by Debra Dunbar
Chapter 14
The first angel had been tall and thin with blond curls and androgynous features in an oddly stone-like face. I'd not gotten a good look at Gregory from my brief glimpse in the Wine Bar. Not much beyond his height and dark red curls. I could see why the patrons had mistaken him for an actor. He was over six feet and built like a champion weightlifter. His crossed arms and chest looked ready to burst out of the navy polo shirt. His legs were snug in the acid washed jeans. I wondered what angel wore polo shirts and jeans? Where was the flowing white robe thingie?
His tanned features were clearly masculine in the odd marble-textured face, almost harsh in their angles with a sharp nose and squared jaw. Dark chestnut curls fell around his ears and one dropped on his forehead. The whole effect would have been terribly sexy had it not been for his eyes. They were black. Black as midnight on a moonless night. They looked at me with a mixture of disgust and hatred. I was so scared that I had to consciously keep my energy at the surface ready for defense. I very much wanted to hide. Maybe if I stood really still, he wouldn't see me. Wouldn't see me here, all bloody, in a wrecked house, holding a mangled arm.
"You cockroach," the angel said, his voice oozing cold fury. He actually hissed a bit when he said it, like a snake. I seriously thought I was going to piss my pants. "I spend my time and energy establishing protection for this man, and you lure him over here and get him killed. What a waste." He shook his head at Craig's body, minus the one arm.
"My carefully laid trap, completely ruined by your impulsiveness. How many more will die now? And you have the gall to think you can Own one of us? The arrogance to think you can Own an angel? You miserable, lowly cockroach. I'll squash you like the vermin you are."
He pulled a sword seemingly out of nowhere. A long blade that glowed with a milky iridescence. He grasped it with two hands, and I noticed the guards curved up from the hilt were shining gold angel wings. Was this the sword he used to chop up my kind and reduce us to a pile of sand? Probably. I doubted it was for dicing tomatoes. Either way, I really didn't want to find out what it felt like against my neck.
In desperation, I dropped the pulpy arm and yanked every bit of raw energy I had to the surface hoping I'd at least cause him some pain before he took me out. Even if the sword sucked up most of the energy, maybe there would be enough to knock him sideways and give me a few minutes to try a desperate attempt at escape.
As Gregory took a step toward me there was a deafening roar and the angel shook his head in astonishment. There was Wyatt, his huge grey pistol pointing at the angel. Wyatt, with a combination of fear and resolve on his face, had shot him. With his big grey pistol, he'd had shot an angel point blank in the head. I was torn between admiration at the balls it took to shoot an angel, and a surge of appreciation that Wyatt cared enough to go head to head with one to protect me.
Sadly, a fifty caliber bullet doesn't seem to do much to an angel. Gregory frowned, the sword disappeared, and he shot one hand out to grab Wyatt's wrist and knock the gun to the ground. The other hand went to Wyatt's throat.
It was a perfect opportunity. Over the decades I had managed to store an immense amount of raw energy. I could have shot it in a stream at Gregory and possibly killed him in a massive blast. It would have killed Wyatt too, but that sort of thing never bothered me before. Demons are not sentimental, and as much as I liked Wyatt, my own personal well being should always come before anyone else's. I shouldn't have thought twice. It should have just been an automatic defensive action. Instead, I dropped the energy back within me and launched myself physically at Gregory. He clearly wasn't expecting it. I knocked him to the ground away from Wyatt who slumped beside us clutching his throat. My stupidity continued as I straddled Gregory's huge chest, grabbed his curls with my hands and whacked his head repeatedly on the ground.
"Pick on someone your own size, asshole," I shouted at him. "Leave him alone. He's just a human, you fucking bully." Brilliant. I was so dead.
The angel looked at me with shocked surprise. Yep, I'll bet he never had a crazed demon sit on him and bash his head on the floor before. He reached up, pinned my arms against the sides of my chest and easily tossed me across the floor like a bowling ball. I slid before coming to an abrupt stop against the wall decorated with Craig's blood.
Before I could get my head to function clearly, he had my arms pinned against my chest again and had lifted me up against the wall with my feet dangling, eye to eye with him. It wasn't very dignified, and I really didn't want to look in those dark eyes. I kept trying to pull my energy up, but he was doing something to me. It felt like my energy had a slippery silicon coating on it and I couldn't grab it. I tried and tried, and it slipped away. He just held me there, silent and staring as I struggled, willing me to look at him. I kept my gaze determinedly fixed at his chin and kept trying to pull up some energy. Somehow I managed to grab a small handful and threw it at him. It was a tiny amount, the same that we use to discipline naughty children or disobedient servants, hardly likely to do more than piss him off further. It was the equivalent of smacking him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Bad doggie!
He didn't even budge. Just held me and stared at me until I finally stopped trying to grab my energy and reluctantly looked up at him under my eyelashes. We remained there, looking into each other's eyes while I clenched my jaw to keep from shaking. I wished he'd say something. Something dramatic about what pain and torture he was going to inflict on me or what a horrible nasty cockroach of a being I was. Anything. Anything to distract me from wondering what I was seeing in those black eyes.
