by Debra Dunbar
“Come here.” Without waiting, Asta grabbed Wyatt with one hand and dragged him forward so she could touch Dar with her other. In a flash, they left the alley and appeared in Dar’s hotel room. The demon immediately fell to the floor, slamming into an armchair on the way down and dropping the bottle. Wyatt retched and staggered toward the bathroom, banging into the walls along the way.
“What’s wrong with you two? I know demons and humans don’t teleport, but your reactions seem a bit extreme.”
“Damn it all, Asta. Give a demon some warning next time. The room is spinning like a fucking carnival ride.”
Oops. She heard Wyatt vomiting and grimaced. “Sorry guys. We do this pretty much as soon as we’re formed. I guess we’re just used to it.”
“Well, I’m not used to it.” Dar tried to stand and fell sideways into the end table. “Fuck. I might just puke too.”
Asta looked around and helpfully shoved a small garbage can toward the demon. “Here. I don’t know how long Wyatt is going to be in the bathroom.”
Leaving the men to their digestive distress, the angel dropped to her hands and knees and dug under the sofa. There. Nope, that was an empty Heineken. Sheesh, Dar was a total pig.
Ah, the bottle. It was so pretty, all purple and gray with gold swirls and trim. Flicking a finger at the side, she noted how solid it was. Magically unbreakable and stamped with the energy of the demon it had held for so long.
“How fast can you pop that sucker up to Aaru?” Dar had picked himself up off the floor and was rinsing his mouth out with the contents of the mini bar, spitting expensive booze into the trashcan.
“It doesn’t matter.” Asta looked away from him, focusing intently on the bottle. “They turned down my request.”
“So I give the thing to my sister, and she’ll toss it through the wild gate into the fourth circle of Aaru. The bottle dissolves, the demon panics and runs around heaven until the angels take him down. Problem solved.”
“You forget the part where I spend the next two thousand years in rehabilitation as punishment. It doesn’t matter who does it; I’ll end up with the blame.”
“So what do we do with that?” Dar brushed the bottle with his finger.
Asta pursed her lips, turning the bottle over. “Start looking for a mage. We need someone who can get the demon out of here so I can send him back home. That’s pretty much the only option left.”
“If we kill Phelps, we’d have more time to find a magic user. And we wouldn’t have to worry about him stealing the bottle back or making any more wishes in the interim.”
Dar’s voice was hopeful, like a child asking for a treat he knew would be refused. Asta frowned and shook her head. “Nope. We’re not killing Carter.”
“I still think you should ask that Gareth guy or one of his buddies to do it.” Wyatt was a bit more upright as he walked slowly back into the room. “There’s got to be some mage in Hel who would be willing to take a quick trip here.” He turned to Dar. “You can come and go through the gates; just bring one with you, and have him release the genie.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Dar drained a mini of gin and tossed it onto the carpet. “I grab Carter Phelps and Asta transports us here to my hotel room. I duct tape him and torture him until he agrees to use his last wish on something like a really good pad Thai. Asta kills the demon, or sends it to Hel—I don’t really fucking care. Then we drown Phelps in Lake Michigan and make it look like a boating accident.”
Asta and Wyatt both stared at the demon.
“So how quickly can you get a mage here from Hel?” Asta asked. “I’ll look for one here, and whoever can get a mage first, wins.”
“Wins what?” Dar’s eyes glowed with interest.
“Nothing.” She plopped the bottle on the coffee table in exasperation, wincing as it landed more forcefully than she’d intended. “It was just an expression. I’m going with Wyatt’s idea. The great mage hunt is on.”
“Oh, come on! My idea is so much better than his.”
“No, it isn’t. Killing Phelps would cause you to lose your immunity.”
The demon considered that with what looked suspiciously like a pout. “Okay, so I don’t kill him at the end of it all. It’s still the best idea.”
Asta tried for her most intimidating stare, forcing her traitorous mouth to keep from smiling as Dar gave her a charming naughty-boy grin.
