by G. A. Rael
"If it's that important to you, I'll tell the criminals not to come," he said earnestly.
"It's not the criminals, Chase, it's everything," Jordan said, leaning on the edge of the window.
"Everything?" He sounded crestfallen. "Including me?"
"Yes," she admitted, turning to face him. "I mean this in the gentlest way possible, but you scare me sometimes."
He frowned. "How? Whatever it is, I can change."
"No, that's just it. You're perfect."
"So are you," he insisted.
"No, I'm not. I'm naïve and impulsive and, as I learned fairly recently, sanctimonious. And all that is just on the human side of the flaw spectrum, not even counting the witch stuff. You're just...perfect."
"And that's distressing to you?"
"Yes. Especially since you weren't always like this."
His eyes narrowed so subtly that she almost felt a different kind of fear for a moment. "This is about my past, isn't it? Did Darren say something to you?"
"Yes, but it's not just him. Lots of people have said a lot of things. It's just all starting to add up and honestly, I'm not sure if I like where it's going."
"And now you want to break up with me," he said in quiet resignation. "It's alright, I understand. I figured it was only a matter of time."
Jordan let out a frustrated growl. "Stop it! Stop understanding! I don't need you to understand, I need you to... Oh, just forget it," she said as her agitation turned to defeat. "I need you to just forget I said anything about the party. We'll go, we'll have a great time, and I'll finally get to enjoy an evening without Hermes' constant harassment."
Chase suddenly lost the ability to meet her gaze.
"You invited Hermes, didn't you?"
"I thought it would be rude not to," he said, loosening his tie. "That and I'm the slightest bit afraid of him. I'm sorry."
"You don't have anything to apologize for," she said, leaning up to kiss him. "I just hope your criminals are enough of a distraction for him."
"Well, one of them is a male escort," he mused, back to his old self. “Allegedly.”
"That'll do. I'll let you get back to work."
"Are you still coming over tonight?" he asked hopefully.
Jordan hesitated only a moment in the doorway before nodding and hoped he didn't notice. "Of course. See you at eight."
Jordan waited until she was sure she was alone in the stairway that led from Chase’s office to the dental practice downstairs to collapse against the wall, letting out the breath she had been holding for some time. She opened her hand and found herself staring down at the set of keys resting in her palm.
It figured that the most useful magic trick Hermes had taught her to date was sleight of hand. She wasted no time pressing his keys into the mold she had purchased online to make copies. The fact that you could buy just about anything with the click of a button had yet to lose its novelty.
She wasn't going to use the copies that night. She might not ever use them, but just knowing she had the option to snoop made her feel better. The knowledge that Chase would probably have just given her the keys if she had asked made her feel worse again.
Jordan waited a few more minutes until she heard his door open. She hid in the stairwell until she heard him leave for his car and took the opportunity to dash back to his office. He always locked the door from inside, so she had about a second to plant his keys before he noticed they were missing. There were some benefits to being with a man whose every action was planned down to the last second. That predictability was easy to exploit.
She dropped the keys on the floor by his office door and ducked into the bathroom to hide as the front door opened again. Sure enough, he walked past the bathroom muttering something about losing his head if it wasn't attached. Jordan waited a moment before following him out of the building. At least her first covert operation had been a success. Finding a good time to snoop later would be a simple matter, since she had his schedule memorized.
As she drew closer to the town square, her heart skipped. Her intuition alerted her to the unnatural presence even before the yellow spot appeared in her peripheral vision.
Jordan turned slowly to find Natalie staring straight at her, her skirt billowing in the wind. When the ghost teleported a good ten yards closer, Jordan gasped sharply and nearly stumbled into a couple of passing strangers. "Sorry," she said, catching herself.
By the time she looked back, Natalie was at the entrance to the alleyway, beckoning Jordan to follow with a glance over her shoulder before she disappeared.
