by Harley James
Heart in his throat, Nate streamed in behind Mason’s red brick two story in a new subdivision to the north. He didn’t see Jessie’s car in Mason’s driveway so she must have projected her planned destination. She hadn’t come and gone because he didn’t sense her recent presence.
Trying to sense disturbances in the ether that might indicate this was where the Seam would open, Nate streamed around the neighborhood so fast he was invisible, though no one would have seen him anyway because a gobby Nephilim had frozen time in a three-block radius. How could it access that much power during daylight hours? And where the hell was it?
There were fall decorations in the windows, faux tombstones in the yards, and spider webs and pumpkins on door stoops. For maybe the first time ever, Nate’s gaze lingered on basketball hoops, the children motionless on bikes and scooters, and…
A young couple—happy smiles pinned on their faces—paused in the act of pushing a stroller and walking a dog.
He’d never be able to share that kind of life with Jessie. Even if he could, it would be unwise. Fatherhood and demon-hunting didn’t mix.
But did she want children?
The ferment in his mind was quickly replaced by concentration when a strong whiff of Nephilim came over the breeze. He streamed behind Mason’s house once more to observe. The neighborhood remained temporally frozen, yet a mailman halfway down the block approached a middle-aged woman stooping for her newspaper at the end of her driveway. Across the street, Nate identified the gray-cloaked, skeletal Nephilim who’d hijacked this neighborhood and purposely unfrozen these two.
Here we go.
It was Nate’s Guardian obligation to thwart this sort of conflict, but it was a first-rate inconvenience right now. He’d always been a selfish prick, and dammit, wasn’t it God’s fault that his vices didn’t go poof when he’d been wrenched violently back to life?
It would have been much easier to fight evil if he wasn’t touched with so much of it himself.
Do the right thing.
Nate gritted his teeth when the mailman got in the woman’s personal space and plucked at her robe. She patted her curler be-decked head, her cheeks and neck red with agitation. The mailman drew her into his arms and planted a ribald kiss on her lips as her front door opened. A balding, thick-waisted man’s bellow preceded his thunderous advance toward the pair.
Nate groaned. The Nephilim had unfrozen the husband to make this even hairier. Now Nate would have three minds to wipe, taking him that much longer to find Jessie.
The postal worker grabbed the woman’s ass, hoisted her legs around his hips while the incensed male from the house drew back a meaty arm. The postman pivoted at the right moment, and the husband’s punch landed on the side of his wife’s head.
Nate took three steps from behind Mason’s garage and raised his hand to awaken the tree roots nearest the Nephilim. The earth rumbled and shook, raining leaves from all the trees on the block as pale brown elm roots pushed up from the ground to cage the fallen angel who was causing such a rabble. The Nephilim’s bony fingers snaked through the roots of his prison, his mind control making the mailman shove the woman so forcefully at her husband that her body stopped him in his tracks, their heads knocking together with a terrible crack.
“Enough!” Nate pulled the tomahawk from its holster, holding eye contact with the Nephilim until it arched its neck back to release an ear-shattering shriek. Nate shook his head to diffuse the pain. The three humans crumpled at the noise, rolling as they moaned, holding their heads, blood running from their ears.
The Nephilim’s scream shredded its prison bars like they were paper instead of six-inch tree roots. As the fallen angel fled across three yards, Nate closed his eyes and opened his senses to the Earth. To the deep wealth of minerals, stones, sand, clays, and organic matter. To the heat of the gases and liquids, the micro- and macro-organisms that help support life. He reached into the skin of the Earth, asking for it to open. And it obeyed, swallowing the Nephilim whole.
Nate shielded his eyes as the sun reflected off a car’s chrome when it drove by, the neighborhood suddenly released from its temporal freeze. The fallen angel wasn’t dead yet, but buried by that many cubic tons of Earth, it wouldn’t be able to call for help or extract itself for at least an hour.
Not that any of his fellow demons would bother to help him.