"Are you afraid of me, cockroach?" he asked. His voice was deep and oddly seductive. I was far more afraid than turned on, though these two states weren't mutually exclusive for a demon. He didn't seem to want a response. I didn't need to nod. He knew I was scared shitless.
"You should be afraid. You may have been a match for a weakling like Althean, but you are no threat to me at all. You would do no more harm to me than an annoying fly buzzing around my head. I fought in the wars, I was present at the banishment of your kind, I've killed every demon who has faced me since the division of the realms. Far more powerful demons than you have fallen quickly and easily to my sword. Your death would be nothing to me. It would take me no effort at all to end your life, and reduce you to a pile of dirt."
He paused a moment and I could feel him exploring me with his power. It burned as it channeled through my flesh and probed my personal energy. I probably couldn't have blocked him out, but I was surprised that I didn't even try. I just let him poke me and turn me over like an interesting rock he was examining.
"You are just an imp, a baby imp," he commented, his tone filled with curiosity. His examination of me lost its rough edge and took on a note of wonderment. Nervously I guarded my stash of raw energy from him and tried to keep his probing closer to the surface. Pinning me against the wall with one hand, he released my shoulder with the other and put his fingers against my temple. I shook a little wondering if I was about to have angel wings imprinted on my forehead prior to my demise.
"A baby. Simple, and unskilled. Lucky perhaps, but not so powerful after all." He suddenly no longer had that hissing sound in his voice and I hoped that was a good thing. I didn't think it was a good moment to argue that at nine hundred and thirty six human years I was well beyond the age of majority, so I kept my mouth shut.
"I have more pressing matters to attend to than sending you to your grave at this moment, and I think you might prove to be of some use to me," he said.
He gave that a few moments to sink in, then abruptly let go dropping me to the ground. I hadn't expected it, and my legs weren't exactly strong at that moment, so I crashed into a heap. The angel turned to the others. He looked at Wyatt in disgust.
"Her stench, her mark covers you like a dog she owns." He shook his head. "You have free will to do as you choose, but what poor choices you make. Stupid human."
He then walked to Candy who stood st
eady and calm, streaked with blood, her hands and face back to their human form. "You make deals with demons to solve your problems rather than ask other angels for assistance? You have truly lost your way."
She raised her eyebrows and I admired her fortitude. "When have you or your kind ever given us cause to trust you? We have seen none of you, only Althean. Didn't you pay attention at all to what he was doing? Surely you saw his actions, yet you ignored us."
Gregory glared at her. "You should have come to me, or to another angel. Why would you suffer in silence like this? Why would you turn to a demon to help you? We are also bound to work within the terms of your contract, you should have brought this to someone's attention."
"How do we know you don't feel the same?" Candy asked. "We know many think we are Nephilim. How are we supposed to know who to trust? Any of you could feel the same way. Do you blame us for seeking help elsewhere? We rightly assumed that you sanctioned his actions."
I held my breath waiting for Gregory to whip out that sword and proceed to smackdown. Instead, he nodded slowly.
"The Council hasn't decided yet on whether you are Nephilim, and I will not act without their decision," he said, avoiding giving his own personal opinion on the matter.
"We will right this thing," he went on to assure her. "There have been too many innocents killed, and although I deplore your actions, I can see they were made in desperation."
Gregory flicked a hand at the flaming kitchen and the fire died. Instantly. There wasn't even a smoldering coal left. I was willing to bet if I put my hand on the charred island it would be cool. I could do that, but I wouldn't have thought to be so thorough about it. Slowly, he turned and looked at the wreckage of the house.
"Samuel Robinson won't be pleased with the state of his dwelling, little cockroach," he said reproachfully.
Common wisdom says that when you're faced with a being that can kill you three times before breakfast, you should hold your tongue and not aggravate him. So I told him that his friend Goldilocks had done just as much damage as I had. Then I made matters worse by suggesting Robinson use Craig's house since he wouldn't be needing it any more. Candy and Wyatt looked appalled. Gregory frowned.
"It's a much nicer house, he should be thrilled. Plus it's got that amazing hex on it. You did a bang up job on that hex. Melted my hand up past the wrist. "Yep, I'd lowered myself to shameless flattery. Next I'd be groveling before him and licking his boots. It didn't do any good. The angel shook his head and actually turned his back on me.
"Unfortunately, the next area will be Waynesboro where there's a sizable werewolf population," he said to Candy and Wyatt. He was ignoring me. Because I was a cockroach. And not even a fully grown one. A baby cockroach with no skills or power whatsoever and not worthy of the slightest notice.
"It will be difficult to drive him into the direction I want with the short time window we have, so I will be using your help," he continued.
He was clearly going to be some time telling Wyatt and Candy what they were going to do for him, so this cockroach decided to see what beer in the fridge was salvageable and if any magazines remained unburned. The beer was less cold than I preferred, but the broken fridge door had blocked the hottest part of the fire from the inside of the refrigerator. I pulled out fourteen of the coldest beers and found a dented roasting pan to carry them with. The magazines were burned beyond recognition, but before I mourned them I remembered that Wyatt had taken one into the bathroom with him. I walked into the living room, past the lecture in progress and down the hallway to retrieve the magazine. I hoped it was a good one. Again I passed by the others without notice, grabbed the roasting pan full of beer and headed out the backdoor with my stash.
