by C. L. Coffey
It wasn’t until early evening, and many smoothies later, that while Joshua was having a nap, I came to a conclusion: I would simply try appealing to Ty’s human side. I pulled out my phone and quickly sent him a text. Can we meet 2morrow?
The response was instant: Yes. Where?
Good question. Somewhere public. Somewhere in the Quarter? There was also the fact that it was Thanksgiving and not everywhere would be open. Jackson Square. 10am.
I’ll be there.
That was it. I glanced over at Joshua, wondering how I was going to meet up with Ty without drawing suspicion. Considering I had agreed to go to Maggie’s tomorrow, that would be interesting.
* * *
By the next morning, Joshua was able to speak, albeit hoarsely, without feeling pain – or at least, that’s what he told me. The red of his eyes had almost eased away, although they still looked bloodshot. It was almost possible for him to pass as having a cold. The problem was the handprints had now turned into an ugly purple color. “She will freak,” Joshua told me, his head in the closet.
“Could you just wear a scarf?” I asked.
“Scarves, like hats, are not welcome at the table,” Joshua replied. Finally, he emerged, clutching at something. “Don’t you dare laugh,” he warned me.
“Too busy staring at you to do that.” When Joshua smirked, I fell backwards on the bed – I hadn’t meant to say that one aloud, even if it was true.
“What do you think?” Joshua asked.
It was the fact he sounded nervous that had me propping myself up by my elbows. Joshua wore dress shirts. Whether they were a dark shade of blue or black which he had bought, or something plaid which he rarely wore unless he was going to see Maggie, apart from the odd t-shirt, I’d never seen him in anything else. Now, he was wearing a pale gray turtleneck sweater, with a thicker, black cardigan. It was definitely not his style, but… “You look good,” I assured him. I got up and walked over, frowning. “You’re not going to be able to fold that over though,” I told him, reaching up and pulling at the thin material of the neck of the sweater so it completely covered his throat.
I had dressed in my new uniform which was all part of the plan I’d been working on. Joshua drove us to Maggie’s for half nine. When he pulled up, I didn’t get out of the car. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“I’m not dressed appropriately,” I told him. “I doubt we’re going to be fighting the Fallen here.”
Joshua frowned. “You could have said something earlier.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I thought it would be okay, but these are going to get uncomfortable before I’ve finished my meal.”
“At least the traffic is quiet today,” Joshua muttered, starting the car again.
“Don’t be silly,” I told him brightly. “We’re already here. You go in and get comfortable. You’re already missing the parade. I can be there and back before Maggie has food on the table.”
“I’ve been spotted now,” he relented. I looked to the house and found Maggie waving at us.
“You go in and act as a diversion so I can get away,” I told him. He didn’t look the slightest bit suspicious as he left the car and headed to the house. I quickly swapped seats and drove away before Maggie could come out. I felt guilty – I didn’t like the fact that Joshua didn’t seem to have a clue what I was doing, but I knew if I said I was going to see Ty he would insist on coming. Much as I wanted to trust Ty, there was nothing that would convince me to bring Joshua along and potentially put him in danger.
I arrived at Jackson Square early. There were hardly any people about, and it was peaceful. I took a seat opposite the St. Louis Cathedral – easily one of my favorite buildings in the city – and waited. Jackson Square was a small park in the Quarter, but it was more of a historic garden than a place to play and have fun. It wasn’t a large area but the lawns and gardens were always well maintained. Now, however, I could see whoever looked after the area was struggling with it. The grass was barely green and there were large patches of dirt where the grass had died. Even the flowers in the borders were shriveling and turning brown.
Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long. Ty was early too. “I’m so glad you wanted to meet,” he told me as he got close. “I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”
He looked so troubled at that thought, my initial urge to punch him and tell him to go to hell, vanished. “I didn’t think I wanted to,” I admitted. He sat down on the bench beside me, but maintained a reasonable distance between us. I peered over at him. “Have you been crying?”
Ty looked away, staring at the statue of President Jackson, the centerpiece of the park, before finally nodding. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over, showing me a photograph of him and another guy. It took me a moment to place him: he was the guy who had been in Qube when I had gone to see Ty. “Zeke was murdered yesterday.”
“I guess we’ve both lost someone recently,” I said, and then instantly regretted it. That wasn’t fair. Death wasn’t a competition. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I didn’t know that would happen,” Ty said, looking back to me. “I promise you that. If I’d have known it was a trap, I never would have said anything.”
“Was it a trap?” I asked him.
Ty slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. I heard my dad on the phone – they weren’t expecting anyone there, much less Michael.”
“So why did you tell me?” I asked, carefully.
Ty’s eyes widened in surprise. “Does it matter?”
I nodded, chewing at my lip. “I think it does. I think the answer may be more important than you realize.”
Ty turned his body to face me then. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on the bench. “I get that my dad will never win any humanitarian awards,” he said, ignoring my derisive snort. “But dad has always been about the disorder, rather than the death.”
“Oh, please,” I snorted again.
