Ascending Passion

by Amanda Pillar

  Wait.

  “Did you just put glitter on my sheets?”

  Yael straightened from his squat next to her bed. “No.”

  She glanced down, but there was nothing there. She swore she’d seen him flick a handful of shiny dust over her bedspread. She glanced around the room. No sign of sparkles—and everyone knew once glitter made it into your house, it was never leaving.

  He disappeared inside her bathroom.

  She decided not to follow him into the confined space.

  He was muttering to himself when he emerged a few minutes later, wiping his hands together like he was cleaning them. But there was no sign of glitter there, either.

  Maybe I was seeing things.

  It had been a long day, and a headache was pounding its way across her forehead.

  Yael clapped his hands together, drawing her attention back to him. “Okay. All good. I’ll wait outside.” He quickly left, closing the door behind him.

  She sagged back against the wall, sudden tears threatening to spill.

  Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes, her hands coming away wet.

  I miss you, Eric.

  Chapter 15

  Yael stood on the porch, enclosed by flyscreens, and stared out across the compound. There were two rooms on this particular trailer; one was empty. He assumed the spare was for Lucifer when he deigned to visit. The remainder of the compound was just dust and quiet. All the archaeologists had disappeared inside their rooms, while the staff that worked here—cooks, cleaners, security guards, and assistants—were busy doing whatever it was they did.

  Yael’s accommodation was on the other side of the compound, next to one of the cooks. He hadn’t even rated his own bathroom; he had to share a communal one. My room is about half the size of Rowan’s. Maybe less. But it did have an air conditioner, at least.

  Not that I’ll be spending much time there.

  Considering he had to guard Rowan 24-7, he wasn’t going to have a lot of downtime. I may have to call in help at some stage.

  It galled him to think that, but even he needed to sleep.

  At least his bed hadn’t been covered in spells.

  Rowan’s had lit up like a Las Vegas casino when he’d stepped into her bedroom. The Clear Sight powder was certainly effective, he’d give it that. The glow from the enchantments in her bedroom had almost blinded him.

  Lucifer really wants her to like him.

  There were basic things, like listening spells, but there were also other more sinister magics, such as the complicated dream-weave that had been laid on her bed. Every time Rowan touched it, she’d start thinking about whoever the spell had targeted. In this case, Yael suspected it was Lucifer.

  Raze would have loved to study it.

  The other Dart found non-angelic magic fascinating, and something as complicated as the dream-weave would have left him pondering for days. As it was, Yael only had time to throw a handful of neutralizer at the spell and hope it worked. The glow had certainly dimmed, but hadn’t completely disappeared, before he’d stepped out of her room.

  Footsteps approached from inside the apartment, and then Rowan’s door opened. She stopped when she spotted him, her mouth open in a little ‘o’.

  She’s cute like that.

  No.

  Don’t even go there.

  Her damp, dark-red hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of loose jeans and a long-sleeved blouse. She looked fresh.

  While I’m standing here with sand in odd places.

  It was like he’d been to the beach, even though he’d been standing around a graveyard all day, fully dressed.

  Rowan collected herself and stepped onto the porch next to him, closing her door behind her. “Have you even left?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to be stalking me now?”

  “I don’t stalk people.” Much. He’d stalked Dina, but that didn’t count. “I’m your C.P.O. I need to know where you are and be close by in case something happens.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen.”

  “Your grandmother hired me for a reason.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, well, Gran is overprotective to a fault. You’ll learn that the hard way.”

  At first, he would have agreed with Rowan, but not so much anymore. Demons had been at the hotel, and he could sense more outside the compound, which, thankfully, was warded up the wazoo and guarded by Lucifer’s lackeys. The other archaeologists were also demons, although he doubted they’d be a problem—they were Lucifer’s employees. As for the other demons, the ones outside the compound, they may be Lucifer’s, or they could belong to Satan or Hades.

  If they didn’t answer to Rowan’s boss, and he had to guess who sent them, Yael would pick Satan. The Hell-lord was known to be the jealous type: whatever someone else had, he wanted. And if Rowan was as powerful a conduit as he was beginning to think she was, then Satan would love to get his hands on her. Just as much as Lucifer would.

  Rowan walked away from him when he didn’t reply, heading toward the mess area. He caught up to her quickly, his longer legs making short work of her head start. The compound glittered with magical spells, visible courtesy of his Clear Sight powder. Lucifer is on point. The compound’s boundary was bright as a 7-11, and other spells—anti-fire, anti-violence and others—glimmered on the buildings and communal areas.

  “Have you heard of these other archaeologists before?” Yael asked.

  “I’d heard of Dr. Mustafa—everyone who knows anything about Egypt has.” She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “You know, I don’t think I have heard of the others before.”

  Well, didn’t that say something?

  “Doesn’t everyone know everyone?” Like, how many archaeologists could there be?

  “In some cases, yes. But in others, the world is a big place. Unless you go to lots of international conferences, you might never meet some people.”