I went all the way down the driveway and around to the spot where we had hidden our cars, then crammed my goodies in the miniscule Corvette trunk, snatching a beer for the road. I chuckled taking a swig of the beer. Evidently, all you needed to do to escape an angel was to get him blathering on about something and just walk right out the door. I wondered if I could make it to the gate near Columbia Mall before he finished talking. I took another swig of the beer, slamming the trunk shut and spinning around to get in and go and smacked my face right into a chest. A really big, hard chest wearing a polo shirt. I choked a little and beer came out my nose and onto the polo shirt. Gregory stood there patiently while I coughed, showering him with beer and snot.
"Shit. Could you not sneak up on a girl like that?" I sputtered, finally able to take a decent breath.
"I think I will need to keep you within my sight at all times, cockroach," he said with a hint of irritation in his voice. "I haven't postponed your execution just to have you run amok burning buildings and desecrating corpses. I have some tasks for you to accomplish before I kill you."
Really motivating speech, I thought, as he took my arm and hauled me back to Robinson's house. I nearly fell, twisting around to lock my car as he pulled me along.
Back in the charred kitchen, a lively discussion broke out about the driving arrangements needed to get back to the motel. Gregory wouldn't let me go anywhere without him. I wasn't driving him in my car, and I wasn't letting Wyatt drive my Vette, so we could all go in Candy's car together. With the driving logistics still unresolved, we began to argue over whether we should spend the night in the motel and head up to Waynesboro fresh, or head up now and hope they even had a motel in Waynesboro where we could shack up. Wyatt had very specific views on what routes we should take to get there. I announced that I had clothes in the washer still, and that I was hungry and wanted pizza. Wyatt offered to pick up pizza in my car, and I told him no. He was not driving my car. That was when Gregory made a frustrated noise, ripped my keys out of my hand and tossed them at Wyatt while grabbing me in a bear hug. Suddenly, we were in front of our motel door. Everything spun around me and I was grateful that Gregory still was holding me against him or I would have pitched right over the railing into the parking lot below.
I'd been through gates many times before. I wasn't as talented as Charon, who actually hired himself out to those not skilled enough to find or cross gates on their own, but I could do it solo, and could even manage some of the wild and Elf gates. We didn't make gates. Elves could create some limited ones, but all the big stable gates were created by the angels. Some wild, natural gates existed, but angels were really the masters of this skill. I'd never done any inter-realm gates. I didn't think we even had any, back home. Plus, this was fast. Super fast and disorienting. It took me a while to feel steady, my vertigo probably made worse by my thinking this angel could crush me like a beer can and fling me over the railing before I could take a breath.
"Are you a Succubus?" Gregory asked, his deep voice rumbling at me through his chest. It was oddly soothing, that sound. I had a strange, tiny urge to do whatever he asked, but quickly shook it off. "You entrance men and women, cleaving them to you as slaves to satisfy your every desire? At first I thought you were just a young trickster imp, but you seem to have this skill."
I snorted. Slaves to satisfy my every desire? Sounded like a great plan to me.
"Oh yeah. The worst Succubus in all of eternity, that's me. I've been pursuing that male human for two years now - two years, and I'm not even to second base with him. If I were a Succubus, my sisters would have had me killed six centuries ago for ineptitude."
Back home I knew several Succubi and Incubi. There weren't a lot of them, thankfully, because they made quite a stir even among our kind. They didn't have a great amount of power, but what they had was very specialized into sexual desire. Popping over here and enthralling humans was a favorite activity. With barely one foot across the gate they'd have a stream of humans of both genders lined up around the blocks to do whatever they wanted. Even back home they were popular choices for households. They had some influence over our own kind and made good negotiators. Good sexual partners too, although they couldn't withstand some of the really crazy stuff.
How on earth could he possibly
think I was a Succubus, though? Even my own kind weren't overly interested in me. He'd surely encountered Succubi before. Was it possible that he was in some weird way attracted to me and was attributing it to an innate power or skill of mine? I clearly had no such skill, so any attraction he felt would be freely generated from himself. I chuckled at the prospect that an angel might have the hots for me. Now that would be funny.
"What level are you then? How many legions do you command?" Gregory rumbled like thunder and velvet against me.
"That's none of your business." I told him, feeling slightly dismayed with myself for not giving him the answers he wanted. I wondered if he was some kind of angel Succubus. Attractive weird human form aside, he did stir something within me. All that power, and a sort of remote coldness. Like he'd been petrified, and the fire inside him was only a spark, buried deep and waiting to burst into renewal. I wondered if he'd ever been unfrozen. What would he be like with the fire breaking through? Intriguing thought, but no way was he getting my name.
American GIs might recite name, rank, and serial number upon capture, but no fucking way I was going to. Names had power, and the fewer of mine anyone knew the better. My level or current place in the hierarchy would allow him to better know my talents, power level, and possibly even discover one or more of my names. Nope.
