by Debra Dunbar
“Seal? Not exactly the first choice of visitors to Alaska.”
“You should try it. It’s chewy and dipped in this greasy oil. I think it’s one of my favorite things.”
Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Most people cook it first.”
That sounded good too, but at the rate I was going through it, I doubted there would be any left to cook.
“Demons.” She said under her breath, as if we were completely beyond her comprehension.
I went to go upstairs when she halted me, an odd look on her face.
“There’s an angel up there. He didn’t seem like he was planning to lay in wait to kill you, but just in case, can you please not bleed on the quilt? It’s handmade.”
I paused, one foot hovering above the step, and stared at her in astonishment. She was warning me. Yeah, I know she was concerned about her quilts, but that wasn’t her only motivation.
“He caught up with me in town. He’s the guy I told you about, the one I came here with.”
She shrugged, gathering up the packages of fish in her arms. “Suit yourself. I’ll go ahead and charge your credit card, just in case.”
I could hear Gregory in the bedroom talking on his phone when I came in. It was bizarre, how quickly he’d taken to human technology. I wondered if one day I’d come home to find him and Wyatt duking it out on the Xbox.
Taking my cue from him, I dialed Wyatt to give him the bad news. “He got away. I almost had him, but he blew a chunk out of a forest and managed to give us the slip. I don’t know how we’re going to find him now.”
Wyatt made a sympathetic noise. “I can track his credit card usage, but there’s a delay in posting — he could be long gone by the time you get there. If I freeze his accounts with a fraud, I can find out real–time, but it would tip him off.”
“He’s already tipped off.” I looked toward Gregory. “I think we’re probably going to have to stake out the gate up here. He’s got nothing left. It’s his last chance, and he’s going to have to go for it.”
“He’ll be desperate, with nothing to lose,” Wyatt warned. “Let Gregory deal with him. You just stay safe.”
I felt a wave of irritation. Why was everyone suddenly wanting me to play it safe? When did an imp ever play it safe?
“I’ll let you know what’s going on,” I promised. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Do you really?” an angel’s voice said from behind me.
“Really what?” I turned to face him. Gregory always looked the same in his jeans and polo shirt, so far from the stereotypical angelic attire. He had his arms crossed at his chest, his expression unreadable.
“Do you really love Wyatt?”
It was one of the few times I could recall him calling Wyatt by his name, instead of toy, or some other derogative title.
“Yes. He’s fun; he’s kind and giving, honest and smart. He sees me for who I really am, and while he’s not always thrilled with what he sees, he loves me anyway.”
Gregory stood before me, staring with that inscrutable air about him.
“You need to let your Owned souls go, little Cockroach. It’s twisted and sick to do such a thing to another being.”
Where had this come from?
“Worse than devouring?” I teased.
He scowled. “I am very serious. When you were angels, you didn’t do such things. Those souls trapped inside you hinder your positive evolution; they will be your downfall. You must let them go.”
“We’re not angels. We’re demons. We Own, and some of us devour. I know you don’t like it, but you didn’t seem to have liked us much when we were angels up in Aaru either.”
He winced, but ignored my barb. “I see your potential, the possibility of redemption for you if you change your path. It’s true that Angels of Chaos were always different, always difficult to understand and appreciate, but they were still angels. You are still angels, somewhere deep inside. This, I know.”
“Why are you always trying to redeem me?” I snapped. He’d hit a sore spot, something that had been chewing away at me for a long time. Why couldn’t he come to care for me as the demon I was?
“Because that’s the only thing that will keep you alive,” he snapped back. “You stupid imp. Do you not think I see lines of possibility for you too? I see probable futures before you and I fear for you.”
His omnipotence. But even an ancient angel wasn’t infallible in predicting impending doom — mine or anyone’s.
“You only have a thirty–percent accuracy,” I reminded him. “Even with your super–duper special algorithms.”
“I don’t like the thirty percent I see,” he hissed.
