by Harley James
So many of my memories are crowded with blood. His death wound burned and pulsed. Sydney shifted in the chair behind him, but he refused to turn around to see her revulsion. It didn’t matter what she thought of him. The past was unchangeable.
“You saved her.”
It wasn’t a question. He shook his head and stared down at his expensive shoes. “After being brutalized by four men, I doubt she felt saved.”
“But they might have killed her.”
He’d never know. He finally turned toward Sydney, steeling himself. Her eyes hadn’t lost their shadows, but neither had they clouded with contempt. He felt unworthy about her acceptance of his culpability. “She wouldn’t have been in that situation if I’d been an honorable man to begin with.”
“I don’t think it’s ever too late for redemption. Why don’t you? You’re the one living a second chance.”
“Because I’m a first-rate asshole and being nice, selfless, and compassionate never gets bloody easier!” He paced around the room, his cheeks and neck flaming at his loss of composure. Way to blow your stack, you undignified pillock.
“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a test.” She leaned back in the chair and folded her hands on her belly, the sword resting across her thighs. “Sometimes…sometimes I feel like Tiana is a test. And then I feel ashamed.”
By the final word, Sydney’s whisper had dropped so low, he had to strain to listen. “My love and resentment for her are twined so closely together I don’t know how to separate them. She’s so strong, so resilient. Yet she makes the same bad decisions over and over. All the unnecessary scares and worries she’s put mom and dad through… and continues to put all of us through. It seems so selfish. But then, how can I understand the trauma she suffered before she came to live with us? Who am I to judge how she battles her demons?”
Spencer didn’t move, didn’t almost dare breathe when she was unburdening herself like this. She didn’t seem like the type who dropped her guard very often. He hoped not. Not because he didn’t want her to have confidantes.
Because it would mean she trusted him.
Because she thought enough of him to let him in. Especially after running away from him.
She raised stricken eyes to his. “What if she runs away because she senses my resentments? Am I not, then, just as guilty as her earlier abusers?”
Spencer shook his head, never so desirous for the ability to reassure. He drew a slow, deep breath to center himself and sat down again, elbows on his knees just to lean in closer to her. “I don’t know all your sister’s struggles, but I do know that love is never perfect. Like all of us, it is flawed and fraught with insecurities. I have only known love in small quantities, but even in its imperfection, it is the greatest of all gifts. Though your sister may feel some of your irritation, I would wager that your love outweighs any negativity.”
Her chest rose and fell on a cleansing breath, her smile soft. “I hope you’re right.”
He forced his muscles to relax, pushing back in his seat like he wasn’t some green-about-the-ears, gobsmacked sprog, but knowing full well he was.
“I’m spot on, goddess. And besides all that,” he waved his hand in the air, trying to regain some emotional control, “your sister is now a grown woman. Surely, in your infinite reasonableness, you know that you cannot take responsibility for her choices.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I do know that. I just don’t want to miss any opportunity to reach her, you know? I never want her to feel ostracized or unsupported in any way.” Her gaze drew inward. “According to mom, Tiana still hasn’t been in touch with anyone. Her birthday is in three days. I want to bake her a cake and watch as she blows out all the candles.”
Spencer was determined that she would. “What can you tell me about Tiana that will help me discover her whereabouts?”
Sydney blinked, her awareness returning to the room. “She’s been in Potrero Hill by the freeway before. Once at St. Boniface. Another time she stayed in a tent encampment under Highway 101 in the Mission neighborhood. Sometimes she couch-surfs. Sometimes she has enough money to rent a cheap hotel room to shower up and have an entire, worry-free night of sleep.” Sydney’s brow furrowed. “It all depends on how long she’s been clean. I’m sorry. It’s not much to go on.”
“It would seem she stays to the eastern districts, so that’s helpful. Do you have a picture of her?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I did…In fact, I had multiple pictures…on the phone you so conveniently threw out the car window earlier today.”
