Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3) (18 page)

 So while you’re not allowed to hit me
because I’m all injured, I’m going to tell you that I think you’re beautiful
and strong and have a
really
great ass, and although you’re stubborn as
hell and I’m
slightly
COMPLETELY jealous that you can lift more than I
can, and it
REALLY
bugs me that you think you don’t need protecting…

I set the notebook down, certain I was
grinning like an idiot and watched as Joshua got onto his knees and leaned
forward. “I love you,” he whispered, hoarsely, his eyes fixed firmly on mine.

Dave shot off my lap as I gaped at Joshua.
“What?” I asked, then shook my head. “Don’t speak.” I frowned, now wondering if
I had misheard.

Joshua smirked and turned the page on the
note book. Scrawled on the page were the words,
I LOVE YOU!

Joshua started to take the notebook from
me, his expression smug, but I clung to it firmly. “Oh hell no! I’m keeping
this,” I told him. He rolled his eyes, plucked the notebook from me anyway, threw
it on the coffee table, and pulled me to him. I didn’t bother resisting as the
heat from his touch radiated through me.

* * *

I was definitely still grinning like an
idiot the following morning. I’d dutifully woken Joshua up every three hours
and checked his throat – by making him tilt his head back so I could look down
it! Okay, there may have been some more make-out sessions before he went back
to sleep….

I hadn’t had much sleep. Henry’s warning
about making sure he was breathing had me too paranoid to sleep. I’d dozed here
and there, but it was a good job I could actually go a few days without sleep.
In the early hours, I had gone to the grocery store a few blocks over and
picked up some fresh fruit and vanilla ice cream. I was busy trying to peel a
mango when Joshua walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.
“You’re up early,” he whispered.

I gave him a disapproving look as I
dropped the last of the mango into a blender. “You are not allowed to do that,
remember?” I reminded him, before flicking the switch. He might be able to
whisper at me, but there were two very obvious handprints on his neck.

Joshua watched patiently as I made him a
smoothie and poured it into a glass. He took a sip. “My throat feels a little
better,” he whispered. “And I’m not used to writing such long love letters to
girls.”

“I should hope not,” I grinned. The love
letter in question had been removed from the notebook, folded, and placed
carefully into one of the many zipped pockets my jeans had.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk?” he
smirked. I pulled my phone out and handed it over. “Spoilsport.” Regardless, he
started typing and handed the phone back.
Not going 2 lie, it still hurts. I
think it’s going to be smoothies 4 2day at least, but it is starting 2 feel
better. I’ve already sent a text 2 Leon 2 say I won’t be in today, don’t worry.
I’ve got thanksgiving and Fri off anyway.

“Thanksgiving?” I questioned. Was it
really thanksgiving already? Joshua nodded. “Oh.”

“Maggie is expecting us,” Joshua
whispered.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You really
don’t want to use that phone, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine, then I guess I’ll have to do most
of the talking,” I shrugged. That earned me a sly smile. “What?” I demanded.

“Well, darlin’, that means you’re going to
have to talk and not keep it all in that head of yours,” he pointed out.

“I…” I didn’t bother finishing my
objection as he continued to smirk at me. “Whatever. You keep drinking that
smoothie.” I poured my own smoothie. “Okay,” I said, leaning against the
counter. “I have plans. I think that there is something going on at the Port of
New Orleans, and I think Asmodeus is behind it.”

“Really?” Joshua asked, doubtful.

“About ninety percent certain,” I
shrugged. “Valac, the Fallen who killed Michael, seemed surprised to see us
there. I thought it was that he was surprised it was Michael, but the more I
think about it, the more my gut tells me that he was surprised either of us
were there.”

Joshua’s forehead wrinkled as he cocked
his head at me. “You keep replaying what happened,” he whispered. “Is that why
you’re up so early?”

I scratched at the back of my neck and
shook my head. “Actually, I was worried you’d stop breathing as I slept,” I
admitted. As Joshua frowned, I shrugged. “You asked. Sometime around four I got
to thinking that you would need to call in sick again, which had me thinking
about Asmodeus and what he would say – and here we are. Anyway, I’m about ninety
percent certain that he’s doing something dodgy there.”

That earned me an amused smile. “Dodgy?”

