by C. L. Coffey
With considerable effort, I managed to stand, and glared at her. “Again I ask, what makes him think it’s okay to attack me?”
“Well you did attack him first,” Veronica said, once again awkwardly rubbing at her arms. I narrowed my eyes and glowered at her. She was hiding something, and damnit, I was going to find out what it was. I waited, impatiently, until finally, she sighed. “He blames you,” she admitted.
“For what?” No sooner had the words left my mouth, I knew: Michael.
“He thought that Michael would be the only one who would be able to stop Lucifer again,” she said quickly, as though trying to justify her confession.
“He wasn’t the only one,” I muttered to myself.
“I don’t think Michael’s the only one who can stop him,” Veronica said.
I looked up and found her staring at me, but her eyes were full of determination instead of remorse. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not going to tell me anymore?”
“I made a vow,” she shrugged.
“Oh, for the love of God, I’m so done with this crap,” I muttered, heading to the door – there was a lift, but there was nothing that would make me risk using it in this building. I wondered why Veronica didn’t try to stop me until I opened the door to the stairwell… and discovered there was at least one flight of stairs missing. “Are you kidding me?” I cried (then winced at the effort) as I whirled around to face Veronica.
“We needed to make sure no-one would come up and find us. We can all just-” She disappeared, and then reappeared a few feet closer to me. “You know?”
“You know,” I mimicked, with a similar shrug of my shoulders, only it was more of a grunt of pain than a wince, which followed. “The thing I can’t do because I’m only an angel.” Seeing as doing anything was hurting me, I shuffled over to a chair and eased myself down into it. “So not only are you kidnapping me, you’re holding me against my will.”
“No!” she objected. “I can take you to the convent any time you want.”
I gave her a pointed look.
“I will!” she said, folding her arms and pouting at me. “I just need you to listen first.”
Partly because I was tired of this nonsense, partly because it hurt too much to do anything else, I leaned back in the chair. “What?”
“Have you had any luck with Lucifer?” she asked.
“Are you serious?” I asked her. When she nodded, I had to count to ten before speaking, and even then, the words were strained as I spoke them. “Veronica, in the ten days since we last had this conversation, no I have not ‘had any luck’ with Lucifer. I have barely thought about him as I have been trying to deal with Michael’s death; with suddenly being put in charge of a House I have no idea how to run; with trying to deal with Cupid who is as pissed off at the situation as I am; with many other things more important than Lucifer.”
“Lucifer is dangerous,” Veronica said, solemnly, clearly not picking up on the fact I was doing my best to control the anger which had certainly been getting the better of me recently.
“Lucifer is not in New Orleans,” I calmly pointed out. “And if he is, he is keeping his head down. Until he pops up, I have more pressing issues caused by the likes of Asmodeus. Unless you have anything further you would care to share about Lucifer, then I suggest you change the subject.”
“I can’t share with you that information until you make a vow,” she cried in exasperation.
She wasn’t the only one getting frustrated. “It’s not happening, Veronica,” I told her. “I’m done with all the secrets and half-truths. If there’s something that I can’t share with someone, then I need to be the one to make that decision. If you and the cherubim don’t like that, then that’s fine. I don’t care. More importantly, I’m done having this conversation. If you want to be useful, you can tell me about what kind of trap can keep an angel prisoner.”
She blinked at me a few times then. “Traps? You’re not trapped.”
I let out a long breath. “So you say, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Michael died because he was stuck in a trap. I want to know what kind of trap that was, and more importantly, how do you I get someone out of that trap?”
Veronica looked puzzled as she shook her head. “There’s no such thing. Angels can’t be trapped.”
“Michael was,” I corrected her. “I don’t think he would have stayed in the path of an oncoming train unless he was unable to move from in front of it.”
“No, really, they don’t exist. Angels can’t be trapped.”
