by Lee, A. H.
“Of course you’re still alive! Is that what we were figuring out? That you can have an orgasm without dying?”
“With you, yes.”
“You can have an orgasm with me without dying.” And gods, I loved doing it to you.
Chapter 44
Jessica
It was almost three in the morning by the time Jessica came slinking into the cottage. She was concerned, when she tiptoed past the sitting room, to see no sign of Azrael on the couch. Did he and Mal not go home after all? I figured they’d left the club hours ago. She felt guilty for not keeping a closer eye on them.
Jessica eased the bedroom door open, blinking into the darker room in the dim light from the hall. Could they have fallen asleep reading again?
Something moved on the bed and Jessica took a step closer. “Mal?”
“I’m here. You must have had a good evening.”
She grinned. “I did. Where’s Ren?”
“He’s with me. Come on in, just be quiet.”
Jessica’s eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom. She came into the room, shedding her coat and shoes. “Awww…” Azrael was curled up fast asleep on Mal’s chest. They were both under the covers, but Mal was propped on a couple of pillows. He was wearing his collar again. He was also shirtless.
Jessica crawled onto the bed, wide-eyed. “Did you get him naked? Did I miss it?”
“No,” said Mal, a hint of smugness in his voice. “I did not get him naked…but I did get him off.”
Jessica covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“I did what you said,” continued Mal. “It worked. Only…” His voice lost some of its smugness. “It was kind of a rough evening, Jessica. There was crying. He got pretty drunk, and I think I wore him out.”
Jessica nodded. “He’s been pushing himself hard every day since he got here. We stayed up late reading last night, and then he got up early to work on the gate before you came out and started distracting him again this morning. He’s been awake for most of two days.”
“Well, he doesn’t need to get up early tomorrow,” muttered Mal. “It won’t take us long to finish threading that gate.” He brought the hand that was resting on Azrael’s back up to his face and smoothed his hair. Azrael didn’t stir.
“You two are unbearably adorable,” whispered Jessica.
“He let me hold him. He let me kiss him. He danced with me. Really danced.”
Jessica wriggled off the bed and started stripping. “I want to hear all about it. Just give me a second. Is this a naked slumber party?”
“No, he’s wearing clothes. I’m wearing trousers. You just can’t see.”
“Fine.” Jessica put on her pajamas, used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed. She cuddled up on Mal’s left side, opposite Azrael. He had his face pressed against Mal’s chest, one hand curled there like a sleeping child. “Look at him all trusting,” whispered Jessica.
Mal snorted. “I don’t know about that. He’s had way more alcohol than he’s used to.”
“Still sweet,” said Jessica.
Mal hesitated. “I think maybe Lucy was right. Maybe I hurt him more than I thought I did.”
Jessica tucked her head under Mal’s chin. “Tell me.”
Chapter 45
Azrael
Azrael opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. I am going to vomit.
He struggled out from under the covers, but he only made it to the edge of the bed before the drum-beat headache brought him up short. Fuck. He opened his eyes a slit and stared at the floor, weighing the relative advantages and disadvantages of vomiting here versus in the bathroom. The problem was, he would have to walk to the bathroom, presumably with his eyes open.
“Boss?”
Mal was suddenly crouching in front of him, holding a waste bucket.
Azrael seized it and proceeded to be violently ill. Mal’s big, warm hand rubbed his back. When he thought he was done, Azrael tried to set the bucket down and nearly spilled it. His head felt like it was made of eggshells and filled with broken glass.
Mal caught the bucket and set it on the floor. “You need help getting up?”
Azrael shook his head, although he would have liked to use the bathroom. He burrowed back down under the blankets.
Sometime later, he woke again, vomited again, and made his shaky way to the bathroom. He glanced at the clock and was horrified to see that it was almost noon. The drawn curtains effectively blocked most of the light. He could smell food, and it made him simultaneously hungry and nauseated. I really should have used magic on myself last night. Or this morning. How long does a hangover last, anyway?
