by Vivian Wood
“I—” she started, then stopped. She pulled away from him, shaking off his touch. “Okay.”
“I have a guest bedroom,” he said.
Her gaze narrowed for a second, then she shrugged. “Fine.”
“I have some things to do, so I’ll just show you where it is,” he said, clearing his throat.
His second experience with awkwardness bloomed, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.
He stood, turning the TV off, and walked her to the guest room. After a brief explanation of where she could find towels for the guest bathroom, he left to dig up a shirt for her to sleep in.
When he brought it to her, she gave him a glassy look.
“Thanks,” she said, then shut the bedroom door in his face.
I suppose I deserved that, he thought.
Heading back to the living room, he picked up both the empty whisky glasses and carried them to the kitchen. He rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, his mind turning over and over the same thoughts.
What is this pull I feel toward Vesper?
And, does she feel the connection, or just physical desire?
And, why in the name of Lucifer am I this concerned about what anyone thinks?
Then, she’s just a human woman.
And, so why can’t I stop thinking about her?
Growing tired of the cycle, Kirael went to his bedroom and changed into gym shorts, then headed to his miniature gym. It just had a treadmill, free weights, a heavy bag, and some other small equipment, but it was his escape.
He went at the punching bag for a good fifteen minutes, working out a little of his pent-up aggression. Then some weights, to stick with his usual routine.
Finally, he jumped rope for twenty minutes and hit the treadmill for thirty, running until he was about to fall down.
When Kirael finally showered and sought his bed, he felt a strange combination of exhaustion and restlessness. He closed his eyes, desperate now for sleep, but still he felt…
Unsettled. Unfinished.
Unsatisfied.
Rolling over and covering his face with a pillow, he groaned.
If he’d thought his fascination with Vesper dangerous before, now it was doubly so. He absolutely could not afford this distraction, not when he had too far to travel on his road to redemption.
Not only that, but getting involved with Vesper would be wrong. She might be every bit as amazing as her hero Buffy, but she had no real idea just how bad Kirael’s past was…
If she’d flinched at his admission of being an assassin, she’d certainly turn tail and run if she heard a fraction of the things he truly regretted doing. Kirael was as bad as one of Buffy’s villains, and his attempts at penitence didn’t change that one bit.
Tossing the covers back, he crept back into the hallway. Feeling ridiculous, he put his ear to her door, listening.
Nothing.
Opening the door the barest inch, he listened again. All he could hear was her light, even breathing. Pushing it open further, he poked his head in.
Vesper was curled up on her side, covers drawn all the way up to her chin. He stood there, watching her, for longer than he’d like to admit.
It soothed him somehow, hearing the gentle sound of her breathing, seeing the subtle rise and fall of her body as she slept.
After a while, the cycle of anxious thoughts slowed, then stopped.
Then, and only then, did he silently close the door and return to his own room. The second he slid between the sheets, his head hitting the pillow, he was asleep.
He let the darkness pull him down, Vesper’s face already floating through his dreams.
Chapter Fifteen
Vesper
“Morning.”
Vesper looked up to find Kirael in the living room doorway, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. He was barefoot, wearing sweats and a t-shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling at his nape.
“Hey,” Vesper said, clearing her throat and dropping her gaze.
No need to stare, she chided herself. After all, he’s made his position perfectly clear.
“Doing a little light reading?” he asked, lifting his chin to indicate the heavy book she held.
“Ah, yeah. You know what they say,” she said. “Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina always lifts the spirits, right?”
Kirael snorted. “Sure, if you’re cheered by remorseless and unrepentant selfishness, and don’t mind that there’s not an ounce of redemption to be had. Not a world I want to live in.”
Vesper set the book aside, glad that things between them weren’t awkward. After the way they’d left things the night before, there was every possibility that this morning’s conversation could have been uncomfortable, to say the least.
“I would’ve thought an angel got up a little earlier,” she said, checking the time on her cell phone. “It’s nearly night again.”
“Actually, I got up at nine this morning and went out to work. I’m just getting in from patrol.”
“Patrol?” Vesper asked, curious.
“Just keep the peace in the city, make sure Kith are staying low key, make sure demons aren’t taking over, and so forth. It’s part of my agreement with Mere Marie.”
