Sealed in Sin

by Juliette Cross

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced down at the book in my hand. “Interesting reading material.”

  I snapped it shut and stuffed it between my hip and the seat, determined not to be embarrassed by my late-night airplane reading. “Not really. Just something I picked up.” I cleared my throat. “What—what are you doing here?”

  “Checking on you. The display at the airport had me worried about you. Are you okay?”

  “You were there?” I hadn’t sensed him. “I felt the presence of demons, but not you.”

  “There were a few in Bamal’s service present.” His face tightened into grim lines. “And now they know you’re traveling unprotected.”

  I smiled. “But I’m not.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” I didn’t have the strength to explain the farce he witnessed in the airport.

  He leaned close, the overhead light casting his face in half-shadow. I glanced down, feeling his fingers lace through mine on my lap. Whoa.

  “I am here, Genevieve. I will always be here for you.”

  My pulse raced ahead. “Thomas, I don’t think—”

  “Listen to me.” His whispered words sounded dire, drawing my full attention. “There is only one thing that could protect you no matter where you are, and you know this.” His eyes shined in the dark, an otherworldly glow holding me captive. My VS hummed as his signature grew stronger, lapping cool waves over my body. “Name that power, Genevieve.”

  I didn’t need to even think about it. “The power to sift to safety.”

  “Yes.” His mouth tipped up on one side. “And I can give you that power. You need only say the word.”

  How had it never occurred to me? Thomas was an angel. He had the power I needed, the one denied to me as the Vessel of Light by other angels too busy preparing for the Great War.

  My gaze dropped to his lips, knowing power is transferred through a kiss. His free hand came up, his palm flattened against my neck under my jaw, fingers curving along my nape. “Do you want it, Genevieve?” He leaned close to my ear. The light above us snapped off, hiding us in the dark. “Say yes, and I’ll share my power with you.” His lips brushed my jaw. “I’ll part with it willingly for you.” Another soft kiss and another in a line closer to my mouth. My chest rose and fell in quick breaths, my mind a numb haze. I gripped his wrist to push him away, but I didn’t. His lips brushed against mine as he said, “Tell me you want it. Now. And it’s yours.”

  An alarm rang in my head. I shook myself mentally and pulled his hand away from my face.

  “Thomas—” My voice shook. From what? Anxiety? Desire? No, this wasn’t right. “I appreciate the offer, but I…I don’t know.”

  He backed away, face still serene as always. I’d allowed George to kiss me and give me the power of protection against Danté. I hadn’t hesitated. Not with Jude standing there as witness. But this, with Thomas, it felt like betrayal.

  He recognized the look of fear in my eyes. “Not now, then.” Raising my hand still twined in his, he turned my hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist, lingering too long. “When you’re ready.” Within a blink, he was gone.

  I stared at the empty seat, the smell of snow-covered pines floating in his wake. I needed that power.

  “Damn it, Genevieve,” I muttered. I touched my jaw where he’d kissed me. Where I’d let him kiss me. I cursed under my breath, twisting in my seat, my hip obstructed by the book. I pulled the romance novel from its little hiding place and glanced at the cover—a pirate on deck with long hair billowing, staring down at his lady love, pouty lips parted, full cleavage heaving. I remembered the way Thomas had looked at me just now, not far off from the dark gaze of a lusty pirate.

  No more Captain Sparr and his damsel in distress tonight.

  I tossed the book aside and closed my eyes, willing myself to forget the passionate plea in Thomas’s words and the promise of his power…and something more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “OMG! Would you look at this view?”

  We stood at the window, gazing down at Central Park from our suite at the top of The Plaza. Last night, we’d been too exhausted to do anything other than collapse into bed.

  Mindy’s mom squeezed in between us and wrapped her arms around our waists. “The Edwardian Suite. Only the best for my girls.”

  Mindy’s mom had become a substitute for my own in sixth grade when I’d first slept over at their house. Just as my dad had become a surrogate father for Mindy. Sure, Miss Donna had a revolving door of boyfriends lavishing gifts on Mindy to win favor with her mom. But my dad had been the one to love Mindy like his own. Just as Miss Donna had loved me.

