Hellsbane Hereafter (3 page)

He glanced away, his cheeks warming before he looked back to me and smiled. “No. It’s nothing like the work I used to do. But I am useful, and that alone gives me satisfaction. You’re the one who is without purpose.”

I forced a smile. “I’m good.”

His brows creased again, worry etched in every wrinkle. “You’re not. You shouldn’t be hanging around these creatures, Emma Jane. You were born for greater, holier missions. Why don’t you call Daniel, or even that half-wit Irishman, Liam? Tell them you’re ready to lift a righteous sword again. Tell them you’re ready to fight at their sides.”

I turned and pushed to my feet. “I’m not leaving you, Eli. Forget it.”

“And I’m not asking you to.” In an instant he stood beside me. “I’m just asking you to distance yourself from the beings in your father’s forces. The longer you’re exposed to demons, the greater their influence over you will become. They’ll stain your soul.”

“I’m already stained.” I stepped back, putting a sliver of distance between us. “Besides, I owe Jukar. If it weren’t for him, you never would’ve known it was safe to come back, that my memories of you hadn’t been erased, and I wouldn’t try to kill you on sight.”

“I’ll repay that debt. You owe him nothing.”

That was so not true. Eli thought I’d made a deal with Jukar, my Fallen father, to stand at his side in exchange for bringing Eli back to me. Eli had taken off after his fall because he thought the seraphim, the powerful angels untainted by human contact, would follow protocol and erase my memories of him so that if we ever met again, my love for Eli wouldn’t stop me from doing my duty. I’d banish him to the abyss like any other Fallen. It hadn’t worked. Thanks to being the daughter of an archangel, they couldn’t wipe my mind.

Jukar did offer to get word to Eli, but the cost was something way worse and way more dangerous than just standing at Jukar’s side. And if I didn’t pay up, Jukar would arrange for Eli to find himself alone against a small army of illorum with none of Jukar’s followers, Fallen and demon alike, to back him up. I hadn’t technically agreed, and Eli had come back on his own when word of the offer reached him. But my father wasn’t one to meddle with the details. Maybe I didn’t officially owe Jukar, but I couldn’t just walk away, either.

“The decision’s mine, Eli.” I leaned forward the few inches to kiss him, a warm brush against his soft lips that sent a quick thrill through my veins. “I’m staying with you.”

He exhaled, feigning a resigned sigh. “Mmmm…if only I had the strength to turn you away.”

His arms tightened around me, pulling me flush to his hard body. My heart skipped. His gaze, so full of desire I could almost feel it heating my blood, dropped to my lips, and my breath caught as he leaned close and pressed his mouth to mine, taking the kiss.

My body stirred instantly, bones melting, need swelling fast within me. It’d been this way between us from the start, a fast zero-to-sixty desire that too often caught us by surprise. My mouth opened to him on instinct, feeling his tongue sweep in, tasting me, devouring me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, snuggling closer, his excitement a hard press against my belly.

“Elizal, a meeting has be scheduled for—”

Eli stiffened, shoving me behind him so fast my lips were kissing air before I realized his were gone. “Ifrit, what’s this about?”

I couldn’t blame Eli for his surprise. The chocolate-haired fallen angel stood in the doorway of my bedroom, no bells or whistles to announce his arrival. It wasn’t the first time. My house in White Oak, Pennsylvania, had become Grand Central Station for Fallen and their demon flunkies lately.

The man blinked, confused by Eli’s tone and why he’d been interrupted in the first place. “As I was saying, a meeting has been scheduled for you and Domina Hellsbane with the archangel at ten a.m. sharp.”

Jukar insisted they refer to me by the Latin title, a form of respect. It meant master or mistress, or something. Whatever. I didn’t really care.

“It’s not even five.” Eli stepped closer toward the Fallen messenger, moving the conversation and focus further away from me. “You had to relay that information right this minute?”

The dark haired man looked from Eli to me peering over his shoulder and back again. “Yes.”

My angelic lover sighed. “Fine. Tell Jukar we’ll be there. And tell him in the future, I will not tolerate his messengers barging into our bedroom without warning.”

Ifrit straightened, puffing out his chest. “I am a member of the Inner Circle, not a messenger.”

Eli snorted, looked away, and shook his head at the mention of Jukar’s Fallen version of the Council of Seven. “Just tell him.”

