Servants of Fate

by Wendy Sparrow

  “My name is Ruin. Ruin…” He stopped and laughed once while shaking his head. “Angelus.”

  “Angelus? Doesn’t that mean…?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Never mind.” So, maybe her brother had sent a guy he viewed as a guardian angel after all. It didn’t mean that the man was an actual angel. He just had a last name that meant “angel” in some languages. No big deal.

  Except that her brother had said he’d send him.

  Plus he’d appeared out of nowhere in the minutes she’d been gone—just prior to her brother’s passing.

  “Whatever you’re thinking... I’m just here to help you,” Ruin said, stepping back and holding his hands up.

  “Help with?”

  “Anything you need,” he said.

  She nodded. This was a lot to process. She sat down in the chair that Ruin had vacated. “I think I’d like to be alone for a bit.”

  He walked over and bent down, making eye contact. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Phoebe. I swear you won’t have to handle this alone. I promised your brother.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes again and she whispered, “Thank you.” A blink later, he was gone. Wait, had he walked out the door that fast? Or had he just disappeared? She looked at her brother... who had a very satisfied smile on his face. He’d sent her a guardian angel. “You always were the smart twin.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you helping me, Mr. Angelus,” she said, greeting him at the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was pink from crying.

  It was strange to see a mortal a second time. Back when he did spend time with mortals, in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, his first name had become synonymous with... things. He should have changed his last name. He rarely used it these days. It was on documents that he presented to mortals and on the card he used to pay for items, so as not to mess with the currency of mortals by just summoning cash.

  “Call me Ruin.”

  “Ruin,” she repeated.

  He stared at her. The way her tongue had curved around his name was nice. It might be the first time he’d liked the sound of that word on a mortal’s lips in centuries.

  She stepped back, inviting him into her house.

  This was another experience that felt foreign. Few women brought him in their houses. Perhaps the fact that he’d never seen any of them again substantiated their belief that he wasn’t a man you took home.

  “You know, I don’t know what you and my brother agreed on.” She took a deep breath. “But I’ll really be fine if you have other things to do... better things to do than watch over me.” With her porcelain skin and shiny blonde hair, Phoebe looked like a China doll, and she was looking at him with absolute trust in her crystal blue eyes. She was far too sweet.

  He didn’t like sweet women. They made him feel more perverse and, well, ruined. However, he’d promised her brother and he never broke a promise; never failed to fulfill his duty. “No. I’m at your service. I want to be here.” He did, strangely enough.

  She dropped her head to stare at their feet while biting her lip. “If you’re sure. I’m going to be an absolute wreck for a good long time.” She sniffed. “He was my only family.”

  “That’s why he was concerned about you. I told him I’d look out for you, and I will. Now, what do you need to do today?”

  Phoebe inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “Funeral arrangements. I also have his room to clean out but that can wait.” Another breath. “He lived with me the past year... when he wasn’t in the hospital.” She closed her teary eyes.

  Stepping forward, he pulled her into a hug. He’d seen countless men do it in films. It felt more natural than he’d have expected, even after she burst into noisy tears that immediately soaked the front of his shirt. Men in films rubbed crying women’s backs. He did that too. He could do this. For a year. They could be a sort of friends, but that was it, even if she felt really good in his arms.

  He was immortal.

  Phoebe Daniels was not.

  A relationship was out of the question. One of them would get hurt, and it’d most certainly be Phoebe. He’d earned the name Ruin since it’d been repurposed so many centuries ago. In a year, he’d go take another soul and leave Phoebe to her mortal life.

  Men and women could be friends. It probably happened all the time. He ignored the humming attraction building with their close contact. One year. Then they’d forget each other and move on.

  He held her like it was his first time ever comforting a woman and maybe that’s what made her cry harder. He was so tenderly inept, but he was trying for her.

  In the days that followed, he really did try too. He helped deal with the funeral director; helped her organize the funeral. He even made sure she ate regularly—something she hadn’t been doing the past six months. There was always something off about the way he did things. A hesitation and a look that questioned, “Is this what I’m supposed to be doing?” His speech was precise and felt practiced.

  She’d heard him speak other languages three times at the funeral when people came up to him. They had a distant cousin who was Lithuanian. He spoke with her. Phillip’s old boss lapsed into French periodically, and it’s possible neither of them noticed when the conversation just continued in French. She had no idea what language he spoke with the man attending another grave at the cemetery, but it sounded... Swedish... maybe.

  She’d asked Ruin how many languages he spoke. He’d looked puzzled and said he didn’t really know anymore.

  How could you not know?

  The mystery that was Ruin Angelus took her mind off the pain of losing Phillip every now and again. It was a welcome respite from that raw wound that’d started forming nearly a year ago when they’d been told he was inoperable. A year had been a blessing, seeing as they’d given him six months... tops. She’d always gotten the feeling Phillip was holding on, despite the pain, waiting for something.

  Maybe for Ruin.

  Maybe angels like Ruin only came around with the new year.