  “Thank you, Miss Donna. This is incredible.” Even I couldn’t pretend to be immune to such luxury. She’d even ordered coffee and breakfast up to our rooms as a gentle wake-up call. I was more accustomed to getting myself going and grabbing a pop-tart before running out the door. Except when I crashed at Jude’s.

  Jude. My heart squeezed. I missed him already, especially after that horrendous scene in the airport yesterday. And the following scene in the airplane with Thomas and the almost-kiss. I knew the argument between Jude and me was all an act, but I needed to hold him, reassure myself that everything was okay.

  Mindy squealed and bounded toward the bathroom, completely uninhibited in typical Mindy fashion. I waltzed through the sitting room into the bedroom, just as impressed, but not expressing my admiration quite so verbally. I marveled at the two massive beds with gilded headboards curling in Louis XV style. Both were covered in cream-colored damask coverlets. Each desk, chair, wall, painting reeked of the 17th century. My mind drifted, wondering what Jude had looked like in that time of powdered wigs, lace shirts and silky cravats. An impossible image to conjure. Jude would’ve lived outside society circles as an anonymous merchant of some sort. Definitely no powdered wigs and frilly lace cravats for him.

  The vision my VS had given me of him as a Celtic warrior flashed to mind—a man of strength, power and rage. That had been before he became a Dominus Daemonum. I trailed a finger along the Rococo-style desk, wondering for the thousandth time how and why he had become a Master of Demons. He was the first. What happened? What did he do to bear the burden of an eternal hunt for the damned?

  “Eeeeeeeee!”

  I whirled, my heartbeat skittering ahead. Mindy popped her head out of the bathroom.

  “I’ve never seen so much marble in all my life! I’m never leaving this bathroom.” She slammed the door.

  “Oh, yes you are,” her mother called through the closed door. “We have to be in the lobby in one hour. Otherwise, we’ll never find a decent spot along the parade route.”

  The bathroom door clicked open. “Already? It’s so early.”

  “Honestly, we’ll be lucky if we get close to the barricade as it is.” She laughed at Mindy’s scrunched-up face as she headed back through the sitting room. “I’ll see you two downstairs in one hour. On the dot, Amanda Alexandra.” She’d used her full name. She was serious.

  “Yes, Mom,” she yelled from the bathroom.

  “We’ll be ready,” I assured her, bolting the lock. Not that it would help if a demon knew where my room was.

  My phone buzzed in my jacket. A text from Kat.

  Don’t worry. Dorian is watching the lobby. I’m watching your hall. We’ll follow to the parade.

  She must’ve been reading my mind. Kat had to stay out of sight, because Mindy would wonder how my dad’s new instructor at the dojo—which was our excuse for us spending so much time together—happened to be in New York the same time we were. I typed a quick response.

  Me: Thanks. Sorry you’re on babysitting duty.

  Kat: All good. You can relax.

  I hadn’t had time to tell Kat that Thomas had popped up again on the plane. Mainly, I didn’t want to get the third degree about how or why my guardian angel was suddenly making himself so visible. I was begi
nning to believe Thomas had designs of his own—not sinister ones, but sensual ones. The way he looked at me when he offered me the power to sift, something I’d wanted ever since I realized it was the safest and easiest way to escape demons if I couldn’t fight them off. I needed that power. But Thomas’s magnetic pull, a physical yanking on my senses, warned me that taking what he offered could have repercussions. I already knew that George giving me the power to prevent any demon from soul-sifting me into hell came with a few kinks—visions of George’s past. What would happen if I tied myself to this alluring angel? Every time my conscience alerted me of possible danger, I thought of how having the power to sift outweighed the possibility of visions by an angel.

  I stared down at the city below. Relax? I’d never relax. I hadn’t been able to relax since the night of my twentieth birthday. I’d always be looking over my shoulder. I’d always fear the demon coming I couldn’t see. If I had the power to sift, to get away no matter who had me trapped in a corner, I might be able to relax.

  Thomas’s invitation echoed in my mind. It was just one little kiss. Right?

