by Michele Hauf
Everything about her was different from the women he had known so long ago.
Ashur had been in fine palaces of marble and stone. This one was similarly luxurious, though on a smaller scale. The decorations were elaborate and resembled flowers and curved leaves. The style pleased him. Lights on the walls were not torches, but contained within fine glass. Remarkable.
He must not question the changes in the world since he’d been Beneath. To do so would surely drive him mad. So he would simply accept them. Easy enough when he had greater things with which to concern himself.
Six opened a steel container lighted inside and which boasted an array of vegetables. The food storage box, he guessed. She took out a clear container and offered one to him, which he accepted. He watched her twist off the cover and drink from it.
Ashur tried it. Water in a bottle. Convenient.
“I know a thing or two about angels,” she said. And then as a challenge, she offered, “Does that disturb you?”
Ashur strolled through the room he labeled the galley and into a vast room with plush divans and chairs. Huge ferns and small decorative trees in pots gushed from every corner. The walls were floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city was remarkable, and he walked up to scan the buildings and tiny spots of people below.
“No,” he replied. Because whatever she thought she knew was wrong.
“Then you’re the first who is not troubled by it,” she said, joining him. “I’ve been dreaming about angels all my life.”
He turned to find her gazing out the window, a small smile curving her lips.
“I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen,” she said. “To finally have proof. To know that what I know is not delusional.”
Ashur sighed. Though he’d no protocol on how to interact with the muse, he did not think lying or avoiding the situation wisest. She needed to know the facts—which were undoubtedly far from her idea of the truth.
“Proof? Is that so?”
“Yes,” she said on a wondrous hush.
“Well, let me tell you about the Fallen. They once walked the earth, yet were removed many millennia ago, during Noah’s flood. Recently, though, Fallen ones have been conjured by ceremonial magic. Others are investigating who is behind the conjuring. That is not my concern. So now Fallen walk the earth, their mission renewed as they seek their muse.”
“I’ve read the book of Enoch. It’s about the angels called the Watchers, or Grigori, falling.”
“Was that book chosen to be included in the Bible? I’ve not been around since Constantine’s time.”
Fascination brightened her eyes. Ashur wondered briefly if they had color.
“No,” she answered, “that book was suppressed in the middle ages, and ruled fantasy. Pseudepigraphal. You’ve been alive that long?”
“Yes. But back to the Fallen. And you. You wear the sigil he seeks.”
“Seriously?” She stroked the skin near the mark on her forearm. “Numbers? What wiseass thought that one up?”
“Yours is the first number I’ve seen. They are symbols unique to the angelic dominions. It is a good means to locating a match.”
“And I’m that angel dude’s match?”
“You are a muse. Whether or not you are a match is something I do not know.”
“Well, if I’m not a match…”
“If the Fallen has already claimed his match, he can then seek other muses.”
“A muse. I thought muses were gorgeous women who inspired artists, and all that.”
“You inspire the Fallen to seek you.”
She leaned in the archway between the two rooms, tall and slender. The thin fabric shirt did little to conceal the gorgeous curves beneath. Curves Ashur assumed would feel exquisite to touch.
Touch? It teased at his memory. Her hand against his chest, clinging as they rode through the city. There was that want again.
And yet the desire was accompanied by a twinge across his back. Flesh-stripping ghosts of violence. A violence so dark and rending it had brought him, the Stealer of Souls, to his knees.
Inspecting the gash above her eyebrow with a finger, Six winced. That was enough to distract Ashur from his fall into wicked memory.
“I can heal that for you,” he offered.
“Really?”
He approached her, holding out his hand in offering. Surprisingly lacking in concern, she nodded and he placed it above her eye, not touching the flesh. The intense wave of her body heat pulsed against his palm. Mortal warmth. Another experience he had forgotten. An experience he’d had tortured out of him. Now he used that connection and focused his own inner healing salve to emanate outward. Within moments the cut healed.
She smoothed a finger over her brow. “Wow. You actually did it. And when you took the blade from me, and it flew through the air… You have powers. What are you?”
As new as the world was to him, he did know to keep some things to his chest. “If it is important to label me, then you may call me angel slayer.”
She lifted a beautifully arched brow. Ashur turned toward the view again. He should not waste time admiring her beauty.
“A slayer. Of angels?” She exhaled, and her breath touched Ashur’s black heart. He suppressed a shiver. “That’s sort of sad.”
He tilted a curious look to her. No, her breath hadn’t touched his heart. That organ was hard and black and impervious to everything.
“I mean, well, first reaction is it’s sad,” she said, unaware of his struggles. “But like I said, I know about angels. They’re not all fluffy and full of grace. The fallen ones are downright evil. I suppose someone has to take care of the bad ones.”
“The Fallen are lacking in grace and compassion. It’s dangerous to have a soulless angel walking the earth,” he said. “They have little concern for their actions, and are focused only on finding their muse. I am surprised you say you wish to speak to one.”
“That might have been my excitement talking. He really wants to find me? What for?”
