Beauty and the Bastard

Beauty And The Bastard by David Bridger

Atlantic Bridge www.atlanticbridge.net

Copyright ©2010 by David Bridger First published in 2010 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Beauty And The Bastard by David Bridger

CONTENTS Blurb Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen About the Author: ****

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Beauty And The Bastard by David Bridger

Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2010, David Bridger. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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Blurb Saul the Bastard is a fallen angel who works as a bounty hunter for powerful urban demon families. Rebecca Drake, a modern day demon princess, is being hunted by dangerous desert demons. When Rebecca's family hires Saul to protect her, they are both unhappy with the arrangement, but before long sparks fly as they try to resist their strong mutual attraction. For the first time in living memory, Saul has someone to love; someone he is scared of losing; someone the desert demons have marked to be their next sacrifice. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One Fenner whined for mercy as he dug his own grave. Saul's heart remained hard. "Shut up. You're embarrassing yourself." "You don't have to do this." Tears sizzled on Fenner's cheeks. Temperature flaring was the first sign of genuine distress Saul had seen in the demon, after hours of tricks and feints on the way here. Doesn't matter how long a body spends on this earth, he reflected once again. When it comes to the crunch, everyone wants longer. "No one even knows you have me. I'll triple your fee. Quadruple. I'll pay whatever you want." Saul cocked his pistol. "Throw the spade out that side and climb out this side." Fenner tried to hold him in a steady gaze as he scrambled out of the hole, but Saul avoided the hypnotic stare. "Kneel on the edge." "Please!" The demon's skin glowed fiercely. Evaporating tears and snot formed a small cloud of steam on his face. "We can both walk away. I'll disappear. I'll never tell anyone. I don't even know who you are. And there are no witnesses." "There is a witness." The demon glanced wildly around the dark clearing, eyes glowing like lava as he searched for someone lurking in the trees. He frowned, and peered into Saul's face. "You don't mean God?" 6

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Saul said nothing. "God is your witness?" Saul said nothing. "You're an angel? A fucking angel?" Saul motioned with the gun barrel to indicate where he should kneel. "Bastard." Fenner's voice was flat now, and Saul envisioned truth drowning his final flame of hope. "You're Saul the Bastard." He turned away and sank to his knees. Saul took a silent half-step to his right and aimed the gun. When the demon spun around and sprang snarling into the empty space he had occupied a moment earlier, Saul blew a hole in his head. "How was your journey?" "Fine, thanks." Rebecca wished Shirley would just stop the small talk and let her eavesdrop on her uncle's conversation with the tall stranger. "Did Carl meet your plane okay? He didn't keep you waiting, did he?" "He was there when I landed. No problem." "Those drivers get way above themselves sometimes." Rebecca tuned out her uncle's personal assistant and watched the stranger through the partly open office door. He stood with his back to her, silhouetted against the rainspattered window and glittering Manhattan nightscape that stretched into the distance. Immobile as a statue, except for small movements of his head as he followed her uncle's slow 7

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pacing, he dripped a circle of rainwater from the hem of his duster coat onto the crimson carpet. The only physical details Rebecca could make out were his height, with its suggestion of a lean build, and a wet mop of dark blond hair plastered to his head. He seemed a man of few quiet words, similar to her uncle in this respect, and when he spoke his voice rang like a bronze bell in the depths of the ocean. It was a quality Rebecca felt rather than heard. Uncle Alex opened a desk drawer and handed the stranger a plump brown envelope, which disappeared into the duster as the man turned to leave. She stepped away from the door and to one side, intending to see without being seen. But when he walked into the reception room she couldn't help catching her breath at the beauty of his sheer cheekbones and skin like cool marble glowing. He looked like no demon Rebecca had ever seen. She remembered to close her mouth just before his iceblue gaze swept across her, and then he was gone in a soft breeze of sandalwood. Shirley tutted. "Your uncle will see you now." "What was that?" "That was serious bad news." Shirley paused her nail filing. "Saul the Bastard. Bounty hunter." She arched a perfect eyebrow at Rebecca. "Don't even go there." "Rebecca!" Alex planted himself in front of the big desk, with a twinkle in his eyes and his arms stretched wide. "A hug for your poor old uncle!" 8

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This was one embrace she didn't mind. Alex had always been her favorite uncle. He'd urged her to come and work for him straight from school, and then again, when she graduated from college, guaranteeing her a good career with the Fortune family while promising his sister, he would protect her daughter from all harm. But Rebecca had been determined to make her own way. She still was, although right now she was grateful for this port in a storm. "Let me look at you!" Alex held her at arm's length and cocked his head slightly while he studied her. He's looking for signs of sadness, she supposed, and smiled brightly back at him. "It's great to see you." "Great to see you, too," he rumbled. "Now tell me about this piece of shit who's been giving you a hard time." "Nothing to tell." She avoided his piercing stare, but her vision blurred anyway and she felt herself falling under his persuasion. "Stop it!" She blinked hard and giggled. "Okay, okay. The desert demons are kicking up trouble again." He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes. "Routine crap. Nothing the family hasn't dealt with a hundred times before. Until they sent someone to get to Dad through me. And, well, y'know..." "You fell for him." She nodded. "He hurt you." His anger grew suddenly, as it always had, like a horizon of thunderclouds racing in from the ocean.

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"No! Not like you mean, anyhow. He hurt my pride, is all. But Dad's about to hit them hard and he wanted me out of the way." "Which is a shame for the Drake family, but great news for me. You can start work tomorrow morning. Come and see me around ten. Shirley will get you settled tonight. We're putting you in an apartment here in the building. Until we know how things are going to play out. Okay?" "Thanks, Unk. You're a love." "I am. Now go get some sleep. You look beat." Saul clinked his empty glass against the neck of the empty bottle in gratitude for a few hours of empty peace, and surveyed the bar room. He liked to sit in anonymous establishments, where other patrons would see a solitary man drinking steadily and leave him be. Three hours until dawn. That was plenty long enough to kill another bottle of Tullamore Dew and make it home safely, but his heart wasn't in it. Not for the first time, he wished he could enjoy alcohol for more than its taste. He wouldn't get falling down drunk. That would be stupid and dangerous. But it would be good to just take the edge off now and then. He left the oasis of warm light behind and walked towards tonight's resting place. Tonight and every night for a while, if things worked out. The Fenner job had paid enough for him to lay low for a month or two. He smiled. The three Fortune Buildings filled the next block and eclipsed the stars above, the middle one standing taller than its companions as though flipping the bird at heaven. Saul craned his neck and peered up towards his favorite resting 10

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place. It was well back from the facade and invisible from the road, which was a definite plus for him. He assumed all the demons who worked there knew about it. They probably joked about it. He didn't know who had put it there, or when, or why, and he certainly wasn't about to draw attention to his sanctuary by asking anyone. He just accepted its existence and used it, whenever he was in this city, grateful to have a high place from where he could watch the sun when it sank into the west. An hour later he scrambled over the uppermost edge and stood alongside the angel statue to look out over the city. Heavy rain had washed everything clean. The city, the streets, the building he had just climbed, and his statue: all clean. Everything was clean, except him. Someone had occupied the apartment below him, the solitary and long-vacant one just fifty feet across the empty space from where he stood. The interior was unlit, but all the drapes and two windows had been opened. A suitcase sat like a volcanic island among a spill of clothing on the dining table, and in the room next to it, he saw the shape of someone in the bed. A woman. She was the flame-haired demon he'd seen briefly in Alex Fortune's outer office the night before. She kicked the cover away like a restless child and rolled over. He watched her sleep for some moments, then dismissed her from his thoughts. She hadn't seen him on the roof. Nothing had changed. 11

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I know You can hear me. He raised his closed eyes to heaven and spread his arms wide in supplication. Is today the day You will let me come home? He waited in silence, in the same silence he'd known since a sin he couldn't remember sent him falling. He couldn't remember any of it. He'd been allowed to keep the knowledge of heaven, but not the memory of it. Not the feel of it. That was part of his sentence. That, and the silence. Not a punishment. He knew it wasn't a punishment. It was an opportunity for him to atone, a promise that it wasn't over. Nothing was over. He just had to keep on performing his task and keep on hoping in the silence. One day, he would find himself back in heaven. But not today. Today, he would spend the hours as he had spent all the daylight hours since his fall: seeing and hearing the sun, but never feeling it. Today would be another day of cold stone. He embraced the statue and became it. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two Rebecca woke to the luxury of warm nudity on silk sheets. She stretched until her fingers and toes tingled, smiled hello to the sun kissing her eyelids, and felt like purring, right up until the moment she opened her eyes and saw an angry angel glaring at her from the rooftop opposite her bedroom window. She sat bolt upright in bed and glared right back, ready to tell the freak to fuck off, and laughed aloud when she realized what it was. It wasn't glaring into her apartment. She held her hair back from her face and stood at the window to study the statue. Well, probably not. Its thousand-yard stare seemed to aim somewhere above her head. And now that she knew what she was looking at, the wide wing span felt more protective than aggressive. His sculptor had given him great abs and a good weighty dick, too. She'd never met an actual angel. Were they all hung like incubi? Who knew? She tipped a casual salute to her new friend and went hunting for breakfast. Two hours later, she thanked Shirley for stocking her kitchen cupboards so thoughtfully and breezed through Alex's open office door. She greeted him with a bright smile, and tried her best to keep it in place when she saw John sitting in one of the armchairs. Funny how these things worked out, with her all-time favorite uncle producing her all-time least favorite cousin. 13

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She'd tried. God knew she'd tried, ever since they were kids. But he'd been an irritating boy, competitive to the point of idiocy, who'd grown into this irritating man sitting there right now and smirking at her, as if he knew all her secrets. Keep it neutral. "Hello, John." He paused for a beat before answering, like the game player he was. "Rebecca." Alex glanced back and forth and grinned at them. Everyone remembered how they'd always rubbed each other the wrong way as kids, whenever the families got together for the holidays. They'd met again at a couple of weddings recently and, although they no longer baited each other or fought openly, their feelings were still plain to see. Rebecca supposed John considered her forceful and bossy. Him? Well, he made her feel...icky. "Tag along with John today, Becs." Alex sat behind his desk and shuffled some papers. "He'll give you an overview of our operation." Great. "I've been telling him about your work in Vegas," Alex said. "Your dad is very proud of you." So proud he put me on a plane and sent me away. "John does good work, too. You two have a lot in common." He tapped his keyboard to bring the screen back up. "Now get out of here and let me get on with my work." The pain started when the sun went down. Saul had trained himself to deny its inevitability, day by day, so he could enjoy those few moments when the sun's sinking glory 14

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almost touched him, when warm light filled his eyes and he almost remembered how that felt. But always, as soon as the final golden glint winked out, the pain consumed him. He felt that. He definitely felt that. Sometimes, tired and jaded and unwilling to face the daily workout, he tried to stay in the stone. He couldn't. The pain only increased until it hit screaming pitch and forced him to push free and fall to the ground, gasping and writhing in agony. Muscle cramps were the most immediate and severe pain, especially in the big muscles of his arms and legs, but they were also the ones he could deal with most easily through a combination of stretches and a good lick of salt on his tongue from the little bag in his coat pocket. Less acute, but longer to throw off, were the dull hammering headache and the pins and needles. And the headache always got worse while he drank bottled water and exercised his sluggish circulation back to life. Only when everything else was working properly and he could relax enough to breathe deeply, did the brain pain start to retreat. He'd perfected this routine a lifetime ago, but the ordeal had never gotten any easier. He sat on the low wall in front of the statue and dangled his feet over the deep drop below, watching color return to the skin on his hands and thinking about the demon in the apartment across the way. She'd stood and watched him when she woke, so intently that for a while he'd wondered if she possessed the ability to detect life. Many times in the past, other demons had paused 15

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and stared at whichever rock he occupied. They seemed to be puzzling over an unusual quality they felt in the stone. As far as he could tell, though, this one's expression and demeanor hadn't suggested anything more than sleepy staring, and after a while she'd gone about her business. He put her out of his mind. "Scotch on the rocks," John said. He glanced at Rebecca. "You?" "Same for me, thanks," she told the bartender, who smiled in return. "I can see what Alex means about the similarities in our businesses," she said to John. "Can you?" John pursed his lips in that brief dismissive gesture she'd grown to despise in a whole new way today. "Can't say I see more than a few superficial commonalities, myself." She mimicked his moue automatically and hated herself for it. "Seriously," he continued. "Do you really think running casinos can be compared to running Wall Street?" It had been a long day and she nearly took his bait. Instead, she closed her eyes to down her whisky, relishing the fire in her throat and the ice at her lips. "Seriously?" He was like a dog with a bone. A terrier. Snappy little yap. She raised her eyebrow to the barman and smiled for another round, to make John wait for her answer. "Yes. Because when you strip away differences of content and style, our operations both trade in human greed. That's 16

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the bottom line." She paused to allow the bartender to replace their glasses, and she paid him. John influencing the human to not charge him was pathetic. Powerful demons developed the ability to influence other demons, and that was impressive. But everyone could influence humans. It was how most demons made their livings, after all, and it really wasn't a big deal. Which is what made John's little trick so petty. "And actually," she went on, "we don't run them. We run the people who run them." "Yeah, I know. We never go near the action on the Street, either." She could have kicked herself. What was she thinking? Trying to have a proper conversation with him was stupid enough, but presuming to lecture him on something he knew as well as she did? Maybe even better? Gah! She was too tired for this crap. She glanced over his shoulder at the street outside and calculated how far it was to her apartment. A five minute walk. Ten, maybe. Time to make tracks and take the shower she needed after a day in his company. The man sitting alone in a booth near the window caught her attention. Even with his back to her, there was something familiar about him. Especially with his back to her. It was that bounty hunter. She was sure of it. John noticed her alertness and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh." "What?" "Saul the Bastard. You do know him, don't you?" 17

