by C. L. Coffey
“No,” I said, before shaking my head. “I mean, yes, but I need to see Ty first.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laying Blame
Ty was already waiting for me in the coffee shop. Judging from the full cup of coffee that looked like it had long since gone cold, he had been waiting a while, even though I was early. He stood up as soon as he saw me, but hesitated when he spotted Joshua behind me. He focused his attention back on me, frowning. “You look like crap,” he announced.
“Yes, that tends to happen when someone breaks into your home, kills someone and then attempts to kill you,” I said, dryly.
I was surprised to find I felt relief when Ty jerked back, disbelief and horror clouding his eyes. “Who?”
I sat down while Joshua grabbed a chair from a nearby table and dragged it over, his eyes never leaving Ty. “That’s what we would like to know.”
“I had nothing to do with this!” Ty exclaimed.
I held my hand up. “I believe you. At first I thought it was Lucifer.”
Ty shifted in his seat at the mention of his name, but continued to meet our eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when a waitress joined our table. While he replaced his cold coffee, I ordered lemonade. Joshua requested a coffee, but also ordered a large slice of pecan pie. We sat in an uneasy silence as we waited for the waitress to return. The coffee shop was empty other than us, and none of us wanted to have to pause the conversation again.
As predicted, she returned with our orders moments later. Joshua instantly slid the pie in my direction. I shot him a questioning look. “You’ll feel better when you eat it,” he responded, handing me the spoon.
“You don’t think it’s Lucifer?” Ty asked, distracting me.
I set the spoon down on the table. “Actually, I think it’s Beelzebub.”
Ty winced. “Please don’t call him that.”
“It’s your father’s real name,” Joshua pointed out.
“What makes you think it’s…” he frowned. “Him?” Ty asked me, choosing to ignore Joshua and fixing his steely gray eyes on me.
“The last I heard, Lucifer was returning to New Orleans because he wanted to see me.” I raised a shoulder. “Does that sound like someone who would then try to kill me?”
“I’d say that if it were anyone other than Lucifer, then maybe.” His eyes narrowed, his lips thinning into a straight line. “He’s coming back?”
“You didn’t know?” Joshua asked. I could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“No!” Ty snapped. Apparently, so could he. We settled back into an uneasy silence, regarding each other like someone was going to provoke another attack. “That’s not why you wanted to see me, is it?”
“I want to look you in the eyes when I ask you if you know where Eugene is.” I folded my arms, resting them on the table as I leaned forward to watch him.
His face screwed up in confusion. “Eugene? I don’t even know who Eugene is, much less where he is.”
“He’s one of the angels in the convent and he’s currently missing,” I told him, surprising myself at how calm I could remain.
Ty slowly shook his head. “Why would I know?”
“Because another two nephilim have been killed and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had decided to take matters into your own hands.” I continued to observe Ty’s reaction, once more feeling the relief when his scowl fell from his face to be replaced with shock.
“Who?”
“Jenna Hill and Jasmine Razen,” Joshua supplied. He had scanned the email when it had come through from Henry.
Ty sucked in a sharp intake of breath and looked away. There was no mistaking the pain. Just like that, I felt like an ass. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“I thought you were different,” Ty said, getting to his feet. He kept his gaze on the floor, his head shaking as he threw a few bills on the table next to his untouched mug of coffee. “I thought you were the first angel who wouldn’t judge me on my father’s actions. I was wrong. You’ve been desperately trying to blame all the wrong you can on me, with no evidence.”
I stared down at my pie as he stormed off. It too was untouched, and given the fact my stomach felt like it was inside of a washing machine, I wasn’t about to touch it. “I’ll be right back,” I told Joshua, my chair squealing as it scraped when I pushed it back. I charged out of the shop after Ty. “I’m being a bitch!” I yelled after him. That earned a few stares from passersby. Ty stopped, but he didn’t turn around. I took that as a promising sign and ran over to him. His arms were folded, and he glowered down at me, but he couldn’t hide the hurt from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I told him, meaning it. “I had no right to break that news to you like that. It was a horrible and inconsiderate thing to do. I’m sorry.”
“Jasmine is – was – my friend,” he told me. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, and he tried to brush them away with the back of his fists before I could notice them.
I didn't say anything. Instead, I reached over, clutching his upper arm. “I’m still working on trying to find out who is doing it.”
“It didn’t sound like it.” He jerked his arm free and glowered at me. “It sounds like you think we deserve this because we’re out killing your kind off.”
“That’s not….” I trailed off. It did sound like that. “I really am sorry, Ty. Someone killed a potential in our home, and all I want to do is find the son of a bitch behind it and kill him. If that’s how pissed off I am, I figured one of the nephilim would feel the same way too.”
“We do,” Ty said, shortly.
I stepped back in surprise. “You do?”
“Of course we do,” he shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re out there doing it.” He let out a long sigh. “Well, I can’t speak for all of the nephilim.” He looked around, as though remembering we were standing in the middle of the street, and sighed again. He took a step closer. “There are some nephilim who are loyal to my father.”
