Whiskey and Angelfire

by A. A. Chamberlynn

  “What about you, kid?” I asked Scorch. “Where’d you get off to after the angels took us?”

  “I was around,” he said noncommittally, playing with the sugar packets on the table as if bored out of his mind. “I know a couple people in Dublin.”

  The waitress came back with my drink and the others placed their own orders. I took a tentative sip. It felt like drinking pure energy, a roller coaster and a lightning storm wrapped in a velvety cocoa finish. “Wow.”

  “Told you.” The waitress grinned and bounced off.

  “So, what made the angels jump off the deep end?” Donovan asked. “To get Michael involved—that’s some pretty heavy shit.”

  “This has been coming,” Riley said with a growl. “Ever since Evo. We should have known coming out was a mistake. Now we’re going to be hunted. Just another in a long line of violations against those that are different.”

  “Evo was the worst thing ever,” Scorch grumbled, his shoulders slumped.

  “Why do you say that?” Quinn asked.

  Scorch shrugged and didn’t answer.

  I looked over at Riley. “I agree with you. But I think it’s more than that, too. Michael getting involved seems... I don’t know, even being bigoted against other supes, he’s too high up the chain to participate in a simple raid on a shifter bar. Something else is going on.”

  “Any clue what it is?” Donovan asked.

  I mulled it over for a moment. “Not really. Only that my gut tells me Michael is personally invested in this.”

  “So, does this mean we aren’t going to see Eli again?” Scorch asked, his fingers drumming nervously on the tabletop. The kid just couldn’t hold still.

  “For now, I guess.” I tried to keep a neutral face as I processed that. I’d wanted to part ways with him myself, but now that it was happening, I felt… unsettled. It was probably a good thing, though. Attachments led to suffering. I’d learned that time and again.

  “But what about his favor to Pan?” Riley said. “He can’t pretend to be looking for Ambriel anymore when he isn’t really. He’s going to have to, which means he’s breaking his promise. And…” he trailed off.

  “And Pan will punish him,” I finished.

  The waitress came back with everyone else’s drinks and we sat and sipped in silence for a minute or so.

  Quinn spoke first, her voice meek as a mouse. “So, what are we going to do? Should we head back home? Regroup?”

  “Fuck no,” I spat. “I’ll be damned if anyone is going to chase me out of anywhere, let alone the place of my birth.”

  “You’re already damned,” Riley pointed out helpfully, and Scorch cracked a smile.

  “Bite me.”

  “Well, if we’re staying, first things first, we need a new place to stay,” Quinn said.

  “Off the grid for sure,” Riley added.

  Donovan laced his fingers through mine. “I think I know just the place.”

  “What a fine bunch of rebels we are,” I said with a sigh.

  “We learned from the best,” Riley chuckled.

  We finished our coffee, paid the waitress and headed back out into the streets. A fine mist had settled over everything, making the city look like a home for ghosts rather than creatures of flesh and blood. Sounds bounced between the buildings, muffled and muted. Bats squeaked overhead, looking for a late night snack.

  “We need to catch a ride,” Donovan said, looking left and right down the street.

  “Where are you taking us?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Somewhere we can lay low.”

  “Somewhere like…?”

  “Booterstown.”

  “No, I hate Booterstown,” I groaned. “It’s a backwoods dump.”

  “Remember, you haven’t been there for a while. Things have improved in the last hundred years.”

  “Who do you propose we stay with down there?”

  Donovan shot me a look.

  “No! I am not staying with that backstabbing old harpy!”

  “Oh, Magdalene?” Riley said with a grin. “Come on, Zy, she’s not that bad. For a harpy.”

  “She’ll probably murder us in our sleep,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Murder?” Scorch asked, raising a brow.

  “Not unless you really piss her off,” Donovan said.

  “So, try not to be a surly, punk-ass teenager and you’ll be fine,” I said to the kid, eliciting a dirty look from Quinn.

  “You’re one to talk about manners,” Scorch retorted.

  Riley let out a loud guffaw. “He’s got you there, Zy.”

