Maggie's Angel

An eRedSage Publishing Publication This book is a work of complete fiction. Any names, places, incidents, characters are products of the authors imagination and creativity or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is fully coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever is forbidden. Information: Red Sage Publishing, Inc. • P.O. Box 4844 • Seminole, FL 33775 727-391-3847 • eRedSage.com Maggie’s Angel An eRed Sage Publication • All Rights Reserved • Copyright © 2008 eRedSage is a registered trademark of Red Sage Publishing, Inc. Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.eRedSage.com ISBN: 978-1-60310-210-0 • 1-60310-210-8 • Maggie’s Angel • Adobe PDF ISBN: 978-1-60310-211-7 • 1-60310-211-6 • Maggie’s Angel • MobiPocket ISBN: 978-1-60310-212-4 • 1-60310-212-4 • Maggie’s Angel • MS Reader ISBN: 978-1-60310-213-1 • 1-60310-213-2 • Maggie’s Angel • HTML Published by arrangement with the authors and copyright holders of the individual works as follows: Maggie’s Angel © 2008 By K.C. Sehlhorst Cover © 2008 by Rika Singh, Inc. Printed in the U.S.A. Book typesetting by: Quill & Mouse Studios, Inc. • quillandmouse.com

Maggie’s Angel ***

by K.C. Sehlhorst

To My Reader: Maggie’s Angel, I think, was one of my favorites to write. I love the characters and knew it couldn’t end them with one book. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 1 Maggie leaned against the cold brick of the hospital and pulled a deep drag off her cigarette. Nights like this one always seemed to take a toll on her. She didn’t care what people said. It never got easier. If it did, by now it should have been a piece of cake. People died every day, even in her ambulance. She hurt for every one them. But with her last patient, it had felt like her heart was breaking. Maybe it was the way he grabbed her shirt and begged her to let him go. Or maybe the way he gently touched her cheek when she refused to let him die. The look on his face and in his green eyes as his heart struggled to beat had moved her deeply. Its rhythm still echoed in her mind, promising to haunt her forever. In those final seconds, he had looked happy and almost relieved, knowing he was going to die. His hand had clutched hers, reluctant to let go even as the doctors wheeled him away. She took another drag off the harsh cigarette and gazed up at the black sky. The city lights snuffed out any star that might have shone. It was gloomy all the way around. “You can’t smoke here, Johnson. You know that.” She looked over at the lean blond in doctor’s scrubs coming toward her. “Sue me.” Taking another drag, she released the smoke slowly in his direction. “He died before we got him to surgery. There was nothing you could do.” Her gaze snapped to his face. “I know that.” “He took six bullets to the chest and one to the neck. Two severed arteries. Even if he’d had a surgical team with him when he was shot, he still wouldn’t have made it.” She shrugged. “Who are you trying to convince, Tom? Yourself or me?” “What’s your problem? You see this crap every day, Mags. It happens every day.” She dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with the toe of her boot. “I have a report to fill out. And don’t call me

Mags.” Tom’s mouth dropped at her dismissal and abrupt departure. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She thought he was stupid. Tom had gone through four years of medical school to do the same things she’d learned firsthand in less than a year in the army. He also hadn’t gotten the clue that she wasn’t going to date him simply because he was a doctor. When the doors to the elevator opened at the fifth floor, she went straight to the desk. “Hey, Johnson. I heard.” Gladys, the older desk clerk, handed her a clipboard. “Bad night.” “You could say that.” “You have blood on your face.” Maggie lightly touched the blood streaks on her cheek, remembering the man who’d put them there. Funny, she wasn’t ready to wash it off yet. Too much like admitting defeat. “It’s from the vic I brought in.” “Yeah. They got him in surgery five, waiting for an orderly to take him to the morgue.” It was a fact of life that some people became numb to the tragedies they saw. Gladys was a nice lady, but she had been doing her job too long. It showed. The paperwork was tedious, but it was a necessary part of her job. Maggie had just finished signing her name to the report when two large men in black suits closed in on her space. “I’m Special Agent Casper, and this is Special Agent Lowden.” Badges flashed and disappeared. “FBI.” “Aren’t you two a little cliché, Special Agent?” she couldn’t help asking. Casper’s black eyes pinned on her face. “Funny. We’re here about a John Doe brought in with multiple gunshot wounds. They told us downstairs that he was here.” “Yes, we got him in.” “Good. We’re here to bring him into custody.” Maggie lightly shook her head. “I don’t think he’s going to

cooperate with you.” “And why’s that?” the one named Lowden snapped. He looked like the Lucky Charms’ Leprechaun from hell with his sharp, pointy teeth. “John Doe’s dead.” The men glanced at each other, then back at her. “Are you sure?” “Yeah. I was the EMT who brought him in. Two severed arteries, multiple gunshots. He’s dead.” “Where’s the body?” Lowden practically yelled the question. “That way. OR-5.” Maggie thumbed toward the operating rooms. The men took off as if the devil himself was chasing them. She shook her head. “Fucking feds.” A metallic crash echoed down the hallway. Maggie almost jumped out of her own skin. Time slowed as a white blur streaked across the desk area and broke through the reinforced window. The FBI men charged past her with their guns drawn. They skidded to a halt at the window and began firing at the street below. The gunshots reverberated in Maggie’s head. Shell casings jumped from the guns and dropped to the white linoleum floor. One casing held her attention as it spun with a light grinding sound. She blinked. Time sped up. The men rushed by again, this time to the elevators. She didn’t know what drew her down the hall, but she found herself at the open doorway of the empty operating room. The gurney that the man had been on now lay on its side. Blood was everywhere. The victim, her victim, was missing. She retraced her steps. Smears of blood led toward the window, the only evidence he had really been there. She took a few cautious steps through shell casings and broken glass to look outside. The agents were exiting the building. They peered up and down the empty street. One looked straight up at her, as if he had sensed her watching.

*** Limping heavily into an alley, Gideon cursed under his breath. He had to find a phone and fast. If he didn’t get off the streets he would be dead, and the one person who could help him was probably passed out drunk. While death wasn’t such a bad idea, he wasn’t going to do it in some grungy back alley surrounded by festering dumpsters and the smell of stale urine. The woman’s face flashed in his mind. Her pale blue eyes had filled with compassion when he gripped her shirt and touched her smooth face. For as long as he lived, he would remember those eyes. She had fought for him when she should’ve given up. And not just because it was her job. He felt certain of that. He’d been hoping this death would be his last. Dying with her arms around him had seemed like a good way to go. Too bad it wasn’t the real thing. It never was. Knowing his pursuers the way he did, he had a hunch where they would go if they failed to catch up with him. They’d have smelled his blood on her. If nothing else, he had to get her to safety. Then he could go back to the business of killing them. Hand pressed against the oozing hole in his neck, he stumbled toward a pay phone a few blocks away, set up a collect call, and waited while the phone rang, praying the old man would pick up. Warm blood leaked between his fingers. After what seemed like the hundredth ring, a voice came on the line. Thick, sloppy, it was the sound of a man just roused from a stupor. Gideon cut him off. “Paul. Shut up and listen.” “Eon, that you? What time is it?” Gideon could all but smell the booze through the phone line. “Corner of Sycamore and Titan. Hurry.” Time and strength were seeping away. Gideon hung up. Paul was old and a drunk, but he was dependable. It would take him maybe thirty minutes to get there. Gideon grasped handfuls of the sheet wrapped around him and

tore off several long strips. Teeth gritted, a harsh moan clawing at his throat, he wrapped the strips around his bleeding chest. When he tightened the knot on a strip encircling his throat, searing pain blinded him. Silently, he slid down the wall to wait, hoping no one else wandered by before Paul arrived. His pursuers had gone the other direction, and he would have at least a minute’s warning if they came back. He could sense them. But of course, they could sense him, too. In his present condition, they’d have no trouble taking him out. He let the woman’s face steal back into his mind. It was a peaceful image to fade away with. *** “You look like shit, Eon.” Gideon raised bleary eyes to the ragged man leaning over him. Paul smelled of scotch. His scraggly gray beard and the hair drifting around his shoulders made him look like a vagrant. “Hurry. She’s in trouble.” He groaned as Paul helped him up and towed him into the back of the cargo van. After propping Gideon beside a Harley, Paul shut the doors and climbed over his legs. “She?” “I don’t know her name. She’s in trouble. They’ll run her down, trying to find me. You know what they’ll do to her.” Paul crossed himself and pulled a bottle from a bag. “I’ll get the holes patched up for now and remove the bullets when you’ve got her to safety. Just don’t take too long. You know what these will do to you.” “I sure do.” Steeling himself against the pain he knew was coming, Gideon unwrapped the makeshift bandages so Paul could see the wounds. His own vision started to fog when the old man went to work on his neck, pouring cool clear water in the hole. To keep from screaming, he kicked at the metal wall of the van. His neck burned as the liquid saturated the wound. “Eon. You okay?” “Just finish it!”

The water seared his skin as Paul poured it over his chest. The world went black. But not for long. A moment later, Gideon was staring at the roof of the van, the excruciating pain already dwindling to a dull ache. But he knew from experience that the bullets would soon begin eating at his flesh, and the bleeding would start again. After pulling on the clothes and leather jacket Paul had brought with him, Gideon rolled the bike onto the street. Paul gave him the keys. “How you going to track her down?” With the large bike between his legs, Gideon kick-started it with barely a glance at his friend. “I’ll find a way. I always do.”

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 2 Maggie took the last swig of her beer, threw the bottle in the kitchen trash, and grabbed another from the fridge. Sunlight was just beginning to stream through the window as she crossed to the sofa and dropped like a stone. Most people would criticize her for drinking at eight in the morning. She thought they should mind their own business. To her, eight in the morning was like ten in the evening, a side-effect of working the graveyard shift. After the chaos at the hospital, it had taken another five hours of talking to police, the hospital administrators, and even her boss at the fire department before she was free to head home. Her workday couldn’t have gone any worse. There was, of course, the expected investigation into what had happened. But the fire department had gone a step further, putting her on administrative leave pending the outcome of their internal investigation into her “questionable job performance.” Gladys and even the doctor, Tom, would back her up. She knew her ass was covered. The man had died. She wasn’t even the one who pronounced it. But she also knew it didn’t matter. The department would put a letter of reprimand in her file, let her go back to work, and then look for a way to fire her. Once they did that, she’d never find another job as a medic, not in any city. What surprised her, though, was the utter lack of mention on the morning news. She didn’t know about everyone else, but she found it newsworthy that a dead guy came back to life, jumped from a fifth story window and ran away. There was nothing she could do about it, though. She quickly finished the beer and set the bottle on the table with a heavy thud. Her apartment was small, only one bedroom on the tenth floor, a cave with white walls. It spoke volumes about her lonely life. She didn’t even have a cat. A solitary soul with no one depending on her, or vice versa, and that was just the way she liked it. With a heavy sigh she went into the bedroom, barely more

than a closet with a bed and nightstand, where she removed her shirt and tossed it onto the bed. She was heading for the cupboard beside the door when she heard a sharp noise. It seemed to come from the living room. Before she could react, the thin front door exploded inward. Splintered wood flew in all directions. The two large men from the hospital came through the broken door and hesitated for just a second before heading her way. She rushed to the nightstand, grabbed the handgun from the drawer and aimed it at the bedroom door. She didn’t have to wait long. “Where is he?” the one with pointy teeth demanded as soon as he cleared the doorway. She was shaking inside, but her hands on the gun were steady. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. “It would’ve been nicer to knock” He smiled evilly at her, showing all those sharp teeth. “Here, pretty, pretty, pretty.” “Get the fuck out of my apartment!” she screamed as he moved closer. Satan’s leprechaun jumped across the bed in a single leap. Before she could squeeze the trigger, he had her by the neck and pressed her against the wall. The gun fell from her hand and slid under the bed. Her feet dangled helplessly. Not even her toes touched the carpet. “Where’s the fallen one?” The man had pressed his thumb against her larynx, closing off her air. Bright stars darted in her vision. Blackness filled what was left of it. She could hear the second hand on the clock across the room slowly ticking away what time she had left. The window next to her shattered inward, and glass splinters flew over them all. Startled by the sudden outside attack, Leprechaun loosened his hold enough to let her get a bit of her balance back when her feet hit the floor. With all her strength, she kicked upward and connected with his

