Forbidden

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Not to mention the fact that Prince Lucifer will be most displeased,” Asmodeus remarked. “Of course, this was his plan in the first place, but I doubt he’ll see it that way when he’s presented with the facts.”

  Beelzebub’s mottled skin went pale. “He must not know of this. Somehow we must fix the situation. But how?”

  “Killing them will do nothing but send them winging back to their celestial forms as quickly as consummation. Correct?” Asmodeus asked.

  “Yes, killing their human bodies is no good. It’s a one-way ticket back to heaven.” Beelzebub thumped heavily down on the bone throne. “Damnation. We must keep them apart. We’re about to breach heaven’s last wall. If we fail now—”

  “We’ll never get another chance,” Asmodeus finished for him. “What about just killing one of them, then? The seal on the doors can’t be broken without both halves of the angel twain to do it, can it?”

  Beelzebub rounded, snarling at his second in command. “Have you forgotten what Micah and Ariel are like in their angelic forms? They are seraphim—the greatest of the Almighty’s warriors. I took them by surprise when I bested them—caught them in the middle of their joining. I had the reever in my fist and a horde of demon warriors at my back, and still they nearly cut me down. Even one of them is too much to risk running amok in the antechamber of the throne room.”

  “Very well, then.” Asmodeus pouted, his pale blue eyes venomous slits. He looked at the imp. “You said Ariel was willing to consummate, but Micah was not?”

  “Indeed, my lord.” The imp bobbed his head nervously. “Ariel would have given him everything, but he denied her.”

  “And yet he wants her still.” Asmodeus frowned. “It seems to me that what we have to do is take away his desire for her.”

  Beelzebub pounded a huge gray fist on the grinning skulls that made up the arm of his throne. “And how in damnation do you propose to do that? If we were able to take away their desire for each other, don’t you think we would have done it long ago?”

  “Forgive me, Lord Beelzebub, but I know lust better than any being, living or dead.” Asmodeus smiled. “I know how to fan it to a roaring flame and how to reduce it to ashes.”

  “Do tell me, then, Asmodeus.” Beelzebub’s deep voice was heavily sarcastic. “How do you plan to reduce the desire of one half of the angel twain for the other? You may as well try to pull the earth out of its orbit around the sun.”

  “Oh, it can be done, my lord. I promise you that.” Asmodeus grinned evilly. “Micah must be made to see her as disgusting—a being so debased and debauched that just the thought of touching her again makes his skin creep with horror and revulsion.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” Beelzebub demanded, but he looked genuinely interested.

  “Tell me this—what substance do angels abhor more than any other? What makes their lovely skin crawl the most? What is the true essence of hell?” Smiling devilishly, Asmodeus answered his own question. “Why, demon cum, of course. It is the essence of our evil. A distillation of lust and iniquity so vile and revolting to them that they cannot bear to be near it.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Now, what do you think Micah would do if he found Ariel—his other half, the love of his celestial life—filled with our demon’s brew? Do you think he would find her quite so appealing and irresistible then? I think not.”

  Beelzebub looked taken aback. “You plan to defile an angel? One of the seraphim, no less?”

  “Do you have a better plan? You must admit, it will drive Micah from her. How could he bear to be anywhere near his darling when she is so defiled?”

  The other demon shook his head in apparent admiration. “Very well, but you’d better hope the Almighty’s period of contemplation lasts the rest of eternity. A sin such as this…” He shook his head.

  “She must be taken by force.” Asmodeus’s ice blue eyes gleamed; apparently he wasn’t interested in Beelzebub’s warning. “Taken and used, debased completely. And when Micah sees her like that—when he sees her fouled by demon cum—he will have nothing but disgust for her. His lust for Ariel will turn to ashes. This I promise you, my lord Beelzebub. And your problem will be solved.”

  Beelzebub nodded thoughtfully. “In truth, an excellent plan, Asmodeus. Very well, we must put it into action at once.”