Nate would come back later to finish the job with the sword Michael had given him. But first, he needed to replenish his Guardian powers. Moving that much earth required a good meal and maybe a nap. Taking the head off a demon who’d try to make you use your weapon against yourself required even more.
Gorging himself on Jessie’s body would re-energize him faster than anything.
Find her. Now.
But he couldn’t stop from glancing at the three dazed humans across the street. Jessie would never leave them like this. He cursed vilely as he walked to their driveway. He lifted the injured woman into his arms. He’d simply let them into their house and—
“Nate!”
Blast. Why had he gotten involved? It wasn’t like these humans wouldn’t have come out of their stupor on their own eventually. They might just have a few months of bad dreams.
Or a lifetime.
Nate turned around slowly, the robed woman still in his arms. Jessie ran across the neighboring lawns toward him, slack-jawed, her purse flapping against her side.
“What are you doing here?” Her gaze dropped to the battered woman, her eyes widening. “Oh my God.”
Think fast. Jessie’s grandparents emerged from her car in Mason’s driveway. “I came to see if your family wanted a private tour of Mirage before the grand opening. I found this woman lying on the ground and…” Shut the fuck up, Temple.
She looked around. “Where’s your car?”
Right. That was a human’s normal mode of transportation. Nice of her to point out that minor detail. She was going to make a brilliant attorney one day. He jerked his head to the right. “A couple blocks back. I had the wrong address, so I started walking. Nice day and all, you know. Stay out here and call the paramedics, okay? I need to get these huma—uh, folks inside.”
Jessie dug her phone out of her purse, helping the husband to his feet as she voice dialed 911. By the time they’d gotten the three inside, the Nephilim’s targets were babbling about a screeching skeleton. Splendid.
“A voice in my head was telling me to do bad things with him.” The woman pointed at the postal worker. “Then kill him, my husband, and myself.” Her husband rocked in his chair with a vacant look. Jessie knelt beside the woman and put a hand on her shoulder. When she raised troubled blue eyes to Nate’s, he knew he had to fix this.
“Post-traumatic stress is a bitch,” he said. “I’ll stay with them until help comes. Go see to your grandparents in case the perpetrator is still in the neighborhood.”
The beautiful rosy hue fled from Jessie’s cheeks, and she left immediately. He hated to scare her like that, but if he didn’t wipe these three minds, there’d be a hell of an uproar. The woman shivered as he laid his hands gently on the sides of her temples to access her memories.
Humans were vulnerable to demonic meddling when they voluntarily opened their spirits to evil or when they were beaten down by strife—be it physical, emotional, or spiritual. Nate staggered at the knife’s edge of pain slicing through this woman’s psyche. She’d been vulnerable to the Nephilim because she and her husband had recently lost their college-aged son to a drunk driver.
“Rest easy, human. You were assaulted in a random act of violence, but you’re okay now. It was a human, and he will never bother you again.”
Lies were so often humane.
It was for the best that he’d never be a father. He would have a bloody hard time laying down the law because he rarely saw things in black and white.
After he wiped the two men’s minds, he warded the couple’s house against subsequent attacks. A squad car arrived moments before the paramedics
. Normally, he would have left before law enforcement showed up, but Jessie would expect him to do what a normal, caring human would do.
As he gave his report to the officer, he kept an eye on Mason’s house. He knew Jessie would fail to find her uncle, and the feeling deep down grew even stronger—that this was the calm before a very ugly storm.
Chapter 16
Opening Night
Friday, Oct. 31, 5 pm
Jessie yanked at the freakishly realistic, life-sized zombie to make sure it was securely fastened on the DJ’s stage before jumping down to the dance floor. She glanced over her shoulder to where another bartender stood behind the bar. “Alright, José, kill the task lights!”
The bright white work lights immediately went down, replaced by hazy pinks, blues, purples, and oranges that bathed the club in a warm psychedelic dream. Jessie had always known light had the power to influence human emotion, but she hadn’t realized that it likewise influenced specific biochemical processes.
