Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (7 page)

Japheth just walked away.

Her indignation stung the air bitter. He kept walking, sidling around the crowded dance floor towards the stairs. Pleasantries were pointless. Talking gave them the wrong idea. He’d no wish to be cruel. Just cold.

Are you insane?
That quiet devil’s whisper in his heart.
She’s nice. What’s wrong with you? Can’t stay alone forever, Jae. It’s not normal.

Frosty, he ignored that demon voice. He’d had centuries of practice at ignoring it…

Unbidden, the memory of that sexy vampire’s kiss throbbed in his blood, arousing him swiftly. He flushed, sweating. Dirty. Deceitful. Delicious, her hot mouth an evil delight. For an instant, before it scorched him, he’d tasted her tongue, bold and hungry, laced with sweet female pleasure…

You wanted her.
The sly voice caressed his skin taut.
You still do. And she wanted you. Don’t deny it.

“Just you watch me.” Above, a glass mezzanine flashed blue and green, the floor pierced by swirling lasers. Even immersed in intoxicated humanity, he could smell Dashiel, fresh earth and rain. He dodged a pair of kissing girls and headed for the spiral stairs.

A boy in a zipped black vinyl shirt stumbled on the transparent steps, distracted by Japheth’s sweet scent. Japheth picked him up, pushed him on his way. At the top, a glass bar curled around the back wall. Bottles of colored spirits gleamed on the shelves. He smelled yeasty beer, sweat, the faint medicinal twinge of opium. Heroin, most likely, or its latest demon-ashed variant,
hellcry
.

Japheth’s nose wrinkled. He’d chased the dragon, a time or two, in his younger days when Michael still ruffled his hair and forgave his transgressions with a smile. Even with his stiff angelic resistance to human drugs, the opium pipe made him sleepy and reflective.

But these modern concoctions? Evil stuff. It scoured their minds black and hollow. Made them perfect demon bait.

He drifted to the bar, following his nose. A skinny white boy, picking scabs from his arms, his dull eyes rolling. Japheth grabbed his chin, caught his gaze. “You should stop using.”

The boy laughed, spilling his beer onto his t-shirt. “Hey, man, fuck you, okay?”

“Die all you want, I don’t give a damn. But space out on that stuff, and you’re fair game for demons.”

“What
ever
.” The kid shook him off. “Fuckin’ angels. Screw your bible-thumpin’ shit.”

Japheth sighed, impatient. They didn’t get it. They never did. “Wanna see hell, kid? Let me show you.” He slammed his palm into the boy’s clammy forehead and whispered a charm.

Blue light flashed. The kid stumbled backwards and screamed.

He was still screaming when Japheth walked away.

He leaned his elbows on the warm glass bar. Bass throbbed, a desperate, off-beat rhythm that unsettled him. The barboy flicked a pierced eyebrow. “What’ll it be?”

“Tonic on ice, no lime.” Lime was an extravagance, useless for anything but the pleasure of that citrus tang. Useless pleasures were dangerous.

The barboy filled a tall glass. His tight black t-shirt said DANCE LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW, and below his shaven hairline, a tattoo read 666. Japheth dug in his pocket, but the boy waved him away. “On the house,
Señor Ángel
. The world’s ending.”

“Not while I’m still standing, kid. Have a little faith.” He tossed the boy a twenty, and walked away, swallowing half the drink in a chilly gulp. Cold, bitter. Acceptable. He needed the hydration, and the quinine would enrich his blood, strengthen his resistance to demon poisons.

After tonight’s ugly games? He’d take all the help he could get.

The glass floor flashed, scattering blue and green and pink like broken prisms. A glint of red-gold caught Japheth’s eye. Trillium, laughing like a hyena at rude jokes with a bunch of young guys dressed like drug dealers in sharp shirts and bling. Trill’s wild orange hair glistened with that eerie angel gleam,
and he draped one muscled arm around his choice for the night, a handsome kid with startling blue eyes.

