by Elise Marion
She didn’t miss the sneer crossing his lips as he hurled the insult.
“What the hell do you want?” she asked. “Whatever it is, say your piece and leave. You might not be dead, but you’re dead to me.”
“Well, then, that leaves you with no one, don’t it? That’s what I came to tell you. It’s about your mama.”
Her pulse leapt and her blood raced in her veins. She could hear her own breath racing in and out of her lungs; yet, her chest burned, like she wasn’t breathing at all. She fought back tears, determined not to shed them in front of Buck.
“What about her?”
He flicked his cigarette into the alley, not even bothering to put it out, then shoved his hands into his pockets.
“She’s dead,” he said, with no more emotion than if he discussed the weather.
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
Yet, nothing made sense about this entire encounter. Buck was dead. She’d killed him herself, and her mother had helped cover it up. So how was he standing in front of her, talking, telling her that her mother had died? Maybe that was true, too.
He shrugged. “You ain’t got to, I guess. But you can get your ass over to Kindred. That’s where they took her when she collapsed. Guess all them years of drugs finally done her in.”
A growl burned low in her throat just before she lunged, her vision faded into blackness as the anger overcame her.
“Whoa there, cher,” Micah said, plucking her up with one arm like she weighed no more than a doll. He held her back even as she thrashed against him for freedom, wanting nothing more than to kill the bastard—for real, this time.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” she snarled, finally going still after realizing she had almost lost herself to the black rage. “Why would you come here? She wouldn’t have wanted you around, and I sure the hell don’t.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I got the call. Probably because she had me listed as next of kin and forgot to change it after …”
After I turned you into a pile of body parts?
“Anyway,” he said after trailing off a moment. “I’ll let you alone now. Just wanted you to know.”
He turned and strode back the way he’d come, the click of a lighter sounding in the dark as an orange flame flickered on the tip of a fresh smoke. Just before he turned the corner and disappeared down an alley, Micah faced her, his face a mask of horrified shock.
“Addison …” He shook his head, reaching toward her.
She recoiled, uncertain of his intent and all too aware of his size and the strength radiating from him like a tangible force. He reached out again, taking her arm in his hold and pulling her closer.
Alice gasped, her eyes wide as he reached into her shirt and fisted the chain around her neck. She glanced down as the ring appeared, dangling between them. She felt as if the world had tipped sideways on its axis, her head spinning dizzily as she stared numbly at the ring.
She’d been so shocked by Buck’s sudden appearance that she hadn’t even noticed the ring had been trying to tell her something. It glowed white—as it always did when one of Eligos’ minions came near.
The glow faded as Buck got further away, and Micah dropped it to land against her chest. His mouth became a hard line as he gazed down at her accusingly.
“When were you gonna tell me your stepdaddy was a freakin’ demon?”
“I didn’t know Buck was a demon,” Addison confessed, two hours later.
After encountering her stepfather on the street, they’d taken a taxi over to Kindred Hospital. Sure enough, a few inquiries had turned up Elizabeth Monroe—dead in the morgue. A heart attack caused by an overdose, said the doctor who’d attended her. Because of her weakened state due to years of drug abuse, she hadn’t stood a chance.
To Micah’s surprise, she hadn’t shed a single tear. She hadn’t screamed or sunk into a depression. She’d simply spoken with someone about making arrangements concerning Elizabeth’s body and left, taking him and Alice with her. No one had said a word on the way home.
Of course, now that they were here, explanations were in order. He sat in his usual chair, an untouched jar of moonshine beside him. He had called Reniel on the way to the hospital, and the angel had been waiting here for them.
“Well, that ring knew,” he replied, crossing one leg over the over, resting his ankle on his thigh.
“It makes sense, actually,” she said to Reniel.
She hadn’t so much as looked at him since he’d revealed the glowing ring to her. It bugged him more than it should have.
“My mama always did know how to pick them. Poor woman probably never knew she was a damn demon magnet.”
“Where do you think he’s been all this time?” Reniel asked. “You thought he was dead.”
Micah watched her closely, noticing the way she wrapped her arms around her middle as if fighting to contain something within. She shivered.
“Yeah, I did. I have no idea where he’s been. After … after that day, I never saw him again.”
He frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair. Her words held a double meaning.
“That day?” he repeated. “You mean the day he died? You were there?”
She finally looked at him, turning her head and fixing her sharp gaze on him. Even though she hadn’t cried, he could see the sadness in her eyes—years’ worth of turmoil bogged down by the grief of loss.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a near whisper. “I was there.”
“Are you sure you saw him kick the bucket? I mean, people can survive some pretty crazy shit.”
Scoffing, she turned her head and hid her face with a swish of her hair. Her defense mechanism.
“I’m sure, Micah,” she ground out, her voice tight and strained. “I know because … because I killed him.”
His head jerked toward Reniel, and the two exchanged shocked glances.
“How did you not know that?” he asked, annoyed that he, as usual was the last to find out about something.
