Fallen Angels 06 - Immortal (16 page)

Oh, there was. But he did not have the strength for it, and more to the point, he was in the mood for a lancing.

“Nigel? Hello? Nothing to say, huh. Okay, get ready.”

There were some orders given by the savior to the two others, and Nigel felt a pressure on his hips, as if someone had straddled him and was sitting down. Then his leg was laid out flat, the pieces of bone grinding one upon the other at the repositioning.

The gag was rather useful, as it turned out, his molars sinking into it as if it were flesh.

“On three,” Jim said. “One, two…”

When “three” arrived, Nigel’s lids popped wide-open and he screamed around the fabric in his mouth, the pain so great it appeared as if he had been wrong about being unable to feel worse.

Tears speared into his eyes and fell down the sides of his face, getting into his ears and his hair, and if he could have, he would have rolled over to vomit. Instead, he began to sob, his chest jumping with every jagged inhale, his dry throat racked with his heaving.

Through the great release of sorrow, Jim’s voice cut in as if he had once again come up to Nigel’s ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

Nigel shook his head and stared at the ceiling through his wailing. He needed to pay for the hurt he had caused and for his lack of courage and faith and for the fact that he had hurt the one entity in the universe who had always stood by him.

“You sure,” Jim said grimly.

All Nigel did was nod again.

Sissy watched from three feet away as Adrian sat on Nigel to keep him as steady as possible and Jim reset the leg bones. On the left side, the archangel had two breaks, one of the calf and one of the thigh, and Adrian had to lean down and stabilize the knee after the upper problem was fixed. The arms were just as bad.

She’d had to sit out a couple of field hockey games her senior year thanks to a sprained ankle—and that had been no walk in the park. She couldn’t fathom what this must be like. She wasn’t going to turn away, however. If there was a chance for her to help, she was going to be there.

That face, though. As long as she lived—or, jeez, “lived,” she supposed—she was never going to forget the way the archangel’s lips pulled off his teeth and his jaw gritted and his eyes disappeared in folds of agony as he grimaced. And the tears.

They made her want to weep. Not just for him, but for each of them.

When it was all over, Jim was panting from the effort. Coughing, too—which, given the amount of sediment that had come across with him from Purgatory, suggested the place was like a desert. As Adrian unhinged himself from the archangel’s torso, Jim sat back and wiped his face on his shirt.

“Without X-rays,” he said, “I don’t know whether I did more harm than good.”

“He’ll take care of it.” Adrian fell back on his butt. “He could have fixed all of this had he wanted to. Ain’t that right, Nigel.”

Sissy shook her head. “But why would he—”

The archangel sat up and took the gag out of his mouth with a hand that trembled. He was as pale as a cloud, and as a shimmer fell down the front of his robing, she realized that something like diamonds were cascading to the floor.

No, they actually were diamonds. As if his tears had hardened into the precious stones.

“You good?” Jim demanded gruffly. “Anything else you need?”

“You h-h-h-have p-p-provided a s-s-sufficiency.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sissy said, bolting for the door.

Rushing through the foyer and going into the kitchen, she headed for the cabinets. Popping them open, she found empty shelf after empty shelf. She was looking for some bourbon or gin or something that could warm the guy up and calm him down—

She found the remnants of a liquor stash on the lower level next to the sink. Pulling the bottles out, she had to wipe off the labels of a couple to read them. Most appeared to have been long opened, though, so God only knew what was going on with the insides of them.

One of them still had a seal, however, and when she looked at the label, she muttered, “Gotcha.”

On the way out, she grabbed one squat glass from the counter—then thought, What the hell, everyone needed a drink.

When she reentered the parlor, she hesitated, the extent of the damage dawning on her. The place was a bomb zone, but in the words of her father, they had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Going over to the Englishman, she sat down cross-legged, arranged the glasses, cracked the paper seal, and poured out a healthy serving of the sherry.

She handed the first one to the guy who’d had his arms and legs worked on. Seemed only fair.

As Nigel’s strange-colored eyes swung in her direction, he gave her a tired smile. “You are a saint, my dear.”

She had to help him keep hold of the glass. “Isn’t that your job?”

“Alas, I am no saint.” He raised the sherry to her and bowed his head before drinking it all down.

Sissy was ready with the bottle, refilling him before pouring out glasses for herself, Jim, and Ad. And what do you know, the men murmured thanks and accepted the offering in spite of the fact that they probably considered it a little girlie.

Better than hundred-year-old gin, she’d imagine.

The four of them finished the whole damn bottle—Sissy included, even though she’d never been a big drinker even in college. And she had to admit the stuff worked. By the time the sherry was gone, there was color in Nigel’s face and his hands had stopped shaking, and he wasn’t the only one relaxing a little.

It was like having a Bunsen burner in your stomach, she thought as she put her glass down.

Jim tossed back the last of his and stared at Nigel. “I’m going to assume you’re fully returned. As in, I’m going to stay down here and keep doing what I’m doing.”

“That is my intention.”

“Intention?”

“The Creator is going to be displeased in all likelihood. But I shall take full responsibility. If there is to be a punishment, I shall accept it in your stead.”

“Devina says she’s going to tell Him it was her idea.”

“And you trust her?”

“Good point.”

Nigel looked up at the ceiling. “I shall be off then.”

“I’m not going to ask you who the next soul is.”

“Indeed? After your good deed, I am in the mood to grant you a favor.”

“No.” Jim’s expression grew hard. “I’m going to win this the right way. The way He set it up. I’ll find the soul, and she’s not getting them this time.”

“Fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind.” Nigel glanced at Adrian and gave him a nod. Then he looked over at Sissy. “My gratitude for the restorative.”