“No, really! At least while I’ve been alive, anyway. He owns bars and strip clubs across the state – the kind of places that give bars and strip clubs the bad reputation. He encourages the bad behavior. Bee’s is the classiest place he owns, and that’s only because he promised my mother,” Ty said, earnestly. “But even if you ignore Bee’s, the rest of the bars – dad likes to see people consume way more than they should. That leads to all kind of sin, debauchery, and crime, but it keeps people alive. People are no good dead.”
“So why did you tell me?” I asked again.
“Like I said, dad is never going to win any humanitarian awards, but the past year, he has gotten way worse. He came back from his annual trip to Vegas last Thanksgiving and he was on a mission. The other guys-”
“They would be the other Princes?” I asked, cutting him off. Ty nodded. “Just so we’re clear, they would be…?”
Ty squirmed. “If I tell you this, are you going to believe me when I say I want to help?”
“It depends on what you tell me,” I said, firmly.
“Fine,” Ty sighed, although he remained looking uncomfortable. “Dad, Asmodeus, Abaddon, Mammon, and Satan.”
“I thought there was another. Belphegor?”
“There were seven once, until Leviathan was murdered,” Ty corrected me. I narrowed my eyes: Leviathan had been killed by Paddy about sixteen hundred years ago after Levi had gone on a killing spree in Ireland. I wasn’t entirely certain that ‘murdered’ was the term I would use. “Belphegor disappeared – I heard dad say he thought he was dead too. I don’t know. I never met him.”
“So your dad and four Princes of Darkness decided to hold an annual retreat in Las Vegas?” I asked, dubiously.
“It was Mammon’s turn to host.”
I stared in disbelief as I processed what I was being told. “You’re telling me there’s a third Prince of Darkness in America?” Ty slowly nodded. “And your dad returned from this a different person?”
“I d
on’t know what happened there, but not long after he came back, he found Lilah and the next thing I knew, the weather was stuck on hot.”
“That’s Beelzebub’s fault?” I asked, surprised I had been right that the Fallen were behind the unusually warm weather.
Ty winced. “Can you please not call him that?”
I snorted, not caring how unattractive it was. “It’s his name!”
“Please?” Ty begged.
“Fine!” I exclaimed, although I really didn’t know why I was agreeing. “Terrence. Terrence is behind the sucky weather? Is he the one who created Tabitha?”
“It’s one of his gifts,” Ty agreed. He was looking more and more miserable the longer this conversation went on. “But he can’t create weather – he can’t stand in the street and decided to bring a snow storm. He can just manipulate what’s there. Tabitha he made stronger, and this heat, he’s dragging it out.”
“Why?” I asked. “What benefit does it have?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I do know that hot weather tends to shorten people’s tempers and the crime rate has gone up the last couple of months. Dad tracks that like most people track their football team’s stats. The murder rate has doubled.”
Something clicked. “Your friend who was murdered? That’s why you’re telling me all this?”
Ty looked confused, and then the realization set in. “No. Zeke was killed this morning. This thing with dad had been going on longer. Besides, I’m certain dad had nothing to do with Zeke’s murder.”
“You don’t think the weather would have made someone act crazy and kill him?” I asked.
“Zeke was a Nephilim, like me,” Ty replied.
“Maybe he was killed because he was Nephilim,” I muttered.
“That’s what I’m scared of,” Ty said, quietly. “Look, the reason I’m telling you this has nothing to do with Zeke. That’s something else altogether.”
“You still haven’t explained why you’re telling me all this,” I pointed out. “Why did you tell me about Asmodeus and the Port?”
Ty opened his mouth, ready to say something, but instead closed it, shaking his head instead. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
I stared at him, the doubts I had about him flaring to life again. Half human, half Fallen… just because you were human didn’t mean you were automatically a good person. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll be straight with you, even if I’m not sure you’re being straight with me. I think there is something going on at the Port, and I think Asmodeus is behind it and your dad is, at least, in on it. I think that you didn’t tell me about it with the intention of anyone getting hurt, because Asmodeus was concerned enough to go there after. I also think you know more than you’re telling me about it too.” I leaned in. “How am I doing?”
“I really didn’t think anyone would get hurt,” Ty said, although he refused to look at me. “And I really don’t know much more than what you do.”
“But you do know something else?” I pried.
“Since Michael died, my dad and Asmodeus won’t discuss business in the house anymore. I don’t think they trust me either. The only other thing I know is that whatever’s there,” he finally met my eyes, “It’s dangerous, and a lot of people are going to get hurt.”
“More than the drinking population of Louisiana?” I scoffed.
“I think this one could involve kids,” Ty said.
“What the hell is your dad into?” I asked in disgust, all kinds of thoughts going through my mind.
Ty was back to staring at Jackson’s statue. “Dad’s never done anything involving children before. Evil as he is, he has always done what he can to make sure no minors get into his bars.”
“Let’s give him a round of applause for being such a morally upstanding citizen,” I sneered, clapping as I spoke. “And here’s me wondering why he never got that humanitarian award.”
