“Aren’t you going to dry your hair some more?” He placed the book on the table and rose from the sofa.
“Why?”
“Because it’s cold outside.” He looked at her feet. “At least you’re not wearing flip-flops. Want a coat?” He went to the front door.
“Nah.” Armen grinned when she passed him and stepped outside. “I’ll be fine.” She waited for him to open the garage and back out the Lincoln. After they were both in the car, she turned her head to him. “It is a bit nippy out.”
Terry slid his gaze to the side, but he didn’t turn his head, and a grin crept across his face. He remained silent, however, and put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway.
“What, no smartass reply to that? I’m shocked.”
He still didn’t say a word, put the car in gear again, and then drove down the street, heading to Armen had-no-idea-where.
“Where were you born?”
“Here,” he replied, keeping his focus on the road.
“Did you go to Catholic school?”
“Of course. Brophy Prep.”
“Isn’t that a high school?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go to Catholic school before that?”
He turned his head to her briefly. “For someone who claims humans fill silence with needless chatter, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”
Armen wrinkled her nose. “Questions are not needless chatter. They are information gathering.”
He chuckled lightly and pulled onto the freeway. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
“Where is this place?”
“Near my parent’s house. I usually hit it on the way over after my shift. That is, when I’m not dealing with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, Armen.” He chuckled. “Don’t make something out of it. I enjoy the time I spend with you, even if we are working, otherwise I wouldn’t have—”
“Proposed?” She leaned closer to him.
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“So, you were serious with that.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Again, not very romantic.” She may have only been human for a few years and was a workaholic, but it didn’t mean she never saw a television commercial during Valentine’s Day.
“Are you going to say yes?”
“No.”
He snapped his head around to face her. “Why not?”
She casually pointed forward; he swerved slightly to miss the sidewalk. “Because of the context in which it was asked. It makes me think you only wish to marry me so you can have sex with me.”
“Yeah, you would think that. Never mind that I’ve told you I love you countless times—”
“Three times,” she said, and he laughed. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe you’re counting. No wait, yes I can.”
Armen huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “So happy to entertain you.”
Terry laughed again. “I’m teasing you, Armen. That’s what people do.”
Silence filled the air of the Lincoln, and it was a long time before either of them spoke.
“The book said Ashtoreth, right?” Terry asked. “Not the other one?”
Armen slapped him. “Name! But yeah, I definitely don’t want to deal with him yet.”
“Shit, sorry.” He took the off-ramp. “Pretty nasty fellow?”
“Horribly nasty,” she replied and shuddered just from the mere thought of it.
“Okay, that’s good.”
“How is that possibly good?” She turned to face him again.
Terry’s eyes briefly met hers before the light changed. “Because we know it’s not him, and personally, if you’re saying he’s a nasty one, I don’t want to deal with him yet, either.”
“You haven’t met Ash.” Armen’s stomach grumbled and she placed her hand over it. “Damn, I’m hungry.”
“We’re almost there.” He drove toward Scottsdale, heading for the Arcadia district. It was one of the older areas, but certainly higher in station. Regardless, the land had belonged to others long ago, and they still lingered. Armen could see things there, in these older parts. Not always bad things, but things nonetheless. She had to laugh at herself because of the profession she chose. Forensic pathology, what was I thinking? Paranormal investigator might have been more fun. Not that that particular approach hadn’t somehow taken over some of their cases. Speaking of which, she and Terry both were about due back to work. Seeing as how their sleep schedules were completely off, she could see that first night was going to be a killer, especially since their first night back on duty would be Friday night.
After breakfast, Terry and Armen made their way over to Sean’s house, who greeted each of them with a big hug and a peck on the cheek before letting them inside. It was Armen’s conclusion that Uncle Seamus and Sean were undoubtedly related to a clan of strong-armed men in the Highlands after he’d hugged her so tight she nearly squeaked yet again.
God, his family’s going to kill me. The irony was not lost on her.
She stepped into the entry and braced herself for the next bear hug as Uncle Seamus walked out of the kitchen with a rather large grin spreading across his red Celtic cheeks.
“Armen.” Seamus had a strong voice, too. “Guid to see ye.” Those Armstrong arms wrapped around her and squeezed.
“You too, Seamus,” she replied when he finally let her go. His wife, Beverly, appeared and stretched her hands out in greeting.
“Armen, sweetie, so delightful to see you.” She took Armen’s hands and pulled her forward so she could give her a dainty peck on the cheek. “Are you hungry? I’ve made muffins.”
“Oh, no thanks. Terry took me to breakfast.” She patted her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Well, at least he’s feeding you,” Beverly said with a wink.
“Good thing I burn hot.”
“I’m sorry, dear?”
Shit. “My metabolism, it’s high-end. I ate enough earlier to fell a horse.” She craned her head back to the door to see where Terry had gone. He stood just outside the door, talking quietly with his father. Seamus soon joined them, and Beverly pulled Armen into the kitchen, out of earshot.
