Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) (9 page)

“Are you seriously trying to talk me up after what I just found out?”

“No missed opportunities, no regrets.” He jerked his head back towards the entry to the home. “Go. Call a cab and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Will it hurt her?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Riona turned to her mother, who still looked as panicked as a pincushion, and leaned over to her. She gave the trembling woman one quick peck on her cheek. “Momma, I’m sorry. Jerry’s going to make it go away. I promise we’ll see each other real soon. I won’t wait as long to see you again.”

By the time the cab showed up ten minutes later, Jerry was back at her side. A nod from him confirmed that the task had been done.

“I want to say something to you,” he said as the cab rumbled in to downtown Salem.

Great, more innuendo-laced, know-it-all prattle. “I don’t really feel like talking, Jerry.”

“But you need to hear this.”

Fire lit her cheeks as she turned to him, huffing. She was pretty sure Jerry had worked another charm to keep their conversation private, but at this point, she couldn’t care less. “What? You want to tell me how you warned me? You want to rub it in my face how my mother just told me she was forced to give birth to me while being held prisoner by my dad? A man who, though I never met him, I’ve always held out hope was a decent, kind, and loving man? Well, you were right, Jerry. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have charmed my mother in to telling me the truth. I always suspected that she never wanted me. And lucky me, now I know it’s true!”

“She never wanted a
baby,
Riona. That doesn’t mean she didn’t want you.”

“Don’t try to soothe me with rhetorical mumbo jumbo.”

A bittersweet memory tugged at her when Jerry’s face contorted. Part anger, part frustration, and part embarrassment, his borrowed mug became a twin for the mask Marc himself had once worn in her presence, back a few months ago when they both found themselves in the hot tub at Dee’s gym,
sans
dressage, and fought over how to remedy the situation.

“I did tell you, and damn right too that I’m going to rub it in your face that I was right, and here’s why: For better or worse,
sweetheart,
I’ve been around a lot longer than you have. I’ve seen a lot more of the ugly part of humanity than you’ll ever know. Than I
hope
you’ll ever have a chance to know. I’ve learned to recognize the signs of danger coming, you should have listened to me.”

“Well, next time I’m setting myself up for disappointment, I’ll be sure to consult you.”

“No need to wait, you’re about to be disappointed right now.” Jerry nudged himself closer, resting himself on the hard, raised surface of the dreaded middle seat. “If you want any proof that your mom loves you, consider the fact that she’s been carrying around the facts of your birth for almost thirty years on her own. She burdened that, without your sympathy, without your understanding, without asking you to take that knowledge on yourself. And if you can’t take any joy in that—”

“Joy in
that
? Are you insane?”

“Goddess of grief, help me Riona, but there’s only two ways I know to shut up a woman, and you don’t want me to kiss you right now. So, will you please just shut your yap for twenty seconds and let me get this out?”

Her yap?
Riona considered the likeliness of getting away with stabbing Jerry with that damned dagger in the back of a Salem Yellow Cab. “Why, you imbecilic, moronic, asshole of a—”

When he kissed her, he proved himself right. It most certainly got her to shut up. Warm, wet, and surprisingly gentle, the double-edged action stunned her. She remembered the feel of Marc’s lips on her own, and was in awe of how, even though it was technically those same lips on hers now, the kiss was distinctly Jerry. Desire sparked in her, but she squashed it. Not because she thought desire in itself was a bad thing, but because she couldn’t discern if it was born out of missing Marc’s touch, or recalling how tender a lover Jerry had been back before they’d set Eden on fire.

As he pulled away, her eyes flew open, but Jerry’s stayed close. Somehow, she sensed that the tactic had backfired on him. Yes, now she was quiet, but he likewise couldn’t say a word. After a moment of biting his lips, he hurriedly let out. “I saw hellfire in your mother’s aura.”

She placed a hand over her mouth, as though that could stop the yelp she let out. “Hellfire?  In Momma’s aura. But how?”

“There’s only two ways … either the audbilious charm, meaning your mother slept with a demon. Or … Look, Riona, maybe your dad was just some random prick. Maybe your magic really does come from your mother’s side.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Progeny of demon, while rare, does happen. And once in a while, one of them is gifted with magic. Your magic, Riona … It might actually
be
from your mom’s side. Your dad could be just some worthless shmuck.”

“But, I’m a Pure Soul. I’m one of the good guys. That couldn’t be possible.”

