Angel in Waiting

by Sharon Saracino

  Elle awoke with a start to the sound of her own cry, a lump in her throat and her stomach churning. People in the seats closest to her turned in her direction to regard her with openly curious expressions. Apparently sorrow, stress, and the rocking motion of the bus had lulled her to sleep. And right into the nightmare. Naturally. A bead of sweat tickled the valley between her breasts as hot blood rushed into her face. She offered the observers a weak smile as reassurance. She hated that she had so little control over her own mind. Maybe she should start wearing Dimitri’s shirt full time? Whispering among themselves, the passengers turned back to face the front of the bus. Except for one.

  Elle bit back a curse as a disheveled, sandy haired man who appeared to be a few years older than she, rose to his feet three rows in front of her. He stumbled in her direction, grasping the tops of the seats to maintain his balance against the uneven sway of the speeding bus. He towered over her, clutching the seat with one hand and awkwardly pushing his thick, black framed glasses up on his nose with the other. His wrinkled khakis, an oversized polo shirt, and cross-body man purse completed his ensemble. Elle wondered why he didn’t just get the word Geek tattooed on his forehead.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, thanks.” She looked away, staring out the window and hoping he would take the hint. He didn’t. He shifted from one foot to the other until she looked back. He glanced pointedly at her bags occupying the seat next to her as if hoping she would make room for him to sit down. As if.

  “I, uh…well, I wondered if you ate today? I get hypoglycemic myself, and you look a little shaky.” He offered a shy smile and dug around in his bag. He held out a cellophane package. “I always carry snacks. Would you like some crackers?”

  “No, thanks. Really, I’m fine,” Elle replied firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. Constant paranoia was exhausting. The guy seemed harmless enough. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of the dream.

  “Well, okay…” He dropped the crackers back in his bag and shoved his glasses up on his nose. “If you’re sure.”

  “Really, no thanks.” Elle poked the earbuds back in her ears. Retrieving her sunglasses from her lap, she shoved them back on her face in a clear sign of dismissal. Still, the man continued to stand there, clutching the seat and swaying over her dangerously. She was about to lose her thin veneer of politeness and tell him to get lost when he frowned and turned to stumble back to his own seat, throwing a glance over his shoulder every so often until he finally sat down out of sight.

  Elle tugged the earbuds free and shoved them back into her purse along with her phone. Then she turned to look out the back window. Now that they had crossed into Pennsylvania, the traffic had thinned considerably. In fact, it was downright sparse. The long, straight stretch of road flanked by thick stands of trees visible through the back window of the bus sported a couple of SUV’s, a minivan crammed with family vacation equipment, and a white cube van about a half a mile back. The inevitable eighteen-wheelers were the only other vehicles on the road. She turned back to face the front and glanced at her watch. Her head throbbed persistently now, and she could hardly wait to ditch the wig and free her heavy hair from its confinement.

  With nerves strung taut as a tightrope, Elle heaved a sigh of relief and gathered her things together preparing to disembark as the bus finally slowed and pulled into the terminal. She was one short cab ride away from Kat’s place and hopefully the next stop on her road to obscurity.

  ****

  Dimitri cruised past the entrance of the low brick building serving as the Mount Pocono bus terminal and pulled the battered cube van into the parking lot a little further along. Squinting through a pair of mirrored aviators, he observed every passenger alighting from the bus and committed them to memory. Once Elle entered the building, he tossed the sunglasses on the seat beside him and removed the baseball cap he’d donned over his newly trimmed hair. He raked his fingers through the sweat dampened strands now hanging just below his shoulders. Hell, his hair hadn’t been this short since World War II. His size and his scars made it hard enough to blend into the general population. A thick mane of black hair hanging nearly to his ass pretty much negated his ability to go unnoticed. He couldn’t do much about the first two problems, but the hair had been an easy fix.