Jordan took off as quickly as she could without running. When she turned the corner, the ghost was gone. She walked briskly into the alleyway, thoroughly searching each shadow cast on the brick buildings.
"Over here," said a decidedly male voice. The voice wasn't familiar, but its thick Southern drawl was. Jordan spun around to see a deathly pale man in scrubs and a lab coat. His somber expression was made all the more severe by the ashen hue of his skin. There was something familiar about his face, too, but she couldn't quite place it.
When it hit her, her stomach seemed to somersault. "You're that man from the news. The one who died."
"Not exactly, little lady." Jordan's blood ran cold at his words. "I'm just wearin' his skin for a bit before I take his soul back Home," he said, parting his bloodied coat to reveal a plush bear with a glowing blue eye tucked into the interior pocket. "I doubt he'll mind as long as I get his shell back before the funeral."
“Samael,” Jordan whispered, taking an instinctive step back.
"No need to look at me like that," he muttered. "I can't do anything to you in this form even if I wanted to."
"Then why are you wearing a dead guy?"
"You don't know?" He frowned. "Man, that cat really does keep you on a tight leash, don't he?"
"Please, Samael. Just tell me what you're doing here."
"Fine. Because of that artifact you took off with when you broke out, I can’t even pull the souls of deceased from this place without a proxy. I had to rent this guy's corpse just to snag his spirit,” he said, slipping the bear back into his pocket.
"And you put it in a stuffed bear?"
Samael shrugged. "Souls are more portable when you bind them to a sacred object."
"Again, a stuffed bear?"
He chuckled. "It's worth more than the Hope Diamond to a nine-year-old girl. His daughter gave it to him on his deathbed, so yeah, I'd say it's a pretty good vessel. Maybe I'll make sure it finds its way into the crib in the maternity ward his soul is due at in about seven hours."
"Oh," Jordan said softly. "So that thing Hermes stole is keeping you from doing your job?"
"It's makin' things a mite harder, but much like life, death always finds a way. There's not much even a precocious demon can do about that, his little ward aside.“
Jordan watched him for a moment. She knew she had to be hallucinating, but she thought she saw the faintest outline of Samael’s true form when she lost focus. "You're the grim reaper, aren't you?"
"Nah. Just fillin' in for him," he replied. "I don't usually handle the actual reaping, just the transport, but he's busy and I thought I'd swing by while I was in the neighborhood, so here I am."
"He's busy?" she asked warily. "Why?"
"Gearin' up for the Apocalypse," he said. "A lot of people are about to die 'cause of the war your pet started."
Jordan cringed. “Hermes doesn't want to start the Apocalypse, he just wants to make sure no one else can."
"That what he told you?" Samael’s casual disbelief had a way of making her feel like a fool.
"What is it that Hermes took, exactly?"
"The Moonstone," he replied, "and not the kind you can buy in a new age shop. It's one of the sacred artifacts kept in the Archives, or the Heavenly Storehouse, as we called it before the rebrand."
"What does it do?"
“Well, it kinda vibrates, so it makes one hell of a personal massager," he said w
ryly. "What do you think it does? It controls the moon, or at least the force the moon exerts. From the tides to supernatural transformation, that hunk of rock is pretty much the key to all things magical."
"Why would Hermes want something like that?" There were plenty of reasons, but Jordan was hoping Samael would know the most pertinent.
"Imagine a world where witches aren't bound by the lunar calendar, wolves can transform whenever they want, the dead are always ravenous predators, and it all happens on the whim of one demon," he said, his voice lowering to a grave tone.
"Oh," said Jordan, taking a moment to process what he had said about the dead. "That does sound..."
"Catastrophic?"
"That's the word."
"Par for the course when you're working with an ancient demon," he said, shrugging. "I reckon that ain't the half of it, neither. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that Hermes didn't tell you about the kill switch?"
She shook her head.
