by G. A. Rael
The next time she woke, it was the sound of familiar voices rather than the television that made her stir. Chase was there. So was Hermes. In the same room.
That couldn’t be good.
“We’re done. She’s done with you,” Chase seethed. “I’m never going to let this happen again, and it’s obvious you’re not able to hold up your end of the bargain.”
Bargain…?
“Look who thinks he’s calling the shots,” Hermes sneered. “I’m the one who got her out of angelic holding, so spare me your martyrdom.”
“After three months! God only knows what they did to her.”
“They’re angels. I’m sure whatever they did can’t be a worse fate than having to deal with your banal personality.”
Chase whispered harshly, “Shut up. I think she’s awake.”
Jordan realized there was no point in pretending to be asleep. She was bad at acting anyway, and too confused to keep track of whatever was going on between them. She sat up slowly, rubbing her head. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday, but that probably doesn’t mean much unless I tell you you’ve been unconscious for a week,” said Hermes.
“A week?” Jordan cried. Her head spun as she tried to stand, but Chase gently pushed her back down.
“Easy, love. Don’t move too fast.”
Jordan stared at him, unsure of which scared her more: the fact that he knew where she’d been and didn’t seem troubled by it, or what had happened itself. She looked between him and Hermes, trying to decide which question was safe to ask first.
“Relax. I filled your groom of inconvenience in on all the pertinent details,” Hermes said boredly, folding his arms as he leaned against the dresser. He ran his fingers over the grain. “Is this Amish?”
Chase ignored him, taking Jordan’s face in his hands. “I know about Paradise, and your…cat,” he said, his eyes flashing suspiciously in Hermes’ direction. “We’ll talk later, but right now, I just want you to focus on resting and getting your strength back. Are you alright?”
“All things considered, I guess so. Just someone please tell me how I slept for a solid week and I don’t smell like a dump?” She hesitated, sniffing the shirt one of them had changed her into. She just hoped it was Hermes. “Or do I?”
“You smell like daffodils,” Chase said gallantly. Coming from him, that didn’t mean a whole lot.
“Gag me,” Hermes said, rolling his eyes. “Incidentally, he’s right. Magically induced coma. I took the brunt of the impact when we fell, but you still got shaken up pretty badly.”
“The angels,” Jordan said suddenly, springing to her feet. Chase took her arm to steady her. “Did they follow us?”
“If they could, you’d be dead by now. By the by, you’re officially under town arrest. Take one step outside the border of Cold Creek and we’re both goners,” Hermes warned.
Chase’s frown told Jordan he knew enough not to be shocked by anything the demon was saying, but he still wasn’t pleased with what he’d learned.
Jordan looked down at her hand and swallowed hard as she eyed the once-glowing blue stone in her ring. Just as she was about to ask if Chase knew about that little detail, she heard someone pounding on the downstairs door.
“Oh, not him again,” Chase said bitterly.
Hermes glanced down at his watch. He might have taken the fall with Jordan, but he didn’t look any worse for the wear. At least he didn’t have horns and scales anymore. “Right on schedule.”
“Who is that?” Jordan demanded. Knowing there were vengeful angels on her tail, she couldn’t understand why the other two were so calm.
“Just Darren,” Hermes answered.
“What?” Jordan asked in disbelief. “What does he want?”
“The whole town knows you’re back, but you were gone for three months, and you know how tongues wag,” said Hermes. “He’s convinced we’re holding you hostage in some kind of cult.”
“Is he wrong where you’re concerned?” Jordan challenged.
“Please. While I certainly possess the charisma for the job, cult leader is so de passe. Be a dear and answer that, would you?”
Chase glared at Hermes, but he was already in the doorway. “I’m letting him in. It’s bad enough that everyone in town was convinced I killed my own fiancé until a week ago, I don’t need that man fanning the flames.”
Jordan winced as he closed the door. She’d been so focused on returning Darren’s soul that she’d been admittedly shortsighted as to just how her absence would affect Chase.
“Feeling guilty? I thought we’d talked about that,” Hermes scolded. “It’s not a luxury you can afford.”
“You did this,” Jordan snapped. “I try to fix one thing you screwed up and twice as many people get hurt.”
“Now you’re starting to get it. Lesson: don’t try to take matters into your own hands again and there won’t be any problems.”
“It’s been three months,” Jordan whispered. “Samael said there was no hope for Darren after the Worm Moon.”
“No hope for his soul, perhaps, but now he’s in the same boat as the rest of us. He’s one of us now.”
Jordan remembered Raguel’s words and her heart sank. She’d fought so hard to release Darren from the web of calamity Hermes had woven around her and he’d been destined to become part of it from the very beginning. “I have to tell him. I’m assuming you already told Chase everything he needs to know.”
“And then some. Lucky you, you got to sleep through all the annoying questions and denial.”
“They’re people, and they’re caught up in this bullshit because of you.” Jordan swallowed. “Because of me.”
“Which is exactly why, if you truly care for them, you’ll stop making a fool out of yourself. Turning yourself in to angels? Galavanting with ghosts? You’re not a spunky paranormal investigator, puppet, you’re a weapon. If anyone has a vested interest in you, take it for a fact that they have bad intentions.”
