Personal Demons (37 page)

“Are you taking this?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, the strap of my black lace bra looped over his finger.

“Probably. I need something to get those UCLA guys all hot and bothered.”

His face darkens as he tucks it back into my drawer.

“Course, if you come with me, I won’t have time for any of those lightweights.” I try to seem casual as I saunter over and wrap myself around him, but I’m all kinds of tense.

His expression clears as he ties my hair back in a knot. “Where else would I be?”

I blow out a nervous sigh. “So, you’ll come to LA?”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” he says with his wicked grin.

I look around at my papered walls, and it hits me for the first time how much I’m gonna miss home. But what I also realize in this instant is that anyplace with Luc is home. “What are you gonna do when we get there?”

“Maybe take a class or two . . . get a job.” He shrugs. “Whatever.”

“With seven thousand years of job experience, you should be able to find something.”

He cracks a smile. “I don’t think there are too many openings in damning souls to Hell.”

I smile back. “It’s LA. You might be surprised.”

He laughs but then gets all serious and pulls me tighter. “I’m really not sure this is a great idea. It’s not over, you know. If King Lucifer let him live, Beherit will send someone else—or
come back himself now that it’s personal.” He rubs his chin with his thumb. “You actually may have killed him, Frannie. From his reaction it looked like gold was his weakness. That dagger to his brimstone heart . . . hard to say.”

I’m not sure how I feel about that. I pull away and look up at Luc, trying to shake off the sudden wave of guilt. “So if that’s true, according to you, I’m tagged for Hell now for sure.”

His eyes flash, and he goes instantly pale. “What are you talking about?”

“If I killed him, I’m just like Tom. You said no extenuating circumstances. Straight to Hell for me. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

Uncertainty clouds his eyes. “It was self-defense. And killing a demon is different,” he says, like he’s trying it out to see if it sounds right.

“Now you’re making exceptions? You’re such a hypocrite.”

His face hardens into a determined scowl. As if he can make it so through sheer force of will, he says, “You’re
not
tagged for Hell.”

When I don’t say anything, he turns toward the window, his face dark and brooding. He stares out at nothing and says, “This is my fault. I never should have come here.”

“They would have sent someone else—someone like Belias.”

He shakes his head slowly and turns back to look me in the eye. “He never would have found you.”

But Luc did. We’ve been connected from the beginning. I press into him and he folds me into his arms.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he whispers into my hair. “Gabriel and Matt can do that better than I can.”

“I feel safe right here,” I say, still burrowed into him.

“We can’t do this on our own, Frannie. We’re going to need Gabriel’s and Matt’s help. Especially if you insist on going to LA.”

I pull back and look at him. “Okay, so if going to LA isn’t a good idea, what do you suggest we do?”

“We should just take off. Find somewhere to hide.” That wicked sparkle is back in his eyes, and a hint of a smile curls his lips. “Maybe buy some deserted tropical island somewhere . . . just us, clothing optional.”

I laugh, kinda liking the sound of that. “I could live with that, but you’re the one who said they can find us anywhere.”

He looks hopeful. “That was before. Did you notice? Beherit didn’t know I was at Gabriel’s that night. I shouldn’t have been able to surprise him—and I had the hounds with me, so my Shield hid them too. With some help from Matt, this might just work.” He thinks for a second, then smiles. “And I suppose LA’s as good a place to get lost as any.”

I hope he’s right, but right now all I want to do is lose myself in him. I press tight into his body and bury my face in his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. That’s the only thing that saved me. You’re my redemption.” He leans down and kisses me.

I gaze into his perfect eyes and trace my finger lightly down the scar on his cheek. He closes his eyes and shudders, then sighs. I press closer into him, knowing what I want. “Do that thing again.”

He smiles and opens his eyes, but his brow creases. “I don’t think I can.”

I stretch up on my tiptoes, loop my arms around his neck, and pull him into a kiss. “Try,” I whisper into his lips, wanting to feel that close to him again.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and leans into me, kissing me deeply. After a minute he pulls back. “I can’t. My essence is human now—a soul. It can’t leave my body while I’m alive.” But he doesn’t look disappointed. He’s smiling.