I shrugged in my best “whatever” attitude and whirled around to storm out of the room. I made it two steps before he grabbed my arm and spun me around against him.
“I’m calling in my favors,” he told me between clenched teeth.
Fuck. He had quite a few.
“Twelve. Twelve favors for twelve souls.”
I made a choked noise. He couldn’t be serious?
“I’m very serious. And I get to pick which twelve souls.”
I had two–hundred–and–twenty–eight Owned human souls. The loss of twelve wouldn’t be a big deal, but I got the feeling this would go on until I had none left. Gregory was very good at racking up the favors, and I was forbidden from Owning any further humans. It might take a few decades, but eventually, he’d insist I free them all.
“You are such an asshole,” I snarled. “I refuse to grant you this favor.”
I knew I had to do it, that my little tantrum would do no good in the end. He knew it too from the smile that flitted across his face. He leaned down and put his forehead against mine, looking stern.
“Twelve souls.”
I ground my teeth as he named them one at a time. Did he know every being I Owned? Was there anything this angel didn’t know? With each name, I freed a soul, setting it loose to disburse wherever the dead go. At eleven he paused, and I waited.
“Samantha Martin.”
I caught my breath, feeling tears spring to my eyes. Not her! Not the woman I’d been for so long. I searched, feeling her panic and anger as I struggled to pry her loose from my being.
“I can’t.”
He gripped my arms painfully, giving me a brief shake. “You must. I’m calling in a favor.”
“No, I can’t. She won’t go. I don’t …I don’t really Own her.”
This was embarrassing. Almost as bad as being a devouring spirit. What other failings would this angel discover about me? How could I possibly think we could have something between us? He was an angel, ancient and powerful. I was a lowly imp, a devouring spirit, and now this.
“You don’t Own her?” he asked, confused.
“Not really.” I squirmed. “It’s kind of like devouring, only the soul isn’t destroyed. It is assimilated. She’s not fully assimilated, only partial.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We made a deal. How do you think I masqueraded as a human for so long undetected? I had to be a human to do that. I gave her the life she really wanted, the life she felt she should have had, and she gave me her humanity.”
“Partially. You said you didn’t fully assimilate her, so you should be able to let her go.”
“She won’t go! I tried, and she won’t leave. A willing partner must also agree to leave, or the deal continues.”
He stared at me, dumbstruck.
“I tried. I know I must grant you the favor, but she does not recognize your authority over her contract with me.”
He shook his head. “Fine. Let Antonio Scarletti go.”
I released him, and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d need to be very careful in the future with my favors.
“I want you to promise me you will never Own your human toy. That you’ll walk away from Wyatt and let him live his life in peace.”
“Sorry dude, you’re out of fav
ors.” The funny thing was, I’d already vowed that I would never Own Wyatt, and the sexual part of our relationship seemed to be maturing into something quite different from what I’d ever experienced before.
“Leave him alone.” The hands tightened on my arms once more.
Asshole. He’d gotten me to give up twelve souls, be he wasn’t going to dictate my relationships.
“Why do you care what I do with Wyatt? He put a bullet through your head. A really big fucking bullet, too. I would have thought you’d be happy to see him an Owned soul.”
“It’s wrong what you do to him. You know exactly where his weaknesses are, where he is lonely and empty. One day he’ll look back and wish he’d been like his own kind, partnered with an equal, had children, had someone to grow old with.”
I looked down at his hands, white knuckled on my biceps. He was right. I’d thought those same thoughts many times, but been too selfish to let Wyatt go. But now? Wyatt was free to make his own choices, whether it was to stay with me or choose someone else. I loved him. I’d always love him, no matter what he chose. And I knew he felt the same. Whether our relationship cooled, changed or deepened into something different, he’d always remain important to me as long as I lived.
“I swear to you that I will not Own him. I will not force him to remain with me. If he asks to leave, wants to end our relationship, I will allow him to do so.”
I felt the weight of his stare. It pressed on me, urging me to more. Fuck him. Not doing it.
