The Fallen- Part One

by Grace McGinty

  But warring with the loss and the anger that normally colored Memphis’ emotions was that soft feeling again. Not quite love, or passion, or respect. It was something shinier than that. It almost felt like hope.

  “I am here because I want to be here. That is all.” His deep voice rumbled through my bones, and down to some of the happier parts of my body. Memphis had a voice that could tempt you into sinning.

  I closed my eyes and relaxed back into my pillows. “That's not really an answer,” I grumbled, but let it go. The less alone with my thoughts I was, the better off I would be. “If you are going to loiter around the place, you should tell me about yourself.”

  Memphis walked to the darkest corner of my light drenched room. “There is not much to tell.”

  “Well, I refuse to let you stand there in dark corners like a floor lamp, so make something up,” I argued quietly. Last thing I needed was for the nurses and the beat cop thinking I was going nuts, talking to myself.

  “What would you like to know?” he said, leaving his place to sit in the chair beside the bed. His emotions told me he was annoyed, probably from being compared to a piece of interior decor.

  Hmm, what did you ask a Fallen angel? I knew the general story of how they fell. The Hell version. They got kicked out for questioning the status quo. Ace always painted them as revolutionaries for every being having a choice. Luc didn't talk about it. I had a feeling there was more to it than either side let on.

  Actually, when Ace told the story, it was always her and Luc, Gusion and Memphis against Heaven’s legions. She made them sound close, inseparable appendages of the same being.

  “You and Ace were a thing?”

  Memphis actually looked embarrassed, which means his brows lowered and he shifted to stand primarily on his other foot. Nothing in his visage actually changed. Empathic abilities for the win. “A long time ago now. We have thousand of years of friendship behind us. Of companionship. But there is never any doubt that Acerezeal loves only Lucifer. Their relationship exceeds the human concept of love. We were merely diversions to waste away the years. Hell can be lonely. And that was over decades ago now,” he qualified in one long rush, and I put my hands in the air.

  “That's your business.” I was glad I was the only empath in the room, because I felt a strange mish mash of jealousy and relief. “Want to ask me something? A tit for tat kind of thing?”

  Something about Memphis’ stern control made me want to tell him things, to shock him into feeling something.

  “How long have you been an empath?”

  “Since I was born,” I answered automatically, before slamming a hand over my mouth. Then belatedly realizing my jaw was broken when waves of pain shot up and down my face. “Fuck!” I screamed. Memphis was on his feet, looking down at me helplessly.

  “Should I call the nurse?”

  I let out a low moan. “No. There's no antidote from stupid unfortunately.” The pain started to ebb excruciatingly slowly. “What I should have said was that I have no idea what you’re talking about. But how did you know?”

  Memphis curled and uncurled his hands, and my eyes were drawn to the gesture, to his long fingers, to how shiny his nails were. Each one was perfection. “It is my,” he hesitated over the words, “ability to know people's darkest secrets. It is what makes me such a horror to humanity. Their souls are laid bare before me.” His old world pattern of speech was so soothing that I momentarily missed what he was saying.

  “Wait, you know everyone’s deepest secrets?” I thought my ability was kind of scary. But knowing the closest held secret of every person alive? That sounded like a kind of horror show I never wanted front row seats to see.

  “Secret. Singular. Only their deepest, darkest, secret. Quite frankly, your empathy is a balm after the normal depravity of humankind.”

  For some reason I didn’t want to investigate too closely, my mind went to Azriel. “Even the secrets of other angels?”

  He nodded solemnly, loneliness emanating from him in a steady pulse. I reached out, and placed my hand over his huge clasped ones. “I’m sorry.”

  He waved away the platitude, though his eyes held warmth. I worked hard at blocking his emotions. I found that I didn’t want to take more than this man wanted to give.

  I heard voices in the hall, voices I knew, and my face split in a grin. “You might want to go invisible right about now. We have incoming.”

  Memphis’ brows swooped down over his eerie blue eyes, but he did what I asked, just as the Mulligan women swarmed into my hospital room. All talking at once, they sounded like an angry flock of geese with distinct Bostonian accents.