He found a large glass of water and two aspirin on the counter in the bathroom. Jessica’s pajamas were folded neatly on the chair near the door. Azrael stared at himself in the mirror. He looked even paler than usual, his fine, dark hair sticking in all directions, stubble on his chin and jaw.
Did I really kiss Mal yesterday? Dance with him? Crawl into bed with him? The last seemed self-evident, given where he’d woken up. Did I really…? Gods. Azrael took the aspirin, drank the water, and washed his face in the sink.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Ren?” Jessica’s voice.
Azrael opened the door.
“Hey.” She smiled at him. She was holding a cup of coffee, dressed in a white sweater and trousers, her honey blond hair loose around her shoulders. “We turned the last of the goose into stew. Mrs. Sworenson brought homemade bread by this morning. Are you up to eating?”
“I’ll try,” croaked Azrael. “I believe I have poisoned myself.”
Jessica shrugged. “You haven’t really lived until you’ve poisoned yourself at least a few times.”
Azrael tried to smile. Then he shut the door to bathe and dress. He drank glass after glass of water. The aspirin seemed to be working. By the time he came into the kitchen, he felt almost human again.
Mal was sitting at the kitchen table slicing bread, and he looked up nervously as Azrael walked into the room. Their eyes met. Azrael could see that Mal wanted—needed—reassurance.
Part of Azrael wanted to look right through Mal, to let his gaze glance off him like ice off a sidewalk. To say, in effect, “I don’t remember what happened last night. And even if I do, we are going to pretend that I don’t. There will be no strangeness or awkwardness or embarrassment because nothing happened and nothing has changed.”
Another part of Azrael wanted to kiss Mal good morning. Good afternoon? And possibly curl up in his lap. What is wrong with me?
He did neither. He walked past Mal, towards the tea things on the counter, but he put a hand on his shoulder. He lingered long enough for Mal to reach up and cover Azrael’s hand briefly with his own. When Azrael sat back down with his tea, Mal looked, if not entirely reassured, at least a little calmer. “I thought it would be alright to let you sleep,” he said. “It’ll be easiest to thread the gate at dawn or dusk, and we certainly weren’t going to make dawn.”
Azrael gave a snort of laughter into his tea.
Mal’s confidence improved immediately. “Do you still think you shouldn’t have used magic on yourself last night?”
“Sadly, yes. We’ll need every bit of magic to thread the gate this far from the Shattered Sea.” I am trying not to drain you, idiot.
Jessica sat down with a bowl of stew. “That wedding reception is at three o’clock—the one we talked about attending earlier, my sword instructor’s niece. The gardens where it’s being held are gorgeous. There are world-famous carp.” She sipped her coffee, looking hopeful.
Azrael considered. “I don’t see why not. I am certainly not going anywhere after we finish this evening. One poisoning is enough. Mal might need to recharge though. Threading a gate takes a lot of magic.”
Mal shrugged. “I can do that tomorrow. If we’re not going out later, let’s go to the wedding. There’s bound to be some sexual energy there…although usually less than one would think.”
“I should bring Lucy out,” said Azrael.
“Does she like weddings?” asked Mal doubtfully.
“I have no idea, but I’m sure she’d enjoy a walk in a garden.”
Chapter 46
Mal
“Do I like weddings?” said Lucy when Azrael poured her out of her bottle an hour and a half later behind a well-manicured hedge. “One would hope so, since I’ve been married five times.”
“Five?” repeated Jessica. “That seems like a lot.”
Lucy yawned and, for one moment, looked more like a dragon than a well-coiffed senior. “Not really, darling. It’s just that every hundred years or so, I forget my mistakes enough to repeat them.”
Jessica smiled. “Was it always a mistake?”
“Perhaps not always.”
“Did you love them?”
“Oh, certainly. I let one of them put me in this bottle.” A hint of acid seeped into her voice. “But he is dust, and here I stand.”
