Hollyweird (16 page)

Jameson

“Jameson, remember how Michael said there were several dupe copies of the spear?” Des asked me.

“Yeah,” I said absently, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. “Too late to find one now.”

We were sitting in the car outside Dakota's mansion.
I stared at up at it, repelled by the incongruity of its fairy-tale appearance. The 10,000 square foot, 1928 Tudor home, with its six bedrooms and eleven bathrooms, resembled a small castle and boasted a 270-degree view from downtown to Catalina Island. The city lights twinkled through palm tree fronds, making an idyllic picture. Anyone on the outside might imagine a California pop star princess sitting in the turret room awaiting her buff and tan Prince Charming, but looks were deceiving.

Darkness lived within. And I had to go in there and hand over the spear that would allow that darkness to rule the world.

Fail.

Not only would Dakota step into power, but I'd managed to put the girls in jeopardy. He'd insisted I bring them along. If we somehow came out of this alive, I expected to be hog-tied to a spit and slow-roasted in hell.

Epic fail.

“Jameson. Jameson?” Aly said.

“Dude, quit daydreaming,” Des said in exasperation, smacking me on the back of the head. “I'm trying to tell you, Little Miss Goody Two Shoes already stole a dupe.”

“What?” I asked, looking at Aly in shock.

With a self-conscious smile, she said, “I thought about the fake idols on
Survivor
and how the players used them to trick each other. I figured it couldn't hurt, so while you were at the airport, Des and I snuck back into the
Paranormal PI
prop house and stole a spearhead that looked similar. After Googling ‘Spear of Destiny' I remembered seeing a lookalike on our tour. I think it was in the episode called ‘Absolute Power Corrupts.' ”

“Can you believe it?” Des asked with a delighted cackle. “If we die tonight, I'll be happy knowing she finally broke the rules.”

“Enough with the funereal humor,” Aly said.

“It's a coping mechanism,” Des said with a huff.

“No one is dying,” Aly said firmly. “I forbid it.”

“Look at you getting your bad-ass self on,” Des said. “I'm so proud I could bust.”

Aly rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched as she repressed a smile.

“I can't believe you did that,” I said.

She shrugged. “I felt helpless and had to do
something
.”

I grabbed her by the face and gave her a big smacking kiss on the forehead. “You're brilliant. Let me see it.”

She pulled a spearhead from her purse and held it next to the real relic. They were similar in size and shape. Anyone seeing the two side-by-side could easily identify the original, but Dakota had never seen the Spear of Destiny, as far as we knew. With any luck, the fake just might convince him.

Guess it was now or never. And for Missy, never wasn't an option.

“Let's go in and hand this over,” I said, taking the mock relic in hand. “Get Missy and get out.”

“Amen,” Des cried from the back seat.

“If something goes wrong,” I told them, my eyes locked with Aly's, “go!”

“We won't leave you,” she vowed. “I keep telling you, you're not in this alone.”

In that moment, I knew without a doubt I loved her. I'd been drawn to her spunk, dazzled by her beauty, touched by her pain, and charmed with her humor. But it was her selfless heart, her loving nature, that made this fallen bad boy want to voluntarily leap into the fires of hell before letting anything happen to her.

When it comes to those three little words—I, love, you—guys generally fall into one of three camps. (1) They say it just to get laid; (2) they avoid saying it like the plague; and (3) they say it only when they really mean it. I'd never said it to anyone before, when I was alive. I wanted to say it now, but the timing sucked. Instead I said, “You're stubborn, you know that?”

As she lowered her head with a blush, I looked back to Des and mouthed a fierce, “Go!”

She gave a firm nod and I knew she'd get Aly to safety. Looking heavenward, I sent up a silent prayer.

Dear God. Please help me stop Dakota and keep the girls safe. Amen.

“Let's go,” I said, yanking the door handle.

Before we even reached the mansion door, it swung open and a smug Dakota greeted us in track pants and a Nike shirt. Huh. Guess the ritual didn't require formal attire.

Noticing me eyeing his clothes, he rubbed the trademarked swish on his pec. “Too casual, you think? Personally, I liked the symbolism. Just Do It!”

Right. What he was just about to do would likely kill me. And millions of others.

“So glad you could make it,” he said, as if inviting us to a party and not the start of a revolution.

I followed him to his living room, the girls trailing behind. Plopping himself in the center of an L-shaped black leather couch, Dakota crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his arms.

“Got something for me?” he asked.

I held up the fake spear. “Where's Missy?”

“Right.” He nodded. “We did discuss an exchange. She's not very happy, though. You might not want her back.”

Aly stepped to my side and asked why.

“You”—he pointed at Aly—“are
numero uno
on her shitlist. Seems you've been keeping her in the dark, so I felt I should enlighten her.” He gifted Aly with a nasty smile when she groaned, and then hollered for one of his henchmen.

Missy struggled against her guard in a blind rage. I could see from the bloody furrows on his cheek that she'd gotten in at least one good shot. But it was her appearance that made Aly gasp. The woman we'd always known to be camera-ready looked picture perfect … for a mug shot. Matted, snarled hair, eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, lips cracked and chewed. Aly's sharp breath caught Missy's attention and she forgot about her captor and turned on her sister. “You lying bitch. All this time you've been keeping the truth from me. Did you think I was too stupid to handle it?”

“No, Missy,” Aly cried, reaching out to her. “I wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me!” Missy spat. “Like you protected Mom? She left work late because you called her crying about some stupid rumor someone spread about you. If she'd left on time, she wouldn't have died. It's your fault.”

