by E. A. Copen
Decimus frowned. “Commander Petra didn’t want me to come to you at all. She wanted to eliminate you to keep you from working together. Her belief is that Monahan will approach you with an offer, one that you’ll have to accept. One that will help him kill everyone in this city. And she thinks you’ll do it to save your own skin. I like to think you’re not that broken yet.”
I scowled at the angel sitting across from me. “You want me to kill a friend after your people chased me all over the city and tried to kill me. Twice!”
He struck the table with a fist. “I told you those weren’t my men!”
“But you didn’t fuckin’ stop them, now did you?”
Decimus sat in silence, rage coming off him in waves. He thought he had me backed into a corner. Work with him, save the city, and he’d call off Petra’s killers. All I had to do was take out Danny and the city would be safe. He could go back to his bosses a hero.
Except I didn’t have to do shit. I could walk. More than that, I could help Danny get what he wanted. And why not? Wasn’t a soul in New York who gave a damn about me. The world could do with ten million fewer assholes. Might be nice to have someone in charge downstairs that actually liked me, seeing as that’s where I was headed when I finally died. Could be Danny might do a lot of good as the King of Hell.
“I want something in return.”
“Of course.” Decimus folded his hands on the table. “I wouldn’t ask you to work for free. Your very soul is on the line here, Josiah. Right now, your sins all but guarantee you a place in Hell. You don’t want that. Why would you? You’ve spent nearly half your life sending demons back there, making many enemies. Your recent trip there also didn’t make you any friends. What if I could promise you a place in Heaven instead?”
I crossed my arms. “You’d do that? For a half-breed?”
“I’d do it for the price of your soul.”
Of course he would. The soul of a half-breed angel would be worth a lot, especially to some middle-management jackass like Decimus. It wouldn’t just be power for him, but a trophy. He could wave it in Michael’s face that he’d succeeded in slaying the last of the Nephilim where Michael had failed.
If I went along with that, however, I’d be signing my own death warrant. There was no good way for this to end. Either I fought and died in that bar or I’d delay it a few more days. Maybe with a few days to think about it, I’d find a way out, at least.
I stood, pushing my chair back. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not your pawn, you self-righteous cunt. I don’t jump when you snap your fingers. I don’t come running when you ring a bell. I don’t fuckin’ work for you and I never will. You and all the winged pricks upstairs can eat a dick for all I care.”
The suits behind me stepped forward, reaching for me. Decimus shook his head, halting their advance.
“So can every asshole in this city,” I continued. “It’s not my fuckin’ city. I’m just here for a stop off. If I do this—and I’m not saying I will—then I do it my way. And my way isn’t pretty. It won’t get you any pats on the back from Michael or the Big Guy.”
He nodded once. “Understood.”
“I’m not finished. I also want thirty grand and all the identity documents Jessup promised me.”
“Done.” He extended a hand.
“There’re two things I won’t do, Deci. That’s take checks and shake hands.”
“Very well.” He cleared his throat and stood. “I give you my oath before God and these witnesses. If you agree to stop Daniel Monahan from killing everyone in this city, I will personally see to it that Heaven allows you to leave the city alive.”
“And the girl,” I insisted. “Khaleda’s with me. The agreement covers her or I walk.”
“And Khaleda Morningstar. You have free rein to handle the situation as you see fit without consequence from Heaven. Thirty thousand dollars American will be deposited into your account within twelve hours, and Khaleda’s identity documents will be yours upon completion of the task. Are we in agreement?”
I studied his expression. “I don’t buy the humble, pious angel act.”
Decimus sighed. “Nevertheless, that’s the truth. There are some of us who still believe in free will and love humans. Despite what he’d have you believe, Michael and his cohorts don’t represent the majority. I don’t want war. Most of us don’t.”
“And me? You content to live and let live when it comes to us half-breeds?”