“Being a Pure Soul isn’t about where you came from, it’s about the decisions you’ve made to get you here. “

Silence stayed between them in the cab on the way back to the train station. Back on the T, they sat side by side, but may as well have been on separate trains for all the togetherness going on between them. Until Jerry reached down and put his hand on hers.

His voice lacked all its characteristic sarcasm. “I know you think what you did is right.”

“I only—”

“Don’t. I’m not asking you to defend yourself, but I want you to be ready. Something like this doesn’t go unchecked. Ramiel is so going to shove his fist down your throat. You stand up to him. You tell him that while he’s down there, can he get that itch on your liver.”

“He’s going to know?”

Jerry suppressed a laugh. “Bastard watcher angels always seem to know it whenever a Pure Soul fucks up.”

“This knife, Jerry. It belonged to my father, then killed the man I love before offing Satan himself. Now it’s led me to see that my dad was actually a bastard, a motherfucking kidnapper. No wonder Lucifer said he knew my dad. If you’re right, if demons really can reproduce with humans, I’m starting to believe that’s what I am … The child of a demon.”

“You forget, however, Lucifer said that he knew your father, but he wasn’t in Hell.”

The witch shrugged. “Maybe my father’s something different, something evil. I’ve been reading a lot lately.” She hoped that fact didn’t key him into why. “I know there’s all sort of in-betweens that don’t belong in Heaven or Hell, things that just hang in the mortal plane and look after their own. Maybe my dad was a vampire or an incubus or Templar. But, is it weird? I still want to know. I
have
to know.” Her hand smoothed over her bag. Under the canvas, even through the gym sock, she could feel the outlines of the dagger, felt how it would fit so perfectly into the crook of her folded fist. “If I’m going to keep from throwing this damned thing in the bay or turning it on myself, I have to know how all this is connected.”

She heard him swallow. “Then answers you shall have. I know a guy, but he’s kind of hard to get a hold of. Until I’m sure he’s willing to talk to you, I’d prefer to leave it at that.”

Her little giggle sounded foreign to her own ears. “You and Dee, you always ‘know a guy.’”

“Yup, in this case, I think it’s the same one.”

Chapter 10

“What in the hell were you thinking?”

Ramiel’s fist pounded the table, leaving a shallow indent on the wood’s veneer. He exercised restraint. He was a freaking archangel. In ancient times, Big Boss outsourced the destruction of whole cities to the creatures. Surely a Broyhill oak dining set posed little challenge in comparison to Sodom and Gomorra.

“Screwing with a human’s will is a big, serious, freaking not-ever unless their life is in danger, maneuver. And then having Jerry alter her memory after the fact? Congratulations on fucking up twice in one day.”

Jerry assumed an uncharacteristically humble tone. “Ramiel, I’m sure Riona had a—”

“Can it, demon!” If it was possible for eyes to growl, Ramiel’s did so. “You, above all—and I use this term in its most technical of means—
people
knew how wrong that was. Maybe the old saying is true: you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You’re just going to stick with tried-and-true demon protocol the first chance you get, huh?”

Jerry’s eyes stayed forward as Ramiel paced the room. “I’m a pillar, remember? It’s not my call. If my Keystone needs my strength, I’ll give it to her. If she asks me to do something within my power, I feel obliged to comply.”

“I don’t fucking care if you’re name is Jeeves and Riona was the Queen of Sheba. You had no justification to follow her order. You’ve been given a second chance at free will. Don’t fucking waste it. Tell her to go fuck herself again if she tells you to do something so amazingly irreprehensible.”

Images of that very act filled his mind, and Jerry cursed himself for not making that very suggestion when the situation arose.

The angel spun to Riona. “That charm exists only to erase memories when humans see something they shouldn’t. Close family members and others already in the know are an exemption to your vow to secrecy. Nothing in your mother’s memories is considered contraband.”

“Riona’s no idiot,” Jerry countered, one hundred percent unfazed by the bull breathing before him. He’d faced down angels before—both of the revered and fallen variety—and didn’t care for all their blunt and bluster. “If she said it was necessary, it was.”

Dee, until now sitting back and watching the mayhem unfold from behind the New York Times crossword puzzle, lowered his paper. “Jerry’s right.”

Riona and Ramiel did a double take.

“What? Even broken clocks and blah blah blah …” Dee added.

