She yanked at the zipper on her skirt and shoved her feet into a pair of flats. “Remember you wanted nothing to do with him. He betrayed you, so get over it.”
Her brain screeched to a halt. She needed to get over last night, not his betrayal. She wasn’t ready to let that go.
I slept with him, doesn’t that negate the anger? Nope. You two didn’t make love. You fucked.
Guilt twisted her insides when it shouldn’t. They’d done nothing wrong. She’d done nothing wrong. She had to stop this mental spiral but couldn’t. Had she forgiven him and hadn’t realized it? Digging deep, she searched for the bitterness and hurt festering within, and found it. Not in the same quantities and not with the same sharp edge, but yeah, it was still there, simmering.
She had to stop obsessing. It was one night. One night… He wouldn’t leave without some sort of word. That wasn’t like him. He just wouldn’t.
“Something happened.”
Sophie snatched her phone out of her purse only to find it dead. The charger was at her mother’s house and, of course, she couldn’t remember any phone numbers. “Damn it!”
She packed up all her things. The decision to check out and stay at her mother’s house had been made yesterday at the spa. Driven by a quiet sense of panic, she rushed to her mother’s home.
Ellen greeted her from the rocking chair on the porch. Sunhat on her head, instead of a wig, shades hiding her eyes. The tissue crumpled in her hand and her red nose gave her away. She’d been crying.
Sophie rushed up the stairs and dropped to her knees in front of her mother. “What’s wrong?”
Ellen wiped at her nose before saying, “My chemo doesn’t start until next week. I want to go away.” Her voice hitched at the end and she took a staggered breath. “Just get in the car and drive. Wanna come?” she asked.
Sophie heard the unspoken plea. Please come! Don’t let me do this alone.
“Um.” She had to call Chay, see what happened. She couldn’t go on a road trip if the UnHallowed were in danger. Then reality slapped her. She was already on a road trip and they were UnHallowed. Even if the world were ending, they didn’t need her help. What a depressing thought. “Sure, I need to charge my phone before we hit the road, okay?”
A weak smile tugged at Ellen’s lips. “Okay. I’ll make us brunch for the trip.”
They entered the house, Ellen headed for the kitchen, her gait stiff, measured, as if each step required forethought. Sophie headed to the guest bedroom at the end of the hallway. She didn’t make it past the master bedroom.
The spotless, orderly room of a few days ago had been visited by a tornado. Seemed every piece of clothing in every drawer and closet had been tossed onto the bed or floor. And they reeked of bleach and urine.
“I admit I went a bit cuckoo last night. I called him to talk and his fiancée answered his cell. He was too busy taking care of his son to be bothered. How do you have a fiancée when you have a wife?” She hiccupped, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Anyway, she told me to hurry up and die. How does a woman who’s given birth days ago tell another to hurry up and die?” Puzzled, she shook her head. Sophie hoped her mother didn’t expect an answer because she had none.
“Anyway,” Ellen continued. “I hung up the phone and I thought about what you did at Ozzy’s grave. Something snapped, and I dragged out all his clothing and everything he’d bought me and well, you can smell what I did. He texted me an hour ago, said he’d be here later to get the rest of his things.”
Not much Sophie could say after that, except, “Well, let’s eat and we’ll get this road trip started.” She plugged in her cell and guided her mom to the kitchen.
“I’ve been thinking. I’ve never been to Key West. It’s an eight-hour drive. We could take turns,” Ellen said between bites of food.
Sophie had never been to the Keys, wasn’t on her destination bucket list. “Sure, we can go for a few days.” Sun, sand, surf. As if Florida didn’t have enough of that already, but if this was what her mother wanted. “It’ll be nice.”
Her phone had returned from the dead by the time they’d consumed the chicken salad sandwiches and chips her mother had provided. Then came the debate as her finger hovered over his phone number. Calling made her seem needy, clingy, but this wasn’t about what they did last night. Not really.