He looked at me as if I’d just forced him to swallow a dirty gym sock. “You’re a mistake, one that needs correcting. Considering your lifestyle, I also believe you’ll become a self-correcting mistake soon enough. Feel free to continue smoking, boozing, and fucking your way around the world, Josiah Quinn. Eventually, it will catch up to you. And when it does, your soul belongs to me.”
He adjusted his jacket and pushed past me, headed for the door. Decimus’ two suits flanked him while the doorman held the door.
The angel paused in front of the open door to turn back to me. “Of course, feel free to prove me wrong too. Heaven could use a man of your talents, you know, and you’ll have to choose a side eventually.”
I tucked my hands into my pockets. “You know the great thing about free will, mate? It means I’m free not to choose, too.”
He tugged his cap down. “And that’s a choice all its own. We’ll be in touch.”
Decimus the angel walked out of the bar.
TWELVE
KHALEDA
JOSIAH GOT IN THE CAB, slammed the door and demanded I tell Victis to take us back to the hotel.
“Did you work out my papers?”
The fire in his eyes made my breath catch. He could’ve matched Father’s wrath in that moment. “Later.”
I tapped the grate. “Take us back.”
We didn’t speak. Not as we drove through the heavy snow, not as Victis parked the cab in an overnight lot at the end of the block, not as we got out and walked the icy sidewalk back to the hotel. Victis hung back with me while Josiah walked ahead of us, a silent storm of swirling white rage. He was so upset, he didn’t even smoke. Whatever had happened in that bar, it had gotten to him.
I let him take more of a lead the further we walked and leaned on Victis instead.
“Why are you with him?” Victis asked me.
“He saved me.” Was that really it? It didn’t feel like enough of a reason to have gone all the way across the country with a man I barely knew. I didn’t know anyone else. Well, not anyone else who would’ve helped me. While I had some contacts I could tap, I had no idea if Father had gotten to them after he decided on my punishment. Once he let those demons carry me away, he could’ve told them any story he liked and they would’ve believed it. “He promised to help me get the missing part of my soul back.”
“Is he actually doing that?”
I shrugged, or tried to. It was damn near impossible with him half-carrying me. “Honestly, I have no idea what he’s up to half the time. I think he was going to, but then God’s Hand got involved. We’ve spent so much time running from them, he hasn’t had time.”
Was I really defending that asshole to the man I’d brainwashed? I didn’t owe Josiah anything, especially since he hadn’t delivered on his promise. If I told Victis to take me back to the cab and get me out of the city, it’d be hours before he even noticed I was gone. He was so absorbed in his own problems, he’d forgotten I was limping along on an injured leg. Bastard.
“He said there was a ritual,” I continued. “Just a modified tracking spell. But when he starts it, we’ll be a beacon. Anyone who’s looking for us will find us.”
“Manus Dei likely already knows where you are. They have spells that can track Nephilim and demons. There’s no hiding from them.” He sounded as if he were proud.
If I hadn’t been relying on him to help me walk, I’d have hit him. Even with all my influence, he was still one of them. “Josiah killed one of you. A lion shifter.”
Victis�
�� expression hardened. His jaw flexed.
“Did you know him?”
“Rufus.” Victis’ voice was rough. “Good soldier. One of Petra’s best. How did he die?”
“I helped Josiah decapitate him.” It wasn’t a lie, not precisely. Josiah had used my power to hold him still while he sawed off his head. The memory of how easily he’d done it made my stomach sour. “Does that change your opinion of me?”
Victis shook his head. “I love you. Him, I hate. If you’d give me your blessing, Teacher, I would kill him. You can be free of him.”
We reached the hotel. Victis opened the door for me like a perfect gentleman, despite the death threat he’d just uttered. I pulled myself through the door and he followed me. With him at my back, I should’ve felt at peace. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t hurt me. That was the nature of my power. I’d made him fall so hopelessly in love with me that he’d have brought me the moon if I asked. He would kill my enemies without a second thought, and yet he was my enemy. With his dying breath, he would profess his love for me, a false love. One I invented and fried his brain to convince was real. How did that make me any different from Father?
