Her Black Heart (The Dark Amulet Series Book 2)

by A. J. Norris

  Christ!

  Like he had time for this.

  He palmed his throwaway cell and dialed Maurice’s number on the way toward the exit.

  “Tell me you have good news,” his boss said. The man spoke with a British accent.

  “Job’s done.” Bryant opened the door to the outside. The sky was beginning to lighten over the low-rise buildings up the street. The smell of the earlier rain mixed with the city’s ambient scent of car fumes and breakfast from the McDonald’s on the corner.

  “Good. And the thing I asked for? You do have it?”

  “Yeah, ‘bout that…” Bryant sniffed.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to collect first, if you know what I mean?” Bryant grinned. His plan to make sure he got full payment this time was brilliant.

  “I do. Hmm. I’m not sure you’re in the position you think you are in to be making this type of demand.”

  “Well, seeing how I got what you want—”

  “What I want is irrelevant.”

  Bryant’s eyebrows came together tightly and he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Only thirty yards stood between Bryant and his Egg McMuffin.

  “You see, my associate, I’ve been watching you.”

  “Bullshit.” The English bastard had to be bluffing. Bryant was always careful.

  Maurice chuckled. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Here’s what you’re going to do; you’re going to bring me what I asked for and I might decide to honor our agreement.”

  “And if I don’t play by your rules?”

  Another stuffy laugh assaulted Bryant’s ear before the line went dead. He lost his appetite.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Julia

  Why am I still running?

  No one had followed Julia out of the restaurant. Aza was running next her. With his fists clenched, he pumped his arms. She tried not to think about him as anything other than a demon, but the girly girl in her spied the bulky biceps that filled out and stretched the t-shirt he wore. The cotton clung tightly to his body. Where had he found those clothes?

  She slowed to a walk at the corner of Woodward and Nine. They needed a place to crash for the rest of the night and possibly the whole entire next day. Julia deduced Bryant wouldn’t have left town knowing she’d died without any witnesses who cared to point accusations at him. By now, the idiot may have already handed off her necklace to Maurice for payment anyway. She hated Maurice. He’d tried to have her killed once before and failed. Aza had saved her at that campsite her family used to vacation at every summer. Julia knew those woods and felt safe there.

  “We are stopping now?” the demon asked.

  “Uh…tired…I need to sleep…am I…?”

  I’m dead, why do I need sleep…or food?

  Julia doubled over at the waist and panted. Her hand came up to point at the motel across the street.

  Aza looked where she pointed. “What is it? What do you see?”

  “A…motel,” she said between gasps.

  Julia paid the fifty-five dollars for the room, cash up front. Her feet and lungs hurt too much to care. They trudged up the stairs to the second floor room. A hot shower followed by a massive snooze-fest awaited her beyond the door. She opened the door, stepped inside, and was rewarded with a shocking vomit-inducing mismatched color scheme—red, orange, green, and oh-my-God-mauve.

  Aza sat on the edge of the double bed and bounced up and down, smoothing his hands over the ugly striped bedspread.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Why not?” He picked his hands up and examined the palms, turning them from side to side, this way and that.

  She snorted quietly. “It’s just, I’m not sure they always wash the comforter every time they change the sheets.”

  “Sheets?”

  Oh, for God’s sakes, really?

  She ripped the corner of the bedspread out from under the mattress and flipped the burgundy and green rag over. “See? Sheets. Got it? I’m taking a shower.”

  “By shower, do you mean falling water?”

  Julia’s eyes glazed over.

  Jesus. Christ.

  She stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

  The metal rings screeched against the rod when she pulled the shower curtain over. She leaned in and turned on the water. Her clothes weren’t as dirty as she’d thought. She’d managed to avoid the spilled blood out in the back of the Senior Center. There was a slight old egg smell, but nothing too toxic. Shoplifting some new clothes would happen sometime tomorrow. She took her clothes off and laid them on the puke yellow laminate countertop, next to the sink with a metal beauty ring around the perimeter. Clear plastic bottles that looked like they were filled with Pert shampoo and cheap bar soap samples sat in the corner of the vanity. She set them on the lip of the tub and stepped in the shower with her panties on so she could wash them.

  Julia was amazed by the water pressure. She cleaned every inch and her underwear before getting out of the tub. Would the demon like a shower? Or would he freak again if something touched his skin? She shook her body. “Don’t touch me,” she mocked him under her breath. Gawd.

  After wrapping a towel around her body and securing the corner, she ran her fingers through her wet hair. Julia emerged from the steamy bathroom. Aza was pacing the floor.

  “What are you doing now?” she asked. He stopped and looked at his feet. She skated past him, careful not to come into contact with him. “I’m done in the bathroom, if you want to take a shower. There’s soap and—”

  Aza grunted and disappeared into the bathroom. She held her breath and waited for him to ask for help. When the shower came on, the volume of her exhale surprised her. First she was annoyed with everything he didn’t understand or know about Earth and now she was irritated he knew how to do something. She made a note to ask him how he knew how to turn on the shower.