Two nights ago, Nate had thoroughly schooled her on how the fine art of color psychology intersected with desire, passion, and—let’s be honest here—lust. He’d drawn a steaming bath for her in his high-tech washroom, “liberated” her from her clothing, and deployed his fancy remote to call up a particular shade of orange-red as his irresistible mouth had tracked a slow descent—
“You sure those spider webs aren’t gonna chase away business? My sisters would shit their spandex if they saw that, Jess.” José de la Fuente wrapped a muscular arm around Jessie’s neck and kissed her temple before promptly releasing her.
Jessie looked up at the hundreds of black plastic spiders that José and fellow bartender, Drake, had not-without-complaint scattered on the faux webbing two, three, and four stories above the dance floor. “You worry too much, José. It’s absolutely perfect.”
And it was. From the gorgeous gleaming bottles behind the mirrored mixologist stations, to the smooth leather u-benches surrounding the wide dance floor, to the lights, music, and, now...the high-end Halloween decorations.
When Mason mentioned Satanic paraphernalia earlier in the week, Jessie had hypothesized that Nate had probably gone all-out on holiday frills. Well, he definitely had. There was all manner of scary decor in place, from the boiling black cauldrons to skeletons floating beside the front entrance to bloody ghouls hanging upside down in gruesome body bags.
Sonja had obviously been freaked out when she’d seen all of this in the storage room downstairs. Of course, it would be easy to imagine Ouija boards and Satanic bibles. They certainly seemed to be the right accompaniments for what was already in place.
Jessie nudged José. “Thanks for coming early to help me set up. Go grab something to eat before the rest of the staff starts showing up. I’ll meet you back here in an hour, okay?”
José’s warm brown eyes bored into hers. “Boss-man order you upstairs again? You don’t have to go, you know. Stay here with me and Drake.”
She chewed her lip for a moment. How much did he actually know about what was going on between her and their boss? All week, whenever they’d been at Mirage, Nate had been surprisingly subtle about their…whatever this was. He’d joked that he was afraid of Katherine’s response, but Jessie knew it had more to do with preventing this type of awkwardness with her coworkers.
Nate watched people when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. She’d caught him doing it to her often enough. It was unsettling, but not necessarily in a negative way.
José had been her mentor when she’d first started bartending four years ago and was one of the few who’d been re-hired when Unholy Inc took over Mason’s club. She smiled to reassure him. “Nate hasn’t ordered me to do anything. I just want to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything for tonight.”
The last part was a lie. After Jessie’s demand to see what was behind the locked door downstairs that had gotten Sonja canned, Nate had promised to take her there when everything was ready for opening night. That meant right now. And she was going to make sure he followed through on that promise. Hopefully her report on the storage room would get Mason off her back. His twice daily calls were getting old.
José sighed. “Okay, but the minute he does something you don’t like, say the word, and I’ll lay him out for you, cariño. I don’t need this gig, and neither do you.” He moved toward the kitchen. Moments later Jessie’s skin jumped in awareness.
She spun toward the second story one-way glass and knew Nate was watching her from his office. He’d probably translated her body language as she’d spoken with Jose. She was at his door in less than a minute. Katherine raised a graceful eyebrow, her condescending silence poignant as she exited and Jessie entered Nate’s office. Jessie paused half-way across the room from him. They stared at each other for what seemed like a millennium. She should be asking him to show her the basement immediately, but she hadn’t seen him in two hours, and she simply wanted to drink him in. She begrudged the time apart even more than usual because only twenty-four hours remained on their contract.
Her chest rose and fell on two big gulps of air. She knew her eyes exposed the ragged edge of her emotion, but she couldn’t look away.
They spoke simultaneously.
“Something disquiets you,” he murmured.
“I shouldn’t stay with you tonight,” she gushed.
Nate’s eyebrows drew down as he strode to her and grasped her upper arms. “Rubbish! Of course, you’re staying with me.”
