“An awkward father-daughter moment just like at a real wedding? Check.” Riona’s cheeks scorched red as she bit her lip. “We’ll still see each other soon, though, right? You’re not leaving me forever again, are you?”
Despite what her psychologist had predicted years ago, she did not in fact fall in love with her father’s place in her life when he showed up. She had been scarred enough emotionally by one birth parent to put too much instant faith in the other. Still, Michael had been nothing except sincere and hospitable since his return. That, and the fact that angels were so darned tough to hate, had her admitting that Michael was starting to grow on her.
Her father’s hand stroked her cheek, and she actually found herself leaning into it.
“Never,” he assured her. “I have plans for us, my child. You will never again have to be without me.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just, um, go see what he wants.”
Michael saluted his daughter. “Just remember, you have guests to attend to. Don’t be too long.”
Her feet had already carried her halfway up the stairs. “Bye, Mike.”
Riona had never been in Persephone’s office, but she was pretty sure that even for a Goddess, the furniture wasn’t typical. The lamp flickered on as she flipped the switch, revealing not a desk, not a couch or a chair, but a king-sized canopy bed. Only the broad borders of shapes around on the floor could be distinguished. Breathing in the sweet, perfumed air, Riona felt dizzy with curiosity. Her fingers reached out to the bedspread, the feel of it under her fingertips telling her its patchwork appearance wasn’t due to the fabric, but the result of hundreds of rose petals having been spread over its surface. Magic must be at play; roses so fresh would be a hard-to-come-by commodity on a Boston winter day on which six inches of snow had fallen. And although she personally didn’t know any spells that would conjure up a bed and inventory enough to keep a florist stocked for days, Jerry was so much older and more knowledgeable than she was. Who knows what he could pull off?
She could do without being able to magic rose petals into existence, but she wanted to know his trick for making a bed materialize out of thin air. That could come in handy.
It wasn’t until she heard the zipper on her dress being undone that she realized she was no longer alone.
“Hi.”
He didn’t answer her in words. Instead, his mouth came down on her neck, sucking and biting with just enough teasing pain to drive her crazy. His hands pushed down the straps of the dress, easing the fabric down her arms, at last letting the materials fall in a ring around her feet. His hands anchored on her hips from behind, the demanding fingertips pushing into her flesh, giving him the grip he needed to pull her back against him so she could feel the evidence of his arousal. When her body responded out of its own accord, encouraging her feet to her tip toes so she could rub her backside against him, he groaned.
“You like that, huh?” Riona teased as she swiveled her hips to induce the satisfying friction again.
A throaty “yes” met her ears as he unhinged her bra. Riona slid it down over her arms and let it fall to the floor. His hands cupped around her breasts, massaging the already pebbled peaks, rolling her nipple between his fore finger and his thumb, pinching a blind pulse of pleasure through her. Her hands went back over her head and ran a finger over his cheek as his hips began a preview of the rhythm he’d set once he was inside.
Riona was already halfway to a frenzy by the time he guided his right hand down to the white lace of her panties and slipped under the lattice-laced fabric.
“Wet, hot. Just like I dreamed,” he ground out as he undertook his exploration. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”
Riona couldn’t stand the separation. She’d been a year without him. A year without anyone, as it happened. She needed to be made love to again, to feel the connection with another. She fell forward, her hands propped on the bed, the angle pushing her bum insistently against him. After teasing him with the feel of her curves molding against his, Riona reluctantly removed herself from his embrace and crawled up the bed, turning when she reached the headboard and easing herself back. Only then, as he slinked up the bed on all fours in pursuit, did a better, clearer view present itself: Jerry, naked as all get out, springing up like a knock-em over toy.
Propped up on his hands, one of each on either side of her head on the mattress, his face swam before her in the darkness, only the rough contours of his profile visible. “Do you love me?”
Her smile teased him. “I said I will say it in time. I’m not ready yet.”
“You expect me to make love to you without you saying you love me? First the contract, then the deed, witch.”
