He frowned. “How could you know that? You’ve never met him before.”
“Oh … I just knew. I can’t … describe it.” That was, in part, the truth. Her time in flesh and blood was quickly becoming more shades of gray and she was fast learning how hard it was for everyone here. And she had only been here a day.
“He’ll be here soon, to take us somewhere safe. Then I can work out what we have to do.” Daman rested on a low brick fence, staring blankly at the ground. He folded his arms in front of him, arms she wanted to be wrapped around her. Instead, she rested on the fence next to him.
She should tell him the truth. At least before she left. Before she had to go back into the timelessness of eternity.
But the more time she was here with Daman, the less she wanted to leave. She wondered if angels could live a life on earth. Have a soul that could pass to the next life, grow, love and learn, eventually to join the immense love that was the Creator of All There Is.
That would be a gift. To have a life with Daman would be too much to ask.
She watched him from the corner of her eye. It started to rain. Fine drops wet his dark hair, glistening in the moonlight. His shoulders were bunched against the cold, legs tucked out in front and crossed at the ankles. He looked as though he was resting, but she felt the intense tension riding out from him. His constant companion.
He was a good man. Too good to feel like he was. She wanted so much to take it away from him. To right the wrong she’d done him. That also would be a gift.
She also wondered if a fallen angel could provide such miracles. She had asked, and searched. But there was no reply.
She wondered if she was still worthy to give it.
Chapter Eleven
This time Haki knocked on the door instead of barging through it. He didn’t want to face the quiet threat of his boss again. One chance was all he would get. His boss didn’t like to waste words, and there would be plenty of men to fill his shoes if he was … dispatched to the next life earlier than he’d bargained. The sound echoed throughout Vincent’s private rooms. There was a muffled “come” and he turned the well-oiled door handle and entered.
Haki was prepared. He was a changed man. In that split second when he’d seen his body, seen his Death Angel come to take him, seen other things, putrid beings, lurking in the shadows. They’d been red. Their claws a deep crimson, scraping on the road like knives against concrete. They’d seen him. Had their eyes trained on him as he’d left his body. And the screeching … Haki struggled to contain a shudder. It was a sound that stabbed in the back of the neck and went straight down the spine. No, that was not for him. He shivered in disgust, recalling the rancid stench he’d smelled. Corpses left to decompose, uncovered with earth, left to be picked apart for the elements.
Those red things waited for him. That was his comeuppance. His reward for the life he’d led on earth. If not for those things, he would have happily faced the next life, but he feared the afterlife he wanted wasn’t coming for him.
The next time he died, with all certainty he knew they would be there. Patiently waiting. His life had caught up with him. He’d glimpsed the type of afterlife he’d created for himself. He had no one else to blame, he’d been laid bare, his true soul had spoken to the universe and it had replied in just terms. Like for like. To say he’d been scared wouldn’t have scratched the surface.
And he wanted nothing to do with it.
The blonde-haired angel had saved him. She’d known the red things would be there for someone like him. She’d offered him a second chance and he’d readily accepted. He’d do anything to make sure the second time he died, he would want to leave.
She’d shown him kindness, despite knowing who and what he was. He’d almost forgotten what it was like for someone to do that for someone like him. There’d not been much in his childhood. His story was only one of many.
He absently traced a scar on his forearm, the last one his father had given him. He’d found his sister crying and cowering — begging for mercy — beneath another onslaught of his father’s belt when he was fourteen. She’d been only ten at the time. Rage as he’d never felt before had filled his body until he felt as though he’d explode if he didn’t stop the hammering strikes on his sister’s back. He’d grabbed an old stock whip that had been hanging forever in the shed. He was sure now if his father knew it was there, it would have substituted for the belt.
Rage had made him uncoordinated. He’d struck his father, but the blow was just a weak one. Just enough to split his father’s shirt and bloody the ends of the rip. His father’s eyes had bulged. Where Haki had been filled to the brim with rage, his father was intoxicated to the brim with whiskey. The blow hadn’t hurt him. It had only given him more fuel to add to his booze-addled brain.
His father had grabbed the whip from Haki’s young, numb fingers and immediately struck out at him. The first strike bit through his jeans on his thigh. The second wound around his wrist where it had dug into the skin, sunk down to the bone. Whatever he’d done, he hadn’t been able to unwrap the end fast enough before his father snaked the rest of the whip around his neck.
It was lucky that his sister had found a brick and had the forethought to swing it on top of his father’s thick skull. It brought him precious moments to untangle himself. He’d grabbed his sister’s hand and they’d both stumbled from the shed into the blinding sunshine outside. The day had been perfect. So sunny. So warm. Such at odds with the terror that had happened inside the shed.
He’d run into the house, showed his mother his arm and leg, shown the bruises on his sister’s back. His mother had been too spaced out to stand up, let alone anything else. She’d offer no protection to them when his father regained consciousness.
He and his sister packed a few items and they’d left home then. Too young. Too old and hating the world. Until now he didn’t know how wrong he’d got it.
