by G. A. Rael
Jordan felt violently ill, but showing weakness in front of the monster was only going to embolden him.
“Chase is my kill switch, if you will,” he continued. “All I have to do is take him over in the vicinity of any one of your protectors and they'll take him out quicker than you can blink."
"Don't," she choked. "I won't say anything, just please, don't hurt him.”
"A loyal whore. Who woulda thought?” he scoffed. "I'm going to enjoy watching you from behind the screen now that I’m awake. Eating dinner. Going out on dates. Your little Friday night rendezvous. Watching you pretend like everything is fine. Like every touch isn't working its way under your skin, turning your stomach, making you wonder if it's him or me. And Jordan," he said, pausing to take a thick strand of her hair between his fingers, breathing in its scent as he whispered, “I’ll always be watching."
She shoved him and he laughed. “Jess was feisty, too. Guess we share a type.”
“Go to hell,” Jordan seethed.
“Baby, I’m already there. But having you with me? That’s priceless.” He walked toward the hallway that led into Chase's kitchen. "I'm gonna go to the store for a beer since this freak doesn't drink anything in a can. When I get back, he's going straight to bed, but you should take a breather. Get yourself together, maybe take a nice hot shower and scrub away the creepy crawlies before you head back home. Wouldn't want you tipping off your harem, would we?"
Jordan waited until she heard the front door shut before collapsing against the back of the couch. She didn't want to be in the house another moment with that thing, but she knew he was right. She was a wreck and if she headed home immediately, she would set off Mrs. Herrin at the very least.
Her entire body trembled as she made her way to the bathroom. The hallway dipped and swayed with the throbbing in her forehead, but she somehow made it into the shower. The water was scalding but not nearly hot enough to erase the feeling of his fingers on her skin. She wanted to believe that the monster was the one who’d fed from her, too, but if what he said was true, Chase was keeping secrets darker than the ones she’d feared.
Was he a vampire? It made sense of the biting but little else. Surely Samael would know, and he was neither cold to the touch nor impervious to the effects of aging. The whole town had watched him grow up, even if they had watched him grow up into someone else. Vampires didn’t swap into other people’s bodies, either. Demon was still the only explanation that made any sense, but surely Hermes would have known and Chase didn’t have the same dark, chaotic energy that characterized both Hermes and the demon in the woods.
Whatever he was, the wound on her neck already seemed to have healed. She turned off the water and got dressed as fast as she could before booking it out of that house. On her way home, she decided she would tell anyone who asked that she had tripped and hit her head. Simple, yet undeniably plausible. The bigger issue was going to be keeping the truth from Chase himself.
Everything now depended on it.
Chapter 23
Hermes
Hermes had been wandering the streets of the more remote neighborhoods for the last few hours. London had been a dead end, and it seemed that Madrid would end up the same, but there were worse things than being away. It gave him time to think. More importantly, it gave him time not to think about all the time she was spending with the rest of them.
As he passed another alley, a woman in a short skirt, long boots and not much for a top beckoned him to join her. He smiled pleasantly on his way past. Not half a block later, a car slowed to a crawl to keep up with him. The window rolled down and the driver slurred, “How much?”
"Sorry, I'm not for sale," he purred and kept walking. The cities changed and the lights grew more incessant, but the players always remained the same. If the little darlings only knew how far off base they were.
Hermes had existed as long as existence was a glimmer in the cosmic abyss, and in that time, he had only had eyes for one soul. Sometimes he wondered if that soul even knew. Sometimes he wondered if it mattered.
The demon glanced at the road that had turned into more of a pothole gallery framed in pavement. There was another car that had been following him for the last three blocks and its driver seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he was stealthy.
Hermes happened to be in the mood to offer corrections. The statuesque demon came to a stop and slowly removed his gloves as the car rolled up beside him. It would be a shame to stain genuine leather.
