by Harley James
“Ms. Ashby?” At her nod, he frowned, his bushy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows like busy little mice, and tapped his pen against the notebook, looking from her to Spencer he was trying to solve the mysteries of the universe.
He pointed his pen at Spencer. “So…is this the guy you wanna put a restraining order on?”
“No, sir.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Sorry for the confusion. The man you’re looking for is Mr. Baalor, or Baal. One of those two names. He left the scene after his car blew up.” She turned to Spencer with a look that put him on guard. What the devil was up her sleeve now? “I’m sure Mr. Jameson can give you much more information about him.”
Oh, could he ever.
The question was, how much was prudent? “I’d like to help. What would you like to know?”
Officer Dixon raised one of his mousy brows. “Let’s start with the name. That’d be one Mr. Bail. As in, what he’ll need to get out of jail if he comes near Ms. Ashby again after her restraining order is approved?”
“No, B-A-A-L. Shorthand for what mankind has named Baal-zebub, or more commonly, Beelzebub. As in, the bringer of flies and pestilence. Commonly known to be one of the princes of Hell.” He sucked air in between his teeth, very theatrical-like. “Very powerful entity. Can make the skies grow dark. Can manipulate physical objects with his mind. Like say…locking doors.” He shot a remember-that look at Sydney. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Look it up in the Bible.”
Spencer’s smile widened in proportion to Sydney’s rapidly fading one. He held her stare. A wide-eyed gaze that hinted at fear, doubt, and more than a twinge of feral animal.
Well now. Looked like he finally had her attention.
The officer’s gaze stayed on Spencer even as his head turned slowly toward Sydney, his pen no longer jotting notes. “Oookay, then. Let’s move on to the explosion. What happened to the car?” Sydney acted like she didn’t even hear the question. “Hello?” Office Dixon rapped his pen on the notebook. “Come on, lady, he got you under some kind of spell or something?”
Sydney blinked at Spencer for another moment before turning back to the officer. “I saw it explode, but I can’t tell you what happened. I’m sure I could diagnose the problem if you want to leave the vehicle here at the shop. I’m a mechanic, and I own the place. This place.” She took her hands off her purse strap and pointed to the large black sign that was riddled with metallic shrapnel. “Ah…Torque.”
Officer Dixon pursed his lips, gave Spencer the eagle eye, and then released them to go about their business.
Sydney shook her head and called out after him. “Are you sure that’s all you need? Mr. Jameson seems to know the suspect quite well.”
“It appears he doesn’t find me a reliable witness,” Spencer said mildly.
She turned a ferocious glare on him. “I wonder why!”
Dixon instructed another officer to finish sweeping the area for God knew what, then he looked back at Sydney. “I have your number if I have questions later.”
As the officer walked away, Spencer rubbed his hand over his chest. Did she believe him now, or not?
“Do you—”
“Would you like a drink?” Her nervous laughter stopped when he edged closer. She backed up, ramming into Torque’s bar-height reception desk. “I’m not usually one to numb my stress with alcohol, but right now, I need some whiskey.”
She skirted around the counter and hurried up the stairs without waiting to see if he’d follow.
The upper office space was her perfect reflection. Edgy and bold with intriguing feminine touches. Black curtains, modern art in squiggly turquoise strokes, gray slate floors topped with black leather furniture, and a sinuous, sea-blue sculpture that seemed to melt into the low-profile, glass cocktail table.
Neither spoke while she laid her purse on her desk and poured two whiskeys from a small bar cart. In short order, she refilled their empty glasses. He took another large swallow, then set the drink down to shuck his suit coat.
“I need to call Lee about the lease,” she said in the quiet without meeting his eyes. “Then we talk.”
When she turned away to place the call, he wandered about the space, picking up pieces of her conversation while he telepathically reached out to Pepper to arrange protection for the Ashbys until he could get them relocated.
Sydney was offering to meet Lee halfway in the lease agreement for fifteen thousand without the hassle of going through a legal battle. With his enhanced hearing, Spencer heard Lee agree.
That would definitely provoke Baal.
Sydney ended the call and put her phone back in her purse. “This place is nicer than my home. I can’t believe I spent the money to set it up like this.” She looked around as though seeing it for the first time. “I wish now I hadn’t.” Her voice faded, and she finished her second whiskey.
“Don’t apologize for beauty or feel guilty about your success. Reinvesting in your business is wise, but you also need balance to enjoy the finer things in life, or else what is the point of working so hard?”
He waited, holding back all he longed to say, while she contemplated his words. Her breath slowed, her cheeks flushed. Oh, the magic of alcohol. His blood flowed louder in his ears.
Blood flow increased in other areas as well.
“I don’t know why I let you in. Are you a stalker? Ack, don’t answer that. It’s not like you’d admit it.”
“I have never pursued an unwilling woman.”
“That much I believe.” She set her empty glass on the desk and made her way over to the black sofa, sinking down, pulling a turquoise velvet pillow into her lap. “I can’t imagine you’ve ever met an unwilling woman.”
