Sons of Angels (46 page)

“I’m told the new fertility clinics can work wonders. I can speed up the growth cycle so that it will gestate in one night.” He smiled. “Hand your pass back at the desk. I’ll be in touch.”

Gillian made no objection as the guards ushered her to the door. A child? Really? Did it not even occur to him to ask if she wanted one? She clenched her jaw, feeling the prick of her canines against her bottom lip. If she bore Azazel's child, would she love it or kill it? There were plenty of species that ate their young. She was certain vampires were one of them. She caught herself salivating and hurried out.

Chapter 54

“Is Jasfoup back yet?” Gillian brushed a crease from her velvet gown. “I can’t see him.”

“He’ll be along soon enough.” Julie lifted her glasses.

“I can’t believe how nervous I am. I’ve been painting for seventy years and suddenly I get an accolade?” Gillian shook her head. “Felicia remembered to say no photographs, didn’t she?”

“As far as I know.”

“'Cause that’s all we need, lots of reporters taking blank photographs.”

“There are plenty of publicity handouts with your portrait on.” Julie squeezed her arm. Here’s Jasfoup now. I can see the portal forming.”

Jasfoup materialized on the terrace at the manor, immaculately dressed in a white tuxedo. He sauntered inside. “Are we all ready then?”

Gillian tried to quell her nerves. “Near enough. Felicia’s already there, of course.”

“How’s Harold?”

Gillian rolled her eyes upward. “How do you think? He hates public events.”

Jasfoup raised an eyebrow. “Even for your solo show? Tell him to get a move on!”

“If I must.” Gillian picked up Harold’s bow tie from the table and went upstairs. “Harold? Are you decent?”

“Of course not. I consort with demons.” Harold, dressed only in y-fronts and sock suspenders, came to the door of his bedroom. “Ah! I knew you had my bow tie.”

“Actually...” Gillian saw Harold’s expression and elected not to pursue the matter. “Do you need help to dress?”

“No, I’m quite capable. I’ve been dressing myself since I was eleven.”

Gillian nodded. “So your mother said. You still wear your underpants backward.”

Harold scowled. “It’s the fashion.”

“Only for you.” Gillian gave a slight bow. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, shall I?”

“I’ll be five minutes.”

She returned to the kitchen, where Jasfoup was reviewing the three imps, each dressed for the occasion in tiny dinner suits. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.” He glared at John’s red-sequined bowtie.

“All the rage in the city, sir.” The imp scrubbed at his ink-stained fingers with an eraser.

“He looks just fine.”

Gillian smiled at Julie. She wore a red sheath dress, and the new glasses suited her. Wrack, on her shoulder again now the angels were gone, was dressed identically and winked at John.

“You were right about the glasses. An elegant solution.” She stepped forward to kiss Jasfoup’s cheek. “You look very dashing.”

“May I have the pleasure of escorting you?” Jasfoup bowed from the waist.

She bowed in return. “You may, good sir.”

Gillian snorted. “Get a room.”

“Sod you.” Julie inclined her head. “In the nicest possible way.”

Gillian nodded. “I may take you up on that. I’ve never done sisters.”

“Very droll.” Jasfoup looked toward the stairs. “Here comes Harold.”

“Shall we go?” Harold looked very different in a suit instead of his normal working leathers. “You and Julie will have to ride in the back, Jasfoup.”

Jasfoup scowled. “Why couldn’t you have got a van with more than two seats?”

“It’s illegal for you to ride in the back. Think of it as sinning.”

Jasfoup nodded. “Fair enough, then.”

* * * *

Felicia excused herself from the mayor and greeted her new family. “It’s going well.” She waved a hand around the refurbished gallery. “I’ve sold three already.”

“Excellent.” Gillian shared a glance with Jasfoup. Her paintings were made over a long period of time, each of them crafted with an incorporated portal spell. It allowed him easy access to anyone who hung one on their wall. “There’s Linda, look.”

“Linda! Come and meet my grandfather.” Julie dragged her away to meet Taliel while the imps split up to whisper sales pitches to the assembled throng. Gillian led Harold off to see her latest work,
The Destruction of Angels
.

Felicia smiled, watching Jasfoup slip cards from local call girls into the breast pockets of respectable married men. It was good to get back to normality.

* * * *

In a frozen waste in the deepest pit of Hell, where icy winds twisted around the lone figure of an immobile angel, specks of sunlight dotted the ice, reminding Raphael of the freedom she’d lost.

Daisies even bloomed in Hell.

Rachel Green

Rachel Green is a disgraceful, red-headed Englishwoman who has far too many swords for her visitors to be safe, especially as she’s well versed in the use of every one of them. She also knows several methods to dispose of a body. Not that she ever would.

Rachel’s eMail:

[email protected]

Rachel’s Website:

www.leatherdyke.co.uk

Also by Rachel Green

Laverstone Chronicles

Screaming Yellow

White Lies

Viridian Tears

Lyrical Press books are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2012 Rachel Green

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

First Electronic Edition: October 2012

ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-414-4