The uppity angel huffed, then left so quickly human eyes couldn’t track him. I could, though, and I kicked myself for the gazillionth time for agreeing to Jukar’s open-door policy to prove my loyalty.

The random pop-in visits seriously cramped my love life.

Chapter Two

The fact that a fallen archangel has very humanlike business offices in New York City and conducts his business on the open market with unsuspecting humans every day using the full capacity of his angelic power to advance his success is shudder-worthy enough. What’s worse is he’s not the only Fallen making a living this way.

Since Eli and I could travel at nearly the speed of thought, we left my home in the suburbs of Pittsburgh at nine fifty-eight a.m. and arrived in New York at…nine fifty-eight a.m., although I was there a fraction of an instant before Eli. Despite his speed, the fall had taken its toll on Eli, weakening him, slowing him if only a little. We didn’t talk about it.

He was still faster and stronger than any demon and most Fallen. He was stronger and faster than all illorum, too, except for maybe one: me. Was he stronger and faster than me? I wasn’t sure. We hadn’t tested the possibility. Neither of us really wanted to know. It didn’t matter. At least not to me.

Jukar’s office building had been constructed with hundreds of powerful wards engraved into the foundation with brimstone. They ensured that anything lacking a spark of divine grace could only enter through the street-level doors, one being at a time. My father was paranoid his Fallen rivals might mount a siege. Go figure.

Humans came and went, oblivious to the supernatural fortress. And the high concentration of Fallen and demons roaming the ninty-one floors was enough to trigger most seraphim’s gag reflexes. They stayed away just to avoid the stench. Those same numbers made illorum think twice before coming anywhere near the place. Demons and Fallen were hard enough to fight one-on-one, who wanted to take on a whole building of them?

Eli stepped aside, allowing me to push through the revolving door ahead of him. I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass and saw him flinch when he crossed the threshold. He’d told me the wards didn’t really hurt to cross. He’d said it was like a small jolt of electricity, a quick shock to remind everyone where they were and who was in charge. Not that we’d ever forget.

I smiled at Kristy, the receptionist behind the semicircle, chest-high desk. She was a nephilim whose power was still dormant. My stomach performed the little drop and roll it always did when nephilim were near each other, like riding an airplane in a nosedive. I’d gotten used to it after coming to work for my father. I hardly noticed anymore, not that I was here that often, not unless I had to be. My father insisted all employees have some measure of angelic DNA. Like most angels, he was a snob that way, having always seen humans as petulant children that must be watched and cared for. Many simply resented the responsibility, Fallen and seraphim alike.

Kristy didn’t know what she was. Most nephilim live their whole lives without knowing the truth. Their Fallen fathers wipe the memory of their affairs from the minds of the human women in hopes that their offspring won’t grow up to be illorum and come hunt their asses.

Instead, Kristy believed she, and everyone around her, including me and Eli, were human, too. The lucky woman didn’t have a clue about what kind of supernatural forces surrounded her, and I wasn’t about to break her happy, normal-world bubble.

Swallowing hard around her own internal reaction to me, Kristy’s bright smile faltered for a minute before she cheered up again. “Good morning, Mr. Eli. Is that a new coat? You look…you look great today.”

She was totally serious, even though Eli always wore the same boring, loose-fitting clothes. Always. They were a part of him, created by his mind using the same molecules he’d called together to solidify his body and house his spirit. Humans, even half humans, just never seemed to notice.

However, Kristy’s angelic half—and being around supernatural types eight hours or more a day—helped her notice Eli’s angelic beauty beneath the mundane, human facade when others didn’t. And Eli was an exceptionally yummy slice of man to notice, so I couldn’t blame her fangirl gush.

“Good morning, Kristy.” Eli gave an old-world, gentlemanly bow of his head.

Kristy tittered, her smile brightening like a six-year-old on Valentine’s Day. She shifted to the edge of her seat. If I didn’t know Eli better, I’d say he was messing with her. But no. He was just being my adorably clueless Eli. The man made common politeness downright sexy.

The twenty-eight-year-old’s attention shifted to me, smile still big. “Good morning to you, too, Domina Hellsbane.”

“Hi, Kristy.” I rested an arm on the narrow desk between us. “Remember I told you, you don’t have to call me Domina. That’s just a title my father’s…uh…
upper level
employees use. You should just call me Ms. Hellsbane, or Emma would be even better.” We had this conversation nearly every time I saw her. I still wasn’t convinced it had sunk in. The title was meant for the supernatural types. As far as humans were supposed to know, I was no one special.

