[Anthology] The Paranormal 13- now With a Bonus 14th Novel!

by Dima Zales

  I exhaled, pressing the side of my forehead into his neck. Like his chest, his skin felt warm and smooth, with the light scent of whatever soap he’d used in the shower. Some sort of AXE brand, like the one Terrell said he could smell on me. I preferred the Old Spice Michael normally wore, but it worked for him.

  “You think I’m an idiot, huh?”

  Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Sometimes.”

  “No, I meant about seeing my ex. I shouldn’t have seen him. Can’t have him anyway. Not good enough. Besides, nobody wants to date a crazy lady who sees ghosts.” My voice grew softer with every sentence.

  Michael let out a small sigh, but I could hear the smile. “You never know. I hear the crazy ones are the most fun to date.”

  At last, a grin found its way to my lips. “Like you’d know.”

  “Well, I was human for a long while.”

  I let my head drop to the pillow, filling my vision with Michael’s smirking visage. “You ever sleep with anyone?”

  His eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “No, I…didn’t get into a relationship. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I couldn’t remember who I was and I doubt many girls would understand that.”

  An interesting thought materialized in my head. “Was I your first kiss?”

  He watched me with a careful expression. After a moment, he closed his eyes and his voice lost its emotion.

  “I think you should get some rest.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s late and I don’t think it’s very healthy for me to be around you like this. I might end up breaking rules that are in place for your protection,” he whispered, eyes smoldering with something that made shudders trickle down my back. Normally it would have made me nervous, but tonight I wasn’t. What I saw in Michael’s eyes was the opposite of what I’d seen in Terrell’s. Terrell wanted me because he thought I’d be a good wife and mother. Michael wanted me because…he wanted me. No ulterior motive or future plans. He knew we’d be screwed up if we tried to have a relationship. I knew it too. The only problem was that neither one of us seemed to accept that fact just yet.

  Evidence of the latter began to rise as I lifted my face enough to brush a small kiss on the corner of his lips. “What if I don’t want you to protect me?”

  Michael let out a long exhale. “Jordan.”

  I didn’t know if the alcohol made me do it or if it was my own selfish desire, but I kissed him again and he didn’t move away or tell me to stop. God. His lips were so soft. The tension that had been there when he laid me down returned to his back and shoulders, which I felt coiling beneath my fingertips like mattress springs. We stayed pressed together for a long moment until he let out a low sound—a groan of pleasure—and slipped his tongue past my lips. Just like that, I felt something metaphysical between us snap, and then my entire body became engulfed in an almost palpable heat. It ate at my skin like fire devouring a log, dizzying, torturous, and amazing. All at once, I realized it was his desire. He’d been holding it back from me. I’d never known just how powerful his feelings were when they manifested into physical forms.

  His fingers wrapped around my forearms and lowered them from around his neck, pinning them against the pillow on either side of my head. He sighed into my mouth—a warm rush of breath—and broke the kiss, his voice several octaves lower for reasons that made goosebumps roll over the skin along my throat.

  “Sleep.”

  He let go of my arms and climbed off of the bed. My eyelids began to droop almost immediately. I didn’t fight the creeping darkness. As my mind started to drift, I could just barely hear Michael’s voice—low and soft in the quiet room.

  “The angels are stooping

  Above your bed;

  They weary of trooping

  With the whimpering dead.

  God’s laughing in Heaven

  To see you so good;

  The Sailing Seven

  Are gay with His mood.

  I sigh that kiss you.

  For I must own

  That I shall miss you

  When you have grown.”

  “A Cradle Song” by W. B. Yeats. With that, he disappeared into the bathroom. I fell asleep just as the spray of the shower reached my ears.

  22

  Morning didn’t arrive gracefully. It slapped me in the face with an open palm, or at least it felt like that on account of the massive headache reverberating through my skull. I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow, blindly hoping its coolness would soothe my pain. No such luck.