With a sigh, I lowered my gaze to the floor. “Take me home, Veronica,” I requested quietly. “Joshua will be wondering where I am.” Veronica didn’t say another word. Instead, she walked over and clamped her hand on my shoulder. The next thing I knew, I was alone, sitting on a bench in the convent gardens.
Knowing that Joshua really would be concerned about me, I headed inside. I didn’t know where anyone was, and at that point I didn’t care. I went straight to my room and gingerly stripped of my clothes so I could examine myself in the bathroom mirror. While there wasn’t anything visible on my face, somehow, my back, side, front and one of my legs had turned into one ugly purpling bruise. At least it was a sign of healing. I had a few scrapes on my arms, but they were already looking in a much better state.
Wearily, I returned to the bedroom and pulled out the only summer dress I had. There was nothing I could do about the bruise poking out below the knee-length skirt, but I pulled a sweater on to cover the marks on my arms. Finally, I pulled the dagger and phone from my trousers. The dagger I hid under the skirt, choosing to strap it to my unbruised thigh. The phone, after quickly responding to Joshua’s texts, I tucked into my bra. Then, with still no one around, I left the convent and hurried back to the car.
Despite taking less time to get to Maggie’s then I had predicted in the text, Joshua was waiting outside for me. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, running over to help me out of the car. The pain had certainly subsided, but I was still feeling stiff and sore.
“Do we have time, or is Maggie going to wonder what we’re doing out here?” I asked him.
“I don’t really give a crap,” he said as he put his hands on my waist.
It wasn’t a forceful action by any means, but I was apparently much more tender than I first thought and I recoiled from his touch. “Sorry,” I winced.
“Angel, what the hell?” he demanded, his voice growing hoarser. We certainly made an interesting pair. He finally caught sight of the bruise that was poking out from under the skirt and started to lift the fabric. “Angel, what the hell?” he repeated, only this time, it came out much squeakier.
“Not here,” I hissed, my hand clamping around his to stop the skirt going any higher. “Your neighbors!”
Joshua’s lips disappeared into a thin line, but he let go. Instead, his hand wrapped around mine and he led me into the house. No sooner had the door closed, then a short, gray-haired woman materialized from the kitchen. Her eyes twinkled at me and she hurried over, placing herself between Joshua and me so she could envelop me in a hug. Thankfully, I was a whole head taller than her so she didn’t see my gasp. Joshua did and his eyes narrowed.
“Angel dear, you look lovely,” Maggie told me, stepping back to look me up and down. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“Thank you for having me,” I responded, politely. “I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble. Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, aware that it earned me a glare from Joshua.
“Not at all,” Maggie assured me. “I did most of the preparation yesterday. Just the pecan pie to finish while the turkey is roasting. Besides, it’s yours and Joshua’s job to do the dishes afterwards,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you and Joshua go finish watching the end of the parade? Dinner will be another forty minutes.”
“Actually, I’m going to show Angel my room,” Joshua said.
Maggie turned back to him and tilte
d her head. I watched as a mischievous smile appeared on her face. “Show her your bedroom? Is that what you young folks call it these days?”
Appropriate timing or not, I couldn’t help but be amused at how quickly Joshua’s face went red (even if mine was doing the same thing). “That’s not… Maggie, we’re not…” he said, all flustered as he tried to find the words.
“Of course not, dear,” she said. “You two go have fun in the bedroom. I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll even turn the radio up.” With another wink, she sauntered back into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Moments later, we could hear Elvis filtering through into the hallway.
“Wow,” I laughed.
“I am never going to hear the end of that,” Joshua muttered, glancing back at the door behind him with a sigh. When he looked back at me, his face took on a more serious expression. Clearly on a mission, he took my hand once more and led me further into the house.
Maggie lived in a large single-story, ranch-style home in Jefferson. Maggie was Joshua’s godmother, and the woman who had taken him in after his mother had left and his father had died. They weren’t related, but I knew that Joshua adored her, even if she was anything but subtle when it came to her opinions on his life.