Besides, I was beginning to think he knew as little about us as we did about them. He was old enough to have fought in the wars, but so much had changed since then. We no longer had legions. No sense in having a standing army when you haven't had a war in over two million years. Plus, we don't have the temperament for that amount of organization. Need had overcome our inclinations during the war, and we'd also had an Iblis, one of us powerful enough to lead and keep a large organizational structure from breaking down. The Iblis kept us operating as a whole toward one goal. That was a remarkable thing for our kind. We hadn't had an Iblis for a very long time. Even the oldest among us didn't have that level of influence. Or really care to.
Gregory sighed and released his hold on me. "Fine," he said, making it clear that we'd revisit this topic again in the future. "Go ahead and open the door then."
I looked at him blankly. "You took my keys and gave them to Wyatt."
He rolled his eyes. "Are you that much of a cockroach? Do you need keys to open a door?"
Oh. Yeah, that's right. Well I had been acting as a human for forty years after all. I reached over and snaked in the energy to click the lock.
We went in, and I began to gather together our belongings, careful to separate Candy's toiletries as she would have wanted. I didn't need two of my traveling party gunning for me. Gregory looked around for a bit, reading the laminated rate sheet and examining the chained remote with bewilderment.
"Why is this plastic rectangle chained to the television set? Is the zinc plated chain somehow integral to its operation?"
"It's a remote control for operating the TV and it uses low level infrared signals." I glanced at the remote while stuffing socks into a plastic bag. "The chain is to deter theft."
Gregory frowned and snapped the chain off the remote, breaking a chunk of the plastic off the end with the ring. "How does this deter theft? Any human with a pocket knife could break this."
I shrugged, agreeing with him and resolving to steal the remote just to annoy the management. Candy would probably get charged for it on her credit card, but she was likely to anyway since the angel had broken part of it off.
"If you think that's perplexing, look at this." I stuck a quarter in the bed and sent it to vibrating. Sure enough, the angel looked astounded.
"It's supposed to enhance a sexual experience," I told him.
"Does it actually work?" he asked in amazement, watching the bags bounce their way across the bedspread.
I shrugged. "Not that I can tell. It is a lot of fun though, and it totally freaks Candy out. Maybe if you were in the act of penetration it might enhance the orgasm. I haven't had sexual intercourse on the bed, so I can't really speak from experience."
Gregory shook his head in disbelief at the bed, and then walked around to see if there were any other unexpected human gadgets to examine. I sat on the bed and let it bounce me around a bit so I felt like I actually got my quarter's worth. It was a short ride.
Done perusing the room, Gregory watched me continue packing with his arms crossed in front of him. I felt like a prisoner. I guess I kind of was. After a few moments, he announced he was going down to check us out. "Stay here," he said ominously.
As soon as he walked out the door, I shoved the remote in a bag and proceeded to dig through Wyatt's things. There. The little toddler gun. I quickly stashed it in my rear waistband pulling the shirt over it. It was tiny, and it's not like Gregory would strip search me or even suspect I'd be packing a human firearm.
I'd put all of our belongings into separate shopping bags when I remembered my laundry. The shirt was still damp in the washer, so I threw it in the dryer hoping a few moments on high heat would finish the job. My mind worked furiously. Screw Candy and this whole werewolf thing. I needed to get away from this angel as soon as possible or I'd be dead. Who knows how long he'd find me useful, and eventually this job would be over and he'd finish what he started at Robinson's house. He was fast, he could gate all over the place in less than a second. I'd have to get away from him without using any energy so he couldn't track me and then head to a gate he wouldn't think to intercept me at. He couldn't guard them all. The one at Columbia Mall might be too far, and I was really scared to use that wild gate in Sharpsburg, although it was the absolute closest. Wild gates could rip you apart, and sometimes they had buffer zones where a traveler could get lost and trapped. Sometimes they spit you out somewhere unexpected. Like across the universe unexpected. Not that I knew this from experience. Obviously.
Forty years I'd been here undetected. I was used to living as a human. I'd watch for a chance to get away, then go underground and head for the gate in Philly or maybe the one near Wichita. I mulled my options wondering if he ever slept when I felt myself grabbed by the shoulder and flung against the cement wall of the motel. I hit hard on my left shoulder. Ow.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I snarled, fixing the dislocated shoulder. Gregory loomed over me with menace. What the hell did I do now? Was it against some angel law to dry your clothes?
"I told you to stay in the room," he hissed at me.
"No," I argued, because that is clearly the thing to do when faced with an enraged angel. "You told me to stay here. I am here. At the motel. Drying my shirt so we can leave." Idiot.
He was hovering over me and breathing heavy, like he'd run around the building a few times, although I think it was more trying to control himself and keep from killing me. I helped him by continuing to sit on the dirty floor looking up at him. I really wanted to get up and punch him, but my minimal self preservation had finally kicked in.
Grabbing at my arm with the fixed shoulder, he hauled me to my feet and held me a few inches off the ground. "I won't lose you," he muttered half to himself. "You will not slip through my grasp. You will not escape me."
I could see him struggle to gain control when, almost as if with a will of its own, he hissed, "Mine."
It was quiet, but the word pulsed with power. Certain words are more than just words. Certain words can carry the strength of all creation. This was one. I used it when I Owned a being, I used it when I claimed territory, when I created a household bond. I had never used it with such power behind it, though. I felt it slam into me and wondered what he'd meant. In what way had he claimed me?
