by Nina Bangs
“I’m Passion, and all I wanted to do was to try one of your fantasies. Holgarth gave me the part of the vampire’s mate. I think I’m all fantasied out for the next twenty years or so. They’re too intense for me.”
She looked up at him from under her lashes to see if he was buying her story. “I think I want to go up to my room now.”
He’d evidently decided she wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things because he nodded absently. “Sure. Go ahead. But don’t give up on the fantasies, most of them are tamer than this one was.”
Ha. With all the evil nonhumans cluttering up the castle, she’d bet death and destruction had permanent reservations here. She didn’t answer him as she stumbled from the room. Passion knew she should find Hope first, but all she wanted to do was collapse into bed and forget tonight.
But somewhere between the dressing room and her longed-for bed, she picked up a shadow. The gray cat paced beside her as she trudged down the long hallway to her door.
“Damn, a good fight just makes me feel tingly all over. Too bad Bain didn’t rip Edge’s head off.”
Startled, she looked down. The cat’s voice in her head still felt creepy. “You saw it? I didn’t see you.”
“I was hanging in the shadows. You were a little busy, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me.”
“What was really going on between those two? And why do you hate Edge so much?” Surprisingly, she found she didn’t want Edge to be a hate-worthy person.
“Bain was pissed because Edge was the one who heaved him across the landing. Don’t blame Bain a bit. And I hate Edge because he deserves it.”
He stopped and waited while she fumbled in her pocket for the big old-fashioned key they’d given her. The hotel was into authentic.
“But since I’ve sort of answered your question, maybe you can answer mine.”
Anything to get rid of him so she could think. “Sure.”
“You’re not an angel, so what are you?”
Passion dropped the key and didn’t even notice as it rolled into a shadowed part of the hall. She stared. Finally, she relaxed. He was crazy, of course.
She’d use it to her own advantage, though. “Then I guess I’m just an ordinary human. You’re the one that assumed I was an angel, so I played along. Aren’t you supposed to humor the insane?” She widened her eyes and tried to look innocent. Passion had lots of practice at home.
Ganymede yawned, showing sharp little teeth. “Give me a break. You’re not human.” He wore a waiting–by–a–mouse-hole-for-dinner–to–arrive look in his feline eyes. “I think you believe you are, though. Strange. A real angel would’ve known about me. They all do. Think about that, sweetheart.” Then he turned and disappeared down the winding stairs. The last thing she saw was that arrogantly waving gray tail.
Sighing, she bent down to retrieve her key.
It was gone.
4
Edge picked up the key and slipped it into his pocket. Then he leaned against the wall and waited for Ganymede to leave. The cat thought he was at the top of the Big Boss’s food chain. But he couldn’t sense that Edge stood invisible close enough to reach out and touch Passion. Even he couldn’t see Death coming.
Edge forgot about his contempt for Ganymede, though, in the wake of what the cat had said about Passion. Angel? Not angel? What the hell was going on? Determined to find out, he waited until Passion was crouched, searching the floor for her key, before he walked back to the top of the stairs and became visible.
“Having a problem?” He tried to sound mild and nonthreatening as he walked toward her.
She gasped and rose to face him. “Where’d you come from?”
“Sorry that I startled you.” He wasn’t. “After Bain and I settled things, I decided you deserved an apology.” He didn’t miss the flash of fear in her eyes. Not surprising. His fight with Bain had been pretty spectacular.
“Is Bain okay?” She sounded concerned.
Something primitive and violent opened its eyes and tried to uncurl inside him. He shoved the feeling aside. He had no desire for strong emotions. They could be dangerous when you wielded Death’s sword. “He’s fine. And yes, I’m fine too. Thanks for asking.”
Passion ignored his sarcasm. “You have some explaining to do.” She glanced at the floor again. “I lost my room key.”
At least she didn’t sound scared. “I have a master.” Silently, he drew out his key and unlocked the door.
“So you can get in anytime you want? Wow, way to make me feel secure.” She didn’t try to hide her eagerness to escape him.
He kept his hand on the doorknob. “I’d like to come in for a few minutes.”
She glanced up at him and then away. He sensed her need to step inside and slam the door in his face, but beneath that need was something else, something he couldn’t read.
“If I let you in, I want explanations.” She didn’t look happy about the bargain she was proposing.
He nodded, and then he dropped his hand from the door. It had to be her decision. He wasn’t sure why. It’s not as though he couldn’t force her to tell him what he wanted to know and then be on his way. Edge pushed aside the sly voice in his head that suggested he wanted more than information from her.
She sighed, opening the door so he could slip inside. She didn’t close the door. “We’ll make this quick because my roommate will be back any minute.”
When had a roommate arrived? Male or female? She slid her fingers through her long pale hair, and he followed the motion with eyes he feared were a little too hungry.
“Okay, forget subtlety. If you try to strangle me and stuff my body under the bed, I’ll scream loud enough to raise the dead.” She frowned. “Forget the raise-the-dead part. No one can do that.”
“If I ever tried to kill you, I’d be a lot more creative than that.” He smiled. “Mind if I sit down?”