  I glared at both of them.

  Quinn said, “If we pay Mags enough, she’ll house us and keep her mouth shut about it. I do think it’s better if we get out of the main part of the city.”

  I threw up my hands. “Fine. Gang up on me, you assholes.”

  Donovan grinned and walked to the next street corner, where he flagged down a cab. Quinn got in the front and the rest of us crammed into the backseat, which smelled like wet dog.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  “Booterstown,” I said with a groan.

  “And you won’t record this one in your logs,” Quinn said, sending a shot of magic at the cabbie when he reached forward to type the destination into his dashboard computer. He nodded, his eyes glazed over from her spell.

  About forty-five minutes later we stopped outside a run-down looking bayside bar. We paid the cabbie and got out. “You have no memory of us, or this trip,” Quinn said, shooting more spells at him.

  We made our way down the street and out of town before heading down a gravel road into a huge marsh. The air smelled of salt and dead crabs. Birds cried and warbled in tall grasses that swished around us as if alive. Eventually we came to a murky ribbon of water that led out into the darkness. A small wooden boat was tied there, and we climbed in. I sighed as mud got all over my boots.

  Donovan paddled us down a tributary until we came to a place where moss-laden trees arched over the water. Two yellow-eyed cranes sat overhead, and when we approached they dropped silently out of the trees and flew off ahead of us. Sentries of the harpy.

  “We’d better wait here, unless we want an unpleasant greeting,” Donovan said.

  A few minutes later two glowing yellow dots appeared in the distance. They grew bigger as they approached rather rapidly, and the sound of an oar slipping in and out of the water could be heard. An odd hunch-backed shape appeared out of the mist, a mere silhouette in the darkness. Two yellow eyes that looked like a cross between a hawk’s and a demon’s ran over the five of us.

  “I haven’t seen you lot in years,” Magdalene said, her voice reminiscent of fiddler crabs crawling over skulls. “I’m surprised you’re not dead yet.”

  “Not quite,” Donovan said with a chuckle.

  “And who is this young man?” the harpy asked, staring at Scorch. “Did one of you guys get knocked up and have a kid since last I saw you?”

  “Nah, he’s just a tagalong,” I said. “We’re looking for a place to stay.”

  “That means you’re in trouble. No one comes to Magdalene’s unless they have to. There are much nicer places to stay in Ireland.”

  “Quite true,” I said. All I could see were her creepy eyes and the general misshapen lump of her body.

  “I see your manners haven’t improved in the slightest, Zyan Star,” Magdalene said with a hiss, and Scorch shot me a triumphant look, which I ignored.

  “Did you expect them to?”

  “No, I didn’t at that.” The old thing cackled and her beak clacked together.

  “We’ll pay you for room, board, and silence,” Donovan said.

  “Silence is never cheap,” Magdalene croaked.

  “Indeed, you’ll be paid well.”

  “Fine, then, come on in out of the darkness.”

  She pivoted on whatever she was standing on and slipped through the water back the way she came. We followed, and before long tw
o lanterns appeared in the distance, burning with sickly green flame. Magdalene rowed toward them, up to a decrepit dock covered in streaks of black slime. I could see now she’d been balancing on an old log. She hopped off and her clawed feet tapped eerily against the wooden dock as she shuffled toward a haphazard structure beneath the mossy trees.

  We got out of the boat and followed her. A brown shawl covered her wings, and every few feet a dirty feather dropped out onto the ground. Luckily, the foul smell of the marsh covered her own lovely aroma. Harpies weren’t exactly known for having a pleasant smell. Magdalene led us through her dilapidated shack to adjoining rooms the size of large closets. Through the reed and thatch ceiling I caught a glimpse of the stars. I sure hoped it didn’t rain tonight.

  “Here you are. Home sweet home,” the harpy said with a wet laugh.

  Donovan pulled out a large stack of bills and handed it to her. She grabbed it with her beak rather than her hands and quickly tucked it away within her rags. “There’s some stew in the kitchen. Nothing for the soul sucker, though, I’m afraid.” She turned one yellow eye on me. “And don’t bother the other tenants. There’s a vampire down the hall and a pixie upstairs.”

