Ascending Passion

by Amanda Pillar

  “Then if you won’t change your mind, take Yael.”

  “I don’t want Yael.”

  Somewhere inside, a tiny part of her screamed at the lie.

  He’s handsome. You’re allowed to find him attractive.

  But even that concession made soul-wrenching guilt flood through her. She didn’t want to feel anything for the guy.

  Rowan sighed. “If I refuse, you’ll send him anyway, won’t you?”

  Gran smiled, her face wrinkling into the familiar expression. “Got it in one, kiddo.”

  Luck had never been on her side.

  Chapter 7

  With one arm, Yael scooped the pile of clean clothing off his bed and into a suitcase. There. Packed.

  Easy.

  He had no idea why people went on about how difficult it was or why several weeks of planning was required.

  He brushed his hands together and congratulated himself on a job well done. Now, he had to decide which weapons and what kind of spells would be best to take with him.

  “Did you bother to put any toiletries in there?”

  The wry voice made him turn. He narrowed his eyes. Dru leaned against his door frame like she owned the whole fucking mansion.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I live here.” She flicked long, white-blonde hair over her shoulder and stepped into his room.

  He suppressed the low growl that rose up in his chest. “Unfortunately.”

  She blew him a kiss.

  How could Azrael stand her?

  Azrael, the toughest and coldest of them all.

  She went onto her tiptoes and peered at his suitcase, like she could divine its secrets from her vantage point. “So, did you?”

  “Did I what?” He grabbed the lid of the case and flipped it over his clothes. He didn’t want her going through his underwear. That was just creepy.

  She stared at him like he was a few bricks short of a wall. “Pack any toiletries?”

  “I don’t know.” Had there been any in the pile?

  “Then I recommend grabbing some before you zip that up. And maybe add an extra pair of boots.”

  He sighed. He hated it when she had a point. He walked over to the adjoining bathroom. “If you touch anything, I’ll kill you.”

  Yael reached for an empty toiletry bag and paused, staring at his hand—the one that had betrayed him yet again with the human girl, Rowan. He shook his head and grabbed the bag. So what, that his skin had tingled, his pulse had gone crazy and he’d even—embarrassingly—gotten semi-erect at touching the human’s palm? So what, that he’d never gotten that strong a physical response from any other woman he’d touched?

  Maybe it was because she was a witch.

  Maybe she’d put a spell on him.

  Remembering the grim determination in her gaze, he dismissed the idea. No. She wasn’t trying to make him fall in love with her. Even though she’d be silly not to want him.

  Don’t even go there.

  Distracted, he shoved the first things he could find into the toiletry bag. When he returned to his room, he caught Dru playing with one of his garrotes.

  “What the fuck did I just say?”

  “Eh, you’re all talk.” She placed the garrote on his suitcase. “Plus, we all know I’d kick your ass.”

  At least she’d returned the weapon. The last time she’d checked out one of his toys, he’d had to go hunt it down in her room. That had led to all kinds of awkward.

  She and Azrael need a better lock on their door.

  “Are you two fighting again?” Azrael asked as he stalked into the room. The fallen angel was dressed to kill: black cargo pants filled with weapons and gadgets, a black T-shirt over which sat two holsters, and knives strapped to his arms and legs. His long dark hair had been done up in some kind of hippy bun.

  Yael threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, everyone come in. Let’s have a fucking party.”

  “I didn’t bring any alcohol,” Dru pouted.

  The cambion was fucking insane. That was the only explanation. Maybe being half-human made her crazy? After all, humans and demons weren’t meant to interbreed. When they did, well, you got oddities like the she-demon currently tormenting him.

  Yael shoved his toiletries into his suitcase and then pocketed the garotte, before Dru could turn all magpie and steal it again. “So why are you two here?”

  “We heard you have to do bodyguard duty,” Azrael said.

  “We can do it, if you don’t want to,” Dru added.

  “What we mean,” Azrael shot his lover a look, “is that we may be better suited to the job.”