The gruff edge of his voice gave her pause. “Please, don’t. I can’t say it. Not yet.”
His face leaned in toward hers, and she felt his hips lower, felt his arousal grind against her core through the sole piece of remaining clothing she wore.
“You’ll wed a man you can’t even tell you love?” A hint of rebuke teased his tone. “I guess that fits, being that you also loved a man you could never wed.”
The statement cut into her. Suddenly the heat he had been building within her dissipated. She arched up on her elbows, her flashing eyes bearing into darkness where she couldn’t see his. “What the hell, Jerry?”
His hand came back up to stroke her cheek and his forehead fell against hers. “You can lie like a sinner, you know that?”
Confusedly and still a little dizzy, Riona cocked her head to the side. “You’re one to talk.”
His hand grabbed at her chin and locked their gazes together, his fingers digging into her cheeks. His tight jaw threw up a flag. She could sense that his body shook from a struggle to control his anger. Only then did Riona begin to realize the sudden flip in his attitude wasn’t the only thing off. The silver wedding band she’d just slipped on his finger a half hour ago was missing, along with the deep blue so unique to Jerry’s eyes.
“I love you,” he hissed at her. “That was the last sounds my mortal ears ever heard. I carried those words into the pits of Hell, grasped at it while my soul burned, managed to hold on to my love for you through hellfire, just so I could come back and hear you say it to me one more time. And what did your words end up meaning? Nothing! The second I was out of the picture, you went back to him. Thanks, Riona, for showing me that my death meant nothing to you.”
She tried to scramble out from underneath him, but he had her pinned at the hip. “Marc?”
His white teeth had an eerie glow in the dim light. “In the flesh.”
Chapter 34
Chipper stared at the mess of cable in his hand with as much understanding as if he’d been handed a spleen and told to implant it in his ear. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked.
Jerry squeezed the weredog’s shoulder. “Sometimes it’s the simplest solutions that elude us, mate. Just plug that line back into that port later, and your standard stock of zombie dubstep fanatics won’t know the difference. As for today, don’t worry. I’m sure the ringing in our ears will stop eventually.”
As he crossed the floor to offer a spin with his new mother-in-law, Jerry began to wonder if perhaps his cutting of the main speakers had been premature. The smooth jazz number that radiated softly from the edges of the club meant that talking while dancing with Molly would be unavoidable. Or more rightly put, hearing Molly’s snide remarks would prove impossible.
“Miss Dade, may I have the pleasure?”
His hand outstretched in invitation. Molly looked at him confusedly for a moment, before the hint of a smile etched into her features. Wrinkled and chapped, she slid her palm over his. Her oxygen tank’s cart had one squeaky wheel that screamed like a banshee as they shuffled just far enough to be on the dance floor.
Turning to her, Jerry assumed the proper pose. He knew her legs wouldn’t cooperate for something more than shuffling, so he only swung her arms g
ently from side to side. “How are you doing today, Molly?”
The elderly lady glanced over his shoulder. “That man that was here … That tall man with the dark hair and the gray suit who sat by me. Who is he? I feel like I know him.”
Jerry was pretty certain an angel’s memory charm could be counted on to mask the truth, but he wasn’t surprised by the instinct. After all, even though angels could change their appearance, Riona did look an awful lot like the way her father tended to self-represent as human. As soon as he himself had figured out Riona was part angel, Michael had been father suspect number one due to that fact alone.
“Maybe he’s the man that crawled out of your bed this morning when you were still wearing beer goggles, you sexy minx you,” Jerry quipped.
Molly Dade threw her head back and shrieked. “Ha! Don’t think so, sonny. Old Melvin Duke’s legs haven’t moved since the Clinton administration. Orderly had to pick him up and put him in his wheelchair.”
Without pausing, Jerry leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re precious, you know that?” he said. “I know Riona gets annoyed, but I love your spunk. She got that from you, you know? And I love that about her. Thank you. Thank you, Molly Dade, for raising the woman I love.”
