Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2) (6 page)

Dark times coming.
His mentor had told him this many times. He just never believed it.

He noticed his chest was a bit constricted, and it was getting difficult to breathe. He found himself watching crowds of people on his way from the Admin building, looking for the eyes of someone too interested in him.

Am I being followed?
Another first. Summoned. Now followed.

He knew the director didn’t like him. Josh didn’t think it was necessary everyone like him, they just had to obey his commands. And since Josh had thought he was the only one to possess the vaporization skill, he’d mistakenly believed he was the most powerful angel in the Underworld. But now these recent events indicated that his unofficial title was in serious jeopardy. The title itself wasn’t important. But now Josh was required to submit to a test of his loyalty. Of all the people he would have to deliver up to Peter, it would have to be the one person he hoped he could spare.

Josh was filled with the strange desire he had not felt before. Yes, he wanted Melanie for his own. Nothing had changed on that score. But he was hoping he could keep her as his secret. Keep her human, untouched by the darkness that would alter her forever. He wanted Melanie to stay alive just as she was created, as a human, and therefore free. He’d never wanted to save a human soul before. His job was to claim them for the Underworld.

Just my damn luck.

The thought of Melanie spending any time in the director’s presence nauseated him. He could envision her being tied up, although not for pleasure as Josh was fond of doing with his female conquests. His collection of silk ties, useless to him as clothing since he rarely wore a suit except for funerals, had a place in his closet for only that purpose. Peter, on the other hand, wouldn’t use silk ties carefully chosen to bind a willing participant—he’d hurt her. She would feel pain and would beg for mercy. Josh didn’t like being the one to bring her to her own demise. She would hate him forever.

It brought a twitch to his right eye, something that had started happening to him lately. He twisted his head, cracking a stiff neck, then shook out the building tension. His arms felt awkward, too long, and his clothes didn’t seem to fit well. His feet hurt. He shrugged off the odd sensations and decided he needed an elixir to take the edge off.

Down past the transport station was a series of steps that led to Undertown, a dangerous place where any and every manner of sin could be found and was often played out in the streets for the viewing pleasure of casual passersby. He’d go there and find an elixir, maybe a little entertainment. The Underworld didn’t need a movie theater, with Undertown providing all the entertainment a good dark angel would ever want.

He shouldered his way through the crowd as he trudged down the stairwell. There had been a recent series of true deaths in the Undertown quadrant, more than Josh had remembered. Something new was going on, all over the Underworld. So maybe there was a “Coming” after all, like his sponsor and mentor, Brutus, had warned him.

Josh relaxed slightly as he inhaled the sandalwood and cigar smoke that filled the stairwell. It irritated his sensitive nose. At the bottom of the steps he let out an explosive sneeze, which wrenched his neck. He needed to get rid of the stiffness in his upper body. Nothing a good strong elixir and some recreational sex couldn’t remedy.

He made it to his favorite microbrewery, the Blue Raven. The place was packed, even though it was barely dark. A couple of nude female dancers were gyrating in a metal cage as best they could to a pounding beat. They were connected to one side of the cage with a leash and studded collar. Patrons tried to grab at their feet but often got their hands pierced with a well-placed stiletto heel. Since the angels would heal within minutes, it was all fun and games. And some were into the pain of it.

A man named Willard was the bartender and manager of the pub, although, like everything, the Underworld actually owned the Blue Raven. Private and business property rights had been disallowed hundreds of years ago. Even the citizens of the city were property of the Underworld. This was why Josh spent as much time “up top” in the human realm, where he could breathe freely and at least have the illusion of being in control of his own destiny.

Josh leaned in on the glowing amber bar, one boot on the brass kick rail, and waved down Willard. He wondered how the man got to keep his “stage” name, as they liked to call their human label.

“Hey, Josh. Been awhile, man.” Willard gave him the grip of greeting and settled his hands behind the bar, waiting for Josh’s order. The bartender’s face was pasty and pockmarked, but his lips were bright red, a sure sign he was into using RedEcstasy on a regular basis. Josh was surprised at this.
Another change.

