by Amy Braun
“We were chosen to protect the Nephilim called Dro,” Rorikel added. “She shall not come to harm.”
I relaxed, but didn’t let them see it. Their claims to protect Dro sounded nice enough, but angel or not, I didn’t trust either of them. They already wanted to use her as a conduit for the archangels. It wasn’t a stretch to think they would be after more than that.
“How do we stop the demons?” Dro asked.
That immediately got my attention. It wasn’t our responsibility to take out the demons. The best thing we could do was run from them all– the angels, demons, Drake, Warrick. Things were simpler when it was just Dro and I. But things had changed. I could see the firm determination in Dro’s eyes. If we didn’t try to stop the demons from opening the Gates of Hell, she would never forgive me. Maybe she thought that if we stopped their plans, they would finally leave us alone. I couldn’t really argue with that. I gave her a small nod.
“We must uncover the identity of this witch and subdue him or her. A mortal with the power to summon such powerful demons is distressingly vexing.”
I looked at Warrick. “Know any demon slayers willing to help us out?”
He looked in my eyes. “Not really. We’re not an army.”
I glared. “Are you gonna ask or not?”
He sighed. “I can try.”
“Then you might want to start now.”
Warrick kept his eyes on me for another long minute. I should have felt guilty for snapping at him. He helped save me, but I was tired, in pain, stressed out, and didn’t like being under that laser green stare.
Well, I like it a little.
I ignored that stupid voice and looked away before he could read my eyes. Warrick turned and took his cell phone out of his jean pocket, walking out of the hotel room to make whatever calls he had to make. I didn’t trust him not to turn me in to the Marshals for that hefty bounty, but he was Max’s emergency contact. Even though it went against my rules, I trusted Max.
“I want to help,” Max said. “There has to be something I can do.”
For my father, went unsaid. The grief was still too raw for us. I wanted to tell him no, that it was too dangerous and he didn’t know nearly enough to survive in combat, especially against a demon, but Max wouldn’t give a damn about what I thought. He would fight demons to honor his father, and defend my sister as much as he could.
“You are gifted with psychic abilities,” said Sephiel, reminding me the angels had been watching with silence and interest. Well, maybe only he found it interesting. Rorikel was a blank slate with eyes. “Those gifts could be very useful.”
Max relaxed. “I’ll do whatever I can. Just let me stay.”
His last words were so quiet and tender I knew I couldn’t refuse them. My sister reached over and touched Max’s hands, smiling at him.
He grinned back at her, yet again looking at Dro like she held the light of the stars. A bomb could have gone off two doors down and Max wouldn’t have noticed.
Sephiel was smiling, looking strangely sad as he shook his head. He said exactly what I was thinking.
“Humans are strange creatures indeed.”
Chapter 11
After the dramatic reveals, arguments, and compromises, we all needed space. Warrick was still trying to get in contact other demon slayers. Rorikel was out on a perimeter check of the Odessa motel we were currently occupying. Sephiel had used some kind of teleportation magic to take Max back to his house so they could bury Manny’s body. I wanted to go with them, but I was only just getting my strength back. Dro was torn for not going with Max, but she refused to leave me alone.
So we sat in the motel room, eating the leftover burgers and fries that had been ordered a couple hours earlier. Angels didn’t need to eat, and Max and Warrick hadn’t been very hungry, so I was eating all the fries they left behind. I was a skinny girl, but I had a big appetite. Having my soul possessed by a demon, being exorcised, and sleeping for two days made me famished. I wasn’t about to let the food go to waste.
Dro had been quiet for most of the night, nibbling on her food instead of scarfing it down like I was. She needed to talk, but didn’t want to. That wasn’t a good sign, and there could only be a couple things she wanted to talk about in this mood.
“You might as well tell me what’s on your mind before the Testosterone Team comes back,” I tried, munching on another French fry.
She didn’t answer me right away, which was fine. I could be patient for Dro.
