34
F
loating. Something soft and gentle brushed against my skin, and I was floating. When I regained consciousness, I was in bed. Though the curtains were drawn, I knew it was still dark out. A sliver of moonlight seeped in through a crack in the curtains and illuminated the room like a lit match.
My tongue felt fuzzy, and I swallowed in an attempt to conjure any sort of moisture unsuccessfully. “You’re up.” Jules was sitting in bed next to me, wiping a cool cloth over my head. I shivered and pulled the covers around me tighter. I felt my upper body—bandages were wrapped around my middle. All I had on was a sports bra and yoga pants.
“Water?” I rasped. He handed me a full glass of tepid water. My head was too heavy to lift on my own, and I whimpered with the attempt. Jules slipped a hand under the back of my head and raised my lips to the glass. I greedily drank the entire cup, bits of water dribbling down my chin. Jules gently wiped them away. He set my head back down after I had finished. “How long have I been out?” My voice sounded foreign. Groggy and deep.
“Not long. An hour or so. Enough time for us to move and change you.”
“Lexi?”
“She’s been dealt with.”
“Meaning what exactly . . . ?”
He didn’t answer. Just sat there, his lips pressed into a line.
The pain shooting through my body was almost unbearable. There was an aching that I had never felt before—and in over two hundred years on Earth, I’ve felt a lot of different types of pain. “Wills?” I asked, his name catching in my throat. Instinctually, I touched my sternum, the stone no longer there.
Julian just shook his head.
“I killed him.” I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stay away.
“He would have killed you first. Besides, he chose your life over his. He threw himself over you—Lexi killed him. Not you.”
“The knife alone wouldn’t have killed him without the holy water bullets.” A wave of nausea filled me, and it felt like a walnut was stuck in my throat. I gurgled a noise to which Jules reacted faster than I could regurgitate. A bucket was suddenly in front of my face, and I heaved into it. It was dark in the room, but the vomit looked thick and tar-like—blood. With a shaky hand, I touched the corner of my lips and brought my fingers to eye level. A red smear stained my fingertip. “That can’t be good,” I whispered, and Jules guided my head back down to the pillow.
“It’s going to be okay.” He made the sign of the cross over my forehead, chest, and shoulders.
The sight was laughable. A dying succubus with an angel over her body giving a blessing. I remembered the familiar face—the third man, Dejan. “Jules—the other man with you . . . he was my—”
He stared at me thoughtfully, but before I could finish, the bedroom door burst open and light from the kitchen streamed in blindingly. “She’s awake.” It was Lucien.
Several people came rushing in to my bedside. Kayce pushed past Lucien, then George and Damien, and hanging toward the back, Adrienne. Their horrified faces were all I needed to see. My outlook was not good.
George looked at Lucien. “Can’t you heal her?”
He shook his head. “These wounds are far too damaging. Demon inflicted. Even I can’t heal them.”
“She needs a human—she needs life force,” Kayce said, sitting on the other side of the bed next to me and taking my hand in hers. I could feel the clamminess of my damp skin in contrast to her dry, warm hands.
The group stood in silence, their heads hung.
“Well, let’s go get her someone,” George finally said.
Lucien snorted a bitter laugh. “And just what human is going to have sex with a dying, bloody woman? Besides—the amount of energy she needs to survive would kill any person.”
“It doesn’t have to be human.” Julian’s voice was low, almost an inaudible whisper.
“Julian, no,” Lucien growled.
“I wouldn’t die,” he said, his eyes rising to meet Lucien’s.
“An angel cannot commit that sort of treason.” Lucien’s voice was a warning, and his body language looked as though he would tackle Julian if he tried. “You would be cast out. It would be worse than death for an angel.”
Jules looked at me and ran a knuckle down my cheek. I shook my head. “I’m not worth it, Jules. Why sacrifice an angel to save a demon?”
“I have my reasons.”
Adrienne pushed herself to the front of the group. “Monica, are you still in pain? I can cast another numbing spell.”
I nodded, remembering the blissful magical anesthesia from earlier. “Please, please,” I whispered, the pain so unbearable that I could no longer differentiate between tears and sweat.
“Could you two step away from the bed for a moment?” she asked. Julian and Kayce obliged. The group took a few steps back to give her room. She took each of my hands in hers and crawled into the bed to kneel over me. She whispered in a foreign tongue again. A shield formed around us like an impenetrable bubble. I could hear the group shouting, though they sounded far away—faded voices calling for us.
I looked at her, curiously. With all the enemies I’d made, I had no idea whom I could trust anymore. “Are you an elemental, too?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m just your average witch. It runs in the family.” She knelt over me, staring in silence. “Drew really loves you,” she said, an emptiness in her eyes.
“He loved you, too,” I answered.
She laughed in a hollow way. “Past tense.”
“He thinks you cheated.”