She didn’t return his smile. “You don’t need to sit down because you won’t be here that long. Oh, and I need a new key.” She paced over to the arrow slit that passed for a window and peered out into the darkness.
He sat down. She wouldn’t get rid of him that easily. Leaning back in one of the easy chairs grouped in the small sitting area, he spread his legs out in front of him. It felt good to sit down after his battle with Bain. The demon couldn’t take him, but Edge knew he’d be hurting for at least a few hours until his body healed. Damn hell spawn.
Passion looked ticked off that he’d planted his butt on her chair, but she didn’t make a big deal about it. She returned from the window and sat down across from him. He was glad that he’d taken the time to change from his bloody costume before coming up here. No need to freak her out completely.
“Did you see what happened to the woman playing the virgin?”
What did that have to do with anything? “Nope. Afraid I was busy trying to stay alive at the time. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering. Bain dragged her with him when he hit the wall. She was pretty woozy. And what the heck threw him across the landing anyway? He seemed to think you did it.”
“I did. And she was fine when I left the great hall. She’s already forgotten about it. Holgarth took care of her.”
“From what I saw of the wizard, that’s not too reassuring.”
She paused for a moment, and he had the feeling she was working herself up to something.
“So you were able to heave a grown man across the landing in absentia. What are you? And what was that between you and Bain?”
“That was an accident, but Bain didn’t give me a chance to explain. He’s impulsive that way.” Now for the tough part. “Ganymede said he talked to you outside.”
“You talk to cats too.” She didn’t seem surprised.
Okay, had to be careful here. “Did he explain anything?”
Passion avoided his gaze. “He might’ve mentioned something. Vaguely. He wasn’t too clear on the concept.” Sighing, she looked back at him. “He was very cl
ear with his threats, though. So, I’ll let you introduce the subject.”
Edge smiled. “Probably the term ‘cosmic troublemaker’ came up.”
“Probably.”
“Do you really want to know?” He watched her grip her full bottom lip between small white teeth. When she released her lip, the wet sheen of it almost made him groan. She was as sensual as her name, but he didn’t think she had a clue about it. His body tightened. Great. Just freaking great.
“I need to know.”
An odd wording. He shrugged. If Ganymede had already flapped his kitty lips, then who was Edge to keep the secret? Besides, the worst that could happen was she’d run screaming from the hotel. A part of him thought that might be a good thing. He didn’t need sexual distractions now. But the part of his body with all the overexcited nerve endings wanted her to hang around for a while.
“Ganymede, Sparkle, and I are all cosmic troublemakers.”
She nodded. “I figured that out. Same weird eye color.”
He narrowed his gaze. She was taking this a little too calmly. “We were created sometime after the primordial ooze made its appearance. We’ve been around a long time.” He didn’t actually know the when or the by–whom of it. His first memory was of being exactly as he was now. No carefree childhood for him. He popped into existence and went right to work. It still bothered him sometimes when he allowed it to.
“Why didn’t I know?” Her frustrated mutter didn’t seem aimed at him.
He didn’t think she’d meant to let that slip, because if she were human, she wouldn’t be expected to know about their existence.
He decided not to point that out to her. “Each of us has a…talent, but we all have the same goal—to spread chaos in all its interesting forms throughout the universe.” If that didn’t send her sexy feet heading for the door, nothing would.
“What’s your talent?” She stared unblinkingly at him.
Don’t tell her. And just because he really didn’t want her to know, didn’t want to see the horror in her eyes, didn’t want her to shrink from him, he told her. “I’m in charge of death.” No good could ever come from her thinking kind thoughts about him, so now it would never happen.
She was good. If he wasn’t watching for it, he never would have noticed her flinch, her small gasp, and the clenching of her hands in her lap. Tough lady. Or maybe just stupid. Because no one who knew what he was stuck around long.
“What about Bain? He doesn’t have amber eyes, but he was looking pretty freaky there at the end.” Her hand trembled as she pushed a strand of hair from her face.
“Demon.”
“Oh, crap.” Her soft murmur was the first obvious emotion she’d shown. “Okay, losing it here. Too much weird info at one time—cats talking in my head, cosmic troublemakers, and now a demon.” She widened her eyes, injecting lots of panic into her expression.
Edge didn’t believe her I’m–just–a–poor-confused-human act. She was faking it. He might not allow himself any real emotions anymore other than the inconvenient lust he was feeling now—not that lust really counted because it was merely a physical reaction—but he recognized true emotion in others. “I’ve answered your questions, now I have one of my own.”
“What?” Wariness replaced panic in her gaze.
“I heard your conversation with Ganymede a few minutes ago. So what are you?”
“I’m not an angel. I. Am. Human. Ganymede is deranged.” She breathed deeply and then took a sharp right turn in the conversation. “So you’ve killed people for thousands of years?”
“Yes.”
Silence. She seemed to be waiting for him to soften his “yes,” drop in a few qualifiers. He didn’t.
Something moved in her gaze. Disappointment? Horror? Disgust? All of the above? He didn’t give a damn what she thought of him.
“Let’s get back to you and the angel thing. I might not be a Ganymede fan, but if he thinks you’re not human, then you’re not. He doesn’t make mistakes like that.”
