by Vivian Wood
Vesper shot him a look. “Well, aren’t you high and mighty?”
“It’s important to have a strong moral compass. Especially here in the mortal realm, where there are an endless number of choices. And an endless number of second chances,” he said, glancing skyward.
Vesper arched a brow. “You don’t have to get preachy. I was just making a joke.”
Kirael set his glass down and sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an unusual sense of humor?”
Vesper’s lips lifted a little at the corners, but she just canted her head and sipped her drink. Kirael had to drag his gaze away from her mouth, to keep his mind from automatically going to somewhere dark and intimate and breathless.
“Why are you here, Vesper?” he asked.
“Ah. Straight to business,” she said, flashing him a grin.
“It’s my preference, yes.”
“I want my swords back.”
Kirael pretended to think it over. “No.”
“I think you’re going to want me to have them.”
“I can’t think of a single reason why that would be true.”
“Because…” she said, turning in her seat and crossing her legs. She leaned forward a little, giving him a glimpse of tempting cleavage. “You wouldn’t want me to be weaponless when we’re sneaking into Hell together.”
Kirael stopped mid-sip, paused. He lifted the glass to shoot the rest of the burning liquor and slammed the glass down. Then he pulled out his wallet and threw some cash on the bar.
“This has been so entertaining,” he said. “Let’s not do it again, soon.”
“I have something you want. Information,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah? I did a little digging around, and I think you’d be very interested in what I know.”
“Well, I’m not.” He turned to leave, wanting desperately to get away from the pushy human woman who he found just a little too interesting.
And interesting was entirely the wrong word for what he found her, but he couldn’t even start to define the pull he felt to Vesper.
“What if I said I knew a Null?” she called across the bar as he strode away.
Kirael stopped dead in his tracks, then turned around ever so slowly.
“Say that again?” he asked, sure he hadn’t heard her properly.
“I know a Null. Someone that’s been in hiding for years, and probably isn’t going to be casually discovered by Heaven or Hell anytime soon.”
Kirael looked her up and down. She was perfectly calm and still, her face open and honest.
“You’re serious,” he surmised.
“Serious as a hanging in the town square,” she said, picking up her glass, knocking back the whole shot of bourbon.
Kirael considered her words for another moment, then held up a finger. “Stay here. Don’t leave.”
“Kay,” she said with a shrug, turning her back on him to flag down the bartender again.
“Don’t get drunk,” he ordered.
She shot him an amused look over her shoulders, her full lips curving in a way that made him wonder just how she tasted. Whiskey, with maybe just a trace of sweetness?
What the Hell am I thinking? he suddenly wondered, catching himself.
He whirled and stalked out of the bar, pulling out his cell phone. He crossed the street, thumbing through his contacts until he found Mere Marie. She picked up after three rings.
“What?” she asked.
Nice greeting, he thought.
“I need you to make some inquiries for me,” he said, launching right into it.
There was a long pause. “Oh?”
“I need to know where I would stand with Heaven if I brought them a big, big asset.”
Another pause, the sound of an exhale, like Mere Marie was smoking. “Kirael…”
“This is serious, Mere Marie. I think I finally have something they’ll really want.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she said in her thick New Orleans accent. “It’s just… you of all people should know that you can’t buy your way into Heaven.”
Kirael paused to absorb that. “That’s not my intention.”
“Since you’ve come under my supervision, I’ve never known you to talk of anything but getting back into His good graces. And I understand, Kirael, I really do. But this isn’t a tradeoff, and there are no guarantees.”
“I know that.”
“I honestly don’t think you do, honey. You don’t get to go to confession and repent and just be forgiven. You’re not human, and… well, you’ve done something very, very bad.”
“It’s been millennia since The Fall,” Kirael growled.
“I know. But… I just don’t want you walking around, thinking that you can go back. You can’t, Kirael. You can never go back.”
“I don’t expect… I don’t think I will ever be amongst the Heavenly host again,” Kirael said slowly, aggrieved. “I just want Him to know… to know that I am sorry. That I am repentant, that I have learned from my mistakes.”
Mere Marie was silent for several seconds. “I can convey your message, Kirael. I just don’t want you to hold a torch for something that cannot happen.”
“I can manage my own expectations, thank you,” Kirael said, trying not to lose patience with her.
“All right. What have you got?”
“A Null, I think.”
A pause. “Holy Hell.”
“I know,” Kirael said. “It’s unbelievable. The source is… pretty solid, I think.”
“This might bring some unwanted attention your way,” Mere Marie warned.
“That’s why I’m entrusting you to convey the message.”
“All right. All right,” Mere Marie mumbled, sounding thoughtful. “Let me make some inquiries. I will let you know what I find out.”
“Thank you.”
“You can thank me by laying low,” she said. “All I’ve heard the last couple of days are whispers about Lucifer wanting you dead, at any cost.”
“Yeah… it’s a long story.”
“So stay out of trouble for a few days, will you?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, then ended the call.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he headed back into Vaughn’s. Vesper was sitting on the bar now, laughing at something the bartender said. As far as Kirael knew, the human bartender was a normally silent and surly kind of man, but just now he was grinning at Vesper.