  “My lord?” The imp, almost forgotten for most of this discussion between his betters, spoke up now.

  “What is it now?” growled Beelzebub.

  “My lord, they are not unprotected. Micah and Ariel, they both have guardian angels of their own.”

  “What?” Beelzebub roared. “Why did you not say so before?”

  “They…they only recently came to my attention, my lord.” The imp bowed nervously, still rubbing his hands together. “I think…think they were hiding in the upper edges of the firmament. But they’re out now, and they’re able to take human form.”

  “Names, imp,” snapped Asmodeus. “If they can take human form, they’re no mere guardians. What are their names?”

  “J-Jael and Elloria,” stuttered the imp. “Forgive me, my lords. I tried to stop them, but they were too strong. They cast me into the pit—” He stopped abruptly and clapped a black leathery hand over his mouth. How could he have given himself away so stupidly? He’d been keeping his ruined wings folded this entire time, praying Lord Beelzebub wouldn’t notice their skeletal appearance. And now…

  “Jael and Elloria. Hmm.” Asmodeus nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I know them. They are not seraphim, but they’re in the circle just below, still quite powerful. I’m afraid it will be no easy task to divert them.”

  “I can’t spare many for the task either,” Beelzebub said. “Every demon warrior I have is needed to breach heaven’s defenses.”

  “Don’t worry.” Asmodeus’s pale eyes filled with gleeful delight. “I’ll take care of Ariel myself. It will be my pleasure. She always was a haughty little bitch, never letting anyone but Micah in that tight cunt of hers. It’s time she was taught a lesson.”

  Beelzebub scowled. “You won’t be able to fight off her guardian angel and defile her at the same time. What do you plan to do?”

  “Create a distraction, of course. And I don’t need any of your warriors either. Just more like him.” He stabbed a finger at the imp, who had just been breathing a sigh over being overlooked.

  “Me, my lord?” he squeaked nervously. “What can a lowly imp like me do in a fight with high-level angels like those two?”

  “You can die,” Asmodeus said coldly. “You and hundreds like you. I don’t care how many of you get stripped and sent to the pit, as long as I get to take my sweet time with Ariel.” He gave the imp a slow, cruel smile. “And you, my little friend, will be leading the charge.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Owen didn’t know how long he’d wandered the streets, but somehow he ended up back at his loft as the sun was coming up. He’d walked all night, from his affluent neighborhood through the industrial district by the port, and then through the maze of project housing that had sprung up beside it. Though he was alone and unarmed, no one had bothered him. He had wished they had. He needed to fight, to plow his fist into someone’s face and feel bones snap and cartilage shatter. To watch the blood pour out red-black in the orange glare of the streetlights.

  What’s wrong with me? I don’t cause pain. I ease it. I’m a healer.

  If only he could ease the pain in himself. Or heal the agony he’d inflicted on Leah. God, the look on her face when he’d left her—so broken, so hurt… It was worse than the first time he’d tried to cut her out of his life. A thousand times worse.

  I never should have tried to let her back in. I should have known it would end like this. Why am I such a monster?

  He opened his front door, meaning to tell her that, to apologize and beg her forgiveness, but she was already gone. And not just out for the day—her side of the closet had been cleaned out, and her suitcases were absent too.

  Lea
h had moved out.

  Gone. Just like that. He felt his breath hitch in his chest as he looked at her side of the bed. Empty—just like the inside of his chest. Because Leah was his heart. How could he go on living, breathing, existing without her? But he knew he had to try. He had no choice.

  He had a surgery scheduled today, he realized dully. And several meetings and a surgical consult as well. He was going to have to take a shower and go to work and pretend nothing had happen. Pretend his world hadn’t ended last night. But first he had to lie down for a minute.

  He flopped onto his side of the bed and put an arm over his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. He didn’t cry often or easily, but the thought that he would never spend the night here with Leah again—never hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her—was almost too much, even for his iron self-control.

