Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  Jerry slapped his hands to his face. “But if I can’t pull on a glamour, how in the hell am I supposed to look right for this? Schmitz ain’t a rocket scientist, but he’s going to be able to tell I ain’t as tall, dark, and handsome as I was the first time he met me.”

  “But you are,” Ramiel answered, putting his arm around Jerry and leading him to the en suite bathroom in the back of Persephone’s office. “In short, you are you again. I know human transfigurations are rare, but so are resurrected demon souls given a second shot at humanity.”

  Holy fucking shit with a side of fuck me, he was him again. That was, without a glamour, Jerry was Jerry. In the flesh, without deception.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jerry cried. “Wait, what happened to Marc’s body?”

  Discomfort etched Ramiel’s features into a mask of regret. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  Jerry tipped his eyes to the floor. “His mother. Someone needs to tell his mother.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Dee’s voice was soft. “He was my best friend. I owe his family that respect. Don’t worry about it, Jer. I’ll go see Cecilia after Christmas. She knew her son’s role in all this. She knew someday, she’d probably get that call.”

  Chapter 32

  Chipper’s hulking body filled the door of the kiosk where Riona waited. The booth’s interior held more reels of tickets, stacks of papers, and miscellaneous bar gear than she could have thought possible for such a closet of a room.

  “Damn, you clean up fine.” The weredog’s breath labored at the sight of her.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she returned as she rose from the duct-tape laden stool and stood. It was true, and there was no point in being coy. While not her style, Chipper sure didn’t come up short. He was dressed to impress. She could have been insulted by his obvious gawking, but she suspected he had no control over it. Might not have even been aware of it. Learning Chipper wasn’t human explained many of his animalistic intricacies. Learning she herself was half-angel explained why the smallest act on her part, like getting all pretty up in here, could kick any male’s libido into hyper drive. They were both victims of circumstance and biology.

  “It’s, um … It’s time to get started, they say.” He motioned behind his back, to the direction of the dance floor. “Assuming you’re ready. I’m going to walk you up the aisle, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” She offered out her arm. “Shall we?”

  Riona had taken a quick survey of the attendees from a concealed position when she’d first arrived, mostly to be sure that Ditter had made it. She’d confirmed the details to him on the phone the day before. The snow, however, might have convinced him to just stay locked up in his hotel suite watching old movies and drinking $20 mini-bottles of booze. He’d made it, though. He sat in the third row, across the aisle from where her father beamed like a sun ray and her mother gawked. The few dozen strangers making up the rest of the attendees didn’t surprise her much; Dee had informed her he’d be “stocking the bar,” as he put it. She admitted it was a good idea, but hated the fact that his bottom line at the gym was going to take a hit.

  “Don’t worry,” he had offered dismissively to her objections. “Six free months for forty people? I’ll have forty customers for life now. Especially if my caterer pulls through with that spitted lamb I asked for.”

  All she could see of Jerry was his backside as the speakers over the dance floor blasted out the traditional wedding march at decibels likely to cause long term hearing loss. Dee, however, had his body turned in her direction from his aisle seat in the front row, his gaze on her evidencing nothing except utter adoration and respect. Riona met her mother’s eyes as she passed her and her father, surprised to see them both filled with joy and pride. Okay, maybe not so surprised by her dad, but that her mom wasn’t leaping up and shouting out, “Hallelujah, my lesbo-loving daughter has finally gotten her head on straight!” was a bit of a surprise.

  She could tell at a glance that the officiator Dee had managed to scrounge up came to them as an act of desperation. The hippie hanger-on was seventy if he wasn’t a day, and had longer hair and more sequins on than she did. Instead of vestments, his particular association favored tie-dyed T-shirts and holey blue jeans. He did have a black sash with embroidered gold threads draped over both shoulders that gave him some air of authority, but about as much as a crossing guard.

  Chipper slid his arm out from hers as they reached the front of the aisle, and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. While she and the weredog weren’t particularly close or well acquainted, the gesture pleased her. She bent into him and allowed him access, before turning herself toward the groom.

