Heaven and Hellsbane (10 page)

“Enough, Fraciel,” Eli said. He shoved a hand through his sodden hair and wiped raindrops from his lips. “I have supplicated myself to you and the Council’s envoy as expected, but she is not one of us. You have no right to disparage her this way.”

The angel turned on Eli, his red hair flowing around his shoulders. “No right? I have every right to protect my brothers. To protect you from the torture you endure by her hand.”

“It’s not her fault,” Eli said.

“Then whose?” Fred spun back to me. “
She
knows. I can see it in the way she looks at you. You know, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard, feeling his ire like an open furnace in front of me. “Know what?”

“He loves you,” Fred said. “And it is destroying him. Can you fathom it? Every moment, every breath, every beat of his heart is spent in battle. Fighting the corruption of his spirit. Fighting the desire of his flesh. Fighting the seduction of his love for you, to love Father more.”

“That’s not true,” Eli said. “I love Father as I ever have.”

Fred snapped his cruel, white eyes to Eli. “But you love her more. If she felt half as much for you, she’d send you back to us before it’s too late—”

“Take him.” My stomach twisted, and pain squeezed my chest like a vise. I couldn’t breathe. “I don’t need another magister, but take Eli. Keep him safe.”

Fred turned back to me, dark red brows going high. As if his lifting mood was somehow connected to the storm, the pounding rain slowed to a light sprinkle. Eli shoved his hands through his hair, pushing it from his eyes one last time. He stepped closer, his feet sloshing in the flooded grass, putting himself between Fred and me.

“Emma Jane, don’t listen to them. You don’t have to do this. It’s too dangerous for—”

“It’s too dangerous for you.” I cupped his cheek, his skin cool, beard soft as peach fuzz against my palm. “Fred’s right. This isn’t why we were brought together. You’re not like them, like the other seraphim. You’re sweet and caring and protective. You were made to train illorum. You’ve trained the best, and that can’t end with me. But if you stay I’m afraid…I’m afraid it will end. I can’t let that happen. I can’t be the reason you fall, Eli.”

It didn’t matter what I felt for him. If he slipped, if we gave in to what we felt for each other, he’d fall. There was no way around it. He’d fall and I’d be sent to kill him. At least with his brothers he’d be safe—safe from demons, safe from gibborim…safe from me.

Fred slipped a hand over Eli’s shoulder. “Come, Elizal…”

But Eli shrugged him away and took my hands. “Leave us, Fraciel.”

I watched Fred’s pale, perfect face tense over Eli’s shoulder, his lips pressing into a flat line. But the angel bowed his head and said quietly, “We will be waiting.” And then all of the Council’s envoy vanished.

“Are you sure about this?” Eli asked me. “There’s a chance the gibborim will think I’m still vulnerable and that you’re my Achilles heel. They might hunt you to find me.”

“I can handle it. And Liam’s around if I need him. I was just trying to convince Fred and the others to keep us together. But…I changed my mind.”

“Yes. I noticed.” A smile flickered across his lips but didn’t last.

“Besides, the gibborim aren’t stupid. They have to figure you’d be back to full strength by now.” I tried to ignore my too fast pulse, pounding so hard I felt light-headed. Alone with him my body awakened, my senses tingling. I liked it, being near him.

I stepped away, out of reach.

He sunk his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “You’re right. You’ll be fine. It’s just… I should go, at least for a little while. That’s why I went alone last night.”

“What do you mean?”

Eli closed the last bit of distance between us and reached up to brush a wet strand of hair from my forehead. His fingers stroked down my cheek, making me tremble. “I know you think you’re a danger to me, Emma Jane, but the truth is, you’re the one who’s risking everything. When this is all over, when you’re human again, you’ll want a normal life—a husband, a family. As long as I’m in your life you won’t have that. I’ll never be able to give you normal.”

I hugged my arms around me, still shivering, but it had nothing to do with the cold. “Why would you even worry about things like that?”

“Exactly,” he said, crooking a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “I knew inevitably one of us would have to be strong enough to walk away. I’d thought—hoped—it would be me. I’m sorry it’s fallen to you. But it is for the best.”

