Jovienne

by Linda Robertson

  Well, no one except God and other angels like Eitan. And demons.

  But short of that nothing could stop her.

  She held onto that thought as the sun’s last edge slipped over the horizon. Her temples and palms buzzed. The nape of her neck prickled.

  The Call That Followed hit her with increased intensity.

  The longer she remained immobile the more the Call’s undeniable sense of urgency provoked the quintanumin. God’s new monster was obliged to hunt.

  Her hands ran along her body, re-checking the placement of weapons. She’d loaded the leather jacket’s inner sheaths. The falchion rested in the center tail of the coat and the various pockets contained dozens of daggers and stars. She’d added a belt with sheaths now strapped to her thighs, and on it she carried two daggers with hollow handles capped to hold hallowed water within them.

  She dived into the wind. In that single act of obedience, she earned a reward: the brusque summoning diminished and her body filled with the touch of grace. The irritating buzz transformed into the reassuring purr of a lioness.

  Halfway down, her wings spread to slow her fall. Making a slight adjustment to the angle, she swooped around the skyscraper and headed toward Little Italy.

  The quintanumin guided her north-northwest, but the Call seemed farther away than she’d anticipated. According to her lessons, if she arrived in time, the demon would be in the initial stage seeking energy. If she were late it would have moved on to the violent stage and would be more difficult to deal with. When she neared the exact location where she would serve her first night and fight her second demon, she wasn’t surprised to see Broadway and the strip of bars with topless or nude dancers.

  She landed on a rooftop a half-block away and dematerialized the wings. They left her like a cloak blowing off in a great wind.

  Sprinting across rooftops, the force that impelled her onward zeroed in on the establishment ahead. She’d have wagered this demon was a possessor already inside a host. And because it was in this area, surely its motive was to gain energy from a sexual exchange.

  Her teeth ground as that thought led her to remember how Andrei’s cheeks had flamed when she asked him to explain the sexual exchange and how demons actually fed on an orgasm. He gave her no answer, so she’d sought answers in romance books from the library. Believing she understood sex and relationships, she’d dared to touch him.

  That had backfired.

  And now she was going to have to stop her enemy from doing something she longed to know and understand. That ignorance could be a hindrance. She was certain age was going to be a problem. She was a few years away from twenty-one.

  Door security people weren’t likely to let her in without ID. If she got lucky on that front but they checked her for weapons, they’d end up calling the police.

  Therefore, she decided to jump from the roof into the back alley where she wouldn’t be seen, and then walk to the front and find some place to watch the entry. When Jovienne made ready to leap, however, moaning in the alley below stopped her.

  She stared down, confused. A couple were entwined on the loading dock and seemed to be grappling. Then the man lay back and the woman bent forward until she was on all fours over him. It became obvious that they were not fighting. The woman’s short skirt was pushed up and revealed she wore nothing underneath. She writhed and gyrated atop the man. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Oooo, Daniel, you feel so good.”

  Jovienne looked away.

  But curiosity drew her gaze back. This was sex. This was what she’d wanted to learn about.

  Her demon hunt was forgotten.

  The needy, empty feelings of desire were supposed to be sated with tenderness, yet there weren’t any silk sheets and candles here like in the romance novels. The bass-heavy echo of the music inside the bar didn’t set a romantic mood. These people weren’t even kissing.

  She had a flashback of her near-rape at the demon’s hands.

  This scene below wasn’t forced, but it seemed so… animalistic …grinding and panting on dirty, unforgiving concrete.

  This is what it’s really like.

  Jovienne’s features hardened as reality slapped her again. She stepped away from the edge.

  The pull within her intensified, reminding her of her work. She strode to the end of the roof, intending to jump down and continue as planned.

  Yet her gaze slid to the roof edge again. It might be inside one of the people below.

  She could read the energy to determine if the demon was inside one of these people. If not, back to plan A.

