by Dima Zales
“Okay.”
I swiped my leather jacket from the closet and shut the bedroom door behind us. “Alright. Let’s go hunt us some demons.”
12
I didn’t know much about the Albany criminal underbelly, but I had assumed deals went down in dive bars and smoke-filled billiard halls. The notorious Julius Fenton did not reside in either of these places. Instead, he was a manager at the Build-A-Bear workshop in Crossgates Mall. I wish I was joking.
Michael circled the inside of the mall as my back up. Fenton would be able to sense him, but we had heard that he worked both the angel and the demon circuit, so for the right price he would sell us the information. It wasn’t exactly against the rules for demons to be stoolies, after all. Sin was sin. Didn’t matter who they betrayed.
The mall closed in an hour, so I straightened my shoulders and walked into the shop, keeping an eye for anything suspicious. Cute little girls and boys tugged their mothers and fathers by the hand, their new best friends ready to be stuffed and clothed. It felt too weird for words.
An Asian boy in his teens smiled at me as I walked up to the register. “Hi. How can I help you?”
“I was wondering if your manager, Mr. Fenton, was in?”
“Sure, he’s in the back getting ready to close up. I’ll grab him for you.”
“See,” Michael said from the link in my ear. “Was that so hard?”
“Your sarcasm is really not helping me,” I muttered, tapping my fingers on the counter as I waited. We had borrowed the miniature microphone and ear bud from one of Michael’s cop friends. It made me feel like I was in an action flick, waiting for Arnold Schwarzenegger to burst in and beat up the bad guy. I watched way too many movies.
The boy returned with an older Japanese fellow with grey hair and deep frown lines in his forehead. Furthermore, he didn’t have the same uniform as the kid. His navy suit was expensive and pressed to perfection. Not what I expected. Then again, were demons ever predictable?
His brown eyes widened as he spotted me. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
I took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about a specific order for an important client.”
He searched my face for a long moment and then waved a hand. “Sure. Come with me. I’ll just be a moment, Kevin.”
I followed him to his office in the back, wiping my sweaty palms on the legs of my jeans as I went. No one jumped out to grab me. That was definitely a first.
He closed the door behind us when we reached his office and took a seat, eying me. “So you’re the Seer.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I waited for him to say something else.
He tilted his head a bit and continued. “Thought you’d be taller.”
I bristled. “I’m average height, thank you very much. Should we get down to brass tacks?”
Fenton spread his hands. “What do you want? Clearly it’s not to take me in, or you’d have brought the pretty boy with you.”
“Okay, I changed my mind. Shoot him,” the archangel said. I almost smiled. I was the only person allowed to call him that, apparently. Instead, I kept my face blank. “We want to know if someone tried to fence the museum items stolen yesterday morning. We’re prepared to make a generous offer if you cooperate.”
“Oh? Have the archangels gotten so desperate that they would directly fund an illegal operation?” He folded his hands on the desk and tapped his thumbs together.
“I wouldn’t put it that way. More like choosing the lesser of two evils.”
“How so?”
I shrugged. “Well, they could either pay you, no muss, no fuss, or kidnap you and torture the information out of you.”
Fenton tossed his head back, letting out a bark of laughter. “An angel? Torturing a demon? I’d like to see that.”
“He keeps this up, and he might,” Michael growled in my ear. I bit my lip to stop a second smile. The grumpy Peanut Gallery was not making this any easier.
“The offer’s on the table. What d’you say?”
The demon dug his pinky finger inside his ear, giving me nothing but a cool look for a handful of seconds. “Well, my pockets are a bit light these days. Ten thousand bucks and I can give you what you need.”
“Which is?”
“The occupation of the person who ordered the break-in. I’m not exactly in the know these days, but I do keep my ears open.”
“So they didn’t try to fence the weapons to you?”
“Nope. Didn’t try with any other of the low level fencers in town either. They want the stuff here in Albany for a reason.”
“And that would be…?”
He smirked. “Money first, jou-chan.”
I scowled at the term. I’d watched enough anime to know what it meant—the equivalent of “young missy.” I dug into my jacket for the already-signed check from Gabriel. I wrote in the amount and handed it to him. He took a moment to verify its validity and then spoke again.
“Word is that there’s an archdemon in town. Not sure who yet. He or she has plans to bump off the pretty boy to give our side the advantage. All I know is they’re a doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?”
“Don’t know. Don’t much care. None of my business anyway.”
“We just paid you ten grand for some vague crap that anyone could have said. You’ve gotta give me some kind of details.”
Fenton’s eyes narrowed and Michael chimed in. “Easy, Jor.”
I tried again, keeping my voice level. “Is it Belial?”
“No. He’s still down below after you and the angels smoked him.”
Some of the tension in my back relaxed. I was safe for now. “Do you know when any of this is going down?”
“Before the week’s out. I’d be careful if I were you, jou-chan.”
“Thanks.” I cocked my head to the side, murmuring into the mic. “Anything else you need me to ask?”
“No. That’s good enough. Let’s not test our luck.”
I left the office, letting out a relieved sigh as I exited the shop. Michael met me at the food court and we headed outside into the cool night air.
