A Demon Bound (Imp Book 1) (25 page)

At that time, Gregory came back out of the restaurant with a little bag. I quickly slipped my car keys into Wyatt’s hand, and tried to resume my subdued mien. The angel nodded at Candy and Wyatt and seemed pleased to see me with my butt rooted to the seat of the car as when he had left me. I yanked my torn shirt off as he tossed me the bag.

It was a small pink tank top. Really small. You’d think he would have had a better idea of my size from crushing me against a building. I snapped the tag off and unfolded it, pausing a moment when I saw the design. A stylized geometric angel in gold with a triangle body, triangle wings, circle head and a halo was featured prominently on the front, filling the shirt from neckline to waist. I hadn’t realized Gregory had a sense of humor. I had to force myself not to laugh as I pulled it over my head. Submissive, meek, obedient, I chanted to myself in my head.

The shirt was outrageously tight. It molded against my breasts and the outlines of my abs. My cleavage burst above the neckline like my boobs were trying to escape the confines of the shirt. I looked less like an angel and more like a Hooters’ waitress. Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the effect, and he glared at Gregory in suspicion and jealousy. Jealousy? Now that was funny.

When we walked into The Lamb, I saw the reason for Gregory’s fashion choice. And the reason for the name. The whole gift shop was awash in angel and Christian religious items. I was actually grateful he hadn’t gotten me a “Jesus is my co–pilot” shirt, or the one with the blond, blue eyed, Germanic Jesus praying to what would have been my left boob if I’d had the shirt on.

The hostess sat us near the buffet, casting adoring glances at Gregory the whole time. There were crosses on the walls, and scripture verses on the placemats. I wondered if I should oblige them and burst into flames or something. None of the employees seemed to notice the irony of my presence here. It would have been great fun to have Wyatt pretend to exorcise me, but I doubted this was the appropriate time for those kinds of antics. Maybe we’d come back in a week or two. If I was still alive then.

Wyatt and Candy began telling Gregory what they’d discovered on Wyatt’s tablet. They’d found a campground nearby and snagged us a cabin; not easy to do since we were at the height of the summer holiday season. Candy placidly avoided looking at me, while Wyatt shot furious glances back and forth between me and Gregory. Great. All I needed now was Wyatt to get testosterone filled and start a cock fight over me. If a .50 caliber bullet didn’t harm the angel, I doubted Wyatt’s fists would do much except piss off Gregory enough to snap his neck.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I announced. Gregory hardly gave me a glance, and the others ignored my statement.

I actually did use the bathroom, mainly to delay looking at my arm. Finally, I could avoid it no longer. I took a breath and pulled the armhole of the overly small tank top down, raising my arm to the mirror. Fuck. The tattoos of angels’ wings on the werewolf victims were small and tan. They looked like tiny birthmarks, or skin discolorations from too much sun and too little sunscreen. You wouldn’t even notice them if you weren’t looking for them. This was over three inches long, in black and deep red purple. It was vivid and clear; a sword with detailed angel wings curving up as guards from the hilt. Gregory’s sword, tattooed in his color. Surrounding it was a round area of reddened raised skin. Like a hickey. I wondered why I hadn’t been able to fix the hickey? I wondered if I exploded myself out and recreated my whole flesh from the DNA pattern if the tattoo and the hickey would go away? I doubted it. Besides, a burst that big would bring a furious Gregory barreling into the women’s room to beat my ass.

I carefully ran a finger along the hickey mark and the tattoo, feeling with my energy as well as my skin, and just about dropped to my knees. Lust poured through me and I shook with desire. Great. Just touch it and I was ready to hump the sink faucets. I felt it more gently, trying to explore it without triggering the sexual stimulation. The tattoo, the very color of it, thrummed and vibrated within me. I ran my finger over the hickey and felt the same humming, although it was more flesh centered and not as deep. The hickey mark seemed to have a direct line to my genitals, where the tattoo poured its red purple streaks down into my personal energy. The tattoo was just as much a sexual stimulation as the hickey mark, only different in that it turned on the non–human, non–corporeal part of myself.

