by C. L. Coffey
Henry rubbed at his jaw before folding his arms. “I don’t take lives: I’m an angel. I take departed souls onto their next location. You are not dead, although I think you should probably be admitted into a hospital.”
“What?” I demanded as Joshua’s eyes widened in alarm.
Henry quickly held his hands up. “I can already see from here you’ve experienced some trauma to your throat, and you might be okay now, but the fact that you’re having difficulty speaking tells me that there is some swelling in there. You need scans, and proper medical supervision for at least twenty-four hours.”
Joshua, stubbornly, shook his head. “He doesn’t want to go to hospital,” I explained.
“Well, he’s an idiot,” said Henry, earning himself a glare.
Joshua reached over and grabbed a pad from Henry’s desk, before pulling a pen out of his pocket. This amount of injury is going to result in questions I cannot answer.
Henry looked over at me. “What caused this trauma?” he asked, slowly.
I opened my mouth to answer, and then sighed. “I can’t tell you, I made a vow,” I told him. “But let’s just say it was something angelic.”
Henry’s expression turned to one of disapproval. “Humans are too fragile to be fighting the Fallen,” he said. “That’s why they’re supposed to have guardian angels to do that for them.”
“I know,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
“Not her fault,” Joshua hissed at Henry, before exploding into another coughing fit.
“Okay, you really need to stop talking,” Henry instructed him. “Before you make your throat swell up and stop you from breathing. Then I will be fulfilling my duties as an Angel of Death.” When Joshua clamped his mouth closed, Henry shrugged and moved to a cabinet pulling something out from it. “This is not a hospital, but I can do an initial assessment.” The something was a lollipop stick – the tongue depressor things – or whatever the medical profession called them. He took it out of its protective wrapping, and, producing a small torch, looked at Joshua. “Open wide, and don’t say ‘ah’,” he said.
Joshua did as he said. After a few minutes of him looking down his throat, I grew impatient. “Well?”
“There’s enough damage there that I really think Joshua should be admitted into hospital,” Henry sighed, throwing the lollipop stick in the trash. When he saw the glower Joshua was giving him, he shrugged. “If you don’t want to go to hospital, there’s not much I can do to force you. I will, however, insist, that you do not spend the night alone.” He looked at me. “You don’t need sleep: make sure you check him every three hours. Hopefully, I’m being overcautious, but if anything changes, if he has any trouble breathing, you get him to an ER. You understand?”
“Hell, yes,” I agreed.
“The petechiae will likely take a few days, at least, to disappear,” Henry continued. “And the marks on your neck will almost certainly turn into bruising.” He folded his arms and turned back to me. “I mean it about keeping an eye on him. The longer it goes, the more likely he will be fine, but the swelling can sometimes take up to thirty-six hours to come out.”
Well that settled it – if I couldn’t get Joshua into a hospital, I was gathering some things and moving in with him for a few days. “Thank you,” I told him.
Henry moved behind and sat down, wearily. “I thought you were coming to ask me about the latest victim.”
I looked at Joshua who shrugged. “Latest victim?” I repeated. “Michael?”
“No,” said Henry, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “But as you bring it up, how could you not tell me about Michael?” he demanded.
“I didn’t get chance,” I said. Why was it all angels suddenly looked so terrifying when they got angry? Henry’s eyes had darkened, and I could see his muscles tense, even below the lab coat he was wearing. “He was killed, and then Grace appeared, and then I was at the… at the Port,” I told him. Then something else dawned on me and Joshua’s injury was forgotten about. I marched up to the desk and leaned over. “If you want to start throwing accusations, how the hell could you,” I jabbed his chest with my finger, “How could you not tell me that the damn police lieutenant was one of the Fallen?” I demanded.
“Police lieutenant…” Henry repeated slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“Asmodeus?” I prompted.
“Asmodeus is the police lieutenant?” Henry asked in disbelief.
“Yes!” I cried. “Are you really trying to tell me that you didn’t know?”