balls. Bellowing with rage and pain, he clutched himself and fell over onto the glass-covered floor. She was coughing from the painful rush of air to her lungs. White smoke filled her room so fast, she couldn’t see the door. The fog got denser, but it wasn’t hurting her other then limiting her vision. She wondered where the hell the smoke grenade came from. But then she knew, through the window. Feeling her way across the room, she hoped the men were just as blind as she was. Then a hand closed around her ankle and yanked. She landed hard and looked to where her leg disappeared into the white void. With a balled-up fist, she swung at where she guessed the offender’s face would be. She made contact, but hurt her hand. The demon cursed, and her pain faded with her triumph. Cursing, the man struck back. Sharp nails raked across her neck and chest. She screamed, kicked free of the grip around her ankle, and scrambled away. Before she could get to the wall, someone grabbed her by the waist, hoisting her up and to the side. The hands and the gentle way he picked her up told her it wasn’t one of the two men. Then her rescuer tossed her into the air. Slate gray pavement rushed up at her so fast it barely registered. She was going to die. Just before she closed her eyes, a black and red streak passed her. Another body. She closed her eyes. There was no life flashing before her eyes. No bright light. No impact with the sidewalk. Maggie didn’t even have a chance to breathe let alone think as he tossed her onto a motorcycle and climbed on behind her. Her brain finally kicked in, making her throw her leg back over the bike seat. A thick arm around her waist anchored her against the man and onto the bike. “Get off,” said a male voice, “and you die. Stay on, you live a little longer. I’m trying to save you. Your choice. Three seconds to decide.” Those seconds were the longest of her life. Someone was after her. Why? Who was this man who’d helped her? He had saved her

life. She was indebted to him, but she didn’t even know who he was. She climbed off the bike and looked at him. A gasp escaped her throat at the dead man on the seat. Those dark green eyes watched her carefully. His face spoke of the hell he’d been through, but that made him handsome in a rough, beaten up, been-through-the-worst-you-could-throw-at-me-and-survived look. He was huge and wide-shouldered, with light red hair that hung in waves below his shoulders, giving him a bit of an Irish look. Even his light red mustache and goatee were appealing. He was one of those men that got more handsome the more you looked at him. Clattering sounds from overhead. Maggie jerked her attention to the shattered window and saw one of her attackers climbing out. Without another thought, she jumped onto the back of the bike and, after she gripped his waist tightly, they sped off. How could anyone control a bike at neck-breaking speeds on a city street? But he was doing it. Her body leaned with his as he swung around the corners, pressing their bodies tighter together. She was running for her life. A feeling, one she knew well and always listened to, made her certain that whatever had happened would not simply come to an end. This wasn’t an isolated incident. Life as she knew it was gone forever. What surprised her was that she didn’t really mind. What was there to miss? An empty apartment, a job that was looking for a way to fire her, a family? The wind whipped though her hair, pulling it free of the rubber band that had been holding it in place. She didn’t care. At this moment, with no control over her own existence, she noticed only the coolness of his leather jacket against her cheek, the way his hair brushed against her cheeks, the width of his torso and how it felt under her hands. Of their own accord, her fingers moved against his chest, feeling his muscles bunch as he swerved around another corner. She felt something else, too, a warm wetness, and brought her hand back to

see her fingers covered in bright red blood. “Stop! You have to stop!” “Almost there.” “You’re bleeding!” “You think I don’t know that? Hold on!” He turned another corner and ducked his head as he rammed the bike though a set of thick wooden doors. Inside the building, the bike skidded. He put his boots down to cut the speed, but she could feel him losing control. The heavy machine tilted, tossing her from the back. She tried not to scream as she landed on her arm, slid across the rough floor, and crashed into a table. It collapsed on top of her. The room went silent. She listened to her own harsh breathing, mentally shoving the pain in her shoulder away. She moved the pieces of broken wood off her body and struggled to her feet, looking for him. He wasn’t hard to find. The bike was on top of his motionless form. She carefully made her way across the room, clutching her useless arm to her side. She didn’t need a doctor to tell her the shoulder was dislocated. Crouching beside the man, she saw that he was still breathing. Blood flowed freely from his chest and neck. Using a chair for leverage, she pulled herself up and braced herself against the nearest wall. She’d be as useless as her arm if she didn’t get the dislocated joint back in place. She slammed it into the stone wall, heard a loud pop and her own muffled cry of pain. It would hurt for days, but at least she could use it again. She grabbed the bike with both hands and struggled to lift it away from his prone body, not at all sure she could manage. But she did, and it was off to the next crisis. The bleeding had to be stopped. A quick look around, and she spotted a low table with only a few items on it. Maggie looped his arm around her neck, wrestled him up, and dragged him across the room. A swipe of her arm cleared the table top. With care, she stripped off his jacket, laid the unconscious man out on his back, and ripped

open his shirt. The bullet wounds she had tried to fix only hours earlier were gushing again as if new. The skin around them appeared scarred, oddly seared, but the unmistakable darkness in the holes told her the bullets remained deeply buried. The doctors at the hospital hadn’t removed them. He had died before they could. Or so they’d thought. She dashed around the dim room, gathering up a pair of needlenose pliers, a sharp knife, some thread and a needle, and a bottle of vodka. A bit arcane, but she’d worked with less. When she’d drenched her tools and the bullet holes in alcohol, she made a careful incision with the knife and pulled apart the skin on his neck. Normally she wouldn’t bother with the bullets there because of the severed arteries. But he had somehow survived the damage, so the next thing to do was extricate the bullet fragments. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She wiped it off with the back of her hand. One by one she drew pieces of metal from his neck and dropped them into a glass. When the last piece was out, she did a final search for lurkers before stitching the wounds. Something soft patted her forehead. Swallowing a scream, she looked over to see a man with a cloth in his hand. He reeked of booze and sweat. “How’s he doing?” He gestured to the man on the table. She couldn’t help but stare, the needle forgotten in her hand. The fact she was cutting and stitching a dead man didn’t even faze him. The raggedy man pointed to the needle and thread. “Do you want me to do that, or you got it?” “Uh, no. I’m nearly finished here. But the bullets in his chest need to be taken care of.” She went back to cutting the string and closing the wound on his neck. “Fancy work. You a doctor?” He leaned forward to get a better look. “A medic. Are you afraid I’m going to kill him?” The old man smiled and produced a lit cigarette from some-

where, smoking it as he walked around the table. “If you were going to hurt Eon, you’d have slit his throat instead of stitching him up. Drink?” He held out a rum bottle. The offer was tempting. “Maybe when I’m done. You got a towel?” He scrounged around, finally producing a towel and tossing it at her. She looked at the smears of dirt and grunge. “Give me the bottle.” He watched, protesting until she silenced him with a look and poured the rest of the rum over the towel. It wasn’t the best in the world, but there was enough alcohol in it to kill just about anything. “That was good rum!” the man yelled over his shoulder. He lurched across the room to retrieve another bottle. “You don’t want him to get an infection, do you?” “Who, Eon?” The man laughed and stumbled back to her with a bottle of whiskey. “He can’t catch anything. You could sew monkey shit in those holes and he’d be just fine. Not even death can catch up with him.” She looked at the man on the table. His light red hair covered parts of his face. It was so soft. She let it stream between her fingers as she brushed it away from his face. And he had a name. Eon. She let it roll around in her mind. Breathed it in a whisper. “It’s Gideon.” The dead man opened his eyes and gazed back at her. Stretched out on the table, riddled with holes and pain she could only imagine, he was unnaturally calm, his expression ineffably peaceful. “Maggie. I’m Maggie.” It sounded funny as it came out of her mouth. His face twisted, bringing her back to the task of digging out the bullets. “Shit. Um, here, give me the whiskey.” The old man reluctantly handed it over. As gently as she could, she lifted Gideon’s head and supported it in the crook of her arm. “Drink.”

When he’d been asleep, she didn’t have to worry about his pain. Now he was awake, opened, and being picked at. Unbearable, as she knew from experience. He looked at her for a split second before chugging a third of the whiskey. She took a hearty swig of her own before thrusting the bottle at the old man. The whiskey burned its way down. She picked up the knife, hoping the alcohol would steady her shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is going to hurt.” “You underestimate yourself, Maggie. You’re much gentler than Paul.” He gave her a little smile and closed his eyes again. He didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch when she dug the metal out of him. Finally, with the last stitches in place, she stood back and examined her handiwork. Not perfect by the standards of a surgeon, but it was good. The old man returned with another bottle in hand and poured clear liquid over each bullet wound. Slowly, white smoke and tiny bubbles leaked from the incisions. “What the hell did you put on him?” Paul started to chuckle. “Holy water.” “Holy water, my ass. It’s acid!” She tried to get to Eon. But the old man was a hell of a lot stronger and more energized than she’d realized. She struggled uselessly in his grip. “Be still,” he said, “and watch.” Releasing her, he picked up the glass with the bullets and fragments in it and poured the water over them till they were saturated. The water boiled. Churned. The glass exploded. “Cursed,” Paul said. “If something cursed is covered with what’s holy, it’s destroyed. For him, the water destroys what the demons left, and it heals him.” She couldn’t help but gawk. “You’re nuts.” He laughed and turned away. “I’ve been called worse.” She watched him stagger across the room and up an old wooden staircase. For the first time, she realized there was more to this building than the room they were in.

Sighing, she went exploring and found a bedroom. In the adjacent bathroom she washed up as best she could. Blood seemed glued to her skin. To get rid of it, she scrubbed herself nearly raw. After filling a clean bowl with water and finding a reasonably clean rag, she went back to Gideon. Sponge baths were usually considered seductive, and for the first time she probably would have found this one so, if he hadn’t been hurt and unconscious. Even so, her hand trembled when she daubed the flesh around the stitches on his neck. Earlier, blood had covered almost every inch of him. Now she could see that half the left side of his chest was pocked with what appeared to be old burns stamped with new ones. A few holes and lines intermixed with the burns. The scars traveled over his shoulder and down his arm. Even his left hand was overlaid with tough, weathered old scars. She let her fingers run over them, feeling the time and pain it took to get them. Scars faded to nearly smooth skin on the other side of his chest. Only a few faint lines marred that half. The man was intriguing, to say the least. Fit. Strong. Had they met in different circumstances, she might have been interested. Hell, she was interested now. Not that it mattered. When the pink water had been poured down the drain, she realized just how tired she was. Taking his jacket for a pillow, she lay down beside a wall where she could easily see and hear him if he awoke. The old man’s words kept running though her head. She was in hell for sure. A chaotic, head-twisting, mental-case hell.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 3 Gideon sat up on the table and gingerly touched the thread laced though his body. The lady had done a bang-up job on patching him up. He doubted there would even be a scar. She had fought for him again. It confused him. He found her curled in a ball on the cold and dirty floor, with only his black leather jacket for a pillow. She was lying there in nothing but a pair of jeans and a lacy black bra, her arms wrapped around herself against the chill. Personally, he would have used the jacket as a blanket. Pretty, he thought. Even beautiful. But it was the inner strength he’d glimpsed in her that made her truly captivating. When he lifted her in his arms, she twisted so that her face was pressed against his bare chest. He didn’t fail to notice her bruised shoulder, the finger marks around her throat, and the cuts that trailed down her neck and chest. She had taken one hell of a beating because of him. But instead of complaining or becoming hysterical, she’d fixed him. She’d done far more than he’d thought she might do, more than most people would do. So he couldn’t let her stay on the hard floor. Later, when she awakened, he’d help with her injuries. He’d been in enough fights and wars to know that what she needed right now was a restful sleep. He quietly nudged open the door to his room and placed her on his bed. Her boots were the only problem. Hard to get comfortable wearing those. He started unlacing the one nearest him and almost got a mouthful of leather when she kicked out in her sleep. Chuckling, he finished removing the boots, covered her with the thick comforter, and left her to sleep, shutting the door behind him. Paul was in his own little room, passed out on his bed. Empty bottles and packs of cigarettes littered the dirty space. Gideon kicked the metal bed frame and waited for his friend to stir. It didn’t take long.