My pulse quickens and I feel an electric tingle course through my body, waking every cell. “So . . . does this mean we can . . .”

His eyes are deep, black pools as he stares down into mine, and I swear I can see
his
soul. Then they flash and he nods. He leans down to kiss me, and, as we sink into the sheets, into each other, I know this can’t be wrong.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. I kiss her and feel my new flesh-and-blood heart expanding right out of my chest, filling me with indescribable bliss.

We can be together—really together.

Her hands start on the button of my jeans, and I wish for the ability to just magic our clothes away.

But that was my old life. No . . . not a
life
at all. Just an existence. I wrap my arms around Frannie and pull her closer. This is living.

I pull back and look at her, sure I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. She closes her eyes as I trace a finger along her eyebrow
and down her nose, but just as my finger reaches her lips, her eyes snap open and her features twist in pain. “NO!” she gasps, bolting upright. I feel her terror just as if it was my own.

Her face is ashen as she rolls and vomits into the trash can next to the bed. She sits and hugs her knees to her chest. “Me . . .” Her whisper is barely audible.

I pull myself up and sit next to her. “What is it? What did you see?”

“He’s coming,” she says, her voice strangled. Then she’s off the bed like a shot, pulling on her shirt.

“Who?” I say, struggling to keep up. I slide my feet onto the floor and button my jeans. “Who’s coming, Frannie?”

The room starts swirling, and then Gabriel is there, all human pretense gone. He hovers just off the floor in his flowing white robes, and I see Frannie’s terror mirrored in his eyes.

Matt appears next to him. “He’s coming.”

And then, like a wrecking ball, some unseen force hits Frannie, lifting her off the ground and throwing her hard into the wall. Matt dives for her, but he’s too late. She slides into a heap on the floor.

“Frannie!” My legs have me across the room and over her crumpled form in a flash, and when I pull her into my arms, I see the steam start to rise off her skin. She’s a thousand degrees. “Frannie!” I say again, shaking her. Then she opens her eyes and I understand.

They’re glowing red.

“Lucifer,” she says in a voice that’s hers but not, “who’s got the prize now?”

“No!” I hear my voice as if from a great distance as rage nearly rips me in half.

“Beherit!” Gabriel’s voice vibrates through me. “You can’t do this. You have no claim.”

“Oh, but I can . . .
am
, actually.” Frannie’s lips pull into a sinister grin. “I’ve got special orders from the king Himself. Anything goes.”

I hold Frannie and, as I look into those glowing eyes, I know the game is over. If King Lucifer wants her so much he’s willing to throw all the rules to the wind, I’m not sure even the Almighty could save her.

I can’t give up.

I look at the crucifix dangling from the chain around her neck. Gold. I yank it from her neck and raise it above her.

But Matt grabs my wrist. He glares at me and rips the crucifix out of my grasp. And he’s right. I can use it to drive Beherit out, but at what cost?

She starts to pull free of me, and I let her. But then, by instinct, I reach for her hand, holding it in a death grip. Frannie is still in there, and a desperate piece of me needs to stay connected. She pulls herself to her feet, seeming taller, and turns to look me in the eye.

“How quaint, Lucifer. But you two are well past the hand-holding stage, don’t you think?” She grabs my face and pulls me into a hard kiss. But it’s not Frannie, it’s Beherit, and I feel tendrils of his essence start to work their way through my lips.

As I pull back, she gasps loudly and her face screws tight as a strangled “no” works its way up from her depths. Gabriel sweeps her out of my arms and into his. He cradles her in one
arm and draws a circle on her forehead with the index finger of the other as he whispers something I can’t make out.

Her eyes snap open, still glowing red, and her face pulls into a grimace. “Good luck with that, Gabriel.”

As asinine as it is, I find myself jealous that Gabriel can actually do something other than just stand here staring, and I have to fight the urge to rip her out of his arms.

“A fighter, this one,” she says in a strained voice distinctly
not
hers.

“Fight him, Frannie,” I say, reaching for her hand.

Her face twists with effort. “I want you out.” Her voice is little more than a whisper, but it’s hers. Her body writhes in Gabriel’s arms. He lowers her to the bed, and I pull her into my arms, sending her all my strength.

