20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Demelza Carlton

  “That sounds lively,” I said, and I followed the guy into Heaven.

  Tea Time with Angels

  Small Cottage by the Sea

  Heaven

  Kuparr led me along a neatly cobbled pathway towards the nearest cottage. Every step I took left a scorched, smouldering footprint behind me and sent thin trails of smoke drifting up from the path. The wind blew gently behind me, tossing my bangs around and generally making me appear—I was sure—about ten thousand times more sexy than I already was.

  Or at least I definitely felt that way. There was something distinctly primal about breaking into Heaven, or any other place I wasn’t supposed to go. It always felt so…naughty.

  Which, I was forced to admit, may or may not have been a construct of this place. A feeling that they were deliberately trying to evoke in order to make it seem more perfect to me.

  Damn those celestial bastards. They were good.

  “Here we are,” said Kuparr, putting his hand on the door and turning the handle. “This should do nicely.”

  Inside was a strange sight; a weird mash-up between “Grandma’s Tea Party” and “Baby’s First BDSM Bash”. A large table stood in the centre of the cottage, with a circle of six teacups resting around it, each place having a corresponding chair. The walls were lined with both erotic paintings and bondage implements hanging on hooks and a kettle was whistling on a small kitchenette.

  “Reminds me of home,” I said, stepping inside and giving a firm nod to the attention to detail. Either Heaven really did have some kinky fuckers on their payroll, or somehow, this place was able to adjust itself to accommodate my particular…tastes.

  Kuparr stepped inside and scooped up the kettle with one hand, fetching teabags with the other. He poured out two cups, dunked the bags in, then gestured for me to sit.

  “Tea is great,” I said, pulling back the chair and sliding into it, “but as fun as this is, and as tempting as it is to try out that leather suit of yours, we do have business to attend to. Some crazy shit is going down on the mortal realm right now.”

  “Oh, I know,” said Kuparr, smiling widely as he took his seat opposite mine, leaning forward and inhaling the steaming aroma from his tea cup. “I’m guessing that you want us to intervene on your behalf, to either restore your access to Hell, restore Gabe’s access to Heaven, and almost certainly to call the nephilim off your backs.”

  “That is exactly what we want,” I said, firmly. “All three of those things. But definitely the last one.”

  Kuparr dipped his head. “Then everything’s totally in order.”

  “Great.” I sipped some of the tea. It was spicy, strangely enough, but quite delicious and piping hot. “Let me know when I can see someone very important because this shit is off the chain.”

  Kuparr sipped his tea too. “I’m not perfectly informed about the state of the chain vis-a-vi being on or off it,” he said, a mildly confessional edge to it. “They don’t really tell me anything here.”

  “Hey,” I said, “at least you remember your life.”

  “Not really.” Kuparr sipped a little more of his tea. “I didn’t have a life, here or in the mortal realm or otherwise. This is my first day of existence. I came into being the exact moment you appeared on that beach out there, mate.” He smiled. “I don’t actually look like this. Constructs don’t look like anything.”

  “Constructs?”

  “Mmm.” He put his cup down. “Imagine the following predicament. Two people are in love. They cannot be without each other. One earns the right to end up here, the other one does not. While the wicked party is receiving their just desserts, from the good party’s perspective, living without their companion is a torture.”

  “Okay,” I said, cautiously. “So…”

  “So we have constructs. They—we—are built to easily become any living person, real or imagined. We can perfectly, indefinitely, mimic the words, actions, and feelings of that party, to preserve their feelings, and accordingly, preserve the value of their reward.”

  “Wait.” I spent a moment trying to process this. “So you’re saying that when good people die and go to Heaven, anyone they wished was there, but didn’t make it…gets replaced by a robot?”

  Kuparr took a little bit more of his tea. “I’m not a robot, but that’s basically the general idea.”

  That…was so weird and creepy I had no idea how to even respond to it. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because,” said Kuparr, matter-of-factually, “your version of heaven is one where it’s believable to you, but you end up hating it after a short period of time. I’m working towards that goal of yours now.” He smiled widely. “I hope you think I’m doing a good job.”

  Made sense to me. I was already itching to leave and I hadn’t been here more than a few minutes. The whole thing with fake people creeped me out. If I was a mortal, the constructs wouldn’t be my friends and loved ones; just fakers pretending to be them. So weird. “You’re doing great,” I said, saluting him with the tea cup then drinking a bit more. “But…I actually do have a job to do. I gotta talk to one of the bigwigs, if you know what I mean.”

  “A discussion is already taking place on your behalf, mate,” said Kuparr, finishing his drink. “We’re all working on it.”

  I knew that. “But you don’t have all the facts,” I said. “I haven’t been allowed to testify.”

  “The agents of Heaven have been keeping a close eye on you,” said Kuparr, smiling politely. “They know all they need to make a judgement on this matter.”

  I wasn’t sure how that even could be true. Unless…a naughty thought flew into my head. “So,” I said, considering a moment. “I was right when I said to Gabe that Heaven was watching. They were even watching what we did at spin the bottle, at that party at Damien’s house.”

