The Devil You Know (26 page)
Malach considered that. “No.”
It occurred to me that despite being an angel of death, Malach wasn’t the kind to just hang around hospitals, waiting for people to die. He was more the type to put people in the hospital. And I didn’t think he was there just to see me. Malach doesn’t like me that much. He must be there for Cassie. Maybe he was considering her a viable candidate for the Throne, a thought that made me want to smile. If that was true, Cassie Berger had the best guardian angel
ever
. “I’ll keep an eye on her too,” I said, and winked.
Malach didn’t say anything, and his expression did not change, but we shared a moment of complete understanding. He stared down at his feet. “Thank you,” he said as stiffly and cordially as anyone I’ve ever seen. I could tell it took a lot of pride out of him to say those words.
“It bothers you that the Throne’s empty, doesn’t it?” I said.
Malach shrugged his big linebacker shoulder. “We’re entering bad times, Nick. Everything’s changing. Everything’s . . .
wrong
.”
“Tell me about it. Any particular reason for your change of heart regarding me?”
“I just prefer the devil I know.”
Now that did make me smile. Not that he’d called me a devil, but that he trusted me at least enough to not shoot me today. That’s saying a lot, where Malach is concerned. I reached into my gift bag and retrieved the worn VHS copy of
Terminator 2
and handed it to him. I hoped he had a VCR, wherever he lived. Or maybe Malach just used osmosis to watch movies? It wouldn’t surprise me. “Just remember your promise, big guy. Hasta la vista,” I told him and started for the hospital exit.
I kept my promise. On the day the police released Vivian, I drove her, Josh and Tiger down to Indian Mountain Lake Park. I spread a blanket on the soft, springy grass by the waterside and set out some coffees I had bought from Dunkin Donuts. Josh took his coffee and let Tiger pilot him along the edge of the lake. Tiger trotted excitedly through the long fall grass, checking out the late season wildflowers and the catfish that wriggled along the edges of the shore.
Meanwhile, I set out a box of glazed, chocolate and jelly-filled donuts. “I didn’t know what kind you liked,” I confessed to Vivian. “I forgot to ask. I’m sorry.”
Vivian knelt down beside me on the blanket. She looked stunning in her skin-tight blue jeans and red halter top knotted under her breasts. She wore an adorable belly ring, a diamond stud with a little dangling pendant in the form of Maleficent from
Sleeping Beauty
. When I asked her about it, she told me Maleficent was her favorite Disney character of all time, and she wished she had gone off with the prince instead of Princess Aurora because she was much sexier, in her opinion.
I laughed at that.
She turned to me, hooked her arms around my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. It was a powerfully hungry kiss. I thought about that expression
Absence makes the heart grow stronger
and wondered what would have happened had we been parted for more than a few days. Vivian would likely have thrown me to the ground and had her way with me—not that I would have necessarily protested that. As it was, she pushed me down onto the blanket and climbed on top of me. I tried to move, to slide my hands around her beautiful warm curves, but she held me down and kissed my mouth and inside my mouth. As always, I was both pleased and surprised by her aggression.
When she finally let me breathe again I said, “I’ll bring donuts more often.”
“Silly man.”
We made out for a few more minutes like a couple of randy teenagers until Vivian’s hands began to wander toward the danger zone. It felt good, Vivian on top of me and the warm Indian summer beating down on us both. I loved how she took charge, how she called the shots in our lovemaking, but as her hand went for my cock I said, “You know, your brother could wander back at any time.”
Disappointed, she slid to one side of me on the blanket and propped herself up on an elbow. For someone who had just made me a very happy man, she looked troubled.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I keep thinking about Billie. About how this is basically my fault.”
“How is any of this basically your fault?”
She frowned. “I mean . . . I knew Billie. And Billie knew all my secrets growing up. She knew about Mr. McCarty and the janitor. I can’t help but feel that’s where all this began . . . with her looking for a way to hurt her dad.”
