Immortal

by ML Guida

  The sun shone brightly on her hanging pink and white bougainvilleas on either side of the door. Below the hanging tropical plants, in a clay pot, her red begonias, the flowers as big as a rose and her dark purple lobelias seemed to stretch to feel the sun’s rays. Her flowers filled her with a sense of peace, away from the office, she transformed to another place, but Mattie had always been there, lying by her side as she planted each of her pots carefully.

  Pinching her lips tighter, Heather gripped Scythe’s hand and allowed him to lead her inside. She strained to hear the familiar thump upstairs whenever she woke Mattie from a deep sleep, but no scratching toe nails echoed on the hardwood floors. Dread filled her every pore. Where was she?

  “This isn’t right,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I always leave a light on for Mattie in case I work late.” She refused to admit that she hated coming home to a dark house. She’d seen too many scary movies where women walked into a dark house and got their throats slit. “Somebody’s been here.”

  “Maybe you forgot.”

  She glanced at Scythe’s face, but looking at it, she knew not even he believed what he said. He knew something. After all, he was a dark angel.

  “Come on,” he whispered.

  Her limbs trembled and her teeth chattered. She edged close to him. Her heart beat so hard she was afraid the bad guy would hear it. Not just any bad guy, not the Boogieman, but an angry, hateful demon. Why would Blade kill her sweet little dog? Mattie had never hurt anyone. She’d bark but only in her own yard. Out on walks, if a car backfired, or a motorcycle roared by or a big dog walked toward them, she’d run around Heather’s legs, wrapping her leash around her. More than once, Heather had fallen over.

  Heather’s heart ached. Tears threatened to burst. She took a deep breath. Trepidation sucked into her gut. Please, God, let her be alive.

  Scythe kissed her hand. “It will be okay, Heather.”

  She wanted so desperately to believe him, but what if he was wrong? Where was Mattie? “She never hides like this.”

  Edging deeper into the house, no thick red liquid stained her white porcelain tile in the entryway or the hardwood floors in the living room or stairs. Her adobe painted walls in the kitchen and living room were clean, but there was something on her maroon couch. A sinking feeling hit her stomach and her legs wobbled.

  “The couch,” she whispered in a puny child-like voice.

  “What?”

  She pointed. Her green, white, and orange afghan and the Mickey Mouse blanket were balled up in the corner of the sofa and covered a small lump. Scythe looked at her. His jaw set tight and his cheek flexed. “Stay here.”

  For once, she obeyed. Panting, she clasped her hands together tight.

  Scythe walked over to the couch without hesitation. He clutched the blanket in his hand and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”

  Perspiration dripped down her temples. Her breath caught in her lungs and she couldn’t exhale. She nodded. Please, God.

  He yanked back the blankets. A brush of air escaped from her lips. The Direct channel changer, the DVD channel changer and three white leather pillows lay on top of each other, almost as if someone had placed them there.

  “I didn’t leave them there,” she croaked. “I always put the channel changers on top of the TV so I can find them.” She stared into Scythe’s silver eyes. “Who would do this?”

  “I’ll check upstairs. You—”

  “No, I’m coming with you.”

  Before Scythe could move, Heather darted up the stairs. Scythe’s heavy footsteps pounded after her. Once again, nothing red marred her wooden floors. Hope started form in her mind. Maybe Mattie was asleep. Maybe….

  Heather screamed. Louder than she had ever had. Strong arms gripped her and whirled her around. She dug her nails into Scythe’s chest. Her body trembled. Trying to hold on, not believing what she had seen.

  “I’m sorry,” Scythe whispered. He held her tightly against him, his masculine scent trying to overcome the horror she’d seen, but nothing could block out what she saw on her bed. Mattie! Her poor sweet dog! What kind of person could do that! Hurtful, angry sobs tore through her. She pounded on Scythe’s chest. “Why! Why would anyone do that to her? She was such a sweet baby.” With each word, she hit him harder. “Why? Why? Why?”

  Gripping his arms, she arched her back. “Mattie! Mattie!”

  “Heather, Heather, listen to me.”

  Scythe’s voice cut through her growing hysterics.

  Heather shook her head. She didn’t want to be calm. She wanted to fight. She wanted to kill Blade. Do to him what he had done to her sweet little dog; what he did to her poor sister.

  She broke free from Scythe and darted into her bedroom. Mattie lay on her bed. Blood drenched her white bedspread. Her little tongue hung out of her bleeding mouth, and her wide brown eyes stared up at the ceiling in terror. Someone had repeatedly stabbed her with a sword and left the sword buried in her chest. The weapon pinned poor Mattie to her bed. Her legs dangled lifeless to the side. Blood darkened her buff color, changing her into a red cocker spaniel.

  A mixture of grief, anger, and hate flooded Heather. She fell to her knees. Her stomach lurched, and she threw up on her already stained pink, white carpet. Didn’t her stupid neighbors hear anything? Not even a Stephen King novel prepared her for this.

  Panting, she whispered, “Oh God, I don’t think I can handle this.”