Henry slowly shook his head. “I’m normally at the murder scene when a lot of the work has already been done – I rarely see him there.”
My hands found their way to my hips as I glared at him. “He hasn’t even bothered to change his name,” I pointed out, enunciating each word. “I thought you guys could see auras better than we could.”
“I think it’s probably a good time for you both to leave,” Henry said, coolly, although I could see his fists were clenching tightly enough to the plastic arms of his chair that they were warping under his grip.
There was a tug at my arm, and I looked down to find Joshua nodding his head at the door. A sense of déjà vu flashed through me. Why the hell was I getting so angry all the time? I was just repeating what I had done at Mama Laveau’s and look where that had left us. “I’m sorry, Henry,” I said as the anger left me in a rush. “I’m just worried.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Henry stood. “Cold would be better than hot, and I suggest you not eat anything solid for a couple of days,” he said, addressing Joshua.
* * *
Joshua didn’t say anything until we got back to his. Or at least, he didn’t find a pad and start writing questions until I had called in at the convent, told Cupid I needed to spend some time with Joshua (he was busy with Paddy on a computer so wasn’t really bothered), grabbed a few sets of clothing, and picked up a couple of milkshakes for us.
You’re angry.
It wasn’t a question.
I had taken a seat at Joshua’s small breakfast counter while he had hunted out a notebook and pen from his bedroom. When he returned to the open-plan living room, he’d taken a seat on the couch, stretching out, but still keeping me in his line of sight. He didn’t lower the notebook until I shrugged, acknowledging I’d read it. “I don’t know why,” I responded.
I do – you’ve lost someone. You don’t get over that overnight.
Joshua looked so calm when he held that up, that the guilt suddenly started churning in my stomach. I pushed my milkshake to one side. “I know.”
It’s OK to be angry and it’s OK to miss him.
“He kissed me,” I blurted out.
I thought Michael had a good poker face. He had nothing on Joshua whose face was blank as he quickly wrote another note. You cared for him.
“Yes,” I admitted, aloud. “But not in the same way he felt about me.” Oh hell, I didn’t want to do this. I should have just kept my mouth closed and Joshua would have never known. But it was out there now, and I couldn’t take it back. Time to woman up. I got up and made my way to the couch. Joshua bent his knees, allowing me space to sit – that was a good sign, I guess. “He kissed me twice,” I said, making myself look at Joshua rather than my hands. Not that I could read his expression. “The first time was before we became a… whatever we are. Then he apologized, said it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. The other time was the day he was killed, he kissed me again. I don’t think he really liked me like that – I was just the first person, human or otherwise, that he could be with – and I told him that.”
That’s what makes you angry?
I slowly shook my head. “What makes me angry is all the half-truths, all the rules which aren’t rules. Maybe Michael would be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t. If Mama Laveau had said something, maybe he would still be here.” I turned myself fully sideways and rested the side of my face on the back of the couch. “I’m angry because I have to waste my
time trying to get the truth out about angels instead of hunting down the Fallen. I’m angry because Michael thought leaving me in charge of his House was a great idea when I never even managed to balance my own checkbook. And most of all, I’m angry at myself for being angry at someone who is dead.” Dave, Joshua’s enormous fluff ball of a cat, decided that was the best moment to jump up and curl up on my lap. It took him a few circles to settle himself, and then he rested his head against my knee and stared up at me. “But the only thing being angry is doing, is putting you at risk,” I muttered, my attention on petting Dave.
Joshua didn’t say anything, not that I expected him to, but instead started scribbling away on his notepad. Just as Dave had fallen asleep, Joshua handed the pad over.
I’m glad you told me about Michael, although I’m mad that, if there is an afterlife, I can’t kick his ass for kissing my girlfriend, because he didn’t know. Don’t be angry about Mama Laveau. I have no idea how long she’s been in that body, but if it’s as long as the stories have been around, that woman is more than a few crawfish short of a boil. As for that convent, you’re doing the best you can. I know it and I bet know Cupid knows it too.