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"He was in Alex's office last night," she said, intentionally vague and wary of walking into yet another one-upmanship trap. The day had been full of them. "I never met anyone named more appropriately," John said. "He's a fallen angel, you know." No, she hadn't. Now that was interesting. "A cold bastard. Ruthless. Brutally efficient, but otherwise about as interesting as a blank canvas." John rolled scotch around his mouth, swallowed noisily and smacked his lips. "But for all that, he thinks he's better than us." "Us?" "Demons. Which is pretty funny, seeing as we're the only people who'll employ him. He respects no one. Never asks any favors and wants no friendships or alliances. He's like a machine with an attitude problem." He slid his sly look at her. "So, how come you never heard of him before? All the heads of family think highly of the Bastard's results. Surely your father uses him?" Here we go. "I'm not involved in that side of the business." "Wet work." John gave a portentous nod, as if he had deep experience in such matters. It was all Rebecca could do not to laugh in his face. "I'm only an accountant really." She slid her own version of sly right back at him. "Just like you." His jaw muscles tightened. That had hit home. Petty, but it gave her pleasure. "Let's go sit with him." She gave John a snarky grin. "Are you kidding?" His voice raised an octave. 18

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Gotcha! She'd thought the angel scared him, and now she was sure of it. "Come on. Let's find out what makes him tick." "No way." John's brittle bravado held, but she could almost hear his sphincter twitch. "Yes way. I'm going to talk to him." He shook his head. "So the stories are true." Any response would only dignify that shitty little jab, so she ignored him and took her fresh drink to the angel's booth. "Mind if I join you?" The door to the street swished shut behind John and she refrained from cheering. "Yes." "Yes, you mind? Or, yes, I may sit down?" "I mind." "Tough." She slid onto the bench, shuffled along to sit opposite him, and smiled as she raised her glass. "Cheers." He neither smiled nor spoke. He simply looked at her. Beautiful eyes like those should have more life in them, she thought. His didn't look right at all. Not dead. Just...totally uninterested. Which certainly wasn't a response she was accustomed to raising in a man. Any man. "Do you know who I am?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Even though there was nothing proud or haughty about the way she'd said it, she still hated that phrase. "Yes." So it wasn't that he thought she was some tramp trying to pick him up. Or maybe he did think that, despite knowing her 19

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family connections. Maybe that's exactly what he thought she was. Some tramp trying to pick him up. "What do you want?" She didn't think she'd ever heard anyone sound so tired and desolate before. This creature was utterly bleak. Looking into those eyes was like falling into a bottomless pit of suffering. Freaking out John had been fun, but he'd gone now and she felt totally out of her depth. "From you? Nothing at all." She left her drink on his table and walked home alone. Saul watched her for three mornings as she moved around her apartment getting ready to leave for work. Sometimes he wondered what she had wanted from him, and why, but mostly he just watched her. Watching her wouldn't damage him. When word reached him one evening that Alex Fortune wanted to meet, Saul considered leaving the city. All he had needed was a few weeks of peace. But his main task never left the front of his mind for long, and he always knew he would respond to the call. The secretary's desk was unoccupied and Alex's door was closed, which was unusual in itself. He knocked quietly. Two muffled voices stopped talking, but he'd heard enough to recognize the angry female and knew who he would see when he walked in. He didn't like the feel of this. "Thanks for coming." Alex waved him in and nodded towards the flame-haired demon. "This is my niece, Rebecca." Saul glanced at her, but her eyes never left Alex's face. "This won't work." She looked furious. 20

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"It will work." Alex's voice remained mild, but Saul had seen him in action many times and he heard the iron underneath. He had no interest in the games demons played. He broke their silent stalemate. "What do you want from me?" "People are trying to harm Rebecca," Alex explained. "Her family sent her here to Manhattan because a gang of demons were hunting her at home. Now my security people are hearing reports of strangers asking questions about her in New York. I want you to protect her." "I don't do protection." "See?" The woman sat back with a satisfied nod. "He doesn't do protection." "But you could do it," Alex said. "If you wanted to." He didn't want to, though. Not for anyone in general and certainly not for this fiery piece of walking talking trouble. "He doesn't want to." She sounded smug. "That's as may be." Alex addressed Saul directly and loaded his words with significance. "But I guarantee you'll want this job." The demon bosses all knew Saul cherry-picked his jobs, and most of them had probably figured out that the work he chose enabled him to eliminate the worst demonic excesses from the world. He saw that as his main task, and he guessed they knew it. Alex Fortune knew it, for sure. Fenner's creative accounting had become a problem for Alex, but he'd known Saul wouldn't be interested in chasing down a simple 21

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embezzler. So he'd showed Saul evidence of Fenner's active involvement in a human pedophile ring. Saul could handle being manipulated by Alex. The boss demon's nature was to manipulate everything and everyone to his advantage, but Saul felt that Alex Fortune had always played fair with him. If Saul could have made friends with a demon, if he could have made friends with anyone at all, Alex would probably be the one. He was trustworthy. "I'll do it." "What?" The fiery one shot to her feet. "Thank you," said Alex. "I already have another job on, but it's daytime only. I'll protect her at night and you can make other arrangements for during the day." "Okay." Alex looked satisfied. "Not okay!" She was losing her temperature control. "Here's the deal, Rebecca." Alex had apparently reached the end of this negotiation. "Saul will keep an eye on you all night, every night. And you'll confine yourself to this building all day, every day. This way, at least you can get out at night time. The alternative is full-time house arrest." Her mouth dropped open. "I won't allow any harm to come to you. That's it. Your choice. What's it to be?" After a moment of indecision, she snarled, "Come on, then!" She grabbed her purse and stormed from the office. Saul and Alex smiled at each other. "Look after my girl for me." 22

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Saul nodded his promise and followed in Rebecca's angry wake. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three They went to a bar in the quiet neighborhood behind the Fortune Buildings. She was still simmering about being saddled with the frozen freak, so she left him waiting for service and headed for the deeper darkness at the back of the room, feeling like an angry child and trying her best not to act like one. Options for getting out of this fix whirled through her mind, but they all ran out of road or fell off a cliff sooner or later. She was stuck with him, for now at least, so she closed her eyes and brought her temperature back under control. No point in making a show of herself. A light movement of sandalwood air announced his arrival in the booth. Sandalwood: a symbol of spiritual peace and letting-go. Yeah, she thought. Right. The seat cushion lifted beneath her when he sat down. Why there, instead of opposite? She opened an eye and shot him a look, but he didn't respond. Stating his dominance by invading her privacy? She had no idea. Two heavy-bottomed glass tumblers clinked together when he placed them next to a bottle of deep amber liquor on the table. Tullamore Dew. "You were drinking scotch the other night. This is Irish whiskey. Trust me, once you've tried it, you'll never go back." He half-filled both glasses, slid one in front of her, downed his, and refilled it.

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She couldn't help noticing his immaculate manicure. Strange, on a man who always looked like he'd just climbed down from his horse after a week riding the range. "Who wants to hurt you?" She downed her whiskey. He was right; it was rich and mellow, with a smoky aftertaste that begged for more. She reached for the bottle and batted his hand away from it. She would pour her own, thank you very much. "Desert demons." "Ah." "You know of them?" He swirled his liquor gently and stared into it. "You know what I do for a living. In the end, if they can, bad guys head for the waterless places." "They're not all bad." Gah! Again, words were out there before she'd thought them through. What was it with her and this angel? She'd have to watch her mouth around him. "Which desert?" "Mojave." "You're from Las Vegas?" She nodded. "Drake family?" She nodded. "Are you actually family?" "My father is head." "I know him. Okay. So, why don't you stop acting like I'm pulling your teeth and just tell me what's going on?" He poured himself another glass. 25

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She'd planned this bit. "You know we only deal in casinos and construction, right?" She glanced up for an answer, but got only his steady gaze. "Well, we do. But we keep an eye on other operations, too. We don't interfere, but we make sure nothing rocks our boat. One of these is a prostitution business, fronted by topless and nude dancing clubs." "Mob?" She nodded. "There's this band of desert demons who've been trying to get in on the act. You know the sort. A bunch of drifters patch up an old township. More arrive. Pretty soon they think they're big enough and ugly enough to muscle into our town. So, six months ago, the operators asked my father for help." "I heard something about it. Drake cleared them out of Vegas." "Yes. But they wouldn't take the hint, so last week the family went in heavy. Demolished their settlement and scattered them all over." "That's it? These are the guys who're after you?" "Apparently." He took several small sips of whiskey, and she thought she'd gotten away with it. "So which one of these bandits isn't all bad?" Shit. Several more sips. "You don't have to tell me. Keeping me in the dark will affect my efficiency, but there'll always be another job for me. If you die, you die." She met his blue-ice gaze. If she had to endure more humiliation, she'd do it with her head held high. 26

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"They sent someone to get to my father through me. He fooled me. I believed he was different. It nearly worked." "What's his name?" "Hawk." Was that the hint of a smile on his lips? Bastard. She maintained eye contact and dared him to scorn her. She was so ready to slap him. "Hawk." His voice was steady. "They all go by nicknames. I don't know his real name." "Describe him." "He won't come after me." "Describe him anyway." "Tallish. A couple inches shorter than you and very built. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Muscular arms with half-sleeve tattoos. Black hair, straight and shoulder-length, usually tied back. Very suntanned." Dick like a baby's arm with a Satsuma orange in its fist. "Big nose?" "What?" "His name is Hawk." "No, he doesn't have a big nose." "So what is he?" "What do you mean? He's a demon." "They sent him to seduce you, Rebecca. Is he just some pretty boy or is he qualified for the job? Is he an incubus?" The bastard must have heard the rumors. They'd been all over Vegas before she left, and if John Fortune's jibes were anything to go by, they'd reached New York before she even landed. 27

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"Yes. Yes, he's an incubus." "Are you a succubus?" "Who the fuck have you been talking to?" He looked genuinely thrown by that. "Nobody. I don't know what you mean." Could angels lie? She didn't know. But this one could certainly raise her temperature. "No, I am not a succubus." And I'm not a desert demon groupie slut either, no matter what the water cooler crowd says. "You just fuck incubi." "You're fired!" "Fine. Go tell Alex he can prepare the house arrest." She fumed in silence for some time, while he drank his whiskey and ignored her. "You really are a bastard." "So they tell me." They circled each other around her apartment in near silence. Saul tried not to get in her way, but it seemed his every attempt was doomed to failure. She was making everything more difficult than it already was, and he wondered how long she would keep this nonsense going. Rebecca Drake was interesting. He'd give her that. Her flaring temper aside, he'd glimpsed hidden depths in her while she'd tried to maneuver through his questions. The nearest she'd come to pure truth, he thought, was when she'd said she wasn't a succubus. He had no doubt about the statement itself. Her surface honesty shone clearly when she said it. But for a moment he'd seen the glow of 28

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another truth, beneath her anger and pain. Yes, she'd loved and lost; been betrayed and hurt. There was something more, though. Something deeper. He couldn't pin it down yet, but he would. One vibe he kept picking up, for sure: she wasn't comfortable about sleeping with him in the apartment. He didn't know what he could do about that, and just as the thought passed through his mind, she kind of broached the subject. "How will you manage without sleep?" "Tonight?" "Every night. While you're protecting me. And doing something else all day. When will you sleep?" She paused. "Where will you sleep?" "I don't need a lot of sleep." "What do you do at night, then? Apart from sit in bars and drink whiskey." "I walk." She shot him one of those glances that said she didn't know how to take him. He offered his 'open and honest' look in return. She picked up her coat from the back of a chair. "Let's take a walk then." For the first time in weeks, Rebecca wasn't afraid. She had no idea where they were, since they'd left the Manhattan Bridge lights way behind, but she knew that Saul knew, and she felt safe walking alongside him. She caught herself almost thinking the words companionable silence, but stopped herself from going there. Let's not forget that I feel like I'm 29

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falling into eternal pain every time I look in this guy's eyes. Still, she'd rather have him on her side than not. They hadn't spoken for ten minutes when she heard him murmur something. "What?" "Don't run, okay? Stay near me. If they can separate us, it'll make my job a lot harder." What the fuck? Every sense on high alert, she heard a car engine purring behind them. She peered up at him, rather than glancing back at the vehicle, although she wasn't even sure why that would be a bad idea. His face was hard and those eyes were ice. Whatever it was, he was taking it seriously. "You hear me? Don't run." "I hear you." A few more steps, hoping against hope that he was overreacting and the car would pass them by. A few more steps, starting to cast around for a wisecrack that would tell him she hadn't been scared. A few more steps and her heart pumped madly as the car accelerated briefly then slewed to a halt fifteen feet in front. All four doors swung open. Four demons climbed out and swaggered towards them. She recognized the tallest one as a member of Hawk's gang. Couldn't remember his name and it didn't matter anyways, because he and the other three all produced blades—two knives, a meat cleaver, and a fucking machete— and they spread out off the sidewalk, surrounding her and Saul, who stood and watched them. 30

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Stood and watched them, cool as you like, and she couldn't believe he wasn't even bracing himself to take them on. The demons grinned, all at once like wolves, like a synchronized fucking grinning team, and Rebecca wondered if she could get past the small one nearest the building. "Don't run." Fuck him and his Zen shit. She could hardly breathe, but her pulse was hammering and her temperature was soaring and she was pretty sure she could take the small one. She geared herself up for the big effort. The demons attacked Saul all together. The small one slammed into her on his way, and she skittered on her ass away from all the kicking feet and slashing blades. Saul's blades. She didn't really believe what she was seeing, but Saul wielded a broad impossibly shiny savage slashing blade in each hand and he was moving impossibly fast like a dancer and slicing and dicing the demons up like they were so many fucking vegetables falling around his feet. It was over. She panted in shock and looked up from the blood and gore on the pavement to Saul's swords, which were shrinking back and disappearing and becoming his hands again. He offered one of them to her, but she just stared at his perfect manicure in disbelief. Sirens sounded in the distance. Help was coming. He hauled her to her feet. "Run!" [Back to Table of Contents] 31