  Obviously she had known this is what Jerry would look like with his glamour pulled back on. She’d known this man in the biblical sense. No part of his body was foreign to her. Still, it had been the better part of a year since she’d looked upon him in this incarnation, this mask of magic he’d worn while he charmed her and disarmed her. To say he looked hot was an understatement. He was cheek-flushing, breath-racing, core-wetting male perfection. Yet, it wasn’t the face that had her insides turning to gelatinous goo and that had her panting and anxious. Yeah, he could light a house on fire, but the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her now unhinged her.

  Look at him. There he stood, wearing a musty tux, beaming like he was the luckiest man on Earth, even though this was all a hoax to save her ass. Why should it surprise her? Since the moment he’d come back, Jerry had done nothing except protect her. He’d thrown himself between her and a fallen angel on more than one occasion. Even now, she realized that while he couldn’t have told her of her parentage, sending her to Bunny had been meant to give her an opportunity to discover it on her own. And he wasn’t afraid to call her out when she erred either. Riona still remembered how he’d become Molly’s champion when Riona had given into to temptation and assaulted her mother with magic. Then, just as quickly, he’d turned to counsel her, made her feel she could be better, made her resolve to live. Even tonight, he was planning to whisk her away from here so she didn’t have to face Marc until she was ready, with no strings attached. Everything Jerry had done was done for her.

  Riona felt her eyes flicker as the truth, on dispatch from her heart, banged on the walls of her brain and begged entrance. Her mind wasn’t so quick to cede. It wanted proof. It wanted justification. How could she love a man who had played party to an attempt to corrupt her soul and cause her to fall? How? Well, start with the fact that even during theie relationship, he had been nothing but respectful, courteous, brave, and tender. That how, even knowing he would serve the rest of his sentence in Hell being roasted on a spit for doing so, he had found a way around his bondage to help her defeat Lucifer. Or how, since coming back to the mortal world, while he’d kept up his campaign, he’d never forced her or pressured her into doing anything she wasn’t ready for. That even when she had attempted to seduce him, he wouldn’t allow it unless it meant something. How he had suffered under Dee and Ramiel’s constant barrage of insults and jabs about how he could never change, and instead of fighting them with words, he’d proven them wrong with his actions. And the seal on the whole situation, he was here because Big Boss thought him worthy of a second chance. Was her judgment superior to His?

  A sudden, mind-blowing, utter shock of an epiphany struck Riona like lightning: despite all that happened, despite the feelings she had for Marc, she still loved Jerry Romani.

  Okay, her brain finally rolled over. You love him. Great, now what are you going to do about it?

  The hippie before them held his hands out wide. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today with the blessing of Gaia to join …”

  “Stop!” Riona’s hand landed on the hippie’s chest, pushing him back a step.

  Jerry blanched. His white face and pale lips frightened her. “Riona, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

  His shoulders fell, taking h
er heart along with it. That’s how much he loved her; even in the hypothetical, the thought of her changing her mind and leaving him at the altar crushed him.

  She pulled back from the hippie and reached her right hand out, hitching her fingertips under Jerry’s chin and bringing his eyes up to meet hers. “I want to do this the right way. The pure way.” She turned toward the audience. She knew she had seen him from the corner of her eye on her way up the aisle. “Ramiel?”

  The angel stood, though he was more confused than a pro wrestler in a tea parlor. “Yeah?”

  “Will you marry us?”

  Jerry’s grip on her hands almost broke her fingers. He was beaming when she turned back to him.

  “Do you really mean that?” Jerry gasped, tears teasing the corners of his eyes. He leaned in toward her and whispered into her ear, “Riona, if Ramiel does the ceremony, you realize that’s binding, right? You realize what it means if an archangel pronounces us husband and … If you become mine, I mean …” His words dissolved into a soft laugh only she could hear.