I closed my eyes—squeezing them tight—tears stinging, emotion clogging my throat. I didn’t want to think about the future, about what I’d do when I was human again and could no longer see angels for what they were—when I could no longer see Eli. When I was with Dan everything was so clear, so easy. I wanted that, the normal life I could have with him. But I didn’t want to lose Eli. What was wrong with me?

Eli leaned closer, his breath warm on my face. He kissed my cheek, his lips so soft and warm, then whispered in my ear. “I will never be far. If ever you have need, just call to me and I will be at your side before my name leaves your lips.”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak. He thought I was the strong one, the one to walk away from these feelings, from what we were to each other. The truth was if being normal—having a human life—meant losing him, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to walk away.

I opened my eyes, but Eli was gone.

Chapter Ten

It took more than a week before some know-it-all angel showed up claiming to be my new magister. Not that it mattered. He could call himself Santa Claus, but that didn’t mean I’d sit on his lap.

“Listen, Jaz—”

“Jazar,” the big, mocha-skinned angel said, stepping quickly to keep up behind me. He had a deep, smoky voice that kind of rumbled when he talked. I liked that. But I kept it to myself.

“Whatever. I really don’t care if you think it’s a good idea or not. Amon is helping us find the demon who attacked Eli and that’s it.”

“Amon is a demon.”

“Why do people keep saying that like it’s news?” I shook my head and yanked open the door to the Irish Center at the edge of Frick Park. “Yes. He’s a demon, which makes him uniquely capable to locate the demon he saw attacking Eli and the others.”

Eli had left without sharing what he’d seen with me. I guess he figured my new magister would put the face of the demon we were looking for in my mind. He’d figured wrong. Jaz hadn’t been able to muster the stomach to connect his mind with my icky, corrupted illorum brain, so I was no closer to finding the bastard than I had been before Eli was attacked.

“Demons cannot be trusted. They are concerned only with serving their Fallen masters and avoiding banishment to the abyss.” Jaz shuffled in close behind me, not wanting to touch the door. The guy had a kind of germ phobia, except it wasn’t germs that freaked him out really; it was the everyday filth of humanity. Germs were fine.

“Not all demons are the same. Amon is a friend. Plus he’s in love.”

“There have been more attacks,” Jaz said. “And yet your demon friend has not reported what he knows of them.”

I stopped one step inside the door and spun back to him. “More? And you’re just telling me now?”

“I learned of it only an hour ago,” he said. “I informed you when the information was pertinent.”

I blinked at that, mouth open, then shook my head and let it go. “Fine. How many attacks? Was anyone… Did anyone survive?”

“At least twenty attacks. Likely more since I last heard,” Jaz said standing straighter, clearly satisfied that he’d finally gotten my full attention. “Fourteen magisters survived. All twenty illorum…perished.”

I swallowed hard, looking away for a minute, fighting the rush of grief and prickle of fear that threatened to smother me. I exhaled, finding my voice. “Did any report back with a description of the demon?”

If I were lucky, one of the other magisters would share his memory with me.

“The attackers were all gibborim,” he said.

Lucky. Right. What’s that like?
The angel was useless. I turned around and scanned the room, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go.

I’d been invited to do some readings at the Pittsburgh Pagans’ summer solstice celebration for my day job. It was going to be an all day event, ending with a massive ritual bonfire. Yeah, I wasn’t staying for the evening’s clothing-optional festivities. Besides, I’d picked my outfit for a specific reason—battle readiness. A sheer, sleeveless blouse over a white camisole and black, stretchy slacks. Simple and sword-friendly. Stripping it off to dance naked under a full moon wasn’t part of the plan.

The place was kind of perfect for the gathering though, with the two-story block building of the Irish Center for the indoor attractions and the four-and-a-half acres it sat on for outdoor events. The additional five hundred plus acres of Frick Park adjoining it, nearly all of it forest, was just a bonus.

I crossed the polished floor of the entryway and stepped through the double doors into the social hall. A folk band was playing on stage and people dressed in peasant skirts, puffy pirate shirts, and flowered vests mingled among the makeshift booths set up along the walls with more tables set back-to-back down the center of the room. They’d told me only a select few vendors had been invited, most of them private craftsmen, homeopathic healers, and new-age musicians.

