by Debra Dunbar
The man nodded and pulled a large spiral bound book from the desk, all while gripping his crucifix. “So when would you like to schedule this?”
“Now.”
His hand paused on the calendar, and those stern eyes pinned her to her chair. “Young lady, I understand your need to help your friend as soon as possible, but I have other commitments.”
She saw his ‘other commitments’ and nearly ground her teeth. Bowling, and all-you-can-eat shrimp night at MacGrubeys. Taking a calming breath, she centered herself and pulled every ounce of persuasive skill to the surface. “A young man’s life is at stake, Father. Many, many lives are at stake here. Can you possibly clear your schedule and come with me now?”
No compulsion, just a big dose of persuasion and the sweet innocence of an angel’s smile.
***
This convention was boring as fuck, but he needed to maintain appearances, keep up the mask of human CEO for just a while longer. Time was running out. Eventually that bitch of an angel would figure out he was no longer in the bottle and connect the dots. Hopefully by the time that happened, the world would be in chaos, and he’d have the power to set the humans at each other like starving dogs.
She’d almost caved this morning at the café. He could see her wavering, feel her affection for this human he was using as a vehicle. He needed that bottle—without it, she’d have no way of knowing.
“Thank you, Mr. Phelps.”
Some other human pumped his hand, beaming like he was gazing upon the next recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. How ironic.
“Make sure you load the software tonight,” he replied. “Don’t spend another moment unprotected from those thieves.”
Except for one thief. He grinned, thrilled his plan was coming together. All those centuries had taught him much—patience, the benefit of using other’s skills, that there was no shame in hiding under a human’s skin if it furthered one’s goals. All for the greater good.
The booth model slipped a note into his hand, eyeing him seductively as she turned away. Yeah, he’d like to hit that, but it would have to wait. First things first. Glancing down, he unfolded the note.
Carter—I’m so sorry I betrayed you like that. I do trust you, and to prove it, I want to return the bottle. Your room at six?—Asta
Perfect. He’d get the bottle back, and if there was any trouble, he’d just kill the bitch.
Chapter 19
Hi.” Asta smiled at the blond man and ran a hand down the non-existent wrinkles of her skin-tight lycra mini dress.
His eyes followed the motion, sparking with desire. If she hadn’t spent so much time with Carter in the last week, she wouldn’t have noticed the odd fire in his gaze, or that instead of making her feel guilty, his lust sent a shudder up her back.
He opened the door wide. She walked in, placing the steps of her stiletto-clad feet in a line to ensure her rear swayed as she passed by. He was completely silent as she sat her oversized bag carefully down on the table and turned to him.
“Bottle?”
He was obviously trying for a cool, imposing tone of voice, but the guttural rasp that came out betrayed him. Carter was already enamored of her, and after being with Dar, she knew what worked for a demon.
“Of course.” She smiled enigmatically, and saw the result it had on the lower portion of his torso. “And afterward, I’d like to apologize. Profusely.”
Yep. Demon or not, he was going to bust out of those pants in a moment.
A cruel smiled curled his lips, and a flash of green lit the blue of his eyes. “On your knees. That’s the only way I’ll accept such an apology.”
Sheesh, what was it with demons and blow jobs. Dar had whined and begged for one all last night. A pang hit her chest as she realized she’d probably never get the chance to give him one.
She tried for a sultry look to hide the grimace of revulsion. “Then knees it is.”
He still held the door open, his pants tenting outward and his eyes stormy as he watched her reach into the bag and toss him the bottle. It was magically unbreakable, but instinct died hard, and he snatched it from the air with both hands, his expression shifting as he saw the clear glass in his hand.
“Somnus, daemon.”
She’d expected Father Athmor to subdue him in some religious-supernatural fashion, not whack him over the head with his huge brass crucifix. It certainly worked, though. Carter/Rubeus crashed to the ground, blood seeping from the wound at the back of his head.
