by Debra Dunbar
He was hovering over me and breathing heavy, like he’d run around the building a few times, although I think it was more trying to control himself and keep from killing me. I helped him by continuing to sit on the dirty floor looking up at him. I really wanted to get up and punch him, but my minimal self preservation had finally kicked in.
Grabbing at my arm with the fixed shoulder, he hauled me to my feet and held me a few inches off the ground. “I won’t lose you,” he muttered half to himself. “You will not slip through my grasp. You will not escape me.”
I could see him struggle to gain control when, almost as if with a will of its own, he hissed, “Mine.”
It was quiet, but the word pulsed with power. Certain words are more than just words. Certain words can carry the strength of all creation. This was one. I used it when I Owned a being, I used it when I claimed territory, when I created a household bond. I had never used it with such power behind it, though. I felt it slam into me and wondered what he’d meant. In what way had he claimed me?
He managed to finally get control of himself and took a big breath. “I really don’t want to have to bind you to me. It would hurt a lot and be very unpleasant.”
I appreciated his concern for my comfort.
“No,” he said, seemingly reading my thoughts. “It would hurt me a lot, and be very unpleasant for me. Pain to you would only bring me great joy.”
Well, then. “Look, this was all a misunderstanding. See? I’m right here, drying my clothes. I didn’t run away. I didn’t try to escape your clutches. If you let me go, I’ll just pull the shirt out of the dryer and we’ll be on our way. Candy and Wyatt should be here any moment and we can head out. You’re really scary, and I’m going to do whatever you say.” Okay, maybe the last bit was over the top, but I really wanted him to relax and give me enough slack on the leash to slip my collar and bolt.
He looked suspicious, but he did let go of my arm. I grabbed the shirt, and with an angel trailing behind me I went to the hotel room and gathered our things. We went down to the lobby to wait for Candy and Wyatt. What was taking them so long? Did they stop for pizza? Did Wyatt take off on a joy ride with my car? I fretted over the safety of my car. Wyatt might be my best friend, but I’d kill him if he dented my precious car.
We remained in the lobby, air thick with tension, surrounded by the shopping bags. Gregory sat in the little plastic chair placidly ignoring the young girl at the front desk. Probably the owner’s daughter, I thought watching her stare enraptured at the angel. I could have stripped naked and done a pole dance with the gumball machine and she wouldn’t have broken her gaze. Maybe if she jumped him in an adoring frenzy I’d be able to make a quick getaway.
Candy and Wyatt pulled up and I inspected my car thoroughly for damage. Wyatt looked me over for damage, too.
“Are you okay, Sam?” he whispered. “What can I do to help? You’ve got to get away from him.”
No shit, Sherlock. I had no idea what he could do to help, but I was formulating a plan.
“Just hang tight with Candy,” I told him. “Don’t antagonize him. I don’t want him to kill you.”
I was treated to the joy of watching Gregory cram himself into my passenger seat. Corvettes may be sports cars, but they are American sports cars, made for big oversized Americans. Still Gregory took up more than his allocated share of space. I’m assuming he had to buy two seats when he flew commercial. I took the lead and we headed out of town with Gregory silent and brooding beside me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me with hostility. Was he still pissed about the dryer episode? Or just pissed in general about my existence?
Gregory’s leg was encroaching on the stick shift and I kept grabbing it instead of the shifting lever. It happened a lot, and I swear I was not doing it on purpose. It was like grabbing a block of cement. Still, I couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.
I wondered if I could snake my hand up further and get in a quick grope before he removed my arm from my body. I wondered what angel genitals felt like. Did they even have genitals? Maybe they were anatomically like Ken dolls. I hadn’t noticed any bulges, even while I was pressed against him through the gate, but I didn’t think I was his idea of a potential sexual partner. The thought of sex with me probably left him cold and flaccid. Actually, the thought of sex with me probably hadn’t even crossed his mind. Angels probably did it in some ethereal way that didn’t involve genitals. Some kind of sterile, esoteric sexual experience. I imagine it was horribly boring. Maybe I could convince him to do it the human way. Or the demon way. I fantasized for a moment about a threesome with the angel and Wyatt. Like that would ever happen. This was not a good train of thought for me to be having.