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Chapter Four Saul stood and watched Rebecca sleep. She wore ivorycolored silk pajamas that complemented her hair. Last night she'd sat on the low stool, watching him in her dressing table mirror while they talked, while brushing her hair until it shone like a prairie fire in the night. At least she'd stopped crying by then. Watching her tears from his shadowed armchair, Saul had seen the truth in her. Brashness didn't come naturally. Yes, she processed sharp thoughts rapidly, and sometimes her tongue followed those thoughts too fast for her own comfort. But aggression wasn't part of her makeup. All she'd been doing, these past few days, was maintaining a snarky barrier to keep her fear in and the fearful things out. Under the circumstances, she wasn't doing too badly. She'd wanted his promise that he would stay with her while she slept. He said it was his job, but she'd said, no, I mean stay right here, in the bedroom, while I sleep. He'd assured her it wasn't necessary. He would still be able to protect her if he sat in the living room. I won't sleep unless I know you're here, she'd said. So he gave his word and she dragged an armchair into the bedroom for him. He stood at her window for most of the night, watching the stars whirl and trying to remember their music. He couldn't remember it, any more than could the lifeless statue across the way, but he knew he'd heard it once. He believed he would hear it again. 32

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Daybreak was flying across the ocean when he bent to tell her he must leave. Her hair fanned across the pillow and framed her untroubled face. She murmured a sweet goodbye but didn't wake all the way to the surface. He hurried to his statue, and she slept on peacefully as he embraced the stone. She looked for him when she woke, thinking she'd heard him speak only a moment earlier, but he was long gone to his mysterious daytime job. Mystery man. Mystery angel. She swung her legs out of bed and offered a private smile to her statue. "There are two of you, now, but don't worry. You were my first." Talking of jobs, her first investigation at Fortune sat awaiting her attention in her new office. Someone called Fenner had been caught skimming profits, and no one knew how far back he'd started or how deep he'd gone. This was exactly the kind of thing Rebecca excelled at, and she looked forward to a day full of spreadsheets and reports and tiny hidden details. Also, she was glad to have something to immerse herself in, rather than suffer the hot wave of shame that flooded her stomach every time she remembered breaking down last night. That was so not her! She was two hours into it and starting to get a feel for Mr. Fenner when Alex called in to see how she was. "I heard about last night." "I'm okay." "Frightening, though." "Well, yes. But Saul dealt with it." 33

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Alex nodded. "He's a good man." "Hardly a man." He smiled. "I'll wager Saul is as human as any demon you know." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Angels aren't so different from us, you know. We were all one in the beginning, until we lost the war. After they threw our ancestors out of heaven, we evolved. Socially and physically. We had to. And I guess a fallen angel is in the same boat. But inside..." he tapped his chest, "...us down here are pretty much the same as them up there. None of us are very different from humans, either, when you get down to it. The only big difference is our knowledge." This wasn't the popular view of angels, but Rebecca wasn't surprised Alex had his own opinion on the subject and she assumed he knew what he was talking about. "His hands turned into swords last night." Alex's eyes widened. "Interesting. I've heard stories, but never from a credible witness like you." "Yes. Well. Not a helluva lot human about that." He chuckled as he left her office. She tried to get back to the Fenner case, but her thoughts were scattered. Eventually, she sat back and let her hands fall from the keyboard. Something about Saul was far more unsettling than his swords-for-hands, unbelievably scary though they were. It was the soul anguish she felt whenever she looked into his eyes. It hurt. It hurt her, so only heaven knew what it must feel like for him. 34

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Does he feel like that all the time? Every minute of every day? She shuddered, decided not to think about what life must be like for him, and hit the spreadsheets again. Evening light slanted through the blinds and made her office glow in shades of burnished copper before she was ready to call it a day. She'd made a good start, and reckoned she had a handle on Fenner's style. He was a clever boy, but she'd investigated lots of clever people. There was nothing new under the sun. "How's it going?" John Fortune poked his head around her door. Great. "I'm just finishing up here." "Seeing your new boyfriend again tonight?" She took in his stupid glassy grin and wished he would just fuck off. "Just fuck off, will you?" He snickered. It sounded like grease slipping down a waste pipe. "No. I'm serious, John." She gave him her steady don't mess with me look. "Fuck off. Now. You bore me so bad it hurts." His smile slipped for a moment, but he repaired it instantly and left a chuckle of wounded male pride in the air as he walked away. She gave him a minute to get clear, then locked her office door behind her and got the hell out, hurrying through the labyrinthine corridors from the main business section to her apartment and hoping she wouldn't have to endure anyone's small talk. 35

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Sanctuary. She stood at her living room window and watched her statue glow as he stared into the setting sun. The horizontal shadow of night crept up the low brick wall that hid his feet and lower legs, and continued up his body until the warm glow disappeared and he stood pale and mysterious. After gazing at him absentmindedly for some minutes more, she shook herself and decided to tidy the place up. A movement caught her eye as she turned away, like something dark falling from the statue. But when she peered across the gap between the buildings, everything looked the same way it always had. Saul turned up half an hour later, as she was getting ready to take a shower. She was glad to see him. The place felt like home with him in it. But she didn't intend to go there. And now that he was actually back, those waves of embarrassment flooded her constantly. How could she have been so weak? "Do you have a spare key?" he asked. "Why?" "I probably won't need to use it, but just in case." She frowned while unclasping her spare from the key ring, fighting her natural instinct to control her own environment. Small things, but they were mounting up. "I doubt a little thing like a lock would give you a problem." "It wouldn't, but I guess you'd give me an earache if I ruined your door." 36

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Was that a smile? Good grief. For a brief moment, there, she thought he might have smiled. Better check for the other signs of the apocalypse. "I'll stay in tonight," Rebecca told him. Saul had noticed how Alex had beefed up the building security today. The place was like a prison. Was she developing a siege mentality? It was up to her, but if she got too scared to leave the building, would there be any reason for him to tie up his nights here? "Okay. But if you want some fresh air, I will protect you." "I believe you. But after last night, I'd prefer a quiet evening in." She sounded tired. "Let me cook for you." A look of surprise. "You cook?" He gave a modest shrug. "Well, okay. See what you can find in the kitchen. I'll leave you to it." While she showered, he prepared beef steaks for the grill and tossed a big bowl of salad, listening to her sing and feeling mild envy. Everything was ready to go when she reappeared. "Would you mind if I take a shower before I cook?" Again, the surprise. Maybe she thought he stayed dirty. He knew his clothing tended towards shabby, but transformations to and from stone cleaned him and his garments every day. Still, he almost salivated right now at the thought of hot water softening his aching muscles. She curled up on the sofa, tucked her bathrobe around her legs, and flicked through a magazine. "Help yourself." 37

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The bedroom and attached bathroom were still slightly steamy from Rebecca's shower. He smelled fresh hay and grasses and honey. Her fragrances. He breathed in her presence for some moments, before twisting the shower tap and filling the tiled room with billows of new steam. The tension of his neck and shoulders always surprised him, and he zoned out for a while under the strong hot jet. But his thoughts returned to her, as they'd kept returning to her all day, no matter how many times he turned them away. Sitting just a few feet away from him, right now, glowing from her shower. Brushing her hair last night, striking sparks and shooting stars through the velvet darkness of his imagination. Holding onto his arm as if she'd never let go when they ran to safety after the attack. Standing naked in her window, smiling, using both hands to twist her hair into some kind of knot at the back of her head, her pert breasts and lovely nipples lifting towards him while the firm swell of her belly and luxurious red hair of her mound enticed him. His balls ached and his cock hurt so bad he thought it might burst. He lathered himself with soap and rubbed slowly. The pressure built from deep inside as he continued to rub his cock. In a few more seconds, he would come. He'd never gotten so close before, but he knew he'd almost reached the point of no return. He stopped. His cock throbbed and twitched. Blood pounded in his head, and his heart thudded fit to bust out of his chest. Stars danced behind his tightly closed eyelids as the dangerous rhythmical pulsing in his groin subsided. 38

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This was wrong. So wrong. When he fell from heaven, he'd gained the sexual needs and desires of a human. He didn't want them, but he'd gotten them. He'd known from the start that it would be a terrible temptation, so he'd decided to remain celibate. His ultimate destination was heaven. Return to heaven. Nothing should stop that. He wouldn't let anyone come between him and heaven. Not after all this time. Not when he might be so close. He twisted the tap savagely and rested his forehead on the tiles to let cold water blast him. Rebecca was worried. He'd been a long time in her bathroom. She'd heard the water turn off a while ago, followed by a dull thud, and then...nothing. He hadn't gone and knocked himself out, had he? She stood quietly in the middle of her bedroom and looked through the open bathroom door. He was kneeling on the tiled floor, naked, still wet, the soles of his feet uppermost and crossing each other in a cute way beneath his small rounded buttocks. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the two long blackened ridges on his back, fifteen-inch weals raised above the skin of his shoulder blades, running up and outwards from either side of his spine towards his shoulders. The stumps of his wings. She imagined them being ripped off and the wounds cauterized. It would be agony. But the real damage wouldn't be physical. Wonder what he did to deserve that. 39

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Apart from those dreadful scars, his body was unmarked. He looked perfect. She measured what she could see of him against the only man she'd ever known intimately. No doubt about it. Saul compared well with Hawk. Stop it. She'd have to go a long way to find an idea more stupid than falling for an angel. As if her reputation wasn't dented enough. Something was happening to him. His skin started to change color, a pale tinge of lemon at first, and deepening to gold. He glowed. He was praying, and glowing, and Rebecca had never been so close to holiness in all her life. Awestruck, she stepped backwards and bumped into the dressing table. A hair brush toppled to the floor. Saul turned his head and looked directly at her, but she couldn't see his eyes. They glowed the brightest gold of all, brighter than the sun. They dazzled her. She hid her face and fell to her knees. "Rebecca." His extraordinary voice sounded more than ever like a bronze bell deep in the ocean. She buried her face in her hands. "Rebecca." She was shaking, with fear, and something else. Something she couldn't get hold of. Something terrifying, but hidden from her. "Rebecca. It's all right." 40

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She peeked through her fingers at his feet, on the carpet just in front of her. They weren't shining. He'd tied a white towel around his waist and stood before her, not glowing, normal, or as normal as you got with Saul, offering his hands to help her up from the floor. "I'm sorry." She was whispering. Why was she whispering? "It's okay. It's natural that you should be curious. Who wouldn't be?" And he drew her fingertips towards his back as he turned around to show her his wounds. She stroked them, as lightly as she could, hardly touching them. They felt like hardened old leather at the outer edges and burned glass on the central ridges. She wanted to kiss them. To kiss them better. But she didn't. "I'm sorry. I wasn't spying on you. I heard a noise and thought you might have fallen." "Yes. I fell." His words were a rumble of distress and she was almost too frightened to look into his eyes. But she raised hers to his, and looked deep into them, and again was struck by his terrible pain. This time, for the first time, she found herself able to separate her own emotions from his. She could experience his pain without it hurting her. It reminded her of times in the past when she'd glimpsed other demons' feelings, and she wondered if her occasional sensitivity might be growing into a gift. Finally, a gift. 41

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But was it a gift she'd want? Were they ever? How would she know? He smiled, as if he'd read her thoughts. "I'm hungry. Let me get dressed and we'll eat." Saul watched Rebecca through another night, and tried to balance his growing depth of feeling for her with his overwhelming desire to return to heaven. After building such a good record here on earth, for so long, the last thing he wanted was to set himself back by surrendering to temptation. With a demon. He had everything to lose. One of his greatest strengths had always been his ability to be totally honest with himself. He watched the stars whirl, and sighed in his soul, and knew that this situation was worse, far worse and far more dangerous for his ultimate salvation than anything he'd ever faced before. Because what he felt wasn't only desire. He felt love. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five Rebecca always compared this stage of an investigation to searching an abandoned mine, following an old worked seam along dimly lit passages deep underground and pointing her bright lamp at the floor and roof as well as the walls, examining support structures for evidence of changes or repairs, and searching the dusty bedrock for any glinting fragment that might lead to... something. She would never share this fantasy with anyone else, of course. But it helped her maintain a strong focus while a hundred names and a thousand facts and a hundred thousand figures streamed through her working day. Deep in the recorded details of Fenner's legitimate activities, she'd found clear evidence of his thieving from Fortune. And she fully expected this first thin shaft to lead her to more corridors of his deceit. That's how it usually worked. But this case felt different, somehow. It was subtle, and right now it was only a feeling, but it was almost as if Fenner had designed this particular stratum of evidence deliberately, to satisfy an investigation such as hers. There were ends tied together that felt too convenient and too neat. She suspected that what she was in the process of uncovering might be a false chamber, designed to divert attention from whatever lay hidden in the vault below it. All of which was starting to sound too fanciful, even to her own ears, so she pushed her chair back and took a break 43

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from the computer screen. She needed to talk with someone who knew Fenner. Time for a coffee with Shirley. "I don't know where he is, but I'd hazard a guess he isn't breathing anymore." "Oh?" "Well, Alex sent your angel after him when he went on the run, and those cases usually end in unmarked graves." "Oh!" "They don't call him The Bastard for nothing, you know." Apparently not. "So, can you tell me anything about Fenner?" Shirley's desk phone rang. "Yes?" She listened for three seconds. "Thank you." As she pressed the handset button and dialed a number, Rebecca noticed a pale hint of lilac in her eyes. "Coffee for Alex Fortune, please." The lilac hue deepened to violet. "And have his lunch sent up in one hour." She glanced at Rebecca with eyes aglow. "Your uncle's car just pulled up outside." She watched the light counter ascending above the door of Alex's private lift. Rebecca stared. She's in love with Uncle Alex! It couldn't be more obvious or more beautiful. Shirley had been Alex's ferocious P.A. for years, as long as Rebecca could remember, which was almost as long as he'd been widowed. And Rebecca knew, as surely as if she were feeling her own emotions, that Shirley loved him fiercely, protectively, and secretly. Oh, you poor love. "Shall I get back to you later about Fenner?" 44