It took a few seconds, but I spotted my booth. Even if there hadn’t been a giant poster of my face perched on a metal easel in the far corner, I would’ve figured the booth with the glittering astrological symbols decorating the deep purple back curtain was mine. They had used glitter to spell out
Madam Hellsbane
on the sign and made pentacles of every
O
in the words
Intuitive Consciousness Explorer
.

The sign was…nice and the booth’s silver symbols against the purple background really popped. But I couldn’t help my inward cringe at the overall hokey feel of it. The whole thing just screamed Psychic Friends Network. And I’m so
not
a psychic friend. But it’s not like I could tell people that my abilities to feel other people’s emotions, to hear their thoughts—were a part of my biology, like blond hair and blue eyes, and not some random gift or clever scam.

Whatever
. With Jaz fast on my heels, I made my way through the crowd to my sparkly booth. High Priestess Brenda and Don, the event’s coordinators, had said they’d set up appointments for me, but a short line of people had already formed next to the booth. My nerves itched under my skin as I hurried around the table and shoved my purse underneath.

I wasn’t late. Okay, I wasn’t as late as I could’ve been. Just like my angelic abilities, my lateness was genetic. I couldn’t help it. If my family had an entry in the dictionary, our definition would read “perpetually late.”

Jaz didn’t seem to give a crap who was waiting for me. He followed me right into the booth—brows knitting over his dark sunglasses, arms knotted across his chest. The glasses were my idea. His eyes were lighter than any magister I’d seen—almost pure white. It was just creepy.

“Demons cannot love. They cannot think beyond themselves, beyond their own fear and resentment,” Jaz said, picking up the abandoned argument and giving his back to the line of waiting customers. “The few lucky enough to survive the banishment of their Fallen masters spend their days in a panic to avoid being banished themselves, while nurturing a limitless abhorrence for humans, whom they believe are afforded unconditional forgiveness for every imaginable sin. Demons do nothing that does not first and foremost aid themselves.”

“Well, Amon’s not like that,” I said, settling into the upholstered wingback chair. He’d saved Eli and he’d been working tirelessly with Liam to discover who was behind the attacks. I’d grown to trust him after that night, and it bothered me that Jaz wouldn’t take my word for it. I grabbed the clipboard someone had left on the low end table between the two matching chairs. I had a full slate for the next three hours, plus the people waiting in hopes of slipping in between appointments or snagging any no-show spots.

Jaz couldn’t understand. He was new to being a magister. Like, shiny new: I was his first illorum. Nine days ago he’d been a straight-up seraph, untainted by human interaction. Now he was up to his neck in us, and I got the sense he felt like he was drowning most of the time.

He had the same long, silky-fine hair as all seraph when I met him. Like deep, endless space, his hair had been absolute black, though he’d shaved it off, since it looked just as strange short as it had long. He was bald now, but passed easily as human in his poorly fitted suit and oversize duster. In fact, for a six-foot-eight man he was surprisingly overlooked. It was an angel thing.

“We do not require a demon’s assistance.” He looked away, practically pouting.

“Well, unless you’re willing to show me what Eli showed you, we do,” I said and watched his nose crinkle in disgust at the thought of touching his mind to mine.
Jerk
. “Amon’s the only one who’s even gotten a glimpse of the demon and he’s got the connections we need to find him.”

Jaz sighed. “So we will use the demon to gain information. Very well.”

“Right. However you need to spin it,” I said. Baby steps into the messy world of demon hunting. Baby steps.

“Excuse me.” The woman first in line checked her watch, then propped her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But I was supposed to have an appointment at one and it’s one forty-five.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry…” I glanced at the list. “Sorry, Ann.” Then looked at Jaz. “Leave.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got work.”

He looked from me to the people in line and back again. “You have a mission assigned to you by the Council. It takes precedence over the menial tasks of human life.”

“Actually, eating tops Council missions. It’s one of those pesky menial tasks I kind of can’t live without.” I shooed him, waving with both hands. “Gotta pay for my Doritos somehow. So go. Find the head of a pin to stand on or something.”