  Why was everyone so keen to absolve him of any responsibility? Did something about him scream ‘shirker’?

  “I said I’d do it. And it’s close protection officer, C.P.O. Not bodyguard.”

  “Of course,” Azrael said. “But it’ll be easier with a team of two.”

  “Plus, you’re all…” Dru waved her hand.

  Yael frowned. “You just pointed at all of me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Yael crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re not exactly, uh, friendly.” Dru nodded to herself, as if she’d managed to say something that wasn’t offensive.

  “I am, too. Super-nice. Everyone likes me.”

  Azrael withdrew a knife and flicked it in the air. “You’ve threatened to kill Dru how many times today?”

  “Only once.”

  The other fallen angel nodded. “Precisely.”

  Yael rolled his eyes. “But I am not guarding Dru.”

  “Pfft. Like you will be any better with a human.” Dru snatched Azrael’s blade out the air.

  Lucky I put the garrote away.

  “I will be fine.” Yael could see they wanted to protest. He held up a hand. “Plus, if I need any help, I’ll ask you guys.”

  That seemed to mollify them.

  I totally won’t ask them.

  “Well, we’re always happy to help. As long as you know you don’t have to do it alone.” Azrael withdrew another dagger, seeming to realize Dru wasn’t going to give the first one back.

  “Plus, don’t you guys have an Egyptian chaos god after you?” Yael zipped up his luggage. “Not exactly good business to have an angry deity chasing you.”

  “Eh, Set is a pain in the ass, but he’s still recovering from the whole decapitation thing.” Dru paused in her knife twirling. “Which you did by the way. Dunno why he swore vengeance on just us.”

  “Maybe because he saw you two and didn’t see me. I was behind him, after all.”

  Dru sniggered. “Did him from behind.”

  “Talk about the mind of a fifteen-year-old—”

  “If you’re all quite done here?” Raze’s deep voice boomed into the room. “I need to have a quick word with Yael.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Dru saluted Raze, which earned her a small smile from the dark-skinned angel, then disappeared into the hall. Azrael clapped Yael on the shoulder then followed his lover.

  “You needed to see me?” Yael leaned back against the bed.

  “Thought you could do with a break.”

  “Hah.”

  But it wasn’t just that. Raze didn’t invade people’s bedrooms to save them from unwanted packing advice.

  “I heard that Seraphina organized for you to repay Z’s favor.”

  And there it was.

  “Yep.” Yael waited for the whole ‘You don’t have to do it, I will’ spiel.

  “Thank you.” Raze ran a hand over his dark hair. “She would have come to me next, and I don’t tend to blend in well with humans.”

  “Come on now…”

  But there had been no lie in Raze’s words. He honestly believed that.

  “I can deal with them for financial reasons, but beyond that, they start to sense there is something different about me.” Of all of them, Raze w
as the least able to pass for a human. It wasn’t his appearance, it was him. The vibe he gave.

  “We’re good. But I may need your help.”

  “My help?” Surprise widened Raze’s eyes.

  What? Was Yael such a loner that everyone was shocked when he said he needed assistance?

  You know the answer to that.

  Yes, fine. He didn’t play well with others.

  Everyone knew that, apparently.

  Yael placed an arm around Raze’s shoulder and steered him from the room. The other angel’s bulk was a solid—and calm—warmth by his side. “Can you tell me more about conduits?”

  Maybe it was Rowan’s magical nature that he’d reacted to so strongly. Angels might be more susceptible to it.

  “The electrical or witch kind?” Raze asked, serious.

  He would have laughed, but Raze had been a scholar before a being warrior, and probably knew a lot about both. It was no doubt a valid question in his mind.

  “Witch.”

  “Well, back in 1206 BC, Argemones the Clear stated that true conduits were only born once every four hundred years—”

  “Wait. There’s false and true conduits?”

  “There’s conduits and conduits. One can store magic and pass it on to others in need. The other is someone who can channel energy from the universe itself.”