“Lucky she was raised at all,” Molly deadpanned. “So, this shifting your body to look like someone else thing, you do this often?”
Struck dumb, Jerry froze and looked her square in the eye. “I don’t … I’m not sure what …”
Molly play-slapped his face. “Keep them tootsies tapping, lover. People will start to stare.” When he obeyed, she continued, “You both think I’m that far gone, ey? No, dearie, Molly Dade still has a grasp on some things. I was one hell of a witch, you know? And you’re not exactly what you pretend to be either. My instincts are dull now. I can’t tell what you are exactly, but I can see your feelings for Riona are real, so you can’t be that bad.” She shook her head. “Hoped to hell my daughter wouldn’t have the gifts. You know what wicca does to you when you deny it, though?” She looked down to her own body. “It isn’t pretty.”
“How long have you known about Riona’s … abilities?” Jerry asked tentatively.
Molly shrugged. “When she was twelve, she got really pissed at me because I wouldn’t let her wear eye shadow. She didn’t realize that was the reason our house started on fire, because of her anger, but I took care of it for a while after that. Found a witch and had Riona’s magic bound. Guess something must have happened to shake it out of her finally. Fucking shame, too.”
Jerry went wide-eyed, but Molly just chuckled under her breath.
“What?” she said. “You think an old woman can’t cuss. The hell we can’t.”
He laced their fingers and moved her arms with a little more force as the tempo of the next tune’s number demanded. “I don’t get it. Magic is a divine gift, a blessing. Why would you want to keep your daughter from learning the ways?”
“To keep her from her destiny, of course,” Molly stated matter-of-factly. “If you had been told the child you were carrying was going to be the Queen of Hell, you’d send her to her room when she was bad, too.”
“Who told you that?”
Confusion screwed up Molly’s face. She had reached the point where the memory charms wouldn’t allow her access. “Someone, I guess,” she finally answered blankly with a shrug.
Jerry stopped. A debt of truth was owed, memories to be restored for those he had taken from her. “The stranger you asked about? His name is Michael. He’s Riona’s father.” The pause between them felt heavy.
Molly nodded, as though that revelation fit right in with what she had expected. Her hand traipsed down to her stomach, hovering over where once a child had grown. “I wanted to abort her. I remember now. Because she was his child. The child of a fallen.”
“But Michael …”
No, that couldn’t be. Michael was more than an archangel. Michael had been the liaison of the Pure Souls when Jerry had been human. He had been the Prince of the Heavens, the head of the council of seven. His mentor, almost like his father. He, of all heavenly hosts, couldn’t have fallen. Besides, if he had fallen, the other archangels would know. The second Michael had assumed the mantle of Hell, they’d feel it. They’d recognize the loss of one of their own, feel the pain physically as well as spiritually, just like they had when the Grigori descended into Hell. Besides, he had been in their house. No associate of Hell could pass the threshold.
Unless the moment hadn’t come. Unless he was still in the act of falling …
“Thank you for the dance, Molly. I have to go.”
She turned back toward her seat with a look that failed to conceal just how don’t-give-a-damn she felt about that. “Your pleasure, I’m sure.” Perhaps her mind really was falling apart; she acted like it was no big deal that she’d just revealed the truth Riona’s father was hiding.
It wasn’t that Dee had never seen Ramiel indulge in the occasional libation before, although as an angel, the effects of the alcohol were nil. Kind of made one wonder what the point was. Despite that, he gathered that the angel was dousing the mass quantities of Patron with the hopes that this time would prove the exception.
“So, what’ve you been doing to keep busy?” Dee asked like they were any two friends catching up.
Ramiel’s shoulders jerked. “Just kinda hanging out, you know,” his finger pointed toward the sky, “up there. Been doing some menial tasks—helping out the lower ranks, sorting through prayers, dialoging with the saints, picking out which sports team is really favored by the Almighty. A little tip: don’t place any money on the Celtics this year, dig?” He took another swig from his glass. “What about you. What you been doing?”