Finally the demon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Gareth is out of the question. I’m sure he could do it, but our household is shockingly in debt to him right now. And given a certain political instability in Hel with the elves, high-level magic users are a little scarce.”
He was telling the truth. What was she going to do now? Aaru was out. There would be no cooperation from Phelps now that they’d stolen the bottle and violated any trust he might have. It would take her months of determined Internet searches weeding through dozens of fakes before she found an earthly mage able to release and banish the genie safely—if she managed to find one at all. And she was supposed to return home in a few days, leaving the bottle in the care of another enforcer who might not be as diligent about its safety.
“I’ll take it to Aaru.” Asta was proud her voice didn’t tremble one bit at her decision. She was going back in a few days anyway. And with all the sinning she’d done this week, maybe two thousand years of having the disobedience purged from her soul would be a good thing. No, it would be a horrible thing, but this was the only choice that didn’t have a high probability of innocent casualties associated with it.
“I thought you said they’d torture you.” Dar’s gaze was intent.
“Punish, not torture. It’s intended to return my vibration levels to the correct balance and remind me of the need for order and structure. I’ll be fine.”
Her voice wobbled. Wyatt made a little gasp noise from behind her. Dar’s mouth thinned into a line. Obviously they both knew she wouldn’t be fine at all.
“I’ll make the wishes,” Wyatt volunteered. “I trust you to take care of the genie when he gets out.”
“I can’t let you do that, Wyatt.” Asta turned toward him, smiling in gratitude. “If you had the knowledge and magic to do the protective circle, then maybe. Otherwise, it’s too much of a risk.”
“And my sister would kick my ass if I let her boy toy get ripped to bits by a genie,” Dar added. “Besides, we’d need to kill Phelps for that to work. Right now he’s the owner, and if he’s already triggered the contract by making that first wish, then the genie won’t serve another until he’s dead.”
“See?” She deliberately addressed her comments to Wyatt, unable to let Dar see the dread in her eyes. “Aaru it is. I’ll take care of a few quick things and have this bottle up there by nightfall.”
“Fine.” Dar threw his hands into the air. “I guess I’m going to Hel and selling my soul for a sorcerer. Fuck knows what Gareth is going to charge me for this one. We’re so over a barrel with him that I’ll probably need to carve out a pound of flesh in payment.” He turned to face Asta, and she recoiled involuntarily as he thrust a finger toward her. “You owe me. This is above and beyond the call of duty. I’m saving your ass from heavenly torture. I get something in return.”
He seemed angry, but underneath it was warmth and humor she couldn’t resist. “Another date?”
“A date and more.”
Asta caught her breath, thinking of their make-out session last night, and the wrestling they’d done in the alleyway today. Was that his ‘more’? In spite of her constant repetition that she wasn’t going to have sex with him, part of her hoped that was what he meant.
“I want you to show me your home.”
“Aaru?” He couldn’t mean that. Demons weren’t allowed there. There was no way she could ever take him to Aaru.
“Fuck no. I mean where you stay here in Chicago. There’s got to be some place you store all your fancy clothes, where you hang out when you’re off duty.”
She
was never off duty, but Asta knew exactly what he meant. Her place. That was just as intimate as having sex. “Deal.”
She could do no less. He was sticking his neck out for her, helping her when he had no obligation to. And if he came through, he’d save her from what really would amount to two millennium of torture.
Chapter 15
Dar spent the entire rest of the day frantically trying to score a sorcerer before his date with Asta. Things would go such much better tonight if he could assure her help was on the way from Hel.
As second to the Iblis, the titular leader of the demons, his word alone should cause others to rush to do his bidding. The problem was that no one in Hel really gave a shit about who held the Iblis title, or what his role was in her household. The one sorcerer who was free from elven service was busy and less than excited about racking up one more favor from their household. None of the elves were interested in cooperating with the demons who had made their lives so miserable.