“You think one of them took Eugene?” I asked, hesitantly.
Ty pursed his lips, considering it, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what my father is up to these days. I’m not entirely sure he trusts me. But, I just don’t see how killing a random angel would benefit him.”
I made some spluttering noise in the back of my throat before shooting Ty a look of disbelief. “We defeated Asmodeus and stopped whatever scheme he was running at the Port. I can see how revenge would be high up there.”
“I guess,” Ty muttered, refusing to meet my eyes again.
“The other option is that someone found out about that list you gave me,” I blurted out. “Did you tell anyone?”
When Ty looked at me this time, his eyes were full of disgust. “I took a huge chance giving you that list. I’ve not told anyone. It would be more likely to get me killed. Besides, wouldn’t a list like that be something you angels would kill for?” He half turned, and then paused. “Maybe you should stay away from me for a while.” Then he walked off, not waiting for a response from me.
I didn’t have one. Part of me thought he was right.
I started to walk back to the coffee shop, but paused when I found Joshua waiting for me in the doorway, a large brown bag in his hand. Hidden under the shade from the veranda above, his navy colored eyes were almost black, but they never left my face as I joined him. “Everything okay?” he asked me.
I raised an elbow for a half shrug. “Not really. I’m not sure how to make it all okay, either.”
He reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “One thing at a time.”
We walked back to his car and then drove in silence, listening to the radio. Or rather, he sang along to some of the country songs he favored and I listened to him. I read in a magazine once, that one of the most relaxing things was listening to a cat purr. That writer had clearly never heard Joshua sing.
He surprised me by heading back to his apartment, rather than the precinct, but since we
were parked out front, I figured it made more sense. Here, there would be no one around to see what we were doing. I followed him up to his apartment on the second floor, where we were greeted by his enormous white cat, Dave. “You go get comfortable,” Joshua told me as Dave wound through my legs. “I need to see to him first.”
I took a seat on the couch, Dave jumping onto my lap moments later. He circled a few times, before settling down; deep throaty purrs escaping him like he had a diesel engine hidden in him. Okay, so maybe the purring was as relaxing as Joshua singing. With lazy strokes, I ran my hand through his fur, watching Joshua as he topped up Dave’s water fountains (this cat was spoiled) and added more dry food to the food dispenser which looked like it was designed for a dog. Joshua disappeared into the small utility area, and reemerged some time later with a bag of used cat litter. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered, before heading outside.
I liked Joshua’s apartment. It was very masculine, with black wood and glass furniture, but it was also homely. One wall was floor to ceiling shelves, all the books neatly lined up in alphabetical order. That always amused me. I was sure his desk at the precinct needed to be quarantined, but his house was immaculate. Well, apart from all the hair Dave was shedding everywhere. My gaze settled on one of the photos that were interspersed amongst the books. It was one of Joshua, probably college-age, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts, laughing as he lay on the ground. Above him, his sister, Bethany, wearing a bikini top and a pair of shorts, was armed with a water pistol, a stream of water from her gun hitting the side of Joshua’s head. It looked like neither of them knew their photo was being taken and I loved it.
When he came back in, he went straight for the kitchen and washed his hands. And then he turned his attention to the large brown bag he had carried up. I had no idea how hungry I was until Joshua pulled a out po’boy (shrimp, judging from the blob that fell onto the brown paper) and set it on a plate. My stomach let out a grumble which had Joshua frowning. He opened a bag of potato chips and shared them between the two plates before joining me on the couch.
Greedily, I snatched the plate from him and took a huge bite. I had devoured half of it before I realized that Joshua had only taken a few bites of his own and was instead watching me eat. With my mouth full of food, I caught his eye and arched an eyebrow. He set his plate on the coffee table with a sigh. “I know you’ve got a whole heap of problems to deal with, but you need to eat. It’s obvious when you haven’t.”
I swallowed the food. “I eat quickly,” I protested.
“I’m not commenting on how fast you eat your food. I’ve had enough ex’s who picked at their food like a bird. You having an appetite is a refreshing change. What I don’t like is that you’re not taking care of yourself.”
“I am!” I objected.
“You’re not,” he said, his brow furrowing in anger. “You’re trying to take care of everyone but yourself. Sometimes you need to put yourself first.” He looked away.
I followed his eyes and found he was staring at the photograph I had been studying. Bethany had died during Katrina. She had gone back into the city to check on a pregnant woman and had never come back out. The half po’boy in my stomach sat there heavily. “I’m not your sister,” I said, softly.
Joshua’s eyes smoldered as they flicked back to me. “Darlin’, given the regular thoughts I have running through my head involving you, it’s a good thing you’re not my sister.” The lead weight of the po’boy transformed into butterflies from the heat in his gaze. “Finish up your sandwich.”
I did as he requested, but only because I was still hungry. I appreciated his concern, and he was right. Bethany’s focus had been on helping someone else, instead of making sure she was okay first. I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t do the same thing, but I could help myself in the process.