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The breathtaking violet gaze swept to her for a moment, then back to the light counter. "Sure." Eye color wasn't the only thing telling Rebecca how Shirley felt. That was an individual reaction. She'd glimpsed many different colors on demons over the years, and hardly thought anything of it. The glowing eyes had alerted Rebecca to a heightened emotion, and she'd read Shirley's heart. Or her mind. Whatever. She didn't have a clue about the technicalities, but what she'd done was read Shirley. Rebecca flopped into her office chair and stared at the screen without seeing anything. What was happening to her? She couldn't read humans. Never saw a human's eyes glow or got any kind of intuition about their feelings. Only demons. Why? Why only demons? No answer to that one. Nope, none at all. It must be some kind of folk memory spirit thing... Spirit. Demons were spirits more than bodies, regardless of substance and appearance and no matter how Alex theorized about a common humanness. The origin of demons was different to the origin of humans, and the origin of demons was spirit. So. She was developing the ability to read the spirit in demons. Communicating with another's spirit made her a medium, but... No such thing as a demon medium. 45

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Everyone shared the common demon gifts, such as the ability to influence humans, and some developed this ability, combining it with a deep knowledge of human nature until they appeared to be reading minds. Powerful demons like Alex could influence other demons. That's how they became the movers and shakers. Others were gifted with massive strength, either physical or mental, and some combined those two strengths to develop an amazing tolerance to pain. But there were no demon mediums. Who said, though? Just because she'd never heard of it before, did that mean it never happened? No. No, it didn't. I'm a medium. It was a beautiful sunset by any standard. The massive ball of flame shimmered deep red, then deeper as it flattened into the horizon, spreading liquid gold across rooftops in burning splashes that rendered tiny imitations in the manmade canyons pale and lifeless by comparison. It filled Saul's eyes with joy. He thought about that for a moment. Usually, he tried to keep his mind quiet while appreciating his sunsets, but this thought deserved attention. For the joy filled more than his eyes, and what he felt was more, so much more, than his routine appreciation of a natural wonder. The joy filled his heart. He quieted his mind and found joy in the beautiful sunset. When pain flooded, he checked out Rebecca's apartment before pushing free from the stone. He'd gotten into this new 46

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habit since she started appearing at the windows. There were complications enough without her discovering his secret. Today was a bad one. He groaned in agony as cramps hit everywhere at once. Multiple spasms tore through muscle systems and pulled him writhing into twisted shapes, while the big ones slammed him again and again like sledgehammers, forcing tears from his clenched eyes and unwilling whimpers through his gritted teeth. He needed exercise. His long nightly walks had come to a juddering halt when Rebecca refused to go out. He was trapped in inactivity, like a wild animal caged, and he hurt more today than he had yesterday. The pain dissolved, finally, and left him a puddle of exhaustion on the roof. The contrast between his intense joy of a few minutes ago and the pain that followed brought to mind another contrast, which again had everything to do with Rebecca. She brought him joy, simply by being herself, but she brought him conflict and misery, simply by being herself. He hadn't missed the correlation between his growing feelings for her and his newly active senses. Her living space, filled with her sunny fragrances; and tonight's blissful sunset; and even last night's beef steak, eaten in the presence of the woman who was causing him all this pain and distress. He'd enjoyed the food because he was with her when he'd eaten it. That was simple enough. But he hadn't only enjoyed its texture. He'd tasted it. His taste buds had exploded and it had been all he could do to prevent the juices running freely down his chin while he moaned with pleasure. 47

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But all along, beneath the excitement of new sensations and the joy of falling in love, two exquisite agonies promised certain heartbreak if he dared continue on this road. The fear at the front of his mind was the danger of losing his place in heaven, and he couldn't hide from the possibility that this might be his final and most terrible temptation before his atonement was complete. That was one agony, and it was a huge one. The second was smaller, but closer. No matter how he felt about her, he knew she didn't feel the same way about him. She feared and despised him as a violent thug. He'd seen that in her. He'd seen her response to violence that first night, and he knew his part in the violence had shocked and scared her. He was dirty and cast out, and she knew it. Should he walk away from this job? Yes, of course he should walk. She was causing him pain and inner turmoil like nothing had since his fall. And she was jeopardizing his ultimate salvation. But he wouldn't walk, because he'd given his word to Alex. Saul was honor bound to remain there for as long as Alex wanted him on the job. And because he loved Rebecca. Yes, he still had the ability to be honest with himself, but it was time to grow out of this ridiculous belated adolescence. It was time to get professional again. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" She glared at him. "Are you going out of your way to piss me off?" 48

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He shrugged again and carried on flicking through her magazine. "Like women's fashion, do you?" He lowered the magazine and gave her the steady look that always made her feel like a silly schoolgirl. And still he didn't reply. "I just complimented you on last night's meal and asked if you'd like to cook again this evening." "I'm not your cook, Rebecca." His eyes flashed golden, but she wouldn't let herself be scared or awestruck again by his arrogant holiness. "Fine. I'll call out for something then." Back to the magazine. Infuriating man. She left him to his mood and headed for the shower, closing the bedroom door firmly behind her and wiping angry tears away. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five... Jumping Jacks. Not the most mindless exercise ever invented, but maybe close to it. Sixty-nine, seventy, seventyone... He'd cleared a space in her living room and was exercising, determined to stop the pain from getting even worse tomorrow. Push-ups next. Eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two... The bedroom door opened. Rebecca glanced at him and looked startled for a moment. He paused. She offered a hesitant smile. "Look, I'm sorry we fell out earlier. Dunno why that happened, to be honest. Maybe we both just had a bad day?" He couldn't begin to explain his day. But their argument hadn't been so bad. Was she angling for something? "And I really did appreciate you cooking last night. I'm sorry if I came across as taking you for granted." How was he supposed to maintain a cold front, when she could melt him with a smile? "I thought I'd call out for pizza. You like pizza?" He surrendered. "Who doesn't like pizza?" "Great!" She handed him a menu. "Choose your toppings." Pizza wasn't so bad. Pizza and peace. He could live with that. 50

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They were halfway through the pizza feast and grinning at each other's enthusiastic eating, when it all went wrong again. "Shall we take a walk tonight?" he asked. "We could go down by the water. It's cooler down there." "No, thanks." He sighed. Couldn't help it. It was out before he realized. "What now?" She sounded annoyed. "I could do with some exercise." "I'm not going out. I'm safe in this building." "You'll be safe anywhere if I'm with you." "So you say. But it's my call." Her aura flickered with mixed messages. Clearly, something was troubling her. "What is it, Rebecca?" She dropped her uneaten slice of pizza back into the box and studied him before she spoke. "I trust you." He waited. "I do trust you. That's why we should talk about this." She took a breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, here's the thing. I'm pissed at the men in my life telling me what I can and can't do. Lately, it feels like I've lost all say." He watched her. "I'm not saying you do that. You don't. But that's why I might get a little...sharp... when it comes to doing something I don't want to do. I've had enough of that shit from Dad and Uncle Alex." He figured maybe there was a desert demon's name missing from that list. 51

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"So, it isn't you. Okay?" She smiled brightly, but her aura still flashed mixed messages. She hadn't told him what she wanted to tell him. "So you're not scared to leave the building." "No, I'm not scared!" He waited. "Yes, I'm scared." She sat back. "I'm scared." Her aura settled into a blue-green swirl as he watched her make a decision. "It's Hawk." He knew it. "When we first met, it was fun. You know? Now I see that he was setting me up, but even knowing that, I can remember how much fun we had and I know he enjoyed being with me." She closed her eyes. "Then it all got very scary. That's when I told Dad what was going on, and the shit hit the fan, and he shipped me out of town." She was circling the issue. "Tell me." "Hawk and his buddies worship one of the old demons. It was a bit of fun at first. Desert nights and drunken parties, you know? But Hawk got really into it and the fun fell out of everything real quick." It happened. Punk demons played with old evil and cults grew up. In Saul's experience, these things usually burned themselves out almost as fast as they got started. And so did a lot of the kids who played with them. "Who is this old demon?" "Mishvael." 52

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The name itched Saul's memory, but he couldn't place it. There were so many of these freaks. "What does he want?" She frowned. "What do you mean? I don't know if he wants anything." "They always want something." "Dunno." She shrugged. "When things got shitty, I got the hell out of Dodge." "How did things get shitty, exactly?" "It was Hawk. He went from fun to fucking scary in the space of a month. I didn't see it happening with anyone else. Just Hawk." "Scary, how?" "You know how incubi are, yes?" Was she blushing? Saul thought she might be. He offered a small shrug to help her continue. "You know, flirty and fun. They'll hit on anyone. They have strong influence, but it doesn't last long. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. If you put up a struggle for long enough, they lose interest and move on. They live in a target rich environment so the occasional knock back means nothing to them." She was definitely blushing. "Well, I was a knock back, but he stuck around. Looking back, I realize he had a job to do, but at the time I thought he was different and I was flattered." She shook her head, as if to scatter an unpleasant image. "Until he changed. He got real mean. It was like someone else behind his face. Last time we were together, I thought he was gonna hurt me when I wouldn't do what he wanted me to do. We were in the city 53

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that night, but if we'd have been in the desert I'm sure things would have turned out differently." Saul spread his palms, unwilling to say anything she might hear as a judgment, but even so...She'd been hanging with an incubus. "You don't know him, Saul. He would never hurt me, or anyone else. But that night, it wasn't Hawk in there. Something else was in his skin, and it terrified me." Saul considered his promise that he would protect her, no matter where and no matter what. He had total confidence in his ability to keep that promise against a bunch of punk demons, or anything else the living demon world might throw at him. But, this was something else. He'd never come up against one of the old demons before. Maybe Rebecca was right to doubt him. What was wrong with the guy? Rebecca couldn't get a fix on Saul for more than a few seconds at a time. These waves of...something like a guilty conscience... kept coming off him, but she doubted she was reading that right. Gah! She pretended to sleep. He was in the living room, but the door was open and there was no point in letting him know she couldn't settle. He'd probably suggest a walk. He'd be doing exercises in there later, she guessed. Getting all hot and sweaty. Maybe he'd need a shower again. She pictured him, hair dripping down his back, powerful shoulders and hard buns shining wet under the bathroom light. And those scars. Imagine how it would feel to hold him 54

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on top of her and stroke her fingertips up and down those black ridges while he filled her. No. This was so not a good idea. She'd never get to sleep with his naked image stirring her insides like hot honey. And, anyways, she'd be mad to even think of getting involved with him. Whoa! Where did that come from? She lay still now, all restlessness gone as she focused hard on the truth bouncing like a rubber ball down a flight of steps into the basement of her understanding. Oh, shit. This was more than getting the hots for him. She was falling for him. Falling? Who did she think she was kidding? She had fallen for him. It was a done deal. He made her heart lurch every time he spoke. A warm look from him lit a liquid fire between her legs. Heat flooded up from the bed and flushed right through her. She smiled into the darkness, but remained still and silent. Because he must never know. Her smile dissolved. The warm glow felt a bit silly, now, and out of place. It cooled quickly. He must never know, because he didn't feel the same way about her and she knew he never would. For all she knew, he never could. Who knew how it worked for angels? She didn't. Oh, this hurt too much and she didn't want any of it. He thought she was stupid. He made her feel stupid. As far as he 55

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was concerned, she was just another demon. The enemy. Is that how angels thought of demons? The enemy? He'd never hinted he thought that way. Apart from the alpha male shit he pulled when he thought he needed to— which, after all, kinda came with being an alpha male—he'd shown her courtesy and respect. And something else. Was there something else? Really? Had she seen it in his eyes? And if she had seen something, then what was it? She'd automatically assumed it was holiness, that golden glow, but was it? And if it wasn't that, what might it be? Rebecca, she told herself in a stern silent voice, stop fucking about and just ask the question straight. Was it possible that what she'd seen shining in his eyes, and the warmth she'd felt swelling and flooding through him every time she saw that golden glow, might be love? For her. Love for her. Might it? If he'd been a demon, she'd have said yes. But he wasn't a demon. But Alex reckoned demons and angels were pretty much the same. Demons and fallen angels, anyways. Fuck me, Batman. All the time she'd been falling for him and denying it, he'd been doing the same thing. Falling for her and denying it. Maybe. Or maybe falling for her and being scared about it. That was more likely. Scared stiff. Sitting in the dark just a few feet away, all strong and dependable, and all the time he's scared stiff. 56

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And why not? Who knew what falling in love with a demon might do to an angel? It might fuck him up completely. The only way she'd find that out would be to ask him. And once it was out in the open...well, who knew what would happen then? He stood silently and watched while she slept. The stars would whirl without him. She breathed sweetly, and murmured a soft something in her sleep, and her smile warmed his heart. He wanted to tell her everything. She'd trusted him. Now he should trust her. This was the scariest thing he'd ever imagined. No one in the world knew his secret. No one ever had, and he'd always believed no one ever would. The idea that he would even consider exposing his weakness to Rebecca told him just how much danger he was in. His mind recoiled from the thought. But his gut instinct told him to tell her everything. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven She listened for him, unsure of the time, feeling alone in the apartment but hoping to see him before he left. Soft warmth brushed her cheek and color glowed through her eyelids. He'd be gone by now. She had yet to see him in daylight. He was her angel of the night. The alarm chirped and she hit it as she swung her legs out of bed to greet the day from her window. There he was, her fierce friend, silhouetted against the morning light. Saul. Her strong protector, so like the statue in his quiet beauty. She stroked her nipple through its silk covering, watching the statue watching her and wishing it was Saul, wishing this was his perfectly manicured fingernail instead of hers. Still gazing at the statue, she dropped her pajama top to the floor and caressed her breasts. Saul. Feeling wanton and luscious, free of inhibition, and sexier than she'd ever dreamed possible, she slipped her pajama pants over her hips and stepped out of them to stand naked at the window. She offered her aching nipples to him, rubbing the balls of her thumbs over them softly. Her breath trembled as thrills spread from her breasts in delicious waves and glowing washes of heat radiated across her skin. She lay down on the bed, piling pillows under her head and shoulders so she could watch him while she remembered his beautiful body from the other night. She pictured him here, 58