"Looks like heaven's missin' an angel, baby." The thick Southern drawl made every hair on his body bristle as surely as it did when he was a cat. Hermes's spine straightened as he turned to see Samael leaning out the window of a souped-up convertible. The car was almost as gaudy as his cowboy hat and the gleaming bolero tie around his neck. "Think I finally figured out which one, too."
Hermes’s eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."
"Hop in and find out."
The demon rolled his eyes and stalked around the car to get in on the passenger's side. "Nice rental."
"I know demons like shiny things," Samael said before slamming his foot on the gas pedal. Hermes gripped the door handle as the car roared down the battered road, but he refused to give the angel the satisfaction of complaining. “Figured it was my only chance at luring you in.”
"Reckless as always, I see," Hermes said, yawning.
Samael rounded a sharp corner with an even sharper turn and the tires screamed. "I'm flattered you remember me. Me and Michael were closer, but I always looked up to you, big bro," he said pointedly. “Or should I say Raphael?”
Hermes tapped his nails on the armrest and gazed boredly out the window. Not that there was much of a view to be seen with the way Samael was driving. "So you figured out who I am. Want a cookie?"
"Try answers," said Samael, taking another screeching turn. “You may be an archangel, but you’re a familiar now, for God only knows what reason. If we were to crash, you'd heal but I'm willin' to bet it'd hurt like a bitch while you knit yourself back together."
"You say that like I can't just leave this car any time I want.”
Samael cocked an eyebrow. "Can ya?"
Hermes’s gaze slowly followed Samael’s to the sigil that had been drawn on the raised convertible roof. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
"See, I noticed Rag's little star trap didn't work to keep you penned in, as brilliant as it was," he mused. "Then I thought, what kind of demon can't be bound by the Tetragrammaton?"
"I give up," Hermes said, crossing his arms impatiently. "Do I get a lifeline?"
Samael gave a knowing chuckle. "A demon who's still an angel. One who fell after Lucifer’s army lost their wings. Only three of us in the known universe, as far as I can tell."
“So you figured me out. I hope you don’t think it’s going to get you anywhere.”
The car came to an abrupt stop in the middle of an abandoned alley and Hermes's head connected with the dashboard. He rubbed his bleeding forehead and turned to glare at Samael, but the angel grabbed his neck and pinned him to the seat. The force of the gesture caused it to recline and for a moment, as Hermes found himself staring into familiar puppy dog eyes lit up with righteous anger, he was sure he was close to being strangled.
"Sorry, Sam. I generally like to be on the other end of the rough stuff," he said in a coughing purr.
Samael's lip curled back in a snarl as his grip around Hermes's neck tightened, but he eventually released him with a defeated sigh and returned to his seat. The angel leaned heavily on his door and dragged a hand through his light brown hair. "I've been looking for you since World War II. I can understand why you left. Hell, I was thinking about it long before this mess, but to think you were hiding on earth as some two-bit demon all this time? What the hell, Raph?"
Hermes returned the seat to its upright position and straightened his hair in the vanity mirror. "Two-bit? I'm hurt. I'd say I'm worth four or five at least."
"I'm s
erious," he snapped. "I think you owe me an explanation, considering I know all this bullshit I got dragged into has to be at least partially your fault."
"I owe you nothing. I never asked for you to look for me. In fact, I actively discouraged it," he said matter-of-factly. "As for your fall, I might have arranged certain things here and there..."
"Like Darren St. Clair's soul," Samael said through gritted teeth.
"Like that," Hermes admitted. "But you fell for the same reason I did."
"Oh, yeah? And what's that?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
The blank look on Samael's face told him it wasn't. Hermes reached out to give his cheek an affectionate caress. "My sweet, innocent little Samael. You fell because you broke the cardinal rule of our kind. You fell in love with a human."
Samael hit his hand away. "Bullshit."
"Deny it all you want, but it's the truth," Hermes said with a shrug. "If you didn't love Jordan, you never would have defied Raguel, never mind killed him. The Samael I knew put his brothers before...." He paused. "Well, I guess now I know where the saying comes from."