Dee paused nursing his beer. “Working overtime. Suzette quit. I’m looking for a replacement.”
“Really? Can I put in an application? I recently lost my position”
“You got any references?” A smile flitted across Dee’s face. “Ah, screw it, when can you start?”
A stilted fist bit between them proved they clearly didn’t give a damn if people thought they looked like meatheads.
“Soon as I’m let go from my current position, I’m all yours,” Ramiel joked back.
Something about the way he said it, the tone, made Dee wonder if he was being sincere. “You got reassigned already? That was quick.”
Ramiel’s head shook. “No, still technically your overseer. Wish my replacement would hightail it home so he can be debriefed and take over my shifts. Not that there’s been any demon activity out of the ordinary, low hum to report. Nope, evil seems to have taken the holiday off. Been quiet all up and down the East Coast for a while.”
That hadn’t even occurred to Dee, but now that he looked at it, it was true. In a typical week, there was usually at least some sort of disturbance they considered following up on, but nothing had been on the schedule since the by-chance demon horde field trip crew they’d encountered when Riona had run away.
“Maybe rumor got around that Michael was back. I understand he was one pretty badass mother once. Everyone upstairs happy to have the prince back on the throne?”
Finishing off another glass, Ramiel raked the sleeve of a suit that would have cost a human a pretty penny. “Larry’s had the streamers prepped and bubbly on ice since I told them, but Mr. Big Shot must be waiting to make an entry. He still hasn’t checked in.”
“But he told Riona he had to attend to his angelic duties. He’s been gone for two days. He hasn’t appeared in Heaven yet?”
As though starting to realize the tone in Dee’s voice had bumped up three levels, Ramiel kicked into an introspective mask of contemplation. “No, not a peep. Not even a postcard.”
“Postcard?” Dee asked as a flushed Jerry stepped into their circle.
“Yeah, postcard,” Ramiel confirmed. “Big Boss sometimes wants to send messages out, and he uses postcards. Michael thought it was a cute idea, so he followed suit. Wait, you’r
e telling me that Michael told you he was going to be checking in with Heaven, then didn’t? As in, he lied?”
Dee muttered confusedly, “Archangels can’t tell lies.”
“Not if they’re in good standing,” Jerry confirmed. “But one who is fallen, or more appropriately, falling can.” He looked back and forth between the be-muscled men. “Where’s Riona? I have to get her out of here now.”
Ramiel’s eyes carried to the other side of the club, and to a set of stairs that ascended to a white-washed door. “I saw her go up there, about fifteen minutes ago.”
Chapter 35
Never would Jerry have thought losing his connection with hellfire and being completely mortal could be a bad thing. As he willed his feet to carry him up the stairs at a speed a human body could never achieve, he felt intimately just how much that transition had cost him.
The door, of course, was locked, but what was the point of magic if not to open doors? He knew the ruckus of his screams in a lost medieval Scandinavian tongue was drawing the eyes of his guests below. His profanity-laced outburst was the least of their problems. The laymen below were about to get a crash course in the existence of the supernatural world. Right now, Jerry couldn’t care less if a squadron of imps popped in, French kissed all the women, and rode around on the men like camels. He wasn’t going to pull out any stops on getting to Riona ASAP.
“Everyone out!” Dee bellowed behind in a booming tone that left one with no doubts of his superior genes. His voice filled the confines of the club, as spacious as it was. “Someone just phoned in a bomb threat. Evacuate!”
Jerry didn’t know if Dee was aware he wasn’t just whistling Dixie on that. Jerry was that bomb, and if he didn’t get to the bottom of this fast, he was going to go off. He exploded through the office door when at last it yielded to his demands, the demigod and the angel on his tail. Gone was the polished interior he had seen last time he was here. In place of the minimalist but refined furniture that reflected Persephone’s exquisite taste was fog: thick, blinding, and scented with sulfur.
Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) Page 26