“Ah!” Vesper said when Kirael returned to his bar stool. “Jim here was just telling me the most interesting things about how Vampyres secretly run the French Quarter. Isn’t that funny, him thinking that there are supernatural beings running around, doing crazy things?”
She winked at Jimmy, who went red as a tomato. Apparently Kirael wasn’t the only one affected by Vesper’s long lashes and sapphire gaze. Or her perfectly shaped breasts, going by where Jimmy’s gaze seemed to be glued.
“Well, it’s just a rumor,” Jimmy muttered. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
“Another round,” Kirael said.
“Oh?” Vesper said, arching a brow. “Do we have a deal, then?”
“We have something to discuss,” Kirael said, pulling his best poker face.
Poker was a major pastime in Hell, and Kirael was fairly damned good at it. Still, Vesper was clearly aware of her own… attributes… and unafraid to use them to her advantage.
“Well, then…” Vesper said, hopping down from the bar. She intentionally braced her hand on Kirael’s shoulder as she moved to her own bar stool, biting her full lower lip as she went. “Let’s talk.”
Kirael waited until the bartender set down two more glasses before them, then glared at the human until he moved away to the end of the bar.
“Well?” Vesper prompted.
“Why do you want to get into Hell?” Kirael asked.
Vesper pursed her lips. “I need to rescue someone.”
Kirael took a sip
of his bourbon, thinking. “There’s no bringing back souls from Hell.”
“She’s human, and alive.”
He glanced over at Vesper, a little surprised.
“Is that so?”
Vesper nodded, and Kirael sensed that she was struggling to keep her own poker face on.
“Who is it?” he asked.
She hesitated. “My sister. She’s… troubled. After I bailed on your bounty, the Vampyres moved her to a blood brothel in Hell. I’ve been assured that she won’t live very long.”
Her words chilled Kirael’s blood. He’d been in one of those establishments, meeting a high-level Vampyre who was to orchestrate some important events to benefit Lucifer. Since Vampyres traded in addictions — flesh, drugs, whatever — they were frequent collaborators with Lucifer and the Fallen.
A single visit had been more than enough for Kirael. Beautiful, naked men and women splayed out on velvet chaises, Vampyres and demons feeding on their blood, coupling with the humans whether they were awake or not…
Just the memory of it made Kirael want to shudder. Still, he didn’t want to alarm Vesper.
He kept it simple. “That is… unfortunate.”
Vesper’s brow creased. She traced the rim of her glass with a fingertip, her throat working for a moment as she struggled to control herself.
“I’m gonna get her out, one way or another,” she said, staring hard at her drink. “I don’t especially want to out this person, the Null I mean. But… if it’s between her and my sister…”
Vesper lifted a shoulder, trying to seem uncaring, but Kirael could tell that the choice troubled her. If he were a better man, a different man, this would be the moment when he offered to help her without compromising her.
But Kirael was Fallen. He’d sinned so deeply, so irrevocably, that he’d never be that kind of selfless man again. All his efforts were directed toward repenting for his past.
No time for pity. No time for dallying with humans, no matter how lovely they might be…
“When we were in Hell before,” he said, thinking everything out. “Before you rushed in and ambushed me, I was there for a reason.”
“Okay,” Vesper said, giving him a blank look. She was utterly remorseful, which for some reason amused Kirael a little.
“My point is, I still have a task to accomplish there. If, and it’s a very distant possibility, but if I could get you into Hell, I would need to split off from you once we were there. It’d be my last shot to do what I need to do,” he said.
“And what’s that, exactly?” she asked, glancing at him.
“I need to retrieve something that Lucifer stole from Heaven.”
“So… you wouldn’t be able to help me in the brothel,” she said, her voice going flat. He could hear the little bit of hope she’d been building up start to fade. “I don’t think that’s worth what I’m offering you.”
He considered that for a moment.
“I’m willing to guarantee entry. I’m willing to help get your sister out. But we don’t leave without the object I need, and that part is going to be a lot harder than extracting a blood whore, I assure you.”
Vesper went white, making a strangled sound. Kirael’s gut twisted a little; perhaps his words were a little harsh.
To his surprise, though, Vesper didn’t lose her temper or lash out. Instead, she got very quiet, a look of steely determination settling on her heart-shaped face.
“Fine,” she said.
“Fine?” he asked.
“You have a deal. You get me in, you do your best to help me save my sister. After that, I’m on my own.”
“And you’ll give me the name of the Null. Before we walk into Hell, so that I can make arrangements in case… you know,” he said with a shrug.
She stared off into the distance for a long moment, then nodded. “Agreed.”
It wasn’t a deal Kirael would have accepted, but then again he wasn’t in her place. He’d never had any siblings, outside the sense of brotherhood he’d felt as a member of the Heavenly host.
Vesper turned to him, sticking out her hand. After a beat, Kirael shook it, intrigued by the slide of her warm palm against his own.