  Riona pulled back and locked his gaze to hers. “I do. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to. I finally realize that I can’t get back what I’ve lost, but I’m not about to throw away what I’ve gained.”

  Jerry pressed his lips to hers as Ramiel took his position at the altar, pushing the hippie officiator toward the seats.

  “I’m so going to make you scream tonight,” Jerry promised as he pulled away. “Just you wait until I get you alone.”

  She hoped no one else could hear, but she was positive they could all see how flushed she was from out on the street.

  “Darn my overly sensitive hearing,” Ramiel muttered. “You sure you both want to do this? You sure you want me doing this?”

  “I do.” Riona laughed at her own pun. Jerry also shook with silent laughter “We do.”

  Ramiel inhaled, turned out his hands in a stretch, making each of his fingers pop. “Okay, then. You asked for it. Dearly beloved,” he began, raising his voice to carry through the room, “we are gathered here today, with the blessings of the Creator, to join this woman, Riona Dade, and this man, Jerry Romani…”

  “That’s Gaius Gallicus, chief.” Jerry gave her a mischievous wink, as though even she should know better.

  “Fine. And Gaius Gallicus, in the bonds of eternal union …”

  Chapter 33

  Love doesn’t keep to a schedule, and it doesn’t respect your time. Sometimes it shows up a year too early, when you have other obligations. Sometimes it comes bumbling through the door to announce to you it had had a sweet deal hooked up for you, but it got lost on the way over and now it’s gone. And once in a while, and hopefully just once because that’s all you really need it to, it shows up right on time, with a dozen roses, and a box of chocolates, just as you’re pulling dinner from the oven.

  Jerry’s arms encircled Riona, swaying her from side to side to the strains of an Old Glenn Miller tune pouring out of the speakers. Chipper had informed her that the sound system wasn’t calibrated for quiet. The next lowest setting was off. As carrying on a conversation under the Bose bass-thumpers proved impossible, she and Jerry took to communicating through their glances alone. He “told” her how much he wanted to get this over so he could get her alone. She “answered” that she was all up for that, just as soon as they put in a respectable appearance.

  When the song ended, he led her from the dance floor to the bar, where a spread featuring lamb, dolmades, and roasted potatoes had more than a few of their casual guest staring slack-jawed.

  Jerry’s foot hitched on the footrest that ran the length of the bar. “Don’t suppose you have any Zima?”

  The barman, a regular staffer who had jumped at the chance to earn a little holiday pay and probably all of twenty-three, looked at him perplexed. “Isn’t that some sort of Russian Vodka? No, I don’t think Miss Zitka stocks that.”

  “Just wine then,” the crestfallen ex-demon ceded. The barmen poured two glasses, one of which Jerry offered to the bride. “Did you really mean all that?”

  “All what?”

  Jerry pushed the drink from her lips and brought his body to hers. His words tickled her lips. “Don’t be coy now, you magical minx. You realize you just became my wedded. I have certain privileges now. If you disobey me, I can take you across my knee and spank you.”

  “So you want me to disobey, then?”

  “Out with it, Riona. You at least like me now?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, I still hate you. But I also more than like you,” she said. It was true, but even if she could follow through with the actions, the words were going to take a bit longer. “I know what you want to hear me say, Jer. Just wait for that part a little longer, okay? But, yes, I meant everything I said at the altar. I loved Marc, but we were never going to happen. It was impossible from the start. I need to move on. And you? You’ve been through it all with me and keep coming back for more.”

  His lips brushed against her in the mere semblance of a kiss. Even the small gesture had her wound up and wanting more.

  He must have sensed her readiness. “You know, we could leave any time. Besides, I have a surprise for you. A big surprise.”

  “I know it’s been a while, but I doubt anything about it will be very surprising. And I remember how big it is.” Though, she thought, it would still be Marc’s, wouldn’t it? She sighed as his lips made their way down to tease the meeting of her neck and her collarbone. “Just a few more minutes,” she begged. “Let me at least say hello to Ditter. After all, he’s the reason this all came together. Then we can get out of here, I promise.”

