Fallen Angels 06 - Immortal (25 page)

She was not supposed to be like that, Jim thought as he ground his Marlboro out in the ashtray on the kitchen table.

Sissy was supposed to have run out of the room when he pushed things just a little, all come-to-her-senses thanks to him. Instead, she’d had him coming all over her hands. And now, even after that was over, she was sitting back against the cupboards, her hair tangled from his hands, lips red and parted, legs … spread.

For him.

He wanted to tell her later. He wanted to tell her no.

He didn’t. He tossed his now-dirty shirt on the floor, and went back to her, running his hands up her thighs, going for her core with his thumbs. He wanted to go down on her. Right here in the kitchen. Just get rid of those jeans and put his knees to the floor and let his tongue do whatever it wanted.

But he didn’t need Ad finishing shit up and coming back here for a drink.

His next option was to go the true penetration route—God knew he was still hard and raring to go. Again, though, that involved her going pants-off, and the idea of any man seeing her undressed and in mid-orgasm during sex made him want to get a nuclear weapon.

The last option was the conservative one. But it was so much better than stopping—and a big-ass improvement over getting caught red-handed.

“You know what I’m picturing right now,” he said into her ear.

“What…” So hoarse, her voice was so hoarse and he loved the sound of it.

“You’re naked.” He started rubbing at her faster. “You’re on your back…”

She moaned and pushed herself against him, like she was seeking exactly what he intended her to have.

“You’re naked and you’re on your back and I’m between your legs.” He kissed her lips and lingered there. “But I’m doing this”—he circled the top of her sex—“with my mouth.”

He thrust his tongue into her as she orgasmed, her nails biting into his back, her breasts arching up. He helped her ride the release out until she went loose in her own skin, her body so pliant and relaxed, he wondered if he could just slip inside of her and …

No more hammering, though. So Ad had either taken a breather or was about to.

Easing back, Jim brushed the hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dazed and wide. She was in a state of total undone … and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Yes…”

“Good.”

When she yawned so hard her jaw cracked, he scooped her up into his arms. As he turned around, he recoiled at the mess he’d made: chairs all over the place, crap that had been on the counter now on the floor, his pack of cigarettes spilled across the table.

“We gotta stop trashing this house,” he muttered as he walked out.

As Ad came into the kitchen, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had fucked things up—and this time, it wasn’t something metaphysical.

Although he was willing to bet there had been some mind blowing going on.

Ad put the ancient book down on the table and arranged the chairs back where they belonged. Then he took a load off and waited. Up on the second floor, he could hear all kinds of movement going on, people walking around, doors closing. After a while, a single pair of heavy footfalls clomped down the stairs.

“I’m in here,” he called out.

When Jim sauntered into the kitchen, the savior was all about the no-big-deal and the nothing-special. “You ready for dinner yet?”

“We need to talk,” Ad countered.

Jim went over and popped the refrigerator. “About what.”

“Your girl.”

Three, two one … except nope, the guy didn’t bother with any kind of denial about that possessive pronoun.

“What about her.” Jim closed the ice box door and went to work on the cupboards. “We got any food?”

“Sea salt–and-vinegar potato chips, fresh bag, at your eleven o’clock.”

“Fucking perfect.”

Ad waited until the guy had sat down across the way and cracked the seal on the chips. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way—”

“So don’t say it.”

“—but we can’t ignore the fact that Sissy might be possessed.”

Down went the bag to the table and that heavy jaw stopped chewing. “What.”

Ad rubbed the center of his own chest—because even raising the issue was enough to give him the heebs. “I think Sissy brought something out of Hell with her. I think it’s inside of her, and the longer it’s in there, the more it’s going to take root and grow.”

Jim shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. She was an innocent when she went in and—”

“There’s a reason people like her aren’t allowed up in Heaven.”

“Excuse me.”

“They’re contaminated.”

Jim got up, his chair squeaking across the bare floorboards. “I’m not hearing—”

“Then explain to me how she can read this.” Ad opened the ancient book up to a random page. “This isn’t Latin, Jim. It’s Devina’s language, and I think Sissy can read it because—”

“No!” The savior crushed the bag in his fist. “You’re fucking out of your mind.”

“It’s what her rages are about.”

“She’s not angry.”

Ad got to his feet, and jacked his torso forward. “She nearly burned the fucking house down, Jim. Quit thinking with your dick and get real.”

Jim pointed a finger across the table, his hand shaking. “I’m going to forget that you said any of this.”

“Then you’re going to lose everything. Including her. Devina is a parasite—she gets into people through an injury to the soul, and once she enters, she divides and conquers. It’s Vin diPietro all over again—”

“No, no, fuck that. There’s nothing wrong with her—I’d sense it like I sense Devina—”

“You didn’t sense shit in the last round, did you. Or any of the others when Devina was at work. And that’s another reason why I think Sissy’s the soul.”

Jim stared at him hard. “I don’t get it—I thought you were cool with her.”

Ad rubbed his tired, aching head. “Goddamn it, Jim—”

“I’m serious. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He’d been afraid of this. He’d been totally fucking afraid of this. “You need to get real here, Jim. Not fight with me, okay? Of course I’m cool with Sissy, but I’m not going to let that get in the way of my being logical—and you sure as shit can’t let that happen.” He kept his voice as level and even as he could. “I’ll say it again. I think Sissy is the soul in play, and you need to get very clearly here, or we are gonna be in a world of hurt. Especially her.”

As Jim stared across at his remaining wingman, he was having a hard time hearing anything over the pounding rush of blood in his ears. Except … no, this was wrong, all wrong.