Well, this was just splendid. I now had a super sensitive erogenous zone on the under part of my arm. No need to get in my pants, just run your fingers up my arm and watch me melt. Or lick it. I envisioned for a moment how that would feel, and my whole body trembled. Mmmm. Maybe I could ignore my hunger for food and just lock myself in the bathroom, drive myself to ecstasy for a few hours.

Tempting as that was, I lowered my arm and concentrated on trying to explore the weird red purple stuff that had invaded my very core. It was like a network of roots, of tiny little hairs driven deep into my personal energy. It was solid, cold, impersonal. I tried to probe it, to feel it out, to determine what it did and how it operated, but couldn’t discover anything. It resisted all my attempts to explore it.

Next, I tried to push it out, to gather it together into a manageable mass, or even cut it into sections, to no avail. It just sat there like an uncomfortable alien presence imbedded inside me. I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever get it out. I doubted I’d be able to absorb it or neutralize it, and it seemed to resist any attempt at removal. Maybe Gregory could get it out. Not that he’d care. He’d stuck it there and the only way it was probably going to leave was with my death. Which would no doubt be soon.

Pulling myself back to more constructive thoughts, I wondered what the purpose was of the tattoo and the hickey. I didn’t think Gregory intended to put a sexual brand on me. He was furious when he’d done it, not remotely in an amorous mood. I couldn’t imagine what it did beyond turn me into even more of a horn dog than I had been before. Common sense would lead me to believe that this was either some kind of punishment or a method to track, find, and control me. I doubted even the most ignorant angel would think sexual stimulation would be punishment to a demon, so it must be the latter. Strange, because I really didn’t feel like I was under his or anyone else’s’ control.

Unable to withstand my hunger any longer, I walked out of the bathroom and grabbed some food from the buffet on my way back. It was typical country fare, and I loved fried chicken, backfat green beans, and corn casserole.

Candy remained her placid self at the table, picking at her country ham, but Gregory looked furious. He was practically grinding his teeth and had his napkin balled up tight in a fist. I looked at Wyatt in alarm. Wyatt looked back and shook his head. He clearly didn’t know what was going on either. I sat down and scooted my chair a few inches away. Gregory took a deep breath as I sat down, and let it slowly out. I felt him glare at me as he struggled to relax. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? I told him I was going to the bathroom. I didn’t sneak out the window, I didn’t use any energy, did no conversions. Why was he so mad at me?

“What is your problem?” I asked, unable to resist confronting him. He’d smacked me around, chewed up my arm, stuck a bunch of his whatever into me and added to my already heightened libido. He had no reason to be so pissed at me. “I didn’t try to get away, I didn’t kill anyone. I was just in the damned bathroom. Why the fuck are you so pissed off?”

Candy kicked me under the table and mouthed “shut up” at me in desperation.

“She doesn’t need to shut up,” Wyatt snapped at her, coming to my defense. “It’s your fault. You and your stupid werewolf problems. And you,” he said turning to Gregory. “She’s not hurting anyone. Your angel buddy is the one who attacked us. You have no right to treat her this way.”

Now I was alarmed. Gregory looked at Wyatt as if he were barely restraining himself from killing him right here in the busy restaurant with everyone looking on.

“I have every right, you miserable demon toy. This is not any of your business. You shouldn’t presume to interfere in the affairs of higher life forms.”

The angel began to glow slightly and I tensed, ready to dive in front of Wyatt if I needed to.

“Don’t believe your silly folk tales,” he continued. “Being human is no protection against me. I’m allowing you to live because you are useful to me at this moment. Cease to be useful, or become too much of an annoyance and I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Wyatt did not look like he was about to back down. Admirable, but stupid. I knew Gregory fully meant what he said, so I grabbed Wyatt’s hand under the table and squeezed it. He looked down at me and I could see him struggling to retreat. I got the feeling Wyatt had never backed down from a fight in his life, and this was terribly hard for him. I could sympathize, but in this instance it was either back down, or die.

Candy distracted Gregory with some discussion on strategy as I smiled at Wyatt and rubbed my thumb on his palm. This was going to be hard trying to stay alive, escaping the clutches of this angel, and keeping Wyatt’s knight–in–shining–armor impulses from getting him killed. I needed to keep a lid on my stupid mouth and go back to my meek and submissive routine if I had any hope of success. Somehow I managed this throughout dinner, and even crammed up against Gregory on the drive to the campground.

