3

  Melanie opened the gated courtyard entrance to Ray of Sunshine, her flower shop. She stepped through the patio to the glass French doors of the shop. The little bell tinkled as she opened the green womb of her space. Propped wide by a barrel cactus in a red pot, the door displayed the green hand lettering she had done herself. She brushed her fingers over the backwards letters, proud of her newfound talent. The first fresh scent of flowers hitting her nostrils was the best part of her day. She stood at the doorway’s edge and inhaled, letting it wash over her soul, grateful for this at least. Every morning the scent took away some of the dark sadness inside her and she came alive.

  She set her backpack down behind the counter and reset the alarm, her thoughts drifting to Felix and the fact that he was gone. Gone forever. Her lower lip quivered as a single teardrop watered a bouquet of mums. She felt responsible. Guilty.

  Could I have done something? It was a question she asked herself every day.

  Whenever she started to cry, and she had been doing it a lot during the past few days, she would run into the refrigerator and hang out with the bouquets and boughs of flowers in tall white metal cones. The chill of the air made it impossible for the tears to come. She would stand in the cold and think of Felix’s body: frigid, immobile and in the ground. She’d been the only one who’d grieved, really grieved for him on the day of his funeral.

  They had been buddies ever since he defended her from the bullies in their kindergarten class. He made her life tolerable for all those years her parents were so caught up in the society circuit, ignoring their talented and sensitive daughter’s maturation. She endured a string of chaperones and drivers who tried to get into her pants, and female tutors who secretly wanted to replace her mother and live in the big brown mansion on top of the hill. Melanie always considered she was an afterthought, or worse still, that her parents had given her no thought at all.

  Felix had been the first person she talked to about her uncaring family. The first person she’d shared a joint with, took a mushroom with, and got drunk with. They’d gone to the same community college. Cut class together. He was always there. Her soul mate. She knew he cared more for her than she did for him. She really didn’t any have romantic feelings for him, but a part of her wished she had given him back something she knew he wanted. Making it with him.

  How bad would that have been? Would it have made the difference? Was that too much to ask? But now it was too late.

  Felix deserved better than he got.

  She remembered when Felix’s father married a new woman who was half his mother’s age. Though his stepmother tried to be his friend, Felix went downhill fast. This beautiful woman insisted he call her Mom, even though she was only seven years older than her moody stepson. Melanie shuddered, recalling that Felix’s mother hadn’t even been dead two months before his father had remarried.

  Melanie’s parents weren’t entirely clueless as to her depressed condition after the death of her friend. She’d heard them whispering in the kitchen at night when they thought she was asleep.

  All she’d ever wanted was to be a part of something. In an odd bit of luck, her parents chose to help her through the tragedy by giving her an apartment and buying her a flower shop one of her dad’s clients was losing. Ray of Sunshine had been the perfect gift. Not only was she free to be on her own, which she desperately needed, but she got to take care of plants and flowers, and perhaps focus on growing something: a business.

  Rest well, Felix. Take care, my love. As she said it, a little tingle went down her spine, as if there was still a connection there, though they never had been lovers. She believed he still lived somehow, that he would come back to her eventually and that he would never completely abandon her.

  She felt closer to him as she stood in the refrigerated compartment with the flowers that would live only a few precious days. She had an imaginary rendezvous with him daily, and would talk to him about her business, how she was feeling, what zany things her customers did or said, as if he followed along. She liked telling him these things, even without getting an answer back. She knew he would wait for her, and some day, as she lay cold in her grave, he would come to her and show her death’s way. Then she would be able to thank him properly for all the years of his selfless friendship.

  Just as one door had been closed, another had opened. Perhaps Felix’s greatest gift was in showing her what not to do. He saved me from the death he took. And she was forever grateful to him for helping her choose life. Melanie had to admit, without the daily reminder of his tormented soul, she found herself feeling happier, like some influence over her had been broken. For while Felix lived in the cold refrigerator, Melanie lived in the shop filled with flowers, celebrating life with her customers in the warm light of day.

  Across the parking lot, the band of three dark angels gathered close, watching Melanie open the shop. Josh had been focusing on Felix’s face. Tears were streaming down his pink cheeks, a lost puppy dog look in his eyes. Josh knew if he ever needed a huge favor from Felix—something so risky it could mean elimination from the universe—as long as he offered up this little shop girl, Felix would brave whatever Peter and his Underworld allies could dish up. That was something extremely important to know. Josh knew everyone had a price, and it wasn’t usually about money.

  Josh knew there were some things anyone would willingly die for. Unlike some of his more ruthless angel friends, he did not see it as a flaw in the DNA, a secret code Father had sewn into everything he created to ensure life would go on or that hope was never entirely eliminated. Hope was something humans felt. Dark angels focused on reality. It was simply the underlying rule. It was smart to know all the rules, big and small, in order to operate as unfettered as possible. He didn’t have to agree with them all. But he damn well needed to know them. The mistake wasn’t in breaking the rules; it was not knowing you were breaking them and what the consequences were.

  There’s no right or wrong, just consequences. Always consequences to consider.

  Melanie had ducked inside, not giving Josh the chance to see her face, but he saw her blond hair, pulled in a long French braid that cascaded down her back. She wore jeans and a blue, long sleeved T-shirt.

  “You can’t talk to her,” Josh said to Felix, who was fixated on the front door. The younger dark angel’s breathing was strong and ragged. His hands were fluttering at the sides of his pants. “I’ll go,” Josh continued.

  “Will you tell her I’m okay, that I still love her?” Felix finally looked at his mentor head on.

  “But you’re not okay, Felix. You’re dead. Remember? They buried you.”

  “No they didn�
��t, boss.” Karl inserted. “He came to us before that. They buried a box with a couple of bags of sand.” Karl was, as usual, trying to be helpful, but he pissed Josh off anyway.

  “Karl, how many days since you’ve witnessed a vaporization?”

  “Please, no. I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “You’ll be sorrier as you and your black soul melt in the fires of the Underworld. Shut the fuck up.”

  Josh turned back to Felix. “As much as I would like to, I can’t tell her about you. Not unless you want to jeopardize her soul. Do you want me to set it up so you negotiate that with her? I can train you to do it, man.”

  “No.”

  “I can fix it, make it so you sit down and reason with her just like Karl demonstrated earlier.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t you want just a taste?”

  “No.”

  “Try it. You might like it.”

  “Fuck no. I want her to live!”

  A woman stopped at the traffic light turned and scowled.

  Josh continued, “You want her little body? I know you do, Felix.”

  “Yeah, but not in that way. I want her alive, not dead.”

  “Sorry, man, it doesn’t work that way. But, if you claim her, she can live with you forever.”

  “Yeah? Well, I think she’d hate me forever.”

  Cars traveled in front of them, bifurcating the distance to the shop.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Well then, you could introduce her to Peter. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “Shut up. I don’t want her to have anything to do with that guy.”

  “Those are good instincts, man,” Josh said. “So, I’m being generous when I tell you I will give her a little warning, something to arm her in case Peter comes calling.” Josh waited to see if Felix would react. “You sure you don’t want to sponsor her, make her yours?”