Hellsbane 02 - Heaven and Hellsbane

by Paige Cuccaro

  “Demons cannot love. They cannot think beyond themselves, beyond their own fear and resentment,” Jaz said, picking up the abandoned argument and giving his back to the line of waiting customers. “The few lucky enough to survive the banishment of their Fallen masters spend their days in a panic to avoid being banished themselves, while nurturing a limitless abhorrence for humans, whom they believe are afforded unconditional forgiveness for every imaginable sin. Demons do nothing that does not first and foremost aid themselves.”

  “Well, Amon’s not like that,” I said, settling into the upholstered wingback chair. He’d saved Eli and he’d been working tirelessly with Liam to discover who was behind the attacks. I’d grown to trust him after that night, and it bothered me that Jaz wouldn’t take my word for it. I grabbed the clipboard someone had left on the low end table between the two matching chairs. I had a full slate for the next three hours, plus the people waiting in hopes of slipping in between appointments or snagging any no-show spots.

  Jaz couldn’t understand. He was new to being a magister. Like, shiny new: I was his first illorum. Nine days ago he’d been a straight-up seraph, untainted by human interaction. Now he was up to his neck in us, and I got the sense he felt like he was drowning most of the time.

  He had the same long, silky-fine hair as all seraph when I met him. Like deep, endless space, his hair had been absolute black, though he’d shaved it off, since it looked just as strange short as it had long. He was bald now, but passed easily as human in his poorly fitted suit and oversize duster. In fact, for a six-foot-eight man he was surprisingly overlooked. It was an angel thing.

  “We do not require a demon’s assistance.” He looked away, practically pouting.

  “Well, unless you’re willing to show me what Eli showed you, we do,” I said and watched his nose crinkle in disgust at the thought of touching his mind to mine. Jerk. “Amon’s the only one who’s even gotten a glimpse of the demon and he’s got the connections we need to find him.”

  Jaz sighed. “So we will use the demon to gain information. Very well.”

  “Right. However you need to spin it,” I said. Baby steps into the messy world of demon hunting. Baby steps.

  “Excuse me.” The woman first in line checked her watch, then propped her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But I was supposed to have an appointment at one and it’s one forty-five.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry…” I glanced at the list. “Sorry, Ann.” Then looked at Jaz. “Leave.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got work.”

  He looked from me to the people in line and back again. “You have a mission assigned to you by the Council. It takes precedence over the menial tasks of human life.”

  “Actually, eating tops Council missions. It’s one of those pesky menial tasks I kind of can’t live without.” I shooed him, waving with both hands. “Gotta pay for my Doritos somehow. So go. Find the head of a pin to stand on or something.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched Jaz sulk back toward the double doors of the social hall as Ann took the chair across from mine. The huge man had nearly made it to the door before he vanished. No one else noticed.

  “So what do I have to do?” Ann asked, pulling my full attention.

  “Take my hands,” I said, angling my knees toward hers, hands out across the small end table between us. I closed my eyes, concentrating.

  I’d grown a lot as an Intuitive Consciousness Explorer over the past year. Mostly because I’d come into my illorum powers, and now instead of just experiencing other people’s emotions, I could actually read their thoughts.

  I was better at it than most illorum for some reason, which only meant I had to be more careful. Angels were forbidden to delve any deeper into a person’s brain than the thoughts that floated at the surface of the mind, the thoughts they didn’t instinctively protect. I was no angel, but my ability was part of my angelic half, so Eli had warned me the Council would figure the same rules applied. I wasn’t sure I agreed with their logic.

  Being half human had given me immunity from all the other hang-ups angels had to deal with, like ignoring freewill if I had to. Maybe I shouldn’t do it, but the only thing that would really stop me was my own moral code.

