by Dima Zales
Jared offered a hand and I took it, grateful as he pulled me to my feet. After a moment, I could breathe normally and returned to a defensive stance.
A couple people had stopped to watch us. I shot them hard looks, which made them wander off and pretend like they hadn’t been staring. I understood them, though. It wasn’t every day that a big black guy and an average height mixed girl with a bandaged chest and scars trained in a gym. Though I suspected they wanted to make sure he wasn’t wiping the floor with me, which he was.
Jared was a fourth-degree black belt. I hadn’t even had official martial arts training. Everything I knew about self-defense, I learned from him shortly after I moved to Albany two years ago. We met at the gym, and since he knew I couldn’t afford lessons, he took pity and taught me whenever he had free time.
His brown eyes wandered down my upper body and he paused, giving me a concerned look. “Need a break yet?”
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “Nah. Maybe in about ten minutes or so. What’s the verdict so far?”
He relaxed his 6’3’’ frame and I knew I was in the clear for at least another five minutes. Jared wasn’t the type to attack without warning. “Your reaction time has taken the biggest hit, if you ask me. The advantage you usually have over me is speed, and that’s nowhere present from what I’ve seen. For instance, when you raise your arms to block, it’s not very solid. I could break through it if I wanted to.”
I winced. “Got it. Anything I can do to fix that?”
He shot me a disapproving look. “Oh, I don’t know, bed rest like your damn doctor recommended?”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
Jared sighed. “Fine. If you swear up and down that you want to improve…yoga.”
“Yoga.”
“Yes, yoga.”
“Can you really see me in a pair of tights bending myself into a pretzel?”
He rubbed his goatee, adopting an amused look. “Y’know, it’s not a bad mental image.”
I flipped him off and he laughed. “I mean it, though. It’ll get you limber without stressing your body out too much.”
“I’ll take it into consideration. Now let’s go again.”
He sank into a defensive position. I launched myself at him, aiming kicks at him since my upper body strength had taken most of the damage from Belial’s attack. Jared blocked my blows with expert ease, hopping out of the way when I tried to trip him. I aimed a chop at his throat when I found an opening, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm, throwing me over his shoulder. I hit the mat with a solid thud, groaning as pain flooded up my spine in a startling rush.
Jared stood over me with a neutral expression. “You okay, tough guy?”
I waved a hand to dismiss the comment. “Sure. I’ll let you know when my dislocated vertebrae pops back into place.”
He chuckled, but then the grin disappeared when he spotted something over my head. “Uh, were you expecting company?”
“No. Why?”
Jared pointed. “Because there’s a tall guy heading this way who looks like he wants a piece.”
I tilted my head up to see Michael storming down the aisle between the mats with a death glare aimed in my direction. Great. Busted.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded when he was within earshot.
I sat up, rolling my shoulder to make sure it hadn’t popped out of alignment when Jared tossed me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You told me you were going grocery shopping.”
I glanced around. “Hm. Must’ve gotten lost on the way there.”
Michael closed his eyes and I swore, it seemed like he was counting to ten. Instead of hurtling another pissed-off comment in my direction, he turned to Jared and stuck out a hand. “Sorry. I’m Michael. I’m attempting to be her at-home assistant.”
Jared shook his hand and then glared at me. “You failed to mention that, Jor.”
I stood, bending down to touch my toes. In top form, I could press the pads of my fingers to the floor, but in my current state, I could barely brush the ground. Shit.
“You didn’t ask.”
Jared sighed. “Yep. Under the bandages, you’re still the same hardheaded moron as always. Guess I’d better get out of here.”
He started to leave, but then pointed at me with a stern look. “Don’t call me until you’re cleared with him, y’hear?”
I saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Jared shook his head and headed towards the locker room. Michael rounded on me as I grabbed my water bottle from my corner of the mat. “How long have you been doing this behind my back?”
I drank about half the bottle before answering. “Why? It’s only going to make you madder when you find out.”
“Jordan, I told you that you would have to take it slow for a while. Forcing your body to recover is only going to make things worse.”
“I’m not forcing anything. I’m preparing.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “For what?”
“For whatever the hell is coming for me next. I don’t want to get my ass handed to me again, thanks.” I turned away, heading towards the locker room as well. Usually, I’d take a shower because the gym here had pretty nice facilities, but the stitches couldn’t be under a showerhead until my skin healed. I’d have to head home and take a bath.
Michael followed me. “So what? Do you not understand the concept of a bodyguard?”
“I don’t want to be saved. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, because it worked so well last time.”
I whirled on him, poking a finger in his chest. “Don’t go there. You’re not gonna like where it ends.”
“And where is that? A hospital? Because that’s exactly where you’re headed at this rate.”
I threw up my hands. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”
“No, I don’t. So explain it to me.”
“This isn’t the time or the place, okay? Let me get my crap and then you can continue lecturing me on the way home. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” he growled.