The cabins were tiny and the ranger wasn’t pleased that we were squeezing four people into one. There was no other cabin available though, so he let it go. The campground had winding loops of dirt roads leading to areas for tent camping, RV camping, and finally the cabins. Our section had ten cabins, spaced about an acre apart and surrounded by woods. Each cabin had a grassy patch in front of it, kind of like a lawn that reached from the porch to the road. The road widened in to form a parking area where campers were expected to carry their belongings across the lawn and into the cabin. Worn paths showed where hundreds of campers had lugged their gear back and forth for years.

Rough hewn logs made up the exterior and interior of the cabins. Electricity service ended with the street lights, and Wyatt grumbled that he would need to charge his electronic devices through the cars. There was no television, no phone, no coffee maker, and no vibrating bed. There was no bathroom, either. We’d need to walk down the road about a quarter of a mile to a shared bathroom that thankfully had propane heated showers. There was a woodstove in the cabin; not that we’d need it in August. Hopefully, the woods would help cool things down in the evenings and we wouldn’t miss the conveniences of air conditioning or fans.

As soon as we got in, Gregory announced he had some things to do and left. I was shocked he actually left me behind. Perhaps the meek and submissive routine was working? I doubted it. Of course if the tattoo thing was a kind of homing device, then he wouldn’t really need to have me within eyeshot every waking moment. He’d be able to locate me within seconds. The thought was depressing.

No sooner had Gregory left then Candy’s placid air disappeared and she rounded on me. “You are going to get us all killed! I manage to get him calm and cooperative, then five minutes with you and he’s ready to go on a massacre with that sword of his.”

“I’m just trying to keep myself from getting killed.”

“If you were helpful and stopped making him so angry, he might let you live.”

“What planet are you from? His sole purpose is to kill my kind. And he has a perfect kill–ratio, so far. If I don’t get away from him soon, it’s game over for me. Do you seriously think he’s going to decide I’m not so bad, after all, and let me go? Trust me, it’s not gonna happen.”

“He’s an angel. He’s supposed to be merciful and on the side of law and order. If you toe the line, he’ll probably just banish you and let you live,” she countered. Clearly she’d forgotten Gregory’s ominous speech to Wyatt in the restaurant.

“No fucking way he’s going to let me live,” I told her vehemently. “They don’t banish us, because we keep coming back if they do. They kill us, every single time. The only mercy I’d get is a quick death, and I seriously doubt he’s got an ounce of mercy in him.”

“He’s not like you,” she insisted. “He’s good and you’re evil.”

“The
fuck
he’s not like me. You go ahead and swallow the Kool–aid propaganda they’ve doled out over the centuries. He’s
just
like me. He killed a fucking cop today just to keep me from getting away. An innocent cop who was doing nothing but his job. He’s probably got a wife and kids, and that fucking angel didn’t think twice about it.” That gave Candy pause.

“You’ve seen what the angels have done to your own kind — to your werewolves. Althean is on a killing rampage, and Gregory cares only to cover it up and subdue Althean before he gets caught and Gregory gets his ass nailed by some higher up. He doesn’t give a shit about humans, werewolves, anyone but his own kind. I killed your pack mate in self defense. I’ve been here forty years living as a human and you don’t see me enacting some genetic cleansing program, do you? I may be a tough bitch, but I’m not killing pregnant women and cops.” Well, there was that one cop in Atlanta, but she didn’t know about that.

Candy paused, considering my words. “All right, so he’s not what popular culture has made angels out to be. He does seem to be more like you than unlike you, honestly. I don’t just have my life here to think about, though. I’ve got the future of my species. I know this sounds callous, but I’m trying to figure out what course of action to take that will result in the best outcome for my kind.” She looked at me sympathetically. “He’s cleaning your clock, Sam. He may be the better bet here.”

Wow, that was brutally honest and I actually appreciated it. I had suspected Candy was calculating and ruthless, and these were qualities I admired. I could hardly fault her for them. Besides, Gregory
was
cleaning my clock. Hell, I’d throw my bet behind him in her place, too. The odds were much better.