Jerry sat up and grinned. “Well, looks like our little bromance is finally bearing fruit.”

“Fuck you, Romani. You’ll always be a double-dealing, opportunistic demon prick in my eyes. Pure Soul, my ass. More like Pure Suck. But I know Riona. I
trust
Riona. If that was her call, there was a fucking good reason.” Dee’s nose turned back to the print. “But she might alleviate the angels on high of their collective wadded panties if she’d just come out and say what that reason was.”

Which focused Ramiel’s attention right back on her. Again.

Boy, Jerry had pinned the tail on the donkey when he warned her there’d be a fall out, but even this seemed extreme. What happened to the good old days, when you got a slap on the wrist and your wife turned into a pillar of salt? Was there no compassion in the world anymore?

The witch closed her eyes, drew a deep, slow breath, and began. “I’m sorry. I let my emotions get away from me and asked Jerry to do something that only benefitted me personally. I shouldn’t have done it, and it won’t happen again. Magic … It’s sort of becoming a crutch whenever I’m at my wit’s end.”

A place she spent so much time in, she was worried she’d soon be expected to chip in for rent and pizza.

Puppy dogs would have been twisted by the sad, reticent expression Riona plastered on. Ramiel might have the power to cause floods and topple tree lines in his hands, but he was a sucker for a female acting all human and ashamed. As rivulets began to trickle down her face, as pathetic gurgling gulps leapt from her throat, his resolve broke. Her face fell like melting taffy, taking Ramiel’s anger with it.

“Okay, okay, nix the tears. I was just getting used to you
not
crying constantly.”

The request went unheeded. Finally, he gave up and crossed to her, taking her into his embrace. “I know you’ve gone through a lot lately, but look at it from my perspective. If two Pure Souls get themselves damned in the space of a few months under my watch, it’s going to look really bad on my performance reviews. Protect your ass and my job, okay?”

Dee lowered his paper again. “Is anyone talking about taking your place? I can’t believe one little screw up like this would be enough to justify that.”

Jerry scooted out from the table, talking through a stretch. “Yeah, but don’t forget he fucked up by being on watch when a demon joined the corp. Can’t imagine Old Gabe is too thrilled about that, is he? Well, long day and I’m beat. Riona, good night. Dee, whatever. And Ramiel, as usual, kiss my keister with your plump, heavenly yap.”

Jerry’s shirt twisted up in Ramiel’s grip. “Not so fast. We still got business to discuss.”

Patting her tears, Riona looked up in shock as though Ramiel had just declared he had decided to pursue his lifelong dream to be a competitive cheese carver. “What business?”

Tossing Jerry back in his chair, he pulled from the air a manila folder, which he then tossed on the table. Jerry opened the file and began fingering through the pages within.

“Did I miss something? When did we get cast in a community theater production of
Urban Cowboy?”

With a thrust of his arm, Dee reached out and snatched the folio out of Jerry’s grip. When he leafed through the pages, however, his reaction failed to instill fear. “Oh, can I go side saddle? You know I’m a fan of reverse cowboy, right?”

A corner of Jerry’s mouth rose. “Riona is, too.”

Which is how he ended up sucking carpet.

Regaining control of his sense, Ramiel turned to apologize to Riona for his outlandish actions, when he caught sight of her balled fist and her racing breath.

“Wait, did we all hit him?” Dee asked.

Riona turned to the demigod, kissing the back of her knuckles. “Yeah, but I’m the reason his nose is bleeding.”

Being reborn by having your soul stuffed in someone else’s meat-wrapper really fucked with your self-image. Who was he? Gaius Gallicus? Jerry Romani? A demon? A pure soul? Jimmy Hoffa? A human body was nothing more than a byproduct of a roll in the hay, an amalgamation of tissue and fluids arranged by microscopic genetic chains. If that’s what defined a person, as so many scientist believed, then he was Marcello Angeletti. Yeah, try telling that to Riona.

Stepping from the shower, Jerry grabbed the hand towel next to the sink, using it to dab his eyes. His fingers accidentally grazed his swollen proboscis, making him wince. Whatever anyone else could say of the witch, they couldn’t deny she had one mean left hook. Jerry could feel a new drop of blood sliding down his upper lip. Leaning over, he grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, wadded it up, and shoved it up his right nostril. When he caught himself in the mirror again, the other face floating behind him in the reflection came as little surprise.