Killian shrugged like it was no big deal. “You use your eyes. I use my mind. Easy.” He dropped his gaze to the angel trap and pulled out Sgaine Dutre. The thin blade was Killian’s most powerful weapon, forged from silver and tempered by his blood, its clear blue stone sparked to life at the touch of its master’s fingers. “Give me your hand, little brother.”
Blanching even more impossibly white, Dec sucked in a gallon of air and ground out, “Get it over with.”
The stone blazed as Killian destroyed the angel trap with a couple of quick flicks of his wrist. With a subtle shake of his head, Killian wiped the blade on his pants and said, “It’s done. You should be able to use your powers to get out of here. We need to bolt. You’re too weakened to fight, and they’re coming back.”
Dec wanted to leave. Really, he did, but his legs didn’t want to cooperate. He trusted Killian, but he’d sat so long his muscles were frozen. He started to sweat again. The sounds of boots hitting the sidewalk and the faint click of ammo belts had been steadily growing closer. Killian was right. They were about to have company, and he wasn’t in any condition to fight. The toxin had to be purged first.
Sean helped him out by hauling him to his feet and gripping his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall on his face. “Come on. Let’s go!”
He swayed and found his balance again. There was something he needed to do before he teleported anywhere. He gritted his teeth and fumbled with his zipper. “You might want to stand back.”
The reentry into the penthouse was less than smooth. His powers weren’t working at full strength, so he’d miscalculated the landing site by 50 feet. Normally, he’d land inside the foyer without any issues. This time though, he’d landed at the edge of the rooftop garden. As soon as his molecules reformed to solid mass, he swore, “Oh, shit!” and promptly took a header off the 18th floor. With arms and legs sprawling in a freefall, he heard Sean shout above him. As the faded red roof of a parked car zoomed towards him, he closed his eyes and sent an SOS to his maker.
“Declan!” A firm hand gripped his bicep in a persistent squeeze. The voice was familiar.
Raphael.
His ears rang as he gradually regained consciousness and everything came flooding back. He kept his eyes shut against the pain he knew was waiting for him. He didn’t feel dead… at the moment. But he’d been dead before, and it hadn’t hurt then either, so…
Raphael shook his shoulder. “You will be the death of me yet. Wake up and let’s get you healed.”
He slit his lids to find several faces hovering above him. Oh, awesome, an audience. Sean’s smart ass mouth curled into a grin which just got wider in response to Dec’s glare. Killian simply rubbed at his jaw and chuckled. Raphael frowned with real concern and more than a little exasperation. Pushing himself into a more manly position, Dec took a quick inventory. His hands hurt like a bitch, and he saw spots from the sudden bolt of pain through his wrist.
Raphael folded his arms and asked, “What were you thinking? You’re lucky I caught you.”
“Yeah, what were you thinking?” Sean contributed, his smile threatening to hit his ears in another minute.
Killian’s battle with dignity disintegrated into bursts of laughter. After a minute, he wiped his eyes and managed to wheeze, “You should’ve seen the look on your face when you went over. God, it was priceless.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Hilarious. You guys are such assholes.” He didn’t find this funny. Not even a little bit. He was exhausted, in a ridiculous amount of pain, his bladder was probably broken, and he stank. “Get lost so I can chill.” The room tilted, and he snagged a fistful of couch, groaning as the broken bones in his hand ground together. He swallowed bile when his stomach roiled. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. There would be no living that down. Ever.
Obviously taking pity on him, Raphael ordered softly, “Close your eyes, warrior. You need my help.” With that, he placed his palm over Dec’s heart, his touch light, fingers hot.
The effect was immediate and welcome. All of the archangels had the power to heal others, but he was the angel of health. Healing came with a mere thought. Raphael’s energy swarmed into his chest, unfurling across every muscle fiber, every capillary, every cell, burning away the demon’s toxins until he was clean again. A burst of heat whipped through him for a few seconds before cooling to his normal temperature.
Raphael spoke quietly inside his mind. His words and the timbre of his voice were as soothing as his touch. I am cleansing you. Healing you. You are my warrior, my Primani. I have made you, and so I will keep you well. Un vita, Declan.