  Long before she was given the quintanumin, Gramma taught her to discern the various energies in stones, and how to pull that energy into herself or transfer it from one stone to another. Tapping that skill, she stretched her palm out over the couple and let the energy from the alley rise against her skin.

  Eyes shut against the distracting sex, Jovienne concentrated hard on the center of her palm. An itch became a buzz like caressing sandpaper and a hot breath blew across her skin. Mortal instincts warned her to retreat, warring with the angelic compulsion to act.

  Convinced that the demon inhabited one of the people below, she was glad her prey was outside the bar.

  But there was still a problem. One of them was possessed and wouldn’t be in their own mind and wouldn’t remember, but the other would be a witness. Jovienne paced to the middle of the roof, deliberating. If she waited until they separated to pursue the demon, it would be stronger. If she made herself invisible, the non-possessed person would see something they’d never forget.

  Soft whimpering murmured up from below. Dagger drawn, Jovienne returned to the roof’s edge ready to intervene.

  The woman threw her head back. Her eyes shut and her expression could have indicated pain. The vocalizations sounded as if induced by pain and yet it was clear they were not. This woman was in control and made no attempt to disengage or stop her body from rocking. If anything, she was more intent on her movements.

  It wasn’t what the romance books portrayed as an orgasm but something warm stirred within Jovienne, rousing heat and a sweet, needy yearning low in her abdomen.

  Daniel sat up and nuzzled into the woman’s neck. She gasped, stiffened and stopped moving, eyes wide as her mouth opened and her hands rose.

  Jovienne ducked back, certain she had been seen.

  A moment passed and when the woman didn’t shout, Jovienne peaked over the edge. The scene continued as before, yet something wasn’t right. The woman’s gaze had gone vacant. Her arms hung limp. Daniel snuggled to her neck, holding her tight as his movement became urgent.

  Jovienne smelled something metallic.

  Blood.

  The woman’s torso slid to the side, revealing a blood-soaked shirt and a gaping hole in her neck. Daniel chewed what he’d torn from her throat and continued grinding her lifeless body against him.

  Stricken with remorse and nausea, Jovienne’s stomach lurched. If she’d eaten anything recently she would have done more than heave.

  Leaping onto the loading dock, she kicked his head and sent him sprawling down the steps. He used the woman’s body to pad his landing.

  If I’d used the quintanumin when I arrived, he would have been alerted. The fatal bite might not have happened!

  Daniel’s eyes flashed yellow as he scrambled to his feet. He clamored down the dark, litter-strewn alley jerking up his pants and ranting in a deep, demonic voice.

  Jovienne gave chase.

  My indecision cost that woman her life.

  She leapt and knocked Daniel to the ground. His head cracked against the blacktop. Jovienne curled her fingers in his hair and whacked his skull on the ground a second time.

  Daniel writhed beneath her. He squirmed and twisted. His head turned impossibly far to lick at her face with an unnaturally long tongue.

  Startled, she sat up and training kicked in: cast the possessor out and destroy it. Dagger poised before his face, she said, “Get out of this mort
al.” The body under her convulsed and twisted. In seconds, he lay on his back under her. He grabbed her waist and pumped his groin against her.

  Jovienne punched him hard in the jaw with her left, and then laid the blade against his neck with her right.

  Green foam bubbled from his mouth followed by a spray of chunks and bile.

  She leapt away sideways, put a shoulder down and rolled as the foul liquid spattered to the ground.

  Daniel sprang to his feet and fled. Jovienne followed, jumping over potholes and garbage bags that hadn’t made it into any of the dumpsters.

  When able to make a few steps without leaping, she threw a dagger. It dug deep into his hamstring. He screamed and fell. A snarl converted to a rumbling growl deep in his throat.

  Jovienne dropped daggers to the ground as she circled him. These should anchor the possessor in place, or at least partially block a retreat or charge.

  Daniel yanked the dagger from his thigh and flung it away. He twisted into a crouch, kicked the daggers away, and ran on.

  “Damn.” The host’s skin shielded him. Jovienne stood and dug two throwing stars from her pocket.

