by C. L. Coffey
Nyle hurriedly shook his head. “No, it’s the onions,” he said, holding up half a white globe he had been chopping.
“I know,” I sighed. “One day, you’ll laugh.”
“One day you’ll tell a funny joke,” Sarah snorted.
“My jokes are funny,” I objected.
Sarah arched an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever laughed at your pink gorilla joke?” she asked.
I folded my arms and nodded.
Sarah, who had been kneading what looked like pastry, paused, skepticism lining her eyes. “Has anyone other than you laughed at your pink gorilla joke?”
“I would like to hear this pink gorilla joke,” Nyle said. I beamed, giving Sarah a pointed look.
“Nyle, you may be immortal, but I am not,” Sarah sighed. “I neither have a lifespan long enough to hear it, nor the willpower to survive it,” she informed him.
I poked a tongue out at her, and then turned back to Nyle. “I will tell you later, but only because you’ll be laughing so hard, you might cut your finger off.”
“I suppose that’s one way to get away from it,” Sarah muttered.
“You know, I came in here to help,” I shot at her.
“You came in here to see what you could eat,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “I know you, remember.” I shrugged, scanning the kitchen tops. She was right, but I had timed my visit to the kitchen wrong. There was nothing worth eating just yet. “But while you’re here, you might as well help with those potatoes,” she said, pointing at an enormous pile Nyle had yet to get started on.
I found a peeler and did as requested. Sarah and Nyle picked up their conversation – apparently she was teaching him the trick to perfect pastry – while I listened in silence.
I was about halfway through the pile when I realized I couldn’t put off emptying the trash can I was using any longer. After the look my aunt gave me at the fourth time some peelings fell from the top of the pile to the floor, I sighed and tied the bag off, heading outside to the dumpsters.
The dumpsters weren’t really near the kitchen. They lived in a little side alley, out of the way, but in an area they could be emptied easily. It was a quick walk through the gardens, past the white nun statues. I slung the bag in the closest dumpster and made my way back when someone saying my name had me squealing in shock. I leaped around to seek out the source of the noise – spotting Paddy curled up under a tree with a book. “What are you doing here?” I asked in surprise. I honestly thought she had left with Raphael. I hadn’t seen her for a week. “Is Raphael back too?”
Paddy slowly shook her head. “Raphael left without me.”
My eyes widened. “He left you here?” It was my turn to shake my head. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Well, not in the garden,” she smiled. “Raphael needed to do something by himself. I said I would stay here in case I was needed.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Paddy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “He mentioned something about Canada, but he’s not checked in for a while.”
“Do we need to be worried about that?” I asked, frowning. The last thing anyone wanted was another angel disappearing.
“Not yet,” Paddy responded. She got to her feet and brushed some dirt off her legs. “I came to see you the other night.”
“I was in Houston,” I said. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Paddy assured me. “Don’t worry about me or Raphael, Angel. We can take care of ourselves. Besides, if there was something wrong, you and Cupid would certainly be first in line to know.” She shook her head. “I came to offer to continue with your training in Raphael’s absence. I am by no means as skilled as he is, but after being with him for several centuries, I have picked up a trick or two. I’m aware that neither he nor Michael were able to continue with teaching you.”
I pushed back a lump that had formed in my throat at the mention of Michael’s name, and nodded. I would take anything I could get, and Paddy might not have been at Raphael’s level, but I was certain I was nowhere near hers either. “That would be greatly appreciated,” I told her as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
“Tomorrow morning?” she suggested. “After breakfast? I’ll help with the cleanup too.”
“That sounds great,” I agreed as my phone vibrated again. I flashed Paddy a smile and headed back to the kitchen, plucking my phone out. The first message was from Ty. I caught a plea to text him, before I swiped and deleted it without reading it properly. The second was from Joshua: Hey darlin, need to speak to u. Are u free? X
I responded with a yes and hurried back inside to let my aunt know I had to go. I made a detour to the armory to slip my dagger-length sword into my boot (there was no way I was going to the police station without it), and headed for the back gate to wait for Joshua.
He was only a few minutes late, but I was shifting my weight from one leg to the other when he pulled up. The crowd had grown slightly around the front of St. Mary’s and I was certain one of the women kept looking over at me. I slid into the front of Joshua’s Charger as quickly as I could, slipping low into the seat.
“You okay?” Joshua asked me, arching an eyebrow.
“Just go,” I said, waving my hand at him. “Before they spot me.”
An amused smile appeared on his lips, but Joshua did as requested and pulled away. When we turned the corner, I pulled myself upright. “You want to explain what that’s about?”
“My hair isn’t exactly subtle, is it?” I pointed out. “It’s not like I blend into the background, and when there are people still hanging around the church, and I’m making the news, I probably shouldn’t be drawing attention to the convent. This vessel may be a mask,” I sighed, remembering Michael’s words. “But it doesn’t do a good job of hiding me from the world.”
“Vessel?” Joshua asked in confusion.
I glanced over at him, surprised to see the frown. “My body is a vessel,” I explained. “I thought I had told you this? It’s frozen in time and never going to age. Apparently I’m going to have to change it before people start to realize I’m not aging.”