“Is it really okay to pay off a demon? Sounds sketchy even to me.”
Michael clucked his tongue. “O, ye of little faith. It’s not a normal check. It’s got a microchip with a tracker inside it. The second he goes back to his lair to store it with all his other ill-gotten gains, a strike team’ll take him out. He won’t go away forever because he’s got good lawyers, but it’ll keep him off the streets for a while.”
“Impressive. So what now? All we’ve got is confirmation, no real details.”
“I’ll start digging to see what I can find on his doctor claim. In the meantime, we’ll help Jacob cross over tomorrow.”
“Busy week.”
“Isn’t it always?”
He nudged my shoulder, giving me a fond look. “You did good in there. Maybe you should’ve been a cop instead of a waitress.”
“Nah. Outfit’s too uncomfortable.”
Michael raised his eyebrows in surprise. “When were you in a cop uniform?”
I flashed him my most mischievous smile as I flagged down a taxi to take us home.
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Jacob was exactly where we’d left him when we got back to my apartment. His eyes found mine when I walked in the bedroom, tossing my jacket on the bedspread.
“Any luck with your memories?”
The boy shook his head. “Sorry.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. “Well, there’s no rush. Hopefully we can get more things done in the morning. In the meantime, you’re welcome to stay here.”
He adopted a curious expression. “What will we do until then?”
“We’ll make Michael read stuff to us.”
With that, I turned to the angel who was currently giving me a dirty look. “Right?”
Michael smiled, but I could tell I’d
annoyed him. “Why not?”
Inwardly cackling, I climbed onto the bed. Jacob hovered next to me, seeming interested in the books Michael removed from the bag.
“Any requests?”
“Hmm…why don’t we start with the Odyssey?”
“Do you have any idea how long that is?”
“Guess you’d better get started then, huh?” Defeated, Michael seated himself on the side of the bed and cracked open the book. I settled in, closing my eyes as he began reading. Some small part of me couldn’t help but think: I could get used to this.
Thunder roared overhead, shaking the bedroom walls like an earthquake. Rain smacked the windowpanes and the glass trembled. They weren’t the only things shaking in this room. Darkness pervaded every inch of my vision, but I could feel—and what I felt now was unlike anything else. Heat, firm skin, thin cotton sheets, and strong muscles.
Soft lips devoured my throat, climbing higher to the spot where my jaw met my ear. Strong arms wrapped around my back, holding me upright and pressing me against a man’s smooth chest. His hands stroked the length of my spine. Shivers rolled down my skin. I buried my fingers in his hair. I couldn’t see him, but something about his touch felt familiar. I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I felt safer in his arms than I ever had in my entire life.
He grabbed my waist and rolled us over, crawling above me. His lips found mine in the dark and the kiss sent shuddering waves of pleasure down my body. My hands slid up to his shoulders and wrapped around the back of his neck. My thighs parted. Then, complete and utter bliss. Even without sight, we somehow moved together as one. Seconds before I reached the edge, lightning split the skies, giving me a brief glimpse of the man above me. Brown hair. Full lips. Green eyes.
Warmth brushed my cheek. I stirred, tilting my face away from it. It was probably just sunlight. Which meant it was morning. Boo.
I lay motionless on my left side, unwilling to move a muscle since my bed was so warm. Surely I could grab another hour or so of sleep. I curled my legs in a bit to get more comfortable, but frowned when I felt them touch something foreign. Not a book, which happened sometimes. This ‘something’ was warm and alive.
I cracked one eyelid open and found myself staring Michael in the face. He was lying next to me, eyes closed, with the book resting below his chin. That wasn’t the most pressing thing, however. Sometime during the night I’d scooted closer, and his hand rested on the curve of my hip, almost possessively. Each time he exhaled, it spilled hot air across one side of my face. I stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out how to react. Then the dream rushed up to the surface of my mind like a tsunami. I felt my entire body tense as I realized who the man in it had been. Son of a bitch.
Michael made a small sound in the back of his throat and opened his eyes, looking right at me. Neither one of us moved. I ventured to fill the awkward silence first.
“Um. Hi?”
The archangel smiled in a sleepy fashion. “You always know the appropriate thing to say in social situations.”
“I am human, after all.”
“I keep forgetting,” Michael said, sliding his hand away from my waist as if it were nothing unusual. He rolled over onto his back and yawned, stretching his tall frame. I ignored the admittedly nice view and instead forced myself to sit up, wondering where Jacob had gone. The thought didn’t last long, because all I could think about was the fact that I just had an incredibly dirty dream about an archangel and then woke up accidentally cuddling with him.
“Jordan?”
“Huh-what?”
He gave me a confused look. “I asked if you were hungry.”
Apparently not for food, a little voice cackled in the back of my head. I promptly told it to shut up and just nodded. He stood and left the room in search of breakfast. I watched him go and concluded that I was definitely going to Hell.
The clock read half-past noon, confirming that we’d stayed up for most of the night reading Homer. I couldn’t remember which one of us had fallen asleep first. That was when it hit me.
I didn’t have nightmares last night.