Mama Laveau said that the rules existed to cover the angels in the gray area, and despite her craziness, I think she was on to something with this one. You can’t tell people what you are – you tell everyone and they’re going to start worshiping you. You only need to look at the people outside the churches to see that would happen. A few more of them and it’s going to take a strong angel not to start thinking they’re better than they are. Where you live? Look how that has turned out for you and your aunt already.
Relationships, well, that might be a hard one as I consider you to be my girlfriend and all, although I think it’s probably a good idea to keep this one to ourselves for a little longer – at least where Cupid and co are concerned. That no relationships rule is probably because you’re going to get people who start worshiping angels, although I don’t think that’s going to be a problem with us, because have you seen me?? Silly question. I know you have, and I know you like what you see. I also know you keep putting me above you, and I know if I tried to treat you like the goddess I think you are, you’ll tell me to quit flirting in that cute accent of yours and hit me.
So while you’re not allowed to hit me because I’m all injured, I’m going to tell you that I think you’re beautiful and strong and have a really great ass, and although you’re stubborn as hell and I’m slightly COMPLETELY jealous that you can lift more than I can, and it REALLY bugs me that you think you don’t need protecting…
I set the notebook down, certain I was grinning like an idiot and watched as Joshua got onto his knees and leaned forward. “I love you,” he whispered, hoarsely, his eyes fixed firmly on mine.
Dave shot off my lap as I gaped at Joshua. “What?” I asked, then shook my head. “Don’t speak.” I frowned, now wondering if I had misheard.
Joshua smirked and turned the page on the note book. Scrawled on the page were the words, I LOVE YOU!
Joshua started to take the notebook from me, his expression smug, but I clung to it firmly. “Oh hell no! I’m keeping this,” I told him. He rolled his eyes, plucked the notebook from me anyway, threw it on the coffee table, and pulled me to him. I didn’t bother resisting as the heat from his touch radiated through me.
* * *
I was definitely still grinning like an idiot the following morning. I’d dutifully woken Joshua up every three hours and checked his throat – by making him tilt his head back so I could look down it! Okay, there may have been some more make-out sessions before he went back to sleep….
I hadn’t had much sleep. Henry’s warning about making sure he was breathing had me too paranoid to sleep. I’d dozed here and there, but it was a good job I could actually go a few days without sleep. In the early hours, I had gone to the grocery store a few blocks over and picked up some fresh fruit and vanilla ice cream. I was busy trying to peel a mango when Joshua walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. “You’re up early,” he whispered.
I gave him a disapproving look as I dropped the last of the mango into a blender. “You are not allowed to do that, remember?” I reminded him, before flicking the switch. He might be able to whisper at me, but there were two very obvious handprints on his neck.
Joshua watched patiently as I made him a smoothie and poured it into a glass. He took a sip. “My throat feels a little better,” he whispered. “And I’m not used to writing such long love letters to girls.”
“I should hope not,” I grinned. The love letter in question had been removed from the notebook, folded, and placed carefully into one of the many zipped pockets my jeans had.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk?” he smirked. I pulled my phone out and handed it over. “Spoilsport.” Regardless, he started typing and handed the phone back. Not going 2 lie, it still hurts. I think it’s going to be smoothies 4 2day at least, but it is starting 2 feel better. I’ve already sent a text 2 Leon 2 say I won’t be in today, don’t worry. I’ve got thanksgiving and Fri off anyway.
“Thanksgiving?” I questioned. Was it really thanksgiving already? Joshua nodded. “Oh.”
“Maggie is expecting us,” Joshua whispered.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You really don’t want to use that phone, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine, then I guess I’ll have to do most of the talking,” I shrugged. That earned me a sly smile. “What?” I demanded.
“Well, darlin’, that means you’re going to have to talk and not keep it all in that head of yours,” he pointed out.