He managed to finally get control of himself and took a big breath. "I really don't want to have to bind you to me. It would hurt a lot and be very unpleasant."
I appreciated his concern for my comfort.
"No," he said, seemingly reading my thoughts. "It would hurt me a lot, and be very unpleasant for me. Pain to you would only bring me great joy."
Well, then. "Look, thi
s was all a misunderstanding. See? I'm right here, drying my clothes. I didn't run away. I didn't try to escape your clutches. If you let me go, I'll just pull the shirt out of the dryer and we'll be on our way. Candy and Wyatt should be here any moment and we can head out. You're really scary, and I'm going to do whatever you say." Okay, maybe the last bit was over the top, but I really wanted him to relax and give me enough slack on the leash to slip my collar and bolt.
He looked suspicious, but he did let go of my arm. I grabbed the shirt, and with an angel trailing behind me I went to the hotel room and gathered our things. We went down to the lobby to wait for Candy and Wyatt. What was taking them so long? Did they stop for pizza? Did Wyatt take off on a joy ride with my car? I fretted over the safety of my car. Wyatt might be my best friend, but I'd kill him if he dented my precious car.
We remained in the lobby, air thick with tension, surrounded by the shopping bags. Gregory sat in the little plastic chair placidly ignoring the young girl at the front desk. Probably the owner's daughter, I thought watching her stare enraptured at the angel. I could have stripped naked and done a pole dance with the gumball machine and she wouldn't have broken her gaze. Maybe if she jumped him in an adoring frenzy I'd be able to make a quick getaway.
Candy and Wyatt pulled up and I inspected my car thoroughly for damage. Wyatt looked me over for damage, too.
"Are you okay, Sam?" he whispered. "What can I do to help? You've got to get away from him."
No shit, Sherlock. I had no idea what he could do to help, but I was formulating a plan.
"Just hang tight with Candy," I told him. "Don't antagonize him. I don't want him to kill you."
I was treated to the joy of watching Gregory cram himself into my passenger seat. Corvettes may be sports cars, but they are American sports cars, made for big oversized Americans. Still Gregory took up more than his allocated share of space. I'm assuming he had to buy two seats when he flew commercial. I took the lead and we headed out of town with Gregory silent and brooding beside me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me with hostility. Was he still pissed about the dryer episode? Or just pissed in general about my existence?
Gregory's leg was encroaching on the stick shift and I kept grabbing it instead of the shifting lever. It happened a lot, and I swear I was not doing it on purpose. It was like grabbing a block of cement. Still, I couldn't help but be a bit turned on.
I wondered if I could snake my hand up further and get in a quick grope before he removed my arm from my body. I wondered what angel genitals felt like. Did they even have genitals? Maybe they were anatomically like Ken dolls. I hadn't noticed any bulges, even while I was pressed against him through the gate, but I didn't think I was his idea of a potential sexual partner. The thought of sex with me probably left him cold and flaccid. Actually, the thought of sex with me probably hadn't even crossed his mind. Angels probably did it in some ethereal way that didn't involve genitals. Some kind of sterile, esoteric sexual experience. I imagine it was horribly boring. Maybe I could convince him to do it the human way. Or the demon way. I fantasized for a moment about a threesome with the angel and Wyatt. Like that would ever happen. This was not a good train of thought for me to be having.
"How did you manage to survive Wyatt shooting you in the head? That would probably have killed me, but you hardly moved. You didn't even bleed." I was curious, and I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter.
He gave me a disgusted look. "You are too imbedded in your physical form, almost like a human. If you hold yourself apart more, these things couldn't affect you. Of course, I wouldn't expect a demon to have the self discipline to do that sort of thing."
Jerk. "Ah, so that's why your form sucks so bad, then. I thought maybe you just weren't skilled enough to create and hold a decent physical form. I wouldn't expect an angel to have the aptitude for that sort of thing."
He glared. "For someone so close to death, you are surprisingly insubordinate."
Yikes. I needed a distraction before I got myself even further into trouble, so I turned on the radio. It may sound weird, but I'm a sucker for 1970's-era love songs, so that's what I put on. I bopped along to Temptation Eyes, then heard familiar opening notes.
"Oh, I love this one," I announced.
Samantha Martin, the human Samantha Martin had a nice set of pipes. She was in church choir when she was young, and was a darned good amateur singer before I Owned her. If they'd have had American Idol back then, she would have at least made it on the show. I Owned an opera singer too, but that skill didn't come up much. I sing whenever I get a chance. In the shower, in the car, karaoke in bars. Sometimes I just sing randomly because it freaks people out. So it was nothing for me to perform car karaoke right now. Even with an angry, pouty, potentially violent angel sitting beside me.
"When it all goes crazy and the thrill is gone?"
It was "Just Remember I love You" by Firefall. I loved this song. Mushy, sentimental, perfect for serenading an angel. I grinned at Gregory and he looked back at me, a combination of amazement and anxiety on his face. He looked like I'd just sprouted two heads and scales. Of course, that he'd probably seen before.