“You need to stop him,” Ty said. “Asmodeus, I mean. I think if he’s gone, dad will be fine.”
“You and I have two very different definitions of ‘fine’,” I scoffed, getting to my feet.
Ty jumped to his. “Does this mean you’ll help?”
“I don’t know about helping,” I said. “But I will do everything I can to stop children being hurt. I can’t promise what that means for Terrance.”
Ty nodded glumly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I muttered under my breath as I walked away. If Beelzebub was up to something nasty involving children, he deserved everything he got. I was still thinking about what that was as I hurried to the convent. As I already had parking and didn’t want to waste any more time trying to navigate the one way streets to get closer to the convent, I hurried on foot. If I was gone for much longer, I wouldn’t have put it past Joshua to send out a search party.
I was just one corner away from the Old Ursuline Convent when a hessian bag was dropped over my head. Again. “Oh, hell no!” I cried as I felt my feet find themselves on different flooring. I had had enough of Garret. As soon as the bag was removed from my face and I saw his smug face in front of me, I swung and punched.
“Not likely, princess,” he scoffed, deflecting the blow.
“Stop kidnapping me!” I yelled at him, swinging again.
This time, he caught my fist, and using my momentum against me, flung me over his shoulder. “Not going to work,” he said, still smug as he glared down at me.
“Will you two quit fighting?” I heard Veronica say.
I fought to get the breath he’d knocked out of me, back in my lungs. “Jerk,” I muttered, not bothering to hide my words as I rolled onto my knees. The next thing I knew, I was crumpled in a heap against one of the room’s support pillars, pain exploding through me. He’d kicked me hard enough in the ribs that I had gone flying halfway across the room. It didn’t take a doctor to tell me the agony I was experiencing was more than likely caused by a broken rib and a ruptured lung.
It was only through Michael’s words suddenly springing to my mind – ‘your vessel does not need to breathe in the same way your body did’ – that I managed to get to my feet. It hurt like hell, but realizing I no longer needed air meant I was mobile. My sword was out and I was charging back across the room as Garret could only stare in a weird combination of horror and surprise.
My sword never hit him. I swung – I was out for blood at that point – but this blow was deflected by another sword. Veronica’s sword. “No!” she cried, spinning and whacking her sword, the wide side of the blade, down on my wrist, hard enough that I dropped my weapon. “That is enough!” she bellowed.
I crumpled to the floor, unsure as to whether I should be nursing my wrist or side as both seemed to be hurting equally. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, sucking in gasps of air that were so painful, it had tears appearing in my eyes.
“I will have no more of this,” Veronica said. I was unsure if she was addressing me or Garret.
“Then leave me the hell alone,” I snapped. “Stop kidnapping me, and just leave me alone.”
Veronica’s expression softened. “We can’t leave you alone, but we will stop kidnapping you, and we will stop attacking you,” she said, apparently using the royal ‘we’ as she sent death glares rivaling my own to Garret. “Won’t we?”
Garret, the smug rat, shrugged. “Whatever.”
Veronica whirled around and smacked him upside the head, not holding back on her strength. “Garret, enough is enough. It’s not Angel who needs to take a vow, it’s you. Now take one, or I’ll swear to God and you’ll be done.”
They engaged in a glaring competition, until finally, like the petulant teenager he invoked, he stamped his foot and folded his arms, glaring at me. “Fine. I swear to God I will not kidnap you anymore.”
“And,” Veronica prompted, although it came out as a growl.
“And I swear to God that I will not cause any further injury to you,” he spat, like the words were leaving a bad taste
in his mouth.
“Now get out,” Veronica commanded.
With one last glare which had me thinking he would have broken his vow had it actually caused the damage he seemed to want it to, Garret disappeared, leaving us alone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Branded
With a pained gasp, I fell back so I was sitting more comfortably on the floor. Or at least as comfortably as I could be considering I could barely breathe and I was also registering the fact my back really hurt. Being an angel sucked. Okay, being thrown around and injured as much as I had been sucked. Being an angel meant I was lucky that I could survive this without needing a hospital visit, but yeah, it still hurt.
“Here,” Veronica said, swooping down to help me up.
I jerked back. “Just leave me alone,” my words sounding more forceful than they probably should have done. I really was in pain.
Veronica took a couple of steps back. “I’m really sorry, Angel.”
“It’s not really you who should be apologizing,” I pointed out. “What is his problem?”
Veronica rubbed at her arms as she bit her lip. “He, uh… he’s a jerk.”
“So is Zachary, but he’s never given me internal bleeding,” I snarked. “So what the hell gives with him?”
“He has a couple of centuries of pent up aggression,” she said, waving her arms about. “He’s been telling Michael that Lucifer wasn’t dead since, well, long before people thought the world was flat and was at the center of the universe.”
“So why does he think that he can just throw me around? Literally,” I added.
“I think he’s upset that you changed Michael’s mind in mere weeks of being here.”
