Daman's Angel (Crimson Romance)

by Charmaine Ross

  It had been just a dream. Daman remained in her mind. He hadn’t been real. Her heart thumped erratically between her ribs, pounding the blood through her veins. Her mind was the thing that had tricked her. It only served to let her see what she’d lost.

  “What do you want?” she asked through cracked lips.

  Vincent stretched his mouth into what he must have thought was a smile. “I’m glad you asked. It all was brought about by your cop-friend. You know he’s a murderer himself?”

  She glanced at Vincent, saw the smug smile on his mouth before she dropped her gaze to the ground. He dropped to his haunches in front of her so that she had no choice but to look at him.

  “I see you didn’t. Let me fill you on some details he might have left out. He’s been responsible for the death of many of my friends. It seems as though he hadn’t learned his lesson as he kept on coming for us day after day. One sunny afternoon he had more balls than sense. He broke into my father’s house and killed him. Straight-out bloodthirsty murder. My father had more work to be done here, and Daman Quade took his life with no more consideration than you’d give a dog you had to put down. You can imagine my pain. He had to learn so I had his wife put down. But that still hasn’t stopped him,” Vincent shook his head. “He has been a thorn in my side for more years than I care to remember. I warned him through the death of his wife, but even that hasn’t deterred him. But now, there’s you. You can make things right again. I asked for retribution and you were sent to me. All the injustice I have suffered in this life has been brought to pass.”

  He was in a psychotic world, where sins and immortality were blurred lines. A dangerous place to be.

  “I don’t understand what you want me for,” she said.

  “You are the key, my dear. You can bring me back what I’ve lost all these years. I want you to bring back my father to me.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. The full horror dawning on her. “That’s impossible.”

  “It wasn’t for Haki. Or for Christ. He rose after three days.”

  “There is no body for your father to come back to.”

  Vincent shrugged. “I can always get one of those.”

  “He’s been gone for too long. He might have moved on from the Eternity to other dimensions.”

  “My father would never do that. He would never leave me. Our legacy is too important.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Vincent snorted. “You don’t know how close our bond is. He will want to be back here with me. That is fact.”

  “But … the ramifications … ” Vincent’s father was an evil man. How could a man who loved be able to bring up a boy such as Vincent to grow to the man he was now. He would know what death would bring him and there would be no stopping him if he came back into life knowing what he now knew. The outcome would be disastrous.

  “It can be done and you will do it,” Vincent purred, justified in his request. He tilted his head so that he watched her down the length of his nose, his eyes gleaming with self-satisfied success. So sure of himself that she would agree to his crazy request. There was only one answer she would give.

  “No. I will not do it.”

  Vincent watched her silently. She saw his eye blaze beneath their blank veneer. Without her knowing what he was going to do, he stood and rammed a fist into her jaw. Her teeth smashed together, rattling through her skull. Her head snapped, the force sending her careening back in the chair. It unbalanced, tilted backward. No hand stopped her that time. The tilt became a fall and she smashed onto the hard, cold concrete.

  The air from her lungs burst. Her chest spasmed, refusing to open for air. She tried to force oxygen down her throat, panic rising up from her gut. Then her restricted chest opened, as though the body knew that it must breathe in order to live and she dragged air into her lungs with a desperate, hitching sound. She closed her eyes while her heart stopped trying to beat a way out from her chest. She waited as her body adjusted after the shock. She rested her head on the concrete, eyes shut, waiting until the pain started to fade.

  There was no doubt Vincent was mad. What he asked her to do was even more mad. There was no way she would bring back a person who had been taken to the Eternity to come back to earth to continue the deeds he had started in a life that was finished. Together the pair of them would be an evil force that would take many innocent lives. She couldn’t do this.

  She only hoped that she would die before her hours were finished. Then she would be stuck here and be of neither world. What she did now as an angel on earth, she would no longer be able to do. She had to anger Vincent so much that he would kill her now. While she still had time. That was her only escape.

  She coughed her voice back. “Your father was evil. I don’t bring back that type of person.”

  “You brought back Haki.”

  “I’ve learned since then. Do your worst to me, but I’ll never bring back your father.”

  Silence. She waited for another rattling blow, but none fell. She cracked open her eyes. Vincent stalked the shadows, displeasure masking his face. He stopped, pivoted and came toward her, lips curving in a sneer.

  “I have to admit, you’re right. You’ll never help me no matter how hard I hit or hurt you. You don’t seem to care about that. But the cop is different, isn’t he?”

  Angel closed her eyes again. Daman was dead. There was nothing Vincent could do to make her do what he wanted. She wouldn’t bring Daman back. He’d had his share of pain of this world. Time for him to finally rest. Only through the pain of losing him did she know what he had suffered. She couldn’t ask any more than that.

  “Nothing you can say will get me to do it,” she murmured. She opened her eyes to see him crouching over her. “There is enough time for you to right your ways. You can change what you’ll receive in the next Eternity.”