“It’s a deal,” he said, waiting just a second too long to release her.
He turned back to his drink, feeling strangely satisfied with the bargain.
If nothing else, Kirael had certainly just made his life more interesting…
Chapter Eleven
Vesper
Vesper felt like she was dreaming as she left the bar with Kirael.
Five years ago, before Mercy ever got involved in drugs, Vesper was a newly minted middle school librarian. Straight out of school at University of New Orleans, she never imagined anything like Vampyres or shifters existed.
Certainly, that fresh-faced, pastel-dress-wearing version of herself could never have imagined that she’d be following a Fallen angel out of some scuzzy dive bar. That version of herself couldn’t imagine missing a Thursday night Mass…
Much less celebrating the fact that she’d just convinced one of Lucifer’s favored disciples to take her straight to Hell.
Or checking out his ass in his tight, dark jeans as he walked ahead of her, his big body moving with a kind of swagger and confidence that only truly powerful men could pull off.
Kirael led her around the corner to a big black-and-chrome motorcycle. When he plucked a helmet off the back and handed it to her, she gave him a look.
“You’re kidding,” she said. “A motorcycle, really?”
“Yep. And since you’re a fragile human, you get the helmet.”
“I don’t… ride…” she said, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt.
“You want to rescue your sister or not?” he asked. “Because we can’t just waltz in Hell. We’re gonna need help, and that’s not gonna happen right in this spot.”
Vesper balked for another moment. Kirael rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone and sending a text.
There was something you didn’t see every day, former angels texting.
Then Kirael climbed onto his bike, swinging his leg over with practiced ease, and gave her a hard look. “Coming?”
Vesper blew out a breath and brought the helmet down onto her head. It smelled distinctly male, but not in a bad way. Of course, even Kirael’s sweat would be kind of attractive.
Then she clambered on the motorcycle behind him. The seat was sloped up at the back, which meant that Vesper immediately slid down, her whole body pressing flush against Kirael’s body.
Damn, every single inch of him is hard as steel, she thought with a sigh. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders.
He started the engine and gunned it a couple of times. Vesper couldn’t lie, the rumble of the engine between her thighs was strangely seductive. Maybe it was old librarian Vesper that didn’t like bikes…
Kirael reached up and pulled her hands down to his hips, then around to his stomach. He said something to her, probably some variation of hold on, though she couldn’t hear much through the helmet.
Then they were off. Vesper’s arms tightened around Kirael’s waist, her eyes squeezed shut.
Her mind bounced back and forth between fear and excitement. At first, the ride was very stop and go, since they were in French Quarter traffic. Soon, though, Kirael pulled onto Esplanade Avenue, and the ride got smoother.
Torn between being a little scared for her safety and all too curious about Kirael’s warm, muscular body, Vesper tried to relax and enjoy the experience. All too soon, Kirael pulled the bike up in front of a particularly grand Victorian mansion, three stories and the precise blue hue of a peacock feather.
Vesper climbed off the bike first, gladly pulling the helmet off her head. When Kirael dismounted, he stowed the helmet back in the pop-up seat of his bike, then strode toward the house.
She started to follow, so close on his heels that she almost stumbled into him when Kirael paused, then turned back to her.
<
br /> He reached out to steady her, smirking. Just that touch, simple as it was, made her heart beat a little faster.
I seriously need to get out more, she thought.
“There are a few things you should know first,” he said.
“Okay,” Vesper said, stepping back to shake off his touch.
He arched a brow, but didn’t comment. “There are two more Fallen that have defected recently. We work together, sort of… keeping the balance between Heaven and Hell.”
Vesper was startled. “Really? I thought it was literally impossible to defect, and that you were just an exception to the rule.”
“Only the strongest Fallen can leave,” he said with a shrug, as if being equal in power to Lucifer was just… no big deal. “You know who Le Medcin is?”
“Kind of. He’s like… the referee between Heaven and Hell, right?”
“He leans toward good rather than evil, but yes. You could say that the three of us work for him.”
Vesper couldn’t help but laugh, or hold back the words that came out of her mouth next. “Oh man. You guys are like… an angel squad?”
Kirael scowled. “That’s certainly not what I would call it.”
“Really? What do you call yourselves?”
“Nothing,” he said, giving her an odd look.
“That’s no fun,” she said with an eye roll.
“Moving on,” he said, shaking his head. “Each of us has been given a Task, something that Le Medcin wants us to do. More than just peacekeeping.”
“Ah,” Vesper said, something clicking together in her head. “Is yours related to this object you’re retrieving from Hell?”
Surprise flitted across Kirael’s face.
“It is,” he said. “But the others don’t know what my Task is, nor I theirs. It’s a very private thing.”
“What is the Task going to accomplish?” she asked.
“That’s not your concern,” he said, crossing his arms. “I just want you to understand, before we walk inside, that you cannot mention my Task to the others. Not to anyone, ever.”
“Ooookay….” Vesper said, pulling a face. “Gotcha.”
“The less you have to say to any of them, the better,” he said, turning toward the house again.
