by Debra Dunbar
“Be ready,” he reminded me.
He gated away, and I ground my teeth in frustration. I was ready, right now. But not for a rotation cycle in Aaru. If I didn’t get it on soon with this angel — like tomorrow, I was going to explode. Or jump him. Duct tape clearly wasn’t an option, but I’d picked up a few things in Hel that might be as useful on angels as they were on demons. Lust raced through me as I envisioned having Gregory bound and helpless at my mercy. Or me bound and helpless at his mercy. Yeah — a much better scenario.
Arrrgh! I slammed the coffee cups in the sink and rinsed them, frustrated beyond words. A cold shower was in order, then perhaps a trip to the gym after lunch. A good five miles on the treadmill might do something to drive this terrible need from my body. If not, there was always Leethu’s sex toys still upstairs in the guest room.
–2–
I was freshly showered and eating lunch when I heard the knock. My friends just walked on in, and Gregory seldom used the physical entrances to my home. I went to answer it, hoping it was one of the local missionaries — the day begged for some comic relief.
An angel stood at my front door. A few years ago I would have crapped my pants, but now I just took a bite of my sandwich and looked him over. This one was less androgynous than the others, although still the typical fair–skinned blond. Clearly masculine, he was dressed in jeans and a navy polo shirt. I noted that he didn’t look nearly as good in the signature clothing as Gregory did.
“Yeah? What do you want?” I took another bite of sandwich.
“I’m requesting asylum.”
Well, that was a new one. I knew things had pretty much blown up in Aaru while I’d been banished, but I hadn’t realized the situation was bad enough that an angel would choose Hel over his homeland.
“The demons will kill you in two seconds flat.”
“The asylum isn’t for me. It’s for her.”
He motioned, and a woman came from the shadows of my porch. A human woman. She was in her early thirties with the tanned skin, black hair and angular features that hinted at Native American or mixed Spanish heritage. She was also hiding what I assumed was a curvy figure under a very unflattering, extra–large blouse. And she was very carefully not meeting my eyes. I crammed the rest of the ham and cheese into my mouth.
“She’ll probably last more than two seconds, especially if she’s a screamer.”
My words were muffled by the food, but the woman clearly understood. She paled and took a step backwards. The angel laid a firm, restraining hand on her shoulder. She snarled, dislodging his hand with a jerk of her arm. Interesting.
“Not in Hel. I’m asking for her to have asylum here.”
I choked a bit trying to swallow. “Here, as in this plane of existence? Dude, I don’t have any authority here. Per our contract, this is part of your holdings. I’m just a guest with special privileges. Talk to the big guy.”
The angel was beginning to look irritated. Or maybe he was nervous. Either way, the constant looking around or the glare coming my way weren’t adding to the peaceful calm of the fall morning.
“Your house. Asylum for this human woman and all she carries into your house.”
I looked over at the large purse draped across the woman’s shoulder. Asylum for her and her purse. I wondered if the request included the rocking Steve Madden boots she had on.
“How long?” I already had Nyalla living with me and often served as a hotel–for–demons when members of my household came over. I didn’t relish having another human, one I didn’t know, living here, no matter how awesome her footwear.
“For the remainder of her natural life.”
Fuck. Humans didn’t live very long, but that didn’t mean I wanted one shacked up in my house for life. I quickly calculated the likely term and swore. Damn, that would really put a cramp in my lifestyle. I opened my mouth to say “no” then looked at her boots once more. They were distressed brown leather, with a hint of a biker look about them. Brass studs decorated the toe and the back of the heel. She’d laced them halfway up then wrapped the excess lacing around her ankle to tie at the back. The tops flopped open with the sort of casual defiance I admired. Her blouse might look like a giant sack, but she had great taste in boots.
“Do I get to keep her stuff after she croaks?”
The angel didn’t hesitate. “Yes. All she carries will be your responsibility, now and after her death.”
The woman didn’t seem too happy about any of this, but she kept silent. I looked down at the Steve Maddens. I could be responsible for a pair of boots. It’s not like they were going to run around causing trouble — at least off of my feet.