“Ohhhhh, I get it. The Sainted Sinners are the new Alpha Guardians, huh?”
“I loathe that name,” Kirael said, draining the remainder of his mug.
“Again, your taste is questionable. Is there more coffee?” she asked.
“There is, but you’ll need to take it to go,” Kirael said.
“You don’t even have real clothes on,” Vesper pointed out.
“Yeah, but I will soon. Make your coffee, get your boots on, and we can go.”
“Go where?” she asked, but Kirael had already vanished into his bedroom.
When he returned, motorcycle helmet in hand, Vesper gave him an uncertain look.
“We could just take a cab,” she suggested.
Kirael hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “Not for this.”
“And what, pray, might that be?”
“We’re going to see Stella,” Kirael said, thrusting the helmet into Vesper’s hands. “Come on, we need to get moving. No one misses an appointment with Stella.”
“Are you gonna tell me who the Hell Stella is?” Vesper complained as she followed Kirael downstairs.
“Well… it’s a long story. Not really mine to tell. But let’s just say Stella is Lucifer’s only surviving daughter.”
Vesper gaped at him. “His what??”
Kirael gave her a pointed look, leading her to where his bike was parked.
“I just… I didn’t think angels could procreate,” Vesper said, astounded.
“It’s not the easiest thing,” Kirael said with a shrug. “And I’m not an angel.”
“Kirael…” she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to a stop. “You are what you are. A single decision, one moment in time, is all that sent you chasing after Lucifer during the Fall. I don’t think an angel ever stops being an angel.”
Surprise flickered across his face, then his expression went stormy.
“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” he growled. “Now put the damn helmet on.”
Blowing out a breath, Vesper did as she was told. Kirael climbed onto his bike, then beckoned for her to follow. She flung her leg over and slid her body down against his.
She slipped her arms around his waist, trying not to tense up as Kirael started the bike and took off.
The ride gave her a few quiet minutes to gather her thoughts.
While Kirael was out patrolling all day, Vesper had taken the liberty of calling up Vargus and asking for some details on Kirael. Vargus didn’t find a whole lot in the couple of hours allotted, but two facts he dug up stuck out to Vesper.
One, Kirael was one of the very first creations. Meaning, before the Fall he served Heaven for untold millennia. Two, Kirael essentially did the same job in Heaven as he did in Hell
— angel of vengeance, divine punisher of the unrepentant… assassin.
It made her insanely curious why he chose to Fall at all… To Vesper’s thinking, it was essentially just a transfer from one place to another, with the added bonus of everlasting hellfire and guilt.
She couldn’t help but wonder about the root of Kirael’s insistence that he was no longer an angel.
Was it because he chose to Fall? Because he wanted to leave Heaven?
Kirael might be many things, but he was also moral. His own version of morality, anyway.
And yeah, maybe he was once a wet worker. Maybe he had a lot of deaths on his conscience. But Vesper was willing to bet her right hand that he’d never done so needlessly, or for personal reasons.
Her inference, from knowing him only this short while, was thus: Kirael was loyal to his cause, as long as the cause was worthy.
Losing faith in light of Lucifer’s wrongdoing seemed like a no-brainer. But walking away from Heaven?
What could Kirael’s reasoning for that possibly be? she thought.
Kirael pulled the bike to a stop in front of the Columns Hotel on St. Charles. The grand white antebellum mansion held a high-end cocktail lounge and restaurant downstairs; Vesper had driven by the place, but never actually gone in herself.
She got off the bike and handed over the helmet, staring up at the hotel.
“This is where Stella hangs out?” she asked, skeptical.
“She doesn’t spend much time up here. Lucifer keeps a very close eye on Stella, with good reason. But yes, she does favor the Victorian Lounge.”
“Hmm,” Vesper said, reaching out to pluck at a piece of lint on Kirael’s white Henley shirt.
He caught her hand with his, trapping it against his chest. For the briefest moment, their gazes caught. Vesper’s heartbeat thrummed, a wild feeling surging inside her.
