by L. A. Banks
“Get out of here, Wingate,” he shouted at her. “And stop dragging my ass out of bed at four o’clock in the morning. Learn to catch the bad guys at a decent hour!”
“Yes sir, Captain,” Sarai said, smiling. She strolled to her desk.
Jim Ford, her partner and best friend, had also been awakened in the middle of the night. He had news for her. He’d been interviewing Young’s parents while the Captain had been yelling at her. “That building you cornered him in?” he began. “Belongs to his parents. They own several abandoned buildings in the city.
“They’re waiting until property values go up and then they’re gonna make a bundle.”
This was disturbing news to Sarai. She could think of only one thing: “What if he’s used those other buildings as his killing grounds?” Frowning, she sat down in the swivel chair behind her desk, and threw her head back in exhaustion. “We’ve got to search every last one of those buildings.”
Jim panicked. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight,” Sarai said as if the answer were obvious.
“But there are three of them and only two of us,” Jim said.
“I’ll help out,” Serena Abraham, an African American officer in her early thirties, volunteered. Her desk was right next to Sarai’s and she was known for eavesdropping on their conversations, and vice versa. “I ain’t got nothin’ going on at the moment.”
“Okay,” Jim said, sounding skeptical. “I guess we could each grab a desk jockey to tag along with us for back-up.”
That’s how they found two more missing girls. One of whom hadn’t yet been reported missing by her family. Luckily, both were still alive, although they were suffering from dehydration and exposure. The buildings were not heated, and Young hadn’t taken as good care of them as he had Lauren Taylor.
As Sarai finally dragged herself home after being up for twenty-four hours, the news on every radio and TV station in Chicago was about the capture of John Michael Young, and the rescue of three of his victims.
She drove her bike too fast through the streets, heading to Rogers Park, Chicago’s most racially diverse neighborhood, where she shared an apartment with her husband of two years, Daniel. As a member of the House of Representatives, Daniel spent a lot of time in the nation’s capital. She didn’t expect him home until tomorrow night.
Rogers Park had some of the best vintage apartment buildings in the city. In the 30s many of the buildings near the lakefront were hotels. Folks from Chicago used to summer in Rogers Park. Today, those hotels were distinctive apartment buildings.
Sarai and Daniel Wingate’s building was a renovated grand hotel. Their unit had ten-foot ceilings, oak floors, and spacious rooms. Because they lived on the top floor, their walled terrace was open to the night sky.
Sarai found this very convenient when she had to fly home. She would lightly touch down on the terrace and enter the apartment through the French doors.
Tonight, though, she was enjoying the feel of the powerful Harley Davidson between her legs. The October air was cold but there were no ice crystals present in it. The cold didn’t bother her. Nephilim loved the cold, which was why there were so many of them in Chicago. That, and the tall buildings. They delighted in both.
Tall buildings were ideal for jumping off and catching an air current. It felt kind of like surfing, but without the water. As for the cold air, somewhere in the sense memory of the angel, a part of their genetic makeup, it reminded them of heaven.
If hell were hot, heaven was the direct opposite. Sarai, who was the offspring of two Nephilim, looked as if she was in her early twenties but was actually closer to one hundred and twenty. Nephilim lived an average of four hundred years, so their ability to change their appearance came in handy.
Since Sarai was married to a human, she had opted to age alongside him. She hoped they would enjoy a long life together. When he was in his eighties, she would appear to be in her seventies.
Her parents had frowned on her marrying a human. Not because they thought Nephilim were somehow superior to humans, but because Sarai would have to pretend to be something she was not 24/7.
It would be difficult, if not impossible, they warned, to lead a double life. When it came to marriage, Nephilim usually chose partners from their own group.
Nephilim were divided into two groups: The Sons of the Morning Star, who were loyal followers of Lucifer; and the Grigori, who were devoted to God. Sarai’s family was Grigori. Of course, since all of God’s creatures were given free will, it wasn’t unknown for a Grigori to cross over to the dark side.
Some years ago Sarai had had an unfortunate brush with the dark side but she’d managed to escape with her soul unscathed and had turned her life around.
All of this occupied her thoughts as she rode through the nearly deserted streets. A stop at a red light had her warily observing her surroundings. This would be an ideal place for someone to come out of the shadows, knock her over the head, and steal her bike right out from under her.
Human predators were not her enemies tonight, though. She felt a swish of air on her left cheek just before a pair of strong hands grasped her underneath the arms and lifted her into the night sky.
She didn’t struggle, knowing that a drop from this height, when she hadn’t had time to sprout wings, could cause severe injuries. It wouldn’t kill her. Only two things could kill a Nephilim and a fall from a great height wasn’t one of them. But she didn’t relish having to wait for broken bones to mend. Sure, they healed fairly swiftly, but she would be off her feet for a couple of days, and she had work to do. Now that Young was in custody, she was free to move on to another pedophile she had in her sights.
Her captor effortlessly held her in his arms as he rose straight up and then turned in the direction of the heart of Chicago, Uptown.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said smoothly, as if they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation and this was not the first time they’d seen each other in years.
Armaros, or Nighthawk as most Nephilim knew him.
