Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (198 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

HOPE WRAPPED HER ARMS AROUND NICK, her eyes shimmering. To think of carrying all that pain for over a hundred years!

“I’m so sorry,” she said. To have witnessed his past almost firsthand was nearly as overwhelming as learning that he was an angel. Her own pain felt oddly distant, replaced by concern for his wounded heart.

“I don’t even know why I—”

“Shhhh.” She put her finger on his lips. But his entire body tensed up. Holding his head in his hands, he began straining.

“Nick, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t…know!”

But from the eyes squeezed shut, the gritting teeth, she could tell he was in great physical pain. She had no idea what to do, so she just held him, lightly rubbing his back, patting it with her fingertips. “How can I help?”

He shook his head tightly, the pain agonizingly evident. After a while, his tension seemed to diminish. His breathing became more even. Finally, he took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Sorry.”

“What just happened?” Hope said.

“Not sure. Sensory overload, perhaps. I might’ve spent too much time in this human form.” He looked up, his expression surprisingly vulnerable. Cautiously, she touched his face. This time, he didn’t flinch.

“I couldn’t save her.” Sorrow mixed with despair, his gaze fell to the floor.

“But you saved me,” she said.

“A hundred years have passed, and I still haven’t come to terms with what happened, Hope.” Nick’s voice broke. “It just makes no sense. No sense at all.”

Now he was trembling, but not as he did when he was suffering from that strange physical bout. This was much more profound.

How do you comfort an angel?
All she could do was hold him, whisper sweet hushing sounds into his ear, and shed sympathetic tears.

And then, the words just came.

Straight from her heart.

“He is there, Nick. Like He said to me, He’s there in my past, healing the pain—I don’t know, retroactively? But I’m sure He’s there in your past too.”

Nick looked up, his eyes moist, but fighting to maintain a strong façade. “I don’t know…”

She leaned close, bowed her head to touch his, and did the only thing she knew how to do, when all else was lost. “Dear Lord, would you please mend Nick’s broken heart?” And again, she held him.

Nick’s shoulders relaxed and he drew a long breath, and sighed as one who had been relieved of a heavy burden. For an infinite moment, they remained in each other’s arms. Hope could almost feel the anguish draining from him.

Finally, he regarded her wistfully. “If only I could just quit everything and stay here with you.”

“Can’t you?”

“After all that happened back in England, I’m an empty shell.” He sighed. “You deserve better.”

“But Nick—”

“And I can’t let my mistakes endanger you.”

“Danger?”

“Everything that happened to Sophia, to Clara.”

“You’re forgetting one really important fact.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m not Sophia.”

Nick looked at her intently for a long moment, then seemed to relent. He bore the aspect of someone who’d made up his mind about something important.

“Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?”

“Good enough for me.” She closed her eyes as he reached out and held her hand.

#

When she opened her eyes, they were back in her suite at the Broadmore. She was sitting next to Nick on the edge of the bed, still holding his hand.

“Where do we go from here?” she said.

“Just stay here for a while,” he said. “I’ll have it all sorted out soon.”

“What do you mean?”

He got up, headed for the door.

“Before we met, I was bitter about my demotion to reaper—and now you know how it happened. But none of that matters anymore. I’ve made a decision. Just have to tie up some loose ends before moving forward. I shan’t be long.”

He pointed to the television and it switched on. Then to the room service menu, which flipped open on the nightstand next to them.

“Have something to eat. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”

Hope looked down at her white robe.

“I haven’t a thing to wear.”

“On the contrary,” Nick said with a glance at the sofa by the door. There sat the shopping bags and boxes full of clothing, all from the oblivion locker.

Just a day ago she was a disheveled vagabond who’d lost everything, right down to the will to live. Now here she was in a luxurious hotel, every need provided by someone she knew she could trust—someone she would love even if he had nothing of his own to give.

“You don’t have to do all that for me, Nick.”

“It’s nothing, really.” He pulled a shiny new smartphone from one of the bags and tossed it to her. “Here.” He then pulled his own phone from his pocket to show her. “If you need anything, I’m on speed dial.”

She giggled at the thought of an angel with a cell phone.

Nick opened the door. “Just do me one favor, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t wander off too far.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

WITH THE HARTWELL ASSIGNMENT ESSENTIALLY completed and Carlito Guzman’s life saved, it was time for Nick to check in and make sure there weren’t any loose ends that might reflect poorly on his performance—or on Tamara, who’d put her neck on the line for him.

In any case, a poor performance report from Lena would only hurt his chance of success at what he was about to do. After wrapping things up with her, he planned to negotiate the terms of his fall—a decision no angel should take lightly.

There were two ways to fall. First, rebellion: the way Lucifer and his followers had chosen, shaking an angry fist at heaven and being cast out for eternity. Humans might never have known about the greatest of all fallen angels had Milton not given Lucifer that infamous line:
Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heav’n.

