Rebel Angel: A Sainted Sinners Novel

by Vivian Wood

  Watching Lucan, perhaps the most powerful being Vesper had ever encountered, scramble to get out of Stella’s way…

  Interesting, Vesper thought. It certainly begged the question: what’s big and bad enough to make the Fallen afraid? Lucifer’s daughter, apparently.

  Without a backward glance, Stella rose and strode out of the bar, hips swaying. People stopped mid-sentence and mid-sip to stare at her as she went, her four-inch heels clicking neatly on the wood floor.

  "Wow," Vesper said, shaking her head as she and Kirael got out of the booth. "She's something else."

  "You have no idea," Lucan murmured, still looking after Stella, though she was long gone. "'What, man, defy the devil.'"

  Vesper looked to Kirael, who shrugged and said, "Shakespeare, I think."

  "What's the deal there?" Vesper asked, nodding at Lucan.

  Kirael just shook his head and changed the subject. "We should probably order Lucan a bottle of whisky and leave him to it."

  Vesper laughed. Her jaw dropped a little when Kirael walked over to the bar, pulled out his wallet, and handed the bartender two 100s. After clapping Lucan on the back, Kirael shooed Vesper outside.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  Kirael looked thoughtful.

  "I could eat."

  "How about beignets? I could use some coffee and sugar."

  "Been-yay?" he asked.

  "Yeah, beignet. A French doughnut, I guess?"

  "I'm not really sure how I feel about beignets."

  "Uh... fried dough covered with a mound of powdered sugar? Is there any option other than ‘Fuck Yes’?"

  Kirael smiled and handed over the helmet. "You know the drill."

  He turned onto Royal Street and parked near his apartment.

  “Thought we could walk,” he said.

  “It’s nice weather for it,” she agreed.

  They strolled past a few blocks of shops and galleries, Vesper slowing to peer in a particular window.

  “Keil’s,” she said, nodding at the sign. “My favorite antiques store.”

  “I see that you’re more interested in the giant diamond rings than the French settees,” Kirael said.

  Vesper shot him a dirty look. “A girl can dream, okay? Come here.”

  Kirael came over, looking a little bored, and Vesper had to work hard not to stamp her foot.

  “Look,” she said, pointing. “That ring right there? One of a kind, bright canary diamond, set with baguette sapphires. I tried it on once, just to see if they’d let me. The shopkeeper was nice, but I could tell she wanted to roll her eyes.”

  “Why?” Kirael asked.

  Vesper gave him a funny look. “That ring is like… a million dollars. Literally. Some queen of Scotland owned it, I guess.”

  Kirael’s brows rose. “This is one of those moments where I realize that for all my time on Earth, I still don’t completely understand humans.”

  Vesper had to laugh at that. “Fine, don’t marvel then. Some people have no taste.”

  “Enough looking, more moving,” Kirael said mildly.

  Fifteen minutes later, they walked into Cafe du Monde in the French Quarter. The place was little more than a walk-up window next to a huge patio covered by a green and white striped awning... but it was undeniably delicious, and utterly New Orleans.

  "Ooh, a table," she said, grabbing the last one in the corner. "If I stake it out, will you get us beignets?"

  "Cafe au Lait?" Kirael asked.

  "The biggest one they have, chicory if they got it."

  Vesper brushed a little powdered sugar off the patio chairs and sat down, staring out into the street. People were strolling up and down the street, drinking and laughing. A horse-mounted cop went by, then a clown on stilts casual as you please.

  People gathered at the end of the block, watching a pink-feathered Mardi Gras Indian shimmy in time to the sound of a nearby brass band. Vesper often got lost in the everyday details of her life, forgetting how amazing her city could be.

  The moon was coming up, nearly full now, and the weather was a gorgeous seventy-five degrees. Plus, a hot man was heading her way with a tray of doughnuts and coffee. Life didn't get a whole lot better than this.

  Kirael set down the beignets and coffees, then returned the tray. When he came back, he pulled up his chair beside hers and sat down.