And on that note, the archangel up and disappeared, leaving nothing behind. Just like Colin had.

Sissy reached out and picked up one of the flashing white stones that had fallen to the floor. “Is this really what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” Ad said. “The tears of archangels are pretty damn fancy, huh.” The guy grunted and stood up. “I’m fucking starved. Between the drama and no lunch, I’m ready to eat the doorknobs.” He glanced around. “Lucky for me, ’cause that’s about all that’s left in here. I’m gonna hit the Seven Eleven and then make a McDonald’s run—no reason for the likes of us to eat healthy. Whaddaya want.”

Sissy put in an order for two cheeseburgers, a large fries, a high-test Coke, and a chocolate sundae. Jim wanted four Quarter Pounders with cheese and three Cokes.

“Hold down the fort,” Ad said as he limped off. “And try to do something about the windows. I think we’re supposed to get rain tonight.”

Left alone with Jim, Sissy sat and played with the little diamond she’d picked up, moving it around the center of her palm. A minute later, the sound of the Explorer backing down the driveway was louder than it usually was on account of the lack of glass.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s honest.” She looked up. “I’m glad … you came back.”

Jim rubbed his jaw, and for some reason that made her focus on his lips. Which made her wonder—what they would feel like … against her mouth, her throat, her breasts.

“I’ve got to find the next soul. I’ve got to—shit, who the hell is it gonna be? And where are they…”

She had a feeling he was talking to himself, and that was okay. The rambling gave her an excuse to look at him some more, measure his broad shoulders, his veined forearms, his—

“You’re bleeding,” she said, pointing to his shoulder.

He glanced at himself. “Who stabbed me? And why?”

“Colin. They were worried your body would … God, are we really talking like this?” She scrubbed her eyes. “Sometimes this is just too much. It really is.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sissy glanced over at the blown-out windows. The darkness outdoors was because of the sun having set, not that demon, but it was hard to feel safe with all the open frames. Then again, why did she think a couple of panes of glass were going to help.

“Are we okay here?” she said.

“I’ll put the spell back up. I guess it failed or Devina wouldn’t have gotten in here.”

“Yes.”

There was a long, awkward silence. Probably because his head was tied up in war, and hers was somewhere else entirely.

“What were you going to say to me?” she blurted.

“Huh? Sorry, I got game brain.”

As he glanced over at her, she felt foolish. “Oh, it’s okay. It’s nothing, really. Well, actually—what can I do to help? You know, with what you’re doing about Devina.”

He opened his mouth. Then clapped it shut. “I’d really prefer you stay out of this. Not because I think you’re weak, but because I am.”

“You’re weak?” She laughed harshly and eyed the way his biceps stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt. “Don’t think so.”

A strange look came into his eyes. “When it comes to you, I am.”

Sissy’s heart stopped. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He cracked his knuckles one by one. “Listen, I don’t want things to get weird, okay.”

“Oh, yeah, no, weird is bad.”

“But just so you and I are clear, I really fucking want to kiss you right now.”

What the hell, Jim thought. He might as well lay it all out there.

And as Sissy didn’t run for one of the very, very open windows, he took it as a good sign. Or … actually, a really bad one.

“So kiss me,” she said.

Jim actually recoiled. Which proved that the right woman could turn any full-grown man back into a fourteen-year-old with the right combination of words. Although that quick-fire regression was only the first part of his response. The second half?

Pure. Sex.

Fuck the kissing. He wanted to shove her back onto the hardwood floor, yank her pants down, and get inside of her. In spite of the fact that she was hardly that kind of girl and Adrian would be coming back with twelve thousand calories of fast food at any given minute.

“Or are you going to make me do it?” she asked.

“Do what,” he blurted. Christ, like he had amnesia?

“Kiss you.”

God love her, she didn’t wait for a response. She leaned in, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him to her.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as he tilted his head. “Fuck me…”

Please, oh, shit, fuck me, he thought as their lips met in the middle.

She was soft. She was sweet. She tasted like sherry.

And he took over from there.

Dragging her into his lap, he kissed her hard and held her harder. He’d wanted this for too long and for all the wrong reasons, and in the back of his head, he told himself that was why he was instant hot-’n’-heavy. Then again, maybe it was because she was just so good, so right.

He pushed himself back from her. “Shit.”

“What?” she mumbled, leaning into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how far you want this to go.” Damn it, the way she was pushing her breasts up to him, her body seemed as ready as his was. “You don’t have to do this—”

“What makes you think I want to stop.”

She put her mouth to his again, and oh, man, wrong call, but sooooo fucking right. And this time he let his tongue do what it wanted to, licking its way in, taking her. That was when she moaned his name.

He almost came in his dusty pants.

Abruptly, she pushed against him, nailing his bad shoulder with her palm. With a hiss, he broke the contact.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, wincing. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s cool. I’m going too fast—”

She settled that score by reaching down for the bottom of her shirt and whipping the whole thing over her head.

Jim’s exhale was part curse, part prayer of thanks. Until he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Sweet Mary,” he breathed as he looked at her pink-tipped breasts. “You’re going to kill me.”

“I’m done wasting time,” she said, staring into his eyes. “And I’m done wondering what it’s like. And I’m totally finished with fighting the fact that I want you.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

His heart was beating so hard, he had to give his sternum props for keeping the muscle inside of his immortal body.

Staring at her breasts, Jim dipped his head and led with tongue, at the same time he lifted her up to his mouth. As he latched onto her nipple, her head fell all the way back, and she said his name in a rough voice that was sexier than anything he’d ever heard in his life. Worshiping her with his lips, he let his hands start roaming. She was so much smaller than he was, but she seemed just as strong, jacking up against his hold, trying to get closer.