  “Hope!” Granny Mulligan said something completely unsavory in Gaelic as she saw my face. Aunt Clary was around her in a flash, and pulling me into a hug. She looked me over, inventorying my wounds, my dressings, my machines. Nodding once, she stood so she could look at my chart. Clary still worked as a nurse in Boston, and she was as no-nonsense as she was loving. Granny Mulligan wrapped me in her arms, still tsking, as she kissed my head.

  “What kind of evil would do this to my sweet Hope?” she asked the room, though it was rhetorical.

  “Johnnie, you tell Colin he needs to fix this,” Aunt Bea said, waving a bunch of flowers around like a scepter. “To a soul as sweet as Hope’s at that. The devils work!”

  Memphis stepped from the shadows, and I froze. But apparently he was still invisible to everyone but me. Angels couldn’t hide from me or Rella. Another oddity of our DNA.

  “It wasn’t the Devil who did this. Pretty sure the Devil is going to flay the skin off whoever did do this to you, though” he said, and only I could hear. “They are an interesting group, these Mulligans. I’ve met many of their kin of the years,” he said conversationally. “Their deepest secrets are… intriguing.”

  I internally groaned. I desperately wanted to know now. Way to wave a red flag in front of a bull. But that was a massive invasion of their privacy right? Whatever, I’d read their emotions every day since I was three. Probably too late to worry about privacy now.

  “Oh?” I said, directing it to Granny Mulligan, but looking at where Memphis stood behind the completely oblivious Mulligans.

  He pointed to Aunty Bea. “Hit a man with her car and never stopped.” Then to Clary. “Smuggled a family out of Africa on fake passports, their pockets stuffed with pilfered blood diamonds.” He looked at Granny Mulligan and grinned. “Tempted a Priest into sin in a confessional.” He raised his eyebrows, a small smile on his face. “Granny Mulligan, I am shocked and awed!”

  Granny banged her cane on the linoleum floor. “Stop fussing like a bunch of old hens. Hope, my sweet child, we have brought you a gift on behalf of the Family. Your accident does not sit well in the hearts of any of us; you know how much we love you. I heard your former protection was killed, may God bless his righteous soul. We have brought you a replacement. Blue!” she yelled, and another person entered the room.

  I’d tuned out most of the emotions in the room, but his hit me like a wave of nothingness. Not that he had no emotions, but that he was purposefully blocking them. But I knew they were there, I could feel them circling beneath the surface like fish trapped in a barrel. Physically his face was impassive, but his ice blue eyes all but simmered. They were like steam off a frozen lake.

  I looked at Memphis, and his eyes were narrowed, his face scary as he looked at the newcomer.

  Uncle Johnnie stepped forward. “Hope, this is Blue Halloran. He is the best in the family at what he does.”

  I swallowed hard. “And what's that?”

  For the first time, the man spoke. “Whatever is necessary.”

  The words sent a chill down my spine. “What's your darkest secret?” I asked him, my eyes on Memphis, though.

  Blue answered. “You don’t want to know.”

  Memphis’ face was granite. He didn’t say a word.

  I couldn't drag my eyes from the killer. Because there was no doubt in my mind, th
at was what he was. He was a strongman. An enforcer. A hitman. A murderer.

  4

  The hitman wouldn’t leave. Or more exactly, when the Mulligan’s had all headed back to Boston, and I’d asked him to leave, he’d said “the Family are scarier than you are,” and pretended to go to sleep. He petrified me, his compressed emotions felt like a grenade that I was holding in my hand. Even the slightest fumble would have catastrophic circumstances for us both. He was all edges, dressed down in a pair of blue jeans and a perfectly ordinary white tee. He looked like someone you’d find sitting in a sports bar, drinking beer with his buddies and yelling at the umpire. Until you got to the eyes. The eyes gave him away, like fragmented ice, cold and deadly.

