Armen stared at her cup. “Because I really don’t want a relationship.”
His mouth twisted up on the right side into a half-grin. “Who said anything about a relationship? I’d just like to take you to dinner.”
“Dinners lead to movies and lunches and picnics in the park,” she replied. “And relationships.”
He laughed, shook his head, and drank his tea. “You crack me up sometimes. Paranoid about getting close to someone?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t seem to want to discuss much tonight.”
“Not everything is up for discussion, Terry,” she said. “I mean, hell, getting close to someone equals dependency on them.”
“Somehow, Armen, I doubt that you would ever depend on someone.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. It’s ludicrous to put yourself in that position.”
Terry set his cup on the table. “Is that a bad relationship talking? A good relationship has no dependency; it has compromise and partnership. Y’know, like how we work together.”
“And why exactly would I tell you such information?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I thought we were at least friends.”
Armen sighed. “You are my friend, Terry. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“So, we can never go to dinner, or have lunch together, or have a picnic in the park, huh?” he asked, his grin reappearing.
She picked up her teabag and tossed it into the trash can. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said. I meant those as dates!”
“Ah, and so I asked you out on a date, then?”
“When you refer to dinner and me wearing a little black dress, yes.”
He chuckled again. “Why do you have the little black dress, Armen? I doubt you wear it around the house. I’m just giving you the opportunity to wear it out.”
Her annoyed gaze locked on him. Too bad she wasn’t truly annoyed with him. Fact of the matter was that she was attracted to Terry, but that just couldn’t happen. Not in a hundred million years or when Armageddon hit, whichever came first. “You really annoy the hell out of me sometimes, you know that?”
The corners of his mouth curved upward. “I think you love it when I do that.”
She sighed heavily. “Whatever.”
He leaned toward her. “Just go to dinner with me. You know you want to wear that dress.”
Armen shifted her eyes back to his. “Do you ever give up?”
“No,” he replied. “I’ll keep bugging you until you say yes.”
“Isn’t that harassment?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nah, just a man trying to get a woman out in the real world, which he thinks she desperately needs.”
She finished off her tea and set the cup on the table. “The woman thinks the man needs to call his cab.”
He laughed. “Ah, I love avoidance. And you’re so good at it.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and skimmed through the contacts list. Once the cab was on its way, he turned to her. “It’ll be here in twenty minutes. That gives us some time to talk about other things.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Why do you know a demon language?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
“I told you I don’t care to discuss it at this time.”
“And I told you that you and I were going to have a long talk.”
“You only have twenty minutes,” she said with a grin. “It’ll take much longer than that.”
“Give me the short version.”
“There is no short version,” she said. “It’s all or nothing.”
“Very well,” he said and hit the ‘send’ button on his phone. “Yes, I’d like to cancel that cab I just ordered. Terry. Thanks.” He hung up the phone and looked at her. “Would you like some more tea before we begin?”
She stared at him, mouth agape. It took her another minute to shut it and gather her thoughts before speaking. “Are you kidding me?”
He shook his head. “I am not letting you off that easy, Armen. Some weird shit happened down there. Who’s this Sariel, and what the fuck does he want?”
She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t say his name!”
He ignored her warning. “If this Sariel is killing people, I want to know why.”
“No, you really don’t, and if you insist on saying his name like it’s just a name, I’ll have to ask you to leave. Oh wait, I already did!”
He stared at her for a long moment. Too long, in her opinion. “Talk to me. Tell me what it wants. How do we fight it?”
A chill seeped into the kitchen. “I guess you’re about to find out.”
Terry shivered and ran his hands over his arms. “Why is it suddenly cold in here?”
“Don’t take notice of it,” she whispered. “Call your cab and go home.” She certainly couldn’t fight the bastard with Terry around. Of course, the bum leg might be an issue.
“I am not leaving you here alone after what happened tonight.”
God, the man was just as stubborn as she was. “Just go, Terry,” she said softly, shivering. “Leave, now.” A faint cry from the depths of Gehenna made Armen jump in her chair. She hadn’t heard a cry like that since she became flesh.
“What was that?” Terry turned in his chair, scanning the rooms.
Armen gaped again. “You heard that? How could you—” It suddenly dawned on her that, because of what he witnessed earlier, he would now hear and see things usually undetectable to the human mind. “Shit.” Wonderful, she’d inadvertently brought a human into her screwed up world.
“Azel,” a faint whisper came.
“Fuck off,” she said, and her head snapped to the side. “Go away!”
“What the hell’s going on?” Terry moved closer to her.
“Forsaken one.” The voice grew stronger.
“Not in my home,” Armen demanded.
“Armen, you need to tell me what’s happening.” Terry forced her to look at him.
She stared into his eyes, unblinking. “It’s him. He’s back.”
“How?”
“You said his name.”
“What? It’s just a—”
“Name? Really?”
“If just saying their name summons them, why doesn’t it happen more often?”