“Oh. Right. I, uh, I’ll try to remember next time, Ms. Hellsbane.” Her cheeks reddened, her pale skin unable to hide even the slightest embarrassment.

With hair a shade or two lighter blond than Kristy’s and pale skin to match, I knew what that was like.

She looked over her shoulder at Dolph, the refrigerator-sized security guard standing sentry against the wall behind her. With his tree-sized arms knotted over his chest and mocha face scrunched in a glower, his deep purple, almost black, eyes shifted to Kristy.

A bubble of nervous laughter slipped out of her, and she turned back. “Anyway, um, Mr. Bedford is expecting you both. You can go right up.”

Dolph, like every supernatural who worked for my father, had a direct mental link to Jukar. Whether Kristy understood how or not, she knew what she said in front of Dolph, she was saying in front of her boss, and
he
insisted I be shown respect, never mind what I wanted.

“Thanks, Kristy.” I looked past her to Dolph, longing for the old days when standing this close to a demon meant drawn swords and a fight to the death. Not that I missed fighting, but better to fight them than share a break room. Didn’t matter how big the guy was. I was stronger, faster, and less worried about what would happen to me if I lost.

The man’s eyes met mine, and his black brows lifted a fraction of an inch, the deep scowl fading at the corners, revealing a shadow of fear. Was it because he knew I could send his ass to the abyss if I wanted? Or was he more afraid of my father than me?
Naw, it’s totally my badass sword skills.

Satisfied in my private delusions, I gave him a dismissive
tisk
and turned for the hall of elevators. Eli began at my side, though his stride quickly outstretched mine as we walked across the marble floor, and he arrived first to push the button.

It seemed like a normal weekday at The Bedford Company. People came and went, deliveries were made, and customers waited to buy their morning coffee and newspaper in the small snack shop in the lobby. In the few seconds we stood waiting for one of the four elevators, six more people arrived to wait as well. When the elevator behind us dinged, we all turned like trained dogs, hesitating long enough for the compartment to empty before piling in.

Eight of us rushed in, the Bedford building elevators holding us easily without making us feel crammed in shoulder to shoulder. Thank God. At least four of the six were demons, and this close, the stink of brimstone coming off of them made me gag on my breakfast—twice. Lucky Charms aren’t nearly as good the second time around.

The ride to the top floor took five minutes while we stopped on floor after floor to let people on and off. By the time the doors slid open on the eightieth floor, it was just Eli and me left inside. Two men stood waiting: one with wavy, butterscotch hair trimmed neatly above his suit collar and eyes a bright, periwinkle blue, the other a wide-faced man, square jawed, hair the same bluish black as Eli’s but peppered with gray. His midnight blue eyes narrowed on Eli, familiarity fueling his hostile expression.

Eli shifted beside me, stiffening. “Marax.”

“Elizal.” The Fallen grumbled his name, then stepped onboard.

“Morning, Eli,” the other man said, his cheery tone a stark contrast to Marax’s. “Domina Hellsbane.”

“Morning, Rumyal.” I politely brightened my smile. I didn’t bother telling him not to use the Domina title. It wouldn’t do any good. There was a time being this close to a Fallen would set the illorum mark, supernaturally tattooed on the inside of my wrist, on fire. Hell, just walking into the Bedford building would’ve had me screaming my fool head off. But after symbolically joining Jukar’s ranks, he’d used his power to disarm the illorum warning response. Not sure how I felt about that.

Eli forced his brooding gaze from Marax and did his best to smile. “Good morning, Rumyal.”

It was hard to tell a Fallen’s age by looking at one. They could appear to be any age they liked and the length of time they’d been Fallen had no effect on their appearance. Rumyal looked to be in his late twenties. Marax choose to appear more mature at around forty. Eli kept his age somewhere in between, closer to his mid-thirties. They were all gorgeous, like snap-your-mouth-shut-and-wipe-up-the-drool gorgeous. At least they were to those of us who had the preternatural gift to notice.

Demons weren’t so lucky. Since the abyss destroyed their beauty first, the Fallen who pulled them out had to remake them, in a way. So they looked however their Fallen saviors decided they would look. And some Fallen were total assholes. Go figure
.