“That’s it, Frannie,” Gabriel says. “You have the power. Use it.”

The flood of hope overwhelms me.
Sway
. Frannie has Sway. If she fights—if she wants it enough . . .

“You don’t want to be in here.” Her voice is stronger, and when her eyes open, there’s only a glowing ring around the irises. “You don’t . . . want me,” she growls.

She continues to writhe with the internal struggle for control then suddenly goes still, as if one of them has given up the fight. I gaze into her eyes, panicked nearly to the point of insanity. “Frannie?”

Her eyes roll back for a moment, and a moan starts from deep inside her, growing in intensity. Her face becomes red and her eyes bulge. There’s a flash of red energy, and she jerks then goes limp.

Breathing back the panic, I cradle her to my chest. “Frannie?
Can you hear me?” She finally looks up at me with clear blue eyes—still scared, but lucid.

“He’s gone,” she says with a weary smile. I take a few deep breaths to slow my hammering heart then lean down and kiss her.

I squeeze Luc’s hand where he sits next to me as I lie on the bed.

“You did good. Your Sway is getting stronger,” he says.

I’m still shivering and my teeth chatter. “Why can I only remember a little of what happened?”

“You may only remember the parts when you were in control.”

“I feel like someone ran over me with a bus. Why didn’t it feel like this with you?”

“Well, I didn’t pick you up and throw you into the wall, for starters,” Luc says. He and Gabe exchange a look, and Luc shoots him a vindictive smile. “But I guess it’s different when you’ve invited the demon in.”

Matt drops into the desk chair and glares at Luc.

Gabe looks at me with a rueful smile. I shrug, not sure what to say, but then a shiver racks me again and I feel nauseous. Out of the blue the tears start, and I’m helpless to stop them. “I’m not going to have a life, am I?” I say between the sobs.

Luc pulls me tightly to him, but he doesn’t answer.

Gabe stands in my door and just stares at me. “Nobody
knows the future, Frannie. Everything that happens changes everything else. But the deal is, you’re valuable to both sides. The chance that you’ll be able to get through this untagged is pretty much none. And once you’re tagged—either way—you can be manipulated. I’m obviously not all that objective, but if someone was going to be jerking me around, I’d rather it wasn’t Hell.”

My heart is so heavy. I know what needs to happen, what I need to do, but . . . “How do I forgive myself for the worst thing I’ve ever done? The worst thing
anyone
’s ever done?”

“Start by remembering what really happened.” Matt glides to the foot of the bed and sits. Luc untangles himself from me and moves to the door with Gabe, giving Matt and me some space. “I fell because I was trying to climb too fast. It was my fault.”

My throat tightens as I remember it. “No. I grabbed your ankle. I was mad, and I pulled you out of the tree.”

“Stop it. You’ve been beating yourself up for so long. It wasn’t your fault. You need to let it go.” He wraps me in his arms, and I sit like that for what feels like forever.

“I just wanted you back,” I finally say.

He smiles. “You have me.”

My heart feels so heavy. “Not really. You’re still dead.”

“You’re right. I don’t have the life I would have had if ?I hadn’t fallen out of the tree, but that doesn’t make why I’m here any less important to me. And it doesn’t make my dying any more your fault.”

He looks at me for a long time, and I don’t know what to say. Finally he says, “Gabriel says you need to forgive yourself, or we
can’t protect you.” A smile turns the corners of his lips. “You gotta do it, Frannie. I can’t blow my first gig because of an uncooperative client. It wouldn’t bode well for the rest of eternity.”

“I can’t—”

His smile is gone as he cuts me off. “He says you have to figure out why you can’t let go of the guilt.”

“Because . . .” I fight tears as I pull his journal from under the mattress. I think of all my conversations with Matt in this book. All the things I told him so that he could have a little piece of me—my life. How I needed to keep him alive in my heart. “I needed it to keep from forgetting. I needed to hate myself ’cause the pain kept it fresh. It kept part of you alive.”

All of a sudden I’m sure I’m going to throw up. There’s something inside of me that my body needs to get rid of. “How do I do this? Let it go?”

“It’s okay to feel sad about it, but you have to let go of the guilt. It has to come from inside. You need to remember what really happened.”