Reniel gave him a cool stare. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am neither omniscient, nor omnipresent? I don’t know everything.”
Micah bit back a sharp retort. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning, cher.”
Sighing, she ran her fingers through her fiery locks and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone. Except Jack,” she added in a small voice.
“Well, seeing as how he’s not here to fill us in …” He prompted, raising his eyebrows.
She nodded. “The short version of the story goes like this. My mom got with Buck after being in and out of some pretty bad relationships. The thing was, this time, she married the jerky guy she was sleeping with, meaning we got stuck with him. He was an abusive jackass, and one day, he tried to rape me. My demon side got out of hand, and before I knew it, I’d … well … I kind of exploded him.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, even as he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. Addison had shown him time and time again how strong she could be, how powerful. It should have scared the shit out of him. Instead, it made him want to push her to her limits and explore just how expansive that power of hers could be. He’d always had a propensity for playing with fire.
“Exploded,” Reniel said, running a hand through his hair. “As in …?”
She nodded. “Yep. Boom. Blood, guts, and limbs all over the trailer. Which is why seeing him tonight in one piece felt pretty surreal. But I guess demons can survive dismemberment?”
“Demons can survive a lot of things,” he replied. “What we need to figure out is which demon he is. If he approached you with the intent to rattle you, then it’s obvious he’s either one of the ten, or one of their minions.”
“Wait a sec,” Micah cut in. “How do we know this guy is really Buck? Maybe it’s just a demon trying to screw around with her mind, get her off her guard.”
Reniel glanced her way. “That could be true.”
Addison shook her head, shuddering again. “No. I know Buck … that voice … It was him. I think I would have known if it had been a fake.”
“We’ll trust your assessment,” the angel replied. “You would know better than we would. Either way, the demons have just made another move against you, which means something else is coming. Micah, I need you to be vigilant in keeping a close eye on Addison. You need to be ready for anything. No drinking.”
Gesturing toward the closed mason jar at his side, he shrugged. “I been cuttin’ back, Ren. Can a guy get a little credit?”
Really, he couldn’t fault Reniel for not giving him a gold star because he’d cut back. He was sober more often than not these days, but he’d been known to go rogue and fall off the wagon in the past. No one knew that better than him. He could easily backslide at any time.
Meanwhile, he’d forgotten how good it felt to get a good workout in every morning. It became easier when he didn’t have to fight a hangover upon waking up. Being sober had its benefits.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be ready for anything,” he said, standing and stretching.
It was late—or rather, early. The sun would be coming up soon and after a long, sleepless night, he was ready to crash.
“I have some investigating to do concerning Buck,” Reniel said, standing, as well. “I will return soon. Keep in contact. If anything happens that I should know about, call me immediately.”
Micah saluted him. “Will do.”
Reniel made a hasty exit, leaving them alone. Striding into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and gave the groceries he’d recently bought a cursory glance.
“Been a long night,” he remarked. “Hungry? I can whip somethin’ up before we both pass out.”
Silence greeted him. He straightened, peering at her over the refrigerator door. She sat right where he’d left her, gripping the edge of the couch cushion, head lowered.
“Hello? Anybody home?”
She didn’t bother to raise her head when she answered. “What the hell do you want, Micah?”
Closing the fridge, he leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.
“At the moment? Breakfast. Then bed. In that order exactly.”
Her head came up with a sharp jerk and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Oh, so you don’t want to fuck me today? Or try to kill me? Or treat me like crap?”
Her voice rose with each question, becoming sharper as her nostrils flared and her breathing sped up. He could see that she trembled, even from this distance. She looked as if she were ready to fall apart at any second, the only thing holding her together her skin.
“Look, it’s just breakfast. If you don’t wanna eat, just say so.”
“No, I don’t want breakfast,” she snapped, standing. “I don’t want to eat, or talk to you, or even look at you! I don’t need you making jokes, or making me eggs, or anything else, for that matter. What I want …”
He left the kitchen and entered the living room, within arm’s reach of her now as he inclined his head and studied her. Damn it, he was doing it again! After effectively driving a wedge between them, he now had to go and try to fix things. And for what? So she would like him? That was the last thing on Earth he should have wanted.
“What?” he prodded when she didn’t continue. “What do you want?”
She blinked and the first tear fell, racing down one cheek.
Micah balled one hand into a fist—the same hand he wanted to use to wipe that tear away. She swallowed and took a deep breath, seeming to try to hold it all in.
“I want Jack back,” she whispered, her voice quavering on a sob she couldn’t contain. Another tear fell, and then another. “I want my mama alive so we can fix our relationship. I want to not feel like such a useless waste of a life, and I want this all to be over.”
For a moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other. She sniffled, swiping her tears away with the back of her hand, shaking like a leaf in the wind. After a few more seconds, he came to a decision.
“Change your clothes,” he said.
She frowned, blinking rapidly as if confused. “What?”