“That didn’t warrant you using your
voice,” I scolded him. “If you’re going to speak, at least save it for the
important stuff. And yes, dodgy. Henry said that Asmodeus doesn’t usually turn
up to crime scenes, and at that point, I bet the only person who had recognized
Michael was Henry: there’s no way that Asmodeus would have been there for what
was being reported in the news as a suicide. Even if it was a murder victim,
how many of your crime scenes has he turned up to in the past?”

“Not even the ones Beelzebub and Lilah
were behind,” Joshua conceded. “But it could be a coincidence. He could have
known it was Michael.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I
think if there was another of the Fallen there besides Valac, I wouldn’t be
here now. I barely survived – someone else could have easily swooped in and
finished me off. Plus, remember Asmodeus’ reaction? He was far too surprised
when he found out it was Michael. No,” I shook my head again. “I think he was
there because he wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“So why only ninety percent?” Joshua
asked, before taking a long sip of his smoothie.

“Ty,” I said, simply.

“Elaborate,” Joshua requested, waving his
arm.

“His dad is Beelzebub, and I partly feel
that I shouldn’t trust him by default,” I explained. “All the angels agree that
Nephilim are evil.”

Joshua gave me a sympathetic smile “But
you don’t?”

“I get that they’re half fallen angel, but
they’re also half human. Ty’s the reason I was at the Port, but I really don’t
know if it’s because he’s been scheming with his dad, or because he genuinely
wanted to make it up to me for having my name all over the papers,” I frowned.

“We need to talk to him,” Joshua
suggested.

I shot him a look. “
We
aren’t doing
any talking. If anyone is doing the talking, I am because a) you need to not be
talking right now, and b) his dad is a freaking Prince of Darkness. If I talk
to Ty, you’re not going to be anywhere near.”

“I might have a sore throat, but I also
have a gun,” Joshua retorted. “And he might be Nephilim, but as you pointed
out, that also makes him half human.” And then he started coughing.

I poured the rest of the smoothie from the
blender into his glass and pushed it towards him. “That right there is why you
shouldn’t be seeing Ty with me,” I said, dryly. “At this rate, you won’t make
it to the car, never mind hold a conversation.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going by
yourself,” he wheezed.

“Joshua, please just rest your throat,” I begged.
Although giving me an unimpressed look, he grew quiet, taking long sips of his
drink. “Look, I promise I won’t go without being prepared, and I certainly
won’t see him today. How about we just relax today? You must have a billion
books you want to read?” I asked, gesturing to the wall of bookshelves he had
in his living room. At the look he gave me, I shrugged. “I’m not reading a
book. I’m going to be borrowing your iPad and researching.”

I cleaned up the mess I’d created in the
kitchen, though not before making another batch of mango smoothie, and I
settled onto the couch, joining Joshua. He’d done as I had suggested, pulling a
book off the shelf, using my lap as a footrest. I had borrowed his iPad and
spent the day reading up on nephilim. Or I tried. What was out there was very
much a repeat of the same thing, and nothing really gave me any clue as to how
to approach Ty.

It wasn’t until early evening, and many
smoothies later, that while Joshua was having a nap, I came to a conclusion: I
would simply try appealing to Ty’s human side. I pulled out my phone and
quickly sent him a text.
Can we meet 2morrow?

The response was instant:
Yes. Where?

Good question. Somewhere public. Somewhere
in the Quarter? There was also the fact that it was Thanksgiving and not
everywhere would be open.
Jackson Square. 10am
.

I’ll be there.

That was it. I glanced over at Joshua,
wondering how I was going to meet up with Ty without drawing suspicion.
Considering I had agreed to go to Maggie’s tomorrow, that would be interesting.

* * *

By the next morning, Joshua was able to
speak, albeit hoarsely, without feeling pain – or at least, that’s what he told
me. The red of his eyes had almost eased away, although they still looked
bloodshot. It was almost possible for him to pass as having a cold. The problem
was the handprints had now turned into an ugly purple color. “She will freak,”
Joshua told me, his head in the closet.

“Could you just wear a scarf?” I asked.

“Scarves, like hats, are not welcome at
the table,” Joshua replied. Finally, he emerged, clutching at something. “Don’t
you dare laugh,” he warned me.

