by Eden Bradley
“I don’t even know where to start. With him. With myself.”
“You’ll find the way. I know you will. He wants it, too. To be close to you. To be your father. All you have to do is allow him to.”
“Maybe. Or maybe too much time has passed. Maybe too many bitter things have been said. I don’t know.”
She sat up, looking squarely at him. There were tears pooling in her eyes. He couldn’t stand to see it. But he knew he wasn’t going to like what came out of her mouth.
“Declan, I don’t understand you! I’m trying so hard. You have a father. You have love, just waiting for you to reach out and grasp it.”
He ran a hand over his hair, frustration welling up in him like some toxin poisoning the moment.
“I don’t expect you to get this.”
“Why? Because I’ve never experienced a complicated relationship?” Her summer-blue eyes were blazing now. “Do you think my relationship with The Grandmother was without conflict, Declan? That even now my feelings for her are not complicated?”
“The woman is crazy!” he burst out. “Dangerous.”
Angel’s small fist pounded the bed beside her. “I know that! It doesn’t make things any easier—not in my heart, where it all happens. But, Declan…” She shook her head, the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “You have so much more…possibility with your father. So much more love. And you are being so stubborn.”
A smile threatened at one corner of his mouth. “You’re right. I’m stubborn as hell.”
She said quietly, “It does not always serve you well.”
“You’re right about that, too.” He sighed. “I have to think about it. Maybe talk to my dad.”
Not specifically about all the years he’d kept him at a distance, his old feelings of rage. But just talk.
“That’s all I’m asking. To open the way.”
His shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding them.
“Come here.”
He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly, melting against him. They stayed that way for a while, both of them calming down.
Angel was changing him, making things shift around inside his head. And it was all good, if a little scary. He could admit to being scared.
She was looking up at him, watching him, her face serene now. Certain. And he felt again a startling wave of love for her.
He wished he could feel some of her serenity. Her acceptance. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to love, and until he was, he’d better keep it to himself. He couldn’t burden her with his feelings. Not now, when she was still just beginning to find her way in the world.
“Angel, remember when we talked about selling your drawings? We should do it. We should go into Mendocino and talk to some people at the galleries, show them your work. Would you like that?”
“I think…it would make me feel more independent, if I were to earn my way. More useful. Stronger.”
“That’s what I was thinking. We can go tomorrow.”
“I would like that. And, Declan, we should take some of your carvings, too.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Those are just my own thing. I don’t feel a need to sell them.”
“It’s private,” she said.
“Yeah. It sort of is.”
But she made him realize that he had to find his way in the world, too. Maybe every bit as much as she did. He knew television and the internet, and all those things that were brand-new to her. But she knew a hell of a lot more about how people’s minds worked, somehow. Their hearts. That’s where he was fucking defective. She’d gotten him to open up, to love her, but he still had one hell of a mess in his head.
No, he’d keep it to himself until the right time. And if that time never came, well, maybe he’d get over this. Maybe it wasn’t really love at all, but some kind of obsession. What did he know about love, anyway?
All he knew right now was that she made his heart hammer in his chest. And it was a good kind of ache that made no sense to him at all. She made him want to put his arms around her and hold on.
Forever.
He knew he loved her, goddamn it. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
ANGEL HAD BEEN COMING TO talk to Ruth for three months, a little more, perhaps. And she still hadn’t talked to her of Asmodeus. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because she thought if she did, it would make him less real. Or make her see whether or not he truly was. She hadn’t been ready for that. But today was a new day.
She shifted on Ruth’s comfortable sofa, rolling the edge of her blue denim sundress between her fingers. Outside the window of Ruth’s office the fog rolled by in gray tufts. It was cold today, and she’d had to put a sweater on. But mostly she felt cold inside. She had for the past three days, ever since she’d talked to Declan about his father. About having to let go. She’d understood instantly what that meant for her, as well. And that cold had battled with the lovely, seeping warmth of what was growing between her and Declan.
The past few days with him had been amazing. She’d spent every night in his bed. They’d explored each other in ways even Asmodeus hadn’t known of. He couldn’t possibly know the touch of human flesh against flesh. The gentle heat that was the human body. The moistness of a tongue, the softness of lips on lips.
Declan went to work each day, and she spent her time reading, walking with Liam, cooking meals. Her body was healing from its wounds. Her heart was healing even more under Declan’s care. His affection. His touch. But despite the physical warmth of him, the warmth he brought to her heart, that one part of her was still cold, deep inside. The part that understood it was time to let go of Asmodeus.
“Angel?” Ruth’s voice pulled her back into the room. “You seem distracted today.”
“I’m sorry. I suppose I am distracted.”
“There’s something you want to tell me,” Ruth said. It was a statement, not a question. She wasn’t surprised. Ruth often knew things before Angel spoke. That was her way.
“I have something important to tell you, Ruth.” Why was it so difficult to speak? To make her voice come out in anything above a harsh whisper?
Ruth waited, her face calm. She would wait out their entire hour together, until Angel was ready to talk. That was her way, too.