  "Street theater," he mused, sipping his coffee.

  "People-watching is one of my favorite things," Vesper admitted. "I'm pretty nosy by nature."

  "You?" Kirael teased, arching a brow. "I'm shocked."

  Vesper shot him a playful glare, then picked up a plate with a small mountain of powdered sugar atop a square doughnut. She took a huge bite, giggling as the sugar spread all over her mouth and nose.

  "Mmmm," she sighed, her mouth still full. "'S good."

  "I've never tried them," Kirael said, picking up his own plate.

  "What?" Vesper asked, swallowing. "Seriously?"

  "Yep."

  "Well, no time like the present," Vesper said.

  Kirael picked up the doughnut and bit into it, clearly struggling not to laugh. Then he made a strangled sound, a sort of shocked moan.

  "This is good," he said.

  "Duh," Vesper said, rolling her eyes. "There's a reason it's a classic."

  "Mmmf," was his only response.

  They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, watching people pass by, content to settle into their own thoughts.

  "So, how would you rate your first beignet experience?" Vesper asked once they were finished.

  "What's the scale?" Kirael asked.

  "Let's say one to ten."

  "Hmmm..." he said, pretending to consider it. "Eight?"

  "A difficult customer, I see," Vesper said. "Well, if the powdered sugar on your face is any indication, you liked the doughnuts just fine."

  Kirael chuckled and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better?"

  "Hah. Uh... not really. Come here," Vesper said, moving closer to banish a smudge of white from above his lips.

  Her thumb brushed over his upper lip, and their gazes suddenly locked. She shivered, her tongue darting out to wet her own lips. Vesper felt a little silly, but she couldn't help her reaction.

  Then Kirael took her hand, turning her palm up. Not taking his eyes off her for a second, he placed a slow, burning kiss against her palm, another over her pulse.

  Vesper made a soft sound, her lips parting. At once, they leaned into each other, lips crashing together. In seconds Kirael's tongue was stroking Vesper's, hands wound in each other's hair, coffee all but forgotten.

  For a few seconds, the world fell away from them, just as it had when Kirael carried her skyward in his arms. His taste was clean and masculine and heady, and Vesper lost herself in it.

  A pigeon swooped down, wings flailing as it tried to land on the table and make off with the last bite of Kirael's beignet. Vesper and Kirael jumped apart, and Vesper laughed.

  "Nice job, pigeon," she said to the bird as she waved it away from their table.

  Kirael stood. "Listen, Vesper..."

  Vesper looked up at him, then rolled her eyes.

  "Don't," she warned him.

  "It's not you—"

  Vesper stood, feeling anger surge in her heart.

  "Seriously? It's not like I keep pouncing on you," she snapped.

  "I didn't say that."

  "Well, you've said plenty."

  She brushed the remaining powdered sugar off her dark jeans and then turned to leave.

  "Where are you going?" Kirael asked.

  "Not your concern. I'll see you on the full moon."

  "Vesper, wait—"

  She headed toward the street car, fuming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kirael behind her. Whirling, she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  "Kirael, I fucking mean it. Do not follow me."

  He raised both his hands in a sign of surrender. With one last glare, Vesper charged o
ff in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from him.

  Dumb, dumb move, she told herself. Don't you ever learn?

  Picking up her pace, she wished she could abandon her self-doubt as easily as she'd left Kirael behind on the street...

  16

  Kirael

  Kirael paced the street outside Vesper's apartment, occasionally pausing to look up at the black wrought-iron balcony that he estimated was hers. Two nights ago, he'd let her walk away, knowing her anger and frustration were not without merit.

  He was going through a bit of a sea change, trying to adjust from old to new. Once, he'd been among Heaven's most exalted creations. Then he'd Fallen, becoming one of Lucifer's most prized bringers of death.

  In both capacities, he'd been intensely dedicated to his cause. Even after growing disillusioned with his work in Hell, he'd still carried out his duties with a fierce loyalty.