  I couldn’t help the smile tugging across my lips when Ann’s thoughts echoed through my head loud and clear. I hope this isn’t a scam. If she tells me she sees a tall, handsome stranger in my future or some other stupid shit, I’m gonna scream. Just tell me if I’m getting the promotion—

  “So you’re…up for a promotion?” I asked and opened my eyes.

  Ann’s back straightened, brows high, eyes hopeful. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  I looked away, listening.

  Don’t say he’s giving it to that slut Leslie. Michael’s such a pig.

  “Michael. He’s your boss?”

  Ann nodded and thought, Michael Paris.

  “Michael Paris,” I said.

  The woman gasped, smile brightening. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

  I smiled but didn’t answer. I was already searching for the thin string of consciousness that connected Ann to her boss. There were hundreds of possibilities in Ann’s mind, like a knotted ball of yarn with countless strands stretching out into the ether—one for every person she’d ever met.

  My angelic power allowed me to follow those connections. For Ann, it connected me to her boss somewhere in Pittsburgh and opened his mind to me as clearly as Ann’s.

  Searching his thoughts took only seconds and with almost no effort at all I had Ann’s answers. It was almost too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy, but I ignored the tug of morality and I met Ann’s hopeful eyes. “He’s definitely considering you for the position, but…Leslie’s a possibility, too.”

  “Shit.” She deflated a half inch and looked away and back again. “What if I sleep with him?”

  Well that was a no-brainer. I didn’t even need to touch the guy’s mind to know what I’d find. I checked anyway. “Yep. That’d probably do it. But—” Omigod…

  My stomach dropped, rolled, and pitched like I was on the deck of the Titanic and we were going down. I doubled over in my chair—wrapping my arms around my gut, trying for steady, even breaths until the sickening sensation passed.

  Ann pushed forward, hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  I nodded, recognizing the quick, nauseating feel of another nephilim, but it had never been this bad. The sickening rise and fall of my stomach subsided. There was something wrong—the sensation was too intense, almost painful. I looked up to scan the room, searching for the face of nausea that would match my own. If his or her presence hit me this hard, mine should do the same back.

  Instinct, or maybe it was dumb luck, made me look past Ann to my booth’s sign on the other side of the table and the notepaper that now covered my picture. It was just kind of stuck there, wet, red smears at opposite corners plastering it to the poster board. I got up, walking around the table, my body numb, an intuitive dread weighing in my gut.

  There were fingerprints and smudges all over it in the same sticky red liquid. It was blood; I was sure of it. But whose? I didn’t think I wanted to know. Finding a clean spot along the edge, I pulled it off and read the message messily scrawled in black ink.

  Join us, or your boyfriend will.

  My gaze flicked to the people waiting in line, the first few only feet from the sign. “Who left this? Who put this here?”

  Confused, worried eyes met mine, all of them shaking their heads. No one had seen. No one had noticed. It didn’t matter. I knew who’d left the note. I’d felt it. Gibborim.

  “Crap.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dan still wasn’t taking my calls. Not since the night Eli was attacked more than a week ago. I’d tried calling a couple times and left messages, but he hadn’t called me back. I had decided to take it as a hint that he still needed time. Not that I blamed him. If he’d left my bed to go nurse a sexy, immortal angel—
if angels were female—I’d be…upset.

  So, okay. He deserved some space. I just couldn’t give it to him. I had to talk to him, to warn him that the gibborim might try to get to me through him. My stomach roiled at the thought of a gibborim attacking Dan, triggering his powers, making him one of them. Or worse, catching him off guard and slicing him to ribbons because of me. The thought made the bile push at the back of my throat. I swallowed it down—told myself to be calm.

  He’d be okay. I’d get to him, whether he was still mad at me or not, and I’d keep him safe.

  Worry twisted my thoughts in circles even the note flashed through my brain. I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t think about anything but warning Dan.

  “What is it?” Jaz asked, striding into the booth to stand next to me.

  “There you are. What took you so long?” I asked. I’d been screaming for him in my head for ten minutes.