“Put on something loose and comfortable, but cover up a bit—protection from the mosquitoes.”
She scoffed. “Why would I—
“Just do it, cher,” he replied. “Trust me. I know exactly what you need.”
Chapter Eleven: Crossing the Line
Jack had started to doze off by the time Michael returned. He came awake with a jolt, shooting upright on the lounge as the angel strode toward him across the white space. His hands shook when he stood to face the one who would now decide his fate.
“I’m ready,” he declared before Michael could even ask his question. “I know why I’m here.”
Michael smiled. “Do you, now?”
He nodded.
It had hurt to realize it all, but everything had suddenly come to him once he’d allowed himself to contemplate the truth. To forgive himself first …
“Yes. It’s because I lost sight of why I am here. I got caught up in my own feelings and forgot my purpose. I wasn’t giving being a Guardian my all, not fulfilling the vows I swore to when I took my mark.”
The angel nodded in approval, and Jack’s pulse raced. He breathed a sigh of relief. Definitely progress—he’d take anything over the stalling of all their past encounters.
“Why do you think that is?” Michael asked.
Jack flexed his fingers, opening and closing them as he sought courage. Admitting this to Tracey had been easy. Saying it to Michael seemed much harder.
“I gave my life to this cause,” he said slowly, thinking over each word before letting it fall from his mouth. “And I’d started to believe that it was all for nothing. I blamed the people around me for how I was feeling and lost sight of the truth—in the end, all the things I thought I was missing out on meant nothing. This is eternity we’re talking about. The world needs help, and I get to be a part of that. It’s an honor … one I don’t intend to take for granted ever again.”
Michael stroked his jaw, nodding. “It would seem that you have learned a valuable lesson, Jackson. I am proud of you.”
Jack smiled. “I couldn’t have figured it out if it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t brought Tracy to me. And while we’re on the subject, I hope you’ll accept my apology for the way I’ve been acting toward you. Truth be told, when I realized where I was and that you were the one keeping me here, I figured …”
“That it was just one more sick and twisted thing I wanted to put you through to suit my own ends,” Michael finished for him.
Jack lowered his head. “I’m not proud of it. I know better, Michael. No one has fought harder for the cause of Heaven than you.”
Thinking of the event that had occurred thousands of years ago, when one third of Heaven’s angels had been banished after rebelling against God, he realized how true that statement really had been. Michael had led the battle against the fallen angels, had been forced to strike down his own brothers and sisters and exile them to an eternity in Hell as demons. The loss of Lucifer must have been the most crushing pain of all—the two had once been very close.
“I accept your apology, of course,” Michael replied. “You are human and subject to these types of feelings. It is only when you allow them to fester inside that they become a problem.”
That’s what he’d done—allowed them to fester inside him and corrupt everything, until he hadn’t been able to see even beyond the tip of his nose.
“I see that now,” Jack said. “I promise not to let it happen again.”
Michael placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Good. Before I send you back, I have one last request to make of you.”
Jack felt his eyes widen, then a grin spread across his face. Home? Had he heard that right? He’d wanted to go home for so long now that the possibility it could really be happening made him want to leap for joy.
“A
nything to be able to go home again,” he said.
Anything to get to hold Addison in my arms, or have a beer with Micah, or see my parents and sister again.
“This part is very important and essential to the healing process. Just as you have made your peace with both Tracey and I, you must do so with the other people you have held resentment toward.”
That idea left a tight fist of uncertainty in his gut. There existed only one other person he had been nursing resentment against—the last person he should have.
“It will not be easy,” Michael continued. “But, if you want to move forward, it must be done.”
Jack sighed, but nodded in understanding. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I get back. I swear.”
“Good. I believe you are ready.”
The two faced each other and he watched Michael expectantly. The angel’s large hand stretched out toward him, and two of his fingers came to rest on Jack’s forehead.
“Until we meet again, Jackson.”
He squeezed his eyes shut as a flood of white light filled his vision. Even after he’d opened them again, the light surrounded him in a glow so strong he could see nothing else. He became weightless, just as he had been right before waking up after death. Only this time, instead of floating upward, he sank. That feeling like being in an elevator caused his stomach to drop as he descended, faster and faster, until he had to grit his teeth to keep from throwing up.
He fought to control his breathing and remain calm. He closed his eyes again and thought of home—of the quirky city of New Orleans that had become more of a haven to him than his home city of New York. He thought of Micah jabbing him in the ribs and laughing at one of his corny jokes. He thought of Addison smiling up at him, arms wrapped tight around his neck. He thought of their faces when they would see him again and held on to the anticipation of that reunion.
Suddenly, he halted, his body making impact against something hard. He had ended up on his feet, but the rough landing sent him to his knees. As the light faded away, his senses slowly began to return. Wetness kissed his knees through his pants and he registered the feel of spongy grass beneath him. He fell onto his hands to grasp the cold earth, laughing out loud as the blades caressed between his fingers and the smell of the air after summer rain filled his nostrils.