“How did you manage to survive Wyatt shooting you in the head? That would probably have killed me, but you hardly moved. You didn’t even bleed.” I was curious, and I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter.
He gave me a disgusted look. “You are too imbedded in your physical form, almost like a human. If you hold yourself apart more, these things couldn’t affect you. Of course, I wouldn’t expect a demon to have the self discipline to do that sort of thing.”
Jerk. “Ah, so that’s why your form sucks so bad, then. I thought maybe you just weren’t skilled enough to create and hold a decent physical form. I wouldn’t expect an angel to have the aptitude for that sort of thing.”
He glared. “For someone so close to death, you are surprisingly insubordinate.”
Yikes. I needed a distraction before I got myself even further into trouble, so I turned on the radio. It may sound weird, but I’m a sucker for 1970’s–era love songs, so that’s what I put on. I bopped along to Temptation Eyes, then heard familiar opening notes.
“Oh, I love this one,” I announced.
Samantha Martin, the human Samantha Martin had a nice set of pipes. She was in church choir when she was young, and was a darned good amateur singer before I Owned her. If they’d have had American Idol back then, she would have at least made it on the show. I Owned an opera singer too, but that skill didn’t come up much. I sing whenever I get a chance. In the shower, in the car, karaoke in bars. Sometimes I just sing randomly because it freaks people out. So it was nothing for me to perform car karaoke right now. Even with an angry, pouty, potentially violent angel sitting beside me.
I squealed as a familiar song came on. It was “Just Remember I love You” by Firefall. I loved this song. Mushy, sentimental, perfect for serenading an angel. I grinned at Gregory and he looked back at me, a combination of amazement and anxiety on his face. He looked like I’d just sprouted two heads and scales. Of course, that he’d probably seen before.
I sang along, belting out the chorus before turning my eyes back to the road. Gregory scooted a little away from me, a look of near terror on his face. It’s not like he could scoot far, though. He was supersized and my car was too small for distance.
The station was really on a roll. I continued to serenade him with “Band of Gold” and “Don’t Pull Your Love Out On Me Baby” but turned the channel when they played “Jackie Blue”. I never liked that song.
“I had you pegged for a Slayer fan, cockroach,” he commented in a strangled voice, as if the whole experience was more than he could handle.
“Slayer? I can’t understand a damned word they are singing. It’s all ’bwaa, rhaa, whaa, grrr, grrr, grr’. What the fuck does that mean? I’d rather listen to harpies wail than that shit.”
He nodded his head in agreement and I’d swear I saw his lips twitch. No way he could actually be amused. At least I’d managed to put him in a less hostile mood with my unusual music tastes. Good thing as we pulled out of town and onto Route 15 south. I glanced at Wyatt and Candy behind me in the rear view and put the pedal to the metal. In a roar, I had dusted them.
The highway was two lanes each way with a decent shoulder all the way into Montgomery County, Maryland. This time of day the cars were evenly spaced with a good bit of commerc
ial truck travel along the route. I weaved in and out of traffic, honking rudely, darting around cars, cutting off the semis and passing on the shoulder. Today, I wished that I’d bought the red model Corvette instead.
I was glad Gregory didn’t know anything about roads, or he would have wondered why I didn’t take the shorter way down 116. Wyatt was probably in Candy’s car looking at his GPS and bitching and moaning about the extra distance of my chosen route. Route 116 was shorter, much prettier, and there was not much traffic. This way would take us on the busy highway back tracking down into Maryland, then through Emmitsburg to loop back into Pennsylvania on Route 16. I looked over at the angel to see if his improved mood had survived our increase in speed.
“Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road?” Gregory asked me. He didn’t look pissed. He probably thought I was trying to shake him up with my crazy driving. I wondered if he had ever been in a car before. Probably not, if he could gate everywhere. I doubted he’d ever driven, either. That would make him an auto virgin. I laughed out loud at the idea.
