Fallen Angels 06 - Immortal (27 page)

He stalked over to the evil, but didn’t get too close. “You don’t want to push me on this. Sissy is off-limits.”

Devina closed her knees. Then crossed her legs. “Is she. Since when do you set the rules.”

“You want to come at me, fine. But leave her alone.”

The demon burst up to her feet and paraded over to the bar, her sky-high red pumps clipping across the marble, going silent on the area rugs.

“You are a real asshole, Jim.” She made work out of pouring clear liquid from a silver shaker into a martini glass. The olive she tossed in was army green. “You think I’m evil? What do you call a man who’s unfaithful right in front of his lover’s face, huh?”

He laughed with a hard edge. “Like you and I are fucking dating.”

“We
are
in a relationship.”

“You’re insane. I mean, like, really—you are frickin’ crazy.”

Devina went quiet and wasted some time taking a long sip off the knife-edge-sharp rim of the glass. Her glittering black eyes stayed on him the whole time.

“I had other plans for us tonight,” she murmured, “but I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

“If you’re talking about sex, that ain’t happening.”

“You’ve said that before.” Her tone was bored as she put her glass down and came around the bar. “I just want you to know that this is all your fault.”

“Excuse me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This is all on you.” Over at the silk-covered sofa, she bent down and started rifling through a big-ass black handbag. “Ah, yes, here it is.”

When she turned around to him, she was holding up … a Mercedes hood ornament and a kitchen knife.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

“You don’t recognize this?” She put the circle with its three-part division forward. “It’s from my car.”

“So go give it to your mechanic. Why do I care?”

“You are seriously underwhelming right now, you know that.” She went back over to the bar and put the thing into an ashtray. “Don’t you remember the other night?”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy trying to forget every second I’ve spent in your presence.”

She closed her eyes as if her chest hurt. But then she seemed to refocus. “You and I had one of our tiffs and I got a little aggressive with my car.”

“You tried to mow me over.”

“Yes, I did. And as it so happens, you were kind enough to leave me a little souvenir.”

Warning bells started ringing in his head as he put two and two together and came up with a whole lot of fuck-him.

But it was too late.

“And this has proved to be really handy already.”

Before he could react in any kind of proactive way, she poured some alcohol on top of the silver metal piece and spit a ball of flame at it.

Instantly, he was on fire. Even as his skin remained intact, he felt the burning down to his bones, the pain incapacitating him and sending him down onto the fake Oriental.

“You see, Jim, I’m not the one who made Sissy a part of this. The Creator did. So it’s not my fault and it’s nothing you can change.”

Writhing into a tight ball, he found no relief and so he straightened out, trying to ease the agony. In the end, all he could do was grit his teeth and try not to scream, especially as she came over, those two blood-colored stillies stopping right next to his face.

Kneeling down, she brushed some of her long hair back and put the ashtray on the floor next to him.

If he could only reach—

“Oh, no,” she said, pulling the fire out of range. “No, this is my toy. Just as you are.”

Like the sick bitch she was, she started to finger herself as she watched him suffer, going so far as to lie out beside him, her perfect breasts heaving, her body undulating as she masturbated on the rug while he grunted and cursed in pain. And then just before she orgasmed, she grabbed for his dick, stroking at him like that was going to turn him on or some shit. Weakened by the agony, dizzy from the pain, he couldn’t make his arms and legs coordinated enough to get her off him.

As she came, she said his name at the top of her lungs—almost like she was pissing on a post and hoping Sissy would magically hear her.

And then there was a moment of her just easing on back and staring at him like he was dessert. Whatever, he was about to pass out as she put her arm over her face like she couldn’t believe how fucking good that had been.

Shit, it was his only chance, and he jerked in the direction of the ashtray.

“Not for you,” she said with a smile. “No, no, that’s mine.”

Puckering her lips, she leaned down to the flames … and blew them out on a oner.