“Too busy staring at you to do that.” When
Joshua smirked, I fell backwards on the bed – I hadn’t meant to say that one
aloud, even if it was true.

“What do you think?” Joshua asked.

It was the fact he sounded nervous that
had me propping myself up by my elbows. Joshua wore dress shirts. Whether they
were a dark shade of blue or black which he had bought, or something plaid
which he rarely wore unless he was going to see Maggie, apart from the odd
t-shirt, I’d never seen him in anything else. Now, he was wearing a pale gray
turtleneck sweater, with a thicker, black cardigan. It was definitely not his
style, but… “You look good,” I assured him. I got up and walked over, frowning.
“You’re not going to be able to fold that over though,” I told him, reaching up
and pulling at the thin material of the neck of the sweater so it completely
covered his throat.

I had dressed in my new uniform which was
all part of the plan I’d been working on. Joshua drove us to Maggie’s for half nine.
When he pulled up, I didn’t get out of the car. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m not dressed appropriately,” I told
him. “I doubt we’re going to be fighting the Fallen here.”

Joshua frowned. “You could have said
something earlier.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I
thought it would be okay, but these are going to get uncomfortable before I’ve
finished my meal.”

“At least the traffic is quiet today,”
Joshua muttered, starting the car again.

“Don’t be silly,” I told him brightly.
“We’re already here. You go in and get comfortable. You’re already missing the
parade. I can be there and back before Maggie has food on the table.”

“I’ve been spotted now,” he relented. I
looked to the house and found Maggie waving at us.

“You go in and act as a diversion so I can
get away,” I told him. He didn’t look the slightest bit suspicious as he left
the car and headed to the house. I quickly swapped seats and drove away before
Maggie could come out. I felt guilty – I didn’t like the fact that Joshua
didn’t seem to have a clue what I was doing, but I knew if I said I was going
to see Ty he would insist on coming. Much as I wanted to trust Ty, there was
nothing that would convince me to bring Joshua along and potentially put him in
danger.

I arrived at Jackson Square early. There
were hardly any people about, and it was peaceful. I took a seat opposite the
St. Louis Cathedral – easily one of my favorite buildings in the city – and
waited. Jackson Square was a small park in the Quarter, but it was more of a
historic garden than a place to play and have fun. It wasn’t a large area but
the lawns and gardens were always well maintained. Now, however, I could see
whoever looked after the area was struggling with it. The grass was barely
green and there were large patches of dirt where the grass had died. Even the
flowers in the borders were shriveling and turning brown.

Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long. Ty
was early too. “I’m so glad you wanted to meet,” he told me as he got close. “I
didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”

He looked so troubled at that thought, my
initial urge to punch him and tell him to go to hell, vanished. “I didn’t think
I wanted to,” I admitted. He sat down on the bench beside me, but maintained a
reasonable distance between us. I peered over at him. “Have you been crying?”

Ty looked away, staring at the statue of
President Jackson, the centerpiece of the park, before finally nodding. He
pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over, showing me a photograph
of him and another guy. It took me a moment to place him: he was the guy who
had been in Qube when I had gone to see Ty. “Zeke was murdered yesterday.”

“I guess we’ve both lost someone
recently,” I said, and then instantly regretted it. That wasn’t fair. Death
wasn’t a competition. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I didn’t know that would happen,” Ty
said, looking back to me. “I promise you that. If I’d have known it was a trap,
I never would have said anything.”

“Was it a trap?” I asked him.

Ty slowly shook his head. “I don’t think
so. I heard my dad on the phone – they weren’t expecting anyone there, much
less Michael.”

“So why did you tell me?” I asked,
carefully.

Ty’s eyes widened in surprise. “Does it
matter?”

I nodded, chewing at my lip. “I think it
does. I think the answer may be more important than you realize.”

Ty turned his body to face me then. He
leaned forward, supporting his weight on the bench. “I get that my dad will
never win any humanitarian awards,” he said, ignoring my derisive snort. “But
dad has always been about the disorder, rather than the death.”

“Oh, please,” I snorted again.