“This is a significant favor you are requesting of me.” With angels, demons — it didn’t matter which — everything boiled down to favors.
He nodded, trying to hide a wince and not succeeding. “What can I do to repay you for this, Iblis?”
That was the fastest capitulation I’d ever witnessed. Either this angel was the worst negotiator in Aaru, or the woman had done something particularly heinous. What could a human possibly have done that she’d require demonic protection? Did she piss off an entire continent of werewolves? Kill a family of vampires? I eyed her with sudden respect and actually began to get excited about what her presence might bring to my door. I had enough to do with the continued elven shit storm in Hel, my onerous Ruling Council obligations, and my dwindling financial empire, but the prospect of pissed off vampires storming my house lightened my spirits considerably.
“Three favors. No restrictions. No time limit.”
“Done.”
What the fuck? Well, I’d just bought myself a human and all her baggage, which, thankfully, included a sweet set of boots. I stood aside, and the angel put a hand on her shoulder to urge her forward through the doorway.
“Get off me.” The woman yanked her arm away. She glared at the angel a few seconds before crossing the threshold. I noticed he remained on the other side.
“Which choir are you in, and how should I contact you?” I knew better than to ask his name. Angels were worse than we were when it came to that sort of thing. I doubted I’d even get any info on his choir out of him, but it was worth a shot.
“You don’t need to know my choir.”
Yeah, just what I’d thought.
“I’ll contact you,” the angel continued.
Like hell he would. “That’s unacceptable. If I’ve got a troll chewing off my legs, I want to be able to call in my favor right then — not two months later when you happen to show up.”
His eyes darted past me to the woman. “I’ll be back in a few months to visit. We can work out the details then.”
“I don’t know who you think you’ll be visiting, but it won’t be me,” the woman snapped. “Or anything I’m ‘carrying’ either.”
Wow. Pretty hostile when an angel had just granted three favors in return for her asylum. I wondered again what the woman had done, and why she was so pissed off at her benefactor.
“That’s fine, but I still want a way to contact you in the meantime. There’s a good chance I’ll get into some kind of trouble before you come back to visit. I’ve got a premonition I’ll need to cash in at least one of those favors in the next few weeks.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then take this bitch and go on home.”
The angel looked around the bushes, as if the bad guys were ready to spring on him at any moment.
“Come on, dude. Ain’t got all day here. Things to do, and all that.”
Instead of responding, he handed me a glass bead and vanished. Okay, that was a level of paranoia I hadn’t seen before. I examined the glass bead, noting the flecks of gold that swirled through the green before sticking it in my pocket and shutting the door.
“What’s your name?” The woman was standing by my dining table, rigid as a fence post. Her hands were white fists by her side. I got the distinct feeling she desperately wanted to stick a knife in
something. Maybe me, maybe that angel.
“Harper.”
Her voice was strong and unwavering, but she remained tense, her eyes averted. I sighed. “Okay, Harper. You can call me Sam. Take the first room at the top of the stairs for your own. Will your angel friend be sending over luggage? Clothing? Personal items?”
“No. I left rather unexpectedly and have nothing but the few things in my tote and what I’m standing in.”
As interested as I was in acquiring what she was standing in, the hostility in her voice drew my attention away from her shoes. I could practically hear her teeth grinding from across the room.
“No big deal. Make me a list, and we’ll go online later and order stuff.”
Nyalla had wreaked havoc on my cash flow with her altruistic gestures and ghoul–related repairs. Now I had another mouth to feed.
“Can I have your shoes?” I might as well get something out of this deal right now.
She removed them and extended the boots toward me. “Everything I carry is yours to guard and protect.”
I hesitated, wondering why the hell I was supposed to protect a pair of Steve Madden boots. Her expression was resigned, but her voice still held a note of fear … and a whole lot of anger.
Screw it. I snatched the boots. Then I shooed her upstairs, taking note of her size so I could get her the bare essentials on my way back home.
“Who was that?”