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Jaz sulk back toward the double doors of the social hall as Ann took the chair across from mine. The huge man had nearly made it to the door before he vanished. No one else noticed.

“So what do I have to do?” Ann asked, pulling my full attention.

“Take my hands,” I said, angling my knees toward hers, hands out across the small end table between us. I closed my eyes, concentrating.

I’d grown a lot as an Intuitive Consciousness Explorer over the past year. Mostly because I’d come into my illorum powers, and now instead of just experiencing other people’s emotions, I could actually read their thoughts.

I was better at it than most illorum for some reason, which only meant I had to be more careful. Angels were forbidden to delve any deeper into a person’s brain than the thoughts that floated at the surface of the mind, the thoughts they didn’t instinctively protect. I was no angel, but my ability was part of my angelic half, so Eli had warned me the Council would figure the same rules applied. I wasn’t sure I agreed with their logic.

Being half human had given me immunity from all the other hang-ups angels had to deal with, like ignoring freewill if I had to. Maybe I shouldn’t do it, but the only thing that would really stop me was my own moral code.

I couldn’t help the smile tugging across my lips when Ann’s thoughts echoed through my head loud and clear.
I hope this isn’t a scam. If she tells me she sees a tall, handsome stranger in my future or some other stupid shit, I’m gonna scream. Just tell me if I’m getting the promotion—

“So you’re…up for a promotion?” I asked and opened my eyes.

Ann’s back straightened, brows high, eyes hopeful. “Yeah. That’s right.”

I looked away, listening.

Don’t say he’s giving it to that slut Leslie. Michael’s such a pig.

“Michael. He’s your boss?”

Ann nodded and thought,
Michael Paris.

“Michael Paris,” I said.

The woman gasped, smile brightening. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

I smiled but didn’t answer. I was already searching for the thin string of consciousness that connected Ann to her boss. There were hundreds of possibilities in Ann’s mind, like a knotted ball of yarn with countless strands stretching out into the ether—one for every person she’d ever met.

My angelic power allowed me to follow those connections. For Ann, it connected me to her boss somewhere in Pittsburgh and opened his mind to me as clearly as Ann’s.

Searching his thoughts took only seconds and with almost no effort at all I had Ann’s answers. It was almost too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy, but I ignored the tug of morality and I met Ann’s hopeful eyes. “He’s definitely considering you for the position, but…Leslie’s a possibility, too.”

“Shit.” She deflated a half inch and looked away and back again. “What if I sleep with him?”

Well that was a no-brainer. I didn’t even need to touch the guy’s mind to know what I’d find. I checked anyway. “Yep. That’d probably do it. But—”
Omigod…

My stomach dropped, rolled, and pitched like I was on the deck of the
Titanic
and we were going down. I doubled over in my chair—wrapping my arms around my gut, trying for steady, even breaths until the sickening sensation passed.

Ann pushed forward, hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

I nodded, recognizing the quick, nauseating feel of another nephilim, but it had never been this bad. The sickening rise and fall of my stomach subsided. There was something wrong—the sensation was too intense, almost painful. I looked up to scan the room, searching for the face of nausea that would match my own. If his or her presence hit me this hard, mine should do the same back.

Instinct, or maybe it was dumb luck, made me look past Ann to my booth’s sign on the other side of the table and the notepaper that now covered my picture. It was just kind of stuck there, wet, red smears at opposite corners plastering it to the poster board. I got up, walking around the table, my body numb, an intuitive dread weighing in my gut.

There were fingerprints and smudges all over it in the same sticky red liquid. It was blood; I was sure of it. But whose? I didn’t think I wanted to know. Finding a clean spot along the edge, I pulled it off and read the message messily scrawled in black ink.

Join us, or your boyfriend will.

My gaze flicked to the people waiting in line, the first few only feet from the sign. “Who left this? Who put this here?”

Confused, worried eyes met mine, all of them shaking their heads. No one had seen. No one had noticed. It didn’t matter. I knew who’d left the note. I’d felt it.
Gibborim.

“Crap.”