The relief was instantaneous, the burning draining out of his body the second there was nothing but a tendril of smoke over the Mercedes emblem. Except damage had been done. Even though his skin wasn’t hanging in ribbons off of him, he was burn-victim out of it, his limbs jerking spastically, his vision going in and out of focus.

“Oh, Jim, I love you.”

The tone in her delusional fucking voice was as if he’d just given her a set of pearls and a mink coat—as opposed to having gone third-degree as she YouPorn’d herself.

He was dimly aware as she sat up and fluffed her hair back into place. “So this thing gives me a lot of control over you. It’s how I made it into your bed at your house, you know. Such a shame the way that turned out—although I’m not sure I could have kept the lie up as you fucked Sissy’s body. Anywho…” She picked up the ashtray and then looked around. “This is going to take care of everything.”

Stretching an arm out, she pulled a Kleenex free of a box on the coffee table.

“I know better than to think you’re going to stand still for this, so I’m just going to take a little precaution here.” Bringing the tissue to her mouth, she spoke into the thing, then blew across the fibers once, twice … three times. “There we go.”

The instant she covered the hood ornament with the Kleenex, a huge weight settled over him, immobilizing his already weak body, keeping him down on the floor—even though ostensibly there was nothing on him.

Devina put the ashtray on the coffee table and looked down at him. “Where’s your phone, Jim?”

There was no way of answering the question, as he couldn’t open his mouth or use his tongue. The only thing he seemed capable of doing was breathing—that and having a pulse.

“I’ll just have to pat you down.”

She straddled him in those high heels and bent over him, her full breasts swaying as she ran her hands down his entire body—not just around the pockets of the jeans he’d changed into.

“No phone, damn it. But this … I think it’s best that I take your little knife. Just in case.”

With a flourish, she unsheathed his crystal dagger from where he’d tucked it into the small of his back. Bringing the weapon up to his face, she smiled like a shark.

“Were you planning on using this against me? Shit, I should have kept my bra and panties on and you could have cut them off me. That would have been hot.”

All he could do was blink, but the hatred curling in his gut must have shown, because she pulled that bullcrap pout routine of hers. “Oh, come on, Jim—we have to keep things spicy in the bedroom. It makes couples closer. I read about it in an article that was forwarded around Facebook.”

Jesus fucking Christ, the bitch was—

“Okay, so no phone—any chance you left it with your girl? Because that would be so damned convenient, you have no idea.”

Straightening, she went back over to her bag and took out an iPhone. After dialing, she put the thing up to her ear.

When the call was answered, she said grimly, “Hello, Sissy.”

Her eyes locked on his as he tried to fight against the nonexistent bars that held him down.

“I think you need to come see me.”

Jim gritted his teeth and struggled so hard his bones hurt—and the only thing that happened was that the Kleenex in the ashtray moved ever so slightly.

“Penthouse. Freidmont Hotel downtown—I’ll let the front-desk supervisor know you’re expected up here. Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “Because Jim’s about to arrive here any second, and I figure enough with the bullshit. You need to see this for yourself. And before you ask, no, it’s not a trap. In fact, I’ll bet you Jim already told you he had to go somewhere tonight, didn’t he. So get your ass down here—and be the strong female I know you want to be.”

Devina terminated the call and shook her head in something close to amazement. “You are so fucking pissed off right now, aren’t you. But you can’t say a thing, you can’t do a thing about it. You know, I should have tried to run you over with my Benz weeks ago. This is
so
good for our relationship.”

She tossed her phone back in her purse and looked his body up and down. “And now for a change of clothes.”

With a wave of her hand, he was left naked, his threads dematerializing as cleanly as smoke cleared by a draft of fresh air.

And then something utterly horrific happened.

A surge of nausea hit him right in the gut, and it was followed by a strange vertigo, one that seemed to affect his head as well as his body.

“Holy … shit,” Devina breathed. “I am so fucking
hot
.”

It took a second to piece together what she was saying. Oh …
fuck
…

“We’re going to have to allow you a little movement, I don’t want me to look dead.” She directed a stare at the ashtray … and suddenly he could, if he really tried, lift his head about an inch off the carpet. “Besides, I want you to admire my handiwork.”