Fuck. Why was this so hard? A few days ago, she knew exactly what she wanted, one night couldn’t possibly have changed that. One night hadn’t. Chay had. The phone came to life in her hand.
“Speak of the devil.” Why did he call instead of showing up? She swiped her finger over the screen. “Hello?”
“Sophie.” He said her name as if it were a prayer. Her insides warmed at his deep rasp. “Your phone was off. I’ve been calling,” he growled.
“My phone was dead.” Why did you leave? balanced on the tip of her tongue. Ah, fuck it. “What’s with the phone calls when you could be here in seconds?”
He sighed, and his frustration echoed through the phone. “I can’t. Not without placing you and your mother in danger.”
Danger. That could only mean one thing. Knees suddenly Jell-Oed, her ass plopped onto the bed. Her thoughts spun back to Siberia with her guarding Dina’s back, terrified, but fighting to get to Chay and the rest of the UnHallowed. Did she need a weapon? Could she get a weapon if she needed one? No… If things were that bad, Chay would be here. He wouldn’t leave her high and dry. “What’s going on? Is it Scarla?”
“Scarla’s still recovering. It’s not her. Amaya and Dina were attacked. Demons tried to take them. They failed.”
Of course they failed. A former angel and a half angel, the fight must’ve been epic. She would’ve been there with them if she hadn’t left. Fighting beside them. In danger again.
“People were injured. Some badly. Not by the UnHallowed. Demons don’t care who they hurt in order to achieve their goals. Having you here, with me, us, places you in danger. You’re safer away. So, you were right. You were right to leave.”
Sounded like it hurt to say. Not often a man says you’re right. Too bad she couldn’t savor the moment. “So, what does that mean? I can never come back?”
“Not never, just not now.”
She nodded against the rising panic in her chest. “So, I’m banned from Detroit? Some demon has banned me from Detroit?” Just because she bolted from the city didn’t mean she planned to stay away forever, especially when everyone she cared about lived there. And since when couldn’t the UnHallowed protect her? He wasn’t telling her everything.
“You’re not banned,” he ground out, between clenched teeth she guessed.
“Fine.” She ignored him. “I can’t come there. What does that have to do with you calling me and instead of coming here and telling me this yourself? Are you hurt, Chay? Is that what this is, you’re hurt and trying to keep it from me?” She rushed to her feet, her purse in hand, ready to head to the airport and fly to Detroit with her mother in tow. To hell with Key West.
“I’m fine.” He sounded pleased at her worrying over him. “Everyone here is fine. The truth is, they can trace us, and that puts you in danger. If I come to you, they may be able to find you.”
She planted her ass again. “I thought they couldn’t get onto the farm.”
“They can’t. As long as Amaya’s name is on the deed, the farm is safe.”
“So why can’t I stay there?”
“You want to be stuck at the farm indefinitely? Can’t leave for any reason. Is that the life you want?”
She couldn’t argue that point. None of what he said sounded appealing. She’d be stir crazy within a week.
“I’m sorry.” His sincerity came across the phone. “I won’t take away your freedom and imprison you, regardless of how much I want you.”
“No. Not your fault,” she said, fighting back tears. She wanted him too. No use denying it.
“I wanted to wake up with you,” he murmured.
His voice caressed her, stro
ked her breasts, her thighs, kissed the backs of her knees, awakened her in ways she’d never imagined. “I woke and you were gone,” she whispered, her throat ached from emotions she couldn’t express. “I’m still angry, Chay.”
“I know, and you have every right to be.”
His sincerity blunted her anger. “I’m not bitter anymore. I’m not…over it, but I understand why.” The silence between them was thick. “I forgive you.”
“Thank you.”
There were other things she wanted to say, not over the phone. Some things needed to be said in person. “Listen. Ellen wants to take a road trip to Key West.”
“That’s a good idea. There’s a world out there waiting for you.”
Her and Ellen in a car for eight hours? That was a disaster movie. “I’ll send you pictures of me on the beach.”
He groaned. “Not fair.”