Since the recent introduction of the raging red elixir, said to be laced with a highly addictive drug, a definite change had occurred in the demeanor of the population of the Underworld. On one hand, the red syrup seemed to heighten certain sexual urges, but it generated a craving that left the “host” begging for larger and larger doses. This lack of self-control Josh didn’t appreciate, and so stayed away from the drug.

“Willard. You old fart. You messin’ with the Red stuff?”

This drew a smile across the old angel’s face, made almost comical by the stain of red on his teeth. “If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em. Here, try one.” He poured a brew from the tap that was as red as blood, with an attractive pink head on top, and handed it to Josh.

It glowed in the dull light coming off the yellow slab of amber. Josh held it up. He had to admit, it was a beautiful color, more like that of a nice cabernet, which was where his tastes leaned.

“I’m not sure, my friend, that this is safe to drink.” Josh set the glass down on the bar and stared into Willard’s disappointed eyes. “You got any Sexual Apricot?”

Willard shrugged. “Suit yourself.” His back half turned, he poured Josh a small tumbler of thick golden liquid from a squat bottle, then placed it before Josh with a clink of glass on amber as he set it down. Even the mixture had a touch of peach in it, indicating some RedEcstasy was present.

“Willard, don’t you wash your glasses? You’ve got RedEcs in it.”

“Can’t help it. It’s in everything now. Nobody minds.” He leaned into the counter on his elbows and forearms. “Since when did you become a purist?”

That was a comment Josh didn’t expect to get. It also indicated Josh would not be able to ask the questions he was dying to ask without fear of someone else knowing about it.

“Since when did you become a Red-head? You ever remember me taking the stuff?” Josh let a bit of his red eyes flash at the bartender, who respectfully cowed and moved on to another customer.

Suddenly the raucous music was deafening to Josh. Was his hearing changing too? He scanned the room. He knew many of the faces, but the eerie green-yellow lights made the expressions grotesque representations of his acquaintances’ former selves. The Halloween-like costumes, heavy ancient scents and the obvious abundance of RedEcs everywhere. It was so strong Josh could feel it begin to take hold.

No one appeared to be particularly interested in him, so Josh decided to leave. Outside the Raven, he sneezed again. A couple of streetwalkers wearing fishnet stockings and high heels flashed open their white rabbit fur cropped jackets, displaying enormous breasts. He tried to smile with his usual savoir-faire, but had the feeling his expression looked more like a grimace. He wasn’t interested in their brand of recreation. Not any longer.

The streets were dripping with the sandalwood fog, which masked all the other unmentionable smells of Undertown, none of them pleasant. This was a place one went to get lost, but Josh knew his bearings. Still, he noticed the town had become darker, wetter, and the sandalwood scent overpowering. Liquid running down the gutters in the foggy wet street held a red tinge.

Josh heard the sound of flapping overhead. He recognized that sound. Someone had resurrected the dark winged angels that had been outlawed some two hundred years ago in an attempt to modernize the Underworld. But now someone had brought them back. Someone powerful. Things were reverting to a time Brutus had told him about, almost medieval in feel, when the Underworld had grown powerful, only to lose repeated battles in the human world to Father and his angel forces. Josh could see someone was gearing up for a fight, another great confrontation. Josh thought the plan unwise, pure folly to expect to win against the Father and his minions. No doubt this was Peter’s doing. It smacked of an ego being out of joint.

The wet street curved to the left and Josh searched the dark, wide passageway. Finally, he was finally alone. After a short walk, he came to a heavy metal gate that had a keypad at the side. Josh punched in the code and the gate clicked open, loudly.

At last, something that hasn’t changed.

He walked through garden of deep red roses he could see even in the night air. The sandalwood was less obvious here, and he could finally smell the flowers. The pleasant scent reminded him of Melanie. That spurred a little interest in his groin.

The mansion was covered in dark green ivy. In the middle of the front yard was a tall fountain with the sculpture of an angel praying, as if begging for mercy. He easily ascended the front porch, three steps at a time, then stood at the wide covered veranda on which he had spent some wonderful afternoons. Overstuffed dark green wicker furniture in bright floral prints was strewn all over the area, looking inviting, even at night. He saw movement through the window to the right—a brush of pink lace and part of a woman’s thigh.