“And what does that say about you?”
“Oh, my intentions are positively wicked,” he purred. “But at least I’m upfront about it. Selfishness and hedonism aren’t such bad motives, compared to the rest.”
Jordan wanted to argue with him, but she couldn’t. Mostly because she didn’t have the energy.
“Go on. Get cleaned up, have a good cry, and join us downstairs when you’re ready. You’ve had your rest, but now there’s work to do.”
Jordan flipped the demon off behind his back as he left the room, but a shower did sound good. She might have thought it sounded heavenly, but after her time with the angels, that phrase had taken on an entirely different meaning.
Chapter Three
Darren
Three months. People didn’t just go missing for three months and show up out of the blue for any good reason. Especially not when they were young women. Especially not when they were involved with Chase Wylde.
Not that the Sheriff was hearing any of it. All Darren’s pleas for the man to listen to reason had fallen on deaf ears and the last time he’d showed up, Chase had called the police on him like the coward he was. The only reason Darren had gotten out the morning after was his connection to the Sheriff’s younger brother, but Max couldn’t shield him forever.
Not that it mattered. If Jordan really was in there as they all claimed, then the conspiracy surrounding her disappearance went all the way to the top of the town. What the Danbridges could possibly want in league with Chase was another matter entirely, but Darren wasn’t about to let it go until he found out and got Jordan out of that house, whatever it took.
According to Allison, he was “obsessed.” Maybe she was right. Maybe he was, but since Jordan’s friends all seemed to have either disappeared or bought into the lie about her miraculous return, Darren knew he was the only person willing to get to the truth.
Maybe then he could finally let her go.
He fully expected for Chase to keep ignoring him, so when the
door opened and the man appeared with a weary expression, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Chase adamantly denied both any involvement in Jordan’s disappearance and the private information Allison had used against her, but deception was his native tongue.
“What a surprise,” Chase said flatly, opening the door wider. “Do come in. We’ve been expecting you.”
“We?” Darren asked, lingering at the threshold. Was this a trap? Maybe Chase had finally decided to make him disappear, too.
“Jordan is finally feeling well enough for visitors. She’ll be down in a moment,” he said, letting the door fall shut. “Please make yourself at home. You’re here often enough.”
Darren reluctantly followed Chase into the living room. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d walked into Norman Bates’ house and he was ready to hear Chase throwing a woman’s voice when Jordan herself came down the stairs, looking exhausted but very much alive.
Her hair was wet and she was wearing a thick white bathrobe, but there wasn’t a bruise on her. Her eyes met his, as nervous as he was shocked. “Jordan…”
“Hi, Darren,” she said softly. “It’s been a while.”
“You could say that.” His voice was choked out in his chest and he took a step toward her only to think better of it when Chase reached for her hand to lead her over to the sofa.
“Somebody wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked. “Where were you?”
“It’s a long story,” Jordan sighed as her bratty white cat hopped up onto her lap. Darren hadn’t seen him since her disappearance, which was another detail of the case that the police took as proof she’d gone away of her own accord.
“Jordan was just about to tell it when you arrived. Perfect timing,” Chase said wryly, sitting next to her.
“Okay," Jordan said, stroking the cat’s fur absently, as if she simply needed something to do with her hands. "I don't really know where to begin. There are things you both don't know, things you need to know."
Darren's head throbbed. She was alive. He hadn’t realized just how much it meant to him until that moment. She was alive, and that was everything, but how? And what was he supposed to do now?
“Just start from the beginning for Darren and I’ll fill in the pieces,” Chase said patiently.
Why the fuck was he helping? More importantly, why did he care about her explaining anything to her ex-boyfriend? Even more bewildering than the man’s sinister ways were the moments he was unexpectedly thoughtful. Those creeped Darren out much more.
“Okay,” Jordan said, taking a deep breath. “First things first, I really am a witch.” Her gaze traveled over to Darren. “I know you don’t want to believe that, but it’s the truth and nothing I’m about to tell you will make sense if you don’t at least try to suspend your disbelief for the moment.”
A few hours earlier, Darren wouldn’t have been willing to believe she was still alive, but shock had dulled his reasoning. He nodded, not because he believed her, but because he knew it was the only way to keep her talking long enough to figure out what was actually going on.
Once she seemed satisfied, she continued. “When I came to this town, I met someone who told me he could help with…things related to my past. We came to an arrangement, and to make a very long story short, I sold my soul.”
"Sold your soul?" Darren interjected. "Souls don't even exist, Jordan."
She frowned and her eyes blazed with more anger than he thought his comment warranted. "If that's true, then I guess I spent the last few centuries practicing cursive in a garden shed for nothing."
Darren stared at her. "I'm sorry, but my head's not really working lately. Am I supposed to know what that means?"
"Darling," said Chase, taking her by the shoulders, “Let’s move on. Before you woke up, Hermes was telling me about an angel?”
“Hermes?” Darren asked. “That’s your cat’s name.”
Jordan fell silent for a moment, staring down at the purring white thing in her lap. “He’s my familiar.”
