by G. A. Rael
"You're damn right I wouldn't have," Darren snapped. He wasn't sure he believed it now, although it was starting to seem more logical than the alternative.
Jordan sighed. "In any case, it didn't work and Hank shot you."
Darren frowned. "What do you mean he shot me? As in I got shot and you healed me somehow, or --?"
"Shot as in you were dead. That's when Hermes appeared and offered to sweeten his first offer," she said wryly.
Darren's eyes widened as he realized what she was getting at. It was impossible, but it made sense of things he never thought he'd get an answer for. "No. No, please tell me you didn't do that. Please tell me you didn't sell your soul to a fucking demon to bring me back from the dead.”
"What was I supposed to do, Darren?" she cried. "You don't understand because you don't remember. Even if you did, I'm not sure you'd understand how much I --" she broke off. "I know you don't remember everything I told you about my past, but you're not the first person I've let down. I just couldn't let another person I loved die because of me. Hermes said he could bring you back, even if he did leave out a few details in the fine print."
The demon shrugged. "It's all there in the terms and conditions. You're the one who signed on the dotted line without reading them properly."
"Pardon the interruption, but this means that Jordan's soul is what, exactly?" Chase asked, crossing his arms.
"Mine," said Hermes. "At least, it will be once she's dead, which may be sooner rather than later if the angels have their way.”
"What can we do?" asked Chase.
"Against the angels? Not much," Hermes admitted. “Cold Creek is warded. It’s an ancient treaty, but the long and short of it is that no holy creature can ever trespass on this hallowed ground. Good news for you, Darren,” he quipped.
“Fuck off,” Darren growled. “You’re saying literal angels are coming after Jordan and we’ve just gotta hope some real estate deal you made forever ago is enough to hold them off?”
“No, that would be reckless,” said Hermes. “That's why I picked up a souvenir at the gift shop on our way out. Once they do show up, it should buy us some time."
"What was that thing, anyway?" Jordan asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know," the demon said, tapping her nose with the tip of his claw in a strangely affectionate if patronizing gesture. "You can't be trusted since it's obvious you'll sell your soul to the highest bidder. You're a soul slut," he said matter-of-factly.
Jordan scowled.
"What? You're a witch. It's in your nature. Take it from the king of slutdom.“
"Listen, I don't care if you are a demon, that's my future wife you're speaking of," Chase protested.
Hermes waved his hand and a zipper drew Chase’s mouth shut. "Court adjourned."
“Hermes!” Jordan cried, running to the lawyer, whose screams of panic were being muffled by the ghastly alteration to his lips. "Fix him!"
"You know, there are plenty of women who would love a man who can't help but keep his mouth shut," said Hermes.
"I learned a few lessons while I was in Paradise," Jordan said, seething, "the most important being that as long as I'm alive, I control you. Put. Him. Back."
The demon watched her through narrowed eyes. Darren wasn't nearly recovered from the shock of what Hermes had just done to Chase, but he was recovered enough to be afraid that the demon would turn on Jordan next. Once again, he knew there would be nothing he could do to protect her, but he planned to die trying. Again.
"Fine. Have it your way," Hermes said boredly. With another wave of his hand, Chase’s mouth was back to normal and he collapsed, gasping.
"It's okay," Jordan said to Chase, rubbing his back. The soothing gesture filled Darren with an irrational amount of jealousy that Hermes quickly picked up on.
"Ain't them the breaks? You spend months investigating and trying to avenge your girlfriend's murder and she still runs back into the pretty boy's arms.”
"Murder?" Jordan frowned.
“What was I supposed to think?” Darren challenged. “You disappeared without a trace and he was the last person who saw you.”
“You weren’t supposed to care,” she murmured, looking away. “You were supposed to forget me.”
“Well, I didn’t,” he snapped. “Obviously your demon didn’t do a good enough job. At least now I know why it feels like entire chunks of my life are just missing.”