She pulled her gaze from the window to look at Ruth, took a breath, and began. “I’ve told you about The Grandmother. About how she raised me. The drugs to dream. The rituals. The compound. I’ve told you about my purpose as The Gift.”
“Yes. But there’s more?”
Angel nodded, her stomach a tight knot. “I’ve left something out. Something important.”
“Okay.”
Ruth waited some more. Angel tried to get her thoughts in order. What did she need to tell? She knew enough now about this world to understand how strange Asmodeus would seem to most people, even though he was as familiar to her as her own skin. Even to Ruth, who accepted everything without judgment.
“I told you I was trained in the art of love. How to please a male. That I was untouched by man. But I didn’t tell you how I was trained. Or by whom. This has been my one secret from you. And I’m not sure I even understand why I’ve kept it to myself.”
“Everyone is allowed to have their secrets, Angel. You tell me things as they occur to you, or as you’re ready to talk about them.”
“I’m ready now.” She paused, bit her lip as her pulse kicked up a notch. “I think I am.”
Ruth nodded, waited.
“His name is…Asmodeus.” A hard rush of heat that wasn’t entirely pleasant ran up her spine as she said the words aloud. “I don’t know why it’s hard to say his name here. To say it to another person aside from The Grandmother.” She paused, took a long breath before continuing. “When I call to him I am always in the dream place. The place that was shown to me with the dreaming herbs. I came to know it, and can reach it whenever I sleep. I can go there when I want to. To see him. It�
��s his place. But he doesn’t belong here, on this plane. And so talking about him feels…wrong.”
She stopped, unsure of where to go next. Her head was aching.
“The name is familiar to me. I know ‘Asmodeus’ as the prince of carnality in the Christian hierarchy of demons. Is this who you’re telling me about?”
“Yes.”
“And he comes to you in your sleep?”
She nodded. “He has been the one to train me since I was twelve years old. He’s been my only friend, if you can call him that. He was my teacher. My companion. He showed me so many things. Talked with me. But now…now I’m doubting my need for him any longer. I am doubting his very existence. And I’m afraid of what that makes me. That I am…insane, perhaps, to think he’s real.”
Ruth leaned forward in her chair and patted Angel’s hand. Her touch was warm. Reassuring. “I don’t believe you’re insane, Angel. I think you’ve been given certain information, your brain more easily programmed by the drugs and the rituals and what you’ve been told by The Grandmother, the only person you had in your environment. That can be a very powerful thing for a child. What else could you have possibly known?”
“But I know now. About the world. And I have to question what’s real and what were lies The Grandmother told me. I have to begin to sift through it, to separate it all out. I’ve been doing that since the day I woke up in the hospital and realized my old life was over, that I was out in the world. And I think…” Her heart was beating a million miles a minute. Could she really say the words out loud? “I think Asmodeus was a lie. I am really beginning to think so. Yet he seems so real to me, still. It’s as though my mind knows the truth but my heart is afraid…”
“The truth can often be scary.”
“But it doesn’t make it any less true, does it?”
“No.” Ruth smiled. Her dark, beautiful eyes had always seemed to hold the truth of the universe, some ultimate form of comfort and wisdom. She could see it all in her gaze now. “Angel, tell me what you think you might lose if you decide to face what you see now as your truth about Asmodeus.”
Her hands twisted together in her lap, her fingers twining until they hurt. But she needed it, needed something to ground her. Something to hang on to. “My only friend. The only thing left that is familiar. The one anchor to my old life. This new one is still so new. It feels…tentative. Except for Declan. Even with him, I am sometimes uncertain if he’s any more real than Asmodeus.” She stopped, shook her head. “I don’t mean that I ever truly believe this is some sort of dream that will vanish when I wake up. But those thoughts are in the back of my mind. I can’t help it.”
“Most people have thoughts that roam through their mind that don’t entirely make sense,” Ruth told her. “It’s perfectly normal. Your mind has to weigh things before it makes a decision, that’s all.”
“It sounds so simple when you put it that way.”
“Sometimes it is simple. You consider something, make a decision about it and move on. But other things are more complicated. You’ve been moving forward at a pretty amazing pace for someone who’s experienced the things you have, the life you’ve led.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“But this…?”
“You know the answer already. You just need some time to accept it. Why do you think this issue seems so pressing now?”
“Because of being with Declan. Knowing what love feels like. Being close to another human being. It’s so much more.”
Ruth nodded. This was the first time Angel had had a chance to tell her about what had happened with her and Declan, and she didn’t go into detail now. She never had to, with Ruth. Ruth always understood, and simply accepted.
“Have you told Declan about Asmodeus?” Ruth asked.
“I told him a little while ago. I don’t know if he quite believed me. Or perhaps he thought it was some leftover delusion from the drugs. We haven’t discussed it again. I haven’t told him I continued to talk with Asmodeus. I don’t want to talk to him about this. I feel as if it’s my own to deal with. Do you think I should?”