I continued to sing along, belting out the chorus before turning my eyes back to the road. Gregory scooted a little away from me, a look of near terror on his face. It's not like he could scoot far, though. He was supersized and my car was too small for distance.
The station was really on a roll. I continued to serenade him with "Band of Gold" and "Don't Pull Your Love Out On Me Baby" but turned the channel when they played "Jackie Blue". I never liked that song.
"I had you pegged for a Slayer fan, cockroach," he commented in a strangled voice, as if the whole experience was more than he could handle.
"Slayer? I can't understand a damned word they are singing. It's all 'bwaa, rhaa, whaa, grrr, grrr, grr'. What the fuck does that mean? I'd rather listen to harpies wail than that shit."
He nodded his head in agreement and I'd swear I saw his lips twitch. No way he could actually be amused. At least I'd managed to put him in a less hostile mood with my unusual music tastes. Good thing as we pulled out of town and onto Route 15 south. I glanced at Wyatt and Candy behind me in the rear view and put the pedal to the metal. In a roar, I had dusted them.
The highway was two lanes each way with a decent shoulder all the way into Montgomery County, Maryland. This time of day the cars were evenly spaced with a good bit of commercial truck travel along the route. I weaved in and out of traffic, honking rudely, darting around cars, cutting off the semis and passing on the shoulder. Today, I wished that I'd bought the red model Corvette instead.
I was glad Gregory didn't know anything about roads, or he would have wondered why I didn't take the shorter way down 116. Wyatt was probably in Candy's car looking at his GPS and bitching and moaning about the extra distance of my chosen route. Route 116 was shorter, much prettier, and there was not much traffic. This way would take us on the busy highway back tracking down into Maryland, then through Emmitsburg to loop back into Pennsylvania on Route 16. I looked over at the angel to see if his improved mood had survived our increase in speed.
"Shouldn't you keep your eyes on the road?" Gregory asked me. He didn't look pissed. He probably thought I was trying to shake him up with my crazy driving. I wondered if he had ever been in a car before. Probably not, if he could gate everywhere. I doubted he'd ever driven, either. That would make him an auto virgin. I laughed out loud at the idea.
"You know, you can't kill me by wrecking your car," he commented in that bored voice. "You'll just destroy your vehicle. I won't suffer more than a scratch. Won't slow me down at all. You're not going to get away from me so you might as well drive like a normal person." He actually leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as if my erratic driving methods were putting him to sleep.
I continued to drive like a possessed maniac. Stupidly, it took nearly five miles before I saw the flashing lights behind me. Good thing as we
were almost at the Maryland border. I kept driving a bit, weaving aggressively but trying to keep the speed down so I didn't lose the state trooper struggling to keep up. Finally, I pulled over into an old abandoned gas station, spinning out dramatically with a rooster tail of gravel dust.
"Looks like I'm going to get a ticket," I said. Gregory frowned at me with narrowed, suspicious dark eyes. "I was speeding, you know. Happens to me all the time. It will only take a minute and we'll be on our way."
The Pennsylvania state police car behind us was a big white sedan. A huge Crown Victoria with the trooper badging all over and the light rack on top. It was a stupid car. If I were a state trooper, I'd make them get me a Ferrari.
The guy behind the wheel took his time getting out. I wondered what in the hell was taking him so long. Did he have to fill out fifteen pages of reports before he even got out of his car? Finally, he opened the door and slid out. He was a young guy. Thin and fit in his grey shirt and dark grey pants. He wore short sleeves in the heat, and the shirt had black fringed thingies on the shoulders. He had a hat on with a chin strap, and I could tell his hair was a short buzz cut underneath. I couldn't really see if he was cute or not, but he had a good body, and looked damned sweet in that uniform.
The cop walked up carefully from the rear of the car, flicking the leather strap on his pistol holster for easy access. He also had a baton, and some pepper spray handy and ready. The baton wasn't a big deal, but I hoped he didn't spray me with the pepper spray. I hate that shit. I unwound the window before he got there, and just as he leaned in, I pulled out my mean and threw it at him while simultaneously pulling the pistol from my waistband and laying it on my lap. I put every bit of menace I had into my voice and announced that he was a fucking pig and I was going to knock him on his ass.
It had the desired effect. The cop leapt back from the car and pointed his pistol at my head screaming "Out of the car! Out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them." I looked curiously at his gun, but didn't recognize it. I was hardly the expert from seeing Wyatt's small collection, but thought maybe I could recognize the caliber. The trooper waved his gun at me, again indicating that I needed to get out right now. Or presumably he would shoot me.
I smiled smugly at Gregory and he glared back at me in open hatred. Carefully, I opened the car door, letting the gun drop to the floor of the car while keeping my hands raised. Gregory got out too, and I realized he was doing something to try and soothe the officer and me. He was talking to the police guy in a low calm rumble and I swear I actually saw the deep blue wash over us both. It pulled and tugged on me with warm persistence, and I wanted to leave the cop alone and get back in the car. I wanted to rub myself on Gregory like a cat and have him look at me approvingly. Fuck no, I didn't want to do any of that shit. No fucking way. I shrugged off the urge and glared at the officer again. The cop looked confused and began to lower his gun.