I spun around, putting the boots behind me. Shit. I hope Wyatt didn’t just see me take a woman’s shoes literally right off her feet.
“A house guest.” Damn, I’d put the woman in Leethu’s old room. Hopefully she liked all the sex toys and magazines.
“Sam’s hotel, huh?” He walked across the room and kissed me on the forehead. Wyatt smelled of sunshine and hay — so human.
“What’s this?” He pulled away and ran a finger over my bottom lip.
“Bit my lip.” I didn’t say who bit it. Gregory and Wyatt had come to an odd sort of friendship during my banishment in Hel. Wyatt seemed to be accepting of my relationship with the angel, but I didn’t want to rub his face in it.
“Ouch. Are you heading to the gym? I won’t keep you. Just wanted to stop by before I go up to Baltimore.”
Wyatt had suddenly become motivated. He had all sorts of contracts now with different gaming companies, and a few dealing with network security stuff. I was glad he was busy and not moping around while I raced off here and there with my crazy Iblis duties.
“I’m back in the angel jail tomorrow morning.”
He grimaced. “I kinda figured that was going to happen. How long this time?”
“Just the one rotation cycle, thanks to Rafael. I’ve got forty–eight hours to do two four–nine–five reports, though.”
I looked up and met Wyatt’s eyes, trying for a pleading, helpless expression. He sighed.
“Okay. Give me their names and what you know about them and I’ll get started on the reports.”
Wyatt was the best. It was like having a smart kid do your homework for you. I gave him all the information I knew about Joseph Barakel and Tyrone Cochran.
“On it. But you owe me for this one.” Wyatt grinned good–naturedly.
“Hot wings?”
“Charity work.”
Fuck, I hated when Wyatt made me do charity work. “The nursing home again?”
He frowned. “Not after Boomer bit that guy.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I protested. “They’re always giving him doggie biscuits; he thought the staff had provided a special treat. Honestly, the guy looked dead to me, too.”
“The soup kitchen is no longer an option either.”
I’d put hallucinogenic drugs into the soup. A good time was had by all — at least until the cops arrived.
“Can’t I just buy you some hot wings?”
Wyatt looked stern. I could see him thinking through all the charitable activities on his list and weighing his desire to reform me against what sort of havoc I would cause.
“Steak and lobster.” The guy wasn’t cheap. Still, it was better than picking up trash alongside the road, or cleaning dog kennels at the animal shelter.
“Deal.”
“Go to the gym. And call me when you get out of jail. I’m already dreaming of a juicy prime rib.”
I grabbed my bag, tossing him a smile over my shoulder. “Make reservations. I’ll throw on the little black dress and we’ll celebrate my bail with food.”
–3–
When I returned home, I pulled the Suburban around to the barn and unloaded the various sacks of feed and mineral blocks. Grabbing the shopping bags off the rear seat, I kicked the barn door closed behind me and headed toward the huge French doors that flanked the rear of my house. There, slouched in a lounge chair by the pool, was an angel. This one I recognized.
Rafael looked hardly angelic in his snug khaki shorts and silky, black t–shirt. His ebony hair shone deep purple in the sun, his wings a tracing of gold light extending beyond the sides of the chaise. He lowered his mirrored sunglasses as he saw me and wiggled his eyebrows.
“What’s cooking, good–looking?”
That had to have been the worst pick–up line I’d ever heard, although for an angel it was pretty hip. Slang wasn’t exactly a strength for them.
“Dinner. And I’d like to eat it, so tell me what the fuck this visit is about and take a hike.”
I liked Rafi. I should have been a bit nicer to him, especially since I needed to count on his vote in Ruling Council matters, but I just couldn’t summon the teasing, friendly Sam Martin. I was sexually frustrated, burdened with stupid work shit, and I’d spent most of the day shopping for my new houseguest. The thought of Harper sent my eyes scanning the nearby bushes for humans — particularly female humans. If Rafi was going to try to stick me with another angry, hostile woman seeking asylum, I’d run his wings through the chipper–shredder.