The second manner of falling was nothing so glorious or dramatic. Occasionally a celestial host had faded out of the spiritual realms without revolt or discord. Of course, superiors had to approve such petitions, but given their infrequency, it was rarely denied. Once granted, the angel simply became human, relinquishing immortality and all other supernatural powers.

Nick had considered falling during his incognito period with Sophia. But he never went through with it: at first he seemed to be getting along so well he didn’t need to—then, gradually, so badly he didn’t want to. Now, as he considered the ramifications, falling seemed more complicated than he’d realized.

To be cut off from eternity, from extra-physical perception, from all he knew of existence? It was an exile from which there was no return.

And yet, for Hope Matheson he would embrace this and more.

Was it the wisest of decisions? Probably not. But it wasn’t just because of his feelings for her. He had no wish to rebel or join the ranks of the Dark Dominion. But neither could he continue offering his services to a commander in chief whose angelic rules made no sense. The only way for him to be happy was to find that state where he could just live as he felt—follow his heart, as the humans liked to put it. To do this, however, he had to fall and become mortal.

Perhaps Tamara and everyone else had been right, he had indeed spent too much time among the humans. Not just time. He’d given himself over to their way of thinking, living, even their limited view of reality. And already, as he invisibly followed Lito and a bodyguard through the shadows of the Pacific Plaza mall’s parking deck, he sensed his powers draining.

It didn’t matter, though.

Soon, none of it would.

All that mattered was his desire to be with Hope, love her, even meet an end one day.

Lito and his bodyguard Raul had just come out of the High Concept women’s fashion store—owned by the Guzman syndicate, judging by their conversation.

“I’m telling you,” Lito said, “we can turn this whole thing around. Get rid of all the corruption, all the bad stuff, you know? Start doing things legit and still be highly profitable.”

Raul snorted. “You going soft, Lito? What’s with you, man?”

“Let’s just say I had an epiphany?”

“A what?”

“Never mind.”

Nick knew what he meant. He’d seen the heartfelt gratitude on Lito’s face for having miraculously survived the drive-by shooting the other day. Many a human reacted that way when angels were sent to intervene. Some of them even turned their lives around. Nick was happy to protect this one.
Like a guardian, again.
Finally an assignment that made sense, though ironically, it was his last.

“Don’t let anyone hear you talk like that, okay?” Raul said. He nudged Lito with his elbow—which, considering Raul’s size, was more like getting sacked by Junior Seau. Lito would have toppled, but Raul caught him by the arm and pulled him back in time.

“Watch it!” Lito said.

“Sorry, boss.”

Lito kept glancing over his shoulder as they walked to his car. Nick wondered if he could perceive him, then heard the sound of tires screeching around the corner and realized his subject was reacting to something else.

Nick’s phone buzzed.

He tried to fly over to Lito, but with each attempt he ended up back on his feet.

A black sedan was coming up behind them. Slowly.

His phone buzzed again, a text message from Lena:

ABORT GUZMAN ASSIGNMENT

LET THEM TAKE HIM OUT

If he disregarded her instructions and botched this final assignment, there was no telling how it would affect his plans to fall, and his future with Hope.

The sedan passed him. Nick watched its tinted passenger side window roll down, watched the muzzle of a semiautomatic poke through.

#

The order had been clear, but Lena was concerned about Nick’s following through. After all, the new directive for Carlito Guzman was a complete one-eighty from the original. The powers that be were now viewing the cartel leader as a potential liability for some reason and wanted him terminated. She doubted the wisdom of switching things up so sharply with Nick, an unstable recruit, but Morloch had insisted on it. And he called the shots.

“Besides,” he’d told her, “what better way to determine if Nick will be a good soldier or a loose cannon?”

Seemed like Nick was being set up for failure, though.

In any case, Lena had carried out her own orders and now must focus on more pressing issues at hand.

Such as the Event.

Perched high atop Lady Liberty’s crown, where she always went to clear her mind, Lena stared up at the nearly full moon and considered everything she was about to do.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

MOMMA HAS LOCKED HERSELF IN the whole time Daddy has been away. She’s come out maybe once or twice but never to talk to her—only Daddy ever takes the time. He’s working one county away—now that she’s sixteen he feels secure enough to do construction work out of town.

She sits by the television set watching some white guy swinging his hips and singing like a Negro, but her eyes keep drifting to the bedroom door. Even after the show is over, the set turned off, it never opens.

The silence is the worst part of all.

That’s why she watches TV, but she’s had all she can stand for tonight. She’s about to start reading when she hears something behind the door. It’s a soft sound but it’s clear.

Momma’s crying.

Panicked, she runs to rap on the door.

“Momma, please! Open the door!” She’s threatened to hurt herself before and Daddy says never to push her to that point. So she can’t open the door. But she’s sick of Momma’s sulking, feeling sorry for herself all the time, being mean to her and Daddy. Yet at the same time she feels desperately sorry for her mother—she’s never known anybody so unhappy. Why is she so sad, so upset with them?

Daddy gave her the number where he’s staying in case of an emergency. She’ll call him, that’s what she’ll do.

He sounds exhausted when he says hello.