I stalked into the locker room and let out a groan of pure frustration. My anger distracted me enough that I couldn’t remember the combination to the lock, so I just stood there and pressed my forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm down. I hadn’t wanted him to find out. I really hadn’t. He was supposed to be at band practice all night, so I’d snuck out of the apartment for a quick lesson. He must have gotten back early. I was never going to hear the end of it.
“Man trouble?”
I glanced to my right to find a blonde girl looking at me with a mix between amusement and sympathy. I let out a snort.
“You have no idea.”
One frosty, silent bus ride later, Michael and I arrived at my apartment. I took the longest bath possible to avoid the upcoming argument and redid my own bandages. They weren’t as neat and perfect as when Michael or Raphael did them, but they did the trick. The time alone gave me a moment to cool off and at least attempt to act like an adult.
A succulent smell greeted my nostrils when I left the bedroom. Something with tomatoes and broth. My stomach growled comically loud in response.
Michael stood in front of the stove where a big silver pot sat. He ladled some kind of soup into a bowl. Even though I was sort of mad at him, I still wanted to eat the food he’d made.
“Is that for me, or do I have to apologize first?” I asked.
“The great and powerful Jordan Amador knows how to apologize? I’m shocked.”
I contemplated kicking him in the shin. No. I was going to be mature about this if it killed me. “Well, if you get down off your high horse, maybe you’ll be able to hear it.”
“I really should have believed you when you said you weren’t a people person.”
“Yup.”
Sighing, Michael handed me the bowl. I dug up a spoon from the drawer before heading to the kitchen table to eat. The soup was
indeed tomato-based, but I tasted a hint of basil among the shrimp, clams, and mushrooms in it. I hadn’t tasted anything this good in months. Maybe I should apologize.
Michael sat across from me and we both ate in stagnant silence. When the last bit of soup disappeared, I decided to make the first move.
“How’d you find me?”
“Your phone went straight to voicemail, so I checked the grocery store and the surrounding area. When you didn’t turn up, I thought about where you might go to blow off some steam. Then I remembered you had a gym membership.”
“Am I that predictable?”
He allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “Only to me.”
I glared at him. “Ego isn’t a good look on you.”
“Thanks, that’s sweet.” The amusement bled out of his face, leaving it serious but with a softer look than before. One thing I did like about Michael is that he didn’t seem to hold grudges, even when I was in the wrong. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud.
“So what’s really going on here, Jordan? You know it’s dangerous to put that much strain on your body.”
“I don’t think it’s something I can explain to you.”
“Try me.”
I lowered my gaze to the table. “Look, can we just drop it for now? I’m not really in a sharing mood.”
“Fine,” he said, and the annoyance in his voice made me feel guilty. “There’s another reason I was looking for you. There was an incident this morning that I think we should look into.”
“What’s that?”
“A local museum was robbed. The thief took nine different pieces and killed two guards, injuring a third.”
“I’m assuming there are ghosts involved.”
Michael shook his head. “No. This has the mark of a demon on it.”
A chill trickled down my spine. I met his eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen me shiver. “Which demon?”
“I don’t think it’s Belial,” he replied in a gentler tone, and I relaxed a bit. “But I do think it’s something we should investigate, in case there’s something bigger in the works.”
“What makes you think it’s a demon’s work?”
“The items that were stolen are part of a new exhibit of cursed weapons. Scythes, sickles, machetes, spears, you name it. Most of them were imported from Europe. Some things can gain power when they are the cause of several deaths. You’ve probably heard of myths like James Dean’s car or the Hope Diamond, right? If an object is directly responsible for a large number of deaths, eventually it can become powerful enough to harm even an archangel. We can’t let them get out of the city, or any of the angels stationed on earth are in danger.”
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“I think we should talk to the injured guard and see what he has to say about the break-in, and then find out if anyone tried to fence the stolen property.”
I eyed him. “That sounds like something only the angels would need to do. Why do you need me?”
“The questioning I can handle, but talking to someone who fences stolen valuables isn’t my department. Demons in that bracket won’t talk to me, but they might talk to you.”
“So I’m a honey trap, then?”
He paused and then flashed me a winsome smile. “If you don’t mind.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear heels, I’m fine with it. When is this going down?”
“We’ll talk to the guard tonight, just to make sure the demon doesn’t try to make a move. I’ve ordered someone to watch over him, but better safe than sorry. We can start looking for potential criminals once we’re sure the demons are involved.”
Michael and I both stood, gathering our respective jackets. “Now there’s a phrase I don’t hear often enough in my life.”
The archangel held the door open for me with a grin. “Welcome to my world.”
11
As we strolled into the hospital, I couldn’t help thinking about Maroon 5’s “Harder to Breathe” because I was having a difficult time staying calm. I had been kidnapped and beaten senseless by an agent of Lucifer, and yet the white coats the doctors wore scared me just as badly. The men who had taken me from my mother wore those same damned lab coats. Every time I saw one, it awakened a dormant fear inside me—fear that I’d be dragged away from someone I loved again, fear that I’d be placed into the waiting hands of another horrible person. It would never truly go away.