Paul looked up sleepily. “So that was one hell of a fight. You almost didn’t make it.” “I wish. My time here isn’t done.” “The lady doc stitched you up nice. Don’t see the point in it, though.” Rubbing his hands together, Gideon sat on the broken-down chair in the far corner of the room. He didn’t want a debate with his old friend about what he could and couldn’t do. What he wanted was a shower. “Just because I can survive pain and bullets doesn’t mean I like to, or want to.” “Why’d you even pretend to be asleep? I know you weren’t.” “For her peace of mind. She needed to concentrate on what she was doing. Besides, I did pass out for parts of it.” Paul was struggling to sit up. The image of her gently touching him as she washed the blood off replayed in Gideon’s mind. It had been an eternity since someone took that kind of care with him. Whether it was needed or not wasn’t the point. “I want you to go to the store,” he said. “Soap, first-aid supplies and such.” “So we’re going girly for the girl.” Paul laughed. “Just get what we need.” Then he thought about it some more. “Towels. Don’t forget a new set of towels.” “We aren’t made of money, Eon.” “We can afford new towels.” Paul slumped out of the room, grumbling about the waste of money on someone who’d be gone by nightfall. The shower felt invigorating as Gideon let the hot water melt away the tension in his shoulders. So much had happened in the last twelve hours. He almost hadn’t made it this time. They were getting smart and dangerous, involving humans more than they used to. That left no doubt in his mind. They were gearing up for something. Wrapped in a towel, he searched through the old dresser in the corner of his room and pulled out a clean pair of jeans. As he tugged them over his hips, he watched her sleep. She had flopped

around and thrown an arm above her head. Her long sandy blond hair lay loose over the pillow. The cover he had carefully placed over her had been tossed off. The bruises on her shoulder had darkened. The claw marks looked red and angry. Deep purple marks circled her slim throat. It wasn’t hard to imagine the strength used to make them. He saw faint scars reach across her stomach and disappear under her jeans, and another scar high on her uninjured shoulder. When she rolled over, there was an old round scar between her shoulder blades next to her spine and a few more littered across her lower back. He wondered what hell she had been through. Urban warfare? She wasn’t that old, maybe middle or late twenties. But whatever life she’d led up to this point had not been a nice one. It had added years to her soul. Perhaps he was drawn to her for that reason. He didn’t know what came over him. Suddenly he needed to be close to someone who’d had a glimpse of his life. Or maybe it was her softness. Her availability. The fact that she had taken the time to care. He climbed onto the bed and lay beside her. His fingers lightly brushed her scars in a knowing way. He had a few himself. “Bullets,” she whispered, startling him. She was awake! And she hadn’t said anything when he’d crawled in with her. He drew a long breath. “I know.” Her skin was silky. It felt great to touch someone again. “You died.” He suppressed a laugh. “I’ve done that a few times.” She rolled onto her side, facing him and grimacing as her bad shoulder took the brunt of her weight. He started to reach out to help her, but she fell again onto her back. With a little juggling she got the pillow propped behind her so she could see him without putting weight on the injured arm. So many questions had to be running through her mind. And yet her blue eyes remained clear and sharply focused on him. “You

threw me out a window,” she said. He couldn’t help but chuckle. The only complaint she had was being thrown out of a window? “Yes, I did.” “You died.” The corners of his mouth twisted upward again. “We already covered that.” Finally she smiled. Her entire face lit up. “You look pretty spry for a dead man.” He laughed. Of all the things she might have said, that wasn’t what he’d been prepared for. “I am.” The scars caught his eye again. His fingers felt the rough bumpy edge and the pit in the center of the one just above her waistband. Scars told a lot about a person. Their pains. Their lives. If he listened or looked close enough, even their likes and dislikes. She wore hers like a badge of honor. They were more rough than smooth, so maybe she hadn’t done anything to diminish them. Her hand traveled up the disfigured skin on his chest. She seemed content to touch him the same knowing way he touched her. Her fingers slid up his neck and entwined in his hair, pulling him down to her. Their eyes met. He found it interesting the way people bonded. For some it was wine and flowers. Others over heated arguments. For them, it was the scars. Her lips were warm and full, an eternity of conclusions in one kiss. She slowly pulled on his body until it was over her like the blanket she had discarded. The tender caress on his back sent powerful waves through him. There was nothing she could have done to excite him more. Her hands didn’t hesitate at the rough scars. He never imagined a woman would be so accepting of his deformities. When she got to the scars on his lower back, heated shivers ran through him. His arm slid under her hips, pushing her against him. Her back arched and her luscious breasts pressed against his bare chest. He liked the way she responded to him, as if they were two souls touching in a kiss. She opened to him and moaned as his

tongue toyed with hers. She tasted faintly Paul’s cheap whiskey. Later, he’d get this woman the good stuff. The kissing alone was a piece of heaven, but he wanted more. No, he needed more. But he wasn’t sure how to take the next step or whether it was okay. It had been so long that he wasn’t certain he remembered how. Part of him was relieved when she made the decision for him. Her smooth hands slid down his back into his jeans, her nails digging lightly into his ass, and pulled him even harder against her. He could feel her heat through the heavy denim as she pressed closer. The desire between them, mutual and imperative, made his cock ache. With her hair spilled around her, she looked like an angel. Her face was radiant, shining with the ecstasy of his touch. Even her body seemed to glow. He left little delicate kisses on her lips before trailing them down her neck. Her body quivered when he placed a lingering kiss on the scar on her shoulder. Maggie reckoned that if she could purr, that would have started her up. His lips drifted between her breasts and his body slid down hers. He kissed every scar she had, as if marking his acceptance of them. Her skin tingled when his fingers brushed down her sides and found the snap of her jeans. She moaned, tried to hold still, but with every kiss of his full lips, her body rose to meet him. Never in her life had a man treated her so gently. It aggravated and thrilled her at the same time. When he unzipped her jeans, she raised her hips so that he could slide them off. He peeled off her underwear at the same time. A silly little grin showed on his face when she removed her bra and flung it to the side. Continuing with his gentle kisses, he moved up her body. She felt herself getting wetter by the second. His mustache and goatee tickled her skin and sent the butterflies in her stomach to her throat. He seemed to notice and rubbed his chin against her belly button again. Being tickled never felt so much like a caress. She wanted to laugh and moan in pleasure at the same time.

Slowly he made his way back up until he reclaimed her mouth. His tongue dipped inside, tasting every inch of it. She undid the button on his jeans and pushed them down his hips. When she got them as far as she could, she brought her legs up around him and used her feet to push them the rest of the way off. He pressed his hard cock against her, making her gasp at the size of him. She wished she could see in him all his glory, but the needs of their bodies were too demanding. What was it about this man that made her crave him so intently? Gideon, feeling her soft wetness against him, almost lost it then and there. Then she rose up to meet him. He slid into her until there was nowhere left to go. He couldn’t think. He could scarcely breath. She was paradise, heaven, ecstasy. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her head fell back. He groaned when her legs came up and bent around him. A protest escaped her when he pulled almost completely out, only to shove himself back into her. Her arms wrapped around him. She pressed her full breasts against him. He wanted to taste them, to lick and suck on them. Later. Now that he had her, he wasn’t letting her go. That thought didn’t help as she rocked her hips with every thrust. She made hard gasps and little moans each time, her body tightening even more around him. The woman was going to drive him insane. Maggie felt the scream forming in her throat. Size had never been an issue with her, but man did this guy have it. The full slow thrusts sent her mind spinning, created such deep tension that droplets of sweat formed on her skin. Her fingers slid over his back, feeling there the same mist of desire. It was like being on a slow roller coaster as it drove its way up a gigantic hill, the anticipation relentlessly building to a peak. The sweeping fall, she knew, would take her breath away. Her eyes opened to see him watching her. His grip around her tightened as he lowered his head, kissing her shoulder again. His deep thrusts never stopped. Then the climax was on her, sweep-

ing over her. A broken cry, hers, she thought. Her body convulsed around him. When she came, squeezing him, Gideon couldn’t help but come with her. His body shuddered. He spilled his hot cum inside her. Even when the shivers stopped and their breathing slowed, he felt her heartbeat against his chest. Knew she felt his heartbeat as well. With a soulful sigh he rolled onto his side, arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against him. The woman had no idea what they’d just done, nor of the consequences of their actions. But soon enough, she would understand. He wasn’t going to scare her with it now, though. Not until the time came.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 4 “Eon.” Gideon cracked open his eyes. Paul was standing in the doorway, a stack of light blue towels in his arms, a hesitant expression on his face. He placed the towels and a plastic bag on the chair beside the door and shuffled away. Gideon looked at the woman asleep in his arms. He felt happy, honestly happy, for the first time in a long time. If only they could stay together there, in his bed. But that wasn’t an option. Careful not to disturb her, he slowly eased out of her sleeping embrace, pulled on his jeans and boots, and went to the main floor of the building. Sadness crept through him, as it always did whenever he stopped to look at his surroundings. The old church, long abandoned, stood smack in the middle of the bad part of town. Apparently even gangs and criminals had a code of ethics, because they’d never claimed it for themselves. Gideon’s room was behind the altar area. The old stairs in the back led to the patched-up choir loft, now Paul’s room. They purposely had left the main floor dirty and wrecked. The pews had been cleared out long ago. What furniture remained, and what had been brought in later, was scattered around the room. Some pieces were broken. Some were so dusty the type of wood was unidentifiable, but a few pieces were still intact. The stained glass windows depicting praying saints were filthy and covered with cobwebs. If anyone did wander inside, they would think everything they saw what it appeared to be. The treasure of this place was the basement. A huge wooden crucifix still hung on the wall. Gideon kissed his own fingers, touched the statue’s feet, and pushed on the nail. Beside him, the floor opened. Ducking to avoid the low overhang, he went down the stairs and found Paul leaning over a table, cigarette dangling from his mouth, drawing on a map. His friend was having one of his rare lucid dry

periods, which were becoming more infrequent as the years went by. Even with the bright lights overhead, the room was dim. Locked metal cabinets stood along nearly every wall. The little space that remained was crammed with pictures, maps, and notes. Another table sat against the far wall. “So that’s why. The girl.” Paul looked up from the map, his reading glasses slipping down his square nose. Smoke from the cigarette curled in front of his smiling face. “It’s not like that.” “I’m old, Eon. I’m a priest. That doesn’t mean I’m dead or stupid. Not my type, but I can see she appeals to you.” “The only type you have is a twenty-year-old bottle of scotch. At least my type is legal in any dose.” “As if you care about the laws of men.” Gideon folded his arms over his bare chest and leaned against a cool metal cabinet. “I serve a higher purpose.” “So you have sex with the woman who tried to save you? This isn’t like you.” Paul leaned forward for a better look at his face. “Don’t.” Something passed over Gideon, something close to being dangerous. “What do you have?” Shrugging, Paul returned his attention to the map. “They’re trying to open another portal. That makes three in the last month. They’re up to something.” “They’ve been up to assorted somethings for an eternity. Trust me, I know. But why now?” The old man’s lips tightened. “I think,” he said slowly, “they’re coming after you.” “That’s nothing new, either.” “Yes, we were always hunting them. Now it appears they are hunting you. This last portal is on the bridge a quarter mile away, and it’s a big one. Big enough for an army to come through.” “Portal?” Maggie’s soft question startled them as she paused halfway down the stairs. The air caught in Gideon’s throat when he saw her. She was

wearing one of his black t-shirts. It was baggy on her, just coming to her knees, showing her legs to perfection. He remembered what they’d felt like around him. Sexy. Inviting. Her hair hung to the middle of her back, all but one long, dark blond swath fallen over her cheek. Before he could imagine what she might be thinking about this place and what she had heard, she turned and ran back up the stairs. Gideon took off after her. She had almost reached the doors. He couldn’t let her go. It was for her safety. His safety. He couldn’t let leave the church. Soundlessly he leaped and came down directly in front of her, blocking the door. Her eyes widened with shock a split second before she ran into his chest. She didn’t flinch, though. Just bounced off him and used the force to change directions. A pillar blocked her, and she dodged around it. She was light on her feet, twisting out of reach every time he grabbed for her. It became a dangerous game of cat and mouse. “Don’t come near me, you fucking loon!” “Calm down, Maggie! I can explain!” She dodged him again and ran behind another thick gray-stone support beam. “You’re crazy!” When she turned, he managed to snag the back of her shirt and yanked her against his chest. She went on struggling, fighting him, although his arms were clamped around her like iron bands. He swiveled away from her kicking legs and evaded her head when she tried to slam it into his face. But he couldn’t avoid the fingernails clawing at his arms. “I can explain all of this.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You’re crazy! I can’t believe I fucked you!” “Well, I didn’t fuck you! Give me ten minutes. Let me explain. If you don’t believe me, then you can go.” Her body jerked to the left. She let out a shriek. He released her instantly, watched her stumbling forward, away from him, clutching her bad arm. About ten feet away, she spun