She helped the elderly man drag Carter’s limp form to the bedroom. Asta tied him to the mattress as the priest blessed the room, the clothes, the carpet. When the possessed man came to, he hissed. Struggling against the sheets Asta had used to tie him to the bed, he glared at the array of candles and incense surrounding him.
“What the fuck is this?”
He knew. And he knew that she knew. The moment he’d seen the clear glass of the bottle, she’d seen the realization on his face.
“Exorcism. You’ve got one chance to get out of Carter’s body. I’ll escort you to the nearest gate to Hel and ensure you go home unharmed, but you need to leave him, and leave him without a scratch right now.”
Father Athmor gave her an odd look but continued to chant and wave the incense censers without pause. Rubeus, on the other hand, practically foamed at the mouth. “Seriously? You think some fucking priest is going to get me out of here? How did angels get so stupid? Give it up, bitch. The only way I’m leaving is if you kill my host, and I know you’re not going to do that. I saw the way you looked at Carter, the way your little heart went pitter-pat at his sob story about his childhood and his grandmother. I’m home free as long as I’m in here.”
She winced. He was right. She wouldn’t kill Carter and wouldn’t call in another angel who might decide that one human life was worth it compared to taking out this demon. Carter Phelps was a good man—not without sin, but then again, who was? She wasn’t about to have his death on her soul.
Everything was banking on this priest—the one who’d felt whacking their victim over the head with a brass religious artifact was proper procedure. If Dar was here, he would have said she was so fucked.
“I know how this works. I’ll get you out of there if I have to bring in a pig from Indiana to do so.”
At the mention of swine, the genie’s eyes widened. Then he gathered his resolve and spat at her, hitting her lovely royal-blue silk shirt with a disgusting ball of phlegm.
“You wanna know what his third wish was?” The genie’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned. “You. Not world domination. Not untold riches. Not the respect and fear of his peers. He wanted you to love him.”
Asta’s heart stuttered. Oh Aaru, had she led Carter on to do the very thing she’d urged him not to? If she hadn’t... . This was all her fault.
“I convinced him the way to your heart was this whole saving-the-world-with-his-software plan. Idiot. He rushed it, figuring no one would be smart enough to catch the weakness in the code. With all his skills at my fingertips, it was easy to program that hack and send it off.”
This would all be traced back to Carter and Genus Micro. It would all be blamed on him. Rubeus wouldn’t care, but Carter Phelps must be in agony thinking of how his good intentions were twisted into cyber terrorism.
“I’m going to kill him. Once I’m done with him, I’ll kill and Own his soul. He knew the risks when he opened that bottle, when he made his first wish. He accepted those risks, and now he’s mine.”
Not while she had wings to fly with. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your last day of freedom, Rubeus. Once this priest forces you out of that human body, I’m going to kill you. All your plans will be for nothing. You’ll be dead, taken down by an elderly human and a young angel.”
Rubeus eyed the waving censor, his hand gripping the sheets. “That human can’t do shit.”
“Ecce crucem Domini.” Father Athmor chanted as he sat down the censor and picked up one of his small glass bottles.
Rubeus howled. “You bitch! I’ll kill you for this. I’ll pin you to a wall and rip your wings off, one feather at a time.” The demon strained against his bonds, and Asta saw the edges of the sheets begin to fray.
“You won’t leave? Well, we’re going to make you leave.” She threw a handful of liquid on the restrained man. Father Athmor had said it was holy water, but it felt like normal liquid to her. Whatever it was, Rubeus didn’t like it one bit. He screamed, shaking his head from side to side.
“You can’t. I’m here to stay.”
“No! You will leave,” Father Athmor announced. The priest lay a hand on the man’s head. “Ecce crucem Domini.”
Rubeus went rigid, twisting his lips up into a sneer. The priest’s fingers moved feather-light downward before coming to rest on the genie’s closed eyelids.
“Manifestaturus es te ipsum.” The words forced Rubeus’s eyes open, and Asta saw fear as well as hate in the glowing green of the genie’s gaze.