Dar was ready to throw in the towel when he remembered someone. Someone who had the ability to travel from Hel without using the carefully guarded angel gates. He wasn’t a sorcerer and didn’t have any experience in containment of demons, but he was willing to give it a shot for the right price. Negotiations had been tough, but they’d come to an agreement, and the mage would be in Dar’s hotel room by morning. Which gave him the whole evening to spend with an angel.
Asta had given him an address and time. He’d dressed carefully in his favorite of the stolen suits and picked up sashimi and a nice bottle of unfiltered sake. And now he stood before the locked doors, looking up along an endless expanse of glass and steel. It was late. All the office workers had gone home for the night. The residents who owned the condos on the top five floors must use key cards to gain entrance in the off hours. Not that a demon had any problem with a locked door.
Energy snaked through the electronic locks and he was in, the light illuminating via sensors as he walked through the hallways. Thankfully the elevators didn’t require any special codes, as he wasn’t sure his abilities extended to feats of mechanical engineering. The elevator lurched up, nearly dropping Dar’s stomach into his feet. Eighty-two stories, and the elevator opened on the top floor. There were six doors, spaced for privacy, in a square around the elevator lobby. Asta’s was number four.
He knocked briefly, swung the door open, and was amazed to find himself in a giant closet.
That was the only way to describe it. Rows of clothing hung neatly on racks suspended from the ceiling and bolted to the walls. A few dresses were displayed on mannequins. Shoes, purses, hats, and scarves filled the wooden shelves that lined every free wall. There were no sofas, no chairs—nothing except clothing and accessories. Dar felt fairly certain that if he wandered into the bedroom or bathroom, he’d find the same. It seemed excessive, even compared to demon standards, but given she’d been here for a hundred years, the volume of clothing and accessories was fairly reasonable. It was a long time to compile a wardrobe.
“Where’s the sexy lingerie?”
He heard a laugh and spun about to see Asta peering at him from behind a row of brightly colored pleather pants. “I’m an angel; why would I have need for sexy lingerie?”
“Why would an angel have need for ugly plastic trousers?”
She stepped around the pants, hips swaying as she approached in jeans and a white oxford shirt. This was the most casual she’d ever been attired—and the most relaxed he’d ever seen her. His usually perfectly put-together angel looked just as gorgeous with high-top sneakers and her hair in a mess of loose brown curls as she did in her designer suits and dresses.
“I’ll have you know those pants were all the rage in the early 90s. I haven’t had the heart to get rid of them.” She looked around fondly. “I haven’t had the heart to get rid of anything.”
And that told him exactly what he’d suspected from the moment he’d nearly knocked her over as she had pressed her nose against the bakery window. “You love it here, among the humans. I always thought you angels suffered your service as part of the Grigori, longing for the moment you could return home.”
“Most do. I’m just more susceptible, I guess. I shouldn’t have taken this assignment at my age, but I was so eager to prove myself. You don’t know what it’s like always being considered the baby, having a fraction of the skill and abilities of everyone around you.”
Dar smiled. “All those other angels are too afraid to risk their purity by leaving Aaru. You’re gutsy enough to give it a try.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Trust me; it’s not guts. Down here I’m powerful. And I like the humans. They face such challenges in their short lives, and the majority of them show amazing courage and morality. I’m happy to protect them.”
“And steal their clothing?” Dar swept a hand to encompass the mind-boggling volume of outfits.
Guilt flashed across the angel’s face. “I reimburse them in some fashion—sort of a barter system. And they’re not all human-made. Quite a few are my own efforts at copies—very poor efforts, I’ll admit.”
“Let’s see some of these efforts. Model for me.” Dar looked in vain for a place to sit, finally plopping down on one of the few bare spots of floor.
“I’m not modeling for you.” Asta’s laugh was tinged with embarrassment. “But here. I made this one.”
Holy shit. It was a 1950s fitted wiggle-dress with alternating panels of dark and light leopard print. The top would have hugged her bust like a second skin, pushing her breasts up like a corset, the wide straps accenting the vast amount of skin exposed across her chest and shoulders. The slides were slightly ruched, which would give the tantalizing effect that the dress was working its way up her body. She spun the dress on the hanger, and Dar caught a glimpse of a sizable slit up the back.