He smiled slowly, tracing the curve of her neck with his gaze as she leaned her head back against the sofa. Next came the gentle swell of her breasts, then the flat expanse of her belly before her curves flared out in denim-clad hips that inspired a litany of carnal thoughts.
She was bloody spectacular.
He shifted, uncomfortable in his trousers. “Whatever you might imagine, I do not engage in a revolving door of casual sexual encounters.”
She sighed, slipping further into tranquility. Her skin was nearly flawless in the golden light of the space. He walked to the sofa and sat down beside her. His shoulders eased when she didn’t recoil.
She lifted her head to look at him. “I love to hear you speak. Isn’t that shallow? I should be pressing you for answers, but I’m too afraid to ask you to be completely honest with me.”
Honesty. Now that was heady stuff because it was such a rare commodity. Much more potent than alcohol. Proceed with care. “You no longer believe I’m involved with the mob?”
“Mobsters can’t deflect flying shrapnel with their hands.” She picked up his palms, turning them this way and that. “That’s what you were doing, weren’t you?”
He threaded their fingers together. Her breath hitched, igniting a slow burn in his blood. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you and your family out of harm’s way.”
“Harm’s way meaning…a demon?” she breathed.
He wasn’t sure she was even aware of what she was asking after two whiskeys in such short order, but…
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Yes.” He held his breath, wondering if hope was foolish.
She let go of his hand, wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, and squeezed. “How?”
He leaned forward slowly, his lips hovering just so above hers. The whiskey on her breath carried soft notes of wheat, rye, anise. He dove down into their nearness, his hands sliding up her thighs. “There has always been evil in the world. Sometimes it takes a more literal form.”
“Demons!” She jolted back from him, knocking her knees against the cocktail table when she shot unsteadily to her feet. Spencer grasped the glass sculpture before it could smash upon the tile. “What if he’s there?”
He knew what she meant. Baal, at her parents’ hou
se.
He pulled her back down before she tottered over. “Not to worry. I have associates guarding your family as we speak. I’ll relocate them, but I want to make sure I have your cooperation first. Do you understand?”
She looked at him like he was deranged. “Understand? How can I? You’re telling me there are demons that walk around looking like men. And what about you? Wait, I gotta call my mom!” He caught the panic in her eyes as she lurched from the sofa again to pull her phone from her purse. “Need to make sure they’re okay.” She was so agitated she miscoded her phone password twice.
She called while he waited.
When she disconnected, she turned around, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. “Mom said there are at least five vehicles parked in front of the house.”
“My cavalry, at your service.”
“Well, thanks?” She ran her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “Can you and your team really protect us from demons?”
“We can, and we will. Now, please call her back and tell her a woman named Pepper Jackson will arrange for their temporary relocation due to a government sting.”
“I can’t lie to my family!”
He raised an eyebrow. “You want to try the truth instead?”
She bit her lip. “How long do they have to live that way?”
“I’m hoping to have Baal brought to justice before Winter Solstice. So, three weeks is my best guess, though promises have never been my forte.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.” She walked to the window. “What does he want?”
“Baal? What all demons want. To cause suffering, pain, loss. To hurt me because we are enemies on opposite sides of the oldest dichotomy ever created.”
“Hurt you by hurting me? I don’t understand. How did I even get caught up in this?”
He couldn’t tell her about amplio. At least not yet. One mind-boggling detail at a time. “You have…a weapon of mine.”
She plopped down in the chair behind her desk. “What? How could I? Don’t you think that’s something I would know?”
“It’s not a weapon in the traditional sense. You found a feather at Baker Beach, did you not?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, but it’s just a feather.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. It’s an angel feather, suffused with exceptional power.”
She shook her head, pressing her palms to her temples. “This can’t be real. I must be drunk.”
Spencer pointed out the window where she’d been standing. “The chunks of metal in your company sign say otherwise.”
Sydney dropped her head between her legs, breathing fast. Spencer rose from the sofa to kneel at her side. He rubbed her back, murmuring to her in a way that was at once foreign and completely natural.
He wasn’t the nurturing type. He’d never seen it modeled growing up. His mother showed her softer side by forcing him to watch her fuck the hungry, young village laborers who were given a few pence and a full belly for their lascivious services.
He smoothed the hair back from Sydney’s cheeks, wishing he knew what to do to make her feel better. All these special powers and not one of them to ease a lady’s distress.
After a time, her elbows shifted to rest on her knees, her breath slowing. She turned her head to rest her temple against her palm, looking him straight in the eye. “What are you?”
Here it was then.
Should he risk himself? Now, of all times, when he was looking to simplify his life. When he was about to turn over his relic. When he was ready for whatever came next. Probably Hell.
Did he actually want an honest connection with someone after all these years?
Honesty meant vulnerability, and he’d been weak his entire human life.
Still, something in her eyes. An openness and desire to know more about him. It was seductive. But could she handle the truth?
Maybe it didn’t matter one way or another. The amplio would eventually wear off and their connection would wane.