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now. Her fingertip slipped into her wet warmth. She imagined it was his finger, stroking up and down inside her lips and pressing her lightning bud, and she spread her legs wide for him. "Saul." His name echoed from the quiet walls of her apartment as she circled her bud, and it grew under his fingertips, and she pressed harder and circled faster and kept going while flooding pleasure built in waves until her whole body tensed, and she came, quick and strong, breathing his name like a long single-note song. When the waves subsided and her heartbeat returned to normal, she stretched and purred. What a lovely way to start the day! She marveled at her newfound wantonness and smiled shyly at the statue on her way to the shower. Her body thrilled and whispered secrets to her all through the morning. She had a stern word with herself before going upstairs to eat lunch with Alex in his office, because he could always read her like a book and this was one story she wasn't ready to share. "How's the Fenner investigation going?" Alex got right down to business. She raised an index finger while she swallowed a mouthful of potato salad. "He had an accomplice." Alex's eyebrows arched. "Certain of that?" "Yes. They were careful. I don't know who, yet, but someone else was involved." "I want a name as soon as possible. What do you need?" "Individual employee records for the last three years." 59

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"That's a lot of records." "I'll start with senior management." He pressed his intercom. "Shirley, will you arrange for Rebecca to access full employee records throughout the company? Thanks." He gave his trademark that's the plan nod. "Catch this joker for me, Becs." "I will." It was Saturday. He rarely concerned himself with days of the week. Sometimes he lost track of them completely. But he knew today was a Saturday and he'd hoped she would be around while he waited for sunset. She wasn't. She'd left after breakfast, as if for a normal working day. There was nothing normal about his day, though, and he spent it staring into her empty apartment. He spent it picturing her breezing around the rooms, talking happily, laughing, and tying her hair back in that swift complicated knot she used. He pictured her in bed this morning, making love to herself, and wondered if he was mad to imagine she'd been thinking of making love to him while she did it. Madness was the least of his fears. His mental and emotional arousal was intense. The stone kept his body inert. Numb. Free of all sensation. But his imagination roamed free. And the things his imagination did with Rebecca awoke his greatest fear. "What did you do today?" She regarded him across the living room. So, he wanted to make small talk, did he? They were lounging opposite each 60

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other on matching couches, wearing matching robes, glowing after hot showers, and he thought he would make small talk. "I made some progress with the Fenner case." He gave a non-committal nod. Did she really want to go any further with this? Really? She'd been rehearsing all day and knew what she wanted to say. But if she said it, was she ready for the consequences, whatever they might be? There was only one way to find out. She took a steadying breath, and said it. "But mostly I thought about you." His eyes widened for an instant and his golden glow flickered into life. She could tell he didn't know how to play this game. She was no expert, but at least she'd lived through the normal teenage make-out stage. And, at the other end of the scale, she'd recently had her dangerous 'hold him off while enjoying the chase' experience with Hawk. But Saul was totally spinning his wheels. She could read his uncertainty. Is he a virgin? The thought hadn't occurred to her until now. He was Saul the Bastard, the badass fallen angel. Might he be a virgin? "I've been thinking about you all day, Saul." He swallowed, audibly. "I thought about you most of last night." Like a deer in her headlights. "And I know you've been thinking about me, too." At least, she thought she knew. She hoped she knew. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, like a sigh for help. 61

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"Saul." She waited. Finally, he met her gaze. He looked as strong and dependable as ever, and his face remained expressionless. If it wasn't for the fierce golden glow surrounding him, and the revealing heat from his spirit radiating clear across the room, she might have thought he was as impassive as he was making himself appear. "There's something you should know about me, mister. Two things, actually." She moved across to sit beside him. Not quite touching. Not enough to freak him out. But there, right beside him, sharing his space and hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "I'm a medium. I read spirits. I'm reading yours right now." She watched him absorb this. "I know how you feel about me." She sucked in a deep breath and thought, okay, here I go. "Which is good, because I feel the same way about you." After a long pause during which she died ten thousand deaths, he raised one of those perfect hands to stroke her cheek, gently, like a feather scented with sandalwood. "And the second thing?" "I'm a virgin." His hand paused for the briefest moment before it continued stroking her cheek. "I thought..." "I know you did. But when I told you I'd refused to give Hawk what he wanted, that's what I meant."

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"Okay." He said it like she'd just removed one of his remaining supports and he was teetering on the edge of balance. She caught his eye and held it, willing him to believe her truth. "I've been saving myself for the right one. I always knew you were out there somewhere, and I always believed we would find each other." She took his gentle hand and kissed it. "It's you, Saul." His stare flickered all around her before returning to her face to search her eyes. She felt he could read her spirit the same way she read his. She thought he probably was doing that very thing. She leaned forward and kissed him. He didn't respond. He wanted to. Every atom of him wanted to. But he couldn't. The touch of her lips was light, and his head filled with her sweet fragrance. Was he drunk? Was this what drunkenness felt like, when everything else in the universe flew away and disappeared from sight and the only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed, was this beautiful shining creature that filled his senses? When she kissed him again, he was beyond thought. He pulled her to him and they lost themselves in each other, naked under their robes, hands everywhere, kissing and trembling and moaning. He knew the mechanics of the sex act, but he'd never thought he would find himself doing it. Now, as joy and fear and mad excitement thrilled through him, he found it came naturally. 63

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"Now," she whispered, pulling him on top of her and guiding his straining cock to her heat. "Make love to me now." She raised her hips to him as he pushed, but his aim was slightly off and he nudged twice against her outer lips. Her eyes sparkled with a humor he shared while she helped him find the right place, and he glided in smoothly. She was unbelievably hot and wet, like delicious velvet gripping him. He rocked, moving inside her, gently at first, and found her matching his rhythm and moving with him, as if they were one body. They were one. Now, for the first time, he understood the expression. She wrapped her legs tight around him and urged him on while they kissed deeply. Harder. Stronger. Faster. Small vibrations running up and down his back told him she was stroking his scars, and every time he came up panting for air the brilliance of her aura dazzled him. "Saul!" Hot colors bloomed and fanned and radiated across her skin in waves. Something was building inside her, and he felt its twin waking inside him. He groaned. It was building fast in him. Unbelievably fast. She grasped his hair and stared with wild shining eyes, and he met her gaze. They held on, possessing each other, while the unstoppable pressure built and built, then paused for an agonizing eternity in an instant. When his orgasm came, it surged from the center of his existence, and the rush flooded through him into her and he jerked uncontrollably, again and again, until he collapsed shuddering and buried his 64

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face in her neck, while she held him strongly and whispered sweet love to him. They lay side-by-side on a silk sheet that shone in pale moonlight, holding hands. He watched her body cool. "There's something you should know about me, too." She rolled her head on the pillow and he saw love in her eyes. "You know I'm fallen. The terms of my sentence are simple." He took a steadying breath. "The reason you only see me at night is because when the sun comes up, I turn to stone." He guessed she was probably wondering what kind of freakishness she'd got herself caught up in. He started to pull his hand away, but she kept hold of it. "That's a terrible punishment. I'm so sorry." "It isn't a punishment. It's a chance for me to atone." He closed his eyes. "I don't know if you can understand..." "I understand the concept of atonement. It's still a terrible thing to suffer. How does it work? I mean, how do you make it work? When you're stone, are you conscious?" "Yes. I can think, and see, and hear. I make it work by never telling anyone. No one knows. This is my weakness, Rebecca. There are people who would use it to destroy me." "How?" He held her gaze. "Destroy the stone I'm in." He had given himself to her. What would happen? She rolled into his embrace and hugged him. "I will never tell a soul." 65

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She woke slowly with a luxurious smile, purring as her heart somersaulted and soared again with a rush of luxurious abandon. Her sensitive flesh remembered the feel of him inside her, stretching and filling her, and she wanted him again. She reached for him, but found only a cool space beside her. Rising up on one elbow, she saw him sitting at the bottom of the bed, silhouetted against a pre-dawn sky through the window. Something was wrong. He made no noise. He didn't move. She could make out only the shape of his shoulders and the back of his lowered head, but something in his motionless posture alerted her to something wrong. "Saul?" A moment's pause, before he turned his face towards her. He was crying, crying silently, crying heavy golden tears that dripped from his face and ran in glowing rivulets down his lovely chest, and his brimming golden eyes held the sorrows of a million years. "Saul!" She twisted and crawled to him quickly. "Darling! What's wrong?" He opened his arms and took her into his embrace, and her spirit felt a huge sob building inside him. "Tell me, love." The sobs clawed up through his throat and wracked him. She held him strongly, until his pain eased. "Saul. Tell me." "I can never go home, Rebecca. I had my chance and I gave it away. I love you, and how can love be wrong?" 66

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"I don't know. How can it?" "But I'm exiled from heaven." Golden tears ran freely down his cheeks. "Why? Because we fell in love? Because I'm a demon?" "No. Because we had sex. I've stayed celibate. To stay pure. To get back into heaven." "I thought your God was supposed to be a God of love." "He is." Saul stroked a lock of damp hair away from her cheek. "And He's your God too." "That's one of the problems, isn't it? We're not like humans, choosing whether or not to believe, taking everything on faith, molding God into whatever shape makes them comfortable. We don't have that luxury. We know He is real, even the terrible parts. Even the part that says His love is good but ours is bad." Saul stared out at the brightening sky while fresh tears welled in his eyes. "It's over." She held him again. Does this mean we're finished? Is this the end, so soon? Her heart ached heavily and her tears joined his. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight He took her to the roof before sun-up. They held hands and studied the statue, and his heart weighed him down like a stone. "You sleep inside him during the day." "I don't sleep, but yes, it's my favorite place to rest when I'm in New York." She looked across into her apartment. "You've been watching me." No accusation sharpened her tone. It was more a quiet realization. He'd hoped she wouldn't think the situation was creepy. "Yes." "You've been falling in love with me." "Yes." A thrill bloomed in him, only to be swamped immediately by a blanket of desolation sinking into his gut. The eastern sky grew ever more pale and his cold flesh tingled. He edged away from the brick wall. "I need to do it now." "What happens if you don't do it in time?" "The nearest rock or stone absorbs me. I prefer to choose." He stepped towards the statue, but she pulled him back and hugged him. "I'll see you tonight." Her words held both a promise and a hidden question. "I'll be here, waiting." 68

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Saul kissed her, and wished he could rekindle last night's flame of passion to burn off the despair. He eased her hands away gently and embraced the statue. He just disappeared into it, like a cube of butter melting into white sauce, only much quicker and without any liquids involved. She wondered if his features would show in the statue's face. But nothing changed. "See you tonight, my love." She touched her fingertips to the statue's lips and left the roof. The building was nearly empty, so she took advantage of the peace and quiet to tackle her next batch of senior managers' records. She threw herself into work and suppressed all the questions about her and Saul. Alex's voice broke her concentration after four hours, and she smiled in anticipation. The smile slipped when she heard John's voice too, but by the time they walked through her office door she had it back in place. "There's my girl! How's it going?" Alex asked. "It's going well. I've eliminated half your senior managers." "Good work." He gave a double thumbs-up. "That'll save on the wage bill. We've come to invite you out to my place this afternoon. Barbeque, pool, drinks, and a few trusted friends. Get you out of the building. What do you say?" It was tempting. But what about Saul? She didn't want to find herself trapped out in The Hamptons when Saul was waking up. Or whatever it was he did.