With a slight twinge of pressure, the bones and tendons in his wrist quickly knitted together, the shocking pain gone. Next, his hand tingled and burned as the hated angel trap was erased, leaving him with fresh, new skin. The process only lasted a few seconds. When he was done, Raphael sat back with a smile, his blue eyes glowing gently with the evidence of his immense power.
“Good as new. Now, tell me what happened.”
The blessings of his maker humbled him. Lowering his chin to his chest, he collected his thoughts before speaking.
“Thank you, Raphael. I am grateful for your care.” He nodded his head with respect before slapping on his bard hat. After relating the bizarre tale of the Marilyn Manson impersonator, the oddly powerful psychedelic drugs, the cocky new demon on the block, Nick, and the C4 strapped to his ass, he sat back and waited for the inevitable barrage of questions from the captivated listeners.
Raphael was the first to speak, his tone pensive. “It seems unusual for a demon to take such actions without a reason. Did he not question you?”
He shook his head, hair brushing his cheeks, and slugged a glass of water before answering. “It’s weird, right? I woke up tied to the friggin’ chair expecting some idiot to torture me.” He smiled ruefully and commented, “Torture me they did, but not for information. I think he just wanted to screw with me.” He shuddered at the memory of the water hose. Torture by full bladder? That was crazy--even for demons.
Killian had been pacing during the last half of the story. His face had that intense, focused expression that he wore whenever he was putting his supercomputer brain to work. Now he stopped and squatted next to the couch where Dec was sitting. “He didn’t ask you anything specific?”
His mind had been clouded with drugs and pain, but nothing came to mind. “Not really. But he was waiting for someone else to show. He kept saying the boss was coming for me, and that he wasn’t allowed to kill me. Wouldn’t give me anything else to go on. I don’t know who the boss was. Nick got pissed when he didn’t show up though. He’d shimmered off to find the guy when you two dropped in.”
Killian studied his nails for a few seconds before pacing again. “I don’t like it. It smacks of turf war. Who’s this Nick? I’ve never heard of him. Grabbing a Primani would give any demon some street cred. With some of the big players out of the way now, it seems we may have some up and comers jockeying for position.”
Sean spoke up. “I’ve still got some underground contacts. I could do some hunting and see what rumors are floating.”
Sean had spent a lot of time undercover as a fallen angel. He’d lived with demons, trained them to fight, and quietly killed them off when no one was paying attention. He’d barely made it out of Hell alive once his cover was blown. That was a few years ago, but his demon contacts still answered when he called. They might be evil, but they were savvy enough to keep their options open. Regime changes were fatal. Sometimes they secretly bargained with Primani for help with exterminating particularly brutal leaders. On the flip side, Primani used them as snitches when they needed to. Personally, he wasn’t thrilled with using demons for info. Duh. They were demons. They lied.
The sun was long gone when Raphael finally stood and stretched his arms over his head. “I think we’ve exhausted the topic of Nick. Sean, go hunting. Killian, get to work on your contacts in Europe. Maybe Gabriel’s team will know more about the demons in Rome. Call
Alexandyr. And Declan,” he paused and flashed a genuine smile, “stay off the roof.”
Everybody’s a comedian. “That’s it? No instructions for me?”
Raphael clapped him on the back, laughing, “You know what to do. You’re my best detective. Go investigate new demons in the area. Oh, and check up on that young woman. I sense she’ll need a protector very soon. Consider her your new charge.” He locked his eyes with Dec’s. “The clock is ticking with that one, though I am unsure what is coming. Watch her, but don’t cling.”
A storm was coming. Thunder grumbled in the distance and lightning flickered through the heavy clouds that swallowed the tops of skyscrapers. In Brooklyn, Mother Nature’s display bounced across the bedroom window like a funky strobe light. The summer heat was smothering everyone and the hot rain wasn’t going to make it better. Tempers were frayed to the breaking point. Rori’s was teetering on the edge. It had been a shitty week.
She sighed like a deflated balloon and started to pull the curtain closed. The thin fabric wasn’t much, but it was the only barrier between her and the perv next door. She was sick and fucking tired of catching him peeping into her bedroom at night. If she was going to put on a strip show, she’d at least go get paid for it! Friggin’ creep!