"You fucking pig," I snarled at him, trying to regain control of the situation. "I've killed cops before and I'll kill you too. I'll blow your fucking head off." I took a few steps toward him.
Gregory redoubled his efforts and the air was thick and sweet with blue. I saw the officer shake a bit, sweat rolling down his forehead. The poor guy would be in therapy for years from this. Fuck, I'd probably be in therapy for years from this. The urge to kneel down at the angel's feet and wrap myself around him was nearly overwhelming.
The cop was slipping from my grasp though and I knew I needed to go all out. I walked up to the officer and slugged him right in the jaw. Not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to override all the calming blue shit. It worked. The guy grabbed me and slammed me face first against my car, yanking my arms behind me to cuff me. In a few moments, I'd be on my way to the police station. I could kill the cop, ditch his car, and be on my way to a gate while Gregory cooled his heels at some local station waiting for me to make bail.
The angel kept pressing his calming influence to no avail. The cuffs were on, and I was halfway to the police car, when Gregory threw up his hands, reached out and grabbed the cop. I felt him let me go and turned to see the angel whispering in his ear. In an instant he had slumped and Gregory held him upright, moving to put him back in his car. I quickly broke the cuffs, and bolted. Plan B.
I like to run. I'm not fast off the block, but I can go forever and keep a strong steady pace. The angel was a huge hulk of muscle. I hoped he wouldn't be able to keep up and I'd somehow lose him. He couldn't find me to gate to me if I kept my energy to myself.
Unfortunately, I only made it about twenty feet before he tackled me from behind. I smacked into the gravel and slid across it with his considerable weight on top, scraping a good layer of skin off my face and body, and knocking the breath out of me. For good measure, he flipped me over on my back and punched me in my stomach.
Looking up at him, gasping for breath, I realized that he'd totally lost control. His face was white and solid looking without pores in the skin, and blackness filled the entirety of his eyes. His teeth were no longer human, but sharp pointed little spikes, like piranha teeth. He actually glowed. Seriously glowed. He was so bright it burned my eyes. There was nothing in him but rage. Not a speck of feeling I could appeal to. Nothing but fury and hate. I grabbed my energy and prepared to empty the whole lot at him. It would probably blow a chunk out of the lower half of the state, but I might as well kill him along with myself. Better than me dying alone.
His eyes widened with the realization of what I was about to do, and he smacked me hard across the face before I could even begin to form the blast. The blow knocked my head sideways and caused my grasp to slip a little. Enough of a slip for him to coat that silicone stuff over my energy again.
"Oh no you don't, cockroach," he hissed at me through those pointy teeth. "Hold still," he commanded, grabbing my arms by the wrists and thrusting them up above my head.
Oh, sure. 'Hold still while I kill you.' Like that was going to happen. I wasn't sure if he was going to execute me straight away or beat the crap out of me first, but I figured it was going to be excruciating either way. I wasn't going down without a fight. I thrashed around with all my strength to see if I could budge him loose from on top of me. I even tried to knee him in the groin, assuming that would do anything. Wrenching one hand loose I flung a handful of gravel and dirt into his face. He shook his head and grabbed, unsuccessfully trying to secure my loose hand while at the same time attempting to pin my legs down with his. I bucked like a wild bull and smacked him with the little bits of energy that I could form. It was all I could manage to break free from the slippery shell he held in place around my energy.
After a few minutes of this, he hissed in frustration, grabbed me roughly around my waist and flung me over his shoulder. My breath whooshed out as my diaphragm smashed against his shoulder and my head bounced on the concrete of his back. While I frantically tried to recover, he began striding off toward the abandoned gas station and my car. Gasping little breaths, I squirmed, kicked and hit and scratched with all my might. Unaffected, he continued on, tightening his grip painfully around my waist to make sure I didn't manage to wiggle free. Wyatt and Candy were far behind us, not that they could intervene at this point. My mind worked furiously trying to find some way to break his hold, to get enough energy to knock him aside, to do anything, for surely I was going to die real soon. I'd tire physically, and without the use of my energy he had all the advantage.
Suddenly, he shrugged me off his shoulder and slammed my back against the cement block side of the building. My head spun again and I felt the warmth of blood sliding down the back of my skull and onto my neck. Without allowing me even a second to move, he pressed himself against me, crushing me between his body and the gritty, pebbled concrete wall. I felt the stone embed itself into the torn flesh of my head and ground my teeth with the pain. At this rate, I'd be a shredded bloody mess by the time he finished me off.
Slowly and carefully he transferred my wrists to one hand, yanking th
em above my head and pinning them to the wall. With his other hand, he maneuvered my hips, straddling me and pinching my legs between his own. Within seconds, I was held immobile between him and the building. The only thing still free was my head, so I tried to head butt him and bite whatever part of his face came within range. He was a good foot taller than me, so the best I could do was a light tap on his chest with my forehead before he grabbed my jaw with his free hand and held my head still. At least he didn't have a third hand to whip out his sword. Of course, he could always bring that item out after I was a bloody mess on the ground.
