by G. A. Rael
“Nah. Zombies are much easier to train.”
Darren grunted. “Good to know. So does that make you a familiar, too?”
“Nope,” Samael said proudly. “I kept my wings. I’m still an angel, just a bad one. You and Hermes are the only house pets around here. At least until we figure out what Chase is.”
“Hermes,” Darren muttered. "If it wasn't for him, Hank Thomas wouldn't have had any reason to kill me and Jordan wouldn't have sold her soul. Hell, we wouldn't have had a near miss with the Apocalypse."
"I'm not sure about all that," Samael said carefully. "But you're right about one thing. Hermes is at the center of a whole lot of chaos for one little demon but he's nowhere to be found when shit goes down."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm sayin' I might be stuck on earth, but I've still got my wings and I'm planning to wrangle me a demon."
“Jordan won't like that."
"Do I look like someone who takes orders from travel-sized witches?"
Darren hesitated. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna find Hermes and drag his ass back to Cold Creek. Now that I don't have to follow Heavenly protocol, I've got a bit more leeway in how I get answers."
"You seem to know what's going on."
"Let's just say I got a theory." He downed another drink and fished in his pocket for some cash.
"For an angel, you sure can hold your liquor."
"Thank you kindly," Sam said, placing a twenty on the bar. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll hit the road. Do me a favor and come up with an excuse for why I'm gone that won't have our girl popping any blood vessels, hm?"
"You're leaving now? You're drunk."
"It would take a truckload of tequila to get me drunk.” He smirked. "Besides, who said anything about driving? I got some frequent flier miles racked up."
Darren rolled his eyes. "That was bad even for you. What about the Chase situation?"
"You can handle it," the angel said confidently. "You passed the test."
"Test?" Darren frowned.
Samael nodded toward the bartender. Darren did a double take when he saw a much older woman behind the counter where the attractive thirty-something bartender had been moments before. Her name tag still read Rhonda.
"You screwed with my head," Darren muttered, turning back to find himself talking to an empty space. To his chagrin, he realized that the bell over the door never even rang.
Chapter 17
Jordan
Jordan pulled a white shawl around her shoulders before gathering up her wooden basket filled with wildflowers. One of the many benefits of living on the New England countryside was the ability to gather fresh ingredients for spells. She still wasn't sure that the title of “witch” sat well with her, but it was a lot more comfortable than Whore of Babylon.
Her thoughts drifted back to Samael and Darren. She hoped they were having fun, even though the idea of either of them having too much of it filled her with an absurd amount of jealousy. She didn't like the side of her that was developing ever since Sam had come back. She had never considered herself the possessive type, especially not when it came to things she had no rightful claim to.
Sometimes she felt the need to remind herself that even if she wasn't engaged, Samael was an angel and Darren was under no obligation to sit around and wait for her, consort or not. Even if there were no other obstacles between them, he had still betrayed her by sharing her most intimate secrets with Allison. It might have all taken place the better part of a thousand years ago after her stay in Paradise, but the wound was still fresh and no matter how much she loved him, she wasn't sure she could ever trust him the same way again.
It took a while for Jordan to realize that she had gone much further into the woods than she first intended. There was something meditative about being in nature that had always calmed her and made her lose track of time. Maybe it was the fact that she had been deprived of its beauty for so long, but it was an unfortunate weakness to fall prey to at dusk.
As the light faded and the round moon began to take its place in the sky, Jordan knelt and strained her eyes to make sure that the flowers she was putting into her basket were the right ones. Every now and then, she felt like someone was watching her and it made her quicken her pace. She had very little faith that Hermes would be there if she needed him, despite his promise to never let anything happen to her. His track record was spotty at best.
Something rustled in the bushes and Jordan had a bad feeling that it wasn't a miraculous resurgence of wildlife in the Cold Creek woods. Her back stiffened as she rose and slowly began walking back toward the little white house.
A low rumble stopped her in her tracks. Please just be an animal. Please just be a normal animal.
It became a sort of chant as she strode purposely through the brush, trying to cover as much ground as possible while making as little noise as possible.
"Going somewhere?" The voice was unfamiliar, but the inflection wasn't. Its smoothness belied a predatory nature and the man it belonged to looked the part. He was wearing a casual button-down and a pair of jeans that would have made him look right at home in any office on a Friday afternoon, but not in the middle of the forest. His face was handsome if generic, but his eyes were just a shade too blue for her to buy the friendly stranger routine.
"This is someone else's territory," she said guardedly, choosing her words carefully just in case he really was human. "You shouldn't be here."
"Is it?" he challenged, taking a step forward. "I heard there was a powerful demon here but all I see is his little pet."
"Maybe he isn't here right now, but he'll be here in an instant if I call him."
"An instant?" The demon laughed, closing the distance between them at a speed Jordan's brain couldn't process. His hand gripped her neck tightly and the basket fell, spilling the flowers onto the earth. "It won't take nearly that long for me to snap your neck."
"What do you want?" Jordan choked. She was only slightly comforted by the knowledge that if the demon truly wanted her dead, she would be already.