He expected Jordan to argue, not the guilt that shadowed her face as she hugged herself. Yet again, he’d lost control of his temper. What the hell was wrong with him?
Hermes reached out and stopped Darren with a hand pressed against his forehead. "Why don't you have a seat?"
Before Darren could blink, something swept him off his feet and thrust him back into the chair. Hermes came to stand in front of him, biting his lip as his eyes roamed Darren's body. "Mmm. You can give me a vet checkup anytime, Dr. Dreamy."
"No offense, but I think I'd rather be touched by an angel than go anywhere near you."
"You might just get your wish," said Hermes, caressing Darren's cheek with those long, awful claws. "I hear Samael swings both ways. Maybe he'll throw you a bone before he rips you apart, soul and all."
"He wouldn't do that," Jordan snapped.
"No?" Darren breathed a sigh of relief when the demon turned away from him—until he immediately started in on the witch.
“And you think you know him just because you spent a few centuries Up There?" Hermes scoffed. “Samael is the Gatekeeper, the leader of the Watchers and the Heavenly H.O.S.T.. Since you know nothing, I'll simplify what each of those things means. He's a professional zombie hunter and there's no way he's going to let our little friend frolic around having undead misadventures until the apocalypse begins."
"Undead?" Darren asked, frowning. “You were serious about that?”
"Yes," said Hermes. "Something tells me you've been a bit more interested in your fiancée's mind than usual. Judging from the looks of you, I'd say you've been out exploring your more carnivorous nature."
Darren's chest clenched in dread and he found himself wishing for the numbness that had plagued him for so long. Since Jordan's absence, if he really stopped to think about it. He had longed to feel human again for months, but now he would have gladly taken the emptiness back.
"You're not serious." He looked to Jordan for any sign of hope, but the fact that she wasn't meeting his eyes said enough.
"Oh, but I am," Hermes said, almost gleefully. "And I have to say, I'm just so pleased with the way you turned out. I didn't think you'd be half as sentient as you are. You're a model prototype--or is that redundant?"
"You don’t have to act so happy about it,” Jordan said through gritted teeth.
“Of course I’m happy. I finally managed to get one over on the flyboys. They pick on demons because they've got arsenals hiding behind those pearly gates, and now I’ve got one of my own.”
“The consorts,” Jordan muttered.
“The what?” Darren asked, almost afraid to know.
Jordan bit her lip guiltily. “I’m not just a witch. I’m… kind of the Whore of Babylon.”
Darren was sure she was joking, but he realized she wasn’t about to deliver the punchline anytime soon. “You’re serious? What the hell does that even mean?”
“It’s complicated,” she sighed. “But I’m technically the harbinger of the apocalypse. Hence how I ended up in Samael’s sights in the first place. I’m a nuke in a capricious demons’ hands, and raising the dead didn’t win me any brownie points.”
“You still haven’t told me how they got their hands on you in the first place,” Darren reminded her.
“Oh, I can fill you in on that,” Chase said icily. “She did it to save you.”
Now Jordan was glaring at him. So there was some trouble in paradise, after all.
“What is he talking about?” Darren demanded. “Jordan?”
“Samael was coming for you,” she said so
ftly. “What you are isn’t supposed to exist, and he was going to take your soul.”
“No,” Darren growled, looking over at Hermes. Suddenly he was more furious with the demon than frightened of him. “You let her do that? I thought she was your ‘weapon?’”
“Easy, boy. I didn’t let her do anything, but if you haven’t noticed, telling her what to do is about as dicey as neutering a bull without anesthesia.”
Darren grimaced, but as unpleasant as the mental image was, the demon had a point. “How did you get back?”
“We fell,” said Hermes.
The pieces were coming together in a picture Darren would rather have not seen. “The crater…”
“I should really lay off the booze,” Hermes said, patting his flat stomach. Prick. “In any case, your existence has technically maybe possibly set up the chain of events necessary to begin the apocalypse," said Hermes, tapping his claws together in satisfaction. "The raising of the dead starts with one soul and the angels—Samael specifically--don't want that to happen yet. The apocalypse is an arms race and they'd like to make sure the Heavenly storehouses are fully stocked before it begins."