She nodded. “I know. Damien and I had to pretend we were lovers. And we were so close to finding the killer. I couldn’t risk coming clean.” I attempted to nod, the action causing a coughing fit. I covered my mouth but could feel the blood sputtering out with each cough; my insides twisted. I could feel the bleeding inside me. Organs shutting down. Pools of blood forming in my guts.
“And, I’m sorry.” She paused, an embarrassed little smirk playing over her lips. “About your door. You’re not really a whore. I was just upset.”
If I could have laughed without it being excruciatingly painful, I would have.
She began another incantation, and the numbness soothed my body once again. I sighed, and she wiped the blood from my lips and chin. “Will you tell him? Tell him I never cheated. Explain it to him,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, and she wiped a tear from the side of her nose.
“Why don’t you?”
Her jaw stiffened. “Because . . . I’m not going to be around.”
I opened my mouth to object, and as I did she pressed her lips to mine, her tears falling to my face. A tingle coursed through my body, tendrils of magic spilling out of her into me. Her soul filling mine. With what little strength I had, I tried to push her off of me, but the soul pulled me in. It was intoxicating, and I got lost in the kiss. In her thoughts. She tasted like honey and cinnamon, and I drank her like a fine wine. Her hands were on my face, and I rolled on top, pressing my body into hers. The power. Her power. She was a good soul, angelic on the inside. Her lip had a small cut from where the glass Lexi threw hit her. I could taste the combination with my blood. I saw her childhood, growing up in South Vegas in a rough neighborhood. Her teenage years, rebellious in the way teens tend to be. The death of an older brother who raised her—gang violence. College, studying to be in the criminal justice department. Her death flashed in my eyes. Her dead body twitching in my bed. I was in this swirling tunnel—I could hear voices around me . . . far off voices screaming my name.
The bubble evaporated. The visions flew out of me like a cold gust of wind. Someone pulled me from her body—Lucien. I was in Lucien’s arms. He stroked my hair and held me to his chest. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “It was her choice, not yours.” I looked at Adrienne, pale and cold, lying in my bed where I had been a moment before. I tore the bandages from my stomach—my flesh was tan, glowing, perfect. Not a scratch on my body. The pain was gone. I whispered a shocked expression—only, it was in another language. Something ancient that to my knowledge I had never learned. It was Adrienne’s incantation language. I touched the corner of my mouth where her cinnamon blood dripped. Jules stood over her body, offering a blessing, and Damien knelt next to her, head down, shoulders shaking. I buried my face in Lucien’s chest, wishing I could hide there forever.
35
C
offee is a lot like people. In many ways, it’s deceiving. The sweetness that you smell as it brews is more often than not a fallacy. The scent of a dark roasted coffee bean promises you rich flavors with hints of chocolate and hazelnut, but if you’re not used to coffee’s deceptiveness, you’re left with a bitter aftertaste dangling at the back of your throat. To those of us who are used to it—we’ve grown a fondness for that bitter taste. It’s complex. It’s teasing. It reminds us that most things in life are not consistently sweet with every sip. One morning, your coffee might brew mild with just a flirtation of nutty undertones. And the next morning, it might be pelting you in the face with those same nuts, leaving little stinging marks with each sip. It’s moody. It’s not easy to perfect. But when you get the perfect brew, it’s rewarding. And that same perfection is not guaranteed tomorrow just because you managed it today.
I stared into my mug of coffee—its flavor was a lot like my mood today. Muddy. I swallowed another sip, hoping the flavor had improved from moments before. The bitter, acidic sting hit the back of my throat. I looked over at Drew, who was clomping around behind the bar. He was still off his game. It was as though the coffee was brewing angrily, and each sip I took I was swallowing Drew’s pain and frustration.
I untied my apron and walked over to the bar. The place was practically empty. Just Drew, me—and one old man sitting in the corner sipping a tea. Drew’s rag hung out of his back pocket and swung from side to side as he moved around behind the bar. I set the mug into the sink. “Maybe she’s not coming back, Drew.”
“Huh?” He grunted while lifting a shipment of baked goods just delivered.
“I said—maybe she’s not coming back.”
He shook his head. “Her letter said she was.”
I sighed and ran my hand over my face. I shifted my makeup so that it didn’t smear as I did so. I didn’t know quite why yet, but I was given strict orders not to tell Drew of Adrienne’s death. They said they would “handle it.” Whatever that meant.
He pounded his fist on the counter. “She had an explanation all along and I—I wouldn’t even listen. I was too pigheaded to hear her out.”
I shrugged, trying my best to ignore the stinging pain in my chest. I didn’t want him to love her. I didn’t want him to have regret about our one night together. But she saved my life—and he deserved to know just how good she was.
“For what it’s worth—I know what you saw . . .
see
in her now. I finally saw her good side, too.”
“You did? When?”
“Oh—she, um, came to me before she was sent off on this case. She wasn’t sure you’d even read her note. She wanted to make sure you knew the truth.”