  Unable to help himself, he turned to bury his face in her pillow. He wanted to smell Leah once more, that delicate, devastatingly feminine floral scent that seemed to waft from her hair like sunshine. But as he pressed his face into the softness of the pillow, he felt something dry and crinkly under it. It was a note; it had probably fallen off the pillow where she’d left it before she went.

  With trembling hands, Owen unfolded it to see Leah’s familiar flowing script.

  My dearest Owen,

  I think it’s best that I go, since you said you never wanted us to see each other again. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the pain I caused you. I shouldn’t have pushed you the way I did. I told myself what we did was about getting over the past, but now I see that wasn’t true at all. I was acting out my own desires, not yours. I wanted everything, every part of your heart, and not just the parts that should have been reserved for a sister. Forgive me for that, my darling.

  I know you feel what we did together was wrong—very wrong. But except for the pain it caused you, I can’t bring myself to regret it. Those forbidden moments with you are the sweetest I have ever spent, and I will never forget them.

  Owen, I don’t care how you feel about me. I want you to know that I love you and I always will. Please take care of yourself and know that I’ll be thinking of you and loving you always.

  Love,

  Leah

  The words on the paper blurred, and Owen crumpled the note in his fist, his eyes burning. Oh God, it hurts. Why does it have to hurt so much? Why can’t I stop wanting her when I know how wrong it is?

  There were no answers to the questions. Only a horrible, empty loss. A black hole that seemed to fill his chest and suck away all happiness and light, leaving only darkness and desolation. Leah was gone, and he could never have her back. No matter how much he loved her, she would be forever beyond his reach. Forbidden.

  He was about to drag himself to the shower when he saw one other thing lying on the bed where the note had been. It was a small, cheap business card with the words Campus Lodge Apartments printed in faded black ink. Under that was an address and Ray Filcher, general manager. Owen flipped the card over. Someone had scrawled #119 on the back. Dimly he remembered Leah talking about the crummy apartment building she’d looked at and how it was dismal and probably roach infested, but the only thing left in her price range. Had she actually gone there? Had she taken that disgusting place because she had nowhere else to go?

  God, Leah. I’m so sorry! He had an almost overwhelming urge to go find her. He knew the general area where the apartment was located—not far from the USF campus and not in a very good part of town either. Would she even be safe there? Hadn’t she said it was a ground-floor apartment? Those had more break-ins than any other kind. And Leah was so beautiful and so trusting. She would make the perfect target for any sick bastard who happened along.

  He was already up and grabbing his car keys when a sudden thought struck him. What am I going to say? Leah, you have to come home with me, it isn’t safe here? Like she’s going to be any safer with me. Because once I get her back to the loft, what am I going to do?

  Owen already knew the answer to that. He would take Leah into his bed and finish what they had started. He might have been able to walk away from her twice before, but he was only human, and he didn’t have a third time in him. If he brought his Leah back to his loft, they would wind up making love, no matter how good and noble his intentions. And this time he would take her completely. I can’t risk that. I can’t. Because once I take her—once I make her totally mine—I’ll never be able to let her go. Never. And we can’t live like this, with this horrible, dirty secret all our lives. It will ruin us both.

  Owen ran both hands through his hair and glanced at the clock. God, he was supposed to be in surgery in twenty minutes. No time for a shower. He would have to jump in the car and go.

  For a moment he hesitated, car keys in hand. He still had an incredibly strong urge to track Leah down, but he knew if he gave in, he would regret it with all his heart later. What should he do?

  I have to let her go. There’s no other way.

  Feeling like someone had dipped his heart in ice, Owen went out the door and got into his car. Then he headed for the hospital.

  * * *

  “This is bad. She’s gone, and he’s not going after her.”

  “I know. I made sure he found the note and the card, and I’ve been pushing him toward her all day, but he won’t go for it. He’s keeping his distance no matter what thoughts I put in his head.”

