A Real Angel

by Cassie Miles

  "And one of them killed Eddy Benson."

  "Hugh Montclair and Nick Vincenzo. Alex Hill and his brother. Dinah. Taylor." She sighed. "After all our investigating, we still don't know which one."

  He reached up toward her, gliding his hand around her neck beneath her hair. "I never thought I'd say this, Jenna, but I don't want to think about murder and vengeance anymore."

  "Nor do I."

  "You're turning me into a dove of peace. Right now, I wish only to lie with you and count the evening stars as they light the skies above us."

  "You haven't been in L.A. for long," she said. "With the smog and the lights of the city, there aren't many stars visible."

  "We could soar above the clouds." He pulled her down to him, guiding her into a kiss. "I want to stay with you."

  His words penetrated her consciousness and branded her soul. If only he could be with her forever, she'd be the happiest of women. But that was an impossible dream.

  Tightening his grasp, he pulled her on top of him. She felt his hardness, his strength, his passion when he kissed her again. Gently, he said, "We should go."

  "We should." She wanted to know the results of Hugh's tests on the blood samples. "But I don't want to share you with anyone else. I want you to be mine alone."

  "Hold that thought. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you must think of me and the next time we'll make love."

  Would there be a next time?

  He rose from the bed, naked. His body was magnificent. He was a mature man, heavily muscled with a virile pelt of chest hair that arrowed down his torso. When he turned away from her, she noticed that the scars where there had been angel wings had disappeared.

  The first person Jenna saw when they entered Soundstage 7 was her mother. Kate's worried expression softened as she beheld her daughter with Rafe.

  "You look like you've been having fun," she said.

  Was it that obvious? "It's amazing what a good dinner will do for you," Jenna said.

  Her mother nodded wisely. "Appetites need to be appeased. I hope you didn't eat anything that disagrees with you."

  "It was all delicious. Right, Rafe?"

  "The best I've ever tasted," he said.

  Their coded conversation veered too close to the truth for Jenna, and she definitely did not wish to discuss Rafe's incredible lovemaking with her mother. Quickly, she changed the subject. "What's going on here?"

  "Nothing much." Kate shrugged. "An alien invasion."

  The set was populated with stuntmen in shiny latex that made them look as if their skin had been turned inside out. Veins and arteries scribbled up and down their limbs. Their torsos featured dramatically outlined musculature. The design was fairly simple, very human-like, except for the webbed feet, fins and gills.

  Jenna looked at Rafe. "Is that what you're going to be wearing?"

  "That's the costume."

  Kate informed him, "Alex is looking for you. Something about jumping from a platform and doing a somersault in the air."

  "I remember," he said.

  Rafe wasn't sure that he could successfully perform the stunt he'd practiced earlier when he still had his angelic powers. Even if there had been time to attempt the switch back to that form, he'd already decided that he needed to be human for filming so his aura wouldn't be detected.

  "I'd better check in with the new stunt coordinator," he said.

  As if it were the most natural thing on earth, Jenna offered her upturned face and he casually kissed her before taking his leave. It was only a peck on the lips, but such a simple display of affection was foreign to Rafe, the loner, the avenging angel, the fierce being whose existence was devoted to vengeance.

  Striding across the soundstage, he realized that he was part of her. Likewise, she was part of him. They had joined, not only physically, but also on a spiritual level.

  He feared that precious bond would shatter when he became an angel again. But the alternative was unthinkable.

  Alex accosted him. "You! I need you in makeup. Right away."

  "First I want to try a run-through on the stunt," Rafe said. "We haven't had a chance to practice on the set."

  "Fine, fine," Alex said. "I shan't rush safety precautions. Take all the time you need."

  Rafe studied the black-clad director, who fidgeted while he nervously tweaked the patchy goatee on his chin. "I understand that Hugh is coming to the set."

  "Yes." Alex scowled. "I was told, before accepting this project, that Hugh Montclair was a recluse who would not pester me. But he's been here constantly."