I’d been to Maggie’s only a handful of times yet I had never seen Joshua’s bedroom. He’d only spent some of his high school years living here, but I really was curious about it. I stepped in and looked around. It was a decent size, especially as there was only a single bed in the corner, topped with a – I grinned – plaid comforter. Short of a couple of tokens of his support for the Saints, and two car posters on the wall, it was surprisingly sparse.
“Is the reason you look like a walking bruise the same as why you were at the Plaza Tower?” Joshua demanded, as he pushed the door closed.
I whirled around and found him staring at me, his arms folded across his chest, like he was doing everything he could not to touch me. “The Plaza Tower?” I asked.
“You were gone a long time and not responding to my calls,” he said. “I got worried and used my Find My Angel app.”
There was no such thing as a Find My Angel app. He had simply tracked my phone. I know I should have felt weird about that, but I didn’t. I mean, this was only the second time he’d used it, and I had been gone a while. Besides, I had him permanently LoJacked with my own angelic tracking system, so it was only fair. Currently, I was staring at him in awe. I would never have thought to do that and now I knew where the cherubim were hiding. Knowing that would annoy Garret made me exceptionally happy. I bounded over to Joshua and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You are a genius,” I told him.
“No, I’m a concerned boyfriend,” he corrected me, worry lines showing around his eyes. “Angel, why are you injured?”
I took a step back. “I had a run in with the cherubim.”
Joshua’s concern melted into confusion. “The cherubim? As in Veronica? The angels who left the convent? They did this?”
As I nodded, I could see Joshua’s hands curling into fists. “Not Veronica. It was Garret. He’s an asshat.”
I could see the tension in his jaw. “Show me,” Joshua requested, quietly. It took me a second to process what he was asking of me before I lifted the skirt. Only an hour had passed since I had sustained the injuries, but the bruises were already looking better than Joshua’s. “All of it,” Joshua added.
I stared at him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. All of it involved taking the dress off. “It’s really not that bad,” I tried to assure him. “It’s already healing.”
“Please,” he said, his voice low and raspy.
He had that look in his eyes which said he wasn’t going to drop it, which meant he probably didn’t have a clue how bad, and how much of me, it covered. “Fine.” I stepped back towards the bed pulling the sweater of and dropping it on the comforter. With one swift movement, the dress followed. I turned back to Joshua as soon as I heard his sharp intake of breath.
“He’s dead,” Joshua growled, looking like he was ready to storm out of there and murder the cherub.
“You’re slightly more breakable than I am,” I pointed out. “If he touches me again, he’ll fall anyway.”
“That is not doing anything to convince me not to break his neck,” Joshua informed me. He took two strides to me, his face like thunder as he examined the injuries.
I looked down myself. It really was looking better already, even if the inside wasn’t. That wasn’t fair – I guess the inside was healing just as fast, but there were more extensive injuries to heal. The bruises would probably be gone before it stopped hurting to breathe.
Hesitantly, Joshua’s hands reached for me, tracing the mottled blues and greens around my side. I flinched. Not because it hurt – he was barely touching me – but because it tickled. Joshua’s hand shot back. “Sorry!”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I quickly told him. The look he gave me told me he didn’t believe that for the second. “Okay, it hurts like hell,” I admitted. “But you touching me: that doesn’t hurt.” I looked back down. In the dull light of the bedroom, my skin was more blue than anything and a strange image appeared in my mind. “You know, a few more square feet of this and I’d look like Mystique.” When that didn’t get the response I was hoping for, I figured he maybe wasn’t up on his movies. “The blue woman in X-Men who can make herself look like anyone else when she isn’t wandering around naked?”
“No more bruises,” Joshua said. Just like that, his bedroom eyes made an appearance. If I wasn’t completely distracted by the fact that I was standing in front of him in only my underwear and a dagger, and this was the first time he’d ever seen me with so little clothing on, then I might have found it amusing. Instead, my throat had suddenly gone bone dry, and I was regretting not picking a sexier set of underwear – or at least one that matched.