  He ignored me unless someone walked into the room, then he was casually alert. Nothing about his outwards appearance changed, he still looked bored as hell, but there was a subtle tension in his shoulders. Whenever the beat cops changed shifts, every single one eyed him like he was a rattlesnake curled in the corner of the room. When the nurses asked, he’d just say, “I’m her bodyguard,” and they’d leave it at that. Because I was a goddamn heiress. Why wouldn’t I have live-in bodyguard?

  For some reason that defied logic and self-preservation instincts, I didn’t protest too much about his presence. Despite the fact he was obviously a criminal, and his emotions were buried so deep that I’d need the mental equivalent of an excavator to get to them, my gut said that he was okay. That should the cast of my recurring nightmares appear, he would get rid of them, once and for all. On the flipside, my angelic visitors stopped coming at night now that he was here 24/7. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I’d had enough self-reflection to last me a lifetime.

  His stony silence was starting to get to me though. It had been twenty-four hours since he’d arrived and he’d said a total of twelve words to me. Seriously, I counted.. Silence was something that was unnatural to me. Even if someone's lips weren’t moving, to me they were always saying something. But not Blue-freaking-Halloran.

  “Seriously, don’t you ever say anything? Hum a tune, or whistle, or move a little louder, or something. You are driving me insane,” I complained. Hospital was driving me insane. I wanted to go home.

  “Testy today.” It wasn't a question. He said it like it was fact. It made me want to punch him in the nose. Such violence was usually Rella’s domain.

  “I’m bored. I should be working. Last week I was talking to world leaders. Now I’m napping in the afternoons while you watch me sleep like a creeper.”

  His cheek twitched. “I do not watch you sleep.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned over, giving him my back. I could hear the rustle of him standing, and the quiet whoosh of the door open and closing.

  Great, I’d offended the hitman. And now I felt bad. Well, good

  I wished Rella was here. She was great at dealing with people. It wasn’t always with the best of manners, but she made friends easily and she got what she wanted. I’d always envied that. She’d know what to say to Blue. Unfortunately, it would probably be, “You have the right to remain silent.”

  I stared at the cheesy rom-com for what seemed like an eternity, not absorbing any of it, when the door opened again. Blue strode back in, a paper bag under his arm.

  He put it on the tray table at the bottom of my bed and sat back in his chair in the corner. “What is this?” I asked quietly, staring at the brown paper bag like it might contain a bomb. I mean, it was a possibility, right?

  He just grunted. “Open it and see, Princess.”

  I kind of wanted to tell the grumpy bastard to take it back, but my curiosity won out. Dammit. Opening up the brown paper bag, I pulled out a magnetic travel chess set. It was actually kind of pretty. One side was glittery gold, and the other a polished black.

  “You play?” I asked, and he raised a single eyebrow at me.

  “I have hobbies that don't involve cracking skulls.”

  My cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean to imply-” he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

  “Just set up the board and save the apology.” He pulled the chair toward the bed. “You play right, Princess? I’m pretty sure chess is a part of your private education.”

  I guess I’d started with the gross generalizations, but I still scowled at him. However, I was so bored, I resisted the urge to tell him to take the Queen and stick it. Instead, I set up the board.

  “They didn’t teach chess. They taught polo. My dad taught me chess.”

  Not even asking, he twirled the board so he was black. “Which one?” he asked, but it wasn’t snide like most other people. He seemed genuinely curious.

  “Tolliver. He said mastering chess would teach me how to do business. Not sure how getting beaten for twenty years has helped me in the business world though.”

  Apparently, we’d exhausted our quota of conversation, because Blue just stared at the board and made a move. I found my concentration consumed as Blue countered my clumsy attacks, putting me on the back foot. He was good. His moves were considered, and even the random ones made sense five moves later when he took my bishop and then my knight in consecutive moves.

  “Maybe we should have played checkers,” I grumbled, as he took another one of my pieces. I was holding my own, but it was hard work. I moved, and grinned.

  “Check,” I crowed. I was finally going to beat someone other than Rella. Rella did not have the patience for chess. She was more of a ‘charge full steam and consequences be damned’ type.