“You did, but you’ve never referred to your body as a vessel,” he said, his eyes flicking over to meet mine. “Darlin’ that’s not your vessel, that’s you. You might be some celestial being, but you’re still you – right from that bright red hair, to that ass I really like staring at.”
I could feel my cheeks warming but I shook my head. “And what about in twenty years when I have another vessel? Another body?”
“I don’t see what you’re getting at?” Joshua said.
“Well, I’m already not me,” I responded. I reached up and held a handful of hair out. “This isn’t me. I’m blonde.”
Joshua reached over and tugged the hair free of my grasp, wrapping the ends around his fingers. “Where has this come from?” he asked gently. The car came to a stop as he waited for a delivery truck to back into a loading bay, and he took the opportunity to turn in his seat to face me. “You were blonde. You’re now a redhead, albeit the red looks the color of a red M&M, which is great, because they’re my favorite, but that’s just part of you. I know you shouldn’t judge based on appearance, and I don’t, but you also shouldn’t forget that your appearance is something that has made you who you are. Yeah, you were blonde, but now you’re not. You chose to put that color on and you may not have wanted it to stay like that, but it says a lot about who you are.”
“It does?” I asked in bewilderment.
“Of course it does, darlin’,” Joshua said. “You could have picked any shade of red and you went for one that stands out – like you. It’s bold, and confident – like you. It’s also incredibly hot,” he leaned over and kissed the side of my head. “Like you. The color of your hair is not much different from the makeup you wear and it doesn’t matter to me what color your hair is. Even if it was lime green like you were an anime character, you’d still be beautiful because it’s just an extension of
you, of your personality. Your looks, red hair included, are certainly what attracted me to you, but darlin’, who you are, that’s what’s making me fall in love with you.”
His words sent a rush of warmth through me as butterflies made a sudden appearance in my stomach. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t change a hair on your head, but if you did, I’m just going to sit back and enjoy because really, you’re just showing me another little part of you. So quit referring to that cute ass as a vessel, because you’re more than that.”
I blinked a few times, and then, because I apparently couldn’t help myself, asked, “But what if my next vessel – body – is of a sixty-year-old man?”
“I have a feeling that you have more say over your next body than you think you do,” Joshua told me. “I’m pretty confident that you’re staying female darlin’, and I think that body will be beautiful because you’re the one in it.”
Well, hell. I had spent some time trying to convince myself that I wasn’t falling in love with him and I was right – I was definitely head-over-heels in love with him, and with those words, I wasn’t even going to bother telling myself otherwise. I opened my mouth to tell him this, but stopped myself. It had only been a couple of months. You couldn’t fall in love with someone that fast, could you? And if I could, that didn’t mean he had – his words were falling in love.
“But,” Joshua added as he started the car moving again. “If you want to change your hair to green and look like an anime character, can you do me a favor and promise me you’ll wear one of those hot superhero outfits that really don’t cover up much?” he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Behave!” I exclaimed, swiping at his arm. Either way, the moment was now lost.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Can’t Keep My Hands Off
“Where are we going?” I asked as I we waited for a street car to pass. Joshua’s message had been pretty ambiguous, and I wasn’t bothered, but he looked like he was heading somewhere with a purpose and it wasn’t in the direction of the precinct.
“Leon needs to speak to you,” Joshua replied. “He didn’t want to leave a record on the phones, and doesn’t want to make it anything formal at the station.”
“Where on earth are we going?” I asked again as we pulled onto the interstate, heading west.
“Not far,” he assured me. “There’s a garage out in Kenner and my car needs new tires. Kenner is also where Leon lives. We’re meeting him at a diner across the street.”
Kenner wasn’t far, but I couldn’t help but pull a face. “Do you really think we need to go to this much trouble?”
“Our lieutenant is a Prince of Darkness and there’s a possibility that any number of our colleagues could be being possessed. Better to be safe than sorry,” he pointed out.
I frowned and turned my attention back out of the window, once again, wondering why Michael thought I was suitable to lead the House. I didn’t have a clue about things like this, and surely this was something basic? What else was I not thinking about when it came to the other angels and how to protect them?
Once we’d dropped the car off at the garage, we took a short walk to the diner Joshua had mentioned, where we found Leon waiting for us in a booth in the back. I tucked in first and then Joshua followed. The booth was in a corner where we wouldn’t be noticed straight away, but allowed Leon a clear view of the door. They really were thinking of everything.
“As far as I can tell, Asmodeus doesn’t suspect anything,” Leon informed me as soon as the waitress had provided us with drinks. The two detectives had opted for sweet tea, whereas the strawberry milkshake had caught my attention. “I’ve managed to keep you out of it, so far, and the coroner is ruling it a suicide.”
“It wasn’t a suicide,” I said, the words feeling thick in the back of my throat.
“Joshua filled me in on your account of what happened, and we agreed that a suicide would be the easiest thing to explain without launching a full investigation,” Leon explained, talking to me like I was a small child.
My eyes narrowed. “It might be the easiest thing to explain, but this is Heaven’s greatest warrior. We are not saying his cause of death was a suicide.”