  He climbed down from the cab as Elle came out of the building and dropped a bag at her feet near the curb, keeping her purse securely hitched on her shoulder. He wasn’t especially concerned she would recognize him from this distance should she happen to look in his direction. Hell, at the moment, he barely recognized himself, and his hair had little to do with it.

  Dimitri had never felt so torn between opposing loyalties. For hundreds of years, he’d pursued a single-minded course of action with a defined purpose. Protect his brethren, avenge his family, and thwart the Fallen. Now, one small, kick ass sexy woman threatened to undermine his resolve. If he discovered Elle Gates was somehow working against the Earthbound, would he have the strength to hand her over to face judgment and simply walk away? The decision was no longer as clear as it should be. Aside from her obvious physical appeal, he’d seen her courage, grit, and determination as she fought to come to terms with an experience that, according to the Fallen who’d given his life to destroy the demon, no human should have been able to survive. Kat told them her empath had felt Elle fighting to keep the demon in check, to counter the evil, even as he ravaged her mind and body. A guy couldn’t help but fall for a woman like that. Dimitri’s gut twisted. Despite his best intentions, human or not, this woman had come to mean something to him. Period.

  A taxi pulled up to the curb where Elle waited, and as she climbed in, Dimitri reached inside the truck for the sunglasses, jamming them back on his face. Then he tucked the keys over the visor as arranged, and slammed the door. Her cab pulled away and took off down the road. He wasn’t concerned about losing sight of her. He could travel a hell of a lot faster his way. He’d figured out her intended destination almost as soon as the bus crossed the Delaware Water Gap. What he couldn’t figure out was why. He propped a shoulder against the dented fender of the borrowed truck, squinting into the late afternoon sun despite the UV protection until the car rounded a turn and disappeared from sight. Then he slapped the Yankees cap back on his head, tugged the brim down over his eyes, and faded to Kat McAllister’s house. He hoped when all was said and done, Elle Gates was playing ball for the home team.

  Chapter Six

  The crowded trees blurred together along the side of the road as dappled sunlight randomly pierced the thick, green canopy, flashing like a strobe light and irritating Elle’s already throbbing head. She had neither the energy nor the interest to acknowledge the cab driver’s droning attempts at small talk, though she supposed he was trying to be friendly or angling for a bigger tip. She shifted uncomfortably to alleviate the prickly irritation of the stiff, cracked, vinyl seat poking through her jeans. Instead, she concentrated on taking shallow breaths, hoping to minimize the pungent mixture of stale smoke and unwashed bodies permeating the close confines of the vehicle and burning her nose. A loud cough interrupted her stupor and she turned to see the driver regarding her curiously over his shoulder.

  “We’re here,” he repeated a little more loudly.

  Elle’s cheeks warmed as she realized they’d pulled into the gravel drive of the rambling two-story farmhouse and she hadn’t even realized they’d stopped. The white clapboard building huddled among the trees looking as if it had occupied the spot forever. She loved it here, nearly as much as Kat did. The wooden swing twitched eerily on one side of the enormous wraparound porch as though someone had jumped out of it to run inside and announce her arrival. Must be her overactive imagination, of course. Just one of the many perks of living in the hallucinatory world of sleep deprivation and paranoia.

  “Fourteen fifty,” the driver said as he climbed out and lumbered around to the rear of the car. Elle climbed
out on the other side, digging in her bag for her wallet. Hinges creaked, and the car rocked as the trunk slammed shut and the driver came around to where she waited.

  She took the lead and the cabbie followed, shuffling up the drive with her bag. A mild breeze carried the faint scent of lilacs. According to her father, they’d been her mother’s favorite, and the fragrance brought thoughts of a mother to mind. A mother who had technically never even existed. She had no idea why she thought of that now. She didn’t want to think about her make-believe mother, or Kat, or…anyone else for that matter. In fact, she was tired of thinking. If she could manage to think of nothing at all for a couple of hours, that would be great.