  “Hey. I’m next,” a very large woman in line said.

  “He’s not a client. He’s…he’s my assistant.”

  Jaz huffed, offended. “Contrary to what Elizal may have led you to believe, I am not your personal assistant or your guardian angel. I am your magister.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Listen, I need you to go to Dan. Make sure he’s okay until I can get out of here.”

  “I am not his guardian, either.”

  I took the big angel by the arm and led him to the far corner of my booth. It was as much privacy as I could manage in the small space. “I just had a visit from a gibborim. He left this.” I pulled the bloody note from my pocket and waited while he read. “I need to let Dan know to be careful.”

  Jaz’s forehead creased above his dark sunglasses. “What has your former lover done to garner their notice?”

  “I don’t know. And he’s not my former anything,” I said, offended. “We’re just taking a break.” I think. “I mean, nothing’s been discussed. We’re just—”

  “Forgive me.” Jaz held up a long-fingered hand to stop me. “My word choice must have given the impression that your relationship status matters to me in the least. It does not.”

  “Right. You’re a real peach.” I shook my head, pushing the irritation from my mind. “For now, it doesn’t matter what the gibborim have got planned, or why. The most important thing is letting Dan know he might be a target.”

  Jaz waggled a finger at my purse under the table. “Can you not message him on Mr. Bell’s little device?”

  “My cell phone?” Not exactly Alexander Bell’s device anymore, but whatever. “He’s not taking my calls. Just go to the police station and keep an eye on him, will you? It was probably a bluff. I mean, the gibborim might be playing for the other team, but they’re still on the human grid and not likely to screw with cops. But I’d feel better if he literally had an angel watching over him.”

  Jaz tilted his head with a quizzical lift to his brow. “Why?”

  “To protect—” Then I realized Jaz wasn’t a bend-the-rules kind of magister. He’d stand by while any gibborim or demon who wanted to sliced Dan to bits. “Okay, if any gibborim or demon shows up to attack Dan before I get there, can you just pop back here and let me know?”

  I’d be able to teleport to Dan in a heartbeat, though I wasn’t sure how the sudden disappearance would go over with the people waiting around my booth. Not that it would stop me.

  Jaz gave a noble bow of his head, his hands clasped in front of him. “I can do that.”

  “Hey, my appointment was supposed to be like twenty minutes ago,” the large flower-child lady said.

  I glanced at her. “Just a minute, ma’am.” I looked back to Jaz, but he was gone.

  §

  It was past six when I finished my last scheduled reading. There were still ten diehards in line hoping I’d squeeze them in, but I had to get to the police station. I had to know Dan was all right, even though I hadn’t heard from Jaz to tell me any differently. Didn’t matter. I couldn’t stay.

  So I grabbed my purse and dug out my business cards. After some quick apologies and offers to do a free reading for each at my home, I was out of there.

  Climbing into my Jeep, I couldn’t help wishing that I’d left my car at home. With my power I could’ve been downtown, literally, in the blink of an eye. In my Jeep it’d take me twenty minutes with the construction on I-376—longer if I hit traffic. And there was always traffic on 376.

  Thirty minutes later I pushed through the squad-room door and relief washed over me like a soothing balm. Seeing Dan across the room talking to another cop let me take the first easy breath I had in hours. He was okay. Safe.

  I was already crossing the room when he noticed and moved to meet me halfway. Before he could say a word, before he could think, I threw myself into his arms, feeling his breath huff from the impact warm across my neck. His body was strong and hard against mine, holding me for a moment before he wedged us apart.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, leaning away until I stepped back where he could see my face easily.

  “Didn’t Jaz tell you?” I looked past him, scanning the cluster of desks spaced throughout the large room and further back to the wall and table with the coffee maker, then beyond through the windows of offices and interrogation rooms. I didn’t see him.

  “Who’s Jaz?”

  I glanced back at Dan. Damn he looked good in the snug-fitting blue uniform shirt and badge. “My new magister.”