  In truth, he'd come to see Heaven and Hell as a sort of balancing cycle. Kirael saw it as being like the water cycle in the human world: rain falling to the ocean, then evaporating and rising to begin anew.

  Heaven and Hell were like that, if you observed from a distance over several millennia. Souls came into the world, lived on Earth for a short time, and then went to Heaven or Hell. Eternity was a relative term; eventually a soul would fade from existence, its energy flowing into the creation of a new soul.

  Or at least that was Kirael's theory. In truth, the process was unknowable. Still, Kirael had been a vital part of it, culling aging souls, making room for new ones.

  He was necessary.

  Here, on Earth? He was the same insignificant speck of dust as everyone else, and it felt...

  Frightening. Not to mention that his future was up in the air. Unless Lucifer or Metatron struck him down, Kirael would live on and on. No Heaven, no Hell... just Earth.

  Every time he saw Vesper, it just reminded him of all the new concepts he was struggling with. She drew him like a moth to a flame, but she was also human. Fleeting, fragile. A tender flower growing in a bed of thorns, danger blossoming all around her.

  In the short time he'd known her, she'd protected herself admirably. But a single chance encounter with any of Kirael's former comrades, and Vesper would cease to exist.

  Given that she had such a relatively short time on Earth, Kirael couldn't help but think that she deserved a lot more than the life she lived. She shouldn't be stuck hunting down demons in the dark, or endlessly trying to rescue her luckless sister.

  And she sure as Hell shouldn't be making eyes at Kirael. She should be with someone who could give her what she needed; Kirael couldn't even begin to guess what that might be.

  She should be with someone who didn't dream of all the people he killed. Someone whose soul wasn't soaked with the blood of a thousand kills. Or ten thousand... there was truly no counting at this point.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Kirael looked up to find Vesper approaching, her leather jacket slung over one shoulder, a grim look on her face.

  "Waiting for you," he said.

  She glanced up at her apartment, her brow knitting. "You shouldn't be here."

  "I didn't like how we left things the other night. I wanted to explain—"

  "No need," she said, cutting him off.

  "I think there is."

  "Kirael..." she said, crossing her arms, "You've made yourself clear. I promise you that."

  "I just want you to know it's not your fault," he said.

  Vesper rolled her eyes, "Please stop."

  "It's complicated, is all I'm saying."

  She glanced up toward her balcony again. Kirael thought he saw some movement inside.

  "Do you have a roommate?" he asked, narrowing his gaze.

  "Are we done here?" she asked, her tone sharp.

  “No. I have more news.”

  Vesper crossed her arms and canted her head. “So?”

  Holding out his right hand, palm up, he summoned a heavy set of iron keys. Holding them up for Vesper to see, he shook them gently.

  “Fancy skeleton keys,” she said, examining them. Each of six keys was long and thin, all different colors, each with a grinning skull at the end.

  “The keys to Lucifer’s private rooms.”

  He saw her relax a little, and she nodded. “Cool. How’d you get them?”

  “Beat the tar out of a Shkisa demon.”

  Vesper’s brows shot up. “I’ve never had the pleasure. I hear they’re nasty.”

  “Yeah. Well, this one defected from Hell last month. Once I tracked him down, he had plenty to say.”

  “More than just the keys?”

  “Yeah. A safe house, just a couple blocks from where your sister is being kept. He’s going to arrange for it to be empty on the day we need it.”

  She pursed her lips, thoughtful. He was glad that her curiosity seemed to have taken some of the edge off her anger.

  “How do you know we can trust him?” she asked.

  Kirael blew out a breath. “I don’t, but I think it’s the best we can do.”

  “Okay. Well… thanks,” she said after a moment.

  Kirael scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I was hoping you'd come back to my place, work through the plan for tomorrow night."

  She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

  "Okay?" Kirael asked, surprised. "Just like that?"

  "Just like that," she said. "If you can wait here for a couple minutes, let me grab some things from my apartment."

  "No problem," Kirael said, feeling suspicious of her sudden compliance.

  She gave him a long look, then blew out a breath. "Okay. Give me five minutes."