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"Can I take a rain check?" She tapped the end of her pen on the computer screen. "I want to get through these guys today. You don't mind, do you?" Unexpectedly, her eyes locked with John's. He was in a state. She could almost feel his distress. She read...guilt. "Talk about a chip off the old block!" Alex chuckled. "You do whatever you want, Becs." John's the thief. The master list of senior managers stared at her from the screen. John headed the Tax Department. She expected his father had told him about her line of investigation. And now he knew she'd be getting to him sometime this afternoon. No wonder he was shitting himself. "Listen." Alex paused in the doorway. "If you change your mind, tell Shirley and she'll have a helicopter bring you out. Even if it's for just a couple hours, okay? Give yourself a break." John tore his eyes away from her and followed Alex out. Bloody hell! She clicked on John's name and dived into his records. Saul's mind was calm. It had taken him half the day to accept the futility of agonizing over things he couldn't control. What was done was done. He accepted his status. Heaven was lost to him, but he had love. What he wouldn't do: ruin this love by grieving openly for what he'd lost in order to gain Rebecca. He was grieving, and he would continue to grieve, but he would do it in private. And he still couldn't accept that love could be wrong. John wasn't the thief. 70

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Rebecca sat back and closed her eyes. She had misinterpreted what she read in him. The secret he hid wasn't embezzlement. It was adultery. His expense account record made it very clear: he was involved with a junior manager called Yvonne Valentine, whose staff photograph showed a striking brunette with confident eyes and a wide smile. She was pretty much the exact opposite of John's rather severelooking wife, Kerry. Scumbag. The thought of John having sex at all was bad enough, but the image of him crawling all over Yvonne before going home to crawl all over Kerry made Rebecca feel sick. She closed Yvonne's page, and John's page, and returned to the master list. And sighed. How typical of John to throw her off-course and cost her an hour of hard work. She'd lost the impetus, now, and she could really do with a breath of fresh air. Maybe a helicopter ride out to Alex's place would be a good idea after all, so long as she could avoid John. He'd probably avoid her, actually, so no worries there. And she would make sure to get back in time for Saul. She went into Shirley's office, and the P.A. jumped. "Sorry," Rebecca said. "I didn't mean to startle you." "Just daydreaming." Rebecca was about to quip something along the lines of 'anyone nice?' but managed to keep her foot out of her mouth on that one. She stuck her head around Alex's door to see if he was still there. 71

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"Alex has gone home." Shirley's tone suggested she'd been hoping to be left alone to get on with some work, and Rebecca understood the sentiment well, but she couldn't resist peeking to see Shirley's violet glow of love when she mentioned Alex. It wasn't there. Not even a pale hint of lilac. Rebecca read Shirley's spirit but got only some kind of residual hostility. She frowned. She was getting a really bad vibe from Shirley right now. Must be a bad day. She wiped away the frown when the P.A. looked up at her. "So, I'm catching up on a backlog. What are you doing in on a Sunday?" Despite the friendlier tone, Rebecca caught the strong undercurrent of that hostility. It was very unpleasant, and it put Shirley in a whole new light. "I'm still working on the Fenner case." Wow! There was that violet glow, big and strong and getting stronger by the second. Shirley didn't answer in words, but her spirit spoke loud and clear. It isn't Alex she's in love with! It's Fenner! Rebecca's jaw dropped. Shirley is Fenner's accomplice! "What?" Shirley was radiating waves of fury. Rebecca shut her mouth. "Nothing. Sorry. I just remembered something." She turned and left Shirley's office with what she hoped was a genuine-looking smile. "See you later." When Rebecca returned to her apartment shortly after midday, Saul's spirit soared. She waved to him and blew a 72

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kiss, before sitting at the dining table and getting serious with a laptop. He loved to watch her work. Loved how she scribbled rapid notes on a pad, then slid the pen back into her hair above the knot before attacking the keyboard again. Loved how she immersed herself in her work. Loved how she'd go at it solid for a good while and then raise her head to shoot him that intense look of hers, as if she was telling him about the exciting things she had discovered. He loved her more every time he saw her, and this was the best day in stone he could ever remember. The sound of a key turning in the door startled her. Rebecca glanced across at Saul's statue, but it was still full daylight out there so it couldn't be him walking down the hallway towards her living room. In heels. Shirley rounded the corner and sent her a cold smile while waves of anger filled the room. Someone else walked behind Shirley. Someone stealthy. The quiet footfalls reminded her of... Oh, no. Please, no. Hawk grinned at her over Shirley's shoulder. "Hello, Rebecca. You've been a bad girl." She couldn't speak. She could only stare in horror at what he had become. He dragged Shirley's head back by her hair and whipped a blade across her throat. Blood spurted. He shoved her violently convulsing body away from him. "Come on, bad girl. Time to go." [Back to Table of Contents] 73

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Chapter Nine Saul screamed in silent rage as the demon took Rebecca from her apartment. The sun rode high above him. There was nothing he could do except watch the shadows lengthen and wait. He remembered Rebecca's voice when she described Hawk: Tallish. A couple inches shorter than you and very built. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Muscular arms with halfsleeve tattoos. Black hair, straight and shoulder-length, usually tied back. Very suntanned. Her kidnapper was Hawk. Saul also remembered this: You don't know him, Saul. He would never hurt me, or anyone else. But that night, it wasn't Hawk in there. Something else was in his skin, and it terrified me. Whatever it was that she'd seen possessing Hawk, it was at least as bad as she'd feared. It had killed Alex's secretary as if it were squashing a bug. And if Saul's assessment of Rebecca's sluggish movements and vacant expression was correct, its influence was powerful. She'd said Hawk and his buddies worshipped an old demon called Mishvael. Again, the name itched in his mind. Where had he heard that before? He scratched the itch for a long time, trying to stir up some association that might trigger a memory. But nothing came. Halfway through the afternoon, three Fortune security men entered Rebecca's apartment and gave it a detailed search, 74

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before one of them collected her laptop and note pad. The other two carried away the secretary's body. Sundown was still hours off. He seethed. Hawk's influence was strong, but her head cleared quickly at the same time as the pilot's concern over Shirley's absence evaporated. He wasn't really Hawk anymore. Not completely. His body and features still looked like Hawk, and his voice was still his own, but there was another spirit in there with him and its presence showed in his eyes. They turned jet black every time he ramped up his influence, and Rebecca had to work hard at not shrinking in terror when the evil radiated from him. Other times during the flight, Hawk spoke to her almost as if nothing had changed between them, but his flirty clowning was a cruel parody of the way he used to be with her and it never lasted long. He kept turning his intense focus onto the pilot, and she was ashamed of her gratitude each time that happened. They landed on a wilderness road as the sun sank into the desert over to their right. Saul will save me. He'll know how to find me and he'll save me. Won't he? "Alex Fortune wants to see you." Saul strode past with thunder in his mind and the demon stepped out of his way. This was the third time someone had squeaked the message at him in two minutes. Another demon working at the secretary's computer glanced up when he swept through the reception office, then 75

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returned her concentration to the screen. Two demons were emptying files from cabinets into labeled shopping carts. Saul entered Alex's office to see him on the phone. He stood, saying, "I'll call you back," and replaced the receiver. "Someone's taken Rebecca." Alex's voice was low and terse. "My P.A. booked herself and two other demons, a man and a woman, onto my private jet for a flight to Las Vegas. My P.A. turned up with her throat cut in Rebecca's apartment, but the other demons boarded the plane and it took off seven hours ago. It hasn't arrived in Vegas and no one knows where it is. We're assuming the woman was Rebecca." "It was." Alex's mouth turned down. "How do you know?" "The one who took her is a Mojave Desert demon known as Hawk. He leads the rabble Drake's been having problems with. They've started worshipping one of the old demons. Goes by the name of Mishvael. Seems he's at the bottom of Drake's trouble, and it's my guess he's the one who had Rebecca abducted." "Fucking hell." Alex sat down sharply. "You know him?" "Never heard of him. But those old bastards don't fuck around." His face was pale. "Rebecca's in bad trouble." "Get me down there." "There's a jet fueled and ready at Teterboro. My helicopter is on the pad waiting to take you to it. Get her back, Saul." Demons dragged Rebecca from the Jeep, where she'd spent the journey from the plane face down in the rear foot well with her hands bound behind her back. She'd managed 76

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to crane her neck so that her forehead was mostly against the floor, but it had been a rough ride and she'd slammed her face more times than she could count. The second Jeep pulled up in a cloud of dust. Hawk jumped from the front passenger seat and strode off without looking at her. They were in a canyon, illuminated by dozens of camp fires and smoking torches that threw dramatic shadows across the surrounding rock formations. Demons stared at her as two muscular females marched her through the camp towards a wooden stage constructed against the pockmarked rock wall at the back of the natural amphitheater. There was lust and violence in every pair of eyes, and she avoided meeting any of them. She stumbled on the steps up to the platform, but the demons hauled her upright. Two naked young women were stretched out in star shapes, bound by their wrists and ankles to square wooden frames on the stage. An identical but unoccupied frame stood in the middle and slightly forward of them. Oh, no. Please, no. The young women bore bruises and scratches all over their bodies. They were crying quietly and trembling. She recognized them. They worked as administrative assistants somewhere in Drake Headquarters, but she didn't think she'd ever spoken to either of them and she didn't know their names. They stared at her with hopeless terror in their eyes. She had nothing to give them other than a steadying look. 77

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The demons dragged her to the frame, unbound her hands briefly and pulled her arms out into a crucifix shape. "No!" She struggled against their overwhelming strength. One of them slapped her across the face so hard she was knocked clean off her feet. She slammed to the boards and the other demon kicked her in the ribs. "Stop squealing, bitch. Get up!" They hauled her upright again and she stopped struggling. Her head rang and her face throbbed. Sharp pains stabbed her ribs every time she moved, but she clamped her teeth and stayed silent. When she was fixed securely in a star shape they turned from her and left the stage as if she no longer existed. "Miss Drake," the woman on her left whispered. "What are they going to do to us?" "Rebecca," she said, trying to sound as calm as possible. She twisted one way, then the other, but couldn't turn her head far enough to see them. "I'm Rebecca. I'm sorry. I don't know your names." "Sally Eden," from her left. "Fiona Brown," from her right. "Hello, Sally. Hello, Fiona. Listen, I don't know what these bastards have planned for us, but there's one thing I do know. Our people will get us out of this." Saul will get us out of this. Their only replies were sniffles. "How long have you been here?" "They dragged us off the street on our way to work this morning," said Sally. "Just round the corner from H.Q. They 78

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threw us in the back of a van and tied us up. No one spoke to us until we got here, hours later." She started crying again. "What do they want?" "I don't know." Rebecca had a horrible feeling they were about to find out because Hawk was climbing the steps towards them. He stood before her and smiled, looking hugely proud of himself. Demons were gathering below the stage to watch, and she knew him well enough to expect he was about to play to the crowd. He produced a big pair of scissors from the back pocket of his jeans with a flourish, and cut all the way up her shirt from bottom to top. Some of the assembled demons gave a ragged cheer, which others among them took up when Hawk pulled her ruined shirt back to reveal her bra. She closed her eyes and kept them closed while he cut all her clothing away and threw the pieces down into the crowd. She tried not to freak out as the cheering became louder and the shouted comments more and more obscene. He didn't touch her intimately, which surprised her. But she could tell from the way he lingered over his task that he was having the time of his life. Finally, when the chill night air told her she was completely naked and spread-eagled for all to see, she opened her eyes. "What are you doing, Hawk? You always were a prick, but I never thought you were fucking stupid as well. They're going to hunt you down and kill you for this." He threw his head back and laughed, loud and long. The demon crowd joined in with whoops, and yelps, and the 79

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sound grew until the amphitheater rocked with insane howling laughter. When the noise died down, Hawk bent his head towards her and spoke calmly. "All they're gonna do, my demon princess, is bow down and worship the Lord Mishvael." "For fuck's sake! You're not still spouting that drivel?" His eyes turned black and she tried not to quake in terror. "We'll see if you still think it's drivel when we sacrifice you to him," he growled, and his voice sounded nothing like Hawk at all. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten Vegas came into view, shining like a distant planet in the desert darkness, and Saul started his breathing exercise routine. The flight was no different from any other flight. The job was no different from any other job. Cold, clinical, and professional. This approach had always worked before and it would work now. It must work now. He caught that thought and put it behind him. If he allowed his love for Rebecca to color his thoughts and actions, he would fail her. For her to survive this, he needed to stop focusing on her and start focusing on the bad guys. The plane taxied to a bleak runway where a limo sat alongside a black helicopter with its rotors turning slowly. Three demons met him on the tarmac. He had worked for Philip Drake several times in the past, but this was the first time Saul had shaken hands with the head of family knowing he was Rebecca's father. "My wife, Mary. Our head of security, Captain Wilson." Both Mary and Philip Drake looked like hell, which made sense because their daughter had been kidnapped and could be killed. Saul couldn't imagine the pain they must be enduring. But he concealed his pity even from himself. Nothing could distract him from the mission. So he shook hands all round without comment. Wilson, a trim dark man dressed in camo, promptly got down to business. "Yesterday morning, desert demons started gathering at Hole in the Wall, ninety miles south of here. 81

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There's about a hundred of them, and they're holding Miss Drake. We have them surrounded at a distance and under covert observation." "Why haven't you gone in?" Wilson shot a sideways glance at Rebecca's father. "My orders were to monitor the situation and await your arrival, unless Miss Drake appeared to be in immediate danger." "Let's go." Saul stepped towards the helicopter A hand touched his arm. "Bring my daughter home safely. Please." Mary Drake's voice was low, like Rebecca's...painfully familiar. He allowed himself a brief moment of eye contact, and climbed aboard the helicopter as it wound itself up. Eight pairs of eyes glinted at him from camo-creamed faces in the red light. Three seats remained empty among the silent, wellequipped soldiers. The moment Saul, Wilson and Drake sat in them, the helicopter lifted into the night. So this is hell. Everywhere Rebecca looked, demons were partying hard. Filled to the gills with liquor and pills, they'd shed their disguises of human frailty with their clothing and they were fucking like there was no tomorrow. "It's the Eve of Armageddon!" Hawk roared from the stage, as if the phrase had huge significance. He paced the stage like a hyped-up king and glared out over the seething, writhing, jerking mass of dull red flesh that was his kingdom. He didn't spare Rebecca a glance, and neither did anyone else. Everyone was fully occupied. For which she was very grateful. 82

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The sex was savage and brutal. She couldn't understand how anyone could get any pleasure from what she was seeing. Unless they derived pleasure from pain and degradation. Two strong demons dragged a battered and bloodied naked figure up the steps and held him upright before Hawk. It was the pilot who'd flown them down from NYC. He and Rebecca held eye contact as if it were their last lifeline in a storm of blood and shit, until Hawk hoisted him high and threw him down into the mass of demons. He screamed like an animal while they tore him apart. "They ate him." "Fucking hell." Wilson glared at the whispering soldiers as he and Saul settled on their bellies among the Joshua trees. "Keep the noise down." He scanned the distant scene with binoculars for a minute then passed them to Saul. He focused on the stage. Rebecca was alive. He suppressed a huge sigh of relief. "Who are the other two women?" "H.Q. staffers." "They look pretty beat up." "They've been here longer than Miss Drake." Saul had seen enough. He and Wilson snaked back to within whispering distance of Philip Drake. "I'll get her out," Saul said. "Once I'm in close, I'll have a better idea how I can help the other women too. But I'll get Rebecca to safety first." Drake nodded. 83