  A handful of minutes rolled by before I felt well enough to lift my head. Inch by inch, I withdrew from the pillow and tilted my face to look at the other bed. Michael wasn’t in it. The clock read half past noon. Where had he gone?

  Suppressing another moan of pain, I forced myself to sit up and ran my fingers through my incredibly mussed black hair so I could see. I shuffled over to the table against the far wall and found the Advil. Three pills would do the trick, or at least make me numb enough not to care. I drank some water from the sink to get them down and eyed the tepid water with distaste. Ice dispenser down the hall. Field trip.

  My clothes from last night were still on, so I just slipped on my shoes and stuffed the keycard to the room in my pocket before leaving. The yellow-tinted hallway showed no signs of life. People in New Jersey liked to sleep in. My kind of town.

  As I walked closer to the area where the ice dispenser and vending machines were, I could hear a familiar male voice. Confused, I peeked around the corner and spotted Michael facing the wall opposite me, speaking into his cell phone. The reception in the rooms was awful so he had to make calls out here. Good sense told me to go around the corner and tell him good morning but his next sentence stopped me.

  “I know He wants to see me, brother. What was I supposed to do? She was drunk.”

  My heart nearly skipped a beat. Wait, what was he talking about? I flattened myself against the wall and tried to remember last night. I had a few beers and went back to the hotel room. Michael had carried me back to the bed. We had a little chat and I…kissed him. Christ.

  I palmed my forehead, feeling the blood rush out of my face. Idiot. Lauren had told me before that I got a bit slutty when drunk, and obviously she’d been right. Now the Big Guy wanted to have a little discussion with Michael all because I couldn’t keep it in my pants for one night. Shit.

  My attention reverted back to the phone call. Gabriel’s calming voice wafted to my ears. The call wasn’t on speakerphone, but the volume was relatively loud.

  “I don’t blame you for that, Michael. You know I don’t.”

  “That makes one of you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “It’s a test, Michael. One that you should take very carefully.”

  “She’s not a test, she’s a person. You know that better than I do.”

  “Of course I do. Your situation is the test. All of the angels here on Earth have dealt with the desires of man except for you. It’s something we have to overcome. You will do the same in time.”

  I heard him sigh in a frustrated sort of way. “That’s just it, Gabe. I…part of me doesn’t want to overcome it. Part of me wants what I know I can’t have. What can I do about that?”

  “I can’t give you a definite answer, brother. However, ask yourself this question: which part of you wants her—the angel or the man?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

  “When you do know, you’ll have found the solution to your problem.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Please do. Remember, this isn’t just about the two of you. Your duty as Commander hangs in the balance as well. As much as you care for Jordan, you can’t forget that. Your heart’s never steered you wrong before. Listen to it.”

  “Yes, brother. I will.”

  “Good. Take care.”

  I hurried back down the hall and slipped inside the room, heart hammerin
g in my throat. No. This wasn’t the time to have a freak out. I slowed my breathing bit by bit and squared my shoulders. Gabriel was right. Michael wasn’t just a charming bodyguard. He was Commander of God’s Army in Heaven. He would exist forever in that role and there was nothing either of us could do to change it. It didn’t matter how I felt about him. I wouldn’t be responsible for him jeopardizing his mission. We both had a job to do in this world and we were damn well going to do it.

  The door opened and Michael appeared just as I began gathering my clothes to go take a shower. “Oh, you’re awake. I thought I’d have to scrape you off the mattress to get you up.”

  “We have a lot of stuff to do today. Figured it was time to get moving.” I kept my voice professional and without emotion.

  He shut the door and brushed past me. I nearly stumbled trying to make wider space between us as he passed by.

  Michael blinked at me, confused. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a little while.” Without another word, I shut myself in the bathroom. Well, that had gone well. I just needed a stuttering problem and Tom Cruise and I’d be all set.