  Vesper vanished into her building. Kirael sat on her steps, sprawling out to wait. He closed his eyes and took in a couple of deep breaths, reminding himself of his purpose.

  Get The Book of Names. Find the Null. Prostrate yourself to Metatron, and hope for a positive response from Heaven. At the very least, prove the depth of your regrets...

  His eyes snapped open. He found a sickly-looking young woman shuffling up to him. Her ratty jeans and tank top smelled of cigarettes, and she had dark circles under her eyes like twin smudges of midnight ink. Her glassy-eyed, slightly open-mouthed expression screamed junkie.

  She was walking in a crooked path, but staring at Vesper's door with a singular kind of focus.

  "Hey, hey," Kirael said, quick to his feet. "You need something?"

  She halted and stared at him for a second. This close, he could see the bruises on her neck, her inner arms. She might be a drug user, but she was certainly regularly donating her blood to Vampyres. Straight from the vein, too.

  "V-v-vesper," the woman wheezed. "V-vesper Emery."

  She untucked a small white box from under her arm, waving it at Kirael.

  "You're not going in there," he said. Crossing his arms and straightening his back, he wasn't a bit subtle about using his stature to emphasize his words.

  "Vesper. Vesper Emery," she said again, blinking rapidly. He could see a little sweat break out on her brow, her pupils big and dark.

  "Give it to me," he said, holding out a hand.

  She stared at him again, calculating. "Vesper Emery?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "Vesper Emery," the woman said one last time, thrusting the box out at him. He took it; it was only a little bigger than his hand, maybe two inches thick. Like the gift box a necklace would come in, maybe. Light enough, though when he gave it a little shake he could hear a soft clink and thud.

  The strangest part was that it was tied with a bright red ribbon. That part made his stomach churn.

  "Okay. Go," he said, motioning for her to leave.

  Another moment of blinking, then she turned and shambled off, disappearing around the corner.

  Vesper swept out of her building, a black messenger bag wrapped around her torso.

  "Ready?" she asked.

  Kirael hesitated. "This was just delivered, supposedly for you.
"

  "What? Did you send it?" she asked, her mouth pulling into a frown.

  "No."

  "Well, give it to me," she said as she stuck out her hand, immediately losing patience.

  "I think I should open it," he said. "The messenger was... unusual."

  Vesper crossed her arms. "I don't know what that means."

  "I'm fairly sure that this is a delivery from the Vampyres," he said. "If I had to guess."

  All the color drained from Vesper's face. "Shit."

  "Yeah."

  "Okay. So open it," she said, biting her lip.

  Kirael stepped away from her, untying the bow and pulling off the lid. He froze.

  "Shit," he murmured.

  "What is it?" Vesper demanded. "Is it dangerous? Let me see."

  There was nothing in the world that Kirael wanted less than to show her, but of course he had no choice. He tilted the box so that she could see.

  Two thin glass vials, nestled in a piece of white silk. Each one held a bit of red liquid. Next to the vials was a small card. Printed on the card was: Drisgell House — Sample — Mercedes. At the bottom of the card there was a little arrow scrawled, indicating that the card should be turned over.

  Vesper made a strangled sound, her hand flying to her mouth.

  Feeling heartsick, Kirael turned the card over. Written on the back was a note: there's more where this comes from... but how much more?

  They’d sent her Mercy’s blood.

  "Ohhhh..." Vesper said, wobbling.

  Kirael moved to try to steady her, but she shrieked and jumped back.

  "Get that away from me!" she said, turning green.

  "Right..." Kirael said. "Should I throw it away?"

  "God, yes," Vesper said, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Just get rid of it, please."

  Kirael disposed of the box in a nearby trashcan, then returned to Vesper.

  "Come on, let's walk. I don't like the idea of the Vampyres knowing where you are," he said.

  Vesper dropped her hands, giving him a mournful look.

  "Kirael... they're going to kill her," she whispered, her voice breaking.

  "No, no..." he said, wrapping an arm around her. "Come on."