around, more hair falling over her face. Her eyes were clear. Pain seemed to be an anchor for her. “Look,” he said. “Just give me a few minutes. I can fix your arm. I promise.” He waited for her to decide. At length, she shook her head. When he started to reach for her, she widened the distance between them. “Don’t touch me.” There was nothing else to do but lead her back to the basement room. They had come to a careful truce, but it was a beginning. Paul looked up from the map as they entered. “So you’re back?” He took a long drag of his cigarette. She stepped around Gideon, gesturing at the pack. “Can I have one of those?” Paul grinned. “Sure.” As soon as she had it lit, she turned to Gideon. “Your ten minutes are ticking away.” “The men who attacked you are demons in human form. They break into this world using portals.” “Stop right there. I know one of them looked like Satan’s leprechaun, but I think demon may be a little strong. Don’t you?” “Not really, considering it’s the truth.” Gideon couldn’t repress a laugh. “Satan’s leprechaun isn’t far from the truth, I must say. Which one was that?” “How the hell should I know? Big. Dark eyes. Sharp, pointy teeth. Looks like he eats people.” “That’s Tobias.” Gideon could see her exasperation. “And he does.” “Great. So we have demons, a portal, and a cannibal leprechaun. What else is there?” “I beg your pardon?” Paul crushed his cigarette into an ashtray that was holding down one corner of the map. “Come on,” Maggie said. “I know there’s more. Might as well get it all over with. I already think you both belong in the loony bin. So come on. Lay the rest of your delusions on me.” Paul looked over his glasses at her. “What we’re telling you is

real and the truth.” “Just tell me!” “Fine!” Gideon shot back. “Fine. I’m a fallen angel. Paul is a priest. I’ve been on earth more than three hundred years, trying to hold back the demons. They mean to start a new war, one worse than the war of heaven. This time, humans will be involved. I’ve died over a hundred times. I can’t stay dead! God isn’t done with me. I pissed him off and I’m still paying. This is the only way I can serve and make amends. I hold the demons back. When they open portals, I close them.” Maggie put out her cigarette. “Your ten minutes are up.” Arms crossed over her chest as if guarding herself, she climbed the stairs and disappeared through the hole in the ceiling. “She’s going to get herself killed,” Paul said. “And possibly us.” Gideon glanced at his friend. “Do you really think she’d lead them back to us?” “She doesn’t know what she’s involved in, doesn’t know what to look for. It could happen so fast she’d have no choice.” “Dying would be a privilege for me,” Gideon said after a moment. “And I know you’re tired after all you’ve seen.” “Yes. But I for one don’t want to die in their hands. Where are you going?” “Wherever I have to.” Gideon was already ascending the stairs. “I can’t let her go yet.” *** Maggie, in her jeans again, was putting on her boots when Gideon came in. She expected anything from him at this point, but the calm, watchful gaze wasn’t it. Neither was the fact he wasn’t saying anything. When she thought about it, she’d been expecting a fight. Hell, she was more than ready for one. “Sorry I’m taking your shirt,” she said. “It looks better on you anyway. They’ll be gunning for you. They’re like hound dogs. They can scent and track. They know you’ve been with me. They know you helped me.” He stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his massive

chest. With him looking down at her, she finally took in the whole of his impressive physique. At five-seven, she was slightly tall for a woman, but he stood a head taller. What with his muscled arms and wide chest, he was twice her size. Even with facial hair, his face was angelic and soulful. She noticed for the first time that his left front tooth had a small chip in it. There was attraction between them. Even she couldn’t deny it. There was something else between them, too, something she longed to explore. But there was no time. No opportunity. It helped, she had to admit, that Gideon and Paul were crazy as loons. She felt no hesitation. “Thanks, but I’ll take my chances.” When she started to leave, he grabbed her good arm and tightened his grip when she tried to pull away. “You promised.” Her voice was a cracked whisper. He didn’t move or let go. “Yes, I did.” She swallowed a moan when he drew closer and pressed her against the doorframe with his body. His hand slid between them and tugged the edge of her shirt, freeing it from between their hips. His dark green eyes stared down at her, holding her entranced. Rough, ridged skin pressed against her stomach under the shirt, his fingers stretching out to touch more of her. “You promised.” This time she could hear the plea in her voice. But what was she asking him to do? Stop? Release her? Continue touching her? She locked her hands on the doorframe behind her to keep from touching him. Her shoulder was throbbing, but she pushed aside the pain. Her skin was tingling. Her breathing picked up when his hand lightly teased the side of her breast. Even through the lacy bra, his simple touch caused her nipples to tighten, straining to be closer. But his hand moved again, and before she realized where it was going, his fingers dug into her shoulder. It burned and burned. She couldn’t bear it. Under the pressure, her shoulder began dropping. She couldn’t hold it up much longer. Tears sprang to her eyes. Pain radiated through her body. But it was his eyes she feared. Usually kind and compassionate,

they were the cold green of arctic seawater. As if he cared nothing about the pain he was inflicting on her. It grew immeasurably worse. A cry ripped from her throat. Suddenly his hand grew warmer still. She couldn’t tell if the heat came from his skin or from hers. And then she felt the warmth, his warmth, seeping into her, cooling the burning pain. All the dull aching and tenderness from her shoulder eased away, leaving her with the effects of a week-old bruise. He wasn’t finished. His hand slid under the shirt and found the edges of the claw marks on her neck. As if his fingers were a paintbrush and she a canvas, they glided down the deep red scratches in one stroke. The angry burning cooled and was gone. When he slipped his hand from under her shirt, she missed the contact of his skin on hers. She had never before craved another person’s touch before. And whatever he had done all but erased the damage from the last twelve hours. Too bad he was crazy. She’d have loved the chance to let him touch her again. Perhaps allow herself to touch him in return. “My promise is now fulfilled,” he said. “I’m asking you to stay, to give me time to prove what we have told you.” She watched his lips move and wanted to kiss them. But if she let him get that far, she would be tempted to stay with him. And she couldn’t. With a small side-step, she freed herself and headed for the double doors. He spoke quietly. “I’ve never fucked anyone. In my entire life, I have made love to only two women.” She paused. “Now I’m number three.” “You’re number two. The first was my wife. The one who I gave up my life for.” With effort, Maggie placed one foot in front of the other until she was out the doors and walking along the bright street. She honestly didn’t know what to do with his unexpected revelation. It thrilled her to be that special to someone, and it also scared her to the core.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 5 The police were swarming all over her apartment building by the time she got back. There was even a cop standing at the broken window of her apartment, looking out. Not sure why—instinct, perhaps—she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked away. That life was over. There was nothing in her place of any importance. Her job was all but gone. She had no family, nothing important to hang onto. She needed only her wallet, snug in her back pocket, and the change of clothes in her locker at work. *** Exiting the cab, she saw that the fire engine and other trucks were out on call, meaning only one person left in the building for her to evade. She didn’t want to answer any questions. Without difficulty she padded up the stairs to the locker room and was stuffing her few possessions into an empty workout bag when her luck changed. “Johnson! Thank God!” Maggie jumped, heart in her throat, and spun around. A uniformed policeman stood between the two walls of lockers, blocking her only way out. “Shit, Trevon!” She took a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me.” “What do you think you did to us? We got men searching everywhere for you. We thought you were kidnapped, or maybe killed. There’s blood all over your apartment!” His hand went to the radio on his shoulder. “Trevon.” She shut her locker and moved toward him. “Don’t.” “I have to let them know you’re safe. And they need to question you.” “Please don’t.” She stopped a few feet from him, relieved when he removed his hand from the radio. “I have to disappear.” “What kind of shit are you in?” “I’m… not sure. But it has something to do with the John Doe we took in last night.”

“I heard about that. The FBI’s looking into it, too. What’s going on?” “They’re not FBI. They’re the ones who attacked me this morning. I have to go. Please, Trevon. For old times?” Jaw clenched, he looked around with his hands on his belted hips. “Only you would try blackmailing me with that.” But he took a step back, giving her room to pass. “Thanks.” “I can get in so much trouble for this. You better give me a call and keep me up to date. I lost you once. That’s not going to happen again. Is it?” “I will. And no, it isn’t.” She gave him a light smile and ran out the door. The sun was setting, giving the building a creepy overcast gloom. Something moving out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Two men stood on the sidewalk at the far end of the building, watching. Waiting for her to come out. “Here, pretty, pretty, pretty.” The dark leprechaun grinned at her. Hands loose and empty at their sides, they started to walk toward her. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Leprechaun produced a wicked-looking black sword. She broke out in a cold sweat. Her heartbeat picked up. Blood pounded in her ears. She turned to run. But she was stopped short by Gideon’s massive chest just behind her. He was glaring over her head at the two men. She barely glimpsed the stone-cold look in his eyes before he swiped her behind him with one arm and planted himself like a shield against the enemy. The two men stopped. Tobias, as Gideon had called him, lost his smile. “Hello, fallen one.” Gideon nodded. “Tobias.” The men started moving again, murderous intent plain on their faces. Gideon dropped to one knee. Slammed his hand against the pavement. Brilliant white light shot from the ground, and when he stood, a bright silver sword followed his hand out of the asphalt.

He lofted the sword in a firm grip. Three men with swords about to rumble behind the fire department. Someone had just dropped her into a nightmare. The men were advancing. Gideon’s grip on the sword tightened. Then she saw the pistol clipped to Gideon’s belt. Enough with this medieval bullshit. She pulled the gun from the holster, flipped off the safety, and leaned sideways to fire past him. The world went slow again. That always happened when things got violent, and she had gotten used to it a long time ago. She took aim. Saw the first man fall when her bullet hit him in the forehead. Tobias was more resilient. She squeezed the trigger again and again, emptying the clip into his chest. His agonizing scream, a hollow, multi-toned echo, sent shivers through her. But she didn’t stop firing until the slide froze back and the gun clicked. Then everything sped up again. A blank look on his face, Tobias dropped to his knees and fell forward. The bodies started smoking. The stench of disintegrating flesh overwhelmed her. Vomit rose to her throat. Hand over her mouth, unable to turn away, she watched the bodies glow red and begin to melt like hot wax. A black pit opened under them. The red goo poured into the hole. Then it closed, leaving no trace of the demons. It was too much. Her stomach convulsed. She reached for the wall to steady herself. Slid to her knees. Vomit burned as it forced its way up her throat, splashing against the wall and pavement. Tears burned her eyes. Someone threaded fingers though her hair and held it back until the sickness passed. She spat, and spat again to rid her mouth of the taste. Wiped her tears away. And saw Trevon moving forward with his gun pointed at Gideon. “Trevon, no.” She put herself between Gideon and Trevon’s weapon. Gideon stood motionless, watching. “Who is this guy? What in hell going on?” “He’s a friend. He saved me when the two fake FBI guys at-

tacked me at my apartment. Put the gun down, Trevon. Please.” He blinked at the gun in his hands as though he had forgotten it was there. Carefully he put it in its holster. “Maggie.” Gideon’s voice was low and compelling. “We have to go.” Yes, they needed to go. “Trevon.” She managed a bonding smile. “I don’t fully know what’s going on. I just need you to trust me. I’ll call when I can. Cover for me, please?” “Man, Johnson, you so owe me.” He looked scared and disgusted. And she didn’t blame him. Gideon wrapped a large arm around her waist. She welcomed his support. With another smile at Trevon, she let Gideon steer her to the bike. She might have fought him. Could have run again. But what was the point? He’d said the demons would find her, and they had. Before she could run and hide again, she needed to learn more about the enemy. *** Gideon had been watching her since she left the church. He’d been around demons long enough to know they would hit him where it hurt. In three hundred years, he’d given them no such target, left open no such vulnerable place. Not until today. He’d also been shocked as hell when said vulnerable target grabbed his gun and took out Tobias and the goon. He yelled over the sound of the Harley engine. “Still think I’m crazy?” “I just shot two men who melted into the concrete. I don’t know what I think.” “Where’d you learn to shoot like that? And who was your friend?” “Jamal Trevon. A war buddy. When we got out of the army, we each relocated here without realizing the other was around. Then we showed up at the same accident site and, well…. Where’d they go?”