Trill saw Japheth and waved, whiskey and cigarette in hand. Japheth waved back, shaking his head in mock disgust. Trill indulged in everything Japheth denied himself, and more. But that was okay. Trill was a kick-ass demon slayer, never shirking on a job or pulling the hangover card when there was work to be done.

Whatever gets you through the night.

He didn’t see Iria or Jadzia, the ladies in their Tainted gang, but it was nearly dawn. Iria had likely left already, with some arrogant, seen-it-all alpha male she could bring to his knees. And lately Jadzia had been absent, preoccupied with her own affairs.

But here was Dashiel, perched on a steel stool, bathed in liquid green light. Dark brown hair caught back in a curled iron clip, powerful warrior’s body in jeans and a white shirt, golden snake charm at his throat. He hadn’t bothered to conceal himself, and his wings spread out behind him, luxuriant brown feathers shot through with laser green and blue.

Dashiel spotted him, and grinned. “Nice vision spell. Was that your good deed for the day?”

Japheth dragged up a stool. “Is this yours? Pardon me, miss, don’t let me interrupt.”

The girl astride Dash’s lap giggled, dyed-blond pigtails bouncing. “No problem, handsome. Join us, if you want.”

Dash stroked her thighs. “Don’t let those bedroom eyes fool you, darlin’. Under that smoking-hot, fuck-me-senseless exterior, Golden Boy here has a heart of pure ice.”

Japheth sipped his tonic, and gave a cool half smile. A cute Tokyo Lolita, frilly white skirt and stockings, but her painted eyes showed keen womanhood. Her lacy white top sported a red love heart. Dash always chose the tiny ones, so much so the others teased him about fetishes and cracked midget jokes.

Fetish, hell. He’d watched Dash enough times—dirty, sure, but watching was what Japheth had instead of doing, and it steeled his powers of resistance—and he’d never once seen the big bastard really lose control. Saving it for the right woman? Not likely. Something else was going on there.

Japheth cracked his neck, but the ache didn’t ease. “Where’s Ariel?”

Dash’s girl downed a tequila shooter, and Dash fed her the lemon wedge, watching the juice drip down her chin. “He’s around. Something about urgent business…”

“And I’m all done.” Ariel shoved Japheth’s shoulder, knocking him off his stool. Big, feline, sharp eyes blacker than midnight above a violently hawkish nose. He wore dark trousers and a crisp shirt, elegant, no doubt worth a mint, but even high fashion sense couldn’t civilize this rude bastard. Half playboy prince, half hot-blooded thrill killer. “J.J., you frigid little asswipe,” Ariel said. “How’s tricks?”

“Trickier than you, by the looks. You’ve got a wet patch on your pants.” Japheth flashed a grin and resumed his seat. For all his desert-sheikh pretensions, Ariel was uncouth and opinionated. Honest. It was refreshing.

Dash cocked a sly brow. “Quick work.”

Ariel adjusted himself, wincing. His cinnamon-dark hair was tousled and damp, his dusky Arabian skin flushed warm. “We skipped the talking. Saves time.”

“Who’s in a hurry?” Dash eased his girl closer, squeezing her thighs lightly. She arched into him, eyes glowing.

Ariel snorted, contemptuous, and gulped half his G and T. “Me, usually. Warm and willing is all I ask. What’s the point in taking all night? It only makes them think you give a shit.”

“Thoughtful of you.” Japheth sipped his tonic. Ariel was Tainted for rebellion. He’d seen the unconditional love Himself lavished on the monkeys—Michael’s word, that—and hadn’t contained his bitterness. Still couldn’t. His rageful black eyes belied that. Beyond his benefit and pleasure, he’d no interest in humans.

“Yeah,” Ariel said, sharp with sarcasm. “Whatever.”

His casual cruelty was enviable. But Japheth didn’t have it in him. Better just to keep his distance.

Whatever gets you through the night.

“So,” he ventured. “Vials, Guardians, all that. What’s the story?”

Ariel shrugged. “As you’d expect. Took me a month to hunt
just one of those Guardian pricks down. Locked up tighter than a frog’s asshole.”

“So where was he?”