  "What do you think changed his mood?" Rafe asked, leading toward discussion of the virus. "Maybe he's made progress on his AIDS cure. Are you familiar with his experiments?"

  "I've heard far too much about Hugh and his chemistry set. Taylor Wannamaker has been haunting me, making inane threats about sick pigs."

  "Pigs," Rafe said. Taylor might have finally figured out that Hugh was using his pigs for scientific testing. Though such a procedure clearly went against SPCA regulations, Taylor wouldn't be happy about confronting the powerful, influential Hugh Montclair. Innocently, Rafe asked, "What do pigs have to do with Hugh's research?"

  "I'm an artist," Alex declared. "I pay no attention to commentary about livestock."

  He charged back toward the lit set, leaving Rafe to wonder if the director was cleverly hiding his knowledge of the virus, or if he was truly ignorant of the lethal results of Hugh Montclair's AIDS research.

  Before he could join the stuntmen, Jenna came up beside him. "You've got to come with me."

  "With pleasure. I'm not looking forward to plummeting off a twenty-foot-high platform, doing a double flip and landing on my feet."

  She gaped. "Why would you do that?"

  "It's a stunt," he said. "When I did it before, I was pretty spectacular. Of course, I was also an angel with a different sense of balance and a certain buoyancy."

  "Right," she said. "You could fly."

  "Which is a useful attribute for a stuntman."

  "Be careful, Rafe. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

  "Don't worry," he said. "After I was beaten by that security guard, I decided that pain is nothing to laugh at."

  "So to speak." She grinned.

  "What did you need?"

  "According to my mother, no one has heard about Frank's death. Since Frank gave us a message for Sean Hill, it seems like we ought to tell Dinah personally so she can pass the word. And then, maybe, we could go with her to tell Sean."

  "I like the way you think," he said. "It would be useful to meet this guy. If anybody had a real motive for wanting Eddy Benson dead, it's Sean Hill."

  "But everybody says he's not bitter."

  Rafe nodded. "Makes you wonder why not."

  Together they strolled through casual groups of costumed aliens toward Dinah's dressing room. Again, Rafe was struck with the unusual, yet wholly comfortable, sense of being half of a couple. It felt right to have Jenna beside him, matching her shorter stride to his.

  When he tapped on Dinah's door, she flung it open in a moment. Clutching a cell phone in one hand and a makeup brush in the other, the beauty queen was showing signs of irritation, slight cracks in her veneer.

  "What?" she demanded. "What is it?"

  "May we talk with you?" Rafe formally requested.

  "As if I have time for a chat?"

  "It's about Frank Vincenzo," he said.

  Grumbling, she bid farewell to the person on the phone, flipped it closed and came out of her dressing room. Beneath her terry cloth robe, she was still wearing her nearly naked costume. Her long chestnut wig tangled around her shoulders. "All right, then. Talk."

  Jenna stepped forward. "It might be best if you hear this in private."

  "Listen, Jenna, I don't have time for a deep and meaningful chat, okay? Just spit it out."

  "This afternoon," Jenna started, "we had to go out to the Montclair estate. Frank met us at the gate, and it was pretty obvious that
he was quite ill. It might have been the same disease that killed Eddy."

  "Wait a minute," she said. "I thought Eddy was murdered. Isn't that right? He drank some kind of poison or something."

  "Not exactly," Jenna said.

  "What does this have to do with me?"

  Rafe suspected that every topic introduced to Dinah Aaron eventually got around to this focal point: herself. "Frank gave us a message for you," he said. "To pass on to your boyfriend."

  "Which one?" Her laughter trilled. "At any given moment, I try to keep at least three on the line."

  "A good strategy for you." With three boyfriends, none of them would become bored too quickly. "I'm talking about Sean Hill."

  "He's a sweetie. Much better-looking than his brother, and he's amazingly well connected. So? What's the message?"

  "Frank won't be able to meet with Sean," Rafe said.

  "Why not?"