“Darlin’, we know it wasn’t,” Joshua said, gently. “But if we suggest anything otherwise, we will need to look into why he was there, and who he was with. We’re already struggling with not bringing Cupid into the investigation.”
“Cupid?” I repeated in surprise. “He wasn’t even…” I trailed off. He was there: I was the one who had brought him there too.
“There’s no evidence of anyone else being there,” Leon quickly assured me. “The Crime Scene guys couldn’t even find any trace of you.”
That had me frowning: I had been bleeding everywhere, and Valac had been, well, I’d decapitated him! “Nothing?” I asked, skeptically.
“Not a trace,” Leon confirmed. “You have one excellent cleanup crew.”
I was unable to stop myself from sighing as I absently started stirring the long spoon around in my milkshake. I was sick of having no clue what was going on. “So why does Cupid need bringing into this?”
“Michael’s death has brought questions up about his visa. I can’t even find Cupid on any database,” Leon said.
The milkshake was abandoned as I slumped back into the vinyl faux leather of the seat. “You’re telling me that after centuries on earth, helping mankind, Cupid’s biggest concern is whether he is in this country legally or not.” Apparently, we had bigger things to look at rather than fallen angels.
“We’ll do what we can, but you need to get Cupid to conjure up some ID, or a decent lawyer,” Leon added.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it: I think it was either laugh or cry. This whole conversation was beyond absurd. “And I thought my biggest non-supernatural problem was trying to find some protective clothing I could walk the streets in without alarming everyone,” I said, running a hand over my face.
“What do you need protective clothing for?” Joshua asked, worry lines appearing around his eyes as he frowned at me.
“It’s not like that. As far as I know, I can still survive a bullet wound,” I said, hurrying to assure him. I ignored the fact that Leon’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. “It’s more to protect me from the more minor injuries. Despite my training, my defense is nowhere near as good as it should be, and I occasionally get hit, or thrown to the ground,” I said, suddenly trying to play down how much I sucked at fighting, considering it was my job to protect Joshua. “I need something that can help with a scrape and speed up my recovery time, not hinder it.”
“Have you considered motorbike leathers?” Leon suggested.
“I am not wearing leather pants,” I retorted, dryly.
“I’m just saying, they help protect riders, I can’t see why they wouldn’t help you.” He nodded at something behind me, out of the window. “Head on over to Creole Chrome, the motorbike shop, and speak to Hank.”
I looked up at Joshua who shrugged. “We still have some time before the car will be ready.”
* * *
I thought Creole Chrome would be something wooden, dirty, and full of Harley Davidson memorabilia. I had been watching too much Sons of Anarchy: The motorbike shop was light, definitely clean, and while it had a small section for Harleys’, there were a lot more of the nippy looking Japanese bikes.
Hank was also not what I was expecting – again, I had been watching too much television. “Can I help you?” he asked. He was short, dressed in black trousers and a red and black shirt, and smart black shoes. There wasn’t an inch of the leather or denim I expected anywhere on him.
I wrinkled my nose up as I looked around the shop, but it was Joshua who answered. “She’s after some leathers.”
“I’m not after leathers,” I quickly disagreed. “I am not wearing leather. I just want something that’s going to give me some extra protection without being bulky. Or leather,” I
quickly added.
“A lot of women do,” Hank nodded. “Y’all seem to think that it’s got to be heavy and ugly, but you can get Kevlar jeans these days.”
“You can?” I asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as I felt. Kevlar jeans?
Hank gave me a wry smile, as though he knew exactly what I thought, and led us to the protective clothing. Sure enough, in the women’s section, there were several pairs of jeans. Hank looked me up and down and pulled out a pair of jeans from the rack. They were black, fitted, and surprisingly feminine, with dozens of pockets, and even a section decorated by crisscrossing cord.
I took the hanger Hank was offering and took one look at the label. “I don’t suppose you’ve got the next size up?” I asked. Hank took the jeans back and quickly replaced them. They still looked like they were going to be tight on. Suddenly, shopping with Joshua did not seem appealing. “You know you can wait outside, if you’re bored?” I offered.
“I’m good,” he assured me, much to my disappointment.
With a resigned sigh, I turned back to Hank. “Have you got a fitting room?” When Hank pointed at a room in the corner, I grabbed a handful of jeans from the back of the rack, and darted into the changing room.
In the safety provided from a closed door, I examined the jeans more carefully. The style was something I might have considered – if the weather was colder. However, as extreme temperatures were no longer a problem for me, I plucked out a pair which I thought might fit, two sizes up from normal, and tried them on.
The fabric was much softer than I was expecting and so they were much more forgiving, hanging below my hips. Too much movement in these, and I would be tripping over them. I opted for my normal size and was pleasantly relieved to see that they fitted perfectly. After examining them in the mirror, I turned to one of the other pairs and started reading the label. Apparently there were only three sections with a type of flexible Kevlar – my knees, my hips, and my butt. It made sense, I supposed, seeing as they were where I was likely to fall. The thighs had some form of reinforced nylon in them too.
