Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  She placed a hand over her mouth, as though that could stop the yelp she let out. “Hellfire? In Momma’s aura. But how?”

  “There’s only two ways … either the audbilious charm, meaning your mother slept with a demon. Or … Look, Riona, maybe your dad was just some random prick. Maybe your magic really does come from your mother’s side.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Progeny of demon, while rare, does happen. And once in a while, one of them is gifted with magic. Your magic, Riona … It might actually be from your mom’s side. Your dad could be just some worthless shmuck.”

  “But, I’m a Pure Soul. I’m one of the good guys. That couldn’t be possible.”

  “Being a Pure Soul isn’t about where you came from, it’s about the decisions you’ve made to get you here. “

  Silence stayed between them in the cab on the way back to the train station. Back on the T, they sat side by side, but may as well have been on separate trains for all the togetherness going on between them. Until Jerry reached down and put his hand on hers.

  His voice lacked all its characteristic sarcasm. “I know you think what you did is right.”

  “I only—”

  “Don’t. I’m not asking you to defend yourself, but I want you to be ready. Something like this doesn’t go unchecked. Ramiel is so going to shove his fist down your throat. You stand up to him. You tell him that while he’s down there, can he get that itch on your liver.”

  “He’s going to know?”

  Jerry suppressed a laugh. “Bastard watcher angels always seem to know it whenever a Pure Soul fucks up.”

  “This knife, Jerry. It belonged to my father, then killed the man I love before offing Satan himself. Now it’s led me to see that my dad was actually a bastard, a motherfucking kidnapper. No wonder Lucifer said he knew my dad. If you’re right, if demons really can reproduce with humans, I’m starting to believe that’s what I am … The child of a demon.”

  “You forget, however, Lucifer said that he knew your father, but he wasn’t in Hell.”

  The witch shrugged. “Maybe my father’s something different, something evil. I’ve been reading a lot lately.” She hoped that fact didn’t key him into why. “I know there’s all sort of in-betweens that don’t belong in Heaven or Hell, things that just hang in the mortal plane and look after their own. Maybe my dad was a vampire or an incubus or Templar. But, is it weird? I still want to know. I have to know.” Her hand smoothed over her bag. Under the canvas, even through the gym sock, she could feel the outlines of the dagger, felt how it would fit so perfectly into the crook of her folded fist. “If I’m going to keep from throwing this damned thing in the bay or turning it on myself, I have to know how all this is connected.”

  She heard him swallow. “Then answers you shall have. I know a guy, but he’s kind of hard to get a hold of. Until I’m sure he’s willing to talk to you, I’d prefer to leave it at that.”

  Her little giggle sounded foreign to her own ears. “You and Dee, you always ‘know a guy.’”

  “Yup, in this case, I think it’s the same one.”

  Chapter 10

  “What in the hell were you thinking?”

  Ramiel’s fist pounded the table, leaving a shallow indent on the wood’s veneer. He exercised restraint. He was a freaking archangel. In ancient times, Big Boss outsourced the destruction of whole cities to the creatures. Surely a Broyhill oak dining set posed little challenge in comparison to Sodom and Gomorra.

  “Screwing with a human’s will is a big, serious, freaking not-ever unless their life is in danger, maneuver. And then having Jerry alter her memory after the fact? Congratulations on fucking up twice in one day.”

  Jerry assumed an uncharacteristically humble tone. “Ramiel, I’m sure Riona had a—”

  “Can it, demon!” If it was possible for eyes to growl, Ramiel’s did so. “You, above all—and I use this term in its most technical of means—people knew how wrong that was. Maybe the old saying is true: you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You’re just going to stick with tried-and-true demon protocol the first chance you get, huh?”

  Jerry’s eyes stayed forward as Ramiel paced the room. “I’m a pillar, remember? It’s not my call. If my Keystone needs my strength, I’ll give it to her. If she asks me to do something within my power, I feel obliged to comply.”

  “I don’t fucking care if you’re name is Jeeves and Riona was the Queen of Sheba. You had no justification to follow her order. You’ve been given a second chance at free will. Don’t fucking waste it. Tell her to go fuck herself again if she tells you to do something so amazingly irreprehensible.”