“Sit nominis ti signo famulus tuus munitus.” Father Athmor continued to chant as he dabbed the oil on Carter’s forehead. “The demon known as Rubeus, I cast you out. I command you to leave this man’s body and not return.”
Asta waited expectantly, but the demon didn’t do as commanded. Instead, he retreated further into Carter Phelps’s body. As Rubeus faded into the background, the green vanished, and Asta found herself staring into Carter’s dark blue eyes.
They were pleading. His arms jerked against the restraints, as if he wanted to touch her. “I’m sorry. I never meant this to happen. I only wanted to help people.” A shadow flitted across his face. “And for them to realize I wasn’t dumb, that I was just as smart as my parents, as smart as Gran always told me.”
“Fight him, Carter,” she urged. “Fight the genie. We’re trying to get him out.”
“It was for the greater good, not this. I didn’t want this. Please believe me. I never wanted this.”
She did. He might not be dumb, but he was foolish enough to believe a demon’s lies. “I know. But you can make this all right. Just fight him. Once he’s out, you can fix this mess.”
“I got the respect, the riches. I helped people. But in the end, I was still alone. My last wish was to not be alone. I wanted you by my side, Asta, and this is how he said I could have you.”
Now wasn’t the time to discuss how supernatural intervention wasn’t the best way to secure a girlfriend. “It’s okay, Carter. I believe you. I understand. Please help us. The genie is hiding inside you. Help us get him out.”
“I can’t. He’s too strong.” The man’s lips trembled as he spoke. “You should just kill me. Kill me and that will right all the stupid wrongs I’ve done.”
“No, it won’t. You’ll live if it’s the last thing I do. I told you I’d take care of this demon, and I will, without you dying.”
Asta’s temper surged. She had contributed to this whole mess, but Carter Phelps was a weak fool. She needed him to be strong, to fight, and all he could do was whine about his intentions. She owed him, and that meant she wouldn’t let him take the easy way out. He needed to live, to clean up the storm of feces he’d created with his shortcuts and insecurities. If he died, the man he was deep down inside would never have a chance to show himself.
Father Athmor pushed her aside, flinging bits of water and waving incense so strong it made Asta’s eyes burn. “The demon known as Rubeus, I cast you out!” he shouted. “I command you to leave this human’s body and not return.”
With an inhuman scream, Phelps’s eyes glowed green again. Bedsheets tore, and before Asta could act, Rubeus had grabbed the censer from the priest and hit him in the head with it. She dove forward, trying to restrain the genie without causing Carter’s body too much damage. Father Athmor’s chant faltered, his blood splattering across the bed as he elbowed Asta aside and put a hand on the genie’s forehead.
Idiot. It’s not like she was a helpless female in need of protection by an eighty-year-old human. Now the priest was in between her and the thrashing demon. “I’ve got him,” she shouted. “Back up, before... .”
Too late. Rubeus had freed himself and spun the priest around, looping an arm around his neck. Father Athmor turned an alarming shade of red, his eyes bulging.
“It’s him or me, darling Asta.” Rubeus sneered. “Who will you choose?”
With a quick motion, his arms twisted, and the priest’s head snapped to the side. The elderly man slid to the floor in a heap of robes while the genie raced for the door. Other angels would have left the man to die. He was nearing the end of his life, and sometimes humans perished for the greater good. Catching Rubeus should have been her first priority.
It wasn’t. Kneeling beside the priest, she gently straightened him and poured the gold of her healing light forth. Bones knitted, neural pathways connected, blood vessels were made whole. The man’s eyes fluttered open.
“Worst demon I’ve ever encountered,” Father Athmor croaked. “Where is he?”
The priest looked frightened, as if he really didn’t want to know where Rubeus was. Asta realized that even if she managed to find the genie, she couldn’t ask this man to go through that again. There had to be some other way, some other option.
“He got away,” she said softly as she helped the priest to sit. “I’ll find him. I’ll get the demon to leave somehow. It’s okay.”
Liar. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all.