“Yes, well, it avoided all manner of inconveniences.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Her face had lost much of its openness, but he no longer sensed fear or hostility. For that much, he was grateful.
“Nevermind the picture. I have ways of ferreting out information on the streets.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she mumbled, but he gave her sarcasm a pass because of the dark circles that were growing more pronounced as the night wore on.
And he needed to focus on making a plan. He’d stream along the highways in the Mission, Potrero, and Dogpatch neighborhoods for Tiana, then move north toward the gritty Tenderloin area where a large percentage of the city’s homeless population congregated.
First though—
“My mom assured me they’re in a great place, but please, I’d really like to see my family soon. I think it would go a long way to reassuring all of us.”
He nodded and stood. “It will be a priority as soon as I’ve identified where Baal is. I’ll bring them here for a visit, then I think it’s best if we send them to Minneapolis where Nate and Jessie can keep an eye on them.”
“Okay.”
“Excellent. I’ll have a server sneak away from the floor to bring you some tea. Then you should get some sleep. It’s been a long, trying day.” He didn’t want to leave her, but he cared for her rest and well-being more than he wanted to gratify himself.
And that was strange.
“I don’t think I can sleep with the loud music.”
He couldn’t resist running his thumb across her cheek. “Try.”
He was almost to the door when she spoke again.
“Why even have Guardians?”
He turned back. Her fingertip traced the sword’s blade that still rested across her thighs. “What do you mean?”
“Why can’t angels handle demons themselves? Aren’t humans supposed to have guardian angels?”
It was a fair question. One he’d asked rhetorically—or more often, in anger—dozens of times over the years. Only one explanation made sense.
“Humanity was given free will, and with that comes responsibility and suffering. I don’t pretend to understand it all, but should the time come when the angels’ assistance is needed, that is when the final trumpets will sound, and humankind’s time on Earth will be over.”
She raised her eyebrows, twining her fingers together, resting her wrists on the sword. “You sound like the narrator at the beginning of a sci-fi movie.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “This is no fiction.”
“So the Angels can only intervene when the Guardians can no longer protect humans and the relics?”
Spencer nodded.
“What could make the Guardians’ protection fail?”
Her eyes were so blue. He hated to see fear begin to darken them again. But she deserved the truth. “We fail if demons overwhelm us and acquire enough of the sacred relics.”
Her silence wasn’t a pondering sort of hesitation, but rather a do-I-really-want-to-know reluctance. Spencer waited.
Ultimately, her pragmatism prevailed.
She untwined her hands, pushing them away from her body, palms out like she was surrendering herself to the worst he could tell her. “So what would the demons do with the relics?”
Here it was then.
No turning back if he told her.
She’s probably already deduced the heart of it. Yes. She wa
s intelligent and religiously educated—if what he’d learned about her family was any indication. But she was the type of person who needed to know what she was up against so she could get to the other side of it.
She understood honesty and candor best of all. No games or prevarication for his Sydney. Thank God.
He walked back toward her and squatted down until they were eye level. He put his hands on her chair arm rests and held her gaze, unblinking. “Should demons amass enough relics, they will be able to decipher the code to unlock Satan from his prison, unleashing Hell on Earth.”
Chapter 23
Sydney grasped the thumb-sized vial of holy water in her right hand and a crucifix in her left as she moved down the hall from Spencer’s safe room. It was near midnight, the DJ’s heavy bass rhythmically thumping against the walls like a paramedic pounding out CPR on a dying man’s chest.
Hard to believe that twelve hours ago she’d been sitting at her parents’ table having lunch with her family. That half a day felt like a lifetime.
Talking to them on the new phone that Spencer had provided reassured her that they were safe. Laura and the rest of her Torque family, too, though they were worried about their jobs. Fortunately, Spencer had offered to pay everyone’s salaries for six months until Sydney could get back on her feet.