  Dan balked. “Where’s Eli? Is he okay?”

  For a second I’d forgotten he didn’t know that they’d reassigned Eli. I shrugged, looking away. It was weird talking to Dan about Eli, knowing there was no love lost between the two. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in more than a week. The powers that be decided that with all the attacks going on, I was too much of a distraction for him. They told him he had to leave and he did.”

  The bitterness in my tone surprised me. I knew Eli hadn’t had a choice. He had to obey the Council and I’d agreed with them. But a part of me wished he had put up more of a fight—wished he’d found a way to keep in touch. It was stupid. The Council was right. I was a danger to Eli…in more ways than one. Still, I missed him.

  “So he’s gone? Out of your life for good?” I’d expected Dan to sound more pleased by the idea. “I’m sorry, Em. You didn’t tell me.”

  Dan was a good guy and I was an idiot for letting my feelings for anyone else distract me from him. “You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

  He made a small snort and looked away, blushing. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  I shrugged again. “It’s okay. You needed space. I got that.”

  A moment of awkward silence passed and then Dan cleared his throat. “So who’s this Jaz? What’s he look like?”

  “Oh, I think you’d remember if you’d seen him,” I said, picturing the nearly seven-foot man trying to go unnoticed. Though he always managed it somehow. “I don’t see him. He was supposed to be here watching you.”

  “Me?” Dan pointed a finger at his chest, straightening. “Why me?”

  “I had a visitor today—”

  “Wysocki, is that her?”

  Dan turned and I looked past him to an office door and the heavyset cop, Commander Frank Batts, standing in the threshold. Dan had mentioned his boss before and I recognized him right away from Dan’s description. He had twenty years on Dan, plus six inches and fifteen pounds. His thick, salt-and-pepper hair was cut regulation short—a quarter inch off the collar, neatly trimmed on the sides and on top. He was heavier than Dan’s wrestler-type body, his desk job sagging his muscled abs into a small paunch.

  Dan looked back at me, his sexy smirk replaced with tense worry. He whispered an oath under his breath, then looked back to his boss. “Uh, yeah. Yes sir. This is Emma Hellsbane. She came in voluntarily.”

  The older man nodded. “Good. Well, find out what she has to say for herself. Let me know.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dan turned back to me. “Sorry about this. I meant
to call and give you a heads-up.”

  I glanced from Dan to the commander and back again. “What’s going on?”

  He propped his hands on his hips, puffed his chest. “We got him.”

  “Him?”

  “The guy from the airport. The one who sliced the other kid’s head off.” A proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he leaned close so only I could hear. “He’s human.”

  No. He isn’t. Not completely. But I figured I’d keep the latest revelation to myself until I was sure Dan could handle knowing there was yet another group of people who might like to rip me from the mortal coil. “How do you know he’s the one?”

  “Surveillance cameras,” he said. “Only problem is there was some kind of glitch with the tape and you can’t actually see him attack the other kid. He just appears on camera and pulls the sword out of nowhere the same way you do. Then he swings it around and, poof, the other kid’s lying there dead.”

  “Can I see the video?”

  “No. It’s evidence, Em. You know I can’t—”

  I nodded before he could finish. “Yeah. I know. But what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. What do you mean you don’t see him killing the other kid?”

  Dan tossed his head for me to follow and we zigzagged through the clusters of desks, grouped in twos and fours, toward the hallway at the back of the room. He lowered his voice so only I could hear as we walked. “I’m only telling you this because I’m betting you know what’s going on better than any of us. I need answers, Em.”

  “I can only tell you what I know.” And what I think you can handle.

  “The video shows the perp, Greg Reddmen, walk into frame. He stops right in front of the seats where we found the vic—”

  “Mathew,” I said, remembering the boy’s headless body stretched limp and lifeless across the plastic airport seats. “His name was Mathew Stonewell.”