“I think you need to decide how you feel about Asmodeus, despite Declan’s presence in your life. How you may feel about him, or him for you. Then you can decide what to tell him.”
“Do you think this is love, if I keep something from him?” Angel asked.
“You are allowed to have your own thoughts, Angel. You never have to give that to anyone. Only as much as you choose.”
She nodded. Ruth’s words made sense. Love was without judgment.
“So, you and Declan are together. How have you been feeling since being with him?”
“The same as always. And different, too. He’s a good person. Better than he knows. I love him. It grows each day. It’s one of the few things I’m utterly certain about.”
“And Declan?”
“I believe he loves me. I feel it. And I think it’s good for him, to love.”
“I think so, too.” Ruth smiled.
Angel let her gaze wander to the window again, shivered a little at the grayness outside. “I love Asmodeus, too. Or, I thought I did. I don’t know anymore.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruth shrug. “Love is love, Angel. It exists, we can’t deny that. And love is always a good thing.”
“Even if he is a product of my imagination and the years of drugs? The years of The Grandmother telling me he exists? Programming me, as you said.”
“Even then,” Ruth said. “For my people, the Hopi, love is central to existence. In humans. In animals. Part of every individual’s life path is to find love wherever you can. You’re still discovering your path, but love is the guiding light. It always has been for you, I think. That is, in my mind, anyway, part of why you’ve been so largely untouched by the hard life you’ve led. You are so able to love, Angel. That is the gift.”
“I hope so. I hope it’s enough. But, Ruth, if I love Asmodeus, how can I give him up? Yet, I feel I must if I’m to have Declan. If I am to have a life.”
“Love is also letting go. But you already know that, don’t you?”
It was true. She and Declan both had to learn it. They were on the same path perhaps.
“I still don’t know what to do. If I need to say goodbye to Asmodeus yet. If I’m ready.”
“You’ll know when it’s time, Angel.”
She nodded. Ruth always spoke the truth. She didn’t doubt the validity of what she was telling her. She only doubted herself. She needed a little more time. To grow. To learn. To love Declan and be loved by him. Love, as Ruth had said, was her guide. Love would tell her what to do. It was the one thing she was ready for.
* * *
SHE WAS STILL THINKING of her conversation with Ruth, thinking about love, when Declan came to pick her up from Ruth’s office.
He pulled up in his truck where she waited in front of the building, wanting the fresh air, the scent of salt and forest. Now all she wanted was him.
Declan.
He got out of the truck and took her easily into his arms to kiss her. His lips were warm and soft and tasting of him. Her body softened all over, and she forgot for the moment her tension and confusion. He did that for her. Made her feel warm and safe. Made her body heat with need, her heart fill with love, until she forgot everything else.
Sometimes it was good to forget.
“Declan, take me home,” she whispered into his neck.
“Are you tired after your session with Ruth?”
“No. But I want to be home with you.”
It didn’t take long to reach the house, or at least, it didn’t seem long. They were both quiet on the drive. Dreamy, close. Declan kept his arm around her, and she kept her eyes closed, enjoying his solid body next to hers, the hum in her veins from the anticipation of being with him, his body joined with hers. It was never enough, with him.
They pulled up in front of the house and he turned the engine off.
> “Declan…”
“What is it?”
“I need you. I need you inside me. I need to come again and again.”
She always wanted him. Always. She felt some edge of desperation, suddenly, and understood what it was about. But she didn’t want to think of him now. She only wanted to think of Declan.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Come on.”
He led her into the house, and they gave Liam the briefest of greetings before Declan pulled her down the hall and into the bathroom. He helped her off with her sweater, then pulled her dress over her head, her soaking wet panties down her legs, until she stood naked before him.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful, Angel. My beautiful girl.”
There was awe in his voice, and a lovely raw desire laced with unspoken emotion, yet she knew it was there. She loved hearing that edge in his voice. That edge that was purely sex to her, the emotion only making it more intense.
“Now you,” she said softly, unbuttoning his flannel shirt.
She couldn’t wait to see his naked body, to feel the contrast of smooth skin over hard muscle beneath her palms.
His shirt came off, his boots, his pants, and soon he was as naked as she was. Naked and achingly beautiful to her. She reached out and placed both hands over his chest, his dark nipples coming up hard against her palms.
He was watching her, his eyes gleaming that dark iris-blue, nearly purple, the color of a deepening night sky. His features had gone a little slack with his desire, and she glanced down to find he was beginning to harden beautifully.
He leaned in and murmured against her cheek, “I want to have you in the shower, Angel. To feel your skin wet and hot and slippery.”
“Yes…”
He let her go, stood back and simply looked at her for a moment, his gaze hungry, before he reached in to turn the shower on.
“Get in,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
She stepped into the white tiles, beneath the warm spray and waited, leaving the glass door open for him. She loved the shower. She had only ever taken a bath before she’d come out into the world, and the feel of warm water cascading over her body was always incredibly sensual to her. It was about to become more so with Declan in there with her. She could hardly wait.