She grabbed his wrist. “Because you’re aware of them now. Otherwise, you’d have to do an actual incantation spell.”
“So does the other name—?”
“No. That one doesn’t work the same.” She rose to her feet to face the demon entering her home. “Good job, brilliant actually, except we’re not ready for him.”
“Not here, not you, not me,” Terry growled.
“Oh yes here, yes her, and yes you.” Sariel materialized in her living room. He took on a more human form this time, long black hair cascading down his back and fire red eyes. His flesh seemed surreal, unearthly, and didn’t shift right when he moved to look at one of her paintings. “Oh, I do love Goya. He captured Death so well.”
“Sariel, I’m warning you,” Armen threatened as she grabbed her cane and stepped forward, pulling herself from Terry’s grasp.
“Armen, no.” He stepped up behind her. His voice was too calm for a man facing a demon for the second time in one night. It made her wonder what exactly Terry had seen in his lifetime.
Sariel craned his head around to view them, and with one swift motion, his entire body turned to face them. He smiled. Even that held pure evil within it.
“Warning me?” Sariel asked lightly. “Oh, you amuse me, Azel.”
“Get out of my house!”
“I shall not. Your protections are not very strong, Azel. You should take better care of them.” With a snap of his fingers, her protections vanished.
“Believe me, as soon as I get you out of here, I will.”
“That is to
assume I shall leave this place,” he replied. “And that you shall still be in a position to do so.” His lips twisted, baring teeth not of human form, sharp and pointy—every damn one of them. “How is the gift I gave you?”
“It’s just fine, thank you,” Armen said.
Sariel laughed. “It will not be for long.”
The cuts burned. Deep. She tried to take the pain he gave her, tried to push it back. Armen shrieked, her hand flying to her cheek. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor. Terry knelt beside her to help her, and she didn’t bother to slap his hands away this time. The pain consumed her.
“Where is their precious Savior now, Azel? Where has He been when I have claimed those souls? Where is He for you, if you are within the Light once more?”
“Go back to Hell,” Armen seethed through her pain.
He laughed again. “Do you like the pain these humans endure? I, myself, find it rather intriguing how much one can bear. It has been quite . . . entertaining.”
Terry struggled to pull Armen up. “Leave her alone.”
Sariel searched his eyes. “Ah, you have a knight, my sweet. Is he willing to take your pain from you?”
Terry sneered at the demon. “You heard the woman, go back to Hell.”
Sariel’s laughter echoed around them.
Armen forced herself to sit up, glaring at Sariel as he made a move to harm the man at her side. “You can’t touch him.” She bit back the pain that burned through her flesh.
Sariel’s eyes brightened as he studied Terry. He lifted his arms and said, “I do not have to touch, Azel.” Flames erupted over his body and spread to the floor.
Armen struggled to get to her feet, pushing herself up with the cane. “You bastard.” She grabbed Terry and pushed him backwards. “Outside, now!”
Terry stumbled back and grabbed her arm, opened the front door, and pushed her out as Sariel’s flesh melted away. For a brief moment, when Armen looked back, she saw the same demon from the warehouse. Then Terry yanked her out the door and carried her down the stairs as her condo went up in flames.
Red and yellow lights lit the surroundings of the condominium complex. Firefighters encompassed the area around her condo. It was the only one damaged in the fire. Terry stood holding a shivering and injured Armen while others looked on. She, likely along with Terry, wondered just how in God’s name they were going to explain what happened. No one was going to believe a demon set the damn place on fire.
“Ember from the fireplace?” Terry asked softly.
Armen looked up at him, her jaw quivering. “I don’t have a f-f-f-firepl-l-l-lace.”
Terry looked around. “Hey guys, does one of you have a coat or blanket for the lady? She’s freezing.”
A rough-looking man with piercing blue eyes walked over to them and handed Terry a blanket. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
Terry nodded and wrapped the blanket around Armen’s shoulders. “Thanks, Greg.”
She looked up at Terry again when the firefighter walked away. “He looks like he’d be a bi-k-k-ker under all that gear.”
Terry chuckled. “He’s got a hog. I ride with him sometimes.”
“You have a motorcycle?” She pulled the blanket over her still damp head.
Terry looked down. “Not a motorcycle, sweetie, a chopper.”
Armen frowned. “That’s not a motorcycle?”
“No and yes.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.
“What are you doing?” She shivered, a chill racing down her spine, and looked up at his chin.
“Keeping you warm.” He adjusted his arms to a more comfortable position at her waist, and then moved his hands briskly up and down her back. “Is it working?”
She shifted her eyes to meet his. “I think you’re just using it as an excuse.”
Terry chuckled softly. “You would think that.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Looks like you’ll be having dinner with me tomorrow night after all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, you certainly can’t stay here anymore.”
“And where do you think I’ll be staying?”
“I have an extra room.”
“I can stay at a hotel.”
He jerked his head once to the side and abruptly snapped it back in his classic short ‘absolutely not, flat-out no’ response. “Not with all this weird shit going on.”