Sarai didn’t have to look at him to remember his bold features. He had black, hooded eyes that could be as hard as obsidian one instant and as warm as molten lava the next.
Humans knew him as Nicolas Armaros, power-forward for the Bulls. He was a perfect specimen. Tall and muscular with a body honed in the gym and already a step above a human male’s anatomy due to his Nephilim genes.
His dark brown skin was smooth and unblemished except for the tattoos he was fond of. Sarai looked at his profile, the proud African nose, square chin and wide mouth with full lips. Lips whose feel she was very familiar with.
“If my bike is stolen there’s gonna be hell to pay!”
Nighthawk laughed. “Don’t worry. One of my men will take it to your place and park it in its usual spot.”
Sarai sighed. “What do you want, Armaros?”
“I want you. The question is, are you prepared to give yourself to me?”
“You know I’m married. Grigori mate for life. What you want is impossible for me to give you. And you know it!”
“Foolish girl,” he said in placating tones. “You married a human on the rebound. I admit I made a mistake. I can see that now. You and I should have married. Instead, I listened to my family and chose not to shame them with a mixed marriage.”
Mixed in the sense that he was a Son of the Morning Star, and she was a Grigori.
“No,” Sarai said, disagreeing. “I didn’t marry Daniel on the rebound. I met him, I fell in love with him, and I made a very wise decision to marry him.”
“An ex-boxer turned politician!” Nighthawk almost spat out the words. “He’s human. If you had married another Nephilim, then maybe you could be mated to him for life. But their lives are pitifully short. You’re cheating yourself. You can’t even tell him what you are. Humans never understand us. We’re freaks to them.”
“Really, Armaros,” Sarai said sarcastically. “It’s been eons. You should let go of the stigma att
ached to us because our ancestors were fallen angels. You have a choice.”
“We’re not dreamers like you Grigori,” Nighthawk said resignedly. “We know that the only thing waiting for us is hell. You believe God can change His mind and pardon you. We believe the sins of the fathers are visited upon the sons.”
“We have free will. If we do good, then we are good,” Sarai countered.
She felt Armaros’s arms tighten around her. She didn’t want to upset him while he was flying 10,000 feet above the ground.
“I didn’t snatch you off your bike to talk politics,” Nighthawk told her. “I want you. I can’t state it any plainer than that. Leave the human, and marry me.”
“You’d just as well drop me and then cut my head off,” Sarai said with conviction. “Because I’m never leaving Daniel.”
Nighthawk thought for a moment. “Grigori take fidelity to new heights. You’re probably the only sentient beings who do. He’ll disappoint you.”
“Daniel loves me. He may not be Grigori, but he has the heart of one.”
“I could rip his heart out and eat it,” Nighthawk threatened. He didn’t raise his voice. The softness of his tone made the threat all the more believable, and horrifying.
“If you harm one hair on his head, you’ll be in for a world of hurt!” Sarai said, and pushed out of his embrace. She fell like a stone, hurtling toward earth at such a velocity that it left her breathless.
She had to concentrate in order to quickly sprout wings. But she managed to remove her leather jacket and her blouse, grasping them tightly, and her wings began to grow, widen, lengthen, then finally sprang free, beating wildly to slow her descent.
Nighthawk flew beneath her and allowed her to stand on his back as she gained control. He could have allowed her to continue her headlong rush to meet the ground. But it wasn’t his intention to let her come to harm. He’d only wanted to set his proposition before her.
Sarai’s wings, the exact color of her midnight hair, and with a six-foot wingspan, were now bearing her weight. She rose straight into the air. Nighthawk followed.
“You’re still too impulsive. You could have hurt yourself,” he complained.
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “What could have possibly changed your mind about me after nearly three years? Why come after me now?”
“That’s simple,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “When I was a boy, I let others dictate my actions. I’m a man now. And I go after what I really want. I dream about you every night.”
It made Sarai’s skin crawl to hear him admit that. Unlike humans’ dreams which were random and not controlled by the dreamer, Nephilim had the power to choose what they wished to dream about.
“You’d better not have me doing anything nasty in them,” she said and she swiftly turned back in the direction they’d come.
She heard his laughter for a long time as she flew toward home. But he didn’t follow her this time.
Sarai landed on the terrace, found the potted plant under which they kept a spare key to the terrace door, opened the door, and went inside. She immediately heard the shower in the master bedroom, and uttered a curse. If Armaros were still up to his tricks and had broken into her home with the notion of seducing her, he was in for one hell of a disappointing night!
She rushed into the bathroom and pulled the shower stall door aside to reveal Daniel holding his smooth, bald head under the shower’s spray. He looked at her with his usual calm. Anyone else would have shown shock or surprise to have a crazy person yank open their shower stall door, but not him.
“Babe!” he said, grinning, happy to see her.
Still unconvinced it wasn’t Armaros posing as Daniel, Sarai looked closely at his back. There were no tattoo-like images of wings under the shoulder blades of his broad, dark brown back. She realized he must think she was behaving strangely, and forced a smile. “I can’t believe you’re home!” she cried. “You didn’t call, or anything.”