Ellen leaned on the doorjamb. “Are you ready? I wanna leave before Bobby shows up.”
“Sure, Mom. Give me a sec.” Sophie pointed at the phone.
“Is that Chayyliél?” Grinning, Ellen bounced on the balls of her feet.
Sophie nodded.
“Tell him I said hey.” Ellen walked away chuckling.
Sophie climbed to her feet. “I have to go.”
“Drive safely,” he commanded, all softness gone from his voice. “If you need me, I will be there.”
If she needed him, she scoffed. Needing him became more apparent each day.
She snorted, not surprised at his highhandedness. “I will. I’ll call you when we get there.” I love you almost slipped out as if it were the natural end to their conversations. “I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone before something ridiculous tumbled out, then wished she had the nerve to say it.
“I’m ready, Mom. Let’s blow this pop stand.”
~~~~~
Pilar eased herself into a seated position, her head almost too heavy to lift and her brain swimming with each movement. She studied the gray walls of her bedroom, the white curtains trimmed with silver, the sunlight pouring through the parted wooden blinds, the pile of discarded clothes draping the corner chair, the open door to her walk-in closet, and lastly the soft feel of the three hundred count duvet on her bare calves.
She took all of this in, along with the unease spiking her bloodstream. Something was wrong, what she couldn’t quite say. Something was subtlety altered in ways she couldn’t explain. The unease had settled in her bones, she felt it with each breath. She continued to scan the room, every detail catalogued in her brain, still she couldn’t specifically discern the difference.
She suspected it would be obvious once she discovered what had her so wigged. For now, she scooted to the edge of the bed, swung her legs over, and stood. Two seconds upright and her ass hit the mattress. All of her hurt like someone had taken a tire iron to her.
Had someone taken a tire iron to me?
She searched her memory, ran her hands along her arms, chest, and abdomen. She came up blank, on all fronts. Not only of some potential, random beating she may have survived, the entire night was a blank.
Pain spiked her temples and scattered images scrolled through her brain. She remembered getting dressed and glanced down at her clothing. Yep, same dress she’d decided on, though it was beyond wrinkled and stained, as if she’d taken a roll in a vat of mud. What happened? Again, white noise filled the spot that should’ve been occupied with memories. She remembered arriving at the convention center for the mayoral fundraiser.
And… Her brain fogged. A blanket of static blocked the memory waiting on the other side of her gray matter. She pushed to her feet, fought against the wave of inertia demanding she remain in place. She stumbled, her bare feet barely registered the plush carpet.
Pilar looked down, wiggled her polished toes and—Where are my Saint Laurents?
Images exploded in her head. The bathroom! The darkness! The monster!
A scream ripped from her throat and her back crashed into the wall next to the bed. Her legs gave out. She grabbed onto the nightstand and the lamp, clock, glass of water, everything became a casualty as she slid to the carpet. Panting, she squeezed her eyes closed, then snapped them open because she couldn’t stand the dark. Besides, it wasn’t real. There was something in the liquor, a drug, narcotic, hallucinogen that caused her mind to throw out some fucked-up delusions.
“Wasn’t real. Wasn’t real,” she chanted and ignored her trembling limbs. “All a dream. Just a dream.” Say something enough and it will become true.
By the time she crawled to the bathroom, her heartbeat had slowed, the trembling had ended, all was right in her world. She climbed up, believing the lie. What really happened last night, whatever she couldn’t remember, would have to stay lost in the folds of her mind. And she was fine with that. Just fine.
Dear Lord, she was a mess. Staring into the bathroom mirror was brutal. Her hair was askew, her waterproof mascara had smudged, transforming her into a cockeyed raccoon, and everything else had made like a mudslide.
She flipped on the water, waited a second for it to heat, then grabbed her facial soap. Searing pain seized her hand. She jerked it out of the warm water and flipped it over. The back was red from a burn marring the surface on the fleshy part of her thumb.
“How did I—”
All of it flooded back, in HD detail the night replayed. Every horror, every terror—her designer heel embedded in the eye of the monster and whatever came out of him landed on the back of her hand—and ended with her in Kushiél’s arms, as he flew.