“Now that the Fallen one has been conjured, it resumes its original intention upon falling. I am not familiar with how many millennia have passed since the original fall. Then, two hundred angels fell to earth to mate with human females.”
“I’m familiar with that story.”
“It seeks its muse.”
“That’s the part I’m not familiar with.”
“Once the Fallen finds his muse, he will mate with her in hopes of creating a nephilim. They are carnivorous, blood-hungry giants. It’s the beginning to a plague of dark divinity. You, Six, are to give birth to the end of the world as you know it.”
“Is that all?” She forced a chuckle, but he sensed it was just that: a constructed means to temper the shock. He was quickly learning her emotions. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d spent so much time with her already, or if he were taking on the world’s feelings.
“Have an angel’s baby?” Six’s eyelids fluttered. “I, uh, I think I need to sit down.”
Halfway to the plush, cushioned chair placed before a marble hearth, she wobbled. Ashur crossed the room and caught her as she fainted.
Standing with her fey weight draping his arms, he again felt the tap at his black heart. It was more than a squeeze. This time it felt as though the hardened muscle actually pulsed.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. Had to be the souls trapped within his heart. On occasion they made their presence known to him.
He should ditch the muse and seek the Fallen one. Thing was, keeping her close to him was the best way to lure Zaqiel to him. But no Fallen would approach a Sinistari willingly.
How to bait this trap?
Chapter 4
Eden came to with a start. She sat up on a delicately crocheted bedspread. Her bed. The iron lamp curved to resemble a lotus flower on the nightstand glowed over her stack of artist’s color charts. “How’d I get here? Who—?”
Reality rushed upon her like a tsunami wave and she top
pled against the pillow, but this time she didn’t faint—because a man stood in her bedroom doorway. Tall, dark and confused, he was the most appealing thing she’d seen in months.
“You fainted,” he offered.
“No kidding? Whew!” Eden sat up and smoothed down her shirt. “It’s been a day, hasn’t it?” She glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling window, which looked out over Central Park. It was dark, yet the city’s innate glow beamed upward. The clock verified it was almost eleven. “How long have I been out?”
“A few hours. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That was kind of you. After what I’ve been through—”
“It gave me time to walk the layout of your home.”
“Oh. So it wasn’t concern. You needed to case the joint. Find anything you want?”
“I have no intent to steal from you, my lady. Though I did find this in a kitchen drawer.” He waved a small stack of one-hundred-dollar bills before him. “I may need some cash while I’m here on earth. Mind if I take it?”
“You just said you don’t steal.”
“I’m asking. Thieves do not ask.”
“Yes, whatever. Take it if you need it. It’s the petty cash I leave for my maid, Rosalie, to pick up things. I’ll replenish it tomorrow.”
Eden reached to scratch her forearm and Ashur dove onto the bed, grabbing her hand and trapping it against his chest. His body so close to hers had her heartbeat tripping. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more frightened by a stranger’s presence—and more intrigued.
Looking away, he released her arm and slid off the bed. “Don’t scratch,” he said. “Not until I give you the go-ahead. Forgive me, my impropriety overwhelms the need for your protection.”
“I understand.” Actually she didn’t understand a thing. Exhaustion had tapped her neurons to the core.
Shoving her forearm between her thighs didn’t quell the need to scratch. “I think I’ll take a shower. I feel like crap after today’s adventure. Maybe the water will relieve the itch. Is that okay? You’re not going to stand guard outside the bathroom, are you?”
“I dare not. I will wait for you out in the main quarters.”
“That would be the living room.”
“Appropriately named. Please come find me when you feel ready. We have much to discuss.”
Soon as the door closed, Eden stripped off her blouse and skirt and made a beeline for the bathroom. The glass-walled shower was her favorite place to escape the real world. Sound was muffled in here and the only sensation was the pressure of water upon her skin.
She always headed straight to the shower after a day spent at a charity event or amongst a crowd. Most people thought she had it all being rich. She wouldn’t knock it, but having it all did not imply material wealth to her. All was something ineffable that could only fit into her heart.
The hot water rinsed away the dirt and shivers but it didn’t chase away the subtle tingling where the angel had licked her.
“An angelkiss,” Eden muttered as she dried herself off with a thick terry-cloth towel, being careful to avoid the mark. “And he’s after me because he wants to get busy with me? I don’t want to have sex with a bad angel and become the mother of the apocalypse.”
Resting her palms on the marble vanity, she took a couple of deep yoga breaths to settle her growing tension. Water from her hair dripped down her arms and puddled on the floor. Her reflection echoed how tired she was. Rarely did she get shadows under her eyes like tonight.
But it was more than that.
If Ashur had told her the truth, she was in deep trouble. How did she dare escape an angel? Zaqiel possessed supernatural abilities, as she’d already seen. She was no match. And her only choice was to trust the man who called himself an angel slayer. What was that exactly? Was he human?
Had she garnered her own personal guardian angel?