“The Bergers had been into magic a long, long time, Vivian. I saw the book that Billie used to read. It was centuries old. She left home specifically to find the Arcana that she’d read about in those pages. That’s extremely premeditated and not at all your fault.”
“But she might not have pursued it if she didn’t know what I could do.”
I looked at her earnestly. “Billie made her own decisions, Viv. That has nothing to do with you. You have your own path. And your own set of challenges ahead of you.”
She thought about that some before smiling at me. “So you want to come by my place tonight and help me pack? We could have some fun afterward.” Her smile was very sexy and very evil.
I had found Vivian a better apartment, one in a renovated, de-consecrated church. I was fairly certain Malach would keep his promise, but I wasn’t sure about the other angels, especially the ones under Gabe’s new regime. I knew there was going to be trouble. A lot of it. And until I’d taught her at least the rudiments of magic, I wanted Vivian safe. Unfortunately, by helping Vivian find the apartment I had inadvertently volunteered myself to help her move into it as well.
I reached for her. I cupped her cheek in my hand and ran my thumb across her wet lips. “I’ll come by after I close the shop,” I said. “But it’ll be late.”
Her smile never slipped. “Then I guess we’ll just have to concentrate on having fun tonight. Do you have handcuffs?”
“
Handcuffs?
Well, I
was
a cop.”
“Good.”
“But they hurt,” I said.
Vivian smiled slyly. “I didn’t say they were for
me
.”
“You’re bad,” I laughed, a little nervously. “I’m really not into that, you know.”
“So prudish.”
“You expect me to be a deviant sexual maniac?”
Vivian shrugged, tossing her hair over a shoulder. “You’re the Devil’s son, Nick. I don’t know what to expect.”
“I’m just a regular guy.”
“A regular guy who just happens to be a witch, a daemon and a former cop.”
“That too.” I watched her. I watched some orangey fall maple leaves drift down and catch in her hair. A honeybee drifted by. I was seeing an awful lot of bees lately, which was unusual this late in the season. It made me wonder if they weren’t Vivian’s animal familiar, which would be awfully cool—and a great deal less trouble than fauns. “It really doesn’t bother you, all this weird stuff?” I asked with genuine interest.
Vivian shrugged. “I think it’s fun.”
“Fun.”
“How many girls can say they’re the Devil’s concubine and be perfectly honest about it?”
I picked up her wrist and looked at the scars that still looked so raw and painful. Vivian said they didn’t hurt at all. I thought she was amazing. “Do you regret it yet?”
“No. Why should I regret it? I said I wanted to belong to you. I still do.”
“You might think differently when I have to . . . take over the family business.”
“You mean go to hell.”
“You’re not even afraid of that?”
“Why should I be afraid?” She reached out and ran her fingers over my face. “You’ll be the man in charge. The head honcho of the demon world.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Why does it bother you?” she asked, pulling me close against her. That made me happy again. “You’ll get to torment people like Billie Berger for millennia. I can think of worse jobs. I’m working one of them right now at the steakhouse.”
I shook my head in amazement. “Maybe I should put you in charge.”
Vivian laughed and kissed me breathless again. But in the moments before she did, I caught a hungry gleam in her eyes. Her hands started wandering again. The things I had told her had turned her on. I started wondering if something like that was good or bad, but then I just gave in to kissing her like any regular guy would.
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K. H. Koehler
is the author of various novels and novellas in the genres of horror, SF, dark fantasy, steampunk and young adult.
She is currently writing in several different novel series, including
The Kaiju Hunter
, the
Mrs. McGillicuddy Mysteries
and, secretly,
The Scorpion
series of pulp novels.
She is a freelance editor, a cover designer, a writer, a reader, an artist, a fan, a cynic, and a pet owner. Her short work has been featured on
Horror World
,
Literary Mayhem
, and in the Bram Stoker Award-winning anthology
Demons
, edited by John Skipp.