He hesitated at the door. Maybe Helena would take in Melanie. Maybe he could make that happen for Melanie, arrange it so he could make her this offering in exchange for her turning. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him so much for what he was going to have to do. Hosting here could give her some time to herself. If Peter would allow it, if in time the director would lose interest, perhaps Josh could visit her now and then…

Abruptly the door opened, before he could knock. Helena stood before, him, as lovely as he had remembered. Her white skin and bright red hair were a lethal combination in a dark world that had suddenly grown more menacing.

“My goodness. Joshua Brandon. Love of my life. My sponsor. My sexual playmate.”

Helena always acted this way, like he was something bad for her but that she couldn’t help herself. That worked. He gave her a brief smile and said, “You forgot to say Master, my lovely.”

She grabbed Josh’s shirt, pulling him through the doorway, then closed it behind him. Her perfume made Josh’s eyelids flutter. His nose twitched, but he inhaled her intoxicating scent and let it wash over him, stirring his groin, sending the hairs at the back of his neck into prickly attention. It was good to feel the sensual again. He felt welcomed into her lusty world.

She wore a light pink peignoir, see-through, of course. Her tiny feet were encapsulated in golden tasseled red slippers that matched the color of her full red lips. Helena’s body was perfect, Josh thought. That was one of the reasons he’d chosen to turn her. Her knotted, light pink nipples touched his white silk shirt as she stepped into him. He drew her body deeply to him with an arm around her waist. She looked at him under half-lidded eyes just before their lips touched, and her soft moan as their tongues connected sent him on the sensual journey he was seeking. The universe was suddenly contained in the warm mounds of flesh his hands explored. He felt the welcome he had needed.

She took his hand and they stepped quietly up the grand spiral staircase under an antique stained glass skylight. Candlelight lit the house, and the flickering gave a golden glow to the rooms and hallway, almost bringing life to several marble statues of naked women.  The red  carpeting in the hallway was thick and plush under his tired feet.

They moved silently to large wooden double doors that she pulled open, revealing an inner chamber of peaches and blush pinks like the folds of her body. Her large four-poster bed was covered in silvery satin pillows. The room warmed by the blaze from the large heavily veined marble fireplace. He intended to spend at least twenty-four hours in her company. He needed the loving only she was capable of providing him. He needed her skin to polish his, to take out the stiffness, to ease all the rough parts. To warm him to the depths of his soul. Make him liquid again. Make him forget his future. Make him forget the charms of the little human woman.

Melanie.

Chapter 8

Melanie accepted her parents’ invitation for dinner because Felix’s father and stepmother were going to join them. She hadn’t seen the couple since Felix’s funeral. Her mother also let slip they had a friend they wanted her to meet, a single and brilliant young attorney who was her father’s law firm. She knew the evening was a setup. Melanie considered the chances her mother would  ever find anyone remotely of interest to her near impossible.  Chances he would get into her pants: zero.

Cold day in Hell.

Melanie knew her parents had bought and paid for her by getting her the little shop. She could see how her mother would think of this little dinner tonight as payback.

Why? What are you looking to get, mother?

She wore black velvet pants and a white cotton top with ruffled lace up to her collar. The old mansion was chilly, so she welcomed the long-sleeved shirt, one of her favorites, but she also added a silk vest in stripes of green and turquoise from material a friend had brought from Bali. She’d decided to wear her hair down but had curled it, something she rarely did these days. She wore the little silver heart earrings Felix had given her on the day they decided where and when the suicide was to take place. She wondered if his parents would recognize the heart-shaped earrings Felix had bought her.

The cab dropped her off at the front gate and she walked the crushed granite driveway in the sparkling night, needing a little time to herself. A red Maserati was parked behind a large black Mercedes near the entrance. She guessed the “guest” was the Maserati type, and Felix’s parents the Mercedes owners. Chattering voices came through the door as she rang the bell.