“Put it on.” His voice rasped as he imagined her in it, imagined him taking it off her. “Please?”
“No!” She turned from him, obviously flustered. “It’s not right. I couldn’t get the gathering quite even, and I couldn’t wear it without fear of falling out the top.”
And now Dar was wild with the image of Asta having a nip slip as they dined. She’d bend over to snare a piece of sushi just out of reach, and rose-tinted brown would peek above the top of the dress. Good thing he was sitting down, because he was hard as a rock just thinking about it. If he’d been standing, Asta could have hung a few of her outfits from his erection.
“It’s one more thing I’m less than skilled at.” Her voice was sad. Dar’s heart ached as she turned to hang the dress back on the rack.
“Bullshit. You’re skilled; you’re just not perfect. No one is, not even those saintly angels up in Aaru who are older than dirt. Do you like it? Do you like creating these clothes?”
“Yes.” Her expression was puzzled as she walked over and sat beside him. “I love how the humans express themselves through their attire. It’s artistic; it reflects an inner mood. Clothing is the paint on your body’s canvas.”
Her words gave Dar an idea. “This body you’ve created for yourself—it’s your art. It’s perfect. Others may create the paint that adorns it, but you’ve created the canvas, and your skill at that is beyond any angel’s I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Sighing, she reached out to finger a cashmere peacoat. “It’s a shame I’ll have to leave all this behind. Neither my paint or my canvas will come with me to Aaru when I return.”
“Well, that’s a long way off.” Dar laughed. “You’ll need to rent the whole floor before you leave at the rate you’re shoplifting.”
For once his reference to her larceny didn’t get the usual response. Instead, she frowned, her eyes troubled. “I’m leaving in two days. My service was for a century, and it’s up.”
Breathe. Breathe. Dar’s heart seemed to have dropped down around his shoes, and the room narrowed to a pinpoint. She was leaving in two days? Two days? That’s all he had before she’d vanish from his life fo
rever? Gone were the thoughts of tempting her into sex as some kind of conquest. He wanted more than just a conquest, more than just sex. Two days?
Snap out of it and think of something, his rat-brain commanded. “The mage is coming tomorrow morning, but there’s still a chance this genie issue won’t be resolved before you’re due to leave. You wouldn’t fly back to Aaru leaving unfinished business, would you? You wouldn’t expect some poor new enforcer to take over in the middle of this?”
The angel shook her head, dark corkscrew curls bouncing. “It’s not my decision. I’ve asked for an extension, asked for another century of service, but I get the impression it will be denied.”
This couldn’t be happening to him. “Go rogue. Refuse to leave, or sneak back from Aaru. Other angels have done it; you can too.”
The longing on her face twisted him up inside. “I want to. Trust me; I love it here. I love the humans.” A faint smile quirked up a corner of her mouth. “I love macarons and purple wine at Stanley’s. I love flying down Michigan Avenue, and karaoke. I love kissing a certain demon in a dark alley, feeling him up against a smelly dumpster.”
His insides felt like they’d shriveled to dust. “Then why are you leaving?” He meant to ask ‘why are you leaving me?’ but that last word wouldn’t come.
“I want to stay, but I can’t help but second-guess myself. Has my time here warped my sense of judgment? Have I l forgotten the joys I felt back home? The longer I stay here, the farther I stray from Aaru. I fear I’m becoming less of an angel and more of a demon.”
Dar felt a foreign sense of shame. Was it so bad to be a demon? It’s not like he had any choice in the matter of how he’d been born. But Asta’s words seemed to indicate she thought nurture ruled over nature in a being’s moral foundation. “Would any experience change you from the angel you are? Are we demons because of Hel, and you’re an angel because of Aaru? Do you think the fall is what caused us to be as we are? You’re not one of the angels who believe we had these demonic traits before we left Aaru?”