  “They don’t exactly look Egyptian.” Well, Campbell might pass, except for his surname. But Murdoch appeared to have Scandinavian ancestry and Kayla, British. Although, considering they were demons wearing flesh-suits, it probably didn’t mean a thing anyway.

  “No, you’re right. Kayla said she got her PhD from Oxford, and Colin from Leiden University. Dr. Campbell would have to actually speak for me to learn about his history.”

  Degrees could be forged. Look at the passport and paperwork that Dora had put together for him. But Yael wasn’t going to point out to her that her colleagues could be frauds. They certainly seemed to know enough of the right jargon to fool Rowan.

  Who knows, there might be some demons who are actually qualified archaeologists. Given that Lucifer liked to collect antiquities, the possibility was real.

  They reached the mess hall, finding the other archaeologists already there, along with a group of Egyptian men and women whom he hadn’t met. The assembly was clustered around one of the three long tables that stretched down the center of the room.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “Students, they’re meant to help.”

  Wonderful.

  Even more people he would have to keep an eye on.

  None of them showed any signs of magic, however. Curious, he turned to the three demon archaeologists. Campbell’s true form was partially visible under the illusion he wore—red skin, coal-black eyes and fur. A Cornak demon, if he guessed right—they specialized in curses. Specifically, in making them; but he supposed they could theoretically break them as well.

  Interesting choice.

  Dr. Murdoch hid a large, insect like form, covered in scales. He was an Anguis demon, which were extremely rare. That meant he had no idea what Murdoch was capable of. As for Kayla…she was exactly the same. She turned back toward them, pointing at Rowan and smiling. Her eyes flashed neon green.

  He was sure now. Succubus.

  He would have to be carefu
l around her, because even though he was a fallen angel, he was still susceptible to her charms. Anyone with a pulse was.

  Rowan left his side to go to the group. Seeing she was surrounded—and in a safe place—he quickly grabbed some food from the chef and headed outside. He hadn’t had a chance to go over the compound with a fine-tooth comb, since they’d stayed in Luxor the night before. Supposedly it was because their rooms weren’t ready, but Yael thought it was more likely that Lucifer wanted to finish lacing Rowan’s with spells.

  He prowled the perimeter—a tall wire fence—coming face to face with an Envio demon: huge, horned, and purple skinned, they largely worked as mercenaries. This one was dressed in a security guard’s uniform.

  “Yo, angel-boy, what are you doing here?” The demon deliberately blocked Yael’s path. Two more were closing in.

  “I am a C.P.O. for one of the archaeologists.”

  The demon snorted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re demons.”

  “Not the one I’m guarding.”

  The demon sniffed the air. “Ah yes, there are some humans here. Well, worry not featherless one. We’ll protect the camp from any bad guys.”

  Ugh.

  Demons.

  “Good. Means I have less work to do.”

  That earned him a laugh, and a slap on the shoulder—why the fuck was the Envio being friendly?

  “You’re not too bad for a halo. Now remember, stay out of our way, and you’ll stay alive.”

  Yael withdrew a dagger and played with it, tossing it in the air. “Ditto.”

  “Aw, he thinks he’s scary.” The three Envio demons laughed.

  “I’ve decapitated gods. You guys aren’t too much of a challenge.”

  “Oh yeah, which god?” the speaker taunted.

  “Set.”

  That earned a low whistle. “He’s a nasty one.”

  “Sure is. But he was also headless for a while.” He gave them a lazy grin. “Can you guys grow yours back?”

  They muttered something in the negative and moved aside, allowing him to walk past.

  After he’d finished his rounds, he took a quick shower and checked out his sleeping quarters again—his room only had a listening spell on it, which he decided to leave active. He then walked back to the mess, to find Rowan eating dinner next to Kayla.

  Rowan glanced up at him. “Where have you been?”

  “Oh, here and there.” He gave her a wolfish smile.

  Kayla snorted. “My, what big teeth you have.”

  “Aren’t you a bit old for nursery rhymes?” he asked.

  She laughed, and so did Rowan, the latter appearing startled by the fact she could.

  Yeah, well, her partner just died. So maybe it is surprising.

  “Okay, I am done. See you later.” Rowan stood, then took her plate to the kitchen. She met him at the doorway, where he followed her back to her room. “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  She went inside, shutting the door with a decisive click. Figuring that was it for the evening, he settled back against the wall. Her room had two windows—one in her bathroom, and one next to him. There was only one door. If she wanted to leave, she’d have to walk past him. And if someone wanted to attack, they’d have a lot of trouble coming in through the bathroom; the window was barely a foot square.

  The temperature dropped rapidly with the fall of darkness, and after a couple of hours he was just pondering grabbing a jacket when the door jerked open. Rowan stood there, illuminated from behind. She wore a navy-blue tank top and a pair of shorts with unicorns on them.

  Unicorns?

  “You’re going to stand there all night, aren’t you?”

  “Sure am.”

  She glared. “Why are you smirking?”

  “Your shorts have unicorns on them.”

  “So what?” She crossed her arms over her chest, which only emphasized her breasts.

  Eyes up. Eyes up.