“How long ago was the last one?” asked Mal. “Has it been a hundred years? Do we need to be worried?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You certainly don’t.”
“Excuse me,” said Jessica, “I should go congratulate my friends.” The three of them followed her out from behind the hedge. The wedding party had clustered around the gazebo, where a string quartet played solemnly. A flowering arch made for attractive photographs.
Jessica moved among the guests, speaking to people, patting hands, exclaiming, occasionally hugging someone. She was wearing a blue and white dress with a fitted bodice and a stylish little hat. “How does she know so many people?” muttered Mal.
“Offhand, I’d say because she speaks to them,” said Lucy.
“I speak to people!”
“You do know that putting your tongue in someone’s mouth does not count as speaking, don’t you?”
Mal ignored this. “She’s always so interested in weddings.”
“Perhaps she is trying to tell you something,” said Azrael. He was watching the guests with minute attention.
“Do you think she wants to get married?” Mal was genuinely curious. He sensed a great deal of human emotion surrounding marriage, but he didn’t understand it. Married couples seemed to do all the same things that unmarried couples did, often with less enthusiasm.
“You would have to ask Jessica that question,” said Azrael.
Mal shifted uncomfortably. He was wearing what Jessica called his “weddings and funerals suit,” and the collar was too tight. “It seems like a strange thing for an incubus to do. Or a succubus. Isn’t marriage all about sexual exclusivity?”
“Marriage is about loyalty,” said Azrael firmly. Mal was a little surprised to hear him express such a strong opinion on the subject. “That takes different forms for different people. Now I think I’d better go make sure none of these guests are demon hunters who have taken the five minutes required to learn Jessica’s middle name. I really am going to have to do something about her family’s memories.”
He started towards the crowd of people around the gazebo. Mal heard Jessica say, “Caroline, let me introduce my cousin, Ren.”
Lucy spoke near Mal’s ear. “Which one of them would you marry? I mean, really?”
Mal glanced at her sidelong. Always laying traps for me, aren’t you, Lucy? “Both of them, obviously.”
Lucy snorted and shook her head. “Humans don’t do that.”
“Happily, I am not human.” Mal held out his arm. “Shall we go stir things up a bit? Lust and Avarice walked into a wedding… It’s not quite as good as Lust and Avarice walked into a bar.”
Lucy took his arm with a little smile. “I think for a wedding, we might have to be Love and Generosity.”
Mal gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Azrael says there are no such things as angels.”
“We can pretend.”
Chapter 47
Jessica
Jessica had seen Azrael off balance so often lately that she’d almost forgotten how smooth he could be in company. When he’s wearing a mask, she thought, playing a role, it’s easier for him. As her visiting cousin from the inner islands of the Shattered Sea, Ren was effortlessly charming, friendly, and politely inquisitive. Within moments of chatting with the bride, he’d learned who among the guests had originated from the deeper reaches of the Shattered Sea. Forty minutes after that, he’d had conversations with all of them. Jessica suspected that he was trying to learn whether any other magicians were in attendance.
“Ren,” she said to him out of the corner of her mouth, “please do not pick a fight with any of my friend’s guests.”
“I am not picking fights,” he said serenely. “I am protecting you from your middle name.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “You didn’t seem concerned about it four months ago.”
“That was before I received threats from the High Mage Council.”
Jessica threaded her arm through his. “I am certain that you are the only magician here.” She hesitated at the sight of Mal talking to a bridesmaid. “And even if by some strange chance you’re not, I’m sure you have the biggest…incubus.”
Azrael laughed.
Jessica crouched down as the flower girl—a little red-headed creature of about five—dashed up to her. “Auntie Jessica, Mommy says you like cats, and we have kittens! Do you want one?”
“That sounds very exciting!” said Jessica, now on eye-level with the child. “I already have a cat, but do tell me all about them.”