  His face opened in mock surprise. “Change my ways and gain entrance to heaven? Redeem myself? The priest also tried that on me and I smashed his nose before I put a bullet in his stomach. The only person who’ll be changing their tune is you.”

  Vincent abruptly stood. “Go back to the church. Get the cop.”

  There was a flurry of footsteps as the warehouse emptied.

  “He’s dead. He’s not coming back,” she said.

  Vincent walked away. His steps faded to the back of the warehouse. “For you? We’ll see,” he said softly. The door clicked shut.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Wake up, dear boy.”

  With an effort borne of sheer determination, Daman cracked open his eyes to a small slit. Darkness edged his vision. A face swam above him, made of shadows and muted skin color. He concentrated and the face became a name.

  “Father Joseph!” Daman tried to sit up, but was stopped by hot pain that ripped through his side. He dropped back to the ground, sucking in air and riding the agony until it became a dull throb and he could collect his wits again.

  He blinked back his vision. The priest was still there. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was an unrecognizable croak.

  Father Joseph smiled. His eyes held a look that was happiness and grief all mixed into one. However, you couldn’t have both together; it was either one or nothing. Daman had never seen a happy grief, or known that grief could allow you to be happy, too.

  Another face appeared over the priest’s shoulder. It was the most handsome face Daman could recall. Not movie star looks, but something that went much deeper. Strong, well-balanced features, a long nose, chiseled cheeks and a firm mouth. Serious. Masculine.

  Short-cropped blond hair was brushed back in well formed waves. Beneath an unlined forehead were clear blue eyes. The color of the Mediterranean in summer. Or the sky in a photograph taken with a blue-toned lens. There were only one set of eyes that were similar to those.

  They we
re the pair that shone and sparkled when they looked at him. These eyes, belonging to the man, were compassionate, but restrained. Curious, but not overly willful. There was nothing familiar flashing behind them. No niggling feeling that there was so much more to the warm looks he caught them soaking into him.

  They contained none of the emotions that the pair of eyes he’d fallen in love with contained.

  “Angel!” he cried out, staggering to his knees. “They have Angel!”

  Despair kicked his gut. He bent double, dry-retched, clutching his side. Red-black blood oozed between his fingers as the wound in his side stretched and tore, but it was nothing to the pain of knowing he’d lost Angel.

  “I know, my son. And we are here to help.”

  Daman turned his head and regarded the priest. “I felt your pulse. There was nothing. You were cold. Shot dead.”

  “And yet you can see I’m quite alive. In fact, I’ve never felt so good in my … life.”

  Daman inspected the man, who still had yet to move or speak, behind the priest. “You look familiar. Like … Angel.”

  Daman sucked in a breath as realization dawned. “You are dead. And you have come to take him.”

  The angel bowed slightly and the Father beamed. “You are a smart boy. I pleaded my case for help. I can’t go onwards if there’s unfinished business still on earth.”

  Daman’s face flushed with red heat and his skin prickled. He tried to breathe, but couldn’t kick the airless feeling that constricted his lungs. He twisted onto his side to ease pressure on his chest. His feet knocked something when he moved. Daman looked down to see what he’d kicked and saw the priest’s too-still feet behind the altar. Black blood had pooled and sunk to stain the stone floor beneath them. So much blood. He closed his eyes against the sight, resisting the nausea that roiled in his gut.

  “Oh, God. I was too late,” Daman gasped.

  “Calm yourself. It was my time to go. I’m happy to have helped so many people in my church and the next adventure beckons. My only regret is that I didn’t help you more, and now I find I’m in a position where I can. It is beyond my expectations. In truth, you, my dear boy, were my last case. The one and only true hero I wanted so desperately to help. When I saw you with Angel, I knew … knew she had come for you and that she would be the only one that could save you from yourself. You have put yourself through enough, and now it’s time to right the wrongs.”

  “I know who did this to you, Father, and believe me when I tell you they will pay for coming here and murdering you. It’s my fault they knew about you. I should never have brought Angel here. I knew they’d traced me when I left that day. And then I went away. I should have offered you protection.”

  “Don’t fall into your old ways. All is forgiven. I knew what I was doing, who I was helping. These men are bad and they are ruthless. I know what a struggle it has been for you to bring them to justice. I want to help and now I find myself in a position where I can.”

  There was a hand on his shoulder. Daman peered around through bleary eyes. “Pete,” he croaked. “You’re alive!”

  “And kicking.” Pete smiled. He wiped the blood at his temple. “Well, alive. Seems the bullet nicked my skin. Have a hell of a headache, but I think I’ve come out of it a little bit better than the priest.”

  “That depends on how you look at it.” Father Joseph smiled.

  This was too much. “You know about this?” Daman said to Pete.

  Pete nodded, then winced. “Woke to find them staring down at me. Seems the Father was here since we walked through the door, but wasn’t in a position to show himself.”