“How much of it was true?” she asked quietly.
I looked up, slowing my chewing. “How much of what?”
Dro gave me a regretful look. “How much do I scare you?”
Damn it. Of all the things I wanted to avoid talking about with her, that was at the top of the list. Since my memories were given back to me during the exorcism, I was all too aware of what Ohzlan said to Dro using my voice. He wanted to hurt us both. And he had.
“Dro, listen to me. That was Ohzlan talking. Not me. I would never say or think those things of you.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She looked crestfallen. “I terrify you.”
“No you don’t,” I said, wishing it didn’t sound like a lie.
Dro dropped her head into her hands and clutched her snow-white hair as it spilled over her shoulders.
“I knew it,” she said painfully. “I always knew I was dragging you down. You’re scared of what I might do.”
“That isn’t true,” I told her, shifting on the bed to get closer to her. “Dro, that was the demon saying those things.”
Dro’s head snapped up. “Why are you lying to me?” she cried.
I froze. She looked spiritless, tears building in her eyes. Dro was starting to run down like a machine that lost its batteries. I could have lied, told her what she wanted to hear. But good sisters don’t lie to each other. I didn’t have a lot of virtues to be proud of, but being a good sister was one of them.
“It was the demon,” I repeated cautiously. “He was going into the worst parts of my head and twisting my thoughts.” I held my breath, ready to jump into the deep end. “I am afraid, Dro. I wish I wasn’t, but I just don’t understand all this. I understand you, but not your powers. Every time you lose control, I worry that it will be for the last time. It’s torture to watch you have those nightmares and see you burn, knowing there isn’t anything I can do.” I carefully reached over and touched her shoulder.
“I’m tired of running, but I don’t blame you for anything. You haven’t ruined my life. I wouldn’t change anything, Dro. I would do it all again if I had to.”
She exhaled heavily. “He was right, though,” she said regretfully. “You’d be safer away from this. Away from me.”
I almost took my hand back. “Are you trying to get me to leave?” I asked, saying the words I never thought I would say, hoping I was jumping to conclusions.
One look in her eyes told me I wasn’t.
“Things are only going to get more dangerous, Constance,” she said. “You’re going to get hurt again. I can’t change what I am, or know where my life will go. But you have a chance. You can escape and find a normal life. You can take Max with you. I would understand.”
I lifted my hand from her shoulder. “No.”
She breathed. “Constance–”
“No fucking way,” I said. “I haven’t left your side in sixteen years. I’m not going to start now.”
“The demons will be out for blood, and–”
“You think I care about that?” I snapped. “Or about being scared? Ohzlan might have fucked around in my head and bent my thoughts to get to you, but leaving you has never once crossed my mind. Never. Didn’t matter after Mom and Dad died, didn’t matter when we joined the Blood Thorns, didn’t matter all the times the demons almost killed me, doesn’t matter now. I am not leaving you, Dro.”
Instead of taking comfort in my words, Dro burst into tears. She shook her head. “I can’t keep doing it, Connie. I
can’t keep living with your blood on my hands.”
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Just like I can’t live without making sure you’re safe. So we’re kind of at an awkward impasse, aren’t we?”
Dro choked on her laugh and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly and sobbing onto my shoulder. I let her. The poor girl had so much weight on her soul, so much pain I couldn’t understand or take away, no matter how badly I wanted to. She was allowed to fall apart sometimes, because she was strong enough to put herself back together again.
“I’m your sister,” I told her. “Your pain is my pain. There’s nothing you can do to make me leave, Dro. You’re stuck with me.”
“You promise?” she sobbed.
I stroked her hair. “I promise.”
Dro started to calm down. I wasn’t going to ask if she believed me or not. I just had to trust her.
As we pulled away from each other, the door was thrown open.
Max walked in, looking at the floor. He lifted his eyes, which were red from crying. Sephiel was behind him with an equally sad expression. Max’s eyes shifted to Dro, the slump in his shoulders starting to lessen. He managed a weak smile when she looked at him. His dark eyes turned to me.