  Today was going to be a long day. Definitely, definitely going to be a long day.

  “So where exactly are we meeting this guy?”

  “Just through here,” Michael replied, beckoning me as he found the right alley. The rain had finally left the city alone, but the concrete was still slick underfoot. I was happy to be wearing my Reeboks. I felt sorry for the ladies strolling around in pumps today. It was hard enough to stay upright in tennis shoes.

  “Gabriel said that our contact would meet us outside this bar around three o’clock.”

  I hopped over a partially disintegrated cardboard box, breathing in through my mouth as we passed by the overflowing dumpsters on both sides of the brick walls. We came to stop in front of the knob-less metal door that led to a local dive bar.

  The ghosts we interviewed earlier today had revealed startling news. Several of them were not from New Jersey, which didn’t sound that shocking at first until we found out they were from across the country—one even hailed from Michigan. Two others were from Illinois. They all said the same thing: they felt compelled to walk to New Jersey, to where we were, but they couldn’t explain why. Their needs to cross over had been pushed to the background of their residual minds. Gabriel and Michael agreed—there was a holy item involved.

  “If that’s true,” I said. “What are we bargaining for this information? Nothing important, I hope.”

  “Not that I know of. Gabriel told me this particular demon doesn’t want money or power or any of the usual bribes.” He started to say more, but the door flew open and a tanned, spindly man strolled towards us. His head was shaved bald and he had a long, narrow nose with brown-blonde eyebrows, giving his face a severe look in the afternoon sun. Other than the frown lines in his forehead, he didn’t seem all that intimidating, especially since he wore an unbuttoned black dress-shirt, white t-shirt beneath it, and jeans. He didn’t bother checking the alleyway since it was long and hidden from the main roads on both sides. Secluded. Dangerous. Sounds like somewhere a demon would like.

  “I’m guessing you’re my contact, right?” the man said, revealing that he had a thick Australian accent.

  Michael’s face had become unreadable. “Depends. What kind of information are you selling?”

  The demon smirked. “We don’t discuss that until we discuss my fee.”

  Michael cocked his head to the side. “What exactly is your fee?”

  The man rolled his neck, the thin smirk elongating. “A fight.”

  Michael stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing like a good scrap every now and then. I don’t really get one of good caliber these days. Humans are all soft little meat-jackets. Ya look like ya can put up a good one, for an angel,” he added, his upper lip curling with a sneer.

  Michael’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything rude. “We don’t have time for this. There has to be something else you want.”

  “Well…” The demon’s blue eyes fell on me and an unpleasant light flickered in them. “If ya don’t want to fight me, let me give ya girl here a kiss.”

  In an instant, my spine stiffened. I sent him a nasty glare. “Trust me, you don’t want any of this, pal.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be the judge of that, love.”

  The demon reached for me. I went for the gun holstered at the small of my back, intending to draw and maybe blow off one of his toes, but Michael appeared between us in an instant.

  “Touch her and I’ll feed you that hand finger by finger,” the archangel growled.

  The demon laughed, an arrogant bray that echoed down the empty alley, and stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. “Now that’s more like it. Gimme a good fight and I’ll give ya the information. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Michael shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the ground behind him, leaving him in a cream long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots. Except for his height, he didn’t seem all that scary until I noticed the murderous expression in his eyes.

  I touched his arm, murmuring his name, and he glanced down at me. “You’re not fighting for my honor, y’know. Calm it down, pretty boy.”

  His shoulders relaxed a little bit at the use of “pretty boy” and some of that righteous fury drained from his face.

  “I know.”

  “Good. Now be a dear and wipe the floor with this moron.”

  Michael spared me a wicked but dazzling smirk. “Will do.”

  The archangel straightened his posture as he turned to face the demon, who had shed his wrinkled outer shirt. He spread his legs in a wide stance and raised his fists to chest level.

  “So who, exactly, do I have the honor of fighting today?”