She gazed at the lovely gray herringboned floor tiles, her eyes tracing the zigzag pattern in an effort to find calm. Nate’s hands tightened on her arms. “What did he say?”
“What?”
“The bartender. What did he say?”
Nate’s tone made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “This has nothing to do with—”
“Of course it does. He clearly loves you.” When she remained mute, he lurched for the door. She raced ahead of him, plastering herself against the door.
“Remove yourself at once, Jessie.”
His eyes were so dark. “Please, don’t do this. I’m confused right now. I never expected—” To get so attached to you. “I’ll make love to you and then pack my bags and leave. Go back to my own place.” So she could cry herself to sleep.
He placed his hands against the door beside her head and leaned in. “Have the hours we’ve spent together been so distasteful?”
His lips on the skin below her ear sent a shudder steamrolling through her body. “God, no.”
When he took a step back, his retreat was like a cold wind over barren prairie. What the hell was this with him? It was going to hurt so bad when she couldn’t be with him anymore.
“The worst we can do is let others cloud our judgment. You are a smart woman, Jessie. Neither I, nor anyone else, could possibly take advantage of you without your consent. Maybe you’re taking advantage of me? Have you considered that?”
What. Ever. But she needed to start putting up walls so it wasn’t so traumatic when she left. “I’m only sleeping with you because I need the money!”
He frowned. “Lying doesn’t become you, Jess.” He’d moved into her personal space again, and she couldn’t breathe. “The money was simply a convenient excuse. For both of us.”
Her brain yelled at her to run. “What do you know about being strapped? You’ve probably never lacked for anything a day in your life.”
He straightened, but didn’t step back. “Oh really? You presume to know so much about me?”
“No! I know jack-shit about your past because as many times as I’ve asked, you always brush me off! Why is that, Nate?”
He stilled. When he spoke, his whisper was as soft as a lion stalking through savannah grasses. “My childhood was bleak and desperate. Not many people relish those stories.”
She forced herself not to look away from the blue flame of his gaze. “I care. Is that what your tattoos are about?” When he shook his head, she framed his face with her hands. “
Then, what? What happened to you as a child?”
He pulled away from her and walked to the mini bar. “Brandy?”
“Nate.” He wouldn’t look at her.
On her way toward him he spoke. “My life wasn’t commendable, Jessie.”
“Speaking in past tense? Now who’s talking rubbish? Someone took advantage of your innocence and vulnerability—” Her throat closed on a surge of protective anger.
“No. Come.” He set the orange-gold liquor on the mirrored cart, reached for her hand, and walked rapidly to the door. They didn’t speak as they made their way downstairs, behind the bar, and then down another set of stairs that led to the storage room she’d been anxious to inspect all week.
Outside a reinforced door, he reached into his slacks’ pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned key. He held it up between them. “I’d rather you regret the things you’ve done than the things you haven’t done. Still, it’s your choice from here.”
She’d never regret her time with him. How could she? Whatever happened after tonight, this week with Nate had made her feel more alive—more respected for her thoughts and feelings as an independent woman—than she ever had.
The heavy, metal key was still warm from his body heat when she grasped it. Before she unlocked the door, she pulled him down for a kiss he returned with aching sweetness. She twisted out of his grasp with a groan, frustrated by her sense of obligation to finish this task for her uncle, and fighting her rising panic over the dwindling hours as the singular object of Nate’s desire.
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m okay.” Don’t you dare cry. She pushed the key into the lock and turned it, feeling him close at her back, whispering words in a foreign language as he so often did. His husky timbre sent a pulse of white-hot desire through her. Fingers tightening on the key, she fought the urge to turn into his arms once more. “No more speaking in tongues until you tell me what you’re saying and where you learned to speak Latin.”
“Ad meliora luctor et emergo. Lux in tenebris lucet ex bono ad malum… ‘Toward better things I struggle and emerge. Good out of evil until light shines in the darkness.’”