Michael’s shoulder bumped mine, which shook me out of my thoughts. I glanced at him. “What?”
“You’re frowning.”
“Am I supposed to be smiling right now?”
He faced forward, looking at our reflection in the elevator doors. “No, but you look like you’re about to bolt at any second.”
I watched the digital numbers change one by one as we rose up to the right floor, fiddling with the rosary in the pocket of my leather jacket. Somehow, the beads had a calming effect on me. “I’m fine.”
“Hard ass.”
A tiny smirk touched my lips. “Stop thinking about my butt. You’re an archangel.”
He grinned, but didn’t reply.
The elevator bell rang and the doors slid open, revealing the shiny linoleum floor and baby blue walls of the recovery wing. I took a deep breath and followed the archangel out, resisting the urge to readjust the fake press badge clipped on my lapel. Imitating the press was much less dangerous than imitating a police officer or federal agent. It had been Michael’s idea. I suspected he had been watching Supernatural recently. It amused me to no end, especially considering the fact that he was a dead ringer for Jared Padalecki.
We walked down the hallway towards Robert Sterling’s room with confident strides. However, I noticed something odd along the way.
“Where are the angels you asked to keep an eye out on him?”
Michael came to a stop in front of Sterling’s room, frowning. “Good question. I called them on the way here and they said everything was quiet.”
“Am I the only one getting a rotten feeling right now?”
“No, you’re not.” He glanced down one end of the hallway while I examined the other. Among the doctors and nurses, I spotted a brunette woman in pink scrubs walking towards us. Our eyes met and she stopped about ten feet away. Her face went blank. I had seen that look before, but not on a person. It was the look of a big cat right before it struck—pupils dilating, nostrils flaring, lips parting to reveal its fangs.
“Michael.”
He followed my gaze and his spine straightened like a yardstick. He pushed me behind him as the demon walked towards us in a slow, hip-swinging stride with a sly smile on her lips.
She stopped less than a foot away, staring up into Michael’s face. “My, my. Humanity looks good on you, archangel.”
“You have ten seconds to get in that elevator and leave this place,” he said, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Rage, pure and simple.
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll leave in a body bag.”
“Ooh. Pretty sexy talk coming from you. Sure you can deliver on that?”
“Five seconds left.”
“Sounds tempting, but I’m on a deadline. The guard bites the big one so you idiots can continue scrambling around in the dark. I thought this would be a boring job, but since you brought your little pet along—” Her brown eyes settled on me. “—I think we’re gonna have a good ole time.”
“Time’s up. Decide.”
“Gladly.”
Her left arm swung so fast I almost didn’t see it. She drew a silver dagger from the small of her back and slashed Michael’s chest. He caught her wrist and swung his large fist at her head, but she ducked. She wrenched her arm free and dropped into a back roll. When she came up, she held a .9mm Glock.
“Gun!” Michael called out to the hospital staff just as the demon opened fire. He shoved me into the room opposite Sterling’s.
I slammed the door shut as gunshots echoed thro
ugh the hall, kneeling to make myself less of a target. There was no one in the room except me, so I didn’t have a panicking person to talk down, but there was still an armed rampaging demon right outside my door and my gun wasn’t handy. Perfect.
I pressed my cheek to the door and closed my eyes, listening to the commotion and trying to ascertain what was happening. I heard frantic shouts and footsteps, and the shots weren’t heading towards the elevator and the stairs. She wasn’t trying to get away. This demon was hellbent on completing her mission, which meant she’d have to get Michael away from Sterling’s room. The best way to do that was threatening the innocent.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, scaring the shit out of me. I fumbled with the device, relieved when I noticed it was Michael.
“Are you okay?”
“That’s a dumb question.”
“No, smart ass, I meant are you hit?”
“No. What’s the plan?”
“She’s trying to draw me out. That means she’s gonna head for you.”
“I figured.”
“Got any weapons on you?”
“Just the rosary,” I said, crawling towards the empty hospital bed and checking to see if I had anything to work with in the meantime. Nothing but a damned bedpan.
“They called security, but it’ll take at least ten minutes for the cops to get up here. Here’s what you’re going to do: lock the door and stand beside it. The second she kicks it down, hit her with everything you got. That should distract her enough for me to take her out.”
“Got it. And one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let her kill me or I’ll haunt the hell out of you.” I hung up and grabbed the thankfully empty bedpan, pressing my back against the wall next to the door. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, trying my best to remain calm. Silence permeated the air. I watched the light beneath the door until a shadow fell across it. Showtime.
The door cracked in half when the demon kicked it, sending splinters flying in all directions. I swung at her face with the metal bedpan, landing a blow on her forehead. Her head snapped back. It gave me a couple of crucial seconds. I swatted at her right hand, knocking the gun across the room. She recovered with a vicious backslap that sent me careening backwards toward the hospital bed sans my trusty bedpan.