She didn’t want to think about how that might beholden her to him.
For now, he’d extracted a promise that she’d keep holy water and a crucifix nearby at all times.
She wouldn’t try to escape as long as she had freedom to move about the building…and he brought her family under this roof within twenty-four hours.
He’d left to do just that, assuring her she’d be well protected by his in-house security. So she shoved the crucifix in her jeans’ back pocket and the holy water in the front pocket, uncertain of where she would actually go or what she’d do in the club, but she had to get out of that bunker.
Had to move.
Anything to stop thinking about how things had blown up in the space of twenty-four hours. How was her business ever going to recover? The chain reaction of this archdemon butting into her world didn’t seem to end.
Inferno’s dance floor remained packed even though the foyer’s glass doorway revealed that the blizzard was still in full-court press. All that snow. It was so strange.
As she moved through the hypnotic glow of the nightclub, snatches of lovers’ quarrels, drunken bravado, and foreplay crowded in from all sides.
Growing up the oldest of nine, she’d always relied on her ability to read people’s nonverbals. Spencer’s body language spoke eloquently. More importantly, though, his body cues matched his spoken words. As her initial shock and resulting panic had waned, she began to think more clearly.
Well, as clearly as you could about things like angels and demons and the non-humans who stood between humankind and the end of the world.
Spencer’s desire to protect her and her family seemed genuine. The question she couldn’t answer was why? What was in it for him—other than the colors she supposedly brought back for him. Surely that wasn’t enough to saddle him with that big of a responsibility. And even if he did feel responsible for their welfare, he could easily pay someone to deal with the problem.
That would be far less messy and disruptive to his lifestyle.
Sydney rubbed her forehead and came to the end of the ebony granite bar where Shadow Barnes swayed to the music as she mixed three martinis, the glasses arranged in a triangle, like expensive bowling pins for high rollers.
Her round afro was pulled smartly back by a tight, invisible headband, allowing her arching black brows, luminous brown eyes, and sculpted cheekbones to take center stage. Men of all shapes, sizes, and colors were taking note. Several women, too.
Shadow looked up and met Sydney’s gaze, her warm smile melting into concern. She turned back to a tall, broad-shouldered man with a blond afro and a fuzzy black beard. Monochromatic tattoos covered both arms from his wrists up past the sleeves of his white t-shirt.
Wow. He had to be another Guardian. Either that, or he was amped up on some mega steroids.
Shadow pushed all three martinis toward him. “You, shoo now. Can’t you see this little lady needs to sit a spell?”
The man took all three drinks into his massive grasp, his lips tilting in a full-on lady-killer smile. “You’re determined to bust my heart, Shadow.”
She waved black-painted fingernails in the air in front of her, not bothering to squelch a flirtatious smile. “You ain’t got no heart to break, Neo, so you just git.”
“Everyting irie, lil’ momma. Someday you’re gonna come lookin’ for some of this. I’ll be ready.” Neo leveled another hot look at Shadow before turning to wink at Sydney, then melted into the crowd with all three drinks.
Sydney slid onto the vacated stool, still warm from Neo’s overwhelming body. Shadow’s large silver hoops brushed her shoulders as she cocked her head, filled a glass with a clear bubbling beverage, and set it in front of Sydney. “You alright, love? You’ve had a rude awakening to all this evil business.”
That was putting it mildly. Sydney took a sip, then hiccoughed from the carbonation. “Can’t really answer that yet.”
Shadow nodded. “They about had to put me in one of them straight-jackets when I found out demons were real.” Her soft brown eyes made Sydney’s throat tighten. “Guess they keep their secrets for good reason, yes?”
Sydney couldn’t disagree, but it still didn’t feel right. “Humans are being deceived on an epic scale.”
Shadow raised an eyebrow, wiping down the bar top with a white rag. “I grew up in Louisiana where my granny was always trying to scare us about devils ridin’ on our shoulders when we misbehaved. Seems to me, it’s all in that Bible for anyone who cares to read it.”