I shook the thought from my mind. I was nothing like him.
Vicitis came and took my arm.
I jerked it away and spun around to face him. “I forbid you to hurt Josiah under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
He ground his teeth so hard I could hear them creaking and groaning. “Yes, Teacher.”
“You’re not to report back to God’s Hand either. From now on, you’re mine. You no longer belong to them.”
His eyes widened. “I...”
Victis’ love for me would override his faith. He was mine, and I wouldn’t share him with murderous zealots. I was his god now. It was his only chance at surviving. If they found him out, they’d execute him.
For a minute, I thought he’d break into tears, but he swallowed whatever emotion he felt. “Yes, Teacher.”
He helped me back to the room and opened the door for me there, too.
I expected to enter and find Josiah passed out on the bed, or maybe pacing if he was still too wound up. Instead, the bathroom door was closed and locked. The sound of the shower running and rattling the pipes filled the tiny room.
“I suppose he decided a shower was more prudent than stitching up my leg,” I grumbled as Victis helped me onto the bed.
He knelt in front of me. “I heard what he said. If you fed more from me, it would help you. Please, Teacher. Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”
His offer was an icy knife to the gut. It stabbed at me and made my stomach turn at the same time. The poor man didn’t mean what he was saying. How could he when he didn’t understand what he was asking? He couldn’t truly consent to anything, not when he was under my influence. It’d never mattered to Father. He’d always said it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Not that he’d ever apologized for anything. Not the Prince of Darkness and King of Lies.
I took Victis by the chin and tipped his head down to kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, Victis, but I can’t. If you were yourself, you’d never let me touch you, let alone feed from you. What I did to you was wrong. I wish I could release you, but there’s no spell in Heaven, Hell, or on Earth that can undo what I’ve done.”
“God forgives all, Teacher. No matter how dark a stain the sin leaves, the Heavenly Father can wash it all away with His holy blood.” He took my hands and smiled up at me, a big, empty smile.
I wanted to smile back. When he’d been himself, he must’ve had an infectious laugh. Everyone around him would’ve loved him. This man is someone’s son too. Someone’s brother. I had no right to do this to him. I turned away. “I don’t think God wants anything to do with me.”
“God already loves you. All you have to do is accept his love. Don’t you want to be loved?”
Yes. That’s what I want. The thought surfaced before I could stop it. It was impossible for someone like me. Not just because of what I would do to anyone who loved me, but what it would do to me. To love and be loved was more than just a metaphorical weakness when it came to being a succubus. If I so much as brushed hands with someone who truly loved another, and was loved in return, I would sprout blisters. It burned me like fire.
I wanted it more than anything in the world, to know what that felt like, but nothing I did would ever make that a reality. No one could ever love me, and I could never love them. Not Father, not Victis, not God. And I hated them all for it.
I jerked my hands away from Victis. “I think you should go stand guard outside the door. Just in case.”
All the light and joy went out of his face. His body practically deflated, but he stood and followed orders just the same.
That wasn’t love. Love didn’t follow orders blindly. It didn’t mindlessly agree with whatever I said, or give me whatever I wanted just to keep me happy. Real love would be loud, angry. They’d tell me to stop being such a bitch just because life didn’t go my way. It would tell me to quit feeling sorry for myself and make something out of myself.
The bathroom door opened and Josiah stepped out shirtless, an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Where’s your pet?”
“Where’s yours?”
“She’s in her container happily devouring two crickets I believe. You feed yours?” He sat on the bed and hauled his bag up to search it.
My stomach growled as if he’d suddenly reminded it that food existed. When was the last time I’d had actual food instead of drinking my dinner? “No. Probably should though, shouldn’t I? I can send him for something.”
“Nah,” Josiah said and pulled out a plain white tank top. “Might get him in trouble. Those God’s Hand assholes were waiting for me in the bar. They’re everywhere. Like roaches.”