  Yael whistled.

  Now, if Rowan was the latter kind of conduit, it was no wonder Lucifer was interested in her.

  I just have to work out which one she is…

  *

  Later that afternoon, Yael was back at the Cat on a Broomstick. This time, though, he was in the front of the shop, with a diffuser wafting out a strong floral scent next to his elbow. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. He wondered if Theodora be annoyed if he ‘accidently’ knocked it over.

  “Here they are.” She shoved a packet of papers at Yael, who grabbed them out of reflex, thoughts of vandalism abating.

  “Here what are?” He opened the yellow envelope.

  “Your passport, visa, plane tickets, and permits.”

  He flipped open the passport’s dark-blue cover and scowled. He was handsome, like, super good-looking. How the Hell had the Crone managed to find the single unflattering photo of him in existence? Then he read the name she’d given him.

  “Yael Death?”

  She shoved at his shoulder, as if trying to push him through the shop. “It’s pronounced Deeth, as in teeth.”

  “People are going to think it’s death.”

  “It’s a very common name. You’ll be fine.”

  Her shoves became more insistent. “Why are you pushing me?”

  “You need to get to the airport.”

  “The airport? Why?” He craned his neck around to see her.

  “Rowan is catching an early flight. Thought she could fool me, but I’m onto her.”

  “I’ll just meet her in Egypt.”

  “Nope. Your protection starts now.”

  “I am not catching a plane.” He dug his heels into the hardwood floor of the shop. He used to be able to fly. Climbing into a tin can and sailing through the skies was an insult.

  The shoving stopped. Theodora walked around to stand in front of him, leaning on her cane. “You said you’d do the favor. Well, the favor starts now. What if someone were to sabotage the plane?”

  “I don’t have wings anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  She whacked him in the shin with her walking stick. It hurt. “Don’t get cheeky with me, boy. You have Devilsgate spells. Oh, and yes.” She reached into a hidden pocket in her dress. “Here.” She handed him a locket.

  “You’re giving me jewelry?” He opened it. Inside was a smooth spread of gunmetal-colored powder.

  “You wish. This is Clear Sight.”

  Both of his eyebrows rose. “There’s about twenty-thousand dollars’ worth here.”

  “I take the protection of my granddaughter very seriously. Don’t stuff this up.”

  He shoved the yellow envelope in his pocket and tucked the Clear Sight locket in his backpack.

  “Oh, and here.” She thrust a gym bag at him.

  “What’s this?”

  “A few other spells that might come in handy. I’ve also put a number of neutralizer charms in there—in case there are any curses in the tombs, or spells at the dig house.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed the handle. “If that’s all?”

  She jabbed him in the foot.

  “What’s with you and that cane?” He hopped on one leg for a few seconds, until the pain eased.

  “Don’t talk to your future grandmother like that. Now go.”

  He was striding for the door before her words registered. Spinning around, he clenched his fists. “You haven’t put a love spell on me, have you?”

  “Pfft. Tawdry nonsense. Now go.” She flapped her hands at him. “Oh wait, you’d better call me Dora.”

  Wondering if he’d just been played, but not sure exactly how it had gone down, he left the store and headed for the alley behind the shop. There was no time for a taxi.

  Throwing a pinch of glittering dust into the air, he whispered, “J.F.K., demon entrance.”

  Boy, some folks were sure going to be surprised to see him.

  Chapter 8

  “Rowan! Rowan!”

  He’s not really here…he can’t be…

  But a hand on her arm had her stopping sharply, making people in the airport lounge mutter as they had to slide around her. She shrugged off the contact before it made her whole body come alive in a tangle of sizzling nerves.

  She turned to face him. “You.”

  “Hello!” Yael gave her a casual wave and easy smile, as if they were just catching up. Like this had been pre-arranged, and she hadn’t been sneaking off. He adjusted the strap on his backpack and flicked a look around the place, as if already categorizing any threats.