The angel swept the sunglasses off his face, and they vanished from his hand. “Aaru is falling apart. Some groups want to resume contact with the demons, others want to subject demons to a forced breeding program, and others feel we should be able to breed with the humans. We can’t keep up with all the violations of our laws. Even the Ruling Council is divided on what our future should look like and how we should achieve it.”
The transformation from playful, lighthearted Rafi to this serious one was disconcerting. Not as disconcerting as his words, though. I knew there had been an uprising, but had thought the rebels had been taken out, or at least scattered and rendered ineffective. No wonder Gregory was distracted. No wonder he’d had to run back to Aaru this morning. This was interesting information, but I wasn’t sure what Rafi expected me to do with it.
“So?” I shrugged. “Why should I care about what happens in Aaru? I’ve got Hel. Heaven is your problem, not mine.”
Rafael shot me a perceptive look and sat up, leaning his arms on his knees. “Maybe because the angel you love cares about Aaru? With Uri out of the picture indefinitely, I’m the only progressive on the Council. It’s you and me, babe.”
Gregory was progressive — sometimes. Sometimes not. Two against four wasn’t a majority. Even if Gregory did vote our way, it would just deadlock the issue. I still didn’t see what I was supposed to do about any of this. Or why I should care. Yeah, I wanted Gregory to have his beloved homeland, but he surely didn’t need an imp’s help on that front.
“Don’t you want demons and angels to be able to form partnerships, to join, perhaps even to breed? You have a voice on the Council — don’t you want to have an equal say in matters here with the humans, and in Aaru?”
I didn’t give a shit about matters in Aaru, or here with the humans. Or did I? Dropping the shopping bags on the flagstone patio, I plopped into the lounge chair next to Rafi. It drove me nuts how the angels hovered over the humans, watching for any slip in their collective vibration level, any backsliding in their evolution. I hated their constant obsession with Ne
philim, their heavy–handed treatment of the werewolves. I did want a say in those things, even with my already–overloaded schedule. And demons joining with angels? A thrill ran through me remembering the sensations I felt just being next to Gregory. Leethu had begged for an angel of her own — how many others would want the same?
Plus I saw us with clear eyes now. The rigid stagnation of Aaru, the devolving and brutal state of Hel — this would be good for all of us. But in spite of being the Iblis, I was still only an imp. And two, possibly three, on the Ruling Council weren’t enough to enact the kind of dramatic change Rafi was proposing — even if some factions wanted it.
Rafael got to his feet, sunglasses appearing in his hand with a snap. “Think about what I’ve said. Let me know if you have any ideas. I may be an Angel of Order, but I’m eager for some chaos in Aaru.”
With a flourish, he put on the mirrored shades and vanished, leaving me sitting on a slightly damp lounge chair with an armful of shopping bags beside me. Ideas? Like the dating game for demons and angels? I had a vision of that television show The Bachelor, only for beings of spirit. Who would Gabriel present the rose to? Leethu? Dar? One of the Low in my household? I laughed just thinking about that staid angel wooing a demon and scooped up my bags to head inside.
Harper was in the kitchen, chatting away with Nyalla as they cut vegetables. The smell coming from the stove was amazing, and I sniffed appreciatively. Nyalla’s cooking skills tended toward re–heated leftovers and microwaved eggs. Clearly, Harper was feeling more at home and less the angry psycho she’d seemed when she first walked through my door. Or not. As I walked in, the woman fell immediately silent and tensed, her grip on the knife alarmingly firm.
“Oh, did you pick up some things for Harper?” Nyalla put her knife down and took the plastic bags from my hand. “I’ll run these up to her room.”
“No. I will.”
Either my new guest didn’t want Nyalla in her room, or she was unwilling to be in the kitchen alone with me. I was betting on the latter. Harper took the bags from Nyalla with a tense smile, knife clutched tight in her other hand. I edged out of her way and watched her walk up the steps, thinking that the knife was probably going to stay in her room, under the pillow. This woman was dangerous. I had no idea whether she planned on sticking me with that piece of cutlery, or was preparing for the angel’s return visit. I hoped it was the angel.