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"Looks like the party is running out of steam. It'll be dawn in an hour and things will probably go quiet for the day, but their guards will have an easier job keeping watch while the camp sleeps, so we'd better hold off until tonight if we can. If this is all driven by old demon worship, it's my guess they'll wait until darkness for whatever they have planned. I'll get as close as I can before sun-up, then I'll go to ground." Saul held Wilson's gaze and hoped the man was competent. "I'll release her after sundown tonight. It'll be safer for her that way, than you and your men attacking the camp in daylight while she's still tied up." Wilson frowned. "But—" "You have to know they'll try to kill her when they're attacked, especially if the odds look stacked against them," Saul told Drake. "Don't let anyone back them into a corner while they still have Rebecca." Drake looked like he was going to vomit, and Saul wondered if the man could cope with this situation. After all, his daughter was naked and spread-eagled on that stage, helplessly waiting for...Saul shunted the thought aside and gave the older man's shoulder a brief squeeze. "I'll get her out." He turned to Wilson. "The moment I cut her free, you go in. If they discover me and the shit hits the fan, you go in. If it looks like she's in imminent danger before I make my move tonight, you go in. Otherwise, sit tight." Wilson glanced past Saul to Drake. "Let him run with his plan," Drake said. "For now." 84

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Saul handed his rolled-up duster coat to Wilson. "Look after this for me, and keep a tight rein on your boys today." He snaked forward on his stomach until he could hear the demon party ahead of him. No point getting too close just yet. They were camped in the amphitheater formed by strangely shaped volcanic rocks, pockmarked gray like pumice and glowing pale pink on top as the emerging dawn began to light the morning sky. The demon orgy was over. There was no sex happening as far as he could see. Plenty of burns and cuts and bruises in evidence, and still some abuses going on, but they elicited moans rather than the passionate screams he'd heard earlier. At the natural gateway, he paused to choose a position that would allow him to see Rebecca without the watching Drake personnel being able to see him melt into and out of the rock. Sunrise was close. No time to waste. He jogged around outside the canyon walls, all the way behind the stage, and climbed fast. No need for stealth here, with the desert plain behind and no one to see him other than a couple dozen Drake soldiers lying low out there. The demon party might as well be a hundred miles away. By the time he slid across the gritty top surface and peered down into the camp, his limb muscles ached like cold stone and his tingling flesh threatened to pull him into the rock before he was ready. He was forty feet to one side of the stage and thirty feet above a sliver of darkness where a sharp volcanic needle stood proud out of the rock face, shielded from the watching Drake soldiers by a crooked pillar at the amphitheater entrance. The sun's rays exploded up into the 85

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sky. Twenty seconds more would be too late. He rolled off into thin air and dropped like a stone to slam into the thin wedge between the needle and the cliff. That's gonna hurt later. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eleven Had she caught a whiff of sandalwood on the breeze? She'd fallen into and out of consciousness for hours, and Saul had appeared to save her several times. Each time, she'd believed it. Each time, the nightmare had settled into focus and the dream had evaporated. Sally and Fiona stopped crying a long time ago. They'd all shivered from the cold through the night, and the two girls had groaned a bit from time to time, but mostly they stayed silent. She didn't know if they were conscious, but she didn't want to attract attention by trying to talk to them. Maybe that was their thinking too, or maybe they were just beyond communication. They'd been strung up a lot longer than she had, and she was in a bad way. Everything hurt. The orgy had fallen asleep. Demons sprawled everywhere in snoring, farting, twitching clumps, with just a handful of survivors sitting round to toast the rising sun. But she wasn't fooled by this lack of activity. Hawk and his guard of huge demons hadn't partied, and she caught sight of one every now and then as they moved around the camp or skipped across from rock to rock above. Hawk was climbing the steps. She lowered her head and feigned unconsciousness. His toasted nut-butter scent filled her nostrils. "You're awake." She didn't respond. For a moment she thought he would leave her alone, but she jumped when he took her left nipple between his finger 87

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and thumb and squeezed hard, twisting and twisting until she gasped in pain and jerked her head upright. "See. You're awake." Don't give him what he wants. Stay calm. He snaked a fingertip over her belly and reached down between her legs to cup her mound and press a finger firmly up into her perineum. "You're mine." She was almost too weary to shake her head. "No." He pinched the join of her lips hard and tears pricked her eyes. Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. He didn't release her from the pain. "Yes." She squeezed her eyes shut. A tear ran down each cheek. "Yes." She glared at him. "You have no idea how much I'm not yours." He ripped out a tuft of pubic hair, then held it up for her to see. "You have no idea how much you are." Her mound throbbed and pinpricks of light flashed in her vision, but she managed to stifle the shriek of pain and get her panting breath back under control. "Why, Hawk?" He smiled casually and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why sacrifice us?" "Mishvael wants you." Don't roll your eyes. Don't piss him off again. Get him to talk. "Why does he want us?" 88

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"He just does." She tried to read him, but it wasn't easy. She couldn't get in. Maybe she was too exhausted and scared. Or maybe he was too good at masking his feelings. Maybe, if she could get a rise out of him, get him to show some emotion... "You don't know why, do you? You sad sack of shit." His eyes turned black, as if they were flooding with blood. They were flooding with blood. What she'd thought was black was actually deep ruby red. Like blood. For some reason she didn't have the wherewithal to fathom right now, ruby red didn't fill her with terror the way jet black had. "Demons will sing of your sacrifice forever. A new night is coming, and darkness will be my dominion." She could read him. His mind opened to her and she saw bliss. A wide waterfall thundered slowly into a beautiful treelined gorge below a big gentle sun in a cloudless sky, and everything glowed softly in a hundred shades of orange. Heaven. She was seeing heaven. It wasn't Hawk's mind she was reading. It was Mishvael's mind. Mishvael's memory. Mishvael's memory of home. She fell into the beauty of the vision. This is what Saul gave up to be with me. Rebecca's torturer sauntered down the steps. Two big demons fell into step behind him and they strolled past without a blink in Saul's direction. Dead men walking. It's all right, Mom. 89

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Rebecca kissed her mother's tears away and held her close, as if she were the parent and her mom the child. It'll be all right. I know it will. Dad stood before her. I love you, Dad, and I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused. Look after Mom. I hate to see her so upset. A vague embarrassment about Dad seeing her like this slid into the side of her mind. Before she could deal with it, reality hit home like a desert sun beating down on her unprotected head. Someone moaned. It was her. She'd moaned. A movement nearby, and she squinted at the ladle in front of her face. "Water." One of the bitches who'd beaten her yesterday. She lapped at it urgently, until the bitch removed the ladle from her lips and flicked the remaining water away. It darkened the sun-bleached boards briefly and dried before her eyes. The bitch put her hand between Rebecca's legs and stroked a fingertip inside her outer lips. Nothing she could do except glare defiance. The bitch grinned, but only for an instant, until Hawk pinned her to his chest and pressed a blade into her jugular. "She stays complete. Whatever you penetrate her with, will come off. Understand?" The bitch grunted her compliance. "That finger of yours get inside her yet?" "No." 90

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"Good." He sliced a slow surface cut into the demon's skin as he removed the blade, and she cast her eyes down as she left the stage. "You think I'm still a virgin." "I know you are." "You're behind the times, Hawk. If you need a virgin for your party game, I don't qualify." "How convenient." He wasn't buying it. "True, though." He shook his head and an enormous pride welled out of him. No way would he believe someone else had triumphed where he'd failed. She could read him loud and clear. "Is the other one asleep?" she asked. "I don't sleep." Mishvael's growl sounded amused, if anything. Saul had said that, too. When was that? Seemed like weeks ago. "I'm no longer a virgin. You're in for a big disappointment." Hawk's yellowing eyes closed and moved rapidly behind his lids. When they opened again, they were full of blood. "You are a virgin. Your lies change nothing." He threw his head back and shouted at the sky. "The lies and manipulations of these little creatures mean nothing! Even now, demon soldiers scurry about on the other side of these rocks, thinking they will stop me. Nothing will stop me! Not You. Not them. Nothing!" He spun around and roared. "Hear me, demons! When night falls, I will accept the sacrifice of your virgin princess and her maidservants. Then, you will see my 91

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power and you will believe! You will bow down and worship me, and darkness will be my dominion!" The highest tips of rock around the amphitheater entrance glowed in the setting sun, pink against the deep blue sky beyond. Saul pushed, but the stone wouldn't release him. Excited chatter swelled as demons jostled for places in the crowd. Hungry eyes stared at the three demon women spread-eagled above them on the stage. The atmosphere was thick with lust and violence. Saul pushed again. He wanted to leave the rock on the other side, so that it hid him from the crowd. God knew he wouldn't have much time to work out his cramps and prepare to fight, and God knew how long Rebecca and the other women would have once the sun went down, and God only knew... Stop it. He calmed his mind. He was here, the time was now, and he could do no more than he could do. What will be, will be. Hawk strode past on his way to the stage, followed by a guard of enormous demons who remained at the bottom of the steps while he climbed slowly. He looked like he was milking every moment. Saul pushed free and emerged into a tight wedge between the rock face and the needle. Cramps hit him immediately and everywhere and with so much force he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't groan. Lights flashed behind his eyes and his brain throbbed. His feet scrambled and scraped for purchase on the gritty stone. He was sure demons 92

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would hear his struggles and come to investigate but that didn't matter if he could just... Breathe. He rolled free from the tight space and hit the ground, writhing in agony, cramping like a freeway pile-up. But at least he was breathing. He dragged his feet from plain view and started working out hard and fast. The demon crowd cheered. Saul realized Hawk had been shouting out to them and whipping up their frenzy. He tried to focus on Hawk's words even as blood hammered in his ears and his own gasps threatened to drown out everything else. "What is your name?" demanded Hawk. Saul heard no response. He hauled himself up and peered at the stage through the wedge in the rock. Hawk stood in front of the woman on the far side of the stage, drew back his hand and paused dramatically for a moment before he slapped her face. Saul couldn't see the woman. He saw Rebecca flinch at the sound and he heard the slapped woman cry out. "What is your name?" "Sally Eden." Her voice was weak and broken. "Sally Eden. Your name will go down in history. The Lord Mishvael accepts your sacrifice!" Saul got to his feet and tried to walk, but new cramps hit his thighs and calves and he collapsed into a sweating heap. The crowd hushed. Those at the back hopped up and down to see the spectacle. A high scream pierced the silence and the crowd bayed. 93

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The scream cut off sharply and Hawk spun around to face the demons below him, a lump of meat clutched in his right hand dripping blood onto the boards at his feet. He held it up in the air and the mob cheered savagely, and continued cheering while he tore a bite from the meat and chewed it, chewed it well, blood running down his chin onto his chest, and swallowed visibly, and threw the remains of the meat into the crowd, where demons fought over it. Saul gained his feet and stayed up, working his upper body as hard as it would go. His head throbbed and waves of sickness heaved through him. "What is your name?" Oh, God. He spun around and leaned on the rock, sweat stinging his eyes. Not Rebecca. It isn't Rebecca yet. The woman sobbed. "Fiona Brown." "Don't do it, Hawk!" Rebecca sounded terrified. Saul was proud of her courage. "Fiona Brown. Your name will go down in history. The Lord Mishvael accepts your sacrifice!" Hawk plunged his hand into her chest and ripped out her heart. Fiona didn't make a sound. She slumped instantly, and Saul hoped she was dead from shock before any pain hit her. He pulled himself past the needle and hobbled towards the stage, bouncing along the rock face as Hawk bit off and chewed a mouthful of Fiona's heart and threw it into the 94

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screaming mob and turned his bloodied grinning bright blueeyed face to Rebecca. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twelve Saul! He was here! For a moment, she forgot about Hawk's weird new cold blue eyes, and she lolled her head on her shoulder to gaze at her lover. What was wrong with him? He was hurt. She couldn't see any wounds, but he scraped along the cliff face as if he'd just got up from a severe beating. He must have been through hell to get this far. And now he had to face Hawk's demon guard, who were unharmed, fresh and ready to rip her fallen angel to pieces. Oh, God! They'd seen him. They swaggered towards him, spreading out to circle around and behind him. She screamed, "Saul!" He waited until the guards were closing in on him, then kind of jumped in slow motion, and hung in the air for a moment while he spun faster than a whip crack. The attacking demons fell back with their throats cut open, two of them so deeply their heads were almost severed from their shoulders. They flopped back at stupid angles as their bodies crashed to the dirt. She'd seen this before, but the watching demons hadn't. The nearest ones pushed back against the unyielding crowd behind them and eyed him warily.