  An hour later, we stood in the lobby, waiting for our ride. No demons or hunters anywhere. All quiet.

  “I know, Dad.” I’d been on the phone with him for ten minutes, listening to him remind me how my mother was watching and smiling right now, how she’d always wanted to take me to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. “I just wish you were here.” This being our first Thanksgiving apart, I tried not to let the guilt hit me too hard.

  “Don’t worry about me. Erik’s coming over for dinner and football. You just bundle up and keep warm. I’ll see you when you get back. You still bringing this new boyfriend over?”

  To hear my dad refer to Jude as a boyfriend sounded silly somehow. I’d delayed the meeting of the two men in my life long enough, figuring my welcome-home dinner was as good a time as any.

  “Yes, I’m bringing him. Please don’t try to scare him off.” I was more worried about Jude scaring my dad, but I’d never tell him that.

  Mindy pulled on my sleeve and nodded to the lobby door, mouthing our car is here.

  “I’ve gotta go, Dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetheart.”

  I shoved the phone in the pocket of my red peacoat and stepped into the crisp cold morning, a twinge of excitement thrumming in my veins. Wisps of snow swirled on the pavement from a gusty wind.

  Actually going to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as opposed to watching the floats bob across the television screen made me almost as giddy as Mindy. The only problem was I could never let my guard down.

  “Hurry, girls.”

  We slid into the town car Mr. Bridges had sent for us. He’d opted out of the parade and the crowds, preferring to meet us for a quiet dinner later. After fighting through traffic and taking a roundabout route as close to the barricades as the driver could get, we hopped out and walked the rest of the way down 42nd Street to the parade route on 6th Avenue.

  I smiled as a family sang “Jingle Bells” in front of us all the way to the barricades. The dad had a three-year-old on his shoulders. The mom had a little girl on her hip and a boy at her side. My heart twisted at the sweet sight of them, wondering if I’d ever have a child, a family of my own.

  When we finally made it to 6th Avenue, we squeezed into the first spot with a space for us to stand. A cute couple snuggled close against the barricade on one side of us, sneaking a kiss when they thought no one was looking. The older of the “Jingle Bells” boys popped onto the barricade next to me on the other side. His SpongeBob skull cap and bright yellow jacket nearly blinded me.

  “You like SpongeBob, do ya?” I asked.

  “What? Hey, how’d you know?”

  I laughed, pointing to his head.

  He smiled back, both his front teeth missing. “Yeah. My mom doesn’t want to lose me in the crowd.”

  “I don’t think she will.”

  His mother hiked the toddler higher on her hip. She glanced my way. Realizing I wasn’t a threat to her son, she yelled over the first band marching down the street. “I hope he’s not bothering you. He’s a chatterbox.”

  “Not at all.”

  Mindy leaned over the railing and shouted to him, “Hey! I love your SpongeBob hat, but Patrick is my favorite.”

  The boy’s brown eyes widened to saucers. “You like SpongeBob? You’re kinda old for cartoons.”

  Mindy batted the yellow pom-pom on the top of his cap. “Pffft. No one’s ever too old for SpongeBob.”

  He grinned his toothy grin and shot out his hand for her to shake. “My name’s Samuel.” He shook Mindy’s hand, then mine. My heart lightened. Such innocence and joy. Felt like forever since I’d felt this way.

  Cheering erupted as the first float rounded the bend. Above the crowds, a giant Mickey Mouse headed our way with Donald Duck right behind him. There must’ve been a hundred handlers keeping each float in check. A gray sky hovered above us. Gusty winds pushed up the avenue. Samuel’s pom-pom kept bobbing on his head.

  Catching myself, I glanced up and down the barricades, reaching out with my VS. The definite ripple of Flamma flitted on and off my radar. A high school band glittering in red and gold marched by playing a booming version of “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town”. When the percussions passed, the vibration went right through my chest.

  “Whoohoo! Look, it’s Snoopy!” Mindy bounced in place, clapping her gloved hands together. Samuel clapped with her. Hands on the barricade, I watched the white behemoth draw closer, a needles-under-my-skin sensation jarring my former happy state. I’d enjoyed the parade for about ten minutes before the prickling presence of Flamma became unbearable.