“I brought you these back,” he said, holding out his hands.
I could have cried at the welcome sight of my weapons. My heart ached at the sight of my father’s hatchet.
“I noticed them on the floor, after…” His voice trailed off. Tears built in his eyes again.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He nodded, still avoiding my eyes. After a long time, he sniffed and raised his head. “I was also talking to Sephiel, and I know how we can keep demons from possessing us.”
“How?”
He grinned, some of the familiar sparkle coming back into his eyes. “We’ve got to get tattoos.”
***
Three hours later, I was getting inked again. This time the tattoo was on my chest, just over my heart. I didn’t have to worry about exposing half of my breast to a psychic, a demon slayer, and two angels, because they didn’t seem to care. The needle stabbed and buzzed into my skin, and I set my jaw so I wouldn’t show how much it hurt.
Max had drawn out the anti-possession sigil and shown it to the tattoo artist after we made sure he wasn’t going to call in my arrest. I didn’t think I needed to worry, because every single person in the parlor had gang or prison tattoos on his or her arms and necks, but twenty-five thousand dollars was a lot of money.
The tattoo being drawn on me was a line with two loops on the left above a horizontal cross. The line extended right and shaped into an ‘X’ and a ‘V’ near its end. Max said it was the sigil of Michael, meant to protect us from evil. Only Max, Warrick, and I were getting the tattoo. Angels couldn’t get possessed in their vessels, and neither could Dro as a hypothetical Nephilim. Warrick was impressed with Max’s knowledge. He hadn’t known there was a way to avoid possession until Max explained it. Max had been on Cloud Nine ever since.
The bulky artist finished my tattoo and set down the ink gun.
“Keep it covered and watch for signs of infection,” he mumbled.
Thanks for the detailed instructions, pal. I nodded and got out of the chair. I walked over to the mirror and took a look at my latest ink. Dro slid up behind me to get a peek, tilting her head to see the black lines on my slightly inflamed skin.
“It’s not a bad design,” she said.
“Yeah, well I didn’t get it to look pretty,” I grumbled, lifting my shirt back onto its place and taping a cloth bandage over it to protect the raw mark.
Dro looked over my shoulder. “Whoa, speaking of pretty…”
I turned, wondering what Max was doing that she found so damn lovely. Except she was looking at Warrick, who had just sat down in the tattoo artist’s chair, taken off his leather jacket, and lifted off his shirt.
I admit it– I stared. He was well muscled everywhere, the same rigid muscles I’d seen on UFC fighters. His arms were big and looked strong, his stomach toned and washboard flat. My eyes drifted all the way across his body, taking in the V-shape of his hipbones as well as the thin white scars that could only have come from demon claws.
My trance was broken when Dro nudged my ribs. She waggled her eyebrows at me and grinned.
“Rawr,” she teased, making a claw with her hands.
I stifled a laugh and put my hand on the top of her head, turning it away from me. I made sure not to stare at Warrick again as his chest was tattooed. No man should be that hypnotic.
Lucky for me, Rorkiel was making a scene.
“Hey buddy, we don’t take crazies in here,” said one of the skinnier artists. “Keep a lid on it.”
“All of them shall be damned,” he proclaimed. “There are no saints here, only sinners.”
I walked away from Dro to Rorikel, who was in the skinny artist’s face. Sephiel was standing next to him, but saying nothing. He seemed more interested in the way tattoo guns were working than keeping his friend from freaking out all the people in the parlor.
“What the hell do you care, Blondie?” one of the customers said. “Why don’t you just keep your thoughts to your own damn self?”
Rorikel glared daggers. “You have failed as mortal souls, condemning and corrupting yourselves to pettiness and sin. You all disgust me.”