  Obviously, she had no idea of Frank's fate. And her utter lack of concern about Frank being infected with the same virus that killed Eddy led him to believe that Dinah was innocent of the murder. Her only crime was unadulterated selfishness.

  "Frank Vincenzo is dead," Rafe said.

  An expression of shocked surprise flitted across her lovely face. Her composure, though not lost, was shaken. "Dead?"

  Another person had joined them. Silent as nightfall, he had crept to the edge of their group. In his deep, authoritative voice, Hugh Montclair said, "What are you talking about?"

  Jenna whirled around to face him directly. "Frank's death. I was sorry to hear that the antidote didn't work."

  "You're mistaken. Frank is tired, but he's recovering. Who told you he was dead?"

  "One of the stuntmen," Rafe interjected quickly. If they mentioned Danny, they'd be admitting that they were the trespassers on the estate. "It's not true?"

  "Absolutely not." He stepped past them to place a protective arm around Dinah's shoulder. "Why would you upset her with these lies?"

  Dinah did more than merely accept his comforting gesture. She reveled in the attention. Sniffling girlishly, she smuggled against his chest. "I'm so distraught."

  "Well, of course you are." He frowned at Jenna. "You should be more careful of what you say."

  His words sounded dangerously like a threat to Rafe, and he noticed a sharp edge to Hugh's naturally forceful manner. There was a twitch at the corner of his eye. He looked much older today than he had yesterday.

  Rafe couldn't decide if Hugh's tension came from guilt or something else. A cover-up? Frank was dead. His brother had no reason to lie.

  Jenna planted her feet firmly. "Did you finish with the blood samples, Hugh?"

  "Your animals have a clean bill of health." Again, he warned, "Stop being so alarmist, Jenna. You're seeing danger where there is none."

  "The blood samples weren't my idea," she said in her own defense. Gesturing toward the long-beaked blond man who loped toward them, she said, "It was his plan."

  Taylor Wannamaker joined them with his hand outstretched. His officious manner was in full force when he introduced himself as the legal representative of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Vigorously, he shook Hugh's hand. "I've spoken to you on the phone. Delighted to meet you in person."

  "Why?" Hugh barked.

  "Because of your fine reputation." Shamelessly, Taylor flattered him. "In my legal work, I find it most useful to be involved with the influential, the renowned and the…"

  "The wealthy?" Jenna suggested.

  "Strangely enough," Taylor said, "I find that wealth seems to go hand in hand with influence and power."

  "Nice to meet you." Hugh turned away from Taylor.

  But the SPCA attorney would not be ignored. He continued, "It's because of your reputation, Dr. Montclair, that I can't believe these allegations."

  Hugh Montclair's back bowed under the weight of more problems. "What allegations?"

  "I'm sorry to be the bearer of unpleasant news, but we've had a complaint at the Society."

  "Explain," Hugh said coldly.

  "Apparently, you've given away several pigs or piglets. Is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "How many?"

  "Five or six," Hugh said.

  "One of those pigs got sick, and the new owner tried to return it to your estate. While she was there, she spoke with a farmhand who suggested that you'd been using the animals for experimental purposes. Of course, that's illegal."

  "Take this matter up with my attorney."

  "Oh, that's not really necessary. Legal battles are so time-consuming, requiring investigation and a lot of inconvenience. A person of your stature shouldn't have to be bothered," Taylor said. "I'm sure that if you and I sat down together, perhaps over lunch, and discussed this situation, we could come up with a solution."

  Rafe's natural dislike for the SPCA attorney blossomed into full disgust. Taylor was a complete moron, who didn't have the good sense to realize that he was over his head in trying to make a deal with Hugh Montclair.

  "Call my assistant, Nick Vincenzo, for an appointment," Hugh said. "Please excuse me."

  He went with Dinah into her dressing room and closed the door behind them.

  Taylor rocked back on his heels, beaming like the fool he was. "I think that went well."

  "Oh, sure," Jenna said. "He didn't reach down your throat and rip out your tonsils. That's a plus."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She pointed out the obvious. "If Hugh Montclair is maltreating his animals, you can't just let him off the hook because you want to cozy up to his wealth and power."