“You know, you can’t kill me by wrecking your car,” he commented in that bored voice. “You’ll just destroy your vehicle. I won’t suffer more than a scratch. Won’t slow me down at all. You’re not going to get away from me so you might as well drive like a normal person.” He actually leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as if my erratic driving methods were putting him to sleep.
I continued to drive like a possessed maniac. Stupidly, it took nearly five miles before I saw the flashing lights behind me. Good thing as we were almost at the Maryland border. I kept driving a bit, weaving aggressively but trying to keep the speed down so I didn’t lose the state trooper struggling to keep up. Finally, I pulled over into an old abandoned gas station, spinning out dramatically with a rooster tail of gravel dust.
“Looks like I’m going to get a ticket,” I said. Gregory frowned at me with narrowed, suspicious dark eyes. “I was speeding, you know. Happens to me all the time. It will only take a minute and we’ll be on our way.”
The Pennsylvania state police car behind us was a big white sedan. A huge Crown Victoria with the trooper badging all over and the light rack on top. It was a stupid car. If I were a state trooper, I’d make them get me a Ferrari.
The guy behind the wheel took his time getting out. I wondered what in the hell was taking him so long. Did he have to fill out fifteen pages of reports before he even got out of his car? Finally, he opened the door and slid out. He was a young guy. Thin and fit in his grey shirt and dark grey pants. He wore short sleeves in the heat, and the shirt had black fringed thingies on the shoulders. He had a hat on with a chin strap, and I could tell his hair was a short buzz cut underneath. I couldn’t really see if he was cute or not, but he had a good body, and looked damned sweet in that uniform.
The cop walked up carefully from the rear of the car, flicking the leather strap on his pistol holster for easy access. He also had a baton, and some pepper spray handy and ready. The baton wasn’t a big deal, but I hoped he didn’t spray me with the pepper spray. I hate that shit. I unwound the window before he got there, and just as he leaned in, I pulled out my mean and threw it at him while simultaneously pulling the pistol from my waistband and laying it on my lap. I put every bit of menace I had into my voice and announced that he was a fucking pig and I was going to knock him on his ass.
It had the desired effect. The cop leapt back from the car and pointed his pistol at my head screaming “Out of the car! Out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them.” I looked curiously at his gun, but didn’t recognize it. I was hardly the expert from seeing Wyatt’s small collection, but thought maybe I could recognize the caliber. The trooper waved his gun at me, again indicating that I needed to get out right now. Or presumably he would shoot me.
I smiled smugly at Gregory and he glared back at me in open hatred. Carefully, I opened the car door, letting the gun drop to the floor of the car while keeping my hands raised. Gregory got out too, and I realized he was doing something to try and soothe the officer and me. He was talking to the police guy in a low calm rumble and I swear I actually saw the deep blue wash over us both. It pulled and tugged on me with warm persistence, and I wanted to leave the cop alone and get back in the car. I wanted to rub myself on Gregory like a cat and have him look at me approvingly. Fuck no, I didn’t want to do any of that shit. No fucking way. I shrugged off the urge and glared at the officer again. The cop looked confused and began to lower his gun.
“You fucking pig,” I snarled at him, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’ve killed cops before and I’ll kill you too. I’ll blow your fucking head off.” I took a few steps toward him.
Gregory redoubled his efforts and the air was thick and sweet with blue. I saw the officer shake a bit, sweat rolling down his forehead. The poor guy would be in therapy for years from this. Fuck, I’d probably be in therapy for years from this. The urge to kneel down at the angel’s feet and wrap myself around him was nearly overwhelming.
The cop was slipping from my grasp though and I knew I needed to go all out. I walked up to the officer and slugged him right in the jaw. Not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to override all the calming blue shit. It worked. The guy grabbed me and slammed me face first against my car, yanking my arms behind me to cuff me. In a few moments, I’d be on my way to the police station. I could kill the cop, ditch his car, and be on my way to a gate while Gregory cooled his heels at some local station waiting for me to make bail.