Of course, thought Darren. Man, this ran deep. Now Chase was either buying into it or playing into her delusion to manipulate her. Darren wasn’t sure which one was more dangerous, but there would be plenty of time for interrogating Chase later and there would be no need for gentleness then.
“The angel, love?” Chase asked, stroking Jordan’s hair. Darren swallowed the snarl in his throat at the sight of the affectionate gesture, reminding himself that he was still in Chase’s house and he and Jordan had long since broken up. If only he could convince his heart of that.
“Samael,” she replied. "He goes by Sam, though. He's kind of a giant redneck, and he has huge white wings. All the angels do, but only sometimes. The angel I saw before the fire was monstrous, they don't always look like that."
"Sam the redneck angel," Chase echoed flatly. "And he took you to Heaven because you sold your soul to Hermes?”
Jordan chewed on her bottom lip. The cat purred and nudged her hand. “Yeah. I’ve been regretting it ever since.”
“Why don’t you tell Darren why?” The accusatory tone in Chase’s voice suggested he knew more of this story than he was letting on.
Jordan suddenly looked like the timid victim Darren had been expecting to see, if he ever saw her again at all. “I’m getting to that.”
“I’m sorry,” Darren said once he couldn’t take any more. His head was hurting too badly and his thoughts were too jumbled to stay on board with the insanity. “This is just… You really expect me to believe your cat is a demon and you sold your soul to it? And you’re reinforcing it?” he snapped, looking Chase’s way.
“I assure you, I was as flummoxed as you are now,” Chase said, smirking as he lifted the cat into his arms to examine it. “The thing is demonic, certainly, but even I didn’t think it went that far.”
The cat growled low and swept out at Chase with its claw, narrowly missing his cheek. Chase dropped him with a sharp cry and Hermes sprang off his lap and onto Darren's, only to scramble onto the back of the vet's chair before he could react.
"You shouldn't say things like that," Jordan mumbled. "He can dish it out, but he can't take it."
Chase snorted. "I'll be damned before I start watching my language around a house cat."
"That can be arranged." The unmistakably familiar, silken voice came from behind Darren's chair. The look of horror on Chase’s face gave Darren pause. When long arms stretched out around him and long claws dragged languidly up his chest, he decided he had made the right decision by not turning around to look.
Strangely enough, Jordan seemed only vaguely displeased with what was happening.
"You're even more fun to feel up with hands," the thing behind Darren purred. Horror overtook shock long enough for Darren to leap out of his chair. When he spun around, a man no less than seven feet tall was standing behind the chair the white cat had occupied moments earlier. He looked like something out of the pagan myths--a horned god if not the devil himself. For a moment, Darren's throat was too tight to even speak.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" the creature sneered, licking his unnaturally pale lips. The color might easily have been the result of makeup, just like the black rings around his eyes, but the horns and claws weren't so easy to explain away. The cat eyes could have been contacts if not for the way they stayed in place when he slowly blinked.
"Now that's just cliché," muttered Chase.
The monster gave him a withering glare and Chase pulled Jordan closer. "She's the one who should be protecting you, pretty boy," the demon drawled. "You can stand down, too, Walking Vet. Unlike some of the lesser members of Legion, I'd never think of damaging my own property."
Darren frowned in confusion. It was getting harder to put two and two together in such a way that it came out as four and the demon's banter was flying over his head. "What are you?"
"Looks like someone wasn't paying attention in class," Hermes said, leaning against the mantel as he rubbed his temple
s. "I hate this part, the explaining. My head is absolutely throbbing after flying coach to planet Earth and I don't have the patience for it. Jordan, make them stop being incredulous or so help myself I'll drop a real meteor on them both."
“Hermes is a demon who appeared to me as a wounded cat," she explained quickly, casting an apologetic glance at Darren. Well, that was one piece of information that clicked into place. "He came to ask me to make a contract with him because I'm a witch. Demons can only act in this world if they're bound to a witch through contract. He promised me something I wanted more than anything," she murmured. "I turned him down the first time, but then Hank Thomas kidnapped you, Darren. I know you don't remember any of it, but that's because I had Hermes alter your memory to keep you safe."
"What?" Her confession cut through the mental fog for long enough to think. A moment earlier, he would have dismissed it as insanity, but the seven-foot-tall elephant in the room was quickly chipping away at his denial. "What the hell did you erase?"
"Easy, lover boy. She was just trying to protect you," said Hermes.
"No," Jordan murmured. "He has every right to be angry. I'm the only reason he's in this mess."
"What mess?" Darren demanded. "What else aren't you telling me? What happened with Hank Thomas and where is he now?"
Jordan sighed. "No one knows where he is now. He took me hostage after the festival and brought me to the hospital. You were there and so was his wife, Susan. He tried to force me to heal her, but I couldn't. I didn't have that kind of power back then, but he was going to kill you if I didn't try."
"Healing? All that voodoo crap was real?"
"We don't do voodoo, but I know a few who do, so I'd watch my tongue if I were you," Hermes said in a musical tone.
"It is," Jordan said, ignoring him. "I'm so sorry, Darren. I knew you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