“When was the last time you checked your cell phone?” he asked, looking at her with a smile curving his full lips. “Get in here!”
It was true. She hadn’t checked her cell phone in a while. “I’ve been kinda busy catching a killer,” she said as she began peeling off her clothes.
“It was the first thing I heard about after we landed,” Daniel said, rinsing his head underneath the shower’s spray. “I’m so proud of you.”
When he said that, Sarai let go of the pent-up emotions that had been threatening to spill over all night long. Suddenly, she was trembling. Fear was not something she had the luxury of displaying in her line of work. She could not go into a house where a killer could be lurking and feel anything except confident that she would emerge the victor. Sharpness of intellect didn’t go hand in hand with abject cowardice. Even though fear was a human emotion and not part of the angelic range of emotions, as a Nephilim, Sarai was also part human and she went through all the attendant pains, failings and insecurities that humans experienced.
So, now, when she was alone with the person she loved most in the world, she felt safe enough to let go. “Daniel, it was a nightmare.”
Daniel turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall, onto the bath rug.
He pulled her into his arms. She was naked from the waist up and still wearing her boots and jeans. His body, wet and warm from the shower, was hard and utterly masculine. He was six-three to her five-ten and muscular with a broad chest, a flat belly, long well-built legs, and big hands and feet. He made her feel protected.
Cradling her in his arms, he said, “It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Let it out.”
Suddenly, words that she hadn’t been able to say, even to her partner, were coming out of her mouth. “I’ve never encountered such evil. I don’t believe we’ll ever find all of the bodies of the children he’s killed. I think what we discovered was just the tip of the iceberg. Those poor kids.” A sob tore from her, and she buried her face in his chest.
Daniel held her securely against him. “The important thing, right now, is that he’s been stopped. He won’t kill again.”
“I wish I had killed him!” She looked up at him, her dark eyes glittering with hatred. “You should have seen the two girls we found at the other buildings. They were hollow-eyed, nearly catatonic with fear and had lost all hope of being found. And one of them, poor kid, had the bad luck of being born to a drug addict. Her mother hadn’t even reported her missing and she’d been gone for four days. Four days, Daniel!”
She wept anew. She wept for that little girl. She wept for the state of the world and she wept for how useless she sometimes felt because no matter how much she did to eradicate the danger that pedophiles posed for children, she didn’t think she was doing enough.
It was that very sentiment that had led her to follow Young tonight. He’d been their suspect for weeks but they’d never been able to catch him with any evidence whatsoever. His circumspection was what had kept him from being caught. He left behind no evidence at the kidnapping sites. No DNA linking him to the girls was found on their bodies. They had nothing, except the belief that he was guilty. On her own, Sarai decided to follow him around the clock. Her Nephilim metabolism allowed her to forego sleep, so she never let up on him. From the apartment where he lived the good life with his rich, elderly parents, to the school where he worked with special needs children, to a bar after work where he didn’t drink any alcohol but played the pinball machine for three solid hours, then to a Chinese restaurant for something to eat.
Finally, he went home. His parents had gone to bed hours before. He stayed inside for a couple of hours, then got up and left the house again. That’s when Sarai had hit pay dirt.
After relating all of it to Daniel, she peered up at him and smiled. “Thank you. Talking to you always helps me put things in perspective. He’s off the streets and that’s what counts.”
Daniel smiled. “And you did scare the shit out of him. That was a little payback for all the fear
he’s caused his victims.”
“A little,” Sarai agreed, and tiptoed to kiss his mouth.
Daniel didn’t need further encouragement. He kissed her back, after which he helped her out of her boots, jeans and panties. In the shower together, now, they continued to kiss and fondle each other. Then, Daniel took control and began to gently wash her body with the soapy sponge, taking his time and enjoying every minute of it.
“God, I missed you so much,” he told her as he soaped her all over. “I’m definitely not going to seek reelection. Anything that takes me away from you is a bad thing.”
“Well, you have another year to think about it,” Sarai said softly. She didn’t want to talk about it right now. Having his hands on her body was all she wanted to think about. She wanted him inside of her with nothing separating them.
Because they were trying to have a baby they were not using any type of birth control. She had to admit: she liked having sex with him without using a condom.
Daniel set the sponge aside and used only his hands. They lingered on her nipples, making both of them instantly harden against his palms. He bent and took one of them in his mouth and suckled gently, but not too gently. Sarai sighed happily and reached down to grasp his long, hard, thick penis.
Her vagina was already wet, slick and throbbing. Daniel gingerly lifted her. The tile in the shower stall was not slippery. And the shower spray had washed away all the suds from the floor, so he was confident that picking her up in his arms wouldn’t result in both of them crashing through the shower stall door.
Besides, they were old hands at making love in the shower. She opened her legs and guided him to the mouth of her vagina where his engorged penis kissed her clitoris and made her convulse with pleasure. He pushed, her vaginal muscles contracted around him and, soon, he was inside of her.
He moved forward until her back was against the shower wall. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” she said, panting.
“You’re better than fine,” he said. “You’re beautiful.” And he thrust deeper, pumping her hard, just the way she liked it. His penis grew harder and thicker, filling her up.