It was going to be miserable tonight. She stuck her face out of the window and wished for clean, fresh, mountain air. Once upon a time, she’d lived in the country with a mountain view. It was cool, clean, and quiet. She missed it every summer since moving to the city. That tiny slice of rural life was one of her better childhood memories. Karen and James Castle had made her feel welcome and safe. Warm and loving, they had been gentle with her at a time when her world was upside down. She’d had two years with them before a car accident killed them both. That was ten years ago. She’d never lived in the country again. Someday, though…
She rolled her eyes when a few fat drops of rain plopped on her hands. Damn it! Now she’d have to close the frickin’ window! Was it possible to suffocate inside an apartment? She’d sell her soul for an air conditioner right now. A light moved in the shadows on the street down below. Faint, pale yellow, it bobbed like someone carrying a flashlight. She rubbed her eyes and squinted. A clap of thunder shook the building, making her squeak in surprise. When she got her heart out of her mouth, the light was gone.
All lights were gone. Her alarm clock flashed at 12:00. Great. No power. Again. She swiped at a bead of sweat running into her eye. She hated this dump.
As the summer storm raged outside, she tossed and turned, hot and miserable. The light show kept her awake, even after the hookers had gone home. Shoving her tangled mane of hair into a ponytail clip, she groaned at the time on her cellphone. I’ve got to get some sleep! Tomorrow would be a nightmare without sleep. Frustrated to the point of cussing out Mother Nature, her apartment super, and Brooklyn in general, she flung herself onto her back and slammed her eyes closed again. Must sleep! Eventually, exhaustion won out.
He watched her from the window, eyes hidden in shadow, dark, forbidding. With arms crossed over his chest, careful not to touch anything, careful not to leave a trace of his presence, he breathed in her scent. Lush, rich, she smelled of the earth... of green plants and flowers. Inhaling slowly, he let the fragrance settle into his memory, his very bones. Oh yes, she was perfect. She was exactly right. Years of waiting nearly over... he’d found her. He’d proceed carefully. No mistakes this time.
As insubstantial as a sigh, he slipped into her dreams just as she sank into the deepest of sleep. Her mind responded to the images, the scents, and sounds while she lay limp with paralysis. His woman moaned and flung out a delicate hand, clutching at the tangled sheet. Fully under the dream’s pull, she was oblivious to the waking world. And she would stay that way until he decided otherwise. It was time to play.
Hear me, Rori.
Obediently, she opened her eyes to darkness and flickering light. The soft glow soothed her, made her languid and pliant on the bed. Silky sheets caressed her naked skin, slithering around her thighs and over her belly. She was flushed from the heat, damp with sweat.
Close your eyes, Rori.
His voice was compelling... sexy, commanding. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her heart began to race even as she lay limp as a doll.
That’s good. You listen well.
With that compliment, he caressed her jaw, stroking her cheek, teasing her mouth. Her lips parted for his finger, and he smiled in the darkness. Too easy. Positioning her hands above her head, he admired the roundness of her breasts as they thrust forward against the sheet. He glanced at the silk still sliding between her parted legs. With a thought, the silk lay motionless again. He could smell her desire. The spicy fragrance only added to her appeal. Tempting, oh, so tempting she was. Her breasts were small, pert, and creamy smooth. The sight made him want to play a different game tonight. He reached out to stroke her and stopped. He couldn’t be sidetracked now. There were some things more important than his lust.
Like hers.
“Please...”
Ask me nicely.
She nearly flew off the bed when his hot mouth latched onto her breast, sucking her in, stroking her with his tongue. As his mouth worked her nipple in and out, his hand slid to her belly. There was nothing for her but the heat of his body and the fire erupting inside her own. He switched to her other nipple and bit the tip until she arched against him, pulling at her hands. Connected as they were, he felt her fall as the sensations overwhelmed her. So deeply entranced, she couldn’t hear the thunder crashing overhead as he leaned into her face.
“Please, please...”
Please what? Ask me, Rori. Ask for what you want.