  A deep sigh. “Micah always was inflexible. But the situation in heaven is getting desperate. I just got a report, and hell’s forces are about to breach the last wall. If we don’t get the throne room open soon…”

  “I know. I know.” Grimly. “But what can we do? Is there any way you can get Ariel to go back to him? Maybe make her remember something she left at his place, something she needs urgently and has to get right away.”

  “I thought of that already, but she packed everything. She was very thorough. She’s not going back.”

  “What about the letter, the one her mother wrote her? Do you think it has any information that might help?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when it was written, and Ariel hasn’t been able to open it yet; the death of her mother is too fresh. It’s been in the pocket of her suitcase for so long, I think she’s completely forgotten it.”

  “Well, make sure she finds it. If it says anything at all… I know her mother was always saddened by the way Micah pulled away from the rest of his human family. Maybe it urges them to get closer or something like that. Or maybe there’s something in it Ariel would want to share with Micah. Any excuse to get them back together is good enough.”

  “You’re right. And something has to happen soon. I don’t like that horrible apartment she took.”

  Drily. “She thought she didn’t have a choice. It was the only one we made available.”

  “Yes, but that was back when we were trying to keep her at Micah’s. Now she’s in a bad part of town, and it’s going to be dark soon.”

  “You’re right. You’d better get back to her. I’ll go and try to push Micah some more.”

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  The swish of powerful wings beating the air and then silence.

  * * *

  Leah put her head in her hands and sighed. The apartment she’d been forced to rent wasn’t furnished, so she’d spent some money she didn’t have on a cheap single futon and some low-thread-count twin sheets. She’d made up her makeshift bed, intending to get in it and go to sleep, but she couldn’t. All day long she’d been checking her cell phone, hoping for a call from Owen. Hoping that he would change his mind and ask her to come back to him.

  But there was nothing. Not so much as a voice mail.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s not like he hasn’t cut me out of his life before. And I know how stubborn he can be. If he’s decided we should never see each other again, then we won’t. Ever.

  The thought made her feel heartsick and bruised inside. She ached all over,
as though she was getting sick, but this time there was no Owen to cure her. No big brother to wrap her in his arms and take away the pain.

  Oh, Owen. God, I miss you so much. And I’m sorry. So sorry.

  She wondered dully how she was going to go on. Oh, she could make a life for herself here. She had the position at USF with Professor Dobrev, and she’d probably make it into their doctoral program the next semester. But none of it meant anything without Owen.

  I love him. I really do love him. Even though it’s wrong I can’t help myself. And I think he loves me, but he can’t admit it. Can’t let himself go that far past what society considers normal and right.

  Leah shook her head. I have to stop this. I can’t keep this up, or I’ll drive myself crazy. I know—I’ll take a shower. A long, hot shower, and I’ll try not to think.

  She got up, noticing it had gotten dark outside. How long had she been sitting on the cheap futon thinking of Owen? It must have been hours. That was no good. She couldn’t just space out like that. She had to keep going somehow.

  Leah started to head for the bathroom and then remembered she needed a towel and some soap. Sighing, she went back and began to dig through her hastily packed suitcases. Now where is that damn soap? I know I packed it. Suddenly her seeking fingers encountered something thin and flat in the pocket of her suitcase. Frowning, Leah pulled it out. It was a plain white envelope with her name in a familiar script. The letter from Mom! Oh my God. I completely forgot about it.

  The letter had been given to her by her mother’s lawyer along with a number of documents to sign. Leah had looked at it many times after her mother died, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to open it. The pain of losing her mother had been too new, too fresh. Might as well open it now, though. How much worse can I feel? She carefully tore open the envelope and found a single piece of paper filled with her mother’s elegant, curving script.

  Dear Leah,

  I’ll be gone soon. The doctor confirmed it when I saw him today. Don’t cry for me too much, my darling. I love you so much, and I have lived a good life. I feel like most of my affairs are in order, but there is one thing that troubles me—one thing I feel I need to straighten out before I go.