For a moment, I just sat there with my mouth slightly agape. For the first time in two whole years, I’d slept through the night without waking up bathed in sweat or crying. For the first time in two years, I hadn’t needed the strong whiskey in my nightstand to help calm me down enough to rest. Why now? Was it because of Michael?
“Jordan?”
I glanced upward to see Jacob standing in the doorway. On reflex, I smiled at him so he wouldn’t worry about how I had looked a second ago.
“Hey, kid.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No, everything’s fine. I think today we’ll take you around the city to see if you recognize anything.”
He nodded, and then wandered back towards the kitchen. I slid to the edge of the bed and stood, stretching. By now, my right hand no longer hurt and the stiffness in my neck had decreased significantly. I could feel the bandages beneath my shirt shifting as I moved. Michael would have to change them soon. That would be especially interesting after that vivid dream.
After choosing an outfit from my closet, I started to shove the hangers back towards the rear, but then my hand touched something covered in plastic. Strange. I hadn’t gone to the dry cleaners in a while.
I pulled it out. It was Mr. N’s duster. I thought I had lost in the alley when Belial attacked me. Pleased, I stripped off the plastic and ran my hands over the clean fabric, fingertips brushing over the places where the sleeves had been sewn back together. Something warm unfurled in my chest. Somehow, this was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
Still, seeing it made me feel too vulnerable so I placed it back into the closet and gathered my undergarments to go take a bath.
Twenty minutes later, just when I finished putting my underwear on, I heard Michael knock on the door and open it before I could grab my robe.
“Hey, I—” He stopped in mid-sentence.
I picked up my robe from the floor and slid it on, facing him.
“Yes?”
“Jordan…your back. Why didn’t you tell me?” He shut the door behind him and motioned for me to turn around.
I sighed, allowing the soft wool to slide down enough to expose my lower back. Along the base of my spine were faded brown scars—some long and thin like string, while others were thick and twisted like snakes. Michael hadn’t seen them when he wrapped my chest because I’d made a point not to lower the robe enough for him to notice. I knew he’d ask about them.
“Belial didn’t do this, did he?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then who?”
My voice came out soft. “Aunt Carmen.”
He took in a sharp breath. I shivered as his fingertips traced the nastier looking ones closer to my backbone. “She couldn’t hit me where people might see. Didn’t want someone to call the cops on her.”
“Jordan…”
I shook my head and pulled the robe up, tying it. “No. I’m tired of talking about me. I want to hear something about you for once.”
My eyes found the silver chain around his neck with the tiny padlock still intact. “When did you get that back?”
Michael seemed like he wanted to argue, but he merely sighed. “Raphael fixed it. He’s always been good with his hands.”
“Is he the one who sewed up my duster?”
“No, that was me. I figured you’d want it back, since he meant so much to you.”
Again, a warm spot filled my stomach. How could he stand to be so sweet to me all the time? “Thank you. Seriously.”
“You’re welcome.”
I gestured to the necklace. “Where did you get it?”
His green eyes flickered with an unknown emotion as he wrapped a large hand around the padlock, almost as if it were a reflex. “I bought it from someone not long after I lost my memory.”
I sat down on the edge of the tub and motioned for him
to continue. Michael grabbed the First Aid kit from the sink and pulled up the folding chair that had been pushed into the corner, rewrapping my chest as he told me the story.
Michael hated clothes shopping, but felt it was a necessary evil after the incident. The police had recovered his wallet and Visa card, meaning they’d also found where he lived. Turns out the same person who robbed him and knocked him out also emptied out his apartment. After a long call with the bank he got the identity theft straightened out, but that still left him needing to buy all new furnishings and clothes. He hadn’t been able to find out where his substantial savings had come from since he didn’t have a job yet. He assumed he was an orphan who had been left an inheritance and left it at that.
After getting turned around a couple times, he located the men’s sections and started shifting through the endless sea of blacks, blues, and browns. The entire situation seemed humorously absurd. He had no clue who he was so what sort of clothing defined him? Jeans? Slacks? Shorts? Pin-striped suits?
“Can I help you, sir?”
He heard a female voice from behind him. A woman selling men’s clothes. Well, of course. He prepared to tell her to leave him alone, but ended up rooted in the spot like a moron. This girl was flat-out gorgeous. He didn’t even notice what she was wearing, because her smile blew the rational part of his brain right out the back of his skull. Dark brown hair, grey eyes, long lashes, smooth ivory skin—he wondered if it was even legal to let girls like her out in public.
After a moment he realized he hadn’t answered her question, so he cleared his throat and offered her a smile. “You can start by not calling me sir.”
She chuckled. “Sorry. I’m supposed to say that to everyone. What are you looking for?”
Michael threw up his arms. “To be honest, I have no clue. I’m supposed to be getting a new wardrobe, but I have no idea where to start.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll definitely help you get there. My name is Diana.”
She offered a slender, manicured hand. He shook it. “Michael.”
No matter how many times he said it out loud, it felt weird to him. He supposed it was because he didn’t have any physical recollection of someone saying his name: no mother, no father, no teasing children at school, no over-zealous big brother hanging the syllables over his head in an obnoxious way. It was just a name. Like he was just a man.