"'Course not," Samael muttered. "He's rigged it up so that if an angel manages to break his ward and so much as sets foot in Cold Creek, the Moonstone explodes. You know what happens when the Moonstone explodes?"
"No." She had a feeling she was never going to forget once he told her.
"Every Goddamn monster in the Western hemisphere transforms to its true form permanently, including Darren," said Samael. "You startin' to get a sense of the gravity of the situation?"
"Starting to," she said hoarsely. “But as little as I trust Hermes, you’re the one who left me in a torture chamber.”
“That wasn’t a torture chamber. It was rehab,” he said flatly. “And he broke you out before it was safe to come for you.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He scowled, like he was as irritated with himself as her. “I didn’t come down here just to argue with you.”
“Then what did you come for? Besides the dead guy.”
“I came to warn you. I came in hopes that the person I got a glimpse of Up There is more real than who the others think you are,” he said, his gaze turning somber. “That maybe you could be reasoned with.”
“Me?” she scoffed. “I’m just trying to protect the people I care about and stay out of the hands of anyone who could use me to destroy the world, your boss included.”
“Rag ain’t my boss,” he said defensively. “We’re coworkers. Or at least, we were.”
“Were? So he did get in trouble?” she asked, afraid to get her hopes up.
“Not exactly,” Samael said reluctantly. “He lied his way out of it like he always does and with you gone, it was his word against mine. Since I’m the one who let you escape…”
Jordan winced. “So are you not an archangel anymore?”
"I'm still that," he said. "For now. Got demoted so far down the ranks of H.O.S.T. that I'm practically back to being a guardian, though.
"What is H.O.S.T. exactly?" Jordan asked. She had heard the name during her stay in Heaven, but still didn't know what it was.
"It stands for Heavenly Order of Supernatural Transit," he replied proudly. "We make sure everything gets to and from the afterlife in a timely manner. Had a perfect record, too, 'till you came along."
"I really am sorry, Samael. I’m sorry about your involvement in all of this.” She chose her words carefully. Reminding him that he was one of her consorts probably wasn’t going to help.
He frowned. “About my ‘involvement.’” He glanced up and over his shoulder, like there might be angels listening from the clouds. Jordan shuddered at the thought. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“Just Hermes and the others. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t pal around with angels.”
He grunted. “Suppose it was too much to think you’d keep your trap shut around the cat.”
“You think I’m any happier about this than you are?” Jordan demanded, crossing her arms. “You think I woke up one morning and thought, ‘Hey, I can’t even keep one boyfriend alive and happy. You know what would be great? Five, including a judgmental angel who hates me.”
To Jordan’s amazement, his only response to her tirade was a light chuckle. “Guess not. Just so long as you know this changes nothing. You’re still Heaven’s public enemy number one and I’m—”
“Still my enemy,” she interrupted. “You’ll come for me when it’s time. I know.”
Samael pursed his lips and seemed to want to say something he was afraid to. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. You and me didn’t make a half-bad team up there.”
“No,” Jordan murmured. “We didn’t. But I’ve never really gotten along with angels, so don’t feel too bad about it.”
His gaze turned dark with sadness. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about all of that. If I’d gotten to you first, things would’ve been a lot different.”
“Yeah, well… there’s a lot of regret to go around these days.” She hesitated. “Can I ask you a question? Purely a matter of curiosity.”
“Can’t promise I’ll answer, but shoot.”
"What exactly is a Class-K witch?"
“Oh, that,” he laughed. “K stands for Kitten. We rank you all with cat names since demons like the bastards so much. Level C is for Cat, J is for Jaguar, L is for Lion, and --"
"A is for Aardvark, I got it," she muttered.
“Now it’s my turn. How the hell did Hermes get you out of there, anyway? None of us have been able to figure it out and it’s a moot point now.”
Jordan shrugged. “Hermes said he could access me anywhere because of the link between us."