“I barely know her.”
“You were up there with her for centuries. Don’t tell me you never snuck into Paradise to check on her?”
Samael’s silence told the truth. "Raguel has been on a power trip for centuries and everyone knows it," he growled, changing the subject as the car shifted into gear.
"True, but you're the one who put a blade through his chest."
"And got rid of your biggest enemy in heaven in the process," Samael muttered. "I played right into your hand, didn't I?"
"Maybe, but he was Jordan's biggest threat, too. She's safer now for what you did."
"No, the target on her back is bigger than ever before. The only difference is, now they're afraid to make a move since there are two ex-archangels on her side."
Hermes smiled. "I suppose it did have that effect, didn't it?"
"Oh, stop with the coy act.”
"Why? It had you going, didn't it?"
Samael groaned. "I just never thought you of all people would stoop so low. And what's with the shitty dye job?"
That got under his skin. Hermes touched his stark white locks. "It happened when I took the oath of transformation."
"Join forces with Lucifer, tarnish your soul and get a free makeover," Samael taunted. "Gee, where do I sign up?"
"The disguise serves its purpose."
"Yeah, at an anime convention. What the hell are you doing searching for him, anyway? He wants Jordan same as Michael does.”
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“Jordan is my witch. The rest of you are just pawns,” said Hermes. “Leave the game strategy to me and worry yourself about protecting her from more temporal threats. Cold Creek is just brimming with monsters, you know.”
Samael looked over, eyeing the demon next to him in pure disgust. “You may not have fallen by heaven’s standards, but your character sure took one hell of a dive. Lying, cozying up to Lucifer, manipulating an innocent girl and everyone around her so she fits this bullshit prophecy.”
"It's not like that."
"Then how the fuck is it?"
"That's between me and Jordan," Hermes said calmly.
"Which implies you're actually gonna be honest with her about all this."
"I will. In fact, I was heading back to speak with her when you found me.”
"Oh, I'm sure."
"I don't care if you believe me or not," said Hermes. “Destiny chose you to be one of Jordan’s consorts because you’ll do what you need to do.”
“Destiny or you?” Samael challenged. “I don’t buy all of us just ending up in the right place for one second.”
Hermes smirked. “It’s a moot point now, isn’t it? You are here and soon, the fifth will be joining us. I could’ve chosen another angel, but I was always fond of you. I didn’t want to leave you up there when everything goes down.”
Samael grunted. “Like I’m gonna believe that.”
“Believe it or don’t,” Hermes yawned. “It’s of no difference to me.”
The angel was still watching him. He could feel it. “Who’s the fifth?”
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be any fun. But while we’re on the subject, you should know that if you tell Jordan who I am, it'll only make it harder to protect her."
"I saw the way she reacted when you showed up at the engagement party in all your former glory," Samael said, frowning. "Why does she hate the ophanim so much?"
"She thinks I’m the one who made her kill her family and all those innocent people," he replied casually.
“Well, are you?"
Hermes gave him a bored look. "It was a simple misunderstanding."
"So why haven't you corrected it?"
"Because her mind is fragile. There are things she doesn't remember and can't, not now. Trust me when I say that if Jordan remembered what really happened that night, she would come apart in such a way that even I couldn't put her back together."
"I don't trust you," said Samael, pulling onto one of the main roads, "But for whatever reason, Jordan does whether she wants to admit it or not. She hasn't been the same since you left, so I guess I'm stuck with you."
"Great. Now let me out of this thing so I can get back to her."
"No can do. Like I said, I don't trust you," Samael said pointedly. "You're not leaving this car until we get back to Cold Creek."
"We're driving back to New England?"
Samael shrugged. "Never said it'd be fun, but I don't sleep and this car goes pretty damn fast."
"Fine, but there's a stop I need to make along the way and it could take a while," Hermes muttered, turning on the radio. A pop station came on and Samael made a discontented growling sound.