He understood her sudden change of topic. He kept his eyes pinned on the road. “Back to hell. When the demon’s body dies, he remains there until he’s strong enough to possess another. Tobias will return. I’ve been fighting him since before I fell.” “How easy is it to open a portal?” “It isn’t. It takes souls and demons. The only one that can do it is the Dark Prince himself. Lots of time and effort. But if they’re successful, they won’t have to possess humans and use their bodies. They’ll come through in droves, manifesting their true forms. At present they can only come in true form if they’re strong enough. With the portal wide open, it would be easy as walking through a door.” “Where are we going?” “The church. It’s sacred ground. They can’t get in there.” He could feel himself getting angry. With the fading of battle rage, he could think only of the danger she’d put herself in. She could’ve been killed. When they pulled up to the church, Paul opened one of the big doors so they could ride straight into the building. Maggie seemed better, Gideon thought as he helped her off the bike. More natural, busy looking around, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Whatever had plagued her after the pit to hell opened seemed to have passed. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Johnson.” She nodded at the greeting. “Do I call you Father?” “Paul’s fine.” He turned to Gideon. “What happened?” “They followed her to work. She killed them. Get ready. We’ve got to close that portal.” Gideon took her elbow and steered her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them. Everything had happened so fast that he’d purposely avoided thinking about it. Had he given it the slightest thought, he’d have locked her inside the church for her own safety. She was too confident. Too reckless. Facing off with Tobias was brave, yes, but also stupid. Now he had to make that clear to her. The thought of doing it scared him almost to the death he couldn’t seem to get hold of.

Placing himself in front of her, he looked solemnly into her eyes. Willed firmness into his voice. “Don’t ever do that again.” She looked about to laugh at him. “Do what? Run? Or shoot at the people chasing me?” “You got lucky. Normal bullets can’t bring them down. If you had used any gun but mine, they’d have killed you.” Growling, he backed her against the wall. “Do you understand that you have demons after you?” “Do you understand that I’m not made of candy glass? If someone comes for me, I fight back. I may not know how to use a sword, but I can use a gun. And of all the things I’ve had on my side, luck has never been one of them.” “You can’t run from these creatures. Wherever you go, they will find you. Do you understand that?” “What do you suggest? I hang around here with you, a demonmagnet if ever there was one? I don’t think so.” It was time. He had wanted to put it off long enough for her to get used to the idea of the two of them, but then she shot Tobias. Forced his hand. Left him no option. “Not hang around,” he said gruffly. “You’re going to marry me.” Her eyes went wide. When he bent to kiss her, hoping she’d expect it, she squeezed past him and took off running. He followed her into the main room, watched her leap over a wrecked table. But when her hand closed on the steel handle of the outside doors, she had gone far enough. In a microsecond he was behind her, slamming the door. Bending down, her scent in his nostrils, he whispered in her ear. “Why are you always running from me?” “Why are you always saying crazy shit?” She kept her back to him. Just as well, he thought. As furious and confused as he was at that moment, seeing her face would make things even worse. This woman created in him urges that he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was only one course for him now, and she had helped seal that path when she made love to him. “I speak only truth to

you,” he said. “Maybe the first time. But you have to admit it sounds crazy until you see things happen for real.” “Is it because I’m an angel? Is that why you fight marrying me?” “I’ve known you for one day, and look what’s happened! I don’t want to find out what a lifetime would bring. Oh, and I couldn’t care less what you are. You think a marriage certificate is going to keep me safe?” He shook his head, mildly amused in spite of the circumstances. “I don’t give a shit about your legal papers. I meant a marriage in the church.” “I hate to break the news to you. I’m an atheist.” Her words seemed to ring in his ears. He spun her around, disbelieving what she had just said. “You can’t be.” “It’s true.” Her voice was so calm it freaked him out. Her serious blue eyes told him what he refused to hear. Everything stood still. She wasn’t lying. She would fight by his side to survive. But as an atheist, she was forbidden fruit. Apparently God was punishing him all over again. Heat radiated from her, or it felt that way. He let her go and put distance between them. Found one last, ragged protest. “No.” She shrugged. “Then how do you explain everything you’ve seen?” he demanded, suddenly angry at the both of them. “I can’t, yet. But I will.” Rage possessed him. He saw everything through a film of blood. God was fucking with him. That was all he could think—that God was fucking with him again. Long ago, God had taken away the woman he’d loved more than his life. Now God was serving up a woman he couldn’t be with. “I’m going to use your shower,” Maggie said. “I still have blood in my hair from this morning when those things attacked me in my apartment.” He watched her return to his room. His chest hurt from the an-

ger that clawed harder with every breath he took. Hot tears pooled in his eyes. The crucifix on the wall taunted him. He wanted to scream with fury, but God wouldn’t listen. He hadn’t listened in three hundred years. The door to his room was open a crack. He slammed it against the wall and stalked inside. God wouldn’t listen, but she would. He’d make her listen. He saw her clothes on the bed and heard water running in the bathroom. The borrowed black t-shirt felt softer in his hands than it had before and smelled sweeter with her scent on it. The shower turned off and moments later, with a towel wrapped around her body, she strode quickly into the bedroom. Her eyes went wide when she spotted him. Impossibly, his anger jumped a few notches. There she stood, all clean and wet and naked under a pale blue towel. He moved forward. She didn’t back up. This woman did not fear him. And she should. Maybe that was the problem. He twisted his fingers in the towel and yanked it off her. Her body vibrated from the force, but she didn’t move. As she stood, bare as nature, in front of him, he finally got a good long look at her. A natural blond, not that it mattered. But the scars did. She had a collection of them on her hip and across her abdomen. The front of her alone showed fifteen round scars. Her large pale breasts caught his attention. He cupped one in his hand. Instead of slapping him, she moaned and pushed her breast harder against him. When his arm curled around her waist, she arched her back against him to give him better access. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. With her breasts at the perfect level, his mouth clamped onto a nipple while he swirled his tongue around the hard nub. She tasted like Irish Spring soap. Her fingers tunneled though his hair, anchoring him to her, not that he meant to let her go. She let out a hard groan when he

backed her against the wall. His tongue teased and tugged at her nipples until they were both hard and ridged. Maggie couldn’t help herself. Every touch, everything he did, sent sharp tingles though her body. Last time, the first time, he had been tender and slow. But this time he was anything but. She felt the moist response between her legs. The hand on her back slid down. His fingers dug into her ass until she moaned again. Even through his jeans she could feel how hard he was. He was straining against his pants, barely contained there and not at all where she wanted him to be. She fumbled with his jeans until they opened and let him spring free. She always did love a man that went commando. Her hand didn’t even fit around him. Gideon felt a moan low in his throat as she handled him, but his mouth was still busy on her breast. She was driving him nuts, sliding her hand over his cock again and again. If she kept it up, he would bust all over her. Not that way. Not like that. He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the wall behind her. With a roll of his hips, he forced his cock into her until she was squirming and gave a small scream. He had never been a rough man when it came to sex. Not until now. The woman made him feel things he didn’t think were possible. And she seemed to like whatever he did, which drove him on and on and on. Maggie felt her body tighten around him. Each powerful thrust pressed her between him and the wall. He stretched and filled her to the point she thought she could taste him. It was too hard. Not hard enough. The waves crashed over her again and again. Gideon nearly laughed with the crazed pleasure of it all. When he released her breasts, they bounced heavily with every shove. They fascinated him. He watched the one still wet from his mouth. He wanted to scream and growl at the same time. His balls tightened so hard, they hurt from wanting to explode. He stared at her passion-filled gaze until his vision went black and then a blinding white as he emptied himself into her. With a final deep thrust his body went lax against hers. He

hadn’t even noticed the sweat dripping down his brow until he rested his head against her breast. When he looked up at her and started to pull out, she shuttered again. Turned her face toward the wall. She hadn’t climaxed with him. The thought made him feel like a heel. When he released her hands, she let them fall to his shoulders. He pulled her down onto the bed. Her legs fell to either side, releasing him. Maggie thought he was done with her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to not care. Then his hand stroked her breast. Pinched her nipple. Trailed down to where she ached for release. His thumb pressed against her clit, making her squirm. Unsure of his mood or his intentions, she kept her eyes shut and let herself enjoy what he was doing. Gentle at first, she thought, unlike the rough mastering she had relished until it ended without her. And then his fingers skewered her. She guessed two, or maybe three, but his fingers were large. No way to be sure. A thumb made hard quick circles against her clit, while the other hand pumped into her again and again. What she felt, more than all the other sensations driving her wild, were the rough, ridged, scarred fingers. They created in her a mingling of pleasure and pain, of suffering and ecstasy. It was the scars that pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed so hard she arced off the bed, a scream caught soundless in her throat. Instead of slowing, he picked up the pace until the spring he had tightened in her broke free, sending her body into convulsions. The scream erupted. She rode the waves of the tumultuous orgasm as long as she could. But they burned her alive, plunged her into drowning waters as the explosions rocked her again. Colors swirled and danced in front of her eyes. And then there was nothing left of her. She collapsed against the bed. Later, she heard him moving around in the room. But she was too tired to look. He settled her more comfortably on the bed and

covered her with a blanket. She knew deep down he wasn’t going to join her. That didn’t make the pain any less when she heard the door closing behind him.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 6 Gideon wore only his jeans on when he left the room. He couldn’t bear to stay long enough to fully get dressed. He’d been a madman. Furious beyond control. And he’d taken it out on her. Used her. His behavior disgusted him. Anger at himself rose like a tidal wave. He followed through with a hard punch against the stone wall, hoping pain in his fist would lessen the pain in his heart. “Hey!” Paul stumbled down the stairs from his room. “Sorry,” Gideon said in a weak voice. “Whatever you’re pissed about, don’t take it out on the church.” Paul rubbed a hand over the cracked stone as if soothing a wound. “She’s an atheist.” “So?” “So I can’t marry an atheist.” Paul frowned. “So you do plan on marrying her.” “I fornicated with her.” The old man broke out laughing. “Let me get this right. You slept with her, so now you want to do the honorable thing? Man, are you in the wrong era. It’s not the sixteenth century any more, Eon. And she’s not a virgin princess.” Gideon regarded him in confusion. “People don’t get married just because they had sex. They don’t even get married when they have kids. They don’t see it as wrong.” “God does.” Paul laughed again. “Do you really think God is going to send all those souls to hell because they got misguided information? Besides, that has nothing to do with you. When you die, it’s over. God won’t let you back in, and hell definitely won’t take you. Not after what you’ve done to their favorites. As for the girl, well, she thinks she’s going to be worm food, right? So maybe she isn’t going anywhere either.” Gideon was walking a balance beam of hope and confusion. “You get a little demented when you’re sloshed. Just what are you

suggesting?” “Even if the girl lives to a ripe old age, her life—where you are concerned, anyway—will be over in a blink of an eye. I say, enjoy her. Any way you can.” Paul took another swallow from the bottle. Gideon felt like punching the wall again. Even drunk, Paul made sense, which was why he was his friend. At the same time, what Paul said went against what Gideon had always been. Well, nearly always. He knew the rules, and since the day he was made, he’d only broken two of them. One was leaving heaven for a mortal. And if he convinced Maggie to marry him, he figured that would have absolved broken rule number two. He wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend outside of marriage. At least, he didn’t think he was. Nor was he trying to recapture what he had lost. Maggie was nothing like the woman he first loved. With his wife, sex had always been slow and attentive. Each time was about showing how much he loved her. But with Maggie, he had been rough and physical. She liked it. He liked it. He wondered what that said about him. “Tell me this, Eon.” Paul’s voice was gentle. “How did Sarah die?” Swallowing hard, Gideon drew his wife’s image from the back of his mind. But for some reason, the pieces wouldn’t fit together. It made her memory even more painful. “Childbirth. She didn’t survive it. Neither did the baby girl.” Paul stared into his bottle. “I didn’t know.” “I had her for less then a year. Then God took her from me.” “You know that isn’t the way of it.” “I did what I had to do to be with her. I don’t regret it. I’d do it again. But enough is enough. I’ve taken my punishment. I want it to end.” “You look at it as only a year. At least you had a year. And it wasn’t your only option, Eon. It was just that you could see nothing else. You were in heaven already. From what little I gathered, she was a good soul. She would surely have joined you there when