Then, slowly and deliberately, she pulled her fingers from his grasp and turned away. She heard Kirael clear his throat, but she didn’t look back, didn’t try to catch whatever expression was on his face, no matter how much she wanted to.
Vesper propelled herself up to the Hotel, taking the steps two at a time until she walked into the Hotel’s foyer.
“I’m meeting someone in the Victorian Lounge,” she told the concierge.
“Name?” he asked, barely looking up from the huge guest book spread on the podium before him.
“Lesange,” Kirael said, right on Vesper’s heels. He stopped right behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his big body.
She shivered, but already the concierge was beckoning, leading them into the Lounge. Vesper slowed as they stepped inside the dark-paneled room.
“Wow, I am so underdressed,” she said with a whistle.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kirael said, putting a hand on her lower back and urging her forward. “Keep moving, we’re very close to being late.”
The concierge showed them to a circular brown leather booth, where Lucan awaited. And next to him…
Could only be Stella.
Her hourglass curves were encased in a tight black sheath dress, showing plenty of cleavage and thigh. Her hair fell in rivers of white-gold waves, thick and long and shiny. Her lips were lacquered red as blood, and the perfection her enormous blue eyes and high cheekbones would’ve made Barbie jealous.
She and Lucan sat on one side of the booth, Lucan looking positively murderous while Stella smirked.
“We are not talking about this,” Lucan growled, making Stella’s eyes sparkle.
The relief on Lucan’s face when he saw Kirael and Vesper approaching was almost comical.
“There you are,” Lucan said, giving Kirael a questioning look.
“I was almost hoping you’d be late,” Stella sighed. “Then it wouldn’t be a double date.”
Her voice made Vesper shiver; the blonde’s voice was like the pealing of a high, clear bell. Kirael slid into the booth beside Stella, Vesper after him.
“This is not a date,” Lucan said flatly, looking annoyed.
“Do you want my help, or not?” Stella said, crossing her arms.
Silence for a few minutes, and then Lucan shrugged. “Yes.”
Vesper stared at Stella, trying to determine whether her beauty was real or the result of lots of cosmetics and surgery. When Stella turned the full force of her attention onto Vesper, Vesper nearly shrank back.
“Hmmm. You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” Stella mused. “Ever thought of working for the Legion? My father is a very good employer, you’d have everything you ever wanted.”
Vesper’s mouth went dry, but she sat up a little straighter. “No.”
“Pity,” Stella said. “If you ever change your mind… well, I’ll be listening.”
“Is that a threat?” Vesper asked with a frown.
Kirael put his hand on her knee under the table, squeezing gently.
Stella canted her head, her gaze narrowing. “I don’t make threats. I don’t need to.”
“Stella,” Kirael cut in. “What is it that you need from us? We want to make our play as soon as possible.”
Stella gave Vesper another moment’s examination, then turned to Kirael.
“I just wanted to know why you’d take such a risk. I thought it might be the girl, but then I second-guessed myself. Could the high and mighty Kirael actually have some affection for a human?” she asked, a haughty smirk on her lips.
Kirael was silent a beat, staring at Stella. Vesper suddenly realized that Kirael couldn’t tell Stella about the Null; Stella would certainly want Aurora for herself.
“Interesting,” Stella said. “So this is what the Fallen get up to on Earth. Fraternizing with humans…. Lucan, darling, you’d better not get any ideas from your friend here.”
She reached up to brush a lock of Lucan’s ash blond hair back from his face. He flinched, pulling away from her, and for a moment Vesper saw a flash of anger and pain in Stella’s expression.
"There's only one thing left, then," Stella said. "Lucan just has to agree to his end of this little bargain."
Everyone looked at Lucan, who looked a little ill.
"Fine, yes," he said. "I accept."
“Excellent,” Stella purred. “I think we’re done here.”
She started to shoo Lucan out of her way.
“Wait…” Vesper started, but Kirael squeezed her knee hard.
“Yes?” Stella asked, arching a slender brow.
“Um… thank you. That’s all,” Vesper said, fidgeting.
Stella stared at her for a few seconds, then nodded and turned to Lucan. “I need seventy-two hours to put things in place. Madam White’s, midnight. Don’t be late. Now move.”
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 coul
d 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."