“No, really! At least while I’ve been
alive, anyway. He owns bars and strip clubs across the state – the kind of
places that give bars and strip clubs the bad reputation. He encourages the bad
behavior. Bee’s is the classiest place he owns, and that’s only because he
promised my mother,” Ty said, earnestly. “But even if you ignore Bee’s, the
rest of the bars – dad likes to see people consume way more than they should.
That leads to all kind of sin, debauchery, and crime, but it keeps people
alive. People are no good dead.”

“So why did you tell me?” I asked again.

“Like I said, dad is never going to win
any humanitarian awards, but the past year, he has gotten way worse. He came
back from his annual trip to Vegas last Thanksgiving and he was on a mission.
The other guys-”

“They would be the other Princes?” I asked,
cutting him off. Ty nodded. “Just so we’re clear, they would be…?”

Ty squirmed. “If I tell you this, are you
going to believe me when I say I want to help?”

“It depends on what you tell me,” I said,
firmly.

“Fine,” Ty sighed, although he remained
looking uncomfortable. “Dad, Asmodeus, Abaddon, Mammon, and Satan.”

“I thought there was another. Belphegor?”

“There were seven once, until Leviathan
was murdered,” Ty corrected me. I narrowed my eyes: Leviathan had been killed
by Paddy about sixteen hundred years ago after Levi had gone on a killing spree
in Ireland. I wasn’t entirely certain that ‘murdered’ was the term I would use.
“Belphegor disappeared – I heard dad say he thought he was dead too. I don’t
know. I never met him.”

“So your dad and four Princes of Darkness
decided to hold an annual retreat in Las Vegas?” I asked, dubiously.

“It was Mammon’s turn to host.”

I stared in disbelief as I processed what
I was being told. “You’re telling me there’s a third Prince of Darkness in
America?” Ty slowly nodded. “And your dad returned from this a different
person?”

“I don’t know what happened there, but not
long after he came back, he found Lilah and the next thing I knew, the weather
was stuck on hot.”

“That’s Beelzebub’s fault?” I asked,
surprised I had been right that the Fallen were behind the unusually warm
weather.

Ty winced. “Can you please not call him
that?”

I snorted, not caring how unattractive it
was. “It’s his name!”

“Please?” Ty begged.

“Fine!” I exclaimed, although I really
didn’t know why I was agreeing. “Terrence.
Terrence
is behind the sucky
weather? Is he the one who created Tabitha?”

“It’s one of his gifts,” Ty agreed. He was
looking more and more miserable the longer this conversation went on. “But he
can’t create weather – he can’t stand in the street and decided to bring a snow
storm. He can just manipulate what’s there. Tabitha he made stronger, and this
heat, he’s dragging it out.”

“Why?” I asked. “What benefit does it
have?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I do know
that hot weather tends to shorten people’s tempers and the crime rate has gone
up the last couple of months. Dad tracks that like most people track their
football team’s stats. The murder rate has doubled.”

Something clicked. “Your friend who was
murdered? That’s why you’re telling me all this?”

Ty looked confused, and then the
realization set in. “No. Zeke was killed this morning. This thing with dad had
been going on longer. Besides, I’m certain dad had nothing to do with Zeke’s
murder.”

“You don’t think the weather would have
made someone act crazy and kill him?” I asked.

“Zeke was a Nephilim, like me,” Ty
replied.

“Maybe he was killed
because
he was
Nephilim,” I muttered.

“That’s what I’m scared of,” Ty said,
quietly. “Look, the reason I’m telling you this has nothing to do with Zeke.
That’s something else altogether.”

“You still haven’t explained why you’re
telling me all this,” I pointed out. “Why did you tell me about Asmodeus and
the Port?”

Ty opened his mouth, ready to say
something, but instead closed it, shaking his head instead. “Let’s just say I
have my reasons.”

I stared at him, the doubts I had about
him flaring to life again. Half human, half Fallen… just because you were human
didn’t mean you were automatically a good person. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll
be straight with you, even if I’m not sure you’re being straight with me. I
think there is something going on at the Port, and I think Asmodeus is behind
it and your dad is, at least, in on it. I think that you didn’t tell me about
it with the intention of anyone getting hurt, because Asmodeus was concerned
enough to go there after. I also think you know more than you’re telling me
about it too.” I leaned in. “How am I doing?”