He nodded. “You didn’t tell her about us—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Of course not.”
The bells on top of the door chimed and Damien walked in, wearing his normal dress pants and button-down shirt with a fitted leather jacket over top. He tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, and Drew gave him a welcoming nod. “Hi,” he said, taking the rag out of his back pocket and wiping up the counter. It was a nervous habit of his—Drew was notorious for cleaning when antsy.
“Hello.” He nodded to Drew and looked at me, his eyes traveling down my body to my shoes, then back to my eyes. “You look . . . better.” There was a hardness to his jaw. Sure, he found me hot . . . but I had killed his partner and friend. That’s not exactly something you get over right away.
I nodded and mustered up the faintest flicker of a smile. “I am, thanks.” I looked at Drew, who was staring curiously at me. “I had a small stomach bug yesterday. Nothing big.”
“Could I get a coffee to go?” Damien asked.
Drew turned his back to fix the coffee and I gave Damien a wide-eyed stare. “Don’t get the coffee!” I whispered.
He leaned against the bar, not looking me in the eyes anymore. A hard line was set on his jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.”
The guys exchanged money and coffee, and Damien glared at me as he raised the cup to his lips and gulped back the biting coffee. His eyes grew slightly wider and it seemed to take him a second to swallow it down. Fine, I got it. He was making a point. Men are such dicks sometimes. He pushed off the bar and gave a salute to Drew. “I’ll see you around.” He didn’t say good-bye to me. Didn’t even look at me as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the café.
I grabbed my stuff from my locker and headed back out. “Have a good night, Drew. See you tomorrow.”
He held my gaze for a second and looked away just as I felt the same lustful sparks we’d had in the past. “’Night, Monica.”
I saw two people waiting for me, leaning against my car. Instinctually, I put a hand to my new purse. The gun still weighed heavy inside it. Knowing there was a bounty on your head makes a girl a bit paranoid, I had to admit.
“Jules!” I sighed heavily, the stress melting from my shoulders. “Oh, my Hell, you scared me!” From behind him, Adrienne stepped out. She was wearing a white flowing skirt that looked like something I had worn at Woodstock, with a brown crewneck T-shirt. “Adrienne?” I wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick. I had seen her soul—I knew she was Heaven-bound. I just didn’t realize she was angel caliber. But the glow surrounding her body was unmistakable. Her hair was no longer bleached and brittle. It was soft and luscious, cascading down past her shoulders in long, silky curls. Her face was luminous and shimmered. She looked like she stepped out of a L’Oréal commercial, and I couldn’t help but stew with envy.
She stepped closer to me, and the smell of cinnamon and honey was taken with the breeze and blown into my face. “You’re . . . you’re an angel,” I said, still dumbstruck.
She nodded and smiled. Her teeth a perfect row of glistening pearls. “Julian’s taken me in as a mentor of sorts.” Her voice was soft and melodic.
The news knocked the wind out of me. He was
her
mentor? He chose to take her in? That was my position. He was my mentor. She looked strikingly similar to me in her angel form. Without the orange skin and horribly bleached hair—there was a definite likeness. I swallowed and looked at Jules. My voice cracked as I tried to say something.
“I thought it was the least I could do, considering she sacrificed her human life to
save
you,” Jules said pointedly. Adrienne turned and smiled at him.
“Well, I wanted—
we
wanted . . .” Adrienne gestured to herself and Julian.
Oh Hell,
I thought, she was “we-ing” me. “. . . to tell you that I was okay. And I needed to let you know that when I died—I was alerted to a lot of things that I wouldn’t have known as a human.” She took a step closer to me. I was never again going to be able to put honey in cinnamon tea without gagging. “I know about your and Drew’s night together, and I just wanted to tell you—I forgive you. And Drew was so distraught that night, I wanted to thank you for keeping him away from alcohol. He really needed you.”
I wanted to laugh. And cry. “Great. No problem. I’ll be sure to open my legs again when he needs it. You just give the word.” I unlocked my car and yanked the door open. “We’re done here, right?”
Adrienne looked back at Jules, panicked. Jules shook his head. “She doesn’t mean it, Adrienne. Regardless of how brazen she’s acting now, she does have a moral code.”
“The fuck I do.” I slammed my door shut and closed my eyes until I heard the familiar
crack
of the angels leaving. I held out my hands hovering above the steering wheel and allowed Adrienne’s ancient Indo-European tongue to whisper across my lips. The car started on its own—surprising even me. I revved the gas and squealed my tires as I pulled away. I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and dialed Kayce.
“Hey girl, how are you?” she answered.
“I need to get laid. Tonight.”
“But—you just bagged the good cop. You should be good for days.”
“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth. “I don’t
need
to get laid. I
want
to get laid. By someone good. A church boy, preferably.”
Kayce was silent on the other line for a second. I could hear her breathing. Finally, she said. “Does this mean I finally have a hunting partner?”
I smirked. “You fucking bet it does.”