  "It's just a misunderstanding, I'm sure. The woman who brought the complaint was overreacting because her four-year-old daughter got attached to a sick pig."

  "Were tests run on the pig?" Rafe asked.

  "Well, no. She'd already returned the animal to the Montclair estate."

  If the pigs were infected, the result could be catastrophic. A shock went through Rafe. Why hadn't he foreseen this danger? Nick had told him, the first time they visited, that several piglets had been given away, dispersed. If the virus was passed through the pigs, an outbreak could already be in genesis.

  Rafe imagined the cute Vietnamese potbellied pigs, playing with children, infecting entire families. How quickly would the disease spread?

  Rafe needed to transform back to angelic form. Gathering up the pigs would be a quick process if he could fly from place to place. In a few hours, he'd have the animals. The virus would be contained.

  He took Jenna's arm. "We should be going."

  Nodding good-bye to Taylor, she went along with him. "Do you think the Montclair pigs were infected?"

  "We need to find those animals, round them up before someone else gets sick."

  "How?"

  "Danny gave me a phone number to contact him privately, without going through the main system for the estate. I'll talk with him, find out who received those pigs."

  "Also, ask him about Frank," she added. "Why would Hugh lie about his death?"

  "Hugh doesn't want an autopsy or an investigation into the cause of death. That would cause his virus to become known."

  "But he can't just pretend it didn't happen."

  Covering up Frank's demise would be easy. Frank had been unmarried and without children. Since he lived at the estate, there would be no problem with a nosy landlady. Nor was there an employer to miss his presence at work. Frank's disappearance could easily be explained to friends and acquaintances who contacted the estate. He would simply vanish.

  Only his brothers, Nick and Danny, would be obstacles to such a plan. And Rafe had begun to wonder about Nick's involvement.

  "I hate this," Jenna said under her breath. "Because he's rich, Hugh is a law unto himself."

  "There is a higher authority," he reminded her. "That's why I'm here."

  They had reached a distant corner of the soundstage, near where the detectives had set up their impromptu offices. Rafe twiste
d the door handle, discovered the office open, and escorted Jenna inside. He closed the door and turned on a gooseneck desk lamp.

  In the dim light, he couldn't see Jenna clearly, but every detail of her face was familiar to him. The shadows caused a melancholy cast to her features. He held both her hands in his own. "It's time, Jenna. I need to pick up the pigs before anyone else is infected with the virus. I have to change back into an angel."

  "Not yet." Sadness tinged her voice. "Stay with me for one more day."

  "I'm not going anywhere. This is only a transformation." But he understood her fear. When he became an angel again, they could not make love. Their human passion would be only a memory. "I can shift back at anytime."

  "Do you want to become an angel again?"

  "It's who I am. My earthly experience as a human was centuries ago. Since then, I've been an avenger. That's my identity."

  "But if you could change and become human forever, would you?"

  To be mortal meant suffering, a lifelong struggle ending with death. But it also meant experiencing transcendent passion in her arms. "If I could choose," Rafe said, "I'd have it both ways."

  "Whatever you are, whoever you are, my feelings for you won't change." She stepped away from him. "I'll wait outside, Rafe, to make sure you're not disturbed."

  Sitting yoga-style on the thinly carpeted floor, Rafe was aware of his mortal aches and pains. The headache wasn't completely gone. A bruise on his arm twinged.

  Sinking into meditation, he blanked these physical sensations from his conscious thought. His deep breathing assumed a regulated pattern. His mind became still. All of his energy focused on the core of his being, the angelic spark.

  But there was no connection.

  His impatience caused him to lose concentration, and he started again. Concentrating, he drew on the spiral vortex of primal force. He was nothing and everything at once.

  He waited, praying.

  The sudden explosion of transformation would not come. He searched for the tunnel of light and found only darkness, a thick void.

  He could not change. His powers had forsaken him.

  Rafe was trapped in a mortal body.