Falling for Heaven (Four Winds) (11 page)

He could see what He had been talking about with her sacrific
es though.  Heather had the compassion that most of humankind, in his experience, was lacking.  She housed her addicted sister, who surely didn’t appreciate her efforts.  She took care of her addle-brained mother, who would never be in her right mind again.  She grieved for the lost father and brother, silently, so she could continue to care for the others in her family and make sure that they survived.  And she did it without question.  There was no other option for Heather.  Uri could see that this was a sacrifice that she would make, given other choices.

But she did it by stripping for money.

Reconciling the two personas, compassionate Heather with sinful Heaven, was difficult for Uri.  Granted, he hadn’t asked her much about the stripping, so he didn’t know the whole story there.  He knew he was generalizing with her.

Her stage name was Heaven.  How ironic.

She was the closest to Paradise that Uri had ever been with a human’s touch.  He didn’t understand it. 

When she had rested her head on his chest last night, he had found himself enveloped in a cocoon of pleasure.  Pleasure unlike anyt
hing he’d ever known before.  He longed to feel it again.

Uri stood and paced around his cramped apartment, fingering relics he’
d held onto for one reason or another.  He had a lock of Anne’s hair, held together by a decaying ribbon.  He had letters, papers, and books from various authors and composers, which needed to be packed away in some of that acid-free paper before they rotted into oblivion.  He had a telephone from Mr. Bell, just as he had an iPhone from Steve Jobs.  In fact, Steve had given him the phone because Uri had one from Alexander.  He hadn't wanted to be outdone.  Uri had a piece of a conveyer belt that Henry Ford had created, enabling him to mass produce his automobile so cheaply.  He had a shirt from Dr. King.

They were souvenirs.  That’s all.  He didn’t particularly need them to remember each target, but he kept them nonetheless. Today, he was glad that he had souvenirs, because he wanted to give Heather something.  He’d never fe
lt the desire to do that before and wasn’t sure what it meant. 

The Boss had told him to follow
his instincts.  And here he was looking through his knick-knacks for something in particular.  Once he found it, he breathed a sigh of relief and set it aside for the next time he saw Heather.

Chapter 12

Heather decided to enjoy a rare day off by soaking in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and then reading a book.  She had seen Tiffany yesterday and knew what today would be like.  So she decided to spare herself the trouble of nagging her sister for not having changed clothes or eating.  She wasn’t due to see her mother again for another few days, and she didn’t have to dance tonight, so she was free.

She ran the
water as hot as she could stand it, adding bubble bath that smelled like lilies.  Making sure she had her fluffy bathrobe handy for getting out, she undressed and sank neck deep into the steaming water.

Uri filled her thoughts.

His assertions of being an archangel, sent here to help her fulfill her destiny were absurd.  She was angry that things had to be this way because she felt like she had finally met someone that she could like. 

They had a connection, the heat told her that.  She could feel his nearness, even if she couldn’t see him.  The flame in her belly told her.

The physical comfort that she got from being near him was another connection.  Last night she had almost fallen asleep, immediately after telling him her life’s story.  She couldn’t sleep after thinking about that stuff, much less talking about it.

And he’d enjoyed watching her dance.  Her ballet.  He’d preferred it.  Heather liked that.

She closed her eyes, and remembered that first night, in private room number two.  He had hummed
Swan Lake
while she danced for him.  She could tell from the look on his face that he enjoyed it.  That memory was quickly becoming a favorite of hers, something that she would lock away and save for dark times, to pull out like an old note, to finger and re-read until it was worn and frayed around the edges.

She wanted to dance for him
again. 

Heather finished washing
and stood from the tub, drying her body with a towel.  She wrapped herself in her robe and went to choose a book from her shelves.

Trying to decide between
Paradise Lost
and
On Nature
, a knock at the door interrupted her.

She opened the door a crack, then wider
, as a smile formed on her lips.  “Speak of the Devil and imps appear.”

Uri stood in her doorway, a funny smile on his lips.  When she opened the door wide, he came inside her living room.  “Were you thinking of me?”
  He looked proud of himself.

Shyly, she answered.  “Yes.”

His eyes took on a hungry look that rocked Heather to the core.  Like a predator, he advanced, his athletic build coming closer.  “You are
all
I’ve been thinking about, Heaven.”  In an instant, he was on her, pushing her against the wall behind the door.  “I want you.”  He kissed her.

Her senses overwhelmed, Heather kissed him back. 
His cool, wet tongue was in her mouth, warring with hers, as if her very soul was at stake.  She moaned into his mouth, eliciting a primal growl from him.

His hands went to
the belt of her robe, and yanked on it, roughly.  His fingertips brushed the robe off her shoulders, in one chilly stroke.  His hands were all over her, lifting her against the wall by her rear, pulling her against his arousal.  Her hands slipped under his tee shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, scratching with her nails in her desire.

She was surrounded with the essence of Uri, the feel of him, the smell of him.  She breathed deeply, inhaling the burnt smell
. 

Shock opened her eyes, as she realized she wasn’t kissing Uri at all.  She tried to push him off  her, but this one was too strong.

“Stop.”  She mouthed against his mouth, still insistently kissing hers.  Heather recognized him, the dichotomy of the cool touch and burnt smell.  It was Damien’s frigidity.  Not Uri’s spicy warmth.