she died. All you had to do was wait. But you couldn’t. The human in you made that decision.” “I have no humanity in me.” “Bullshit. But what’s done is done. We have to deal with what’s coming down the pike. Maggie has no choice but to stay with us now. Tobias knows about her. She killed him, which means the Dark Prince knows about her, too. He’ll send his minions for her. He’ll make her suffer. And she isn’t the type to sit by, meaning that she will fight to the end. Would you send her to her death?” Gideon walked a few paces away, his back to his closest friend. To say it aloud would mean admitting it to himself, and this shouldn’t be about him and what he wanted. But to his shame, part of it was. “I’ve known her a day, Paul. I don’t want to lose her, too.” “Then don’t think, Eon. Just feel. Your heart’s in the right place. It always is. Trust what it tells you. God will lead you from there.” “God will lead me?” “He led you to the alley where you got shot. He put Maggie in the ambulance to save you. He sent you back to her apartment to get her. She’s in your bed right now. How much more leading do you need?” Gideon wanted to be in that bed with her, consequences be damned. A slow smile widened his lips. Paul, lofting the bottle, grinned back at him. Gideon was almost at the bedroom door when he noticed a white plastic bag and some small boxes on a table. He cast a questioning look over his shoulder. “Chinese food,” Paul said. “Small bottle of rum. Cigarettes for Maggie. You know, the basics for when you’re having a wild time in the bedroom.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” Paul started up the stairs to his room. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t always a priest. Enjoy. Tomorrow, it’s back to work.” *** Maggie was awakened by the smell of food. When she sat up,

she noticed the thin paper cartons of rice and other Chinese goodies laid out on the foot of the bed. With it were a few cans of soda and a pack of Marlboros. They weren’t her normal brand, but they would do. Gideon was leaning against the far wall with arms crossed over his bare chest. “Thought you might be hungry.” “Thanks.” She eyes him carefully. She wasn’t afraid of him, but the last time she saw him, he had been angry. Now he was calm, collected, and pretty much irresistible. “Actually, it was Paul.” Honesty was good. But the food was calling her name. She hadn’t eaten anything since before her shift last night. He handed her a fork and sat next to her, watching as she dug into a carton. “Sorry I was so rough with you,” he said. She swallowed a mouthful of rice and glanced up at him. “Are you sorry you were mad at me, or sorry you were rough?” “Both,” he admitted, picking up his own little carton of food. “The rough part, don’t be. The mad part I’m not sure I understand. I didn’t do anything.” He chewed his food and washed it down with a swig of soda. “I want to marry you.” “Won’t happen.” She shoveled in another forkful of rice, wanting to laugh. Most women she knew would love to have a man like Gideon propose to them. But here she was, turning him down. She could almost see their heads spinning. “Yet.” He jabbed at the noodles. “I’m still determined, but I’ll wait.” “You’ll be waiting for a while. Tell me why you left heaven.” Signing, he put his fork and carton aside. “I met a woman on one of my assignments. Sarah. I loved her from the moment I saw her. God has strict rules about mortals and angels mixing romantically. Basically, you can’t. It came down to a choice. At least I thought it did. So I chose her. She died eleven months later. I can’t go back, so I continue my job as a guardian down here.” “He hasn’t forgiven you yet?”

“He never will. He won’t allow me in heaven if I die, and hell won’t have me. So it’s an endless cycle of not being able to die.” “Well, at least we’ll be in good company.” She looked up from her carton and noticed a grain of rice in his goatee. Grinning, she reached to pluck it out. He gave her a funny look until he realized what she was doing. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome. How’d you fix my shoulder?” “I didn’t fix it completely. The bruising is still there.” “But the pain is gone. So are the swelling and the infection from the scratches.” “I can still do minor healing.” She frowned, considering the possibilities. “Why not use it on yourself, then?” “I can’t. It doesn’t work on me. It also won’t work on deadly injuries. If you die, I can’t bring you back.” When they were finished eating, she helped him bag the empty cartons and watched him carry them out for disposal. By the time he returned, she had cleared everything away except a lit cigarette and an empty soda can for an ashtray. “How long have you been here?” she asked. “Here as in on earth, or in this town, or what?” He sat at the head of the bed beside her and stretched out his legs. She exhaled a thin cloud of smoke. “This building.” “About three years. Paul knew about it from his work with the church. As to the city, well, we move when we need to. Usually set up some form of post. Unless they burn us out, this is where we’re going to stay.” She could feel him watching her. “So tell me about the men.” “Demons,” he corrected. “Whatever. Tell me about them.” “Humans don’t see them. At best, you can only see the people they possess. But Paul sees them for what they are, sees their true forms. Demons possess humans and feed on their souls. That’s why he drinks. He sees the souls that are still in the possessed bod-

ies and the torment the humans go through as they’re being devoured. A human mind can’t handle that. Much like seeing the true face of God, seeing the true face of Evil screws up your delicate little psyches. I don’t know if the drinking is really helping him, though.” “Why?” “Because he’s losing. He’s getting to where he has to drink just to function. He puts a local liquor store out of business to sleep at night and keep the nightmares away.” “Wait. What’s-his-name and the other, I saw them. So did Gladys, come to think of it. I’m not losing my marbles. Then again, here I am, sitting in a church talking to an angel about fighting demons.” “You saw only the bodies they had possessed. Not the souls inside, which is what Paul can see.” “You mean I killed an innocent person!” “No. Tobias is one of the oldest demons, and the strongest. He consumes a soul in a day. Even after the soul is gone, he can still use the body. What you killed was an empty shell. And if the soul was still there, you’d have only sent it where it belongs.” With that information to ponder, she dropped the cigarette butt in the can and placed it next to the bed. He moved as well, lifting the covers and sliding between them, jeans and all, clearly waiting for her to join him there. She did, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers, like her own personal space heater. She lay on her side facing the wall and curled her arm under the pillow. Instead of pressing his chest to her, he let his fingers trail down her back, stopping at one of her scars. When she rolled over to look at him, his hand went straight to her lower stomach. “How did you get these?” he asked softly. She looked down at the scar he was touching. “Afghanistan. I was a flight medic on a Blackhawk. We went in to extract a team with wounded. We got the team on the bird, and I was working on a gunshot to the leg when we started taking fire. It was an ambush.

The bullets ripped right through the bird. I was hit.” She swallowed. Pushed on. “The bird went down. I don’t remember much after that. Bits and pieces. Being dragged out by locals, tossed in a cell. I was lucky. They thought I’d died on the way there, so they didn’t mess with me. You know how the army always says they won’t leave a man behind? Apparently, that didn’t apply to me. My commander got an account for everyone but me, determined I was dead, and didn’t even bother with a search. Days later, they heard a rumor about a captured American soldier. It took two more days to get me. But by then, the bullets holes had gotten infected. Actually, it was Trevon who found me hidden under a dirty blanket, unconscious. He said he’d almost walked by, but looked down and saw fingertips poking out from under the blanket. He stayed at my side until they got me into surgery.” “And you don’t think God was with you?” “If there were a God, He’d have let me die, or He’d have had them find me sooner.” “So you blame Him?” “No. What happened to me, happened. I believe in moving on. It could’ve been worse, and there’s nothing can be done to fix or change it now. Self-pity, or wishing things had been different, never worked for me.” “Is that when you stopped believing?” After some thought, she shook her head. “No. I think I stopped believing a long time before then. Essentially, I stopped giving any thought to the subject. But in the burning bird, I realized that I no longer believed. When I thought I was going to die, in that second I was relieved by it.” She took a deep breath. “What about you? What about the burn marks?” She felt him shrug against her. “Everything is balanced,” he said. “Good and evil. Heaven and hell. Man and woman. The demons have a weakness when it comes to blessed items like holy water. I have the same weakness, but mine is for cursed items. Demon blood is one of the worst. It’s like acid. The burns came from Shaitan. He was Lucifer’s second-in-

command. I was newly exiled here on earth and didn’t fully understand what it meant to be fallen. Before, I’d fight demons and go back to heaven to heal up without a mark. What I got from Shaitan was a pain I wasn’t used to, to say the least.” “How’d you kill him? You said that when they die, demons return to hell, fix themselves, and come back.” “Gnosis, my sword, has the ability to truly kill them. God gave it to me so long ago I can’t remember. It’s the only weapon I have left from heaven, and it alone can prevent them from coming back.” She thought about the ridges on his chest and how he had gotten them. And then she started laughing. She tried to muffle it with a pillow, but it was just too funny. “What?” Gideon sounded a little offended. “Too bad I can’t thank him. By putting the scars on your hand, Shaitan made you ribbed for pleasure.” She laughed out loud. A confused look passed over his face. He lifted his scarred hand and examined it. She tried to stop laughing, but then he started up as well. Neither could seem to stop. Finally, the laughter calmed enough for him to gather her in his arms. She settled contentedly against his chest. It had been forever since she had laughed like that. She felt lighter, as if a weight lifted from her.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 7 Maggie woke next to a lightly snoring Gideon. Even in his sleep he held her, as if reluctant to let her go. A quick glance at her watch told her she’d slept almost ten hours. Apparently she’d needed it. She lay there for a time, just watching him. It was a weird—but nice—feeling to wake up beside him. So much had happened in such a short time. But this seemed to be her life now, at least for a while. And if that was the case, there were a few things she needed. With care she lifted his arm, slid out of bed, and dressed in silence. She was just leaving the room when she saw Paul stumbling down the stairs from his loft, clutching the railing with one hand and his head with the other. He squinted at her from bloodshot eyes. “Paul, do—” “Shhh. For the love of God, lower your voice.” She watched him for a second, remembering what Gideon had told her about the drinking, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you have a car I can borrow?” He grimaced. “You’re not thinking of going out alone, are you?” “Well, if I’m going to stay, you both have to accept that I’m a big girl. Do you or don’t you have a car?” “Here.” he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. She had a feeling he would have given her the crown jewels, so long as she stopped talking. “White van in front. Don’t stay out too long.” *** Maggie’s first stop was the bank. She’d worked for years with almost no expenses. In that time she’d saved a decent amount of money and bought some stock. While she wasn’t filthy rich, she didn’t have to worry about money for a while. Next came a hardware store and a sporting goods store. At a discount department store, she bought what she thought she’d be needing for her new home, along with a few things for Gideon and