  Scythe knelt next to her. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She sagged into him, his grip tightened and indulged in the protectiveness flowing through him, wishing he could make everything better. She glanced up. “I love her so much. She’s my best friend. She didn’t deserve to die like this.”

  He didn’t answer and held her close, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I can heal her.”

  She jerked her head. “What?”

  He ran his fingers down her cheek, and she shivered. The look he gave her took her by surprise. For a tough dark angel, tears glistened in his eyes. He must have seen death over and over again, but a tear threatened to slip out of his eye. “It’s against the rules. Forbidden.” He gritted his teeth. “Oh, hell, Michael can deal with it.”

  Too stunned to move, she watched him stand. He held his hand over her dead dog. A white light flickered from his fingertips, growing brighter and larger, descending on Mattie. The silvery brilliance overshadowed the room.

  Heather shielded her eyes. She couldn’t make out what was happening. Warmth bathed Heather like the soft rays of the morning sun. Peacefulness washed away her hysterics, and all she wanted to do was remain in the light. Nothing bad could happen in the radiance.

  Heather arched her back and raised her arms over her head, allowing the serenity to heal her, taking all her pain away. Tingles ran from her toes all the way to her fingers. A calmness she had never felt filled her. She actually believed she could walk on air.

  The illumination faded, along with the feelings of euphoria. An empty pain filled her heart as all the negative feelings of anger, fear, doubt, and sadness returned. In the light, they hadn’t existed. “What happened?”

  A low growl that turned into a high pitch bark brought tears of happiness to her eyes. Mattie stood on the bed, snarling at Scythe. Her ears hung down on either side of her face. No blood marked her buff fur. Her brown eyes were alert. The sword had vanished.

  “Mattie.” Heather jumped on the bed. Mattie darted, but Heather caught her. She held her tight and buried her face into her fur, smelling her familiar scent. She wept. “You’re alive.”

  No one had ever done anything so unselfishly for her. She hadn’t asked him to do this, but he had done it. What would happen if he broke the rules? He went against Michael, the Archangel, for her? She couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

  Scythe sat next to her. “She won’t remember anything.”

  She inhaled deeply, taking in his masculine scent. She co
uld feel her pulse quicken in her throat, and her mouth turned dry. Warmth spread through her, and goosebumps broke out all over her arms. A whirl of emotions—fear, admiration, love—filled her for what Scythe had done for her. Had he done this because she was his angel-mate? Tears welled in her eyes as she hugged Mattie. “Thank you.” Her voice choked.

  He nodded, his face grim.

  She sat, pulling Mattie with her. Deep down she detested following his gaze, but she forced herself. She sucked in her breath. The nightmare continued. The bright bathroom light shined on the mirror. Bloody words —“You’re next”—were written on her mirror. Trickles of crimson drizzled down from each letter.

  “It’s not safe here,” Scythe said.

  Still hugging Mattie, Heather looked at him. “No shit.”

  He glared. “I need to get you someplace isolated where I can lure Blade.”

  She frowned. “What about my clients? If he’s—”

  “He’s beyond that now. You don’t get it do you? All this…” He motioned his hand around the room. “Your clients, your sister, it’s all about you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Blade believes you killed his angel-mate.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  She stuck out lower chin and stood in front of Mattie who growled. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You had a client—Robert Selleck? Ring a bell?”

  She hung her head. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “He was the first one you painted.”

  “I didn’t know what I was doing then.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I know, but you cost somebody her life.”

  Guilt and remorse rushed over Heather. She remembered that awful night. “Samantha Brown.” Tears streaming down her face, Heather raised her head. “She-she was Blade’s angel-mate?”

  Her voice choked.

  “He hadn’t said the words or claimed her yet.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Michael had sent him on another case. Told him it was urgent.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  Scythe shrugged. “Michael didn’t think she was his mate.”

  “So, he had her killed?”

  “No, she was slated to die.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You were there, weren’t you?” Her deepening tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

  He winced. “Yeah, I was.”

  “So, you did the same thing to Blade you did to me.”

  Sorrow flickered in his eyes. “I’m so glad we’re having this conversation again.”

  “You stood by and watched her die and did nothing. Again.”

  “Heather, I can’t go against orders.”

  Wagging her tail, Mattie rested her head on Heather’s lap. Heather petted her to keep from shaking Scythe. Didn’t he understand the anguish he created? She could understand Blade, but it didn’t justify what he had been doing. She looked at Mattie. “Wait, a minute. You went against the rules.”

  He peered through the plantation blinds. “We’ve got to get out of here.” His hard voice sent chills down her spine.

  “What will,” she gulped. “God or Michael do?”

  He grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”

  An over sense of dead sent goosebumps up and down her arms. She didn’t want him hurt, not because of her. “Will they hurt you?”

  He motioned toward the door. “Heather, let’s move.”

  She broke free of his arm. “No, tell me.”

  “Heather, you’re my angel-mate. Plain and simple.”

  She frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I protect what’s mine.” His soft voice and smoldering gaze were like a caress, spurring feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

  She crossed her arms. “Oh. Have you had other mates before?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. Angels only get one mate.”

  She took a ragged breath. “So, Blade’s is dead?”

  “Not according to Michael. Michael insists Samantha was not his mate. There’s someone else destined for him.”