There were always options to be decided, and even though he’d had a rough childhood, it was no reason to keep making the wrong choices. Make someone else pay for the weakness of his parents. In hindsight, it was pathetic of him to think that it was acceptable.
He owed it to the angel to change. He owed it to himself. He was the only person who could make that change. No one else would care enough, but then again, he’d not done anything to enable someone to care.
He could just walk away and start a new life. But there was only one way you left the Lepski family. And it wasn’t by choice. Plus, there was his sister to consider. Vincent’s motto was revenge, and that was usually taken out on innocent people. He’d seen Quade suffer and he didn’t want to be in the same position.
He’d have to play his cards right and hope Vincent didn’t see the hand he held. Bide his time, watch and learn.
Haki cleared his throat and hoped Vincent wouldn’t read his thoughts through his voice.
“Boss.”
Vincent sat at his desk, typing on his computer. The tapping of the keys sounded like rapid-fire. Haki let the door click shut behind him, waiting patiently by the door.
Without looking up, Vincent said, “Come closer, Haki. Have a seat.”
He didn’t want to venture so far into the room, but he didn’t have a choice. He squeezed his large frame into the high-backed chair on this side of Vincent’s desk facing him and sat waiting with crushed shoulders, elbows pinned to his sides between the narrow armrests.
Eventually Vincent looked up from the screen. He removed his glasses and placed them on the desktop to the side of the computer. He leaned back in his chair, his black eyes glinted. There was no way Vincent could read his mind. He kept his gaze level, fighting the urge to flinch. Vincent steepled his fingers, then said. “I hope you have some news for me?”
Haki nodded. “It’s about the angel.” Words faded. He couldn’t bear to tell Vincent about something s
o wonderful, so good. He knew Vincent would only tarnish it.
Vincent pursed his lips. “I’m not waiting for Christmas, Haki. Tell me what you know.”
There was no room for error here. The truth had to be told. Vincent would know if he lied. He needed to be kept in Vincent’s plans. Keep himself in a position where he might be able to help the angel, give him a chance for redemption. Haki shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Vincent was a man of facts, and this tale sounded like a fairy-tale. “I … died. And she brought me back to life.”
“Are you fucking serious? You know I don’t like fables — or lies.”
Haki held his palms up. “It’s the truth, boss. A car hit me. Look at my clothes.” He showed Vincent his torn, mud-racked clothes, dirty from the road and the front of the car. “She — the angel — saw me die and she helped me get back into my body. I swear it’s the truth.”
Vincent started at him long and hard enough for Haki to start squirming. His gaze was hard and penetrating, as if the man could read his soul. Haki was helpless but to sit there and let him do it.
Eventually Vincent leaned back in the chair. “Interesting.”
Haki let out a mental breath. “What’s the plan, boss?”
“Handing souls back into bodies. It gives me an idea.” Vincent rose from his chair and walked to the picture of his father and himself on a fishing trip. His father held up a large fish they’d caught from the ocean, a giant cigar clenched between his teeth. The boy Vincent was looking at his father, smiling brightly.
Vincent touched the edge of the frame. “We could have had many more days like these,” he said. “But that murdering bastard Quade stole all that from me. I haven’t been able to get at him since his wife died, but now I might have a chance to right two wrongs.”
Vincent faced Haki. His eyes blazed with desperate yearning. “I want her. Get her for me. Don’t come back unless you have her with you this time.”
“But I don’t know where she is, boss.”
Vincent’s eyes glinted. Haki snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to anger his boss. “Track her down, you useless fool. Ask that priest friend of Quade’s. He always knows his whereabouts. For some reason he has a soft spot for the man.” Vincent turned back to the photograph of his father. “If he doesn’t tell you, make sure you leave an invitation that Quade will want to come and seek me. Personally.”
• • •
The door opened on squeaking hinges. It made no difference. They weren’t here for a friendly visit. This was business and the transaction would be fast. Haki would make sure that the outcome would be the best it could. He had an afterlife riding on his every action.
The priest was at the altar at the far end of the church, preparing for the Eucharist. He didn’t hear them. Haki let his footsteps fall heavily and they echoed through the inside of the church. The priest whirled around. A huge book was opened in front of him. He’d been reading it, and had been so absorbed that the men were half way up the aisle before the priest noticed them.
At the sight of them, the priest withdrew to the mantle behind the altar, taking the book with him.
Haki’s heart pumped so strongly he felt his blood ticking at the base of his neck and he started to perspire beneath his arms. The taste of bile rose in his throat. He didn’t want to be here, and he didn’t want a man like Ben with him. He would have gone back to Vincent with a story about the priest going missing, but before he’d left, Vincent had called Ben into his office and sent them away together. Ben was an unknown factor who relished his job. It didn’t bode well for the priest. Or for Haki’s inevitable future.
“That stupid priest, thinking we didn’t see what he was doing. I’ll teach him a lesson about hiding things from me,” Ben sniggered. He jogged up the few shallow steps to the altar, pulled the gun from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the priest who crouched on the floor at the base of the mantle. Haki followed, watching for the best placement so he might protect the priest as much as he could, but Ben had positioned himself in front.