"If that were the case, you think we wouldn't have thought of that?" he challenged. "No regular demon is capable of breaking into Heaven. Not even with a soul contract. You can own the rights to repossess a car, but that don’t mean you have the means to break into Fort Knox to do it.”
“I guess not…”
"Demons are monsters just like anything else. They have limitations and Heaven's gate is one of them. The only way in or out without an escort is to have been created there."
"Like an angel?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Yep."
"Don't all demons start out as angels?"
"Only some. Only the Fallen. Lucifer has his creations, souls he plucked out of the darkness to serve him, but only a demon that was born as an angel really counts."
"Could Hermes be one of them?"
"He's not on the Registry, I already checked," said Samael. "Even if he had been an angel at one point, that wouldn't explain how he got in. The only way to get to Heaven is on angel's wings, so you could say they're kind of like a key. Before an angel is cast down from Heaven, his wings are ripped off and they never grow back. You know that old saying about how you can't go home?"
She nodded.
"Well, it's true where Heaven's concerned."
"In other words, Hermes performed a miracle even by angelic standards."
"I wouldn't use that term, but yeah," Samael said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There's only one other angel in existence who managed to keep his wings after the Fall and that's only because he didn't so much fall as dive."
Jordan felt a chill that penetrated her bones. "Who?"
"Lucifer."
“Are you saying Hermes is really…?” She couldn't bring herself to finish that question.
"I don't know. I’m being kept out of the loop after I mollycoddled you, so I was hoping you could give me some insights. The others sure think something weird is going on with him. Watch yourself.”
“That almost sounds like you’re looking out for me,” she warned.
He gave her a smile that was sadder than she’d expected. “Too little, too late, I guess.” He heaved a big old sigh and looked back the way he’d come. “I should get this suit back to the cleaner’s.” When he saw her horrified expression, he laughed. "Just a little reaper humor."
"Be careful Up There, Sam."
"I wi
ll. You be careful down here," he said, cocking his head. "Just out of curiosity, does your little entourage have any idea what really happened to you in Paradise?"
"If Hermes knows, I doubt he cares," she murmured. "I told Darren a little, but it's not something Chase can handle. Honestly, once I got out, Heaven was the last thing I felt like talking about."
"I get that," he said. "Maybe you also know that even if you did feel like talking, they wouldn't understand. How could they? They're only human, more or less."
"There's that."
He sighed. "For what it's worth, and completely off the record, I'm glad you're out of there. I just want you to understand that the only things you experienced in that room were already in your head to begin with. Paradise gives you what you want."
Jordan frowned. "You're saying I wanted to spend eternity locked in my old closet with periodic torture sessions?"
"I'm saying you don't just go and sell your soul to save someone else. You do it because you think lowly enough of yourself to use your eternal soul as a bargaining chip in the first place. Money, fame, or in your case, reuniting with your family, are all just reasons. It's all just a cover for what you really want. Paradise is only a torture chamber if that's what you think you deserve."
Jordan found it hard to meet his gaze. His words were bringing back memories that felt like a lifetime away, things she had hoped would stay locked up in her prison in Paradise.
"I'm not sayin' any of this to hurt you. Just something to think about. You take care, little lady.”
"You too, Sam.”
This time, he didn't disappear. He simply turned and walked his vessel back toward the forest. Jordan stared after him for a long while, straining to resist the overwhelming urge to follow him.
Samael was right. No one she knew had any idea what she had been through in that room. The only person who truly understood was walking away, quite possibly for the last time.
Chapter Eight
Darren
The engagement party was all Chase with a hired band playing jazz versions of some obscure indie songs, appetizers catered by an up-and-coming chef from New York, waiters dressed in sharp tuxedos, and guests in all-out ballroom attire complete with masquerade masks of all sizes, colors and designs. There was little, if any, of Jordan's personality to be found. When someone wheeled a dolphin sculpted out of ice past Darren, his suspicion that she had played no part in the preparations at all was confirmed.