Well hell, I was only young once. Mentally, at least. I don’t know if it was conscious or instinctive, but I swallowed my nerves and grabbed him by his cardigan, and tugged him towards me. He didn’t resist in the slightest. He followed me as I led him backwards, until my legs banged into the side of his bed. His hands shot around my waist to steady me causing me to gasp at the touch of his cold fingers on my surprisingly hot skin.
He swore and let go of me. “Sorry!” he hissed.
“I’m not,” I assured him, reaching for his hands and putting them back on me.
That was all it took. Joshua’s hands skimmed over me, up my body and under my arms to where there was the least amount of bruising, so he could lift me back onto the bed. Then his lips sought mine and the hard lines of his body were pressed down over my softer curves.
I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. I just felt good, heat radiating through me. Joshua turned his attention to my collarbone and I took the opportunity to get his cardigan off him. The turtleneck soon followed, and then Joshua’s mouth was back on mine.
There was a loud knock at the door and we leaped apart from each other like a current had passed through us. “Just a ten-minute warning,” Maggie called through the door. I swear I could hear amusement in her voice.
We lay on the bed, frozen until the door from the kitchen had closed and Elvis’ voice had become muffled once more. How had we missed that? With an exhalation of breath, Joshua collapsed onto his back and groaned. “We still have ten minutes,” I suggested, wanting the heat of him back.
Joshua was back over me, but this time his kisses were long and slow, and his hands were being annoyingly well behaved. He pulled away and stared down at me, his eyes dark. “You deserve much better than ten minutes,” he told me, firmly.
“Oh I really don’t,” I objected, as my arms reached up, trying to pull him back to me.
His lips quirked up into a smile before he used them to kiss the tip of my nose. Then, with regret in his eyes, he pulled out of my grasp and sat up next to me. “Never have I wanted to pass on a cooked meal more,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.<
br />
“I would have no objections,” I told him. When he looked at me, torn, I sighed. “No, we’re not going to do that to Maggie, much as I want to.” Reluctantly, I got up and reached for my dress, pulling it on.
“You might need this too,” Joshua said, sheepishly, as he handed me my sweater.
Slowly, I took it from him. “Why…?” My free hand flew to my neck, patting it down. “Joshua?” I cried. When he gave me an impish smile, I stormed over to the mirror. “You branded me!” I cried in horror, looking at the ugly purple mark on my collar bone. When Joshua’s reflection merely smirked at me, I turned around and glared, thrusting my arms into the sweater’s sleeves. “It’s a good job I love you, Joshua Walsh, because that’s not cool. I can’t believe you gave me a hickey.”
Before I had finished speaking, he was in front of me. “What did you say?”
I pointed at the hickey. “Not. Cool.”
“Before that.”
“Oh, I said I love you, though I’m currently wondering why,” I grumbled. “I would have said it sooner but I didn’t want you to think I was only saying it because you said it to me.”
“Only you could be grumpy because you love me,” he chuckled.
I glared up at him. “I’m grumpy because you branded me!”
“I love you too, darlin’,” Joshua said, his bedroom eyes back.
I took a step back and gave him my best innocent expression. “Shame we only have two minutes, isn’t it?” I asked, rhetorically. Then, I smiled. “But I do love you,” I added.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Conversations with Myself
I headed straight to the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked her, glancing around. Maggie was busy at the stove, dishing up greens into a serving bowl, which was when I caught my reflection in the oven window. I’d been so focused on the damn hickey that I’d paid no attention to my hair. It was ruffled to say the least.
I hurried to flatten it, but Maggie turned, saw what I was doing, and gave me a knowing smile. “You can put these on the table,” she said, handing me the bowl. I took them, eager to be doing anything else as I waited impatiently for Joshua to join me in the awkwardness.