“I want you to…”
The shattering of the glass window brought her stumbling out of bed, tripping over a scratchy yellow sheet and falling to her knees. Grabbing at the milk crate for support, she landed in a heap. The storm! Expecting to see a watery mess, she was stunned to find no rain had come in at all. The floor was covered in broken glass though. Great, just great. She picked her way to the window and stopped dead. It wasn’t even storming now. What the hell happened to the window? She glared at the ragged space, daring it to answer her. It didn’t. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she froze.
Chapter 4: The Forecast Calls for Raine
TO KNOCK OR NOT TO KNOCK... that was the question. On one hand, Dec wanted to see her. On the other hand, it was not a good idea. He really, really didn’t need to get involved with a woman right now. Human or otherwise! He’d dragged his sorry butt to the penthouse to have some alone time. He had to take some action if he wanted to stay sane. Dani needed to be exorcised--heartless witch--and he needed to make some plans. Things were changing. He knew he had to find his balance again. A woman was a completely bad idea. Period.
He knew that, sure. But still… he was lonely. He wanted to play, to live. What was the point of life if you didn’t live it? He’d been pondering such deep thoughts for a year now. He had a job to do, true, but he wanted to enjoy this planet too. All work and no play made him a very unhappy Primani. The man inside of him wasn’t too thrilled either. When was the last time he’d gone to a concert? Years? It’d been too long since he’d let himself go. Maybe he should call Rivin and hit New Zealand again. The waves were killer.
Did Rori surf? Had she ever seen the ocean? She’d probably love the water.
A woman was a completely bad idea... Yeah, yeah, he knew that.
But, on the other hand…
Raphael did tell him to keep an eye on her. He should absolutely listen to his maker, right? He was charged with keeping her safe. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to do that in person? As the logical part of his brain argued its points, the rest of him stood across the street, ghosting in the shadows of a dumpster. No one could see him in ghost mode, but he hung back anyway. Force of habit. He didn’t sense any demons, but he hadn’t lived this long by being careless. Who’s this?
A man lurched across the side
walk to his right. He looked so out of place that Dec’s mouth dropped open as he tried to figure out where he’d come from. Buzzed grey hair stuck out from the side of his head like a hedgehog. A faded green field jacket swallowed the man’s scrawny frame while a filthy backpack slid off of one shoulder. It was too hot for a field jacket; the creepy dude had to be roasting. Muttering on his way past Dec’s spot, he hesitated and stared directly into Dec’s invisible blue eyes.
Pointing a trembling finger, he whispered, “Come to save us all? Hurry up before it’s too late!”
What the hell? Can he see me? No way. He must be stoned, hallucinating or something. Dec slipped further into nothing, prepared to bolt if the man made another move.
“Oh, I see you all right. Wadda ya think you are? Invisible?” He rubbed at his stubbly chin and spit on the sidewalk. “You sure did take yer time, didn’t you?”
The sun blinded her as she came around the corner of the Chase Bank building. Digging for her sunglasses, she stepped around one of the many people selling crap on the corners. This man wore dreads and a black Bob Marley concert shirt. Baggy shorts and flip flops completed his look.
“Hey, Rori! You’re not going say hi?”
She slowed and waded back upstream with a smile. Raine. Out of all the street vendors, performers, pick pockets, and homeless people she knew, he was one of her faves. Just as broke as she was, he managed to scrounge a living by selling knock off Rolexes, umbrellas, sunglasses, and whatever else he had. The cheerful red glasses perched on her nose were a gift from him last week. He was kind that way.
“Holy shit, Raine! I didn’t recognize you with your new hair! What the hell did you do?” She gestured at the dreads and grinned.
The last time she’d talked to him, his hair was a floaty blond cloud brushing his shoulders and hiding most of his face. He’d worn it that way for as long as she’d known him. It was wavy and shiny. Honestly, she’d always wanted to drag her hands through it but never had the courage to ask. Now he’d cut his hair to the collar and sported thin, twisted locks. Softer looking than the ones she usually saw, they almost seemed loose, springy… fascinating. Huh... Who knew?
Broken Souls (Primani Book 4) Page 5