“In to see the boss today?” Rumyal asked.

Marax snorted. “More likely he’s come to enjoy the favor of the archangel earned by bedding his half-breed daughter. You always did know best how to endear yourself to those in power. A clever play to grasp a fair amount for yourself.”

Like all Fallen, Jukar had lost a great deal of his strength when he fell. But being an archangel, his starting point had been considerably stronger than most, so his current level of power was still scary-strong. His minions did well not to cross him.

A subtle shift of movement rippled over Eli’s body. I didn’t need to look to know he thought of going for his sword. I put a hand on his, and Eli met my gaze.

“It’s more about his issues than you.” I squeezed Eli’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile, and his shoulders relaxed.

Marax was a member of Jukar’s Inner Circle, his Dark Council some called them. Marax was old and powerful, but I was pretty sure Eli could kick his ass. I needed Eli to play nice, though. I couldn’t risk that Jukar might renege on our deal and hand him over to the illorum himself.

Me, on the other hand, I hardly ever play nice. “Besides, he’s just jealous he’s been demoted from Jukar’s right-hand man to being his favorite little minion, now that he sees what it’s like to have a real angel at his side.”

Marax bristled, then gave an arrogant laugh. “I’m not a child, Domina. You can’t bait me with silly insults. I know where I stand with my archangel. And so does Elizal. Don’t you, boy?”

“C’mon, guys.” Rumyal shifted like a nervous cat on his feet between Marax and Eli. “You used to be brothers, friends.”

“
That
was a long time ago.” Eli’s gaze flicked to Marax before returning to Rumyal.

“We were never friends.” Marax rested a hand on Rumyal’s shoulder, though his gaze stayed fixed on Eli. “A friend wouldn’t turn his back on me the instant I lost my grace. When I needed him most.”

“We’ve had this argument, Marax. Seraphim were forbidden to acknowledge Fallen,” Eli said, no longer willing to look him in the eye. “You don’t know how I suffered your loss.”

Except that he did know what it was like to feel the loss of a fallen brother. They all did. Every Fallen, save the first to fall, knew the chest-hollowing loss. They’d each turned their backs on their Fallen brothers, judging them, shunning them, before giving in to their desires and falling themselves. Now they each knew that pain from the other side. They’d felt the spirit-crushing agony of having their family love them unconditionally one minute then deny their very existence the next. And yet they never ceased to be surprised when it happened to them. Arrogance, thy name is angel.

“You suffered?” Marax’s dark brows shot up. “Who the bloody hell cares how it was for you?”

“Marax, please understand—”

“You had our brothers to ease your moment of discomfort. I suffered for years alone, running for my life from the bastard children of other Fallen.”

I still didn’t really get why the shunning thing worked. As far as I could tell, nothing would happen to a seraphim who reached out to Fallen. Okay, so maybe their pure sparkly-clean spirit would get a little soot on it from associating with a Fallen. Big deal, right? But I figured it was kind of like the Amish shunning anyone who went against their beliefs. You open the door to evil, even a crack, and it’ll creep its way in until it corrupts everything.

“What about the woman you fell for?” I had to ask.

Marax’s gaze snapped to me, as though he’d forgotten in the few moments that had passed that I was there. “What difference does that make?”

I shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t have to be alone. Not if you had her.”

“She was with child,” he said as though that should be answer enough.

Yeah. It wasn’t. “So?”

He looked at me like he thought I must be slow. “I couldn’t stay with her. If the child was ever discovered by a seraph, he’d be given a sword. Living with an illorum, my banishment would be nearly inescapable.”

I folded my arms across my belly and shifted my weight to one hip. “So you abandoned the woman you loved and your unborn child just to save your own ass?” Yeah, I was judging him. So what?

“Emma Jane, tread carefully,” Eli said, trying to rein me in.

That almost never worked.

“How can you stand there blaming Eli? You made your choice. Twice. If you were lonely, I say you damned well deserved to be.”

The tall angel’s pitying expression remained, irritating as it was. His mouth opened then closed as though unsure how to simplify his point for me. “What good would my banishment do my love and her child? I would be gone just the same. My love would have to endure a grief unlike any she’d ever known, and her child would be the cause of it, having been compelled to hunt and destroy his father. By leaving them, erasing all memory of me, I spared them at great cost to myself.”