He couldn’t be serious. “Come on, Terry—”
Another firefighter walked up to them. “This your place?” he asked Terry.
“No, it’s hers.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “One painting survived. Didn’t have a mark on it; not even smoke damage far as we can tell. Thought you’d like to hang on to it.”
“Goya, I’m sure,” she mumbled. “Can I go in and look around?” She pulled the blanket tighter after Terry stepped back.
“No, ma’am,” the firefighter replied. “Not for a couple of days. There’s still some hot spots in there. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt more than you are.”
“I understand,” she said. “But I can definitely go in and look around in a few days?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “Do you know what started it?”
“Not a clue,” she answered.
He looked at Terry, who shook his head.
“We were having tea in the kitchen,” Terry said. “Burners were off.”
The firefighter nodded. “You can go now. We’ve got your number?”
Armen nodded while shivering beneath the blanket. “Yes, I gave it to s-s-s-someone.”
Terry spoke up. “If not, you can call me to get hold of her.” He passed over his card. “I ride with Greg sometimes.”
The firefighter studied it. “Oh, Detective Armstrong. I thought you looked familiar.” He pocketed the card and held out his hand. Terry took it with a firm grip. “Have a safe night now. We’ll call if we have any more questions.” He took a few steps away, grabbed something, and returned. “Here’s that painting.”
“Thanks,” said Armen as Terry grabbed for the canvas. The firefighter walked away again, and she looked at the painting. “Burned the damn frame right the hell off, but the paint and canvas weren’t touched.”
Terry studied it. “That’s insane.”
“Fucking asshole.”
He nodded and looked at her. “The keys to your Jeep were in the kitchen, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, but I have a spare,” she replied. “Near the driver’s side back tire.”
“Brilliant,” Terry said with a grin. “You’re going to freeze on the way to my house, though.”
She glared at him. “I don’t remember determining where I would be s-s-staying.”
“Don’t argue with me. You don’t have any place else to go and no identification now.”
She sneered. “Damn it.” He was right. Her bag was in the kitchen.
He pulled her over to the Jeep. “Get in.”
“I should hit you with my cane,” she said, trying not to smile while she climbed into her Jeep.
“It’d be much more interesting to see you hit that son of a bitch demon with it.”
She laughed. “I don’t think it’d have much effect on him, even with its gifts. The bastard is evil enough.”
“Probably not,” Terry said as he climbed into the driver’s seat after retrieving the key. “But we need to find something that will.” He turned to her as he started the engine. “Any ideas?”
“I’m working on it.” Right now, she was more concerned with freezing to death on the ride to Terry’s house, which was in the historic district of downtown Phoenix. “Why were you at a case in Tempe?”
“Technically, it was Phoenix, on the west side of 48th Street.” He pulled onto the road.
“Hmm.” The wind swept around her face and into the blanket, freezing her to her core as Terry drove toward the freeway. I’m never going to make it.
He must have seen her shiver. “Don’t worry, I’ll
make it quick.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she replied. “I’m going to be a Popsicle by the time we get there.” After sundown, temps dropped close to freezing, depending on the time of year and global warming. It didn’t help that her hair was still wet or that she was getting wind-blasted, or that she only had on a tank under the blanket.
He laughed and drove up the on-ramp of I-10, heading west into Phoenix. “Seriously, ten minutes, tops,” he shouted as he sped up.
“More like twenty in this 3-speed,” she yelled, and then pulled the blanket tighter around her head. When she looked at her speedometer, it read 75 mph.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into Terry’s driveway. “H-h-h-how m-m-many l-l-laws did y-y-you break g-g-getting here?”
He hopped out of the Jeep with a laugh and came around to her, unlatching the seatbelt because she wasn’t moving. “Come on,” he said softly and slid an arm beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders. “I do have a fireplace.”
Terry carried her to the door and struggled to open it, but quickly got her inside and sat her down on the sofa. He shut and locked the door before returning to Armen’s side.
“It’s going to be all right, Armen,” he said softly, his hand running down her back over the blanket. He got the fireplace going, disappeared a moment, and returned with a large quilt from the linen closet. “Come on, get closer to the fire.”
“My cane.”
“Shit, it’s in the Jeep,” he said, helping her to the chair. “I’ll get it.”
She craned her head around and watched him walk out the door.
The hairs on her arms stood on end, sending goose bumps in a wave over her body. Something was off. She pushed herself out of the chair slowly and hobbled over to the front window. Terry stood a few feet from the front door, staring up at the stars. When she saw his eyes close, she figured he’d seen a shooting star and made a wish, but that couldn’t be true because if there was one thing she knew about Terry, it was that he didn’t believe in wishes.
The gashes on Armen’s face burned, and she hissed.
Terry pulled the cane and the painting from the Jeep and turned to come back to the house. Something blocked his path.
Sariel. The demon stood between Terry and the front door, wearing a black suit. She strained to hear the conversation between the fragile human and the high-level demon.
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 4