  “We’ll keep to ourselves, Mags,” Riley said.

  Mags clacked her beak. “Always such a sweet young man, Riley. You fine young thing. You make this old girl wish she was a century younger. And also that you liked women,” she added with a sharp laugh.

  Riley blushed and stammered, but she was already shuffling off.

  “Looks like somebody could get our rent knocked down a few hundred dollars,” Quinn said, nudging him in the ribs.

  “Shut up,” he mumbled.

  Scorch laughed.

  “So what now?” Quinn asked.

  “Sleep,” I said. “Then tomorrow, we’re tracking down Anna. Since the angels have kicked us off the case, it’s time to see what Lucifer is up to.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Voices echo off marble hallways. Or are they cavern walls? I can’t tell, they change every few feet. I run, but my footsteps make no sound. Flames curl at the edges of my vision, and sulfur tickles my nose. Eli stands at the end of a hallway, facing away from me. I have to speak to him. He knows the answers. But as I race toward him, the hallways bend and stretch and I am always just as far from him as when I’d begun.

  Until suddenly he is right there before me, standing in front of a large stone archway. Mist swirls beyond the portal, but as I approach it clears and vast galaxies spin into view, shining and burning like diamonds. He is still turned away from me, his chiseled face staring off into the distance, his silken hair silver against the backdrop of the blackness beyond.

  “Eli?”

  He turns, those same petal pink lips, same violet eyes raging with emotion. But it isn’t Eli.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Zyan,” Lucifer says, and he stretches out his hand to me. “We have work to do.”

  My hand takes his of its own accord, and he kisses my fingers, sending a shiver of ice and fire down my chest. His eyes meet mine, lovely and terrifying, and then, still holding my hand, he turns my wrist and his eyes travel down the length of my arm. My demon mark glows fuchsia in the light of the stars.

  “Almost done,” he whispers, his voice a caress in intimate places.

  I jerked upright, gasping and clawing at the blankets.

  “What’s the matter?” Donovan asked, instantly awake.

  Shaking, I reached for the lantern next to the bed and tried to light it, but I kept dropping the matches. “Get the light,” I said, my voice trembling.

  A moment later the wick of the lantern hissed to life and warm light poured over us. I thrust my arm under it, turning it this way and that. About halfway up my forearm, a new rune was carved into my skin, an inch from the first one Lucifer had added a couple months ago. The spiral around my arm was longer, too. It hadn’t been my imagination.

  I bit back a sob, and Donovan stared at me, bewildered. “Zy?”

  “Don’t you see it?!” I shrieked. “He’s somehow finishing the mark. In my dreams. Lucifer, he’s—he’s almost completed his bond over me.”

  Donovan looked stricken, his eyes moving back and forth from my face to my arm, to the glowing pink skin, freshly cut. Footsteps sounded in the hall and a moment later Quinn and Riley burst into the room. Scorch stood behind them in the hall.

  Quinn’s eyes fell instantly on the mark. “Oh, shit,” she murmured.

  A shuffling, clicking sound announced Magdalene. “What’s all this racket about?”

  “Lucifer,” Riley said. That shut the old bird up.

  “He’s somehow marking me in my sleep,” I said, each word a struggle to get out. It felt as if my chest was being crushed, each breath a monumental effort.

  Magdalene grabbed my arm and turned it back and forth. “I might be able to get rid of it. No promises.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll try anything.”

  She nodded. “I won’t lie to you—this will hurt. A lot.”

  Without waiting for me to think about it, she pulled back her head and spit on my arm. Gobs of green goo coated my skin, sizzling like acid. I felt my skin dissolving where it touched, burning, searing, disintegrating. A scream tore from my lips and I thrashed backwards. Donovan grabbed me to keep me from crashing into the wall. I heard his own yell as a few drops of the goo spattered onto him, but I was trapped within my own maelstrom of pain. My vision blackened and for a moment I thought I would pass out, prayed I would pass out, but consciousness remained.