  Images of that very act filled his mind, and Jerry cursed himself for not making that very suggestion when the situation arose.

  The angel spun to Riona. “That charm exists only to erase memories when humans see something they shouldn’t. Close family members and others already in the know are an exemption to your vow to secrecy. Nothing in your mother’s memories is considered contraband.”

  “Riona’s no idiot,” Jerry countered, one hundred percent unfazed by the bull breathing before him. He’d faced down angels before—both of the revered and fallen variety—and didn’t care for all their blunt and bluster. “If she said it was necessary, it was.”

  Dee, until now sitting back and watching the mayhem unfold from behind the New York Times crossword puzzle, lowered his paper. “Jerry’s right.”

  Riona and Ramiel did a double take.

  “What? Even broken clocks and blah blah blah …” Dee added.

  Jerry sat up and grinned. “Well, looks like our little bromance is finally bearing fruit.”

  “Fuck you, Romani. You’ll always be a double-dealing, opportunistic demon prick in my eyes. Pure Soul, my ass. More like Pure Suck. But I know Riona. I trust Riona. If that was her call, there was a fucking good reason.” Dee’s nose turned back to the print. “But she might alleviate the angels on high of their collective wadded panties if she’d just come out and say what that reason was.”

  Which focused Ramiel’s attention right back on her. Again.

  Boy, Jerry had pinned the tail on the donkey when he warned her there’d be a fall out, but even this seemed extreme. What happened to the good old days, when you got a slap on the wrist and your wife turned into a pillar of salt? Was there no compassion in the world anymore?

  The witch closed her eyes, drew a deep, slow breath, and began. “I’m sorry. I let my emotions get away from me and asked Jerry to do something that only benefitted me personally. I shouldn’t have done it, and it won’t happen again. Magic … It’s sort of becoming a crutch whenever I’m at my wit’s end.”

  A place she spent so much time in, she was worried she’d soon be expected to chip in for rent and pizza.

  Puppy dogs would have been twisted by the sad, reticent expression Riona plastered on. Ramiel might have the power to cause floods and topple tree lines in his hands, but he was a sucker for a female acting all human and ashamed. As rivulets began to trickle down her face, as pathetic gurgling gulps leapt from her throat, his resolve broke. Her face fell like melting taffy, taking Ramiel’s anger with it.

  “Okay, okay, nix the tears. I was just getting used to you not crying constantly.”

  The request went unheeded. Finally, he gave up and crossed to her, taking her into his embrace. “I know you’ve gone through a lot lately, but look at it from my perspective. If two Pure Souls get themselves damned in the space of a few months under my watch, it’s going to look really bad on my performance reviews. Protect your ass and my job, okay?”

  Dee lowered his paper again. “Is anyone talking about taking your place? I can’t believe one little screw up like this would be enough to justify that.”

  Jerry scooted out from the table, talking through a stretch. “Yeah, but don’t forget he fucked up by being on watch when a demon joined the corp. Can’t imagine Old Gabe is too thrilled about that, is he? Well, long day and I’m beat. R
iona, good night. Dee, whatever. And Ramiel, as usual, kiss my keister with your plump, heavenly yap.”

  Jerry’s shirt twisted up in Ramiel’s grip. “Not so fast. We still got business to discuss.”

  Patting her tears, Riona looked up in shock as though Ramiel had just declared he had decided to pursue his lifelong dream to be a competitive cheese carver. “What business?”

  Tossing Jerry back in his chair, he pulled from the air a manila folder, which he then tossed on the table. Jerry opened the file and began fingering through the pages within.

  “Did I miss something? When did we get cast in a community theater production of Urban Cowboy?”

  With a thrust of his arm, Dee reached out and snatched the folio out of Jerry’s grip. When he leafed through the pages, however, his reaction failed to instill fear. “Oh, can I go side saddle? You know I’m a fan of reverse cowboy, right?”

  A corner of Jerry’s mouth rose. “Riona is, too.”