"Hell, no. There are tapes under the seat."
"Tapes?"
"This car's a classic, baby. None of that USB MP3 bullshit," the angel said proudly. "Think I might buy it."
"I think you'll own it by the time we get back to Cold Creek,” said Hermes. He rummaged through the tapes, grimacing. "Is there anything in here except ACDC?"
"Think there's a Zeppelin tape in there somewhere."
Hermes found the tape and scowled. “’Stairway to Heaven’? Really?"
A shameless grin spread across Samael's face as he kept his eyes on the road. "What can I say? I love a good pun."
"So do I," said Hermes, slipping in a different tape. “But I'd say ‘Highway to Hell’ is far more appropriate."
Chapter 24
Jordan
Jordan's hand was trembling so badly that she could barely work the wolf's head knocker in front of Danbridge Hall. The resulting sound was so faint she doubted anyone within would hear it. Just as she was questioning her presence on the doorstep, the door swung open.
It was Max. With black wet hair over his eyes, the youngest Danbridge looked every bit as surprised to see Jordan as Jordan was to see him. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up, marking the first time Jordan had seen him without a uniform or a suit. She noticed the bandage over his left eye and froze as she realized the likelihood that she had just fled one monster only to end up on another’s doorstep.
“Is something wrong?” Max asked, frowning.
“N—no,” Jordan croaked. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, but if it was him, he was doing a damn good job of pretending like he had no idea she was the one who’d burned him. “I’m sorry. I was just hoping to speak with your aunt.”
“She’s gone. Uncle Lucas said they were going to visit friends in Burlington after the council meeting," Max replied. "They won't be back until Monday."
"Oh," Jordan said, feeling very much like a marionette whose last string had been cut. Her only hope was that she could get away before she fell to pieces on Cindy's doorstep. With Chase’s life hinging on her ability to keep his silent passenger a secret from not only him but th
e others as well, Cindy was the one person she could think to confide in. Even if she could only share a fraction of the truth with her friend.
"You should come in," said Max. "I was just about to have a drink. Looks like we could both use one."
Jordan was still trying to come up with an excuse for refusing when Max pulled her inside before she could argue at all. Before she knew it, they were sitting in the empty parlor. Max rummaged through his uncle’s liquor cabinet and offered Jordan a glass of wine before pouring himself something a lot stronger. Jordan's trembling hands held an empty glass for only a moment before it was full again.
Drinking in the presence of a probably werewolf was foolish, but she was still too shaken from what had happened with Chase to bring herself to care. If Max was the wolf, he’d had plenty of opportunities to get his revenge, and instead, he had saved her life. If he wasn’t, she didn’t need one more person in town thinking she was crazy.
The alcohol was warm in her stomach and its soothing spell grew outwards from there. It did nothing to quell the horror she felt or to ease the sense of violation, but it did make it all seem a little less like her reality.
When Jordan finally dared to look up, Max was watching her intently. She noticed Max was seated so that Jordan couldn't see his left side at all. His nose wrinkled as if he was smelling something unpleasant. “That freak didn’t hurt you, did he?”
"No," Jordan said, startled by the question. “Why would you ask that?”
“Your fiancé has quite the reputation,” Max said bitterly, like fiancé was a curse. “It’s obvious something happened. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
If he had any idea how right he was… “I’m fine. Chase didn’t do anything.”
Not the one she loved, at any rate.
"Are you sure?" Max pressed, leaning forward with the bottle dangling from his hand. "'Cause if he did, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll take care of it.”
From Max's slight slur, Jordan could tell he had started drinking long before she’d showed up. The wild look in Max's eyes also told her that it was no idle, drunken threat. “And how would you do that?” she challenged. It was reckless to get on his bad side. Whether he was a werewolf or merely the nephew of the most powerful man in town, he had the ability to ruin what was left of her life, but at the moment, she didn’t feel like she had a whole lot to lose.