  Julia yanked the rest of the covers out from underneath the mattress—hospital corners were so constricting. The towel dropped to the floor next to the side of the bed near her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the lamp attached to the headboard. The digital clock read 2:12 AM.

  Jeez, no wonder I’m so tired.

  Her murder and all the jogging she’d done tonight was enough to exhaust even a marathon runner. She yawned and pulled the sheet over her body. As soon as she laid her head down on the pillow, her eyes drooped. A change in the ambient sound in the room made her eyes snap open. The bedside lamp still shone.

  Good! Lord!

  Aza came out of the bathroom. Naked.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Aza’zel

  “You know there are more towels in the bathroom?” Julia asked.

  “I know. I used one to dry off.” Aza glanced at the floor next to the side of the bed she laid on. He knew she was naked because the clothes she’d worn were hung on the hook behind the bathroom door. He pictured her creamy skin underneath the thin bed covering. Her breasts created white mounds under the sheet. The demon licked and parted his lips. He tried conjuring up images of her as the innocent child in the meadow, but all he could think about was her rounded hips.

  No. No. No. Stupid goat.

  Blood surged below his waist and Julia’s eyes popped. His face flushed and he pivoted away from her gaze. He wanted to kick Deus’ ass the next time he saw the Creator. The state his body was in didn’t make him feel badly but his chest ached. He brushed his hand over his heart then looked down at what he was doing. He dropped his hand.

  “Um, what are you doing?”

  His breath came out in short bursts. “Noth…ing.”

  “Okay, good, because I could’ve sworn you had an erection.”

  Gaaah.

  Aza pushed his penis down but the bastard bobbed. Why wouldn’t the thing go away? He shoved hard this time; it wouldn’t stay down. He grabbed at himself, crushed his fist around the genitalia, and wound up on the floor with his hands on his
groin. He coughed and nearly puked a couple of times. “Fuck!” How had he gotten on the floor so quickly?

  Julia giggled. “Did you hurt yourself there?”

  He moaned.

  “You’re so weird,” she said, shaking her head.

  Aza vowed to never mess with his testicles again no matter what was going on down there.

  She sighed. “Did that honestly hurt that much?”

  “Yes,” he groaned.

  “Well, seems like you guys make that shit up. Try having menstrual cramps or giving birth. I hear that’s some real pain…”

  She rattled on and on about the sensitive subject while Aza struggled to his knees. He managed to get over to the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on the mattress, his reddened face buried in his hands.

  “I’ve heard men have a lower threshold for pain than women. I had my throat slashed and I didn’t get all crazy and act like I was going to throw up.”

  Aza snorted. She’d obviously never experienced the kind of agony he just went through. He’d believe it if someone told him that he’d fainted.

  “Throat slit? Please. Try having your horns snapped off at the bone.”

  “Ouch, that sounds painful.”

  “It was.”

  “Always wondered what happened to them. I remember them being really short when we first met.”

  Aza lifted his head and saw Julia had laid her head back on the bed, her hair splayed out on the pillow. He finally found he could stand and rose to his full height. The slender column of her throat came into view. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth. And his damn penis went rigid again. He huffed out a breath and swore under his breath.

  “What now?” Her head lolled to the side. “Oh, that’s right, nothing,” she muttered and rolled onto her side toward the middle of the bed.

  He could feel her eyes on him so he pivoted and faced the wall. Gently this time, he tapped himself, willing the bastard to calm the hell down.

  Julia chuckled. “What are you, playing with yourself now? Lay down and quit being silly.”

  His penis jumped from a surge of blood. She wanted him to lay down with her? Maybe he should sleep on the floor. “I’m, I’m just gonna stay down here. On the floor.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said. Aza caught the pillow she tossed at him.

  The floor was covered in an orange abrasive fuzz, similar to fur though not pleasurable on the skin. He couldn’t get comfortable and rolled around until he found a position on his side. He laid his head on the edge of the pillow and took a deep breath.

  “Oh, what is, ewww,” he grumbled. The scent reminded him of a sweaty asshole. While the demon had smelled some disgusting odors in his lifetime, he’d never been forced to sleep in it. Hmm…this was as much a surprise to him as the revelation. He’d actually been treated decently for a goat demon in Netherworld.

  “Floor stinks, huh?”

  Aza coughed and sat up. “Yeah,” he eked out.

  “You can sleep up here if you don’t mind the smell of bleach.” She patted the bed next to her.

  Anything would better than the stench of the floor. After he settled on the mattress, Aza stared up at the ceiling. The light was switched off. Julia sighed softly a few times then her breathing changed, an indication she’d fallen asleep. They never discussed their next move, only that she knew where Bryant lived.

  He turned onto his side and faced Julia. The sheet around her had shifted down some, revealing the tops of her breasts. The demon could see well in the dark. His quarters in Netherworld were dimly lit. As out of place as he felt, he preferred Earth to his home realm. To say he didn’t miss it would be an understatement. He never wanted to go back there.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. Most of the goats left their hair long. Aza had been yanked into Abaddon’s harem room once by the hair. The Demon Ruler’s females groped him, pulled on his body parts, making them grow larger. He’d felt so out of control. A part of him liked the pleasure and the other part of him was scared. Afterward, he ran to his sleeping chamber and scrubbed his skin raw with porous lava rocks. And cut his hair.