I finally made it over and grabbed Rorikel’s arm, dragging him away from the artist and the customer. After three long steps, he wrenched free from me.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I should be asking you that question,” I said forcefully, though I kept my tone low. “Look, I’m guessing you don’t usually visit your human forms, but you can’t start talking shit about people. Especially not in a place like this.”
“You believe that I fear them? They are merely damned humans. Nothing more.”
“They have free will. Let them make their own choices.”
He scoffed. “You would side with them, wouldn’t you? You, one with so many stains on her soul? Do you tell yourself it was for a noble cause? That you had no other choice? Do you think it will make a difference come Judgment Day?”
I am not in the mood for this. “Get the fuck out, Rori,” I said coldly. “Go stand outside and be a good little watchdog.”
He clenched his fists. “Do not presume to direct me, human. I am an angel of Heaven, tasked with protecting the vessel of an archangel. That protection does not extend to you.”
“Ask me if I give a shit. Get out.”
His eyes suddenly glowed, and I could see the heavenly power bubbling under his control. I tensed, feeling phantom fire tearing through my skin and scorching my soul. I never wanted to feel it again.
“Do not command me,” he warned.
The thought of being burned by heavenly fire again sent a terrified chill down my spine, but I forced myself to look tough.
“Rori, you’re on my last nerve. Stop being dramatic and do your fucking job.”
I thought he was going to hit me. He looked ready to, and he was right– I wasn’t the one who needed to be kept safe. Only Dro had to be. Then Sephiel walked up to Rorikel and touched his shoulder.
“Constance has a point. We need to guard the entrance. This place could be a lure for Possessors. I will stay here and watch over the Nephilim, Rorikel.”
The bitchy white-blond angel glared at his friend, but stormed out of the tattoo parlor.
“What the hell is his problem?” I asked when he was gone.
“Rorikel has never been known for his admiration of the human race. Nor is he famed for his patience.”
“So he has a permanent stick up his ass,” I muttered.
To my surprise, Sephiel smiled a little. “That is a sufficient definition, yes.”
“Why do you like him then?”
“I do not understand what you mean.”
Damn technical angels. “Why choose him as your partner?”
Sephiel frowned. “You are under the assumption I had a choice in the matter. Rorikel and I were assigned one another by Michael himself. His orders are not ones you defy.”
“So if you defy your orders, what, you get fired?”
“I believe humans call it ‘vaporization.’ ”
I blinked. “Oh. Wow. That’s harsh.”
“Heaven can be a stern place at times, but there is order there. Structure. A sense of stability you do not find in Hell, or earth for that matter.” A fondness twinkled in his bright blue eyes, which shifted over my shoulder to where Dro was standing. “But that lack of stability is why I have always respected the human race. Despite their flaws, they can be decent and kind. Unique creatures, in their own strange ways.”
I looked over with him and spotted Dro, who was now sitting in the tattoo chair next to Max. This must have been his first tattoo because he was eyeing the needle nervously as it hovered above his skin. But Dro’s presence relaxed him. They talked casually and flirted without restraint. She took Max’s hand in her own, gently touching his non-tattooed shoulder. I wondered if he felt all the happiness and softness she had for him with his power. I hoped he did. The kid deserved it.
I turned to talk to Sephiel again, but he was gone. I hadn’t even heard him move, but he wasn’t in the parlor anymore.
“Making new friends, or new enemies?” a voice rumbled from behind me.
I turned again, facing Warrick this time. His jacket was in his hand and his shirt was back on. Underneath it I could just make out the edges of the bandage to his chest where the sigil was. I pushed away the weird, slight disappointment I felt now that he wasn’t shirtless, and found myself focusing on an even more deadly feature. His bright green eyes.
They reminded me of the times I had walked in the forest, seeing crisp green leaves and feeling relaxed as warm summer air filled my lungs. I’d stared at the world around me, allowing myself to be lost in time and forgetting everything around me. Kind of like now.
What the hell are you doing, Constance? You don’t know anything about this guy. Sometimes mistrust is a good thing.