“Why don’t you like Ganymede?”
“He’s an arrogant dickhead.”
“Got it.” She stood. “You can leave now.”
He noticed that she wasn’t already on her way down to the registration desk to check out. That would be the normal reaction for a human. And Ganymede was right. Over the thousands of years of his existence, he’d met a few angels. They’d all recognized him for what he was and tried to destroy him. They’d all failed. He smiled at the memories.
“You think this is funny? A normal person pays to stay at your hotel and then they’re assaulted by…talking cats and accused of being angels? This is a hoot to you?” Anger colored her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. “I think you and your fiends, uh, friends, need to make a group appointment at the nearest mental health facility.”
He couldn’t help it, he grinned. How long had it been since a human really amused and fascinated him? Edge couldn’t remember. “An angry angel. Love it. You should stay mad. It’s hot.”
She blinked. “What?”
He waved his comment away. “Never mind.” He stood. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” He allowed himself the pleasure of imagining her in her bed, her long pale hair spread over her pillow, her hand stroking his…
Okay, moment of pleasure over. He headed for the door. “I’ll send someone right up with a new key.”
His last glimpse of her before he closed the door behind him was of her watching him from those beautiful eyes. However, the calculating gleam in those eyes wasn’t quite so gorgeous. He smiled. That was fine with him. He liked scheming women. They were never boring.
He’d only taken a few steps toward the stairs when it hit him.
The killing cold dropped him to his knees, tore at his mind with clawed fingers. Kill Ganymede. Each word was a steel spike pounded into his brain. This wasn’t hot rage. This was an icy compulsion that froze all thought. He gasped for breath as he felt his control oozing out through the holes in his head. There had to be holes. Nothing could hurt this much unless there were holes.
Edge fought to hold on to all that he’d become over the centuries. He wouldn’t regress to the ravenous beast he’d been in his early years, a mindless killer. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. But this time he couldn’t stop the force driving him to kill, couldn’t hold on to the last few strands of reason slipping away.
“Are you sick, dear?”
The woman’s voice wavered with age, trembling with concern. He opened his eyes.
Very old, with a halo of white hair surrounding a face creased with wrinkles. Her eyes were shadowed by worry.
“Can I get someone to help you?”
“Get away from me.” He didn’t even recognize the savage snarl as his. An icy film slowly crawled across his vision as he rose to his feet. Kill.
• • •
Passion leaned her back against the closed door and drew in a deep calming breath. It didn’t work. Panic still gripped her.
Death. How did she begin dealing with him, with any of them? She didn’t handle these kinds of…people. She worked with the small stuff—comforting, guiding the unsure toward the right decisions. All of which she did from the safety of her home. No face–to–face confrontations, just soothing strokes and whispers into troubled minds. Troubled human minds. She did not take on the physical manifestation of death. Passion didn’t have the power to go mano a mano with Edge or Ganymede. Right now, she didn’t have any power.
For a moment, an image of the virgin lying on the landing, her neck twisted at an impossible angle, flashed in her memory. No, she hadn’t brought her back to life. That was ridiculous. The woman obviously hadn’t been dead. With only her human senses, Passion couldn’t be sure about when someone was really gone. She shoved the image aside.
She felt nauseous. Not a physical reaction she’d ever experienced before. Confusion and fear tore her stomach into tasty bits for her personal demons to snack on. They took time out from their partyi
ng to remind her that she was way out of her league here, and to suggest that if Ted wanted to get rid of her—after all, she was a major thorn in his mighty butt—this would be an excellent way to do it.
What were her options? She could try to do what she was sent here to do—work with her limited skills to turn those at the castle away from evil and let Hope send nightly reports back to home base. Or…she could fill Hope in on the full scope of the horror here and have her send for the avenging angels.
Passion would be off the hook. The avenging angels would destroy Edge, Ganymede, and Bain—maybe Sparkle could be saved—and that would be that.
A tiny cowardly voice in her mind shouted, “Let’s hear it for the avenging angels.” Her boring cubicle waiting back in her boring office with her boring boss waiting to give her more boring assignments was looking pretty good right now.
But it felt wrong on a whole bunch of levels. She’d be branded a failure, not able to cope with her assignment, a whiner who ran for help at the first sign of trouble.
Whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo, whatshouldshedo—Passion closed her eyes and fought back her rising hysteria.
One truth rose above her mental chaos. She didn’t want to see Edge destroyed, and that didn’t make a bit of sense. He was an abomination, but…She opened her eyes. She felt like she was drowning in emotions after an existence without any. Is this what she’d wanted to experience as a human? It wasn’t as much fun as she’d expected.
The pounding on her door interrupted her thoughts. Someone couldn’t be here with her key that quickly. Turning, she opened the door.
An old woman stood with her fist raised, ready to start pounding again. “Please, get help. There’s something wrong with that man.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’m so upset that I can’t find my cell phone to do it myself.”
Passion looked past the woman to see Edge striding toward the stairs. “Edge?”
He paused, and then slowly turned to face her.
She instinctively stepped back. What stared at her had no relation to the man who’d just left her room. His eyes glowed, and Death lived in his stare. No recognition showed in those eyes.