Paul. The errands took several hours, and it was approaching noon when she’d finished the last of them. The old cargo van was full of bags and boxes, which made her feel good. She believed that when people lived together, every one of them should pull their weight. She wasn’t at all sure what contribution she’d be able to make, but providing things they needed was a good start. It made her feel useful. With the key in the ignition, she closed her eyes and let herself imagine how her new life might go. “Hello, Maggie,” said a purely sensual male voice from the passenger seat. She jumped so hard away from him that her back thumped against the car door. His wavy, raven-black hair was slicked back, leaving one little curl over his forehead. His eyes, devoid of light, were blackest black. He lightly chuckled, revealing a pair of deep dimples. The man was undeniably handsome—sinfully so—and his white t-shirt and black jeans heightened the impression. She rallied her wits. “Who are you?” He laughed again. “I have a few names. But you can call me Luc.” “Luc?” “Think very hard. I’m sure you can figure what it’s short for.” She fumbled at the door beside her, searching for the handle. Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I don’t think so. We’re going to have a little chat.” Her hands were forced from behind her. The man never moved, but she could tell he was the one doing it. Before she knew it, her hands were in her lap. No matter how she tried to fight, she simply couldn’t move them. “You are strong and brave,” he said, “to the point of stupidity. Much like your lover.” She repressed the fear rising in her throat and focused her attention on the strange man and the conversation he seemed deter-

mined to have. “What do you want?” “For him to know exactly how I will use him to win my war. Oh, and tell him that when he dies, I will welcome him into my domain with open arms.” “He’ll never help you!” “This from the woman who doesn’t believe? He and I are alike, you know. Look deep enough in him, and you’ll see me.” Maggie wanted to argue the point, but her grandma’s words about picking her fights seemed to apply here. She clamped her mouth shut, gathered her wits, and formed a logical question. “Why me? Why not tell him yourself?” “Because he’d try to kill me, just as I want to kill him. For a quite different reason, though. And I don’t want a fight. Trust me, a fight between two fallen can never go well, as your lover knows. But there will certainly be a war. He may hate me and what I do, but I want him on my side.” “There is no may. He does hate you.” “As it should be. And I’m going to make him hate me even more.” As his words registered, he reached for her. Her hands still wouldn’t move, and the steering wheel and seat prevented her from slipping out of reach. The first thought, when his hand clamped around her neck, was why everyone always grabbed at her throat. Then she realized there was no pressure, no force in his fingers. He simply held her head still. That’s when the real fear hit her like a hammer. “Get off me!” “Ssshhh. There’s nothing for you to worry about, Maggie. You’ll live through this. You’ll go back to your lover and fight by his side. You’ll do it because it’s the kind of person you are. But you are going to help me. He will look at you and know that I touched you. You’ll carry my mark for the rest of your life. That will pain him, and cause me great pleasure.” He looked down her, amusement on his face, as if she were a specimen he found mildly interesting. This man was scaring her more than Satan’s leprechaun ever did. To him, it all seemed to be

a game. “You know,” he said, “there is something beautiful about fear, especially in an attractive woman. The way the blood pumps hard through her veins. The feel of it when you apply just the right amount of pressure. The way her breasts move with every breath she takes. Her eyes widen, and the pupils enlarge so that only a thin ring of color remains around the black pit into the soul. Even the smell she gives off is intoxicating.” His head dipped, as if he was smelling her. Then he looked directly into her eyes. She looked back, finding no color there. His eyes were black as sin. The darkness seemed to reach out and claim her. She felt dizzy. Lightheaded. Then it passed, and she blinked several times to get the world back in focus. Luc was sitting crooked in the passenger seat, smiling. “No, you didn’t dream it. In return for the mark I gave, I took something from you.” His smile widened, showing white perfect teeth. “Actually, two things. No need to thank me.” His grin never wavered as he faded away. She gasped for air, fighting off the panic that assailed her. Dug into her pocket for cigarettes and lit one with shaky hands. What just happened? When she tried to think about it, her head hurt and hurt. With a mental push, she shut her mind down. It wasn’t hard— she’d had years of practice. She went blank. While she continued to think and act, nothing really bothered her, nothing could get that deep. It was a useful ability sometimes, a side effect of what had occurred in Afghanistan. *** “Where have you been?” Paul glared at her from the staircase. “Eon’s going out of his mind!” She looked up at his raggedy form as she shut the door behind her. “Where is he?” “Looking for you.” “There are some things in the van. Can you bring them inside?

I have to….” She tried to think of the right word, but her brain was numb. “I told you not to stay out too long. We have a job to do. But instead of doing it, he’s out looking for you.” “Listen, Paul. I’ve had what has to be one of the weirdest days of my life. I had a chat with a man named Luc, who freaked the shit out of me. And I just chain-smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes on the way back from the store. I need a minute. Okay?” He nodded, looking confused as she passed him. Retrieving a towel from the bedroom chair, she filled the bathroom sink with cold water and dunked her face into it. The cold didn’t affect her confused mind, but it did help steady her nerves and calm the fears that were starting to resurface. She stayed face down in the water under until her lungs burned. Finally she came back up, gasping and splashing water onto the floor. A towel was dangling in front of her. She saw Gideon standing in the doorway, arm extended. Accepting the towel, she blotted her face dry and made herself look at the angry expression on his face. It faded almost immediately. She shifted from foot to foot, expecting him to yell at her. Silence. After a time, she decided the yelling would be better. “You going to say something?” “Paul told me. Let me see.” He gently took her face in his hands and turned it up to his. “He marked you. Do you understand what that means?” The kindness in his eyes confused her. The harsh lines in his face had softened, but even so, he looked strained. Also pissed, concerned, scared, and worried. “I thought you might be upset,” she said. His thumbs rubbed over her cheeks in a comforting motion. More than anything, he looked sad. “You had a meeting with Lucifer. That upsets me. He touched you. That upsets me. Do I think there was something you could have done to prevent it, other than not going out on your own? No. He’s the ruler of hell for a reason. That alone has to tell you something. I’m sorry for what hap-

pened.” Warmth stole back into her body. “You’re not mad at me?” He gave her a heartbreaking smile. “That would be like being angry at a rape victim for being raped.” His eyes softened even more as he looked at her. She hadn’t even looked for the mark. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. But now that he had seen it, she had to see it, too. Turning to the small mirror, she examined her face. Everything looked normal. Well, he skin was reddish from the cold water, but that was it. She glanced at Gideon, standing behind her with his arms folded, patiently waiting. She went back to studying her face and the eyes that stared back at her. And found it. Her right eye was sky blue, as always. But her left eye was now a pale green. “Why?” she murmured. “That’s what I want to know. He could have done so many things to you. Why change an eye’s color?” She braced herself on the sink. “It could’ve been much worse,” he offered weakly. “He gave me a message for you. He said that when you die, he will welcome you into his domain with open arms. Then he will use you to win his war.” The surprise showed. “That’s new.” “I have to go.” “Where?” “Anywhere but here.” *** Gideon watched her rummage though the large plastic bags spread out in the main room. “She went on a shopping spree,” Paul said, arriving with another armful of bags. “Why did you get all this stuff?” Maggie waved at the clutter. “When I bought this, I thought I might stay.” Gideon heard the hint of sadness in her voice. “I had even liked the idea of staying. I’ll leave most of these things with you. Somebody might as well use them.” “Stay,” Gideon said.

“Don’t you get it? He’s going to use me to get to you!” “How do you know that?” “He told me! I’ll not be used to destroy you.” She didn’t even turn to face him. She just kept pulling things out of the bags and putting them on the floor. He shook his head, not that she would see that. “You won’t.” Finally she stood to face him, her eyes clear and focused. He couldn’t help looking first at the green eye, which filled him with anger. And admiration. On her, it looked good. A little strange, but interesting. Her long blond hair, confined in a ponytail, trailed down her back. She didn’t try to hide the mismatched eyes. “Luc is Lucifer,” she said. “Correct?” “Yes.” “So. Satan marked me and wants to use me so that you’ll serve him in his war.” He thought he stopped breathing. Lucifer coming after him, wanting him to serve the Dark Lord was new, but it made sense. Even fallen, he remained a creature to fear. He still had great power and strength. If he agreed to serve in hell, Lucifer would be allied with another being like himself. What troubled him was Satan’s interest in Maggie. As deeply as she had plunged into their world, Gideon had thought she still had some chance of maybe, just maybe, pulling herself free of it. Now Satan had made sure that she never could. At all times, he would know precisely where she was. And there was the other problem as well. “What do you mean he took something from you?” “That’s what he said when he changed my eye. He took two things from me, no need to thank him. What exactly he took I haven’t been able to figure out, which bugs the shit out of me.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. It could’ve been anything, and they would have no way of knowing until the time came. She went back to the bags. “Maggie,” he said. “Maggie. Come here.” When she ignored him, he went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She tried to

brush him off, but he pulled her up anyway and turned her to face him. “I could say so many things right now. I could say it doesn’t matter what he took or that he marked you, but it would be a lie. It does matter. I could say that it doesn’t matter where you go. Lucifer knows about you. Tobias is gunning for you. They will find you. So that matters. I could say you’re right. If he says he’s going to use you and me, then he’s going to.” He took a deep breath. “What I will tell you is that us working together to stop him is better than me on my own. If—” “No. It’s better if I leave.” “They’ll know where you are whether you’re here or there. If you stay with Paul and me, the odds will be a little more in your favor.” Her eyes searched his face. “What do you want?” “What do I want?” “There are so many factors. What’s best for you, for me, even for this battle you’ve been fighting. The one thing you’ve never mentioned was what you wanted.” He frowned. What he wanted had never been an issue, not since he’d left heaven. It was always what was required, what he had to do. “I know what I want,” Maggie said. “Even with all this shit going on. You’re strange, Gideon. Crazy, cute, and did I mention strange?” She gave him a little smile. “Even with all that, I know what I want, and I can say fuck the rest. I’ll deal with it. So. What do you want?” “Stay.” Her blinding smile stunned him. “Good. Now, let me see the stitches. Then show me this portal.” In a matter of minutes she had his shirt off and was sliding her fingers over his chest and around his neck. The simple contact sent a shiver up his spine. For a second he thought she might kiss him, but then her attention went to the thread in his neck. She set to work, grumbling about how impossible it was for someone to heal so fast. Every bullet hole was nothing more than a thin pale line.

He knew that even those traces would be gone by the next day.

Maggie’s Angel: Chapter 8 Gideon couldn’t help but smile as Maggie wrangled Paul into a chair and cut his hair. When he insisted there was nothing wrong with the way he looked, she asked him if he worked undercover as a beggar. After the haircut, she took her scissors and a disposable razor to years of grungy beard. Paul’s hands were too shaky to do it himself. Finally, the shower. When he came out dripping wet and looking ready to commit murder, she rewarded him with a large bottle of whiskey. Gideon almost didn’t recognize his friend. He was clean-cut, cleaned up, sober, and neatly clad in the new clothes she’d bought for him. When Paul disappeared into his room with the bottle, Gideon smiled at Maggie, who was wiping her hands on a towel. He looked around at the room she had asked him to pick up. “It looks good in here.” While she’d been busy with Paul, Gideon had moved all the broken furniture and tossed it on the curb. The floor had been swept and the remaining furniture was now arranged in a semblance of order. When she walked in, he had just finished hanging a punching bag from one of the rafters. There was good reason for the church’s derelict appearance, but he was pleased at the results of his work. And Maggie’s. Paul looked like a different man. “You did a hell of a job on the old guy,” Gideon told her. “After privates and gunshot victims, he was a piece of cake.” Grinning, she picked up one of the bags. “Apparently he just needed someone to mother him.” “More like be his drill sergeant.” He smiled at her again. “You just might be a good influence on him.” “I doubt it. I drink, smoke and cuss. Sometimes I’m more man than most men I know.”

“You’re also the only one Paul lets bully him.” “It’s a gift.” She placed the bag on the table and started to empty it. “There are a few other things I want to get, if that’s okay?” “Whatever you want. I have only one question.” He pulled a long piece of black cotton rope from one of the bags. “What’s this for?” The corners of her luscious mouth curved into a sinful smile. “You sure you want to know?” His brows popped up at her answer. “Don’t tell me that it’s for what I think it’s for?” She sauntered around the table, trailing her fingers along the top. “Okay, I won’t. I’ll show you.” His head cocked to one side as she took the rope from his hand, looped the soft, thick cord around his wrist and anchored it to the other wrist. With his hands bound in front of him, she secured the knots. “Ok, so you got me tied up. What are you planning to do with me now?” “That’s the fun part. Anything I want.” Her hands slid down his chest and jerked his t-shirt free of his jeans. He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her. “You’ve been planning this for a while.” “Not really. Just… hopeful.” “I don’t think bondage is something an angel is supposed to be involved with….” His voice faded off as she undid the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. His soft dick fell into her waiting hand. Her other hand was busy pushing the jeans over his hips and down to his knees. It didn’t seem to faze her that he wasn’t completely hard. Not yet, anyway. Her fingers closed around him. Between the rope binding his hands and her grip on his cock, his blood rushed to the lower half of his body. His dick started growing and twitching. “Ex-angel, right?” “Fallen. Definitely fallen. Still an angel.” A low moan escaped his lips when she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Big difference.” Her lips left a wet kiss where he most wanted it. “Relax. I’ll show you something new.” The tip of her tongue ran along the underside of his cock, creating a shiver through his entire body. But on her knees to him? “Maggie, you don’t have to do this.” “But I want to.” “I never—oh, God,” he whispered harshly as her tongue ran along the small slit. She took his entire semi-hard cock in her mouth, and her lips felt to him as if they were smiling when she began tugging on him, sliding up and down, pulling at him, making him harder. She did it again, this time letting her teeth lightly graze the delicate skin she sucked on. His cock, rock hard, robbed him of thought and breath. His tied hands rested on her head as she bobbed up and down. With every movement and flick of her tongue, his fingers tangled in her hair even more. The muscles in his stomach tightened. Her fingers slid over his hips, and her nails dug into his ass. She wasn’t digging hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave nail indentations in his skin. He gave a broken gasp at the light, sharp pain. This was one of the most interesting, conflicting floods of emotions he had ever felt. If she kept it up, he wouldn’t last long. Maggie, lost in a world of her own, swirled around the tip of his cock and then went seriously down on him, drawing him deeper into her mouth. She loved the way he tasted, richly salty, musky, flavored with something light and male. When he was fully hard, she could barely take half of his length. His size was one of the reasons the sex was so good. Even though he was in her mouth instead of in her pussy, it wasn’t hard to imagine it being there. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second and pushed the feeling away the best she could, not that it helped much. This time was for him. He was moaning above her, but the tight fist in her hair told her just how much he was enjoying it. No matter how he tried to hold still, Gideon couldn’t keep from shaking. His body felt hard as rock and fragile as blown glass. His