  An eternity seemed to pass, though it could have been thirty seconds. Finally, the pain began to abate to a tolerable level. I looked down at my arm. From elbow to wrist it was a raw, open wound, pocked with holes, the flesh vivid red and purple.

  “Is it gone?” Riley asked.

  It was difficult to tell through the wreckage of my flesh, but after examining my arm for several moments, I could see the lines of the spiral and the runes still. They glowed faintly as if activated by my attempt to destroy them.

  A collective sigh fell through the room.

  “Get my katana,” I said to Riley, jerking my head toward the chair by the bed where it hung.

  “Zy—you’re not—” Quinn stammered.

  “Yes, I am.” I closed my eyes, took a long, breath and reopened them. “I can’t let Lucifer complete the mark. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

  Riley stood motionless for a moment, then moved robotically for my sword.

  “Are you sure about this?” Donovan whispered in my ear.

  I nodded. “Help me up. I’m sure Mags doesn’t want blood over all her bed.”

  Outside in the hallway, Scorch’s eyes were as big as a full moon.

  “Just wait a minute here,” the harpy said. “As eager as you seem to dismember yourself, I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  “If even harpy spit doesn’t get rid of that thing, cutting off your arm won’t either. That mark is burned into your spirit, not just your body.” She pinned me with her strange eyes. “If it were that easy, all of Hell’s servants would be hacking off their limbs.”

  I made a snorting sound.

  “Not that anyone’s saying you’re not a total badass for being willing,” Riley said.

  Another sigh moved through the room, this time one of relief.

  “We’ll fight it some other way,” Donovan said.

  I could only nod, because if I did anything else I was going to get hysterical.

  “Here, let me start fixing you up.” Quinn stepped forward and ran a wash of magic over my arm, which instantly soothed some of the pain. The burn marks faded slightly. She looked up at Donovan. “You’d better bunk with Riley. This is going to take a while.”

  He nodded and carefully squeezed out from behind me on the bed. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Quinn can work on you first if you need it.”

  “Nah, I only got hit with a couple drops.” He force
d a smile and headed out into the hallway with Riley and Scorch.

  “Thanks, Mags,” I said.

  The old harpy just stared at me with her yellow eyes before shuffling silently out of the room.

  Quinn sent another wave of magic over my arm. “Don’t worry, Zy, we’ll figure this out.”

  I shivered. “I certainly hope so.”

  Quinn continued to work in silence for a couple minutes. Outside, birds called across the marsh and the wind susurrated through the grasses. “What does he want with me?” I asked. “What could I possibly have that he needs?”

  “You’re one awesome chick, Zyan Star,” Quinn said. “Heaven may be dumb enough to have turned away your help, but Lucifer isn’t.”

  “I never should have gotten involved with the HR,” I said, my stomach a lead balloon. “That’s what drew me into this mess. Caught Lucifer’s attention.”

  “Alexander started all that, not the HR,” Quinn said. “And he knew you’d be on his heels. Maybe it was their plan all along. Perhaps you drew the big guy’s attention before all that started a couple months ago.”

  We sat and mulled that over for a stretch. My skin was starting to look normal again. Well, normal being a relative term, since I had a huge demon mark spiraling around my forearm.

  “Plus, if you’d never started working for the HR, you never would’ve met Eli,” she added.

  I grunted. “That might be for the best.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I want to kill him half the time.”

  “Sometimes it’s the people that challenge us that are the best friends. That force us to grow in ways we didn’t imagine before.”

  “And sometimes they’re just annoying angels that piss you off.”

  Quinn sighed. “Aren’t you worried about him? What Michael’s up to?”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Of course.” I hadn’t stopped worrying about him since I’d seen Michael standing in that doorway. If that dude was one of Heaven’s finest, we were all in seriously deep shit. And Eli was stuck with him. Plus, Pan was going to be after him, I was forbidden to see him, and I had no idea what was going on and what to do about any of it.