The angel kept pressing his calming influence to no avail. The cuffs were on, and I was halfway to the police car, when Gregory threw up his hands, reached out and grabbed the cop. I felt him let me go and turned to see the angel whispering in his ear. In an instant he had slumped and Gregory held him upright, moving to put him back in his car. I quickly broke the cuffs, and bolted. Plan B.
I like to run. I’m not fast off the block, but I can go forever and keep a strong steady pace. The angel was a huge hulk of muscle. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to keep up and I’d somehow lose him. He couldn’t find me to gate to me if I kept my energy to myself.
Unfortunately, I only made it about twenty feet before he tackled me from behind. I smacked into the gravel and slid across it with his considerable weight on top, scraping a good layer of skin off my face and body, and knocking the breath out of me. For good measure, he flipped me over on my back and punched me in my stomach.
Looking up at him, gasping for breath, I realized that he’d totally lost control. His face was white and solid looking without pores in the skin, and blackness filled the entirety of his eyes. His teeth were no longer human, but sharp pointed little spikes, like piranha teeth. He actually glowed. Seriously glowed. He was so bright it burned my eyes. There was nothing in him but rage. Not a speck of feeling I could appeal to. Nothing but fury and hate. I grabbed my energy and prepared to empty the whole lot at him. It would probably blow a chunk out of the lower half of the state, but I might as well kill him along with myself. Better than me dying alone.
His eyes widened with the realization of what I was about to do, and he smacked me hard across the face before I could even begin to form the blast. The blow knocked my head sideways and caused my grasp to slip a little. Enough of a slip for him to coat that silicone stuff over my energy again.
“Oh no you don’t, cockroach,” he hissed at me through those pointy teeth. “Hold still,” he commanded, grabbing my arms by the wrists and thrusting them up above my head.
Oh, sure. ’Hold still while I kill you.’ Like that was going to happen. I wasn’t sure if he was going to execute me straight away or beat the crap out of me first, but I figured it was going to be excruciating either way. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I thrashed around with all my strength to see if I could budge him loose from on top of me. I even tried to knee him in the groin, assuming that would do anything. Wrenching one hand loose I flung a handful of gravel and dirt into his face. He shook his head
and grabbed, unsuccessfully trying to secure my loose hand while at the same time attempting to pin my legs down with his. I bucked like a wild bull and smacked him with the little bits of energy that I could form. It was all I could manage to break free from the slippery shell he held in place around my energy.
After a few minutes of this, he hissed in frustration, grabbed me roughly around my waist and flung me over his shoulder. My breath whooshed out as my diaphragm smashed against his shoulder and my head bounced on the concrete of his back. While I frantically tried to recover, he began striding off toward the abandoned gas station and my car. Gasping little breaths, I squirmed, kicked and hit and scratched with all my might. Unaffected, he continued on, tightening his grip painfully around my waist to make sure I didn’t manage to wiggle free. Wyatt and Candy were far behind us, not that they could intervene at this point. My mind worked furiously trying to find some way to break his hold, to get enough energy to knock him aside, to do anything, for surely I was going to die real soon. I’d tire physically, and without the use of my energy he had all the advantage.
Suddenly, he shrugged me off his shoulder and slammed my back against the cement block side of the building. My head spun again and I felt the warmth of blood sliding down the back of my skull and onto my neck. Without allowing me even a second to move, he pressed himself against me, crushing me between his body and the gritty, pebbled concrete wall. I felt the stone embed itself into the torn flesh of my head and ground my teeth with the pain. At this rate, I’d be a shredded bloody mess by the time he finished me off.
Slowly and carefully he transferred my wrists to one hand, yanking them above my head and pinning them to the wall. With his other hand, he maneuvered my hips, straddling me and pinching my legs between his own. Within seconds, I was held immobile between him and the building. The only thing still free was my head, so I tried to head butt him and bite whatever part of his face came within range. He was a good foot taller than me, so the best I could do was a light tap on his chest with my forehead before he grabbed my jaw with his free hand and held my head still. At least he didn’t have a third hand to whip out his sword. Of course, he could always bring that item out after I was a bloody mess on the ground.