hips began to move on their own, rocking harder and deeper in her mouth. He was afraid of hurting her, but she seemed to thrive on the reaction she dragged out of him. His voice was rough and throaty, erupting in a hard moan. “God, Maggie!” Her hands slid back around to his cock, one seizing the shaft while the other fondled his balls. He missed her nails sharp on his skin but reveled in the new feeling she created. It felt like he was flying for the first time in three hundred years. She took him higher and deeper as she applied even more suction. Her lips glided over him again and again, sometimes with just a hint of teeth, other times with none. His entire body tightened, on the verge of shattering. “Maggie, I’m coming.” He tried to hold off, giving her time to pull away. Instead, she continued in the steady, relentless pattern that was killing him. Maggie felt his climax about to break. When the first spurt of hot, salty, thick cum filled the back of her throat, she swallowed around him. He was pulling on her hair, trying to direct her off him. She had never swallowed in her life, but she didn’t want to stop. He cried out above her. Shuddered. A strangled noise came from deep in his throat as he exploded down her throat. Behind Gideon’s closed eyes, the orgasm burst in his mind and racked his body. She continued to work him until he began started to go soft. She waited until he released her hair before standing up with a silly grin on her face. “I think Lucifer corrupted more then your eye,” he whispered, looping his tied arms around her. Her arms slid around his waist. “Sure, we can go with that.” *** Maggie was about to untie him when he kissed her. “Are you two done?” Paul yelled down the stairs. “You have a room, you know.” Laughing, she pulled on the rope to free Gideon’s hands. He moved behind her as she walked to the other side of the

table. By the time she got there, he had his pants back on and was shoving his shirt into the jeans. “It’s safe now, Paul.” The priest came back with a lit cigarette, frowning at the both of them. “Jesus, Eon, you have a room, which I’m going to assume that you’re going to share with her. Can you at least use it next time instead of the church?” Eon was grinning like a schoolboy who knew he’d done wrong but didn’t care. She blinked hard and looked over at Paul. “Isn’t that room still in the church?” “You’re not helping yourself young lady,” he snapped at her. “Don’t talk like that in the church.” She blinked hard at Paul. “I’m pretty sure what Luc did is going to send me to hell anyway.” She lightly motioned to her green eye. “Maggie.” Gideon called to her softly. “It’s ok. He’s in a bad mood. He’s sober and clean, never a good thing with him.” Paul flicked the ashes from the cigarette into his empty hand. “Don’t even start with me. I don’t like you two treating the church this way.” “You were ok with it last night.” “I was drunk last night. I’m sober now. It’s my job to save souls, and that includes Maggie’s, whether she likes it or not, even more so now that she’s been damned by Satan himself.” Maggie took a step back. They were both watching her, but Paul glanced back and forth between her and Gideon. “She’s not damned, Paul, just marked.” Gideon offered softly. “Paul, my soul is off limits,” she told him firmly. “I’m not damned because I’m not going anywhere when I die. I like the thought of not having an afterlife. I can’t stand the thought of all this being a test to see where my soul belongs.” “But it is,” he argued. “I don’t care. I live my life in the moment. I don’t think about what might happen later. I take the cards I’m dealt and I play my hand the best I can. If your God doesn’t like that I’m sorry, but it’s who I am.”

“I don’t like it.” “I don’t like a lot of things. But Gideon wants me to stay. I want to stay. It would be nice if you would want me to stay, too. We have a portal to close, right?” “Yes,” Gideon said very quickly, catching her hint to move on to something they could all agree with. Paul agreed much more slowly. “Yeah.” “So,” Gideon said, taking his arm. “Let’s stick to things we agree on.” When the men started down the stairs, Maggie picked up one of the bags and headed for the bedroom. “You coming?” Gideon turned so that one knee was propped up on the stair above him. His tight black jeans and t-shirt had a few spots of dirt and dust. Yummy came to mind. The red from his hair and goatee was a sharp contrast to his pale skin and clothing. Standing there in just that way, he was nothing short of amazing. For a few seconds, she glimpsed the powerful being he truly was. “I’ll be down in a second,” she said. “I need to change clothes.” He gave her a small smile before turning away. “Don’t take too long.” It took almost no time to strip and pull on a fresh pair of jeans and tank top. The first thing she noticed as she went downstairs were the open metal cabinets surrounding Gideon and Paul, now leaning over the map on the table in the center of the room. The other table, the one farther back, was loaded with several plastic jugs of water and assorted guns with loaded magazines. “Maggie?” Gideon beckoned to her. She moved to the open space between Gideon and Paul. “Yeah.” “Well, the thing is, I’m not sure that you ought—“ He stuttered, stopped, and looked to Paul. “Eon’s trying to say there’s still time to back out. You don’t have to fight. And even if you do, he’s not sure what use you can be.” Gideon looked confused and sad. “I don’t know either,” she said. “But I’m not the sort to sit home and wait. If nothing else, I can act as medic. The holy water is

great and all, but it’s dangerous unless he’s stitched. And if you’re worried I’m going to get in the way, don’t. I’ve had training.” Gideon nodded slowly. “Then let’s go.” She went back to the table and picked up one of the guns. Of all the choices, she much preferred the forty-five. With the magazine in, she released the slide home. All she had to do was switch the safety off and it was ready to go. She connected two of the holsters and loaded handguns onto her belt at her back. Several full magazines went in her back pockets. Gideon was going through the same motions. “They’re all blessed by Paul. Don’t shoot at anything till I tell you. You can see any demon that’s in its true form, and you won’t be able to tell the difference between a normal person and one who is possessed.” “Why is it a blessed gun will work for a non-believer? I shouldn’t think it would.” “A car is dangerous even if you don’t have a license.” “True.” *** Maggie, her hair scraped back into a ponytail, was seated in the passenger seat beside Paul with her gaze focused on the street. Gideon, crouched behind her in the van, reluctantly moved farther back. The temptation to loosen her hair and let the silky strands run through his fingers had become a distraction. He had a job to do, and if they were to survive, all his attention would be required. When the thought finished forming in his mind, he couldn’t help squinting at the little bit of her he could still see. Everything had changed for him. After Sarah died, he hadn’t wanted to continue. Now, while he had no sort of future planned out, the hope of one was there. A future that included Maggie. He’d burn in hell before helping Lucifer, but it wasn’t the prospect of eternal pain that stopped him. It was Maggie. His rage at what Satan had done to her. The way she took it and moved on. The way she fought for him. Above all, the way she lived her life and never felt sorry for herself.

He wondered just when she had gotten under his skin. In the beginning there had been a connection, but at the time, he was with her only to save her. But then something changed. And suddenly, he knew when it happened. She had taken his gun and shot Tobias with it. He smiled. That was when he fell in love with her. The van stopped. He gathered his equipment and heard the doors open behind him. Turning, he saw Maggie smiling. But there was something firm and dangerous in her eyes. She was ready for a fight. He jumped out of the van beside her, was about to speak when a cannon seemed to explode in his ears. She stared up at him, her eyes expressionless. Her legs crumpled under her. He managed to catch her as she fell, limp in the one arm that had seized her. Black blood oozed from her abdomen. “No.” His voice was a dead whisper. “We’re even!” Tobias shouted, laughing. Gideon spared him a glance. Tobias, his face gleeful, held a gun in one hand and waved his black sword with the other. Maggie’s soft voice broke through the haze of fury. Gideon wrenched his gaze to her pale, agonized face. “Close it,” she said distinctly. “Close the portal.” As gently as he could, he laid her down on the street. Then he slammed his hand into the ground, cracking the asphalt. Light flooded his hand. He seized the sword. With a battle cry unlike he had ever made, he charged the demon. Tobias dropped the gun and raised his sword to counter the swing. He spun around, barely eluding the next strike, and as he did, he slid into his true form. The goat legs and naked chiseled man-like chest glowing an evil red, the black claws gripping the sword and horns curling back on his head revealed him for what he was. A demon from hell. The swords slammed into each other, raining dark and light sparks over them both. Gideon was enraged. Tobias was laughing.

Another deafening shot rang out. The demon stumbled back, a small hole in his forehead. Gideon, seizing the advantage and using all his strength, swung the sword across Tobias’ thick throat. The red, goatish face went blank. The demon’s head fell to the ground. Gideon didn’t watch hell swallow its fallen member. He caught a glance at Paul performing the measured steps of the ritual to close the portal. But he was already running back to Maggie. She had slumped over, the gun still in her hand. He knelt beside her, gathering her in his arms. Her blood was everywhere. She had no pulse. She wasn’t breathing. “No, dear God, no!” He touched her smooth cheek, leaving bloody stripes. “Please. You can’t die.” “I’m not dead,” she whispered. Startled, he almost dropped her. She slowly opened her eyes.

Maggie’s Angel: Epilogue “Ow, that fucking hurts,” Maggie screeched as Gideon used sterile pliers to pull the bullet from her liver. She had no illusions. She should be dead. A bullet to the liver, and a person should be dead in about twenty minutes. She had been alive for over an hour. “Pain lets you know that you’re alive,” Paul said, holding her down on the table. With a flash of movement her hand lashed out, smacking the old priest upside the head. “Congratulations, asshole. You’re alive, too.” “Will you stay still?” Gideon was frowning at the wound. “Stubborn little… Ah! Got it. Just need to sew you up now. We probably should get you some drugs, though.” He dropped the bullet in a glass. “I don’t think vodka is a good pain killer.” She took the bottle from Paul and chugged a good half of the vodka. Normally she would agree with Gideon, but until she could get to the hospital for supplies, this was the best they had. The alcohol burned on the way down, but soon, a pleasant numbness spread through her body. With slow, careful stitches, he closed her up. “How did you manage to shoot him?” “I pulled the trigger.” She giggled, feeling the vodka start to kick in big time, making her whimsical in the brainpan. “I meant, how did you see him? He changed forms in the beginning of the fight.” “Ah, that. The mark Luc gave me. The eye.” She motioned weakly at her green eye. “I think that’s what let me see the demons. And I know what he took from me.” Gideon stopped stitching long enough to look at her. “What?” “Mortality. When I died, I saw the light to heaven and the darkness to hell. Both were barred closed. He took my mortality.” Her eyes drifted closed. Honestly, on a good day she wouldn’t have been able to explain it. So between the pain and the alcohol,

there was no way she’d have a go at it now. Was she unable to die because the gates were closed? Or was it because the gates were closed that she couldn’t die? Then she remembered something. “I have another message for you. I’m not your secretary, you know. You should get your own damn messages. Anyway, someone named Michael said you’ve been given a second chance. Whatever that means.” When she opened her eyes, she caught the look Gideon sent to Paul. While the significance of what Maggie had said sank into him, Gideon started working again with a new intent. “It means,” he said at length, “that I have another chance. A chance at love, thanks to you. I’d given that up long ago.” The way he didn’t look at her when he said it told Maggie everything. Finally, she caught his eye and saw a sparkle that hadn’t been there before. In an instant he was that undeniably beautiful creature she had glimpsed before. “You’ve given me the same chance,” she said.

About the author: K.C. Sehlhorst started writing in 2003 shocking everyone including herself. She lives with her loving husband of almost ten years and her two children. It has become her mission to get her readers to blush at least once during the story. Please let her know if she succeeded with this story: [email protected].

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