  Which is how he ended up sucking carpet.

  Regaining control of his sense, Ramiel turned to apologize to Riona for his outlandish actions, when he caught sight of her balled fist and her racing breath.

  “Wait, did we all hit him?” Dee asked.

  Riona turned to the demigod, kissing the back of her knuckles. “Yeah, but I’m the reason his nose is bleeding.”

  Being reborn by having your soul stuffed in someone else’s meat-wrapper really fucked with your self-image. Who was he? Gaius Gallicus? Jerry Romani? A demon? A pure soul? Jimmy Hoffa? A human body was nothing more than a byproduct of a roll in the hay, an amalgamation of tissue and fluids arranged by microscopic genetic chains. If that’s what defined a person, as so many scientist believed, then he was Marcello Angeletti. Yeah, try telling that to Riona.

  Stepping from the shower, Jerry grabbed the hand towel next to the sink, using it to dab his eyes. His fingers accidentally grazed his swollen proboscis, making him wince. Whatever anyone else could say of the witch, they couldn’t deny she had one mean left hook. Jerry could feel a new drop of blood sliding down his upper lip. Leaning over, he grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, wadded it up, and shoved it up his right nostril. When he caught himself in the mirror again, the other face floating behind him in the reflection came as little surprise.

  “Thought you might be stopping by,” Jerry grumbled. “You can’t resist a good shake down. Just got to know every little detail, don’t you?”

  Ramiel’s eyebrow arched. “This coming from a gnosis demon.”

  “Former gnosis demon,” Jerry reminded him, throwing the hand towel in to the sink and flicking off the bathroom light. Ramiel’s whisper light footfalls followed him into the bedroom. “I got a pardon, or don’t you remember that?”

  “Oh, I remember it, but you’ll remember I advised against it. Some would even say campaigned and rallied for the opposition. You don’t fool me, Jerry. Big Boss may have helped to rescue you from Hell, but I still sniff brimstone coming from your general direction.” Ramiel leaned against the wall as Jerry got into bed and covered his naked form—no immodesty coming from that direction—with the comforter. “Think I didn’t pick up on your obfuscation routine? Dish. What wasn’t Riona telling me?”

  Jerry let out a sigh that slowly transformed into a hiss. “Look, Molly Dade is five drinks in to a crazy tab and six shots in to being a bitch at the best of times. And now she’s got Alzheimer’s to boot. It’s first stage, and Riona doesn’t know of course. Molly directed her doctor and the staff at Hanaford not to inform her until it became necessary.”

  “A convenient excuse for Molly’s shady memory when Riona finds out later, then.” Ramiel shifted his weight to the other leg. “You erased Molly’s memories, didn’t you?”

  “Wasn’t me, Chief. But yes, someone’s been fucking with her brain.”

  Ramiel examined the floor as he brewed over that detail. “I don’t remember that suggestion having ever come up back then. In fact, I remember someone getting cut down for even hinting at it. Our regent at the time made it very clear that that sort of thing was a Grigori move. I wonder …”

  “Fat bit of good it did, whoever’s responsible,” Jerry said. “Riona’s magic is a hell of a lot stronger than mine. She almost unwrapped everything. You do realize sooner or later she’s going to pick up on how unique she really is, don’t you?”

  “Thank goodness I have you to distract her from the truth. At least your childish charm kept her from finding out the biggest thing. You’re in danger of impressing me.” Ramiel’s lips pulled back in a grin, revealing teeth as perfect as they were temporal. “But I still have faith in your ability to show your true colors soon enough. So, did she do anything else in Salem except break the cardinal rule of magic?”

  Jerry hesitated, preparing to wig out the heavenly host standing at his bedside. “There’s a witch there I used to schlep about a half-century ago. I sent Riona to her, told her Bunny might be able to tell her something about the dagger.”

  As predicted, the angel bristled. “You what?”