  Hopefully it wasn’t a sin to be attracted to him. He most likely didn’t feel the same way. Though there were times when Ruin hugged her and his arms would tighten before he’d pull back with a jerk, but that might have been his awkwardness with any social interaction. Angels probably weren’t attracted to mortal women. Even if, with his dark looks and haunted air, he looked more like a fallen angel than one sent to restore her faith.

  He never mentioned God or religion, though. That threw her. She’d suggested the service be nondenominational just to see what he’d say. If ever there was a time for an angel to step in and pick a church... but he’d just shrugged. It was hard to make something of that so she tried not to.

  After the funeral, she didn’t see him for a couple days and the world felt darker and emptier than ever. Then he showed up with a pizza and a DVD that “his brother said women might like.”

  “You have a brother?” she asked after they’d sat down on the couch to eat.

  He froze with a pizza slice midway to his mouth. “Yes. I have brothers.”

  “How many?”

  He looked down, his jaw clenched. Maybe he didn’t know. At the very least, he didn’t want to tell her.

  “Never mind. Tell me about the brother who knows so much about women’s taste in movies.”

  Ruin exhaled in obvious relief and looked up. “Zeit lives in Boise. He’s married to a... woman... named Hannah.” It was almost laughable how carefully he chose his words. “He knows more about women than my other brothers. Well... what women like. Well... what women like outside of…” He frowned. “Never mind.”

  Outside of... what? Outside of sex? Angels could do that? Maybe she’d guessed wrong on what he was about to say. But one of his brothers was married? That was weird. “Are any of your other brothers married?”

  “No. Just Zeit. Zeit is... different from the rest of us.”

  “I guess. It sounds like th
e rest of you are confirmed bachelors then?”

  He tilted his head, considering. “I suppose you could call us that.”

  She was falling into the classic female conundrum with relationships: how does one get a confirmed bachelor to mend his ways? It was completely foolish because they were bachelors with good reason and Ruin, of all bachelors, was that way probably for a very good reason. Possibly a righteous reason. Oh, she was so bad. But why did he have to be so interesting and awkwardly kind? It was sexy. It shouldn’t be, but it was. Maybe everything was sexy when a guy looked like Ruin.

  “What?” he asked.

  She’d been staring. Phoebe shook her head. “Nothing. Does Zeit look like you?”

  “Yes. Well, he looks a year older than me. Now.”

  “He’s a year older?”

  He had that deer in the headlight look again. It was cute to see him panic when he’d backed himself into a corner. Hmm. She might need to meet Zeit. She threw him a bone. “Oh, he just looks older?”

  Another huge relieved sigh. “Yes.” He glanced around and his gaze landed on the DVD. “So... the movie?”

  She nodded.

  Ruin was so adorable. She was so doomed. In fact, she might even be ruined. Ugh. Pathetic.

  He bought a motorcycle. If he was going to be around for a year—it almost made sense. Plus, he liked it. He also bought a condo. He’d give it to someone when the year was over. He might keep the motorcycle.

  “You have a motorcycle?” Phoebe asked when he arrived that night. It was her first day back at work, and he’d wanted to check on her. Ruin had intended to make contact no more frequently than once a week. That was often enough. He could watch her on other days and certainly boost her fate in life as often as possible—she deserved a good year. Instead, he’d seen her every day the week of the funeral... for hours at a time. Then multiple times the next week. Now, this week, he’d already seen her twice, and here he was again.

  “Yes. I have a motorcycle.” He should probably act casual about it, act like he owned many things. Not that this and the furnished condo were the only significant things he’d ever owned for any length of time.

  He was an owner now.

  He owned things.

  It was strange. It was like he was connected to this city in Nevada and this time—this place and time that held Phoebe Daniels.

  She was wearing a soft blue cashmere sweater that matched the color of her eyes perfectly—did she know that? She shaded her eyes with her hand as she checked out his motorcycle parked in front of her house. Finally, she nodded. “I like it. It fits you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s dark and looks a bit dangerous and it just... fits you. I don’t know.” She spun on her heels and walked back into the house, leaving the door open.

  He followed her. Hopefully, she’d meant for him to. The door squeaked and wouldn’t shut easily.

  “You have to pull it hard to close it,” she called over her shoulder. “Phillip said the wood had swelled. He’d meant to replace it, but…”

  Ruin nodded. He could fix it. Somehow. That sounded like something he could do for her. Closing the door forcefully, Ruin asked, “You know I’m not dangerous, though, right? Not to you.” He didn’t want her scared of him.

  “Are you dangerous to other people?” she asked, spinning back to face him.

  Phoebe always managed to find the questions he didn’t want to answer. “I can be, I suppose.” At least once a year, he was. Most of the fate he created was beneficial all around, but once a year—he was the last person anyone wanted to see, aside from her brother. Phillip had seemed anxious to see him and Phoebe had said several times how good it was that Phillip wasn’t in pain anymore.

  She folded her arms and continued to watch him. It was like she saw through all his words and his mask and knew what he was.

  “Yes, well, you don’t scare me.”

  “How was work?”

  She laughed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. That just sounded so domestic. Hi, honey, I’m home. How was your day?”