  Blue took a pawn. “Checkmate.”

  My jaw swung open. “Shit.” I reached out to shake his hand. “Good game.”

  He wrapped his hand around mine.

  Why does she have to be so fucking nice? So fucking perfect all the time?

  I frowned as his thoughts echoed through my brain, ignoring the stab of hurt that appeared somewhere near my heart. What the hell did that mean?

  “Good game,” he muttered. “Another?”

  I shook my head. “No. Thanks for getting the board. I'm kind of tired now.” Nodding, he packed up the board silently. I laid down in bed, rolling over so my back was to him and he couldn't see the emotions on my face.

  The room was painfully quiet once more. I couldn’t take it. “Why do you dislike me so much?” I asked, but I didn’t turn around because I was a coward. I wasn’t scared to admit it. I didn’t want to look at his apathetic face as he told me all the reasons why he held me in such low esteem. So if that made me cowardly, then so be it.

  For the first time since I met him, a trickle of feeling slipped through Blue’s emotional wall. Regret.

  “You are everything I can never be. You don’t even realize.” And that was it. Like that explained anything. I sucked in a shuddery breath and pushed the hurt down deeper. This time it was me who pretended to sleep. Another cowards act; burying my head in the sand and not examining why the words of a criminal, a killer, actually mattered so much to me.

  I heard his deep sigh. “You are a princess and I am a junkyard dog. It's my problem, not yours.”

  I ignored him, but his emotions were burning so bright that they all but seared my nerve endings. For awhile, I sat in silence, just letting the wildness of his feelings brush along my skin. So much pain. I would fix him whether the stubborn asshole liked it or not.

  “It’s eleven in the morning, I know you aren’t tired.”

  “I’m convalescing.”

  “Maybe you are just a sore loser. Did you want me to hand you the victory, Princess?”

  I rolled over and sat up, ignoring the roaring pain in my ribs. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

  “I’m not a princess. Stop calling me that. And I’ve worked to be the woman I am today, not everything was handed to me.”

  He shrugged, wheeling the tray over to me. “You are basically a deity to the Mulligan Family. You are more than a Princess. You are a fucking way of life to them.”

  I scowled. “That’s not true.”

&nbs
p; He just raised his eyebrows, and moved his pawn. “Isn’t it? I’m their best enforcer, and they took me off all my jobs to come and babysit you in Manhattan for an undetermined amount of time. If that doesn’t sound like paying tribute, what does?”

  I made my move, and stared at those unflinching crystalline eyes. “Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are. Besides, they love me, they just want me to be safe. If I had my way, you'd be on the first train back to Boston. Back to your girlfriend, your six illegitimate irish bastards and your killing spree. Your move.”

  He made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “You aren’t my owner. I might be a junkyard dog, but you aren’t at the other end of my chain, Princess.” He moved. “Checkmate.” I looked down. Fury rose up in me, and I swept my hand across the board, pushing all the pieces onto the table, some rolling of the edge and onto the floor. “Fuck!”

  We both stared as the golden queen bounced across the floor, spinning in useless circles. I sucked in a deep breath, calming my emotions. I never lost control like that. Something about Blue Halloran, this whole damn situation, was twisting me all up. I needed to go home, get back to my normal life where Fallen Angels didn’t brood at my bedside and contract killers didn’t say things that hit too close to the damn truth. I took a deep, calming breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, sliding from the bed and bending to scoop up the scattered pieces. I sucked in a breath as my abused muscles protested.

  “Stop, I can do it,” Blue growled, grabbing the pieces from my hand.

  “I can do this,” I growled back, snatching the pieces back again.

  He shook his head, opening his hand and dropping all the pieces back on the floor. I scowled, but I bent down and continued picking them up, glad he couldn’t see my face as I gritted my teeth against the pain. Finally, I’d picked them all up except the gold queen.

  Blue walked over, scooping it up off the floor. He held it out with a flourish, like a magician revealing the coin he’d pulled from your ear.