He held me in place and looked at me a moment, hissing with those pointy teeth, his eyes still huge, black, and horrifying. I hurt. I knew my face was a mass of road rash, could feel the blood trickle from my cheeks and down the back of my head in a slow drip. My arms were extended up at their limit with the joints straining uncomfortably in their sockets. My chest was heaving against his with tiny short breaths, and sharp chunks of concrete dug painfully into my back with the pressure of his body against mine. I was at the point of panic. I was trapped, and there was no way out. My mind helpfully imagined all the ways he could dispatch me in this position. He could rip my arms from their shoulder sockets, crush my jaw, dislocate my pelvis, pulverize my bones and organs against the side of the building, and then shred my flesh with his pointy teeth before finishing me off with the sword. That's how I would do it.
He took a breath, then he wrenched my head to the side facing my left arm, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye as he bent his head down. I felt an odd sense of disappointment that I wouldn't get to see him rip me to bits. Anticipating popping joints and tearing flesh, I took a quick breath and tensed. The feeling that came was like a thousand hot needles as he bit down on me, right on the soft underside of my arm, just in front of my armpit. My shoulders ached, but stayed in joint. This was going to take forever if he was going to concentrate primarily on chewing me up. My faint hopes for a quick death vanished, and I felt him bite down harder.
A burning sensation shot down into my chest and a mixture of vibrations shook me. Was there some poison in his bite? Was it that white stuff that Althean had shot at me? Would my insides dissolve like my hand had? It burned clear through my flesh and into my personal energy, branching out and searing tiny pathways. "This is it," I thought, my mind blurring from the agony tearing through me.
Then unexpectedly, underneath the pain, a far more enjoyable heat surged through me. Pleasure and pain are not mutually exclusive to my kind, and sex frequently involves what humans would consider abuse. Even so, I didn't believe the angel intended to kill me in an act of rough sex. The warmth flooded me and the burning pathways in my personal energy filled with an electric glow. Reddish purple soared through my being. 'Mine' I thought silently as I floated in the stream of color. It was a faint and fleeting thought, without intent or power; almost like an echo from someone else. Strange.
I didn't think revealing my strange state of sexual arousal would do my current situation any good, but I couldn't help the quick gasp and relaxation of my body as tension fell away and I ceased trying to struggle. Well, at least I'd be easier to kill now. And death would be a hell of a lot more fun.
The angel paused for a second, then pushed himself harder against me ensuring I was held fast and continued with the hot needles in my arm. The pain was quickly changing over to pleasure and I wanted to give in to the incredible sensation. Dissolving in a huge wet orgasm at the point of death seemed like an undignified way to go out so I tried to think of things like zoning hearings, taxes, when my next oil change was due. Anything but the red purple waves singing through me. Shit, I hope he killed me soon, this was taking fucking forever and I was running out of boring things to think of.
Floating in the pleasure, I was halfheartedly daydreaming about useless kitchen utensils when I felt a pull deep within me. Like strings had been embedded throughout my body and the angel was trying to draw them out. At first it didn't hurt, then the strings stopped moving and Gregory began to yank, pulling with increasing irritation and frustration. Finally, there was an agonizing pressure, like he was digging in on a tug of war contest with all his might. The strings didn't budge, but it felt like my whole body was about to turn inside out. Then there was a crack and snap as everything rebounded into me. It was a good thing I was held so firmly against the building because I probably would have fallen ten feet backwards from the release. I waited for it to begin again, but I only felt a stinging sensation and that familiar warmth as Gregory bit down again.
An eternity seemed to pass before he finally lifted his mouth from my arm. I felt him stare at me, although I couldn't see him clearly with my head held sideways against the wall. "Here it comes," I thought. My bitten arm throbbed. I held my breath, waiting for my death. Slowly, he loosened his grasp and relieved the pressure holding me against the wall. I didn't know what was coming, so I dropped my arms from their achingly extended position and stood there, looking at the front of his shirt and trying to slow my breathing. Finally, he took my arm, the one he hadn't been gnawing on, and walked me over to the police car. That was it? A chewed up arm? Perhaps he was going to continue the job over here?
"Fix yourself," Gregory commanded, pushing me to sit on the ground beside the car while he reached in and finished whatever he was doing to the cop. I was pretty sure the cop was dead. I wondered if he was sticking angel wings on his forehead too. Covering this one up and making it look like the cop had it coming. So much for benevolent messengers of the gods.
I had scrapes down the front from my slide across the gravel; my face was raw, bloody, and was bruised and swollen from his blow. My wrists hurt from the handcuffs, my shoulders ached from being held at that impossible angle, and the bite still burned and throbbed in an enjoyable kind of pain. I was a fucking mess. I wasn't sure I could fix myself right now, I was shaking so badly. Why wasn't I dead? And why did he bite me like that? What the fuck was that about?
Gregory put some finishing touches on the cop, who appeared to be asleep in his squad car, then turned to me. He looked me over and shook his head, his face still grim but no longer glowing with pointy teeth and huge black eyes.
"Fine. I really don't care what you look like, or if you bleed all over your seats. You will get in your car with me, and you will drive to Waynesboro. You will obey all the human traffic laws or I will destroy your vehicle and slowly break every bone in your body. Repeatedly. Over the course of several days. Do you understand?"
I nodded. And we drove to Waynesboro in silence. No singing. Fifty five the whole way.