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More demons from Hawk's guard trotted from the stage towards Saul. He stood with his gleaming sword-hands lowered and did that incredible Zen thing of his. "Wait!" Hawk bellowed, and she jumped. The guard demons fanned out and kept a close eye on Saul from six feet away. One of them glanced back at Hawk for further orders. "You've come a long way, Bastard. It'd be a shame for you to miss the show. Let him watch the sacrifice, first." "She's no use to you." Saul's voice boomed with power like that timeless bronze bell in the deep ocean, and she loved him with all her heart. "She isn't a virgin." "Yeah, right." Hawk glanced back and forth between Saul and Rebecca. He didn't seem quite so sure of his facts this time. "I'm her lover." Hawk shot a look at her and she saw truth dawning in his eyes. "He is." She smiled sweetly at him. "And you are so in deep shit now." "Kill him!" Saul took the guard demons out before they could respond to Hawk's order. In the blink of an eye, they sprawled dead and dying on the ground. The crowd pushed back away from Saul as he lurched towards the steps. What was wrong with him? He looked sick and injured. She still couldn't see any wounds, but he radiated intense pain. Hawk growled from low in his stomach like a big beast. Blood flooded his eyes and spilled over his lower lids to flow 97

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freely down his cheeks. Something was happening with him and it looked real bad, like a volcano shaking as it built up pressure fast. His face lost its structure and sagged like a cheap latex mask. Rebecca tried to pull away from him, but the ropes held her firm. Saul was hauling himself up the steps, but Hawk was ripping open and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the horror. His face split first, right down the middle, the blackened bloody edges of his flesh curling away as the split widened and ran back from his forehead. Something hard pushed through, as if the top of Hawk's head was giving birth to a big egg. Bloody hands gripped the skin from inside and stretched it wide. A bloodied creature emerged from Hawk's flesh, ripping it away and bending double to push it down like a clingy wet suit. It used a scrap of torn denim to wipe blood and gore from its startling blue eyes, took in a hugely deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it go with a whoosh that blew fetid air in her face. Mishvael. Rebecca stared in horrified awe as he wiped himself down with what was left of Hawk's shirt. He was bald, totally hairless all over, and underneath the blood he shone dully like old pewter. His skin looked glassy, hard, like Saul's wing stumps, but everywhere, even his big thick erection. Everywhere except his ice blue eyes that were so like Saul's, and yet so different. 98

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His voice was a deep bass growl. "Saul, old friend, what have they done to you?" Old friend? Saul had no recollection of the creature standing in front of Rebecca, but something still itched at the base of his memory, as it had since he first heard the name of this old demon. "You don't remember me, do you?" Mishvael cocked his head. "Do you remember any of it? Anything at all?" Saul relaxed his aching muscles and prepared for the fight to come. He had neither memories nor an inclination to engage in conversation. Mishvael stretched his arms wide and his whole body trembled while he yawned. "You always were the quiet one, but your hostility saddens me. After everything we experienced together and all we were to each other." He turned full circle to stare around the moonlit amphitheater. "And now we are come to... this." Saul gaped at the burned wing stump scars on Mishvael's back. They were identical to his. "Yes, Saul. We were angels together. And not only angels, but warrior angels. We were glorious, you and I. Glorious and mighty!" Did he just read my mind? "Ha! Of course I read your mind. We spoke thus for millennia. You don't think I would surrender my ability, do you, just because you've been stripped of yours?" "Speak openly." Saul's emotions were churning. He fought hard to give away nothing, but if Mishvael really could read 99

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his mind, he must know he'd tapped into the mystery that had occupied Saul's thoughts ever since he started this life. "Ah, after all this time, the sound of your voice gladdens me. Of what would you like to speak?" He cocked his head the other way. "Shall I tell of how you came to be in this state?" Saul said nothing. "I shall take that as a yes." Mishvael smiled. "And I will tell you the truth. It's about time someone did." Saul's swords shrank and he let his hands hang quietly by his side. He caught Rebecca's gaze briefly. She gave a little shake of the head, which he took as her warning not to trust the other angel. He maintained a bland expression and avoided thinking his agreement. Mishvael surveyed the demon crowd that watched and murmured in shock, waiting for the next development in this drama. He paced back and forth across the front of the stage while he spoke, placing each foot delicately, like a big cat prowling, and his brilliant blue eyes flashed everywhere. "You and I are friends, Saul. We fought side by side in the War of Heaven, from which we emerged victorious and covered with honor. We were warrior angels of a high order. After the War, when the ancestors of this lot..." he jerked a nod at the crowd, "...were thrown out of heaven, we continued to serve. And continued. And continued!" He threw his head back and bellowed into the deep night sky. "And that's all we were good for, wasn't it? Servants! That's all we ever were to You!" 100

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The demon mob squinted upwards as one, and Saul couldn't help following suit, but he saw only stars. Mishvael stopped pacing and breathed steadily for some moments. "Still not remembering anything?" He peered at Saul. "No. They really fucked you up." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I wanted more. We deserved more! You weren't particularly bothered about it. In fact, I knew you disagreed with me about it. But we were brothers-in-arms, and so much more, and your loyalty remained strong. You didn't support me, but neither did you betray me. So, when I rose against Him, when I decided to take what He wouldn't give, and He punished me for my rebellion, He also punished you." Saul couldn't remember any of these things, but he believed Mishvael's story. In his heart, he knew the truth. As always, he possessed the knowledge of it without the memory of it. Mishvael squinted hard at him. "You can nearly remember, can't you? Oh, my friend, how can this be fair? How could He do this to you?" He started pacing again. "I can see what you believe about yourself. What you have believed since you awoke into this nightmare." He stamped to a halt and threw one powerful arm up to point at Saul. "You believe you were sent to Earth as a fallen angel to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. For a crime you can't remember, Saul. For a crime you didn't even commit! And the lie is that they will allow you back in." Hands stretched out to his sides in a plea. "See the lie, Saul!" 101

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But Saul saw nothing; remembered nothing; knew only that which was hardwired into his mind. "How long have you waited? How long will you continue to wait?" He didn't know. "You don't know! Can you not see the cruelty in this? Look what you've become. Look what they did to you. We were glorious, you and I! We can be glorious again. Join me!" Saul believed him. They had been glorious once. He knew it. He felt it in his marrow. And they could be glorious once again. He glanced at Rebecca. "Don't concern yourself with these trifles." Mishvael's voice poured like treacle. "So she's no virgin. It doesn't matter." He sneered at the remnants of Hawk's body. "Her virginity was important only to him. The sacrifice is all, the ceremonial sacrifice of this daughter of two powerful demon families. Sacrifice, ceremony, and worship...these things will build our power." He glared at a demon in the front of the crowd below him. "Worship me!" The demon glared back at him. Mishvael spat, "Vish paka! Dom!" The demon exploded silently in a shower of blood all over his fellows, who pushed back away from where he had been standing and stared at the dark wet smear he'd left on the ground. "Worship me!" he demanded of another. She only stared in dull shock at Mishvael. "Vish paka! Dom!" 102

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Another silent explosion splattered the nearest demons with blood. They pushed back away from the stage. A murmur of fear and distress grew from the crowd and movement rippled through them. Saul almost knew the words Mishvael had used. He could almost taste the language. He glanced at Rebecca again. Mishvael's laughter boomed out and echoed back from the rocks. "Oh, Saul. Oh, no! Saul! You've fallen for this one! How did you ever think you would get back into heaven while you loved a demon? We can fix this, right now." He laughed again as he strode towards her and reached for her heart. Saul leapt across the stage and sliced down with his sword, planning to cut off the outstretched hand. Mishvael jerked his hand back and met Saul's other sword with his own. They stood eye-to-eye for an instant, their four swords locked together. Saul had to act before his thoughts betrayed anyone. He shoved Mishvael from him violently and cut Rebecca's ropes. She collapsed in a heap, but he turned away from her and engaged the onrushing Mishvael. Rebecca couldn't bear the pain. Everything hurt. Everything. Her legs wouldn't work, so she shuffled back and hugged herself, rocking and moaning as pins and needles set her flesh on fire. Saul and the other angel fought like nothing she'd ever seen before. They spun and leapt and flew and cart-wheeled all over the stage, their swords slashing and clashing and striking sparks in the night, and it was all too fast for her brain to follow and it went on, and on, and on. 103

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Demon soldiers wearing Drake uniforms invaded the amphitheater from every direction, abseiling down rock faces all around and firing automatic weapons into the defending crowd, whose fighting fury turned instantly to panic. Helicopters clattered overhead and turned their powerful spotlights on the mob. A wedge of soldiers formed in the bottleneck entrance to the camp and advanced steadily to herd the desert demons back into the center of the camp. And still the two angels battled back and forth on the stage and up and down the rock face and across the ground and back up onto the stage, soundlessly and faster than light. Until, in a split second, it was over. She blinked. Blood pounded in her head and her heart and her throat. It was over. Saul's swords had pierced Mishvael's forearms and pinned him to the rock face in a crucifix shape. The swords were bedded solidly in the rock at the back of the stage. They breathed heavily, almost in unison. "You don't have to do this." Mishvael's voice betrayed his pain hardly at all. "If only you could remember how it used to be for us, you wouldn't let it end like this." "I can't remember, but I don't believe it would change anything if I did." "You think you can use this to buy yourself back into heaven." Saul didn't reply, but he guessed his hope was shining bright.

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"Forget it, Saul. You're as fucked as I am. They'll never let you back now, no matter what." He nodded towards Rebecca, who was being helped to her feet and wrapped in a long coat. His coat. He smiled. I love her. "Doesn't matter. He's a jealous God." "I love her and I love God. I can love them both. Love can never be wrong." "Doesn't work like that." "It does for me." Saul spoke quietly. "Then we'll all go to hell together." Mishvael glared at Rebecca. "Vish pa—" Saul's tongue became a gleaming sword that filled Mishvael's mouth and pierced the back of his neck to embed itself in the rock, pinning his head in place and stopping his words. Mishvael was still very alive, and insane with impotent fury. His eyes blazed. Saul gazed back calmly. "Saul?" His eyes turned towards her and crinkled in a smile. She read his love for her, and his relief that she was safe. She wobbled slightly and Daddy's arm around her shoulders held her firmly. "Saul? How should we deal with this?" He glanced back and forth between her and Daddy, before settling his calm gaze upon her. He was seeing the two demons Mishvael had destroyed. She saw the picture replaying in his mind. 105

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"Yes, I get that." She glanced at Mishvael and shuddered at his malevolent glare. "So, what's next?" she asked Saul. He visualized the Drake helicopters and imagined soldiers taking boxes from them. "What is it, Rebecca?" Daddy hadn't been in the least surprised when she'd phoned and told him she'd become a medium. He'd chuckled and suggested she talk with Mom about that, which surprised the hell out of her. "He's seeing the helicopters and showing me our soldiers lifting off boxes." Daddy nodded. "Explosives?" Yes. She frowned as she nodded. Daddy murmured something to Captain Wilson, who barked a series of orders at people and sent them jogging away. "Saul?" His beautiful eyes held hers. "How are you going to get away?" He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them his love engulfed her. "No!" Horror flooded her. Her legs turned to rubber and her stomach threatened to heave. Daddy shifted his grip to under her armpit and held her tight. "Daddy! We can't do this. Not to Saul! Not Saul!" Her breath was deserting her. Daddy smiled sadly and turned her as if to have her walk away. "No!" She was shouting and crying. "No fucking way!" 106

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Mishvael was laughing. Though his mouth was filled with steel, Saul could hear insane giggles in his mind. He pitied Mishvael in his madness, but right now there were more important things to think about. Soldiers were packing explosives into the rock all around him and Rebecca was screaming his name and fighting her father as she tried to reach him. Saul had to calm her down enough so she could understand. He remembered them making love. "Oh, Saul." She'd got it. She could see the picture too. "I love you. Please don't do this." He kissed her in his mind, and wrapped her in his arms, and stroked her hair back away from her eyes. He loved his flame-haired beauty. He smiled gently in his mind. "I don't accept it's the only way! There has to be something else we can do!" He kissed her again and closed his eyes. Remember I told you how my enemies could destroy me? By destroying the rock I was in? The only way to kill Mishvael is to atomize him. Otherwise, he'll come back. He'll come back and he'll get you. This is for you. "No! Saul, no!" He kept his eyes closed and listened to her screaming his name as they carried her away. She screamed as they put her into a helicopter. He couldn't hear over the noise as the machine took off, but he guessed she was still screaming as they flew her into the night. Silence now. 107

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The charges were set, the amphitheater was cleared, and the soldiers had retired. Only he and Mishvael remained. Mishvael's eyes blazed. Saul gazed back calmly and waited. White light enveloped him. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirteen She sat in the same booth and stared at the bottle of deep amber liquor on the table. Tullamore Dew. She closed her eyes and remembered his voice. Trust me. Once you've tried it, you'll never go back. She sighed and poured two glasses of whiskey. One for her, and one in memory of him. She downed hers. He'd told the truth: it was rich and mellow, with a smoky aftertaste that begged for more. She reached for the bottle, poured another, and savored this one. She'd done a month. The wound was still raw and she was still empty, but she had survived a month. People told her she'd gotten through the worst of it, but what did they know? The only one who knew was Mom. Her mother, the medium. Which blew her mind. One day she'd be able to laugh about how so many things suddenly make sense, like all those stormy teenage times when Mom had taken the wind out of her sails with some sudden astonishing insight or other. One day, she would laugh. But not today. She emptied her glass and replaced it quietly on the table, keeping her eyes closed and bottling the sob inside her. Quiet little bars in lower Manhattan didn't appreciate drunks sobbing in the corner. Her breath trembled, but she held it together. She was getting good at that. 109

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A light movement of sandalwood air announced his arrival in her memories again. Sandalwood, a symbol of spiritual peace and letting-go. One day, maybe. She smiled a grim smile and squeezed her eyelids to hold in the tears. Someone swallowed liquid, breathed a sigh of appreciation, and replaced the glass on the table quietly. What the...? If this was some guy trying to pick her up, he'd soon be wearing his balls for earrings. The seat cushion lifted beneath her as someone sat down, and the scent of sandalwood filled her head. Oh, God. Please don't play with me. I hurt enough already. "Rebecca." She started. Almost cried out, but held it together. This wasn't the first time she'd heard his voice. First time when she was fully awake and out in public, but considering the symbolism of this location maybe she should give herself a break. Whoever he was poured two more glasses of whiskey and pushed one up against her fingers on the table. "Trust me," he said. "Once you've tried it, you'll never go back." She believed. She knew she was heading for more agony when it turned out she was hallucinating, but right now she believed. Right now, he was real and sitting beside her and talking gently and filling her heart with joy. Saul laid his warm hand over hers and she gasped aloud as her heart leapt. "Rebecca." 110

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She opened her eyes and turned her head and looked at him. Oh God, it was him, it was him, it was him. It was him. He opened his arms to her and she fell into him and sobbed. Later, half a hugging crying laughing hugging bottle later, they talked. "How?" "Who knows how?" "What, then?" "He let me back into heaven." "I hoped He would. I knew He should, but, y'know. Anyways, I hoped He would. So how come?" "He gave me a choice. I could stay there. Or I could come back. He said I'm doing good work here and He's okay with that. And He said I was right about the love thing." "The love thing?" "Our love. It's a good thing." The End [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author: Following a rather interesting Royal Navy career, David Bridger settled in England's West Country, where he lives on the coast and writes paranormal romance.

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