  The comparison made him shift uncomfortably. Or maybe it was the jeans. He wasn’t used to wearing jeans. Or a black leather jacket. It all went with his new lifestyle as a motorcycle rider. The jacket was especially strange. It was rare that he was without his black trench coat.

  “It was your first day back at work,” Ruin said. “I thought that might be... difficult.”

  Phoebe shrugged. “I keep waiting for it to be real. I think I’m still expecting him to walk through that door like he used to... before he got so bad.” She sniffed. “Up until the end, he had so much energy. Plus, he was my twin. You don’t lose that without feeling like you’ve lost a bit of yourself.”

  Her brother was right; she did need someone. It was a shame she had to settle for him. “But everyone at work was... nice to you?”

  She laughed again. It was good to hear her laugh. “Yes, Mom, none of the other kids pushed me down on the playground. Of course they were nice. They acted like I would shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Lia asked if I needed her to keep doing my reports for a few more weeks—as if data entry was going to be the thing that broke me.” She tipped her head to the side. “C’mon, Ruin. Let’s go do something normal. Or maybe something I didn’t do every day before my life got smashed.” Her eyes lit up and a smile he didn’t trust spread across her lips. “I know! Let’s go for a ride on your motorcycle.”

  “Uhh.”

  She stepped toward him and grabbed his shoulders. “I just want to live a little, Ruin.” She smirked. “It’ll be fine. I’ve got my own guardian angel watching over me.”

  His mouth went dry. Was she saying she thought he was her guardian angel?

  “My brother wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” she said a moment later.

  Oh. Good. He could always stop time if something went wrong. “Okay.”

  Her blue eyes got even wider. “Okay?”

  She seemed surprised—as if she’d expected him to deny her this. He really didn’t have much willpower where she was concerned already. It was disquieting.

  They walked back to his motorcycle and he pulled an extra helmet from the side bag.

  Grinning, she shoved his shoulder before taking the proffered helmet. “You dork, you made me ask you and you’d already planned on it. You even brought an extra helmet.” Actually, he’d willed it into being from another plane just before opening the side bag. It was probably better if he let her think he’d planned this. She put the helmet on as he got on the motorcycle. Then, she paused before getting on behind him. The helmet covered most of her expression so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “What?” he asked finally.

  “Don’t hold back okay?”

  “You mean on our ride?”

  She paused. “Ever. Don’t ever hold back. Life is too short for that.”

  Not his. And he’d have to hold back a lot. They were just supposed to be friends and he felt a whole lot more than friendship lately. Even with the colder temperature of a January day, Phoebe made him hot. This was probably a bad idea, but she was irresistible.

  “Woo!” she shouted, holding her arms out—making Ruin laugh. The laughter rumbled through his torso making their bodies rub together. Wow, that felt good. So good. Being so wildly hot for her guardian angel had to be a special sort of sin. She should really tell him that she knew what he was. It was silly that they were pretending he was normal still. Ridiculous even.

  She wrapped her arms around him again. As good as catching the wind in her fingers felt—this felt even better. Holding Ruin might be a good comparison to holding the wind, though. How long would he stick around once she got through her grief over losing her brother?

  They stopped at an overlook outside of town and she got off the bike.

  “Oh, wow, my legs feel like they’re still vibrating,” she said after she took the helmet off. She’d spoken far too loud
as her hearing hadn’t quite adjusted from the ride. Her hair felt like every single strand was either matted to her scalp or sticking up straight. It should have detracted from the charged atmosphere of the moment, but when Ruin took off his helmet, while still astride the motorcycle, she glimpsed the naked desire in his eyes as he stared at her. He wanted her. Even if it didn’t make sense.

  She stepped forward, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. At first, he didn’t respond. Maybe he was too surprised. Maybe he didn’t like it. Then, he tunneled his fingers into her hair, grabbing a firm hold of her, and kissed her back. Oh, he liked it... and she liked that he liked it. Mmm.

  When she would have opened her mouth to make this kiss a whole lot more, he pulled back and stared at her.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said with a sincerity that unnerved her.

  “How bad is it that you did?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Will you go to hell or something?” If so, that was a new low in her abysmal dating history.

  “Go to hell?” he repeated.

  “Do angels go to hell for kissing?”

  His mouth opened and closed. “I promised your brother we’d be friends,” he finally said.

  “Friends can kiss.”

  “I don’t think they can.”

  “We seem to have managed it just fine.”

  “I don’t think they should.”

  She stared at him. Maybe it hadn’t been that great for him. “Maybe we should just forget this happened and go back to being friends.”

  They both dropped their hands to their sides. This was super awkward. She picked up the helmet she’d dropped when she’d attempted to torpedo their relationship.

  “What did you mean about the angel thing?” he asked.

  She looked down at the helmet, rubbing at a fresh scratch she’d put into it, but she rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Ruin. You’re not really going to deny it, are you?” She glanced up to find him watching her, his jaw tight and his eyes concerned. Uh huh. The fact that she didn’t really need to define what he wasn’t meant to deny said it all. He was an angel. Who apparently wouldn’t go to hell for kissing but still didn’t want to kiss her.