  Backing off, Jerry gave Riona a gentle push before his hand flattened out and smacked her on the ass. “Go make that Dutchman happy, then, so we can start the honeymoon.”

  The fact that they needed to flee before the arrival of a certain newly-incarnated demon remained an unspoken reminder between them.

  Riona found Ditter sitting a table with another man she didn’t recognize and her mother. A shot of dread went through her when she picked up on the words Molly cackled.

  “… and to this day, I can’t get the stain out of my bedspread.”

  “Enjoying the party?” Riona leapt in as she seated herself between them.

  “Ah, Riona.” Ditter took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “Congratulations, Mrs. Gallicus. Or is it Mrs. Romani? There seemed to be a change of script at that part.”

  Riona sipped her wine as she tried to engineer an explanation. “We all have quirks. You don’t even want to know about his obsession with Sailormoon. Jerry just has this weird thing about his name. He took on a more Anglicized version when he moved to the States. Every so often he just ups and decides out of nowhere to use the original.”

  “I guess Beelzebub wouldn’t be appropriate for the ceremony,” Molly chirped out.

  Riona cupped her hand against the side of her face and leaned in to Ditter. “My mother, she’s a little …” She twirled her fingers for the international sign of crazy. “I hope she hasn’t said anything too embarrassing.”

  “No, not at all,” Ditter assured. “But I hope you didn’t pull all this together for my sake.”

  “All this?” Riona’s smile belied the mental nail-biting her inner freak had just taken up. “What do you mean?”

  “Riona, you have known me for three years. You know how observant I am. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out this wedding was fake?”

  She at least had enough common sense not to deny it. “How could you tell?”

  Ditter’s hand swayed out in front of him. “I’m fairly sure you don’t know any of these people, except your mother of course. And for some reason, the three or four Mr. Olympia candidates that are floating around. None of the others are congratulating you, none of them approaching you. They’re just eating and drinking like it’s a buffet, a show. They clearly have no idea who you are.”

  “I know you respect traditional values,
Mr. Schmitz. And after Jerry told you we’d be getting married, I didn’t want you thinking I was some sort of loosey-goosey or a liar.”

  “I didn’t. But after all this …” Ditter saluted her with a stout of frothy German beer. “But in the end, the love is real; I can see that much. My standards do not have to be yours. Your work is all that concerns me, and your work is beyond reproach. I was only so inquisitive last year because I was surprised you two weren’t already married. I could see you were destined for each other. I hope you really are together, then.”

  “We are. And you’re right, we put this together not intending for it to mean anything. And then, I realized I really do want to be with Jerry.”

  Molly Dade had reached her thirty-second cap on silence. She hooted. “Careful what you wish for, Riona. Just you be careful.”

  “My apologies, Mr. Schmitz, but I wonder if I can borrow Riona from you for a moment.”

  Her father offered a hand. Riona chanced a quick peek at her mother to see what Michael’s presence did to her. Molly was clearly moved by some emotion, but it didn’t appear to be an unpleasant one. She examined Michael in close study, as though trying to diagnose him, trying to find a key to his mystery. It was true then; her mother didn’t recognize her father. Suddenly, she remembered Molly’s terrifying reliving of what had happened between them, and Michael’s claim that it hadn’t gone down that way at all. She had a feeling the truth lay somewhere in the middle. One day, she hoped one of them was able to share it with her.

  “What is it?” Riona asked as her father led her from the dance-floor-turned-reception-area and toward the front of the club, where the stairs ascended towards Persephone’s office.

  “I have an obligation elsewhere.” Michael took her hands in his. “But before I leave, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of what you did. I know you two will have some obstacles to overcome, but I believe you’ll be happy. And also, um …” His eyes turned up toward the stairs. “I’m supposed to ask you to, umm, meet him up there. I believe he wants a few minutes. You know, alone.” Michael squelched a laugh. “Your libido? You got that from me.”