Spencer took a measured breath. “I am a Guardian brought into being by the Archangel Michael at the bequest of the Creator. I was once a selfish man who lived for nothing or no one but himself. Then I was offered a chance at redemption in exchange for protecting humanity from rogue demons until the End Days.”
The white, antiqued clock on the east wall ticked off several seconds of silence. A siren clamored in the distance, the shrill tones fading until it was only the tick-tock-ticking of the clock once more.
She blinked, but said nothing.
A strange stillness pervaded him. So many events were derailing his plan to relinquish his relic, but here in this moment was a peace in being able to reveal himself. To shed the secrecy. To finally live the truth of what he was.
By God, that was cheesy.
Carry on.
He brushed her hair back from her cheek. “How can I show you that you can trust me?”
She swallowed, sitting back in the chair. “If you really work for Team God, summon the angel the feather belongs to.”
Chapter 15
Spencer smiled. It was a brilliant request, really. He would regret losing the weapon, but it would be worth winning Sydney over. “She will want it back for safe-keeping. Do you have it here?”
Sydney nodded, pushing out of the chair to grab her purse. She pulled out an elongated, bracelet-style jewelry box. She cracked the lid and extracted the iridescent feather. “This belongs to a she?”
He nodded and sent out the request to Jessie, explaining the situation and asking—okay, begging—for her help to convince Sydney he was one of the ‘good guys.’ In return, he’d return her missing feather.
Jessie appeared in the room in moments, garbed in black leather pants, a black turtleneck sweater, and her downy white wings spread in full splendor.
Sydney back-pedaled into the sofa, sinking down with a gasp, her hands covering her mouth, the feather sticking out between her fingers.
“Ah, there it is.” Jessie beamed at Sydney, her soft, resonant voice like a sea breeze sighing through heavy palm fronds. “Thank you for keeping it in such good condition.” She laid a hand over her heart. “I’m Jessie. I know this is a shock, but I promise, you get used to it eventually. I used to be human, too. Now, I’m…” She looked to the left and right at her wings, “well, I guess you could say transformed. I battle evil with Spencer and the other Guardians.” She sent a wink his way.
Oh, she was good at this human interaction thing. He inclined his head at Jessie slightly. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Uh, h-here.” Sydney’s arm shook a little as she held the feather out for Jessie.
Jessie took it, leaned down to slide it between the feathers near the bottom sweep of her left wing, and then folded them away. She turned to Spencer. “Jaws said Alexios has been in contact, but he wouldn’t say where he was or when he’d return.” Jawahar Bajwa was Alexios’s head of security at Rapture in Tampa, Florida. “If you need anything, Nate and I are just a thought away.”
Spencer stood and bowed over her hand. “I am in your debt.”
“She’s shell-shocked. Go easy on her,” Jessie replied.
“I will. She is…special.”
Jessie smiled. “She must be. It’s good for you to have a new purpose. Stay in the fight. We need you, Spencer.”
When Jessie disappeared, he sat next to Sydney on the sofa, laying his arm atop the back rest, grateful she hadn’t passed out or run screaming from the room.
“Will you call your family now?” he asked, quietly. Sydney swiveled to face him, but he couldn’t read her expression. His pulse kicked up. “I’d like to settle them somewhere we’re more prepared to protect them.”
She exhaled and shivered as though coming awake after a long slumber. “I would’ve never imagined.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” he whispered.
She nodded, the vulnerability in her eyes calling to something old and protective in him.
“I’ll h
ave a lot of questions about this once my brain catches up.” She went to her phone and placed a second, more difficult call to her family. To ask them to trust strangers. To uproot their lives for reasons that couldn’t be shared.
Dusk was falling in the city. Would she see monsters everywhere now?
He listened to her persuasive arguments to her mother, then her father, puzzled by the strange twist of fate that had brought him to this place. Brought him to this woman, so strong, loyal, hard-working, and independent. So determined to make her own way in a world that idolized luxury and the path of least resistance.
She hung up again and hugged her phone to her chest, her captivating blue eyes…vehement…which was a polite way of saying murderous. “If anything happens to them, I will find a way to end you in this life or the next.”
He didn’t doubt it. It made him like her even more, if he was being honest.
He’d built so much of his long existence on lies. Moving through life on fabrications, omissions, deception. Sydney deserved honesty, and so much more.
He nodded, spreading his arms wide. “I won’t even defend myself against your righteous, homicidal fury should the worst befall us. But truly, you have no reason to fear, for I am formidable.”
“And don’t forget humble,” she mumbled, returning her phone to her purse.
He smiled and loosened his tie, then slipped it from his neck. “I’ve sent word to Pepper to take your family into protective custody.” He patted the sofa beside him. “Come. We will combat your worry by addressing some of your questions. I’m sure you’re feeling jargogled.”
He’d parcel out the information in doses. He couldn’t touch her, though. Otherwise, he’d want to do more than talk.
So much more.
Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “‘Sent word’? As in, with your mind?”
“Yes. Pepper is human, but a psychic with astral projection gifts. She is able to access the telepathic frequency all Guardians use.”