  I reached out with my VS, breaking through their cast of illusion. More than a dozen were handlers for the Snoopy float. One of them glanced at me, red eyes gleaming, smile tilted with wicked intent. A sharper signature rippled over my skin. A familiar blond head bobbed above the throng to my right, weaving through the masses along the barricades, coming closer. Razor.

  I jerked out my phone and texted Kat. Demons. Razor too.

  Across the street, Dorian leapt the barricade about five yards from the first line of Snoopy handlers. The demon I’d pegged first saw him and shouted, “Now!”

  Close to twenty handlers tossed their ropes in the air and tackled others to the ground, making them lose their grip. A great gust of wind dipped the giant float in an arc. A black nose the size of a tire tilted quickly toward me and the throng of people. Miss Donna grabbed Mindy and pulled her to the ground, shouting my name. “Genevieve. Get down!”

  I couldn’t. That was exactly what they wanted, what they planned. To have me immobile long enough to reach me and drag me wherever they wanted.

  “Samuel!” screamed his mother.

  Still on the barricade, Samuel watched in awe as the head of Snoopy swooped down at a dangerous speed. The other handlers still hanging on were being tossed by the wind and the demons wreaking havoc. I grabbed Samuel off the barricade and forced him to the ground. His dad was there, pulling his body underneath him.

  “Thank you,” his father panted.

  I nodded, then jumped and ran. The barricade fell with a rattling clang. The crowd poured everywhere like a river whose dam had broken. Knowing this was all a diversion to get to me, I ran in the opposite direction. Glancing back, I sucked in a breath and ran faster. Both Razor and Gorham were fast on my heels. Gorham’s grin sent a chill up my spine.

  Stay in the crowds.

  Heart hammering, I sped ahead, knowing if they got a hand on me, they’d drag me to somewhere private and to wherever Bamal waited. What they didn’t know was that this was exactly what we’d expected.

  A ripple of iron and fire wafted over my body like a soothing balm to my skin.

  “Jude.” I breathed his name on a sigh.

  I glanced right. He leapt the barricade across the street, heading straight toward Razor and Gorham. One sharp glance at me from black eye
s. He pointed in the direction I’d been going. “Keep moving.” A gruff command I could hardly hear over the chaos but which felt like a rough caress. I obeyed, running faster.

  The crowd thinned. I caught sight of Jude dragging Razor into an alley and saw the swing of a platinum-blond ponytail among the demons who’d been holding the float. Kat and Dorian must be onto those fools. No sign of Gorham anymore. Not good.

  “Shit.”

  I ran on, making sure to stick to the crowds. I wondered if the compulsion to obey the rules was enough to keep Gorham from snapping me out of this place right in the middle of 6th Avenue.

  Someone grabbed my arm in a tight grip. I gasped and jerked away, spinning to find Thomas holding on to me. His usually serene face pulled tight, darkening his features into a frightening expression.

  “Follow me. Now.”

  Dominance rippled off him like never before. He wasn’t the benevolent guardian but the powerful protector, ready to do battle. For me. I followed him. His hand slid down my arm and wrapped my hand in a viselike grip, leading me on at a quickening pace. We wove through the crowd, bumping people out of the way. I followed his gaze when he glanced behind us. Gorham closed in, grim jaw set, determined to catch his prey.

  “Thomas. Look.” A crowd of parade-goers blocked our path, all rubber-necking to see what happened with the float. The crowd’s mood switched from panic to curiosity the farther we moved away from the mayhem.

  “This way.” He pulled me to the left, veering down 42nd Street. There were a few people scattered about, but this definitely no longer constituted a crowd.

  “Thomas. He can sift me away here.”

  He turned and pulled me into a shallow alcove and into his arms. Strong arms held me tight against a hard chest. “So can I.” Within a blink, we stood on the steps of a church not far from the parade route. Muffled cries echoed down the empty street. I recognized the church, seeing the distinctly Gothic tympanum and door from the town car on the ride over this morning. Thomas kept me close, curved against his body, the scent of snow flooding my senses.