  Michael went with a side stance. “Michael.”

  “Mm. I thought it was you. The pretty one.”

  Michael’s jaw twitched again. I pressed my back to the wall, safely out of range of either man. I didn’t want to be anywhere near this demon when the archangel snapped.

  “I’m not sure if you’ll be much of a threat without that fancy sword of yours, but let’s see what you’ve got.” The demon rushed him, turning into a t-shirt-clad blur, but his speed meant nothing. Michael brought his right foot around in a perfect spinning side kick—which struck the demon right in the nose and floored him in half a second. My jaw dropped. So did the demon’s.

  He sputtered on the ground as blood blossomed from his nostrils down into his mouth, blue eyes wide with shock.

  Michael lifted an eyebrow, his voice flat. “Was that an acceptable answer?”

  The demon spat blood onto the ground and grinned, wiping his mouth clean with his forearm. “Ain’t that a bitch? First blood goes to the angel. Looks like Luka’s got his work cut out for him.”

  “Maybe Luka should stop referring to himself in the third person before he gets kicked in the face again,” I said with a sweet smile.

  He tossed a dirty look in my direction, which made me smile wider, and scrambled to his feet in an attempt to regain at least an ounce of dignity. Too late for that.

  All at once, the demon seemed to change as he faced Michael this time. He rolled his shoulders, causing a few ligaments to crack, and resumed the stance he had before, but it was slightly different—more solid, more balanced, and definitely more serious.

  He darted forward. Michael met him in mid-stride, blocking a vicious punch aimed at the angel’s throat. Michael grabbed Luka’s wrist with one hand and seized him beneath the arm, whirling and throwing him over his shoulder.

  The demon twisted his body in mid-air and landed in a crouch—a movement that looked eerily inhuman. In an instant, he lunged towards Michael again, this time leading with a side kick that shoved the angel back into the brick wall behind him. Luka immediately closed the distance between them, sending a flurry of punches at his face and upper torso. Michael dodged to
the side and kneed Luka in the stomach, hard enough to gain room to move away from the wall.

  Luka flew into a series of kicks that were so fast I had trouble following them—front kick, crescent kick, a high one aimed at the shoulder, another aimed low at the knees—and Michael avoided them with liquid grace, blocking the ones that were too fast to dodge.

  Luka finally managed to catch his left foot behind Michael’s right ankle and jerked him off-balance, wrapping an arm around his neck to choke him. Michael threw his head backwards, knocking it against Luka’s already damaged nose, and elbowed him in the gut. Luka collapsed against the wall and shook off the momentary pain, his face white with anger. Michael wore a placid, almost serene expression, maybe because he had the demon on his last legs. Luka spat out another mouthful of blood from his ruined nose and closed in, his muscles coiled tight with tension.

  He faked a high kick, causing Michael to jerk backward involuntarily, and kneed him in the groin, grabbing a handful of the angel’s hair and forcing him to his knees. Luka threw his arm around his neck and squeezed. Michael dug his hands into the demon’s forearm, struggling to get free. I took several steps forward without noticing, my hand reaching for my gun.

  Then, Michael grabbed Luka’s right hand and broke his thumb. The demon screamed in agony, letting go. The archangel grabbed him by the arm and slammed into the concrete face-first, forcing him into an arm lock.

  “Yield,” Michael ordered, shoving his knee into the demon’s spine so he couldn’t get up. Luka let loose an unearthly growl, glaring daggers at the angel over his shoulder.

  “You son of a—”

  Michael tightened his grip, causing another stream of curses to leave the pinned demon. “I won’t tell you a second time.”

  “Alright, ya bloody bastard! I give!” Luka snarled. Michael narrowed his eyes before slowly releasing him and taking a couple steps back. Luka rolled over and cradled his injured hand.

  “Great. This’ll take weeks to heal. I s’pose I owe ya an apology, but I can’t exactly offer ya a handshake.”