  She aimed, launched them, and they stuck in the backs of his knees. This time, he went down hard. His cheek cracked on the pavement.

  Now certain she could get the demon out, she had to collect her daggers in order to create a perimeter of the blessed blades and lock it within. Drawing one of the special daggers from her belt, she unscrewed the cap of the hollow handle and capped it with her thumb. “Leave this man or I’ll kill you both.”

  “You wouldn’t dare harm this mortal.” Bloodstained teeth spat over the shoulder.

  “Wouldn’t I?” Jovienne tapped one of the stars stuck in his knee with the sole of her boot.

  Screaming, the possessor shot up from the man’s torso and darted at her leg as if to possess her instead.

  She jerked the dagger tip into position and impaled the demon on the blade. Its mist-like form began to foam where the blessed weapon penetrated it.

  Daniel’s body went limp as he fell unconscious.

  Cupping her other hand beneath the hilt, Jovienne moved her thumb and let the hallowed water pour into her palm. The possessor shrieked. It wriggled, trying to free itself from the blade. With a flick of her wrist, she splashed the liquid on the demon. It smacked to the ground like a wet towel and dissolved into a smudge of steaming goo.

  Snickering trickled into the alley from the rooftop.

  Twisting to track the sound, Jovienne spotted a scarlet-winged angel on the roof who shook her head and said, “Disappointing,” before she sped off in a crimson flash. Eitan had mentioned an abhadhon working south of this zone.

  Collecting her strewn weapons, Jovienne noted the trembling in her hands. Not a good sign. But not unexpected either. First night ‘on the job’ and she was leaving an injured man and a dead woman behind.

  And the nosy neighbor witnessed this disaster.

  She picked up the last blade, cleaned and replaced it, and found herself a few steps from the body and inches from a spreading pool of blood. That metallic coppery smell filled her nostrils.

  Heat spread though her like a burning contagion. Her throat seemed to thicken as she studied the lifeless eyes. It was no way to die. No way to be found dead either, with her white blouse open to show blood-covered breasts and her black skirt pushed up around her waist like a deflated inner tube.

  An engagement ring sparkled in the moonlight. Jovienne wondered if Daniel gave it to her. Maybe he’d just asked her to be his wife. If so, their ‘together forever’ dream was over.

  Jovienne ran from the alley as if distancing herself from the mistake would make it easier to bear.

  WHEN ANDREI MADE his final leap down, he landed with one heel on a discarded cola can and gained small satisfaction from the crunching sound under his boot. Having reined in his emotions, he crossed to Howard Street and headed southwest with eager steps. McGhee’s was the only place he knew how to grieve.

  Cars honked and tires squealed in the intersection ahead. A woman in head-to-toe leather ran through the traffic.

  Jovienne! She’s alive?

  He gasped as she raced in front of moving vehicles, then sighed as she made it through unscathed. Her long strides carried her like the hounds of Hell were on her heels.

  She’s alive!

  He raced toward Fifth Street, pushing hard to keep her in sight.

  She disappeared around a turn. Afraid of losing her, he shouted her name. When he made the corner, she was posed in a ready stance and panting hard. Surprise widened her chocolate eyes for an instant before her expression slid into suspicion. Her arm twitched like she meant to reach for a weapon.

  He’d seen her happy, sad, and indifferent, but never displaying mistrust for him.

  She knows.

  His chin dropped and he stared at the sidewalk. He scratched at his forehead and shifted his weight. “You can come for your things. Whenever you’re ready.”

  She didn’t speak.

  He squinted at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course.” Her answer came too fast and the tone was a note too high.

  The few feet between them felt like miles. “Why are you running in front of cars like they aren’t even there?”

  “I’m doing my job.” Her fingers curled around the dagger on her belt.

  Her behavior made him consider pursuing an argument, but he had no right. He was no longer her pedagogue. Still, he had been for a long time; he knew her better than she knew herself. She was hurting. He kept his voice authoritative yet even and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “If you were, you’d tell me to go to Hell.”