“Let the men speak, dear. It’s obviously something important.”
Armen choked back the comment bubbling up because offending a family member of Terry’s just wasn’t in the cards. She closed her mouth and sat at the breakfast bar. She could act like a normal human being.
When she felt like it.
Most of the time, she didn’t feel like it.
How did human women deal with this all the time? She blew her too-long bangs away from her eyes. It amazed her how little had changed over the centuries, and how long it took for the small changes they did accomplish, only happening in the last one hundred or so years. Much as mortal man liked to believe in the natural order of things, that they were above mortal females, the truth was that things weren’t like that in her Father’s Kingdom. She’d been treated every bit as equally as her brothers, the only exception being that she may have been a Daddy’s girl and may have received special treatment for that and that alone.
Beverly smiled sweetly at her. “Coffee?”
Armen gave her a nod. “Thank you,” she said when Beverly placed a cup of hot brew in front of her.
“You’re welcome, dear.” Beverly was not a small woman, but not large, either. She was about five-four in height, a little shorter than Armen, and of average build with a little extra to love. Her strawberry-blonde hair was cut short, just above the neckline, and she surprisingly did not share the accent of her husband. “My husband tells me you’re a medical examiner. That must be a dreadful job.”
Armen chuckled. “It’s usually quite peaceful, actually, unless I have to go into the field.”
“You mean on a crime scene?”
Armen could only imagine the thoughts going th
rough Beverly’s head, given her horrified expression. “Yes.”
“Is that how you met our Terry?” She reached for a muffin and cut it open.
“Well, no, not really. The first time I ever saw him, he came into my lab with someone to view a body. He didn’t speak to me, though, outside of an introduction and giving me the necessary information.”
Beverly smiled, spreading butter over half the muffin. “Yes, well, Terry can be shy when it comes to women these days.”
The comment reminded Armen of what Seamus said to her at the cemetery. She leaned forward and looked Beverly in the eye. “What happened with his last relationship?”
Beverly’s eyebrows rose into her forehead and she blinked with surprise. “Hasn’t he told you?”
Armen shook her head.
“Oh, dear, I don’t think I should.”
Armen sat back. “It’s okay, I understand.” She picked at an imaginary crumb on the counter.
Beverly buttered the other half of the muffin and raised it to her mouth. Her eyes darted toward the entryway and back to Armen. “It was a horrible experience for him,” she whispered and took a bite.
Armen gave the woman her own look of surprise. “How horrible?”
Beverly chewed and swallowed, checking the front door again, and then leaned forward. “Poor Cassandra. She died in his arms.”
“What happened?”
Beverly shushed her. “They’ll hear you.” She placed the muffin on a small plate in front of her and leaned on the counter, closer to Armen. “Well, I don’t know the specifics exactly. He doesn’t like to talk about it. But from what I understand, some perp—that’s what he calls them—went into her apartment and killed her.”
“How? Why?”
“Ex-boyfriend, or something of the sort, I think. Like I said, I don’t know the details.” She took Armen’s hand in hers and studied her fingertips. Armen could tell she was listening intently for the men.
“Were they married?”
Beverly shook her head. “Not yet.”
“How did Terry come to be there?”
“He was already there before it happened. He’d just gone to the store to get her something.”
“Oh my.” Armen’s mind reeled with Terry’s reaction to her almost dying and it all made sense now. The words he’d said and why he’d said them. He hadn’t wanted to say it again to another woman he was interested in, not when he’d most likely said it to the woman he loved.
“At first, they thought he did it,” Beverly added quietly.
Armen quickly withdrew from her thoughts and stared at Beverly. “They did? Why would they think that?”
“Because he was the only one there.”
“The man had already left,” Armen said softly.
Beverly nodded.
“Oh, poor Terry.”
“It was very hard on him. It was hard on all of us, but we believed in him. Our Terry could never do such a thing.”
Armen agreed. Terry could never hurt someone he loved. She met Beverly’s eyes again. “How was she killed?”
Beverly still held her hand, studying each finger carefully. “Stabbed, several times.”
Armen stilled. That explained Terry’s reaction to Armen’s stabbing even more. She bit her lower lip, thinking about the night she’d almost died and the strange coincidence between Cassandra’s death and her almost-death. “How long ago was this?”
“Seven years. A long Seven years. That’s why we were so delighted when he started talking about you a few years back.” She looked up from Armen’s hand and smiled.
Armen heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Beverly stood up straight as all three men filed inside, and she took Armen’s hand and held it high, twisting it around so that Armen’s palm was away from her. She feigned serious inspection.
“Oh yes, dear. You do need a manicure. We should go do that while I’m in town.” She let go of Armen’s hand and returned to her muffin.
Terry walked up behind her, leaned over, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Getting an inspection, I see.” He sat down next to her and looked to Beverly. “Aunt Bev?”
“Coffee, coming right up.” Beverly turned to grab a cup from the cabinet.
“Thanks.”
She waved him off and poured the coffee. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my nephew.”