“Humans make such poor choices,” he said softly. “Their lives are short, and their vision even shorter. Their souls are so intertwined with their physical beings that they act from emotion, from what they feel at the moment. Pain, euphoria, sadness. These things unduly influence them. It is not right to engage them in emotional relationships when they don’t fully understand what they do.”
“I love Wyatt. I’m not taking advantage of him. This isn’t one–sided, this thing between us.”
He continued to press, wanting more. We stood in silence, and I finally made myself look up and meet his eyes. They looked normal, human. Dark, dark eyes. They didn’t command. They weren’t forceful. They had sadness, a gentle pleading in them. Very gentle. As if he knew he was asking for so much more than he could ever expect me to give.
“Why do you care?” I asked, bewildered. “He’s human. You don’t even like him. You’re not asking for this out of any concern for him.”
The angel frowned. “All humans are important. Every one. It doesn’t matter about my fallible personal feelings toward any one of them. They all deserve grace.”
“Bullshit. Let me tell you a story about a girl, because there was no grace for her. When she was eight, Daddy left and never came back.” I choked a bit, because I had pulled up all the feelings and emotions of Samantha Martin. They were powerful feelings.
“She continually attached herself to boys who would hurt her and abandon her because, if her love could be strong enough to make them stay, maybe her love was finally strong enough to bring her Daddy back. At sixteen, she was a drug addict runaway, dating a string of junkies until she finally caught the attention of a local two–bit dealer. He said he loved her, said he needed her, and she thought finally her love would save them both. Instead, he ran out of drugs and begged her to prostitute herself to his supplier for more. If she loved him, he argued, she’d help him, save him. She did it, but he left her there, and it wasn’t just the supplier; it was him plus five dealers, and various junkies. They gang raped her, beat her, cut her, left her lying in blood and semen while they went out. She knew they’d do it again when they got back. And again, and again, until they killed her. She’d given up hope, lost her faith in everyone, including herself. She was going to die, alone, unloved, a failure at the one thing she’d needed to do in her life.”
I paused, ensuring that the angel truly understood the agony this human girl had suffered, the sheer hopelessness of her life.
“That’s where I found her. I promised her freedom, I promised her that the men that did this to her would die fearing her, I promised her an eternity where no one takes her love and gives pain in return.
“Did any angel notice her? Bother to do anything to help her? Relieve her suffering? Bring her some remembrance of past happiness?”
He stared at me, his dark eyes reflecting my pain, my outrage. Fucking angels with their talk of grace and redemption. It was easy for them to denigrate the sins of humanity but when did they ever bother to help?
“She was one of the fortunate ones. There are a million worse off than her, starving, diseased, tortured souls who have no hope left at all. Wyatt is happy, healthy, enjoying his life. Go save those millions. Go feed the hungry, smite the tyrants, cure AIDS. Leave Wyatt alone. Leave me and the things I love alone.”
“We’ve interfered enough in the lives of humans; both angels and demons.” His voice was soft, sad. “If I could turn back time, undo the things that were done, I would jump at the chance. I’d make different choices.”
“Make different choices in regards to granting humans the gifts of Aaru, or in fighting the demon wars?” I asked.
He released my arms and traced a soft finger along my cheek. “Humans. For as much as I long to have my brother by my side again, I couldn’t bear to think I might have never known you had things been different.”
All the anger fell away from me. The most horrible event in his entire life, and yet he’d suffer through it to know me. It was a heady thought.
“I long for your redemption, little Cockroach, but I think it is I who has already been redeemed.”
I leaned against him, touching him both with my physical and my spirit self. I knew he was attracted to me, that we were bound together, but this was sounding very much like a declaration of some sort.
“I love Wyatt. Love him enough to give him space and time to reconnect with his sisters and deal with all the supernatural shit he’s faced this past year. I’ll honor his decisions, but he’s helped make me the demon I am today. And if you have any care for me, you’ll acknowledge the part he has played in my life and trust that I’ll respect his wishes.”