She crumpled, and her ass landed on the decorative tile she took hours picking out in the home décor store. He flew. She hadn’t imagined it. He had wings. And he flew. He brought her home, lay her on the bed and told her…
“What did he say?” She remembered his voice. It was gruff and raspy, but his words eluded her. She shuffled forward to retrieve her first aid kit from underneath the sink and sprayed some Neosporin on the back of her hand. A bandage over the area made her feel as if she’d done something, though she acknowledged it wasn’t much.
Sitting on the floor, she wrapped her arms around her knees and held herself together by the force of her will. The monsters were real, proven by the very real burn on her hand. And Kushiél carried her in his arms as he flew.
God! How am I going to wrap my brain around this?
He brought her home when he didn’t know her address.
Wait a sec! Where’s my phone? My purse? Probably still at the convention center. Probably lost under the rubble. The memory of Kushiél shielding her from the roof caving in flickered through her mind like a silent movie circa 1900.
The truth was never something she feared, and she’d come too far to start now.
Answers, that’s what she needed. Pilar pushed to her feet and stared boldly into the mirror. She didn’t see the disaster, she saw a woman who was used to getting what she wanted.
Today she wanted answers. And she knew exactly who to get them from, even if she didn’t know where to start.
She would know and nothing would stop Pilar from the truth. Nothing.
Pilar stripped off her grimy clothing, showered in record time, and dressed. Her Mercedes was still at the convention center, so today she’d take the Porsche. She hopped in, started the engine and pressed the garage opener. Before she could shift into reverse, Landon, her ex-lover, and soon to be ex-business partner, pulled into her driveway.
“Damn it!” Her journey to the ‘burbs would have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Crossroad demon known as Celine trudged through the fields in Siberia. Twelve days after the battle and even after days of rain and below freezing weather, the field still bore effects of the battle. Where once vegetation covered the field in front of the mansion, the bare ground remained. In the distance, the shell of the mansion loomed. She remembered the house during its heyday in the 1920s. While Russia went through the revolution, demons reveled in wha
tever debauchery they desired with Malphas as the generous, indulgent host.
Malphas. An unwanted smile tugged at her lips. Not always the reaction when thoughts of him seized her mind. Their relationship had ended badly and much too soon for her liking. She wanted an eternity, he wanted one month.
One. Month.
Then he met Lizette. A human, Satanist. Malphas remained faithful to his love for five years, until she met an untimely death, at the mansion. What a tragic, horrific accident. The poor woman had a nut allergy. How did those peanuts find their way into the house? Malphas never did discover how or who did the deed, that didn’t stop him from cutting a bloody swath through his rank and file, searching for the one who took Lizette’s life.
Such. A. Pity.
The battle replayed in her head. She was there, on the fringes of the field, hiding in the shadows of the trees. She had no brute strength, was master of none of the martial arts. Had no powers other than the power of persuasion. Yet, she was about to deliver the victory to Aiden that none of his allies could. Oh, the irony. She would achieve what Taige, Aiden, and thousands of demons failed to do.
The female she sought hadn’t entered the mansion, so there was no need for her to check it out. The Halfling UnHallowed battled on the left side of the field. She was captured and brought to Taige’s attention near the altar. The other Halfling—half Angel, half human—her grace filled blood was all over the place, and not what Celine needed.
Slowly, she moved to the altar, her senses alert for any trace of the human’s blood. It was fortunate the field hadn’t been saturated with human blood. It would’ve made this task more difficult and difficult was not her forte. Manual labor belonged to the unskilled brutes populating the Demon Army. Not a Crossroad demon of her stature. One whose name would be recorded in Hell and in Heaven.
The wind kicked up, bringing a whiff of decay and something charred. Not surprising since Taige had skinned a few of the UnHallowed. That must’ve been fun. She hated missing it, though she did hear their screams. A symphony to her ears. She danced to the tune their pain created.
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