  “Correct. While it’s true that we normally wouldn’t be actively watching all mortals all the time, demonic entities on the mortal realm usually do evoke our concern.”

  Yeah. I bet. “And nephilim?”

  “They, too, receive extraordinary attention.”

  I put down my teacup. “Okay,” I said, leaning forward slightly over the table, getting a little sick of all the dancing around. “Here’s the thing. I want a few things from you guys. Collectively I mean.” I took a deep breath. “Gabe didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “First and foremost. He really did nothing wrong. He was doing his job, on an assigned mission from you guys. He took out a succubus, just like me, and he was playing the long game; investigating Damien, probably trying to find out what I was sent to get, but in a lot more subtle, more…better way.” I felt my throat tightening up, as though the words themselves didn’t want to come out. “It’s not his fault.”

  “Heaven is well aware of that,” said Kuparr, “but you have to understand, there are rules. Rules are important. Rules are all we have, and we treat them very seriously. This is why Lucifer is no longer welcome in these hallowed lands…the rules are paramount.”

  Of course. That made sense. Heaven loved their rules.

  “Fine,” I said. “When can I know?”

  Kuparr sipped his tea. “We should have an answer momentarily.”

  Heaven Help Me

  Small Cottage by the Sea

  Heaven

  Shortly. I had no idea how short or long that actually would be, so Kuparr and I just sat there, staring at each other, our empty cups resting delicately on fine saucers.

  “More tea?” he asked, politely.

  “No thank you.”

  “Something else?” he asked, smiling that polite, gentle smile of his. “Maybe you’d prefer to tie me up and beat me?”

  I couldn’t help but snort out a little laugh. “To be perfectly honest,” I said, “I’d rather just sit here and wait for Heaven’s verdict on this matter.” I sighed, reaching up and pinching the bridge of my nose. “But anything else you can tell me would be really useful, to be honest.”

  “Well,” said Kuparr,
considering for a moment. “I know that the major players involved, mostly archangels and high ranking Heavenly agents, are debating the various arguments now. Despite what you might imagine, Heaven encourages diversity of thought, so it’s not an easy decision. There was, until fairly recently, a position called the Advocatus Diaboli—literally, devil’s advocate—who argued as they imagined the Morning Star might. Unfortunately it was recently abolished.”

  “Doesn’t sound very diverse,” I said, trying to find light of the situation and failing.

  “We aren’t perfect. Heaven does not require perfection.”

  “Right,” I said, sarcasm creeping into my voice. “It’s okay if you murder a bunch of people, because the only thing that matters is that you tried to be good.”

  “Not quite like that. Things are…complex. Outcomes are measured as well as intentions, although if you ask me, intentions are weighed too heavily and outcomes too lightly.”

  There seemed to be some underlying message there, some hidden meaning I couldn’t quite grasp, but it eluded me. “Okay. Isn’t that…good for me? Gabe’s intentions were pretty damn noble.”

  Kuparr shook his head. “He, on two occasions, attacked a nephilim. There is nothing about his intentions that were noble in that matter.”

  “He was trying to protect me,” I said, scowling. “He was trying to stop Juliet because she was being loco. She was causing more disturbances to the mortal realm than she was fixing. Really, actually, I take that back. It’s all her fault.”

  “I agree with you,” said Kuparr. Although, I had to wonder, exactly how much of that agreement was predicated on him being a construct that was designed to make me feel certain ways. Then again, he had openly admitted that his goal was to make me hate Heaven, so…who even knew at this point. I couldn’t untangle that web and, if I was being frank with myself, I didn’t even really want to. Shit was bananas.

  “Fine,” I spat, unable to keep the venom out of my voice. “I get it. You’re a damn machine. That’s okay. I just want to know when the decision is made, so that…” I wasn’t quite sure where I was going with this. “So I can get the hell out of here.”

  “Too right mate,” said Kuparr.

  We sat in silence. The seconds turned into minutes. I was slowly but inexorably seized with an uncomfortable feeling in my gut; a dark, uneasy feeling that I simply could not shake. This…wasn’t right. Something bad was happening; it was almost as though I could smell it.

  “We’re boned, aren’t we?” I asked Kuparr.

  “The decision hasn’t been made yet.”

  I ran my hands over my head, trying to soothe away that worried feeling. “I…just—I don’t think it’s possible for things to get more screwed up than they already are. This is really our last chance.”

  “This too shall pass,” said Kuparr. “It might pass like a kidney stone, but it will pass. Heaven and Hell have always been at each other’s throats…this is nothing, believe me.”

  Quaint, but not that useful. “I just feel that everything’s resting on me.”

  “Gabe is working hard,” he said, gently. “It is obvious to all that he wants to protect you. That is something that may play in his favour.”

  “May,” I said, sceptically.

  A faint, electronic beep sounded. Kuparr checked his watch, one of those fancy smart-watch things. “Gabe’s mission to the pit has been completed.” Kuparr scrolled on the tiny screen. “Unfortunately, it appears as though he was not successful in gaining an audience.”

  The stinging, burning feeling in my gut intensified. “He…didn’t even make it past the fortifications?”

  “According to this incredibly short report, no. He has been expelled back to the mortal realm.”

  “Is he…okay?”