“Holy shit, Josiah. Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged and tugged the tank top on. “Dickheads had a point. Apparently, Monahan is up to no good. Wants to be the next King of Hell. If I don’t stop him, he’ll wipe New York off the map. They could stop him with the snap of their fingers, except for all their damn rules. So, because I’m here, and because my very existence is an affront to their senses, it’s apparently my job to do something about it.”
He removed the cigarette from his mouth and used it to gesture to me. “But never mind all that. Now that I’ve proven I haven’t forgotten how to shower, let’s see that leg, yeah?”
“It’s not that bad. I don’t even think it needs stitches. It’s stopped bleeding.”
“Khaleda, I’m not in the mood for any of your Princess of Hell drama.” He stood and gestured for me to scoot up the bed. “Get up here and show us the leg.”
“Princess of Hell,” I muttered and slid up the bed. Though that was technically true, I’d never considered myself any kind of princess. Maybe others did. Father had been grooming me to take his place until I betrayed him and tried to kill him. “Don’t call me that.”
He didn’t acknowledge what I’d said. Just shifted my leg and pulled the stocking off roughly. I grimaced as he poked at the deep cut on the inside of my thigh. He didn’t take the hint and thought that meant he should pinch the skin together.
“Ow!” I jerked away. “That fucking hurts! You could at least try to be gentle.”
Josiah raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, if you want gentle, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” He sighed and wrinkled his forehead looking back at the injury. “Well, it’s stopped bleeding, but I think we should stitch it up just to be safe. Your call though.”
The way he was looking at me, as if he were bored out of his mind, barely there... it was infuriating. Where else did he have to be? For a split second, I wondered what it’d be like to take power from him. He had plenty, more than most. How many times had he said he was more than willing to let me prey on him? I should. Break him. Make him beg on his knees just for a passing glance from me.
No. That was the hunger talking. Wasn’t it? But
the familiar stir was absent. What the fuck was I thinking? “And if I tell you to go fuck yourself?”
He shrugged. “Then I’m going to smoke this ciggy, call out for a ham and pineapple pizza, eat, probably smoke again, and fall asleep on that small patch of floor there.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re not going to make me?”
“Christ, what do you take me for?” He rolled his eyes. “You know how that would go? I’d sit on you and you’d kick like a mule and tear it open more.”
I waited for him to somehow relate my injury back to some minor inconvenience for him, but it didn’t come. It might’ve been the first selfless thing he’d ever said to me. “Fine then. Stitch it up.”
He retrieved a small black pouch from his bag.
While he laid out a single-use alcohol pad, cotton balls, and the sterile needle and surgical grade thread, I asked him, “Have you ever done this before?”
“Often enough. Have to when no one else is about to patch me up.” He tugged up his shirt and pointed out a faint white line on his stomach. “Were-jaguar. Young couple in Brazil hired me to retrieve their boy after they’d carried him off. No one else would go after him. Paid me a fortune to go into the rainforest. The jags weren’t keen on outsiders. Took a swipe at me before I could even introduce myself.” He dropped his shirt. “Almost bled out. Spent the night in a cave trying to stitch it closed when I wasn’t hallucinating.”
“Hallucinating?”
“Jags coat their claws in poison. I didn’t get a fatal dose. Just enough to trip. Almost didn’t make it back from that one.” He gestured to my leg. “If I can do that, I think I can handle this little nick, yeah?”
I nodded. There was no arguing with him anyway. Once he set his mind to doing something, there was no deterring him.
He cleaned the wound and went to work with that same singular determination. I turned away and chewed my lip through the pain. The room felt too hot, the needle icy cold. Each time it went in, a new mix of fire and ice ate at my leg, threatening to push me to tears. I fought it. After everything, I still hadn’t cried in front of him and I wasn’t going to break that streak now. Someone like Josiah would never let me live it down if I cried over a few stitches, no matter how bad it hurt.