  Daman turned to the priest. “You saw everything?”

  Father Joseph nodded. “We both did.”

  “Both?”

  “Antimedus and I.”

  The father indicated the blond man next to him that had yet to utter a sound. “My Death Angel. Although he stayed in spirit for my departure. Seems like the book was true. You do need flesh and blood in combination with spirit for an angel to become part of this earth. And the will for it to happen.”

  Antimedus bowed formally. His features were stern and serious. Daman was glad that it was Angel who had come for him and not this severe man.

  “The page you hid, Father. Is it true?”

  Antimedus answered. “It is true. It is a sin for an angel to become flesh and blood. If they do not return within the three days, it is written they will walk the earth until the end of days as punishment.”

  “It isn’t a punishment to live and love,” Daman said.

  “Ah, the boy has learned a lesson. Hard won, I think.” The priest’s eyes gleamed over his smile.

  Daman studied the priest. Gone were the jowls, the heavy eyelids and the ever-growing large red nose. The spirit was able to ignore the deprivation of growing old. In fact, the Father looked healthy and youthful. Transformed.

  “You look good for a dead man, Father,” Daman said.

  Father Joseph chuckled. “I feel better than I ever did while I was alive, to tell you the truth. But I mustn’t say too much. Antimedus will help us as long as I don’t give too many secrets away, hey, Ant?” The priest winked at Antimedus.

  Daman was astounded to find the angel’s mouth twitch.

  “Won’t he be missed if he doesn’t have you at the pearly gates in a certain time?” Pete asked.

  “There is no time,” Antimedus said. “It is a mere illusion.”

  “Seems pretty realistic from where I’m sitting.”

  “I’ll second that,” Pete said. He winced as he scraped blood from the side of his head. “Hey, can you do anything about these injuries?”

  Antimedus knelt before Pete and put his hands to the wound. “Flesh and blood can be manipulated like clay. Where there was once a tear, now it has healed. All that is needed is knowledge and the power of the mind.”

  Antimedus placed his hands over Pete’s wound. His hands glowed golden and warm where they cupped the injury. The light vanished and Antimedus stepped away. “It is done.”

  Stunned, Pete tested where his wound had been. He looked at Daman, clearly amazed. “I don’t feel anything. It’s healed, like nothing’s happened to me. I feel great.”

  “I wish I did,” Daman said. The bullet holes in his side and arm throbbed with blinding intensity.

  Antimedus placed one hand at Daman’s side, and the other on his wound on his shoulder. There was no weight to his touch, no sense of being touched, but soon a burning heat warmed his skin. It was hot, as though the sun heated his clothes and burned the skin beneath, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The heat intensified. There was a slight tingling at the wounds that wasn’t unpleasant — quite the opposite — then Antimedus returned to his standing position behind Father Joseph.

  Daman tested his shoulder. There was no pain. He rolled his arm. It had never felt better. Carefully he stood and stretched his body. Hs lifted his shirt. Although the tear in the materials was there, bloodied and messed, there was no sign of the wound. He pressed the skin to find a mark, but there was none. Angel had done the same for him that first morning he woke to see her in his bed.

  He’d do anything to be able to wake to have her there again. Just once more. He couldn’t even wish for such a miracle. Too much to hope he would wake to find her next to him every morning for the rest of their lives.

  “It’s a miracle,” Pete said.

  “The gift of healing has been given to mankind a multitude of times throughout the ages, but it has been neglected and ignored. Burned at the stake of fairytales,” stated Antimedus.

  “You mean people could do this for other people?” Pete asked.

  “All that is needed is the knowledge and right frame of mind and anything can be achieved. It has been done in the past, but humankind is still afraid of the unkn
own. There is so much more you can achieve. Your minds are still truly babies. You limit only yourselves.”

  “How could you know this?” Daman asked.

  “We are the harbingers, the bridge between the Eternity and Earth. All you need to do is ask and it will be given, again and again if required. We are here for you. We do not tire of helping.”

  Daman hooked Antimedus’s gaze. “You save people. Do you save angels?”

  Confusion washed Antimedus’s features. His brows lowered, straightened over his intelligent eyes.

  Daman looked at the priest. “Have you told him?”

  “I was in the process before you came into the church. He’s seen Angel, and what she did.”

  “Ahhh, yes.” Antimedus acknowledged. “It is highly irregular that an angel chooses this path.”

  “Then it’s happened before?”

  Antimedus shrugged one shoulder. “Throughout the ages. Yes. As angels, it is our life to do our duty. But there are others who seek to experience more. To experience the wonder of life.”

  “I can see you don’t understand why she did what she did,” Daman said.

  “It is not for me to question another’s motives. We simply accept.”

  Daman clenched his fists. Angel was worth fighting for. Even if it meant his death, he would make sure she would be saved. “I’m not just accepting. I’m fighting because she’s worth fighting for. Ever felt anything like that before, Antimedus?”