  “What are you doing here?” She returned the smile, but it felt like a caricature. After all, she had been trying to get away without him. Damnit, Gran. Have you implanted a G.P.S. tracker on me? She wouldn’t put it past her over-protective grandparent.

  “Just catching a plane to Egypt. You?” Something dangerous glimmered in his eyes as they swept over her. She liked to travel in comfort on long-haul flights, not style, but she suddenly felt self-conscious in her sweatpants and sweater.

  “The same.”

  “Excellent. Shall we go?” He held a hand out to her side, and she started walking, if only to prevent that hand from coming into contact with her. She headed toward the lounge’s exit and into the terminal. Great. I have to spend almost eleven hours on a plane next to this oversized ass.

  That wasn’t fair. He was perfectly sized: over six feet of gloriously packed muscle.

  No. I didn’t think that.

  But she had. And what’s worse, she knew she’d think it again.

  What about Eric?

  Her libido, it appeared, worked completely autonomously from her mind—and her heart.

  “Okay. Which gate do we need to go to?” Yael peered down at his boarding pass like he’d never seen one before.

  Rowan fought the urge to point to the bold text, and instead just said, “Gate B32.”

  “Right.”

  She spotted a sign with an arrow indicating they should turn right. Leading the way, she ignored the shops and other commuters with single-minded focus. She hoped it would help her ignore Yael as well, but the whole left side of her body seemed to be overly sensitized by his presence.

  Ass.

  “Here we are.”

  Passengers were already boarding the flight. A tiny flurry of panic suffused her, before she realized there were at least ten more minutes until they closed the doors.

  Hurrying through to the first-class line, she grimaced when Yael joined her. How had he managed to get a ticket so quickly? She been told there were barely a handfu
l left when she’d booked.

  Luke had paid for her upgrade.

  Did Gran pay for Yael’s?

  It wasn’t like the family couldn’t afford it—Gran was loaded. And from what Gran had said at the funeral, so was Rowan.

  They reached the air hostess who was scanning boarding passes. She wore a dark-blue fitted uniform with a hat set at an ever-so-slight jaunty angle. As she held out her hand for their tickets, she surveyed Yael like he was a forbidden dessert. She barely even registered Rowan’s presence.

  I may as well be invisible.

  “Ms. Broome and Mr…Death?”

  Wait. His surname was Death?

  Forgetting her desire to avoid any and all contact, she leaned around Yael to peer at his boarding pass. Yep. There it was. Yael Death.

  What a surname. I mean, he sure seems like he could handle himself in a fight. But Death? Arrogant much?

  “It’s Deeth, not Death.”

  “Apologies Mr. Deeth.” The attendant gave him a megawatt smile that he returned, before collecting his pass.

  Rowan shoved him to get him walking.

  For some reason, the attendant’s stare annoyed her. You are not jealous. No. No, she totally wasn’t. She just didn’t like being ignored. Or being called ‘Ms.’ I am a doctor, damnit. I earned that qualification.

  It said Dr. on her boarding pass.

  They headed down the airbridge to the plane, and she boarded before him, leaving him behind while he tried to explain the correct pronunciation of his surname.

  As she stowed her hand luggage, a hostess waited patiently nearby with a complimentary glass of champagne. Rowan didn’t normally drink, but she had the feeling she might need one or two to get through the flight.

  Once seated, glass of champagne in hand, she leaned her head back against the rest with a sigh. She didn’t mind long-haul flights too much—they usually gave her time to catch up on work. But she didn’t have any at the moment. Oh sure, there was her paper, she could continue to work on that, but she didn’t think she’d be able to concentrate. And not just because of Yael’s presence somewhere on the plane.

  The paper had been an idea of Eric’s.

  “Here you go, Mr. Death.”

  No.

  But it was happening.

  “Shokran.” Yael sat down in the chair next to hers. She was suddenly super-thankful there was a screen that could be raised between them, and wasted no time doing just that.