Jesus Christ,
no
…

He had become Devina. He had her naked body, with her breasts and her hair, her mile-long legs, those goddamned shoes.

No! he screamed without making a sound.

“And now for my costume.”

In the blink of an eye … she became him. Everything from his growing-out fade to his broad shoulders to his heavy legs.

“What do you think?” she asked in his voice. “We should totally remember this for Halloween, right?”

Adrian could not find out she was leaving, Sissy thought as she padded down the creaky stairs, sticking to the far edges where the nail heads were to cut the noise.

On the first floor, she moved through the shadows silently, zeroing in on the kitchen. It was physically painful to see the table and its four chairs, and pass by the counter Jim had cleared off to get at her. But the keys, oh, yes, the keys to the Ford Explorer were right where Ad had put them when he’d emptied his pockets of his wallet, the Home Depot receipt, and his own phone.

She slipped outside and carefully shut the door. When she hit the lawn, she looked up, way up, to the attic. No lights glowing there. Ad had to be asleep.

And he needed to stay that way.

This was something she needed to handle on her own. Because if she got down to that hotel and found Jim hooking up with the demon? She was not going to be responsible for what she did to him. If that was what he was doing, then Jim was pure evil—what the hell else would you call a man who could say what he’d said to her, do what he’d done to her … and then go out to some other woman’s bed. Some demon’s bed.

The SUV had been parked right at the head of the driveway so that they could unload the plywood sheets, and fortunately, Ad had not locked the thing so she didn’t have to worry about the chirp of the alarm deactivating. Once she was behind the wheel, she moved the seat up so she could reach the pedals … and prayed to God the sound of the engine starting didn’t disturb the angel.

The headlights came on automatically, but the engine was relatively quiet—especially as she coasted out into the street, did a slow K-turn, and accelerated cautiously. In the rearview mirror, she double-checked the third floor.

Still no lights. And Ad was not a vampire who could see in the dark.

Thank God.

As she headed off, she knew where she was going. The hotel Devina was at was the super-fancy one downtown where the senior prom had been held. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure which exit it was off the highway. There were, like, half a dozen that dumped out into those dense city blocks full of skyscrapers.

But she was going to frickin’ find the thing.

Out of the neighborhood. Onto a surface road that took her to the Northway. And then she was speeding in the direction of Caldwell’s twin bridges.

Curling her hands on the steering wheel, her head played tennis with itself, batting contradictions back and forth: The way he touched her. What Devina said. The look in his eyes as they’d had sex. What Devina said. The sense of belonging when they were together. What Devina said.

It was like having the Williams sisters on her mental court, the opposite sides slamming balls back and forth, neither giving an inch. On some level, she couldn’t believe she was doing this, going downtown in the middle of a war for humanity’s future, just to see whether her “boyfriend” or “fuck buddy” or whatever the hell they were to each other was cheating on her with someone else.

Then again, she’d wanted normal and this was it; this precise drama happened to regular people who hadn’t done the sacrificial-virgin thing and ended up in Hell and been rescued only to go and watch their own funeral. There were millions of women across the globe who had to deal with this.

It was just … for frick’s sake … why couldn’t the “normal” she’d gotten have been more like a good steak dinner, or a night where, instead of worrying about life and death or goddamn portals to Purgatory, she watched reruns of
The Big Bang Theory
and ate Oreo ice cream out of the carton?

She got off I-87 one exit early and became trapped in the maze of one-ways. A few left turns later, however, and she was pulling up to the front of the hotel. Three flags waved above its grand entrance: an American, one for the state of New York, and a third with the place’s logo in maroon and gold on it.

There were no valets out front, but, because it was … one sixteen in the morning … there was a metered space directly across from the revolving doors.

She got out, locked the Explorer, and straightened her clothes. Although, come on, like the sweatshirt and yoga pants were going to look any less schlubby? Or be any closer to the chain mail she wished she were wearing?