The angel sighed, cupping my face in his hands. “Fair enough.”
Then he kissed me. I was so shocked that I just stood there like a statue.
For a being that shunned physical sensation, he was a damned good kisser. Heat tore through me like a flare, consolidating in low, increasingly moist places as the first gentle touch of his lips grew demanding. His fingers skimmed along my jaw and down my neck; his tongue brushed mine, stinging me with sharp needles. Need spasmed through me, and my shock vanished, replaced with images of me splayed across the bed naked with his glorious tongue tasting me everywhere. I acted on that image, pulling my mouth away and arching my neck in invitation. Surprisingly, he went for it, nipping down the sensitive flesh with his pointed teeth, sweeping his hands down my arms to my waist and yanking me against him.
Oh my. I was thrilled to find he’d completely ignored my advice from the airport. When this angel fell, he evidently fell hard. And big. Was he really willing to take this all the way?
As he moved his mouth moved back up to claim my lips once again, his spirit self equally busy in its exploration of my personal energy. I was overloaded with sensations, physical and otherwise. My spirit leapt to his, merging as much as I dared while still remaining partially within my form.
“Slow down,” he murmured, allowing me a moment for breath. “Patience.”
I had no patience, especially with his spirit lighting me up, his lips on mine, his hands busy underneath my shirt, and the promise of more, pressing very firmly against my stomach. I felt the sharp bite of his teeth against my lower lip. Where the fuck had he learned all this? He continued, doing things with his mouth that I never would have imagined. If he kept this up much longer, I was going to come. Orgasm from kissing and angel fucking. I’d never be the same.
I saw a flash out of the corner of my
eye.
“Ancient Revered One, I …” The words trailed off into a squeak.
Whoever that was, I was going to fucking kill him.
Gregory continued to kiss me for a few moments, giving me one last caress before lifting his head to look down at me, ignoring the gate guardian standing open–mouthed a few feet away.
“Make him go away,” I whispered. Or let him stay. I really didn’t care if he watched, I just wanted to continue on down this road we were on.
My angel chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose. “Patience. We have a killer to catch, and all of eternity to wallow in sin with each other.”
I caught my breath at the implication. An eternity with him. . .and sin.
He drew me close, pressed against his chest with one hand buried in my hair, rubbing my scalp and smoothing the brown locks. I was breathless. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Visions of a future with him bloomed before me, lighting me up with sensation and emotion. My angel. Mine.
“Nisroc, stay clear of the gate. We’ll handle this one.”
The guardian nodded, shooting me a terrified look from the corner of his eyes before he disappeared.
Gregory gave me a brief, hard kiss, digging his hands deeper into my hair. “Dress for wilderness hiking, little Cockroach. The Juneau gate is at Devil’s Paw.”
~23~
Wilderness hiking, my ass. I’d packed for Seattle in summer, not tromping across an ice field. The best I could come up with was a plaid, flannel shirt that I’d borrowed from Gina to wear over my tank top, and jeans. I was going to fucking freeze. Stupid fucking Alaska. I should be home by the pool, in a bathing suit, with beer and hot wings, and a naked Wyatt rubbing oil on my body. Yeah.
But I wasn’t. I was in Alaska, and I was going to be hiking through the Juneau ice fields to Devil’s Paw. The serendipity of the name didn’t escape me.
The easy method of getting there would have involved a helicopter dropping us off in the ice fields less than a half–day’s hike to the mountain. Actually, the easy way would be to have Gregory just gate me there, right on top of the fucking mountain. Instead, we’d taken a helicopter up to Taku Inlet, then a boat along the river to Twin Glacier Lake. The river went deep through the mountains, all the way into Canada, but it would have put us too far south on a mountain range with nearly impassable vertical cliffs. Looking up at the impressive peaks ten miles away from our spot on the glacier, I longed to manifest wings and just fly there. I’ll bet the views were spectacular from some of those heights.