He shook his head back and forth. “No. She’s not involved in this. Sissy’s not a part of this. I got her out and she’s okay and now we move on to the next soul.”

“Go talk to Nigel if you don’t believe me. Go up there and ask him if she’s allowed behind the castle walls. Why the hell do you think she’s down here with us? It’s because she doesn’t belong anywhere anymore.” Ad cursed and sat back down. “I’m not saying any of this is her fault—shit happens, and she just got dealt a really fucking lousy hand. But let’s not have your emotions get in the way here, k?”

In response, all Jim could do was pace around the kitchen, shaking his head some more and trying to find holes in Ad’s dumb-ass, misconstrued, cocksucking idea.

“She can’t be the soul,” was all he came up with. “She just can’t.”

Ad took a deep breath, like he was about to re-explain particle physics to a lay person. “Don’t be naive, Jim. Every round has had an internal logic to it, a way that you found the soul, a progression from one to another. Sissy’s been there from the start—and your reaction to finding her dead way back in the beginning … shit, that’s like the first clue. It’s as if she’s been precisely made to trigger shit for you, and you’ve followed the whole thing through—from meeting her down in Hell, to finding her body, to getting her out. And now she’s here with you and you’re falling big-time for her—it’s all adding up.”

“No.”

That was all he had. Just … no.

“The stakes are getting higher, Jim. Not just for the war and all of us, but for you. That’s why it has to be her. This is a big test for you.”

His hands shook so badly that when he tried to get his half-empty pack of Reds out of his pocket, he dropped them on the floor.

And like they were trying to point him in the same direction, too, they landed right next to all the shit he’d swept off the counter when he’d started working Sissy out.

So good. She was so fucking good—the way she touched him, the way she felt, everything from her taste to her smooth skin to the way she came for him.

It was the opposite of Devina. Everything about Sissy was the opposite of that devil.

“It’s just not possible,” he mumbled as he struggled to light up.

“The Creator engineers everything.”

“She’s not evil.”

But … she had lied to him. About why she’d looked him up. Although, shit, maybe not. Maybe that was just paranoia talking on his part. Hell, it was entirely possible that she’d left to come home just because … and she had looked him up just because …

Stop thinking with your dick.

With a sense of utter dread, he went over to the table and looked down at that horrible fucking book. Ad had opened it in the middle, and as Jim forced his eyes to focus … he tried to find Latin in what was written. Tried desperately to see something he recognized.

Except God only knew what the wording was. It seemed like some combination of symbols and the Russian alphabet.

But it was not … Latin.

“Let me tell you what the endgame looks like,” Ad said grimly. “Sissy’s infection gets worse … and that’s how Devina infects
you
. It’s going to be through Sissy that this fucks you up.”

The logic of it all started to scare him. “But I’m not one of the souls. And Sissy can’t be. She’s already dead.”

“I didn’t see an exemption in the rules for that, did you?”

Well, no. He hadn’t. But …

“Okay, fine,” Ad said, gesturing with his hands. “Say neither one of you can be a soul in the war. You’re still supposed to be fifty percent evil, right—that’s why Devina agreed to your being the savior. The more angry, the more infected, you are? The better it is for her. And I should know, because I got the cancer, too.” The other angel pointed to his own chest. “It’s in me … too. Eddie was the only one out of the three of us who was pure, because he’d never been with Devina, even after she went for him. That’s why she was so afraid of the guy. That’s why she took him out.”

“I’m not gonna lose Sissy to that bitch again,” Jim said numbly.

“I know, and I can’t decide whether that works in our favor—or against us. And speaking of the devil, Devina came by just now.” Ad said the second half carefully, like the guy knew Jim was two inches from a very steep cliff. “She told me you were looking for her.”

Jim ran through the math again, step by step. And he hated the conclusion he came to. There was nothing in the rules that stated someone like Sissy couldn’t be the soul … and Ad did have a point. The internal logic to the war was undeniable, but only the kind of thing he could recognize in hindsight.

Shit, he thought. He hoped Ad was wrong, he really did.

“Stay here.” He put out his cig. “And watch Sissy for me, okay. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You just worry about her. I’ll take care of everything else.”

As he strode out of the kitchen, he could hear Ad cursing, but he wasn’t going to worry about that crap. He needed to take care of business—and that meant taking a little trip upstairs.

And not to the second floor of this house.

When Jim arrived up in Heaven, he found the place was still lush as Central Park in the summer, the ground green, the sky blue, the castle walls the color of coffee with three creams in it. But the fact that there were only two flags flying up on the parapet was a painful sight.

Jim thought back to the first time he’d woken up with his back flat on the perma-lawn, the sizzle of the electrical shock that had toasted him still coasting through every nerve ending in his body. At least now, he’d made the trip here enough times so that he landed on his feet.

Before he went off looking for the archangels, he turned to the Manse of Souls … and imagined his mother in there. Safe. No longer in pain. Nothing to weigh her down or worry her. He hadn’t seen her since the day she’d died, and, man, he sure could have used a ten-minute TO in there with her. Even if neither one of them said a thing, it would be good to see her one last time in the event he lost this fucking war—

“I’m sorry. I cannot allow you passage therein.”

He pivoted toward Nigel. The guy was like a painting properly restored, nothing dusty or too pale about him now, his limbs apparently having healed up fast and without lingering issues—at least going by the easy way the guy walked over the cropped grass. He was wearing one of his natty 1920s-style suits, the cream of the fine linen glowing like a night-light in the strange, ambient illumination of the place.