"You're awfully bold for a fledgling witch," he said, releasing her with a shove.
Jordan staggered but regained her footing and rubbed her neck. "You can't kill me. Demons have rules and ranks just like angels, and judging from the fact that you're skulking around in a forest while he's gone instead of facing him, I'm going to venture a guess and say that Hermes outranks you."
The demon's eyebrow twitched, the only sign on his unmoving face that she had gotten to him at all. "You're a bold little harlot, aren't you?"
"Haven't you heard?" she asked wryly. "I'm the harlot around these parts."
He smirked. "We'll see if you're so quick to hide under your master's skirt once you find out what he has planned for you. Do send me a line from Hell and tell me what it's like being a demon's chew toy for all eternity."
Jordan flinched. "Get out of here before I call him. As far as I can tell, you don't feel like dealing with him any more than I do, so why ruin the night for both of us?"
The demon watched her with mounting interest. Jordan could tell he was trying to decide whether to call her bluff and tried to remain impassive. With Darren and Samael out for the night and Hermes and Chase simply gone, she didn't have high hopes that crying for help all the way out in the forest would yield any results. Even worse was the idea of unleashing a demon on the good people of Cold Creek. A different kind of monster had taken its fair share of lives all too recently.
If Darren or Samael had had any idea about the wolf, Jordan knew she would have been under lock and key. The decision to prioritize her freedom over her safety was seeming more foolish by the second.
"I'll leave when I'm ready," he said casually, nodding into the distance. "It's an interesting little town you found here. Nice and pretty on the surface, but underneath," he said with a click of his tongue. "We did a number on this one. Lot of history here is what I'm trying to say."
/> "Your point?" The tough act was getting harder for Jordan to maintain with each passing mental image of someone she loved suffering at the demon's hands.
He gave her a lazy smile. "You've got a lot of history, too. I've done some research. Your name is sort of a buzzword lately."
"Everyone has a past."
"That's true," he said, nodding slowly. "Except your master. Did you know I've met just about every demon since the Fall? I'm social like that."
"Well, I'm sure they're proud to call you friend,” Jordan said, slipping her hands behind her back as she tried to call up her fire. Not that it seemed a particularly effective weapon against a demon, but it was the only ability she had partial mastery over.
"Never met a Hermes, though," the demon continued, stroking his own stubbly cheek. "Demons don't just come out of nowhere, you know. We were recruited. We're not like the angels. We have a strong leader and we band together more or less, at least where the enemy is concerned. You could say your ’Hermes’ is a bit of an enigma."
Jordan listened, trying not to betray her growing interest. "I'll tell him you said that. I'm sure he'll be flattered."
"You're a bit dense even for a human, aren't you?" he asked in a tone dripping with patronization. "What I'm getting at, little girl, is that there was no demon Hermes until recently. Now he’s all anyone’s talking about. Quite the foray onto the scene, don’t you think?”
"So what are you saying? Lucifer got bored and created a new groupie?"
He laughed. “Most of us fell, and those who didn’t are too weak to go toe-to-toe with an angel and live. There’s no record of Hermes in the Fall. I'd say that makes his status as a demon questionable at best."
"Why do you care so much?"
"He doesn't tell you much, does he?" the demon mused. "Either he doesn't trust you or he cares about you. Now that second option holds all sorts of intriguing possibilities."
Jordan took an instinctive step back. “Just answer the question." She could feel fire burning her fingertips, but something was suppressing it, like trying to light a match in a room full of steam.
The demon closed the space she had put between them, mocking her with his speed. "I don't know if you've just got Hermes wrapped around your finger or what, but I won't be spoken to by a bond slut like that," he said, holding out his hand. An unseen force flung her into a nearby tree. "As for why I care, that's simple. Your charismatic overlord has been trying to rally demons for a mutiny against Lucifer. I thought I'd feel him out, see if he had anything interesting going on, but it looks like he's just another weak-willed demon who got hard for a human girl and went soft."
"He'll kill you if you do anything to me," Jordan seethed. If nothing else, she hoped to put the fear of the devil into him so he'd run as far from Cold Creek as possible.
"Oh, I have no doubt he'll try. Dumb son of a bitch is probably too far gone to realize I'm doing him a favor," he said, dragging an invisible claw down Jordan’s shoulder. The front of her dress broke open and the demon wet his lips before his unseen claw dug into her flesh just enough to draw blood.
Jordan pursed her lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of screaming or calling another victim to him. She’d given up on the fire, but maybe the force she’d been able to call on right before the werewolf had broken into the vault would prove an unexpected ally.
"Maybe I'll have a little taste first. See what all the fuss is about." The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he was standing in front of her, looking like he was ready to devour her, soul and all. Before he could reach out to touch her, Jordan threw out her hand and sent the demon flying through the trees. She didn’t wait for him to land to start running.
It took all of a few seconds for the demon to catch up with her. He took her down so hard her head cracked against the ground and the world spun as he yanked her to her feet. She shuddered as the demon swept her hair away from her neck and leaned in, inhaling deeply of her neck. "I see someone else has been using you like a wet bar. My, you do get around."