"I'm no expert in biblical imagery," Darren muttered, rubbing his head, "but doesn't the Devil have some sort of say in all this?"
"The Devil?" Hermes laughed. "Oh, that's cute. That position, little boy, has been vacant for a long time. Humans have filled it nicely in the interim, but it's more of a job title than an actual person."
"And Satan?" asked Chase.
"An alternate title, same 401k plan and parking space."
"Why do I get the feeling we're all just helping you put together your application for the job?" Jordan asked.
"Oh, please. I don't do responsibility and I don't play well with other demons. Haters, the whole lot of 'em," said Hermes. "I'm more of an independent contractor. I'm not particularly interested in dying for a slice of lakefront real estate like the others. You see, I like your little world. I think it's perfect in its imperfection, and I want it to stay the way it is. Sooner or later, one side or the other is going to start the apocalypse. If I beat them both to the punch, I can put it off indefinitely."
"Like a celestial Cold War," said Darren.
"Pretty much,” Hermes answered. “At the very least, it gives me a few more centuries to enjoy the poolside and all the cabana boys I can eat. Plus, I hear Metallica is back together, so I kind of wanna see how that works out."
"I'm glad the state of world affairs is so trivial to you," said Chase.
Hermes rolled his eyes. "Things have been tense Up There lately with rumors of a full-blown angelic civil war and I still have bruises from the last one. This time, I'm taking a cue from you clever little kitties and taking charge of my own fate."
"Didn't Lucifer beat you to that?" asked Darren.
"Lucifer was a false savior," said Hermes, turning venomous. Not a moment later, he had regained his disaffected demeanor. "He rallied us all behind him and abandoned us the second things got tough. In the end, he was just another angel. We're all out for ourselves and anyone who thinks otherwise is a damned fool who deserves to get fucked over."
Darren didn't know the demon well enough to be surprised by the outburst, but Jordan seemed fairly shocked. Chase was just cringing, seemingly in fear that he would be the victim of Hermes' demonic sleight of hand yet again. Before the demon could throw him even further off track, Darren asked, “You said something about consorts earlier. What does that mean?”
“Perks of the job,” Hermes purred. “Five lovers, five powers to unlock. And you, lucky boy, are one of them.”
“Me?” Darren coughed, looking Jordan’s way. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, which wasn’t a good sign. “How the fuck am I involved? I don’t even believe in magic powers.”
“Considering everything you’ve just seen, that’s a bit irrational,” Chase remarked.
Fuck it, he was right. “Say I believe you… who the hell are the other four?”
“You’re looking at one of them,” Hermes purred with a coy little wave that did nothing to make him seem less malicious. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“And me,” Chase said, raising his hand unenthusiastically.
“Samael is number four,” said Jordan. Darren noticed the way her voice fell, and while he could understand plenty of emotional responses to the whole situation, sadness wasn’t one of them. “Number five is TBD.”
“Great. So we’ve got an angel, a dead guy, a demon and a defense attorney.” Darren arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound a bit strange to anyone?”
“Given his profession, it could be argued that he’s infernal,” Hermes mused, stroking his bottom lip curiously as he eyed Chase. “That or he’s going to meet an untimely end of his own.”
Chase turned whiter than the paint on his colorless walls. “Y—you’re joking. Right?” He looked to Jordan for help. “Please tell me he’s joking.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” she said, taking his hand. Darren forced himself not to look away. The only thing more fucked up than realizing he was one of Jordan’s consorts was realizing he still had feelings for her in the same night.
Hermes yawned. “If you'll all excuse me, I just fell a few trillion light years and I think I've earned a bubble bath. Jordan, we'll chat later," he said with all the restrained agitation of a mother who didn’t want to scold her child in front of company. “We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do.”
"We do,” Jordan said firmly, holding his stare.