  Reaching the bottom of the porch steps, Elle turned and tugged her bag from the driver’s meaty fist and set it on the sidewalk beside her, then handed the man a crumpled twenty. He glanced at the bill and reached in his pocket for change.

  “Keep it,” she snapped in a curt tone. The guy narrowed his eyes as if trying to get a better look at her. Elle ducked her head, letting the smooth curtain of the wig fall forward and partially obscure her features.

  “Thanks for the help. Have a good night.”

  He hesitated, looking as though he might have something more to say, but finally nodded and made his way back down the walk and along the drive. At least the guy could take a hint, she thought. She hadn’t intended to be rude. She was tired, that’s all. Bone weary, soul sucking tired in a way she doubted any amount of rest could remedy.

  She waited until the cab pulled away, then bent to pry a loose board from the steps and retrieve the key Kat always left there. Dropping her bag in the entry hall, she closed and locked the door behind her then leaned against it with a relieved sigh. The hallway led straight back to a spacious but outdated kitchen. To the left of the hallway was a cozy living room and behind it, a formal dining room with a large, heavy table which had been Kat’s grandmother’s and dated to the late twenties. Every piece of furniture was old, mismatched, and well used, but the overall feeling was warm and welcoming. A collection of framed photographs lined the mantel of the stone fireplace exactly where they’d been for as long as Elle could remember. Elle sagged against the door and let the peace she always felt in this house envelope her, relieved to see that despite her marriage to a wealthy man, Kat had left the place completely unchanged. Just one more thing that would make it hard to say good-bye.

  Elle let her purse slide from her shoulder to join her carry-on on the floor and headed for the half bath off of the kitchen. She availed herself of the facilities and after washing her hands and splashing some water on her face, she regarded herself critically in the mirror. Her lashes couldn’t conceal the faint blue smudges beneath the wide, blue eyes staring back at her. The harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting gave her already fair complexion a sickly pale translucency. Elle sighed. Even after the first good night’s sleep she’d had in recent memory, the bags under her eyes had bags of their own. She tugged off the wig and skullcap and freed her sweat dampened hair, combing it with her fingers, and let it fall in a tangled riot of waves around her shoulders.

  Shuffling back into the kitchen, she decided it was too bad she hadn’t had the presence of mind to have the cab driver stop at a grocery store for a few staples. It looked like her overdue dinner would consist of the one remaining protein bar left in her purse and a nice, refreshing glass of tap water. Expecting nothing, she peered into the fridge. A half-empty bottle of flat root beer, a gallon of spring water, and a full can of coffee nearly made her shout for joy. Not surprisingly, there was no milk, but at least she had the promise of caffeine. She also found a jar of mayonnaise, a bottle of ketchup, and two kinds of mustard which hadn’t yet passed their expiration date.

  A quick survey of the cabinets produced a can of tuna, some saltine crackers, and an unopened jar of dried, minced onions. Hallelujah! Elle made quick work of putting together a makeshift meal with the tuna, spices, and mayonnaise and wolfed it all down with half a sleeve of crackers and a glass of syrupy root beer.

  After returning the kitchen to its former order, Elle trundled back out into the hall and eyed her bag critically. Head down to the basement and deposit the journal now? Or enjoy this gift of temporary peace and deal with the problem in the morning? Decisions, decisions. Peace being a rare commodity lately, Elle decided to embrace it and dragged her bag over to the sofa. She pulled out the book stuffed with the envelope and laid it on the coffee table. Then she pushed it away from her slightly as though it might jump up and bite her. The journal and the letter held every truth she’d never wanted anyone to discover, and now she planned to confess all. It would have been easier to simply disappear without a word, but it wouldn’t have been fair. She owed Kat the truth. Better late than never.

  The unexpected knock caused her stomach to leap into her throat. Startled, she jumped from the sofa, banging her knee painfully on the table. Heart racing, she limped quietly toward the door, trying to remember if she’d locked it. Then she realized how ridiculous she was being. If someone waited outside to threaten or harm her, they’d hardly bother to knock, right? Taking a deep breath, she clicked the deadbolt to the left but left the chain intact, just in case, and cracked open the door.