  “Oh, don’t fret your pretty little halo there, angel-boy,” Jerry said dismissively. “Riona left knowing no more than she did when she walked in. It could have easily gone the other way though. You know she’s not going to stop until she finds out what that thing is, right? I hope you’re planning a Texas-sized intervention at that point.” Jerry pulled up his covers, tucking himself in as best he could. “Now, I’ve had a long day, and unlike when I lived in Hell, I really will be cranky in the morning if I don’t get my beauty sleep. Please shut off the lamp as you leave.”

  He closed his eyes, hoping for silence. What he got instead was Ramiel’s foot in his ribcage, forcing him on to his backside.

  “What about that other thing?” he demanded.

  Jerry cracked open an eye and gave him a Cyclops-styled glare down. “What do you think? Do you see her making moony eyes at me?”

  “Don’t let me down now, Jerry.” Ramiel’s head turned slowly, surveying the room. “Did you attempt to seduce her and woo her yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I believe in this old-fashioned concept called ‘none of your fucking business’,” Jerry bit back. He propped himself up on his elbows, confident he broadcasted annoyance on all open channels. “I don’t get you, oh Holy Messenger. You hate my guts. You think my resurrection was a mistake. Yet you want me to hook up with your precious Keystone witch, even though she clearly thinks of me with as much warmth as a polar bear’s pile of shit in Alaska. Don’t tell me you’re actually happy with this plan.”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t want her.”

  He guffawed. “I love her so much it brought me back from the dead. I know that little miracle has happened a few times before, but not to a fallen soul. Nevertheless, my love for Riona isn’t the point, angelwipe. She doesn’t want me, and I have it straight from the horse’s mouth on that one. You and I both know the man she wants is boiling in Hell’s kitchen, and on top of that is due to arrive back to Earth in a package of flesh you can bet your sweet bippy Lucifer will design to be instant seduction, aka a pathway to damnation for her.”

  “But you’re the one,” Ramiel retorted. “As much as it pisses me off, it’s pretty fucking clear you’re the one the prophecy warned … I mean, foretold to us. The fact that I think you’re the lowest, scum-sucking, goat-kissing, disappointing fuck-up this side of the end times is irrelevant. I bow to the will of Big Boss, whether I like it or not. And if that means I have to oversee getting you and Riona to go sailing off into the sunset, then so be it. I’m going to be your personal Chuck Woolery from here until I do. Now get on your game and make her fall in love with you before Marc comes back, or so help you God, you will experience a new level of pain that will make Hell look like Disneyland.”

  “Spoken like a man who’s clearly never been to Disneyland.”

  The angel gave no further comment, though his glare could fill out about three profani
ty-laced paragraphs.

  “Look, I can’t make promises, but I’m working at it. But I won’t sleep with her until she wants me for me, not because I’m an open lap living in her basement.”

  “Nice time to decide to grow a pair of ovaries.” Ramiel reached out to the right and found the switch beneath his fingers. With a click, the room fell in to darkness, only a pale light falling from the book-sized ventilation window on the top of the street-side wall. “I can’t believe I have to convince you to pursue the woman you’re obviously in love with. I mean, why would you fight against having the woman you love?”

  “Because I love her, ass. Maybe the whole concept of treasuring someone’s heart over what she does to your dick doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s the truth of it. I want her to choose me, not—what was the term you used—‘bow to the will of Big Boss, whether she likes it or not.’ In the meantime, she better do something about all that energy that’s building up in her and looking for a release. I have a feeling she’ll be pitter-pattering down the stairs before too long if she doesn’t vent that shit, and I’m not ready to convince myself to not be the lightning rod that grounds her charge. Any chance you can do something about that?”

  The angel feigned confusion. “You know I don’t sleep with mortals.”

  “Yes, I know you don’t sleep with … mortals.”

  Ramiel’s eyes went wide, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been a gnosis demon for years. Did the angel really think Jerry couldn’t pick up on sexual tension between him and a hard-body nephilim like Persephone? At least he didn’t leap to deny it, but of course he wasn’t about to confirm it either. Ramiel’s shoulders dropped as his eyes went to his toes.

  “I’ll work a charm. I can sideline her energy for a while. Not forever, though. It’s not her fault, it’s her nature. It’s our … It’s not her fault,” he repeated.