  Julia rolled over to her other side. The sheet rode down so he could see most of her backside. A low groan left his throat. He clamped his hand over his mouth. He had to stop looking at her. He put the pillow at the other end of the bed and curled his body around it.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Julia

  This is so weird.

  Julia sat on the edge of the bed she’d shared with a demon. A demon. And not some ordinary dastard but an unbelievably hot one. She looked over her shoulder. Aza was still asleep, his large, muscular body curled around a pillow. Good God, he was tightly ripped.

  Julia thought about how he looked the first time she’d seen him in the woods all those years ago. His skin had been red then. She remembered their conversation perfectly from the second meeting ten years ago, right before school had let out for summer vacation and they’d finished up a brief unit on Greek Mythology. She’d dumbly hoped Aza was the god, Pan, a forest dwelling musician. Her mind left out the part of the imp being a womanizer. However, at eight years old, she wasn’t thinking about that.

  “I know who you are,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, you’re Pan. The god of—”

  “No I’m not, go away.”

  “Uh huh, I’ve been reading about you in school.”

  “Doubt you’ve read about…me!”

  “I-I’m not s-scared of you, Pan.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about; I’m not this Pan you’re—”

  “Yes you are,” she crossed her arms, “goat feet, furry legs, only…where do you keep your pan flute?”

  “Pan? Flute?”

  “What’s that around your neck? It’s pretty.”

  Then her mother came and ruined everything. Luckily for Julia, Aza left his magic amulet as a present for her. Now he wanted the necklace back so it could be destroyed. She wasn’t going to let that happen, but first she needed him to help her get the token back. By now, Maurice might already have possession of it. She ran her hands down her face.

  The demon groaned and sat up abruptly.

  “Bad dream?” she asked.

  He huffed and cupped his junk with one hand, clearly annoyed by his morning stiffness. “I’m fine, Julia. Just forgot where I was for a moment.”

  “What’s it like, your world?” She wrapped the sheet around her torso better before turning to face him properly.

  He looked down. “I can’t talk to you like this, right now.” Aza stood and shook his legs out. He perched on the edge of the mattress.

  He had an amazing ass.

  She smirked at herself; she was just supposed to use him to find her lucky charm, the necklace he gave to her. “Am I really dead?” The question surprised her.

  “Julia, you are…” He sighed.

  “Why do I hear a ‘but’ coming?”

  “What? I dunno what you mean.”

  Julia looked to the ceiling. “It means I’m dead, but it’s not as easy as that.”

  “Oh.” He cocked his head to the side. “It depends on what happened right before or right after your death.”

  “What do you mean right before or right after?”

  “What kind of a life did you have before your death?”

  “Um,” she sucked air in between her teeth, “I didn’t do so well in life. I fucked up pretty bad.”

  He leveled his stare on her over his shoulder. “How did you die?”

  “I told you that—”

  “Yes. Yes. But what happened afterward?”

  “Well, I didn’t see a bright light if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He shook his head. “What bright light? Did you see anything?”

  “Ah, only a horned…beast.”

  “What did he say to you? Did he touch you?”

  “He kissed me and it was disgusting. He tasted like an ashtray
.”

  Aza snorted. “Ass tray.”

  “No,” she giggled. “Ashtray.” They chuckled for a minute. A dead human and a demon.

  So damn weird.

  “Anyway, the creature started killing a bunch of cops and I stopped him.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “He just let you think that. Believe me.”

  “So now what, I’m stuck roaming the Earth?”

  Aza shrugged.

  “What’s that mean?” She mimicked his shoulder shrugging.

  “It means I’m not sure what will happen now that you’ve been poisoned.”

  Her eyes went round. “What? How did I get poisoned and how do I get rid of it?”

  “His kiss, and only he can remove his venom.”

  “God. Dammit.” She rose from the bed, pulling the sheet off with her, and paced the room.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Amalya

  Amalya loathed when Virgil the Redeemer, micromanaged her dishwashing. The angel lived with her and her mate. “You know, I know how to wash a plate.” She stressed the “T” on the end of the word plate.

  “I know that but—”

  “You do? Then why are you hovering over me?” Amalya stomped her feet.

  “Fine, I’ll stop being helpful then,” Virgil said and left the kitchen.

  She blew out a breath. When was Elliott going to be home? He had a way of dealing with the other angel that left her mystified. She picked up the last dish to be washed and the bowl slipped through her soapy hands into the stainless steel sink with a loud clink.

  Virgil appeared behind her. “What’s happened?”

  She sighed heavily. “Nothing, the bowl fell into the sink. Don’t you have a hobby or something you could do?”

  “No. But I’m hoping to have a task assigned to me soon.”

  Thank God.

  Redeemer angels completed tasks for Deus, the Creator of All Life. They involved helping individuals overcome a crossroad in their lives. Amalya, Elliott, and Virgil were all Redeemers. Elliott had texted her several hours ago that he was finishing up his latest assignment and would be home this morning. She missed him.