“Not the part about Guardians, though. That man—Neo—he’s one, isn’t he.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty fresh, though. He only just died a few years ago in Jamaica. Still hasn’t tangled with enough older demons to temper his cockiness.”
A young, stick-thin woman with tortoiseshell glasses sitting next to Sydney set her wine glass carefully on the bar. “What in the Sam hell are you chicks talking about?”
Shadow tossed the rag in a bucket behind her, then put her hands on her hips, smiling at the stranger, “Oh, just some light nightclub philosophy—Hell, demons, and everything that stands between us and them. You wanna throw down with all that?”
The woman’s eyes widened behind her glasses. She eased her wineglass toward her body and slipped away from the bar without another word.
Shadow shrugged with a cheeky grin. “Don’t look at me like that. I told her straight.”
Sydney smiled weakly. “Yeah, I guess you did.” She swiveled the glass in her hands. Time was wasting. She should be out with Spencer dealing with her family. Getting things in order. Helping them come to terms with everything. Ugh.
She set the glass down, but before she could get up from the stool, Shadow leaned over the bar, trapping Sydney’s right hand with her own. “You and your family will be alright. None of us have ever seen Mr. Jameson so twisted up over anybody. He’s a lot to take in most times, but I’ve been with him going on five years now, and I can tell you true, he takes care of his own. And from what I’ve seen in the way he looks at you, he ain’t about to let anything happen to you.”
Shadow released her hand and smiled so brightly a man three stools down yelled, “Damn, Shadow, send some of that sugar my way!”
Sydney had already moved into the press of bodies as Shadow’s good-natured emasculation commenced a new round of heart-breaking. She walked past the kitchen into a short hallway that led to a stairwell door. Spencer’s upstairs quarters.
Why wasn’t any security posted here to prevent people from wandering where they didn’t belong? Would the possessed man still be chained to Spencer’s office floor? She’d love to question the priest, especially if he was human.
She went up the stairs, hearing voices even before she turned the corner.
Arguing.
She ducked into an alcove to listen. A man and woman. The man with an accent similar to Spencer’s, but not as heavy, saying he was going to take Spencer’s robe. The woman saying they should trust Spencer to do the right thing.
The man retorted that he and Jessie—the angel—were better equipped to protect the relic.
“All his life people never believed in him, and it became a self-fulfilling prophesy. We’re not going to do that to him, Nate.” The woman’s voice was confident and feminine. Sydney immediately liked her. Then she remembered where she’d heard her voice before.
She was the one who’d told them Torque was on fire. The small, gorgeous Asian woman.
“The End Days must be near if our blood-thirsty female samurai is turning Chicken Soup for the Soul. Do you actually think the demons will care about Spencer’s feelings?” the man called Nate mocked.
Sydney peeked her head around the alcove, a gust of wind coming out of nowhere along with a rumbling beneath her feet. Before she could retreat, a woman appeared in the hallway outside Spencer’s office. Or rather, she landed, folding her white, iridescent wings.
Wings. Sydney couldn’t take her eyes off the angel.
“Jess, I told you to stay home.” Nate’s voice warmed as he addressed the angel. “San Francisco is the Wild West right now with the rephaim holding their idea of Rush Week across a twelve-block radius.”
“You know I hate coddling. I’ve got your six, loverboy.”
Their voices were rich with intimacy. Sydney blinked, her lower jaw going lax. Well…huh. The Guardian and the angel were a couple.
Jess the Angel continued, “Where’s Spencer now?”
“He’s gone to secure the redhead’s family.”
The angel shifted back out the doorway, sending a subtle smile toward Sydney’s hiding spot. “Oh, the redhead?”
Frick. She sees me!
“She’s fucking with Spencer’s equilibrium, God love her,” the Asian woman replied.
“Could she be his soul mate?” Nate asked.