“I hope so.” Because she didn’t want the white-haired guy getting close enough to lick her again. And if he had his way, he’d get close enough to have sex with her.
It had been over a year since she’d shared her body with a man. That had ended disastrously. And yet she had been able to put that event on a shelf only recently, and had begun dating again. Dating, but still no sex. Not that she didn’t want it.
But what she craved now was something entirely different than she was accustomed to dating.
Like a sexy, rock-hard-abs guardian angel.
He was the opposite of everything she’d ever found sexy in a man. Pure muscle and might. Commanding. And a bit arrogant, too. And she wanted it all.
Damn.
Dressing in black silk pajama bottoms and top, Eden wanted to crawl between the sheets and lose herself in her dreams, but she didn’t think Ashur had left. She slipped on her marabou slippers and clicked out to the living room.
He sat on the couch, back straight and body tight as if he didn’t dare relax. A potted aloe vera plant sat on his lap. She almost laughed, until he sprang up and his eagerness startled her.
“Aloe Barbadensis,” he said, thrusting the pot toward her. “It is an ancient plant for healing. I marvel you have such. It is good the plant has survived the ages. You can put it on the angelkiss.”
The plant was used to relieve itching and rashes, but Eden had never had the need to try it. Todd had given it to her. Despite the lush acreage of plants she kept in the apartment she had furnished in the Art Nouveau style, he’d decided she needed something more functional, and with spines. Todd was always trying to get her to reveal her inner vixen. He’d certainly growl over Ashur.
“Try it,” Ashur prompted. He broke off the tip of a thick leaf, and set down the pot. Squeezing the cool liquid from inside the plant, he stroked it across her flesh and spoke quietly. “The women wear trousers now.”
“Pants, yes.” He’d said he was new to this world.
“I intend to learn all tonight. While you sleep I will walk the world and assimilate its speech, customs and ways.”
“The whole world? You’d better have some comfortable shoes.”
He tilted his head, wondering at her.
“A joke.”
“That word is not in my knowledge.”
“You’ll understand after you’ve assimilated, I’m sure.” She inspected the glob of clear aloe on her arm. It did quell the desire to scratch.
“So I really do need to sleep. I thought I was exhausted after worrying about the gallery showing for a week, but being chased by an angel tops that. Will I be okay all alone? If the angel found me earlier, why can’t he find me now?”
“You haven’t scratched the angelkiss?”
“No.”
“Then you should be safe. The beacon is only activated with irritation. When you scratch you send out a signal only the Fallen can track.”
“Like pheromones?”
“I do not know that word, either.”
She nodded. “It’s an attraction thing innate in all of us.” And, man, was she feeling it right now.
“Attraction. Like lust?”
“Exactly.” The corner of his mouth curled. Eden had to consciously warn herself against touching the crease. Damn, they were making rescuing knights attractive these days. “So, you don’t know things? I suppose not, if you’ve been out of touch for so long.”
“I knew things, and then that knowledge was taken from me through time and— It is not important. Perhaps you should wrap a bandage about your forearm to keep it from brushing against the bed linens. Would you like me to stay and watch over you while you sleep?”
“No, uh…no. I’m a big girl.” A handsome man leaning over her while she slept? Talk about a fantasy! “No, that’s not a good idea. I don’t know you. You staying the night would be major awkward.”
He shrugged. Obviously he didn’t know. “I will return in the morning. Sleep well, Six.”
He strode toward the front door, leaving Eden wishing she could call him back, but not daring to speak the words.
Or maybe, just maybe, she was in the best frame of mind she’d been in for years.
Angels?
Finally.
The night moved swiftly through his brain, the world even faster. Ashur walked in a hurried pace innate to the Sinistari—they termed it flashing—from New York to California and then on to Japan, Russia, France, Africa and all the countries in between.
He listened to voices speaking, observed the customs, tasted the food, watched the transportation and analyzed the education. Knowledge permeated the costume of mortal flesh he wore and insinuated into his steel marrow.
The palette of sin the world offered had grown immeasurably since his last stay on earth.
In Las Vegas Ashur learned the pleasures of gambling. He stole a fine pair of sunglasses out of an Aston Martin in Madrid then took the car for a joyride. He inhaled opium in a dark, musty cave in Andalusia with the locals, and learned to fire an AK-47 at a wall of broken bottles outside a Palestinian army base.
Fast food in Berlin awakened his palate to the strangely tasty idea of processed food. Gluttony led him to a Chipotle restaurant three times during the night, each time in a different state. Man, did he love tacos.
He followed a diamond thief in Milan and snatched the prize for himself, then scattered the five-carat stones in the Atlantic Ocean as he crossed to Iceland.
He was Sinistari. Sin ran through his black blood.
He held the world within him now. He knew all.
By all that was sacrilege in the dark sea Beneath, the world had changed vastly. And that parts of it frightened even him was not a good feeling. The weapons were fascinating, but he could not condone putting them in the hands of children. And lust was always entertaining, but it became a sickness when viewed obsessively on the computer.