  “He’ll survive,” said Kuparr.

  I slumped back into my seat. He didn’t even manage to gain an audience with Lucifer. That didn’t sound good for me. The Morning Star was not a forgiving creature, of that I knew—a brutish, savage thing who ruled through strength—but I expected him to be, at least, open to talk.

  Apparently not.

  “Sounds bad,” I said.

  “It is bad,” said Kuparr, still smiling that gentle, disarming, almost creepy smile.

  I kept forgetting he was just a robot. Just a construct, a programmed image that had nothing behind it. I balled my hand into a fist and gave him the bird.

  He sat there, still smiling, staring at my raised finger. “You probably shouldn’t do that,” he advised, softly. “It won’t help your case.”

  “Yeah, well, if Heaven is going to change their opinion over the way I’ve arranged my fingers, then I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust their judgement and wisdom. They aren’t making a good decision for the right reasons.”

  “A good point, but even celestials have…an edge of humanity to them. They are not perfect. They have emotions. They feel things. They sometimes do very silly, very foolish things.” He waved his hand over his tea cup and it refilled with steaming tea. I could smell mine had similarly refilled. “Your…friend…Gabe is a perfect example of that. As is Lucifer.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, anger welling up within me again. “I get it. Really. I just—”

  Kuparr’s watch chimed again, an identical tone to the one that had come from it before. “A decision has been made,” he said.

  I gripped the edge of the table tightly as I waited for him to read.

  War and Peace

  Small Cottage by the Sea

  Heaven

  Kuparr read. And read. And read.

  “Well?” I asked, glaring at him angrily. “You said a verdict had been reached. What do you…”

  He was so busy reading he was not listening to me, flicking his finger over his smart-watches screen over and over and over. What the hell was he reading? Lucifer’s Teeth, had Heaven messaged him the entire complete text of War and Peace?

  “The decision on the matter of Lord Gabriel,” said Kuparr, “in brief, is that while there are many factors that have led to events playing out as they have, and while many of these were beyond the control of Lord Gabriel, the fact remains that he has behaved in strict defiance of Heaven’s mandates and instructions have led us to an inexorable conclusion regarding his presence in Heaven; specifically that he is no longer welcome here on an ongoing, permanent basis, until such time as this decision is reversed.” He looked at me with what seemed to be genuine sympathy. “This decision is not open to appeal at this time.”

  Normally I would have said something shitty and sarcastic upon hearing that; something along the lines of, Well, tough shit, Heaven sucks and he’ll have to get over it!, but as it was, I just felt vaguely hollow and defeated. It was so odd for someone like me to be feeling disappointment that an angel was kicked out of Heaven, but I genuinely felt that he didn’t deserve that.

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s…that’s a thing that I’ll have to process in due time—”

  “In due time,” echoed Kuparr. “Bad luck, mate.”

  “Right…in—in due time. But for now,” I said, nodding toward the watch. “I’m guessing there’s more there. Stuff that I’ll be somewhat more interested to hear.”

  Kuparr almost seemed to look guilty as he read. “Regarding the Nephilim Establishment, the Heavenly Choir have determined that they acted within the bounds of their authority.” He lowered his wrist. “Their sentence on both of you stands. The actions of Lady Juliet-Tango-Delta-Five-Eight-Eight are judged to be both fair and just and legitimate.”

  Well…shit.

  “That’s not good.”

  “That is, in fact, not good,’ said Kuparr. He pushed back his chair slowly, and then stood. “It’s time to go.”

  “No!” I slammed back my chair, pushing it over backwards. “I’m not done here. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone except you about this, and I’m not leaving here until I do!”

  Kuparr shook his head. “I’m afraid there is no avenue for appe
al on this matter.”

  I focused my anger, my fingers elongating into thick claws. “I don’t think so.”

  He didn’t seem bothered by my display. “It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, Heaven or Hell.” He tilted his head slightly. “Buddha said that.”

  I remembered what Gabe had promised. That my actions would reflect upon him as his own. Not that it mattered, since he was exiled, but…I still didn’t want to cause any further problems for him.

  Slowly, deliberately, I retracted my claws.

  “Fine,” I said, exhaling a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. “Let’s go.”

  Kuparr moved back to the door, then led me back toward the water.

  God Helps Those Who Help Themselves

  Small Cottage by the Sea

  Heaven

  I followed Kuparr back toward the beach, where the sparkling, sapphire ocean stood waiting for me.

  “I’m guessing that this is the way out,” I said, dejectedly.

  “The water’s fine,” said Kuparr, nodding in understanding. “And it will take you back to where you came. I’m sorry that you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

  I should have felt angry. Angry with…rage. Fury at being denied access to what I had come for. Yet I did not. Instead I felt a weird sense of calm and surrender. As though it was okay that we were screwed. That Gabe was screwed. That Asmodeus was probably screwed for sticking with us, even though he had done absolutely nothing wrong. Probably didn’t even want this assignment. Only came back because he was told to.

  Hell was unfair like that. You could easily be punished for something that you had no control over.

  “I’m sorry too,” I said, and without saying anything more, I stepped forward into the water, a wave washing foam over my ankles.