  “I didn’t think you believed in magic.”

  “I don’t. They’re just cute.”

  “Right.” His smirk grew.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Come inside.”

  His mirth vanished. “Say what now?”

  “I’ll feel bad if you insist on standing outside all night. You can sleep on the floor.”

  “I don’t need to sleep, it’s fine.”

  She shot him an incredulous look. “Are you on drugs or something?”

  “No. I’ve just been trained to stay awake for long periods of time.” He assumed the human military would do something similar. From the acceptance on her face, his guess was correct.

  “Well, we’re not in any danger. Won’t hurt you to rest your eyes.”

  “I’ll stay out here.”

  “Fine.” She shut the door again.

  It really was getting cool out. Never mind, he could deal with it. He’d had to put up with worse.

  An hour later, the door opened again. Rowan was disheveled, her red hair a wild nimbus around her face.

  “Do you need something?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  Dried tears had left salty trails on her cheeks.

  “Come inside.”

  Seeing her upset did weird things to his insides. Wanting to protest, but unable to argue against the evidence of her sadness, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. “Why are you crying?”

  She scrubbed at her cheeks. “Eric.”

  For a blinding second, he didn’t know who she meant—and then it sank in. Her boyfriend. The dead one.

  “It will get easier.”

  She threw a blanket at his chest.

  He caught it. “I’m not saying your pain is invalid, just that it will get easier.”

  Her expression softened. “Thank you.”

  She climbed into her bed, wrapping a blanket around herself like a cocoon.

  Yael glanced at the floor. It was definitely warmer in here. And there was enough space for him to stretch out, unlike the bed in his room, which was about a foot too short.

  Shrugging, he lay on the carpeted floor, using his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow. “Sleep well.”

  Strangely, the sound of her rustling in bed, her soft breaths, it was comforting. Like this was a perfectly normal situation, him listening to her fall asleep.

  Chapter 16

  They’d formed a truce, over the past three weeks. Rowan would get out of bed first, tiptoeing across to the bathroom, where she would sneak inside and lock the door, to get ready for the day. By the time she emerged, Yael was up and dressed—not that he was ever undressed—his blanket folded neatly and stashed away in the wardrobe.

  They’d get breakfast together, head off to site with the others, and he would patrol the archaeological excavation the entire day, always close by, and always at hand in case she needed help. He’d even assisted some of the workers when they’d hit a tough patch of soil; the man could dig like a machine.

  They’d then record everything at the end of the day, pack up, fight their way through the dispersing tourists, and head back to the compound for the night. Have a shower—separately, of course—then eat dinner. Go to bed.

  Rinse and repeat.

  It had gotten to the point where Rowan expected his presence, even felt a little lonely if he had to duck away in the evenings to grab some new clothes or something. It was silly, and she hated herself for it, but she had never lived with another adult before—not one who wasn’t related to her, anyway.

  It was nice.

  Eric loved his personal space too much for us to move in together.

  It felt like a traitorous thought, but it was true. He’d said he would only sacrifice his independence for the woman he’d marry. Which I assumed would be me.

  But…had that been a fair assumption? Wouldn’t Eric have wanted to spend as much time with her as he could? He’d been her first serious relationship—her fa
mily had scared off all the others—so maybe she hadn’t had the right expectations.

  Yael’s presence was silent and steady—when he wasn’t being a smartass—and she enjoyed his company. Liked having him around, even when he was being rude-ish.

  The worst part of him being there were the dreams, though. They’d start out featuring Luke: Rowan and her boss would be on a romantic date somewhere, but once they grew intimate, the dream would morph, Luke changing into Yael. Her brain always took a few moments to catch up, and she’d wake, sweating, the feel of Yael’s mouth on hers embarrassingly real.

  But it never was.

  He was always in his position on the floor, or sitting next to the door, reading. Sometimes he was even eating a bowl of cereal; he refused to tell her where he’d stashed the box.

  This morning was particularly awkward. In her dream, they’d been naked and entwined together, not having sex, but almost. His body can’t really be that amazing. It had been all sharp planes, an eight-pack, and a huge…

  “Yo! What’s taking you so long? I’m hungry.”

  Rowan dropped her toothbrush in the sink.

  She’d been daydreaming. Heat burned in her cheeks, but thankfully Yael couldn’t see her, as she was locked in the bathroom.

  “I’ll be five minutes!” she shouted back.

  She picked up her toothbrush, brushed her teeth, straightened her hair, and wiped her face clean in record time. She opened the door just as Yael was about to knock again, his fist raised in mid-air.

  His hazel eyes swept over her. “Good, you’re ready.”

  “Let’s go.” She slipped past him and out the door.

  He locked up behind her. “You feeling okay? You’re a bit flushed.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Humans get sick.” He frowned. “Are you sick?”

  Humans? Like what? He’s an alien or something?

  “No.” Hoping her curt tone would forbid any further questions, she shoved open the mess hall’s door. Kayla was already inside, the plate before her filled with falafel, eggs and pita bread. Three coffee mugs were also in the melee.