  “But Blade doesn’t believe it. He blames me?”

  He wanted to kiss her pain away. “Unfortunately, yes. Remember the Book of the Dead?”

  “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. There’s one with angel-mates listed for angels.”

  “Not exactly. The names don’t appear in the book until the two meet.”

  “What?”

  “God knew angels would seek the book to find their mates instead of fulfilling his commands so the names only appear now after the two have met.”

  “You’re kidding? God?”

  “Yeah.” He studied her. “No, I’m not kidding.” He leaned closer. “What? You believe the devil exists, but not God?”

  “Well, uh…”

  He shook his head. “That’s the problem. The devil created doubt which easily leads humans astray.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck shot up. “You’re serious?”

  “I never joke about this.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. “An angel could lose his job.”

  She liked the way he tasted. His eyes twinkled and his lips turned up into a grin. She slapped him in the arm. “You’re teasing, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I am and you fell for it.”

  She couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “Stop that.”

  “I wanted to see you smile again. You’re even more beautiful when you smile.”

  “Why wouldn’t Raphael heal Samantha?”

  “He aligned with Michael.”

  “That’s why Blade fell?”

  “Yeah.”

  Agony gripped his voice. She clasped his hand. “I’m sorry.

  “If I can get Blade to Raphael…”

  “Then everything would return to normal?”

  Without flinching, he gazed into those brown eyes. “No.”

  “But Raphael could raise Samantha?”

  “Yeah, he could. But he won’t. Once a human enters hell or heaven, he or she can never leave. Those are God’s rules and unbreakable.”

  She stroked Mattie’s silky fur. “But you healed Mattie?”

  “I said human, not animal.”

  A key rattled in the front door and the door opened. Mattie let out a slow growl. All her fur stood on edge. Heather grabbed the dog’s chain and yanked. “Mattie, no.”

  “Ms. Bowen,” a voice called. “Are you here?”

  Heather froze. Shit! Mason. How the hell did he get a key?

  “Come on.” Scythe grabbed her hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She followed Scythe out of the bedroom. Mattie darted in front of them and stopped. The hair on her hackles too straight up She pulled back her lips and snarled.

  Scythe skidded to a stop.

  “What’s wrong? Mattie, shut up.” Heather bent down and picked up Mattie. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Uneasiness crept into her voice.

  Footsteps came running up the stairs. Mason emerged clutching a black sword in his hand. His eyes blazed red.

  Fear paralyzed Heather’s heart and lungs. She clutched Mattie tighter. “It was you?”

  Mason chuckled. “I see you got my message.”

  Scythe looked behind him. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Hewitt?” He shrugged. “Dead.”

  He squinted his eyes and flashed her a hard smile. “Why?” His sarcasm sent chills down the back of her neck.

  Mattie barked and growled.

  Mason glared. “Shut that mutt up or I’ll hurt her again.”

  Heather tightened her arms around Mattie and took a step back. Mattie trembled, barked and squirmed, digging her tiny nails into Heather’s arms. Heather tilted her chin. “No, you won’t.”

  Scythe stepped in front of her and Mattie. “Mason, leave or you’re dead.”


  Mason laughed, tossing his head back. “Yeah right. Don’t threaten me. You can’t kill me unless Michael orders it.”

  Heather put her hand on Scythe’s broad back, needing to feel his strength. “Get us out of here.”

  Mason twirled the sword in his hand. “Ah, he didn’t tell you? After healing someone an angel can’t warp out of here. Have to rejuvenate. Can’t even produce a heaven blade.”

  Heather swallowed the fear bubbling in her throat. “Is that true?”

  Not looking at her, Scythe mumbled. “Afraid so.”

  Heather glared. “This was a trap?”

  Mason bowed his head and stretched out his arms. “Of course.”

  “How did you get here so fast?” Scythe asked.

  “Blade. You’re not the only one who can teleport.”

  Scythe scanned the room. “Where is he?”

  “I believe he said he was going to the coffee shop to wait for his next client.” He tapped his chin. “I believe it’s Susan.”

  Heather sucked in her breath. “Why? She hasn’t done anything.”

  “Not anymore. She’s about to kill someone.”

  Heather wanted to strangle Mason. “You bastard!”

  Scythe crouched in front of Heather, ready to pounce. “Why did you take the drug?”

  “Your brother is very persuasive. Immortality isn’t something I could pass up.”

  Heather stared at the black sword in his hand. It had to be a hellish sword, the same one that almost killed Scythe. Blade wasn’t kidding. He really wanted his brother dead. “Did you ever think he was lying?”

  “Of course, but he proved it to me several times.” A slow chilling smile spread across his face. “Oh and one more thing. He told me how to kill a dark angel.”

  Heather could feel the blood drain from her face. They were so dead.

  Chapter 14

  Heather stared the hell sword––one cut and Scythe was dead. A shiver of fear whooshed down her back.

  She glared at Mason and spread her legs apart. She’d taken karate for a while and if Mason came near her, he’d better protect his family jewels or he’d be speaking in a high voice.

  Scythe crouched and balled his fists, ready to attack.