  “You! What are you doing here?”

  Nerd-nuts from the bus pushed his glasses up on his nose with his forefinger and looked down at his shoes as the color crept up his neck and into his face. Elle saw him reach for his man purse and started to close the door. He stuck a foot in the crack to stop her.

  “Wait, please! I’m sorry. I know I probably seem like some crazy stalker, but I’m a big fan, Miss Gates and I wondered if you could sign a couple of books for me?” He pulled out one of her contemporary romances and a hardcover of her investigative account of Jack the Ripper and held them tentatively in her direction.

  “You have got to be freakin’ kidding me!”

  “My name is Jim, by the way. I thought it was you on the bus, but I wasn’t really positive until this. He tucked the books under his arm and pulled his phone out of his bag. After tapping the screen a few times, he turned it in her direction. A photo of herself stared back at her, one he’d obviously taken as she exited the bus, except the hair was red. “It looked like you, but the hair threw me off. Once I played with color in the photo editor, I knew I was right.”

  “No offense, Jim-by-the-way, but yeah, it does occur to me you’re some kind of crazy stalker, and I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “But…” Elle pushed his foot out of the way with hers and started to close the door. The man pushed back. For a geek, he was a lot stronger than he looked. A knot of fear tightened her stomach. “Please, if you could just sign…”

  “Honey,” Elle called back over her shoulder, annoyed at the tremor she heard in her voice and hoping her fan didn’t notice. She’d never had any sort of problem, but she knew other authors who had. One woman in particular was actually forced to take out a restraining order against an overzealous reader who’d been unable to separate the writer from her sexy female characters. “Could you please come out here and throw this lunatic off the porch? He thinks I’m some writer or something.”

  Jim’s eyes widened behind his Buddy Holly specs as he attempted to peer behind her. “Look. I don’t want any trouble.” He slowly backed away from the door.

  “Then I suggest you leave before my boyfriend comes out. He’s taking a nap, and he’s really grumpy when he wakes up. It’s the steroids, you know. I told him he should give them up, but he’s really into that whole more is better muscle mass thing.”

  Jim-by-the-way shoved his books and his phone into his bag, tripped down the steps, and ran for his bike without another word. Elle closed and locked the door, then leaned against it and released a breath, waiting for her pulse to slow and her knees to stop knocking together.

  Her attention was diverted by a movement of the drapes on one side the front window. Elle straightened slowly and picked up her j
ournal, as it was the nearest weapon at hand. She moved quietly toward the window. The house had been closed up for months and heaven knew what wild creature may have found its way inside from the surrounding woods. Taking a deep breath, she tore the curtain aside and discovered a squirrel crouching behind the fabric. Startled, he stared up at her with his beady little eyes, then scrambled from behind the fabric and started running a manic marathon around the room.

  “Oh, my God!” Elle screeched, swatting the air with the book in the animal’s general direction. “I am not a nature girl you little tree rat! Get out! Out!”

  The rodent continued to run frantically around the living room, up and over furniture, under tables, everywhere, in fact, except anywhere near the door. Elle dove for her purse and fumbled among the contents until she came up with a small canister of pepper spray. Hoping it wouldn’t seriously hurt the animal, but praying it would at least stun it enough to allow her to throw a towel or something over it and shove it out the door, she waited until it paused for breath on the back of the sofa. The creature eyed her warily, whiskers twitching, and tail erect. She could see its tiny little heart racing against its tiny little chest, the wild rhythm matching her own. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt, then she decided she had enough of her own fear to deal with at the moment and the erratic heartbeat probably indicated the damn thing was rabid or something. She crept forward, aimed carefully, and depressed the button. She missed the animal completely, the stream striking the wall as the frightened creature launched itself from the sofa, limbs extended as though flying. It landed directly on Elle’s chest.