Terry smiled. “You’re the best aunt a guy could ask for.”
Beverly grinned. “I know.”
Sean stepped to Armen’s other side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Armen, are ye ready fer that talk noo?”
She looked up quickly, a little surprised because she didn’t think it would be so soon. “Yes.”
“Follow me,” he said and stepped into his office.
Armen followed, and he waited for her to enter the room before completely closing the doors.
“Please, have a seat.” He waved his hand toward a chair on the other side of the desk. Sean pulled his chair back and sat, and then turned to her with a smile upon his lips. “He still loves ye, y’know.”
Armen sat on the edge of her seat. “How do you know?”
“He told me.” Sean’s eyes sparkled with a smile. “An’ he told me to tell you so.”
Armen fidgeted, dancing her fingers on her lap, entwining them together and breaking them apart. “So, you really can hear Him?”
“Yes. What would you like to know?”
Lost in a sea of thoughts, Armen wasn’t sure which question to ask first. Finally, she settled on the one burning question that bothered her most. “Why did they kill my son?”
Sean’s smile faded. “You know the answer to that already.”
Armen hung her head and nodded. “But I don’t understand it.”
“Aye, ye do. You’re just choosing to deny it.”
She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “But he was my child.”
Sean looked down at the desk. “Armen, I understand loss, and there is nothing I can say that will make the pain of losing your child go away. It pains me to know that ye watched him die, that ye watched Gabriel do it. I also understand that what is written is misunderstood. I know your child was nae a giant, nae in the Goliath sense. Even Goliath was nae the giant they made him oot to be. He was just a rather large man.”
Armen nodded and wiped away her tears. His recount of what had happened proved that her Father had told him the true history, and for that truth, so was thankful.
“Please ask something else. I have no answers for you there.”
“Meaning He doesn’t wish to answer.”
“No,” he simply said. “Meaning ye already know the answer and you’ll need to discuss the issue with Him because it’s a personal matter between the two of you.”
She drew in a deep breath and tried to think of another question, but was quickly drawing a blank. Her son was the main question that she wanted answers to, and it looked as though her Father wasn’t about to let her have them. Maybe she just wanted Him to apologize for what He’d commanded of Gabriel. Another tear trailed down her cheek. She knew there were other half-breeds—angel and human—out there, still living. It was as if her Father had just stopped killing them after the first group of Nephilim. If that was the case, then why did her son have to die?
“D’you want to know why I summoned you that day?”
She looked up at him. “Please.”
He smiled. “Because He told me to.”
“But you didn’t know my name.”
“You go by many names, Armen.” He folded his hands on the desk. “Armaros, Armoni, to name a couple. I believe the name Armaros means ‘accursed one’.”
Armen lowered her gaze. “I know what my name means.”
“It’s how I called to you—the accursed one. D’you still believe yourself to be the cursed one?”
She sighed heavily and shrugged. “I don’t know. Why not? I mean, this life isn’t much better than the last. It’s still Hell; just a different p
lane.”
“D’you think it’s a curse to be flesh?”
“When you’ve experienced Heaven, yes.” She tilted her head. “When you’ve been in His Light, yes.”
“Don’t you think that this is perhaps a chance to show your faith in Him?” Sean leaned back in the chair.
Armen snorted. “I don’t need faith. Faith is a belief in something you’ve never seen, a belief in something greater than yourself. I know He exists. He’s my Father in the literal sense.”
“Aye, but perhaps ye have lost faith in why He does things.”
Armen blinked rapidly. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and she closed it again.
“It’s okay, Armen,” Sean said softly. “Sometimes we forget.”
“Sometimes I wish I could forget . . . everything.” She wiped yet another tear from her cheek. “You have no idea what’s inside this mind.”
Sean’s mouth twitched, and he looked at his desk briefly before his sorrow-filled eyes met with hers again. “I do nae envy you the millennia of memories you must have and can never forget, especially since you’ve experienced three realms.” He stood and walked around the desk, laying his hand on her shoulder. “I know the main answers you seek regard your son, but I can nae help you there. You must speak to Him if ye wish to know more on that topic.”
She kept her head down and sobbed. Sean wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. It was an act of compassion her own Father hadn’t shown her in eons.
“Just remember that He still loves you, Armen,” Sean whispered. “Otherwise, ye would nae be flesh noo. He told me to call to ye that day because He was trying to save His daughter. What more proof do you need?”
That comment set the pinball bouncing through her mind, hitting memories, especially from that fateful moment when she’d saved Sean’s life. But as much as she tried, she just couldn’t remember anything past feeling Agares’ sword slide through her torso.
The following Friday—only a couple of days after her conversation with Sean—came too soon, and Armen found herself dragging feet to get through the day. Not a good situation when they had to work that night and might potentially face a demon. She and Terry both attempted to sleep through the daylight hours, but the impending doom of what they were about to face at any given moment held them fast and awake. She was completely on edge, as was Terry, and she jumped at every little sound.
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 16