Darren watched her in a mixture of awe and curiosity. This wasn't the same timid girl who had come into town a little less than a year ago, barely able to speak up when the waitress at the diner got her order wrong. Whether the change had occurred in Heaven or wherever she had really been, or whether it had been so slow and gradual that it had happened before his very eyes without him noticing, the woman standing in front of him was practically a stranger.
If everything Hermes had just confessed was true--and Darren had the nauseating sense that it was--she wasn't any more human than he was, either.
"Oh, and one more thing," said Hermes, pausing in front of Darren on his way out. Before the vet could even ask what he wanted, the demon took Darren's face in both his hands and brushed their lips together. There was hardly any force behind the touch, but a blinding light nearly made Darren lose whatever consciousness he had left.
Memories came flooding back. Emotions. Conversations. Chunks of time that he thought he had lost forever. The irrational agitation he felt whenever he was in Jordan's presence--the one that still couldn't drown out all the other things he felt for her--was pulled up from his mind like railroad tracks being ripped out of the ground.
Darren wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The pain was excruciating, but it was as if the demon's touch had frozen him.
“Hermes!” Jordan cried, shoving him. “What did you do to him?”
By the time she made it across the room, it was over. A slow smile curved the demon's lips. “Just a little refresher, darling. Don’t be too jealous. I don’t fancy the taste of booze and repressed guilt.”
Darren collapsed in the chair, his head falling onto his chest. Maybe it was the result of the week he had spent wandering without rest, or maybe it was whatever Hermes had done to his mind that finally sent him over the edge, but he felt his consciousness slipping rapidly.
He remembered everything.
Chapter Four
Jordan
"Do you think he's okay?" Jordan asked, draping a blanket over Darren as he slept.
"That depends on how you define okay," said Chase. "I'd say I think he'll live, but according to your demon master, that's not the correct terminology."
Jordan turned to watch him worriedly. "You're very calm about all this. I mean I've been gone for four months, you just found out demons are real, and one just zipped your mouth shut."
"Technically, I think he turned my mouth into a zipper."
Jordan blinked at him. "Does anything bother you?"
"Actually, yes," he said, stepping out onto the veranda. “There’s one thing that bothers me more than any other.”
Jordan followed him outside and slid the glass door shut behind her, trying not to look up at the sky. The second night of the full moon that had bound Hermes to his true demonic form couldn't pass quickly enough for her liking. It was hard enough to believe that only a matter of months had passed on Earth.
Jordan gladly took the glass of wine Chase offered, her hands still trembling from the ordeal that seemed both moments and lifetimes ago. "And that thing is?"
"It's a bit troubling when a man realizes that the woman he loves has gone missing and there's nothing he can do, save for search futilely all while having the very unsettling suspicion that she's nowhere to be found. At least, not anywhere he can reach her."
He paused, taking a long sip of the dark burgundy liquid. He sighed deeply and leaned against the railing, staring out at the expanse of wilderness beyond his property. "Oh, and then learning from an ancient demon that her undead ex-boyfriend and damn near the only person he's ever truly hated is also her soulmate. That's a real hoot," he added, tossing his head back to polish off the glass.
Jordan listened in silence that lingered long after he finished speaking. She didn't know what to say to any of that. An apology seemed so insufficient. Before she had the chance to decide, he murmured, “Three months, one week, two days and change."
"I'm sorry?"
"That's how long you were gone," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Not four months."
Jordan held his gaze for a long while, stunned as her theory that Chase wouldn't even feel her absence crumbled. She finally stepped a bit closer and reached out to cup his face in her hand. "We really need to have a talk about your habit of referring to yourself in the third person."
Chase grabbed her around the waist and crushed her against his chest for what Jordan had to admit was by far the most passionate kiss they had ever shared. Her cry of surprise was muffled against his lips as he dug his nails into her back. Her absence seemed to have cured him of his other habit of handling her like a porcelain doll that might break at any moment.