The child proceeded to describe the kittens as, “Toast, Butter, and Marmalade.”
“That sounds very food-oriented,” said Jessica. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”
“I’m starving!” said the girl, “but Mommy says we will eat soon.”
They did eat—sandwiches, hors d’oeuvres, punch, sparkling wine, and two kinds of cake. Mal might possibly have eaten a bridesmaid. He’d certainly messed up her hair. Lucy—who was introducing herself to people as Jessica’s grandmother—spoke long and earnestly to one of the groomsmen from the theater about his career.
Once Azrael satisfied himself that the guests were harmless, he took a seat and just watched them. After a while, Jessica joined him again. She watched the flower girl and two other children playing a sedate game of tag in their frilly clothes. She could almost feel Azrael’s eyes on her. Jessica thought he might ask a question she wasn’t ready to answer, so she said, “What were you doing when you were that age?”
Azrael glanced at the children. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, I was doing pretty much what they’re doing—playing with my cousins and brothers. Do you have any siblings that you know of?”
Azrael considered. “Not living. I arrived at the school when I was seven from a village decimated by plague. I don’t remember much before that, which is probably a mercy.”
Mal walked up behind Jessica and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned close and stage-whispered, “You two look conspiratorial.”
Jessica whispered back, “I’m trying to get him to tell me about his childhood!”
“Is it working?” asked Mal.
Azrael sipped his punch. “I’m right here, you know.”
Mal turned to him. “You said you’d tell us about it another time; is this another time? I ask only because I need to get away from a bridesmaid.”
“Looks like she needs to get away from you,” said Jessica doubtfully.
“Good idea,” said Mal. “Save her from me at once.” He glanced at Azrael. “Do you need to get really drunk first?”
Azrael made a face. “I hope not.”
“Good. Because these are not the right kind of drinks.”
“One poisoning,” said Azrael, “is enough.”
“So tell us!”
Azrael looked a little irritated. “There’s hardly anything to…” He looked around. “Fine. But not in the middle of all these people.”
He stood and started threading his way through the crowd, which, in spite of Mal’s judgment of the drinks, was getting tipsy enough to dance.
Lucy caught up with them on the edge of the group. “Are we going home now? I have told that poor young man everything he’s doing wrong in his business, but I don’t think he really wants my advice.”
“Not yet,” said Mal. “Azrael is getting ready to tell us about his terrible childhood!”
Azrael rolled his eyes. “It was not that terrible.”
Lucy looked thoughtful. She fell into step beside Jessica as they moved away from the wedding party, down one of the long, hedge-lined paths of the garden. “Agreed,” said Lucy at last. “The terrible part came afterward.”
“Has he told you?” exclaimed Mal. “Why does he tell you things he doesn’t tell me?”
“Probably because they’re about you.”
“I’m still right here!” snapped Azrael.
“Am I the terrible part?” Mal’s voice was suddenly plaintive.
Jessica threaded her arm through his and leaned against him. Formal social events always made Mal edgy. Jessica thought it was because he didn’t have the background and emotional context to understand them. Weddings, funerals, and births made him feel as though everyone—every human around him—was participating in a conversation he could not understand. “Why don’t you just let Azrael tell the story,” she said softly. “Stop trying to guess.”
Mal subsided. They were walking through a corridor of maples, tastefully adrift in scarlet leaves that reminded Jessica of the flower petals strewn by the children. There weren’t many actual flowers blooming at this time of year, but the garden made up for it in fall colors. Ahead, the carpet of crimson petered out against bright green grass and carefully pruned evergreens. An ornamental lake glistened beyond their trunks.
Azrael seemed in no hurry, either to talk or to get anywhere. They walked for thirty minutes, following paths around the edge of the lake. Some of the trees were obviously very old and pleasingly massive. Mounded shrubs delivered a panoply of colors and textures to break up the grassy vistas—orange, gold, red, green, with occasional sprays of flowers.