“Damien!  Stop!”  She pushed against him, with all of her
strength but realized it was in vain.  She was no match for him.

She closed her mouth, biting the tip of his tongue, causing him to finally retreat.  He looked at her with a smirk on his face.

She watched stunned, wrapping her robe around herself tightly, as Uri’s golden features melded into something truly horrifying, before morphing again into the dark handsomeness of Damien.  His eyes were the last to transform, fading from the scaly red evil into the black orbs of apathy.

Tears sprang to Heather’s eyes as she
realized exactly what Damien was and why he'd seemed so evil to her.

"Yes, Heaven.  I am."  His voice was smug.  "It's a relief, actually, to not have to pretend anymore."  Damien advanced on her, pinning her to the wall again, this time completely against her will.  His cold body rubbed against hers.

"My entire existence, I've been blamed."  His tongue snaked out, licking Heather's neck, before slinking back inside his mouth, which covered her neck in cold open-mouthed kisses.  He spoke between contacts with her neck.  "I've been blamed for bad luck."  Kiss.  "For war."  Kiss.  "For disease."  Kiss.  "Famine."  Kiss.  "Bad dreams."  Kiss.  Each clammy press of his lips to her skin sending a shudder throughout her body. 

He raised his head, and looked Heather squarely in the face.  "I used to be like Uri, you know.  But then He got mad at me, and threw me down, and now, I can't have anything good."  His hands were on Heather's hips, and she squirmed under his touch as his icy fingers slowly made their way up her rib cage, cupping her breasts. 

Heather gasped at the icy contact.  "Damien, please."

Damien's eyes caressed her lips.  "I want somet
hing good, for a change.  I want you."  His gaze locked on hers.  "I will have my Heaven."  Giving her breasts a hard squeeze, he released her abruptly, stepping back.  "One way or another, willing or unwilling, I will have you."

Heather found the strength to open the door
, wide.  “Get out, Damien.”

He sauntered past, slowly, antagonizing her with his movements.  “See you later,
Heather
.”

Fingers shaking, she locked all of the locks on the door, then moved her wingback chair in front of it, feeling incredibly vulnerable. Expelling wracking sobs, she sank to the floor in a heap.

Damien was the devil.

She knew this, as sure as she knew that her sister was addicted to meth.  She knew it as sure as she knew her mother would never be the same again.  She knew it as sure as she knew she would never see her dad or her brother alive again. 

She knew it as sure as she knew Uri was an angel.

Chapter 13

              Uri was pacing his apartment, restlessly waiting, again trying to figure out his mission, when his phone buzzed on the end table.  Uri was surprised to receive a text message from Heather so soon.  He didn’t think she’d contact him today.  When he saw the message, he couldn’t understand the flutter of panic in his gut.

Can you meet me and Taco at the park in an hour?  Please?  I need to see you.

              He wasn’t sure why it caused the flutter, it seemed innocuous enough, but something about the pleading quality of the text didn’t seem like Heather.  It didn’t seem right to him.  He texted back.

Sure.  See you then.

              True to his word, an hour later he was sitting in the same place they had met last time.  This time he wasn’t meditating.  He was waiting, and he was on alert.

             
He felt her first.  The burning sensation in his stomach calmed the fluttering, and when Taco came running around the bushes, he bent to stroke the chihuahua’s belly.  He rose when Heather came into view.

             
“Hello, Heather.  What’s wrong?”

             
She didn
’
t speak
;
,
she walked up to him and gave him a fierce hug around his waist, knocking the breath from him.  He could hear her sniffing deeply, inhaling his scent.  Then he knew.  The Deceiver had touched her.  And Uri was furious.
 

             
“So,
the Deceiver has contacted you?”  Bile rose in the back of his throat at the possibilities.  He had seen the Deceiver's work, and it was disgusting.  Uri's head spun
, knowing what
with what he
could ha
ve been
d
done to the woman
he
Uri
was quickly starting to
think of
associate with
as his own.

             
She nodded, not looking at him.

             
“Are you okay?”  Uriel had seen the others that the Deceiver had touched. Some of them never came back from the experience.  He felt a pang in his gut and realized it was worry.

             
She didn’t respond immediately, just continued holding him.  He brought his arms around and held her tightly, trying to impart some comfort, not knowing why, or if it was even working.

             
Finally, she released him, and took a step back.  “I thought he was you.”

             
The fury that Uri was trying to suppress kept him from responding verbally, so he merely nodded.  He had never been so angry.  He realized that he was becoming attached to this assignment, and he still didn't understand what it was…

             
Heather sat on the grass, motioning for Uri to join her.  He sat next to her, wondering at the sudden urge to pull her into his arms again.  He suddenly felt so empty without her there.

             
“He’s been at the club, but I didn’t realize who he was.  I mean, I knew he was trouble, but I deal with trouble there all the time.”  Uri clenched his jaw.  “He sent me roses, to my apartment, and I was scared because he knew where I lived.  That’s never happened before.”

             
He had to interrupt her.  “You realize who he is, don’t you?”

             
Her eyes, as they looked at him, tore a hole in his heart.  They were so full of fear.  “He’s the devil, isn’t he?”

             
Uri nodded.  “Yes, Heather.”

             
She nodded, “I saw him.”

             
Disbelief coursed through him.  The Deceiver hadn't done that in a long time.  “He showed his true form to you?”