I finished my sandwich before Joshua and shifted Dave so I could take both of our plates and load them in the dishwasher. When I returned to the couch, Joshua had his iPad out and had loaded up the first file. I curled up under his arm and together we started reading through the files. He was quicker than I was, but would wait patiently for me to catch up, and would also answer the questions I had.
By early afternoon, I had a bad feeling forming in my stomach.
I got up and stretched my back out, frowning. “It’s like with Lilah: they’re using angelic weapons.”
“You think it’s the angels doing it?” Joshua asked. I wrapped my hands around my neck and started pacing. “Or the Fallen?”
I didn’t answer. Instead I chewed on my lip. I had my suspicions, but voicing it would be… I stopped pacing. I was facing the door, not Joshua, but I closed my eyes anyway. “I cannot see how killing the nephilim would benefit the Fallen.” I finally admitted. “Maybe one or two nephilim, if maybe they did something to annoy Beelzebub. We’re up to seven dead.”
“Which leaves the angels or a really big coincidence,” Joshua surmised.
His voice was closer than I expected and I turned around, finding him towering over me, concern radiating from him. “I think it’s the cherubim,” I blurted out. “I think they think they’re doing the right thing. Maybe they are?” I shrugged. “I’ve had my wings for all of four months, what do I know?”
“I think that you see things clearer than they do, without centuries of prejudice.” Joshua gently gripped my wrists to tug them free of the grip on my neck.
“Maybe it’s just naivety.” I was feeling so lost right now that maybe I didn’t know what the right thing was to do.
“I think that I should take you back to the convent,” Joshua suggested, his gentle tone breaking me from my thoughts. “I think that you should grab a shower and maybe a nap; then get all dolled up for this ball tonight.” His lips curled up in the corners. “Or come out wearing what you’re in now? Either way, I think you need to give yourself a break; even if it’s just a short one. Hell, I can drop you off at your aunt’s for the evening if you’d prefer?”
I hadn’t spoken to my aunt for days. While the idea of visiting her did appeal to me, I caught the nervousness in Joshua’s eyes as he had suggested it. I’d not realized it until now, but he really wanted to go to this Ball with me.
Equally as importantly, I realized I really wanted to go with him too.
“Nope,” I told him. “If I go to Sarah’s I’ll never get ready in time. But can we make a detour on the way?”
Joshua broke out a bright grin. “Wherever you need, darlin’.”
* * *
Although I’d showered before I left the convent earlier, I had been going through the motions. Now, I stood under the shower head, enjoying the hot water as it rained down on me. Joshua had dropped me off at the convent with a promise he’d pick me up a few hours later.
I’d been greeted by two armed men at the front door that had refused to let me in until I had taken hold of a pen and signed a clipboard. It was clever: I knew as soon as I saw the silver object that the pen was made from platinum. Tomorrow I was going to sit down with Cupid and Darell and work out exactly what was going to happen at the convent. Tomorrow.
Tonight, I was going to do exactly what Joshua suggested, and have a night away from the convent and have a break – without feeling guilty about it.
That was why I was enjoying the shower. I probably relaxed myself too much… Once wrapped up in fluffy towels, I perched on the edge of the bed. Darell had done as he had promised and not only overseen the forensic retrieval of the sword that had impaled my mattress, but he’d also seen to it that the bed had been replaced. I was seated on a new mattress and bedding – none of which smelled like smoke. I realized I wasn’t just tired. I was exhausted.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had no idea how Michael had managed this for centuries. As my eyes began to droop I allowed the sleep to come. I had plenty of time before Joshua was returning – I could fit that nap in he had suggested.
I regretted that decision almost inst
antly. Thinking about Michael had only taken me back to one of my memories with him. Before he had died, Michael had started taking me to various locations around Paris. He’d been teaching me more about the angels in a practical way – through examples – but he’d also worked it so I could tour the City of Love. I’d never been before, so I hadn’t questioned it and had been completely oblivious to the fact this was his way of showing his interest in me.
Currently, we were back in the Louvre. I had wanted to see what the fuss was with the Mona Lisa, but I’d never really found out. We’d gone while the museum was open, and consequently, there was a crowd around the picture. I hadn’t realized it was so small, hidden behind a plate of glass that was probably as thick as the picture was wide.
Even now, as I sat on a bench, I was watching the memory of me trying to edge through the crowds. Michael had been close behind, but had already seen it. Hell, he was probably chatting with da Vinci when he’d painted it.
Which was when my dream went weird and I conjured up another version of him. This version of Michael sat down beside me. I groaned. “I need to see a therapist.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Secret Behind the Smile
“You seem to be saying that a lot,” the Michael beside me stated.
His voice was so quiet, that I was only just able to make out what he had said. “Just a moment.” My memory was pretty impressive. I’d remembered the level of noise there was in the museum – for the most part it was quiet, but as we’d gathered around the Mona Lisa, that had increased. I focused my attention on that noise, and it subsided, one voice at a time. Once it was quiet I turned back to Michael. “You were saying? Or I was saying?”