Before she could make sense of his words, a shadow came out of nowhere and took the demon to the ground. They rolled for a moment before the same monster that had broken into the bank vault threw its head back in an earth-shaking roar and snapped its massive jaws down on the demon's neck. The beast thrashed its head and a chunk of flesh went flying.
The wolf leaped back to its feet and the demon was staggering to his. He reached out a hand and threw the beast clear through a line of trees, leaving splintered stumps in its wake. Jordan told herself that learning to master telekinesis was no longer a matter of convenience but necessity. The sooner, the better.
Throwing the beast proved to be a grave mistake, as Jordan and the demon realized at the very same moment. The wolf lurched forward and began running on all four giant paws, building up momentum as it went. The demon reached for something in his pocket, but it was too late. The wolf took him down and Jordan turned away just in time to see the head go flying.
The sounds of the monster devouring his victim’s flesh made Jordan’s stomach churn, but she wasted no time fleeing. If she couldn’t take a demon, she stood no chance against that hellhound. The nauseating sounds of the demon's consumption faded and she hoped it was only because she was too far away and not because the werewolf had turned its attention to fresh meat.
When she heard the dull sounds of paws loping over the earth, she knew she was next on the menu. Before the thing could reach her—and it was closing ground fast—a gnarled root sticking out of the earth caught the toe of her shoe and she went headfirst into the ground.
The last thing she remembered before going unconscious, besides the taste of grass and the sharp pain in her ankle, was the feeling of a cold wet nose pressed against her ear.
Chapter 18
Jordan
Jordan woke to the realization that she was still all in one piece. Some of the pieces had fared better than others, but none looked like they had seen the inside of a werewolf's jaws.
It took her a moment to make sense of where she was. She was undoubtedly in Chase’s room. The pristine linens she had been tucked into were still perfectly folded in the parts she hadn't disturbed. The large bay window was open and the wind billowed out the same sheer curtains as the ones in his office, giving a full view of the empty town square.
It was daytime, if barely. The butcher would be going out soon for his morning run, assuming Mrs. Herrin hadn't kept him up too late. Anna Davison would be pushing a stroller to the coffee shop to set up. Darren's upstairs light was due to turn on at any moment.
Jordan looked down at her shoulder and arm to find them both bandaged. There was another bandage wrapped tightly around her ankle and when she made any attempt to move it, the sharp pain gave her a hint as to why it was there. She remembered tripping as she ran from the wolf, so the source of the injury was no mystery. What was a mystery was how she had ended up at Chase’s or made it back alive at all.
“Chase?” she called hopefully. Maybe he had come home. She had her growing suspicions that he was something other than human, which would almost answer more questions than it raised, so the idea that he had somehow saved her from the jaws of the wolf didn't seem entirely impossible. When there was no response, she slowly got to her feet and limped her way to the door. Fortunately, his bedroom was on the first floor.
As she hopped her way over to the couch and reached for the phone to call Darren or Samael, the phone's shrill ring startled her so badly that she knocked it off its cradle. Her hands trembled as she made the split-second decision to answer it in fear that one of his clients would think he had hung up on them. "Hello?"
"Hello?" The person on the other line had clearly expected Chase. "Who is this?"
"This is Chase’s fiancée, Jordan," she said, slapping her forehead at the unnecessary disclosure. "I'm, um, housesitting."
"Oh," he said, clearing his throat. "This is Roger Hayes. I suppose I should congratulate you. Clearly th
e better man—or should I say woman?—won."
"Excuse me?"
Roger sighed impatiently. "The promotion? I never thought I'd hear of a woman who wasn't dying to live the life in New York, but you should count yourself lucky. Chase must be crazy about you to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime."
"I'm sorry, you’re saying Chase turned the promotion down?"
"Don't tell me he didn't say anything to you.”
"No, he didn't. But he hasn't made it back home yet."
"What does that have to do with anything? He turned me down last week."
His words connected directly with her gut. "Oh," she said slowly. "Right, of course. I'm sorry, I'm useless before my morning coffee."
"Anyway, I was just calling to see if he'd be willing to rethink it now that he's had some time. Maybe you're the person I should really be trying to convince. Broadway shows, Times Square, more shopping than you can handle," he said, switching from lawyer to salesperson in an instant. "There's a lot in it for you if you can get Chase to change his mind."
Jordan’s throat felt like it was going to close up and she tried in vain to convince herself that it was residual nerve damage from the demon's clutches. "Trust me," she said shakily. “Chase does whatever he wants."
"Wait—”
Jordan blindly settled the phone back into its cradle and found herself staring into space. She glanced back down and picked up the phone again, dialing Chase’s number. He picked up on the second ring, as always.
"Hello?" His voice was loud, as if he was yelling over the chaos in the background.
"It's me," she said, gripping the phone a little tighter. “I came over to check on your plants."
"How sweet," he said. "I was just about to call and ask if you could. Looks like I need to stay in New York a bit longer."
She clenched her jaw. "How is it going?" she asked, trying to keep her tone level. "Are you any closer to making a decision about the promotion?"