“She,” Ariel corrected, grinning. “Holed up in this moldy stone monastery on some mountain plateau in Bhutan. Bunch of psycho warrior monks praying for enlightenment, or some such. Keeping her satisfied, more like. Nice work if you can get it.” He ruffled his dark hair, gold rings glinting. A trio of teenage girls in tiny skirts and halters gawked at him, and he winked back. “Demonspawn everywhere, though. They’re under siege. Corpses piled knee-high, throat slitting and screams, that kinda thing. Fun and games.”

“So why doesn’t she just flash out, and get her enlightened butt down here?” Dash tipped up the bottle, gulping pale tequila neat. The worm bobbed in the bottle as he swallowed. It took a lot to get an angel drunk. “The world’s ending. Doesn’t she watch CNN?”

“No cable, no broadband. The monks don’t allow electricity. Bitch doesn’t even have a phone.” Ariel grinned maniacally at the girls, and let loose a stealthy flash of angelspell. They stumbled, disoriented. One fainted, and crumpled to the floor. He laughed. “And, the whole place is wrapped in some shady-ass demon spellwork. No flashing in or out. You can’t even fly without pinging their shit-stinking radar. I had to
walk
.” He drained his drink, crunching the ice. “Can you imagine that? My feet still hurt.”

“And?” Japheth’s nerves whetted. If even one vial was safe, the demon Apocalypse was done. They could all go home… Better still, he could go slaughter some vampires. A dark-eyed, raven-haired vampire vixen, by choice…

“And, nothing,” said Ariel. “My orders said ‘find,’ not ‘rescue.’ You know how it works. The holy crew gets the glory. I’m just the Tainted buttboy—”

“And a mighty fine buttboy you make.” Smooth, icy, lethal like a crystalline blade.

Japheth jerked from his stool, chilly with distaste. Too late, he caught the sparkling blue reflection on the floor. Inhaled that familiar sugar-ice scent…

Oh, crap.

CHAPTER 5

Sparkling wings the color of a deep glacier. Eyes so blue and cold, it hurt to look. Ice-blond hair glittering razor keen. Impossibly perfect. Perfectly impossible.

For a treacherous moment, the world stopped spinning.

“Hey, babe.” Michael grinned, brutally charming, and tweaked a stray lock from Japheth’s cheek.

Japheth averted his face, and shot Dash a poisonous glare. “You didn’t say
he
was here.”

“Wanted you to show up, didn’t I?” Dash shrugged, but his dark eyes fired a warning shot. He knew firsthand the hold Michael had over Japheth. The murderous things Michael had coaxed him to do…

Did Dash want them to kiss and make up? That’d be a snowy night in the hellpit. Disgusted, Japheth flashed out to his empty apartment.

He didn’t get there.

Dirty pavement slapped beneath his boots. Moonlight watered his eyes, green foliage, a high concrete gutter, rainbow-sprayed brick walls. The alley behind the club.

Michael regarded him coldly, arms folded. His icy wings
shed a crisp sapphire halo, tarnishing his black leather jacket with midnight blue. “Don’t run. It never works.”

Japheth’s hidden wings crackled taut, a burst of angry static, and his human disguise snapped like glass. Golden light erupted. His fists clenched, itching to punch the archangel’s arrogant face in. He’d done it, too, last time they’d met. Broke every bone in his hand.

But Michael owned him. Held his Tainted soul to ransom, halfway between heaven and hell. If he wanted redemption…

“What do you want, Michael?”
Misha
. He’d almost said the nickname, like toxic sugar on his tongue. Force of habit.

But bad habits could be broken.

A smile, silky with malice. “What, no sweet talk? Here I was thinking you’d missed me.”

“Not for a heartbeat. Out with it, I don’t have all night.”

Michael ruffled diamond-sparkling hair with one wing. “Well, if we must talk business: I have a job for you.”

Japheth shrugged, but his nerves scraped a ragged edge. His mistake with that vampire seductress had unsettled him. Surely his guilt was obvious. “Ariel can carve out your Vial Guardian. I’m busy.” And he prepared to flash out.