  “Fine. There’s a dead woman in an alley,” she choked on the words but kept going, “and a man who needs an ambulance and a good lawyer. The possessor ate her throat while fucking her and I figure the murder evidence in his teeth is going to be hard to refute.” She clamped her jaw for a second, and then she sneered, “But the demon’s dead.”

  She’d always been hard and sassy, but calm and in control of herself. Now she was severe, unsettled, and distressed. He wanted to help her. Because she always beamed at his praise, he said, “Of course the demon is dead. I expect nothing but the best from you.”

  EIGHT

  JOVIENNE SPUN ON her heel and walked away. She didn’t need to be reminded of Andrei’s expectations. Aspiring to his lofty goals brought her to this point. And yet in spite of everything, seeing him confirmed that she still felt something.

  He fell in step beside her and grasped her arm. “Look, it’s obvious you’re not okay. What can I do?”

  ‘Don’t let the demon find any weakness. It will take advantage of any vulnerability it can find.’ The meaning behind his words before her test had not been a warning about poor defensive tactics. It was advice against caring for him. If she knew how to stop doing that she’d have done it long ago, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him or talk to him now.

  “You’ve done enough.” She jerked away and fled down Fifth Street. He called after her, but she didn’t stop.

  What could he do? She growled at the question. It’s a little late to ask that now.

  He had to know what happened in the test. He could have warned her. He could have said goodbye. Or good luck. He could have said something. He could have cared.

  She darted across the empty road and ran under the bridge of I-80. People mingled here, so she couldn’t go invisible or reform the wings or use the quintanumin to speed away, but she could outrun Andrei.

  Crossing the embarcadero, she zigzagged through various streets until she raced under the Port of San Francisco sign for Pier 50. Closed and empty, there was no one here who might see, she called for the extra speed though she’d outrun him blocks ago. Slowing, she found the transition out of the quintanumin was smoother than before.

  At the end of the concrete walkway was a steel raili
ng similar to the one on the Hyde Depository’s stairway. She stopped there and watched the moonlight dance on the water.

  He shackled me to a cruel deity.

  Why did I let him?

  Her hands clenched the iron rail and her knuckles whitened.

  All I saw was handsome Andrei who wanted me to train and learn. I was addicted to his praise and so I obliged him without questioning his motive or reward.

  Her eyes shut tight. I’m such a fool.

  A footstep scuffed on the pier behind her. “Jovienne.”

  Her eyes shot open, but she did not turn. Mentally, she kicked herself for not invoking invisibility.

  As he closed the distance between them, she loosened her grip on the railing. She drew another breath of salty ocean air and willed her shoulders to relax. Only then did she face him.

  For a heartbeat, seeing him illuminated in the moonlight made her knees weaken. His thick and spiky hair wavered in the Pacific breeze. It saddened her to realize that she was going to have to accept that he wasn’t the hero she’d thought he was…and that he never had been. “What did you get for training me?”

  He exhaled as if she’d kicked him in the stomach. His head dropped. “I thought I was buying some peace.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you thought you’d get,” she snapped. “What did you get?”

  He moved to stand at the rail beside her. He began, “I grew up in an orphanage in Russia—”

  “Jesus, Andrei. Forget the history and answer the damn question! What did you get?”

  “You have to know this to understand.”

  Jovienne snorted.

  “After all these years, will ten more minutes kill you?”

  Her arms crossed and she threw her hip to the side.

  “It wasn’t a bright day care center with hot meals and lots of toys. Unwanted children were dropped off like late library books. I don’t remember my parents, but I remember the cinders. I remember the panic.” His voice was soft, frightened. “I was four or five and couldn’t deal with what I saw or felt, so of course I got hysterical. Then the marms converged on me. They called my episodes ‘attacks’ and they were, but the marms were the ones attacking me. They tied me down on a cage-like bed and sedated me. All I knew was I couldn’t get away if those things came back.”