The priest stood, staggering backward until he hit the tiled wall. Haki swallowed hard as his eyes stuck on the large granite stature of Christ on the cross hanging above the priest. “Why are you doing this? This is a house of God. If I had money, I’d give it to you.”
“We’re not after your money, priest. We want to know where Quade is.”
Haki lagged behind Ben. If he had to do anything, he’d do it to his back. The priest narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second, but it wasn’t missed.
Ben straightened his arm. The point of the gun nearly touched the priest’s nose. “No sense in lying. Cough it up, priest. Tell us where Quade is.”
The priest shook his head. “He has nothing to do with you.”
“He has everything to do with us and we want to know where he is.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me his daily whereabouts.”
Ben whacked the back of his fist into the priest’s cheek. There was the unmistakable sound of a jaw cracking and the priest fell to the ground, clutching his cheek, groaning in agony. Droplets of blood leaked between his fingers and splattered on the tiles.
Haki’s guts lurched. He stepped toward the priest, not knowing to do, sure in the knowledge that the evil red things watched every move he made. Ben glared at Haki, a question in his eyes. Haki needed to keep his cover, so he cowered back and away from the priest, hating that he was so weak. Ben sneered, baring his teeth, eyes lit with a malevolent gleam. He paced around the priest like a lion in a cage, watching, calculating his next move to destroy his prey.
Watching Ben was similar to watching the red things as they had circled Haki. He knew that feeling of being the prey. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to summon some courage. “Bro, don’t hurt the priest any more. If you break his jaw, he won’t be able to tell us where the cop is,” Haki said.
Ben glowered at him, brows drawn together. “Where’d that come from? You’re usually the first to throw a punch.”
Perspiration now prickled his upper lip. “I mean, Vincent won’t be happy if we go back with nothing.”
“Sure, Haki. We won’t go back with nothing. This priest’ll talk soon. It’s only a matter of time. Priests. They’re soft, you know.” Ben landed a solid kick to the priest’s stomach. He curled up, balled around the pain.
“I don’t know where he is,” the priest gasped.
“You’d better start thinking quick. Not even a phone number?”
The priest didn’t answer. Ben landed a fist into the priest’s other cheek. His eyes lolled back in his head, his mouth dribbled blood and saliva. Ben kicked the barely conscious priest onto his back. His arms flopped outwards and his head lolled to the side.
“There’s no way he’s going to give us anything now, bro,” Haki said.
Ben kicked the priest’s side and stepped back, disgusted when the priest merely groaned. “I hate priests,” he said, spitting on the priest’s robes.
Haki grabbed Ben’s upper arm. “Let’s go. Find where the cop lives,” Haki said, looking toward the door. He just wanted to get Ben away from the priest. Maybe on the way he could phone the ambulance to come to the church. That should count as some type of penance.
“Where’d he put that book he was reading?” Ben crouched in front of the mantle. One of the mosaics didn’t seem to be flat against the frame. Ben folded his fingers around the edge and the mosaic opened, showing the cavity behind. “Well, well. What have we here?”
Haki’s heart sank as Ben withdrew the old book the priest had no doubt quickly shoved in an attempt to hide it from them. He flicked open the pages, running the pads of his fingers over the pictures of angels and people. “This will be more help than the priest.”
“Let’s get going. We’ve been here too long,” Haki urged.
“Yeah
,” Ben agreed.
Relieved, Haki nodded and stepped down the altar steps to the aisle, wanting to get out of here as soon as he possibly could. He’d saved the priest and now had something to take back to Vincent. It was but a small step in his long path toward redemption. But it was a start.
A gunshot had him spinning on the balls of his feet in time to see Ben holding his smoking gun aimed at the priest.
“What’d you do that for?” Haki gasped, mouth falling open, dread replacing the relief of moments before.
Ben shoved the gun back into his shoulder holster and resettled his jacket on his shoulders watching the priest with heavy-hooded eyes. He slung a smug gaze at Haki as he jogged down the steps, brushing his shoulder against Haki as he walked past.
“I told you I hate priests.”
Chapter Twelve
“Okay. Do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Daman sighed, pushing the Chinese food carton away from him to join the jumble of empty boxes in the middle of the table. It was talk time.
After Angel had eaten, he’d run a bath for her, gave her a pile of fresh clothes he found in the drawers in the bedroom and told her to take a long soak. There were some measures of comfort to be found in a safe house. Pete had taken them to one of the better ones and for that he was grateful.
He took another chug of ice-cold beer they’d bought with the Chinese, savoring the taste of it in his mouth. “You’re going to have to promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”
“Does she involve anything illegal?” Pete asked, as he quirked a bushy brow. It arched high into his ruddy forehead. Between his strawberry-red hair and hardy complexion, he was the epitome of his Scottish heritage. Something that his surname of “Waterman” hid well.
“The complete opposite, Pete.”
Pete leaned back in his chair and took another pull of his beer. “With an angel like her, I’m glad to hear it.”
Daman choked, setting his beer on the table. “You know?”
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