“I…” I didn’t bother finishing my objection as he continued to smirk at me. “Whatever. You keep drinking that smoothie.” I poured my own smoothie. “Okay,” I said, leaning against the counter. “I have plans. I think that there is something going on at the Port of New Orleans, and I think Asmodeus is behind it.”
“Really?” Joshua asked, doubtful.
“About ninety percent certain,” I shrugged. “Valac, the Fallen who killed Michael, seemed surprised to see us there. I thought it was that he was surprised it was Michael, but the more I think about it, the more my gut tells me that he was surprised either of us were there.”
Joshua’s forehead wrinkled as he cocked his head at me. “You keep replaying what happened,” he whispered. “Is that why you’re up so early?”
I scratched at the back of my neck and shook my head. “Actually, I was worried you’d stop breathing as I slept,” I admitted. As Joshua frowned, I shrugged. “You asked. Sometime around four I got to thinking that you would need to call in sick again, which had me thinking about Asmodeus and what he would say – and here we are. Anyway, I’m about ninety percent certain that he’s doing something dodgy there.”
That earned me an amused smile. “Dodgy?”
“That didn’t warrant you using your voice,” I scolded him. “If you’re going to speak, at least save it for the important stuff. And yes, dodgy. Henry said that Asmodeus doesn’t usually turn up to crime scenes, and at that point, I bet the only person who had recognized Michael was Henry: there’s no way that Asmodeus would have been there for what was being reported in the news as a suicide. Even if it was a murder victim, how many of your crime scenes has he turned up to in the past?”
“Not even the ones Beelzebub and Lilah were behind,” Joshua conceded. “But it could be a coincidence. He could have known it was Michael.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think if there was another of the Fallen there besides Valac, I wouldn’t be here now. I barely survived – someone else could have easily swooped in and finished me off. Plus, remember Asmodeus’ reaction? He was far too surprised when he found out it was Michael. No,” I shook my head again. “I think he was there because he wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“So why only ninety percent?” Joshua asked, before taking a long sip of his smoothie.
<
br /> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Who to Trust?
“Ty,” I said, simply.
“Elaborate,” Joshua requested, waving his arm.
“His dad is Beelzebub, and I partly feel that I shouldn’t trust him by default,” I explained. “All the angels agree that Nephilim are evil.”
Joshua gave me a sympathetic smile “But you don’t?”
“I get that they’re half fallen angel, but they’re also half human. Ty’s the reason I was at the Port, but I really don’t know if it’s because he’s been scheming with his dad, or because he genuinely wanted to make it up to me for having my name all over the papers,” I frowned.
“We need to talk to him,” Joshua suggested.
I shot him a look. “We aren’t doing any talking. If anyone is doing the talking, I am because a) you need to not be talking right now, and b) his dad is a freaking Prince of Darkness. If I talk to Ty, you’re not going to be anywhere near.”
“I might have a sore throat, but I also have a gun,” Joshua retorted. “And he might be Nephilim, but as you pointed out, that also makes him half human.” And then he started coughing.
I poured the rest of the smoothie from the blender into his glass and pushed it towards him. “That right there is why you shouldn’t be seeing Ty with me,” I said, dryly. “At this rate, you won’t make it to the car, never mind hold a conversation.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going by yourself,” he wheezed.
“Joshua, please just rest your throat,” I begged. Although giving me an unimpressed look, he grew quiet, taking long sips of his drink. “Look, I promise I won’t go without being prepared, and I certainly won’t see him today. How about we just relax today? You must have a billion books you want to read?” I asked, gesturing to the wall of bookshelves he had in his living room. At the look he gave me, I shrugged. “I’m not reading a book. I’m going to be borrowing your iPad and researching.”
I cleaned up the mess I’d created in the kitchen, though not before making another batch of mango smoothie, and I settled onto the couch, joining Joshua. He’d done as I had suggested, pulling a book off the shelf, using my lap as a footrest. I had borrowed his iPad and spent the day reading up on nephilim. Or I tried. What was out there was very much a repeat of the same thing, and nothing really gave me any clue as to how to approach Ty.