Chapter 20
Dar ducked under the overhang, brushing the rain from his coat. The shopkeeper had a nice display of umbrellas right inside the door. Once this meeting was over, he’d have to steal one.
“This city has the most dreadful weather imaginable.” Rubeus stepped in beside him, rubbing his wet hair then staring at his hand in distaste. “It doesn’t rain like this in Hel outside of the elven areas. I don’t understand why the humans don’t do something about this.”
“They’re not good at weather. In fact, they’re not good at much of anything.”
Rubeus shot him a wicked smile. “They’re good at this computer stuff, and computers seem to run just about everything here.”
True. “We figured you were dead. You can’t imagine how surprised I was when that mage said it was you in that bottle.”
The other demon snarled. “Some fucking bastard summoned me, trapped me in there, then promptly got executed for banging one of the Caliph’s wives. Six-hundred years I rotted in that damned thing, waiting for someone with the greed and balls to cash in the wishes.”
Dar grimaced. “I can’t imagine. I was a juvenile when you vanished. I hate to tell you, but your household is disbursed and all your belongings divvied up. You’ll need to knock some serious heads together when you get back to Hel.”
Rubeus watched the cars drive by. “Maybe I’ll stay. The weather sucks, but there’s plenty of opportunity for fun. No sense in rushing back to claw my way back to the top in Hel. That can wait.”
“I’ll agree things are fun here, but how long do you intend to hitch a ride inside that human? I’d figured a demon of your stature would be above such things.”
“Pride gets you killed.” The demon shook the water from his jacket. “I’d love to take over the world as a six-armed, horned monster. The screaming, the terror—trust me; I’m sorely tempted. Six-hundred years in a bottle teaches a demon many things.”
“Like hiding from the angels in a human’s body?”
Rubeus’s eyes glowed green as he turned to face Dar. Right. Like he was going to do much. Normally Dar would never bait a demon this old, but anyone possessing a human deserved some ribbing.
“That bitch of an angel knows I’m here but is too much of a pussy to do anything about it. No, the real advantage is Phelps’s reputation and connections—and his brain. I have no idea what the fuck is going on with this security stuff, but with his knowledge, I can bring down every government on the globe. Imagine the wars, the famine, the genocide—it’s going to be a hell of a deca
de.”
“So Own him. You can assume his form and have access to his memories without sharing a stupid, limiting body.”
“Idiot.” Rubeus shook his head. “His memories won’t do shit for me. I don’t know anything about these computers. When I got stuck in that bottle, people were still communicating by scrolls hand-carried over the miles. I want this now—not after months of trying to figure out how to buy something off eBay.”
“Makes sense. Of course, not all the angels are as reluctant to kill humans as this one. All she needs to do is call in the boss, and that bottle would start to look pretty damned nice.”
The demon scowled. “Would she? I got the feeling she prides herself on being able to handle these things herself. And how the fuck are you prancing around with her, anyway? She should have killed you, but instead she’s all over you.”
Dar shrugged, trying to keep the pride from his voice. “I’ve got immunity. I’m with the household of the Iblis.”
That clearly shocked the other demon. “There’s an Iblis? After two-and-a-half-million years, there’s an Iblis? Is it Ahriman? I always suspected that bastard would make a play for power, but I couldn’t see him sitting through Ruling Council meetings and filling out all that paperwork.”
“Nah. Ahriman’s dead. The Iblis killed him.”
And suddenly the other demon was looking at Dar with great respect. Although that respect would be short-lived if he found out the Iblis was an imp, not even a thousand years old. Ah well, let the guy wonder.
“Dragon’s balls! Ahriman’s dead? Well that explains a lot, although I still don’t see why you’re wasting time with that angel.”
“I thought she’d be fun to seduce. Mission accomplished, and now I’m looking for some other fun.”
Rubeus narrowed his eyes. “How about you and I kill her? That would be fun.”
Dar choked back a laugh. “Yeah, fun until I lose my immunity and get hunted. I’d never be able to leave Hel again if I killed an angel.”