I stepped in front of Aly, blocking her view. “Don't listen to her, Alyson. Dakota's been playing with her. She's ensnared in Wrath.”

Too hurt to care, Aly moved past me with tears streaking down her face. “Missy, please,” she pleaded.

“Please what?” Missy said, her voice so venomous Aly looked like she'd been struck. “You killed her, and then you left me at the mercy of Satan's son.”

“Oh, God,” Aly cried. “Did he hurt you?”

“Please,” Dakota said, sounding both bored and insulted. “I didn't touch a hair on her head. This is far more amusing.”

“He showed me things.” A shudder quaked Missy's body. “Terrible things I wish I'd never seen.”

“Enough with this. Shut up,” Dakota snapped at Missy. Dutifully she closed her mouth, but her eyes still burned with anger. “Playtime's done,” he said. He stood up and held out his hand.

I tossed him the fake.

He studied the spear, turning it over and over in his hand. Then gave a humorless laugh. “Clearly I've been too kind with you, feather.”

Stomach plummeting, I swallowed hard before saying, “You know?”

“Figured it out sometime in the second week,” he bragged as he stepped toe to toe with me. “Nailed this hot vamp with a keen nose. Thought it best to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.” Flipping his bangs back, he said, “While you were keeping an eye on me, I found the perfect distraction for you.” He threw Aly a flirty wink before ordering his guard to release Missy and take a hike. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.” His eyes flashed crimson and he locked his blazing gaze with mine. Fisting his hand, he twisted his wrist as if wringing something tight. I heard Missy wheeze and over his shoulder saw her hands flutter to her throat. Coughing, she gasped for air, her eyes bulging in fear and pain. Never breaking eye contact with me, Dakota said, “Hand it over before I crush her windpipe.”

So much for our ace in the hole.

“Don't hurt her,” Aly whimpered. “Please. I have it here.” She pulled the real spearhead out from underneath her shirt and Dakota reached for it.

“No!” I yelled, snatching it from Aly. If she passed it to Dakota, she'd die. Looking at the lance in my hand, I realized I now had nothing left to lose. Leaning in, I allowed myself the forbidden pleasure of kissing her petal-soft lips. My soul sighed with a sense of homecoming. Then I broke the biggest rule of all. “I love you, Alyson King,” I whispered.

“Jameson.” She stroked my cheek, her eyes teary and pained with the knowledge that I'd soon die, again, for her. Only this time I didn't know what would happen to me.

Dakota kept tightening his fist until Missy dropped to the ground and writhed on the floor. “Give me that,” he ordered.

Aly rushed to Missy's side and, making herself vulnerable, slipped Shade's necklace over Missy's head. Holding one hand up in surrender, I offered the spear to Dakota with my other.

“Oh, ho ho, I get it,” Dakota said with a scathing laugh as he took it. “A little hara-kiri for your honey. So touching. I'd love to stick around to witness your tragic death scene, but I've got a ceremony to get to. Unless,” he said thoughtfully, “you want to join the dark side. We've got cookies, you know.”

“I'm more of a pie man,” I said sarcastically.

“Figures,” Dakota said. “It's almost a pity you won't be at the mercy of my preternaturals once they're free. They love a good hunt.”

As he walked away, Missy struggled to her feet. Powered by rage and the strength of Shade's necklace, she launched herself toward Dakota's back with a guttural cry. At the last second, he turned, and Missy barreled into him. The force of her blow smashed Dakota against the wall and pinned the spearhead between them, stabbing him in the thigh.

“Oh, ow ow, ooh owie,” Dakota said with heavy sarcasm.

Missy yanked the spear from his leg and tossed it to me. The sharp edge of the blade sliced into the meaty part of my palm as I caught it. Blood dripped from my hand to the Persian carpet.

Dakota stuck his finger through the hole in his track pants. “Look what you've gone and done. You've ruined my favorite pants.” He waved his hand and sent Missy sailing across the room into an ebony bookcase. She slid to the floor in an unconscious heap as books rained down on her.

Things were spiraling out of control way too fast. I had to do something to stop him. But what? I didn't have any real super-powers.

“Blood,” Des murmured. “Angel blood!”

Now wasn't the time to get woozy over a little gore. I prayed she wouldn't pass out. Then again, maybe that would be safer. Flicking a quick glance at the girls, I saw them communicate in some kind of BFF shorthand of meaningful looks and hand gestures. WTH were they up to? Before I could figure it out, let alone put a stop to it, Aly ran over and yanked the spear from my hand, deepening the wound. My palm pooled with blood as I stared at her in shock.

Dakota, seeing her as an easy target, straightened up with a smile. His confidence was short-lived as Aly took aim and flung the Lance of Longinus at him like a dart. The point pierced Dakota's chest with a solid thunk. Wide-eyed, he stared at it uncomprehending.

Then Aly King fearlessly marched up to him and said, “God's blood heals and binds; it's strength and love. He's not here, but his child, his angel, is. Jameson's blood ought to kick your ass.” Then she shoved the blood-smeared spear the rest of the way into Dakota Danvers' black, putrid heart.

ALY

“Dear God,” I prayed, “I know Jameson broke the rules, but please don't punish him.” Lying on a daybed in a private, poolside cabana, I took a quick minute to plead for Jameson while Missy and Des went to get drinks. Hidden from sun worshipers by a canopy curtain, I closed my eyes and folded my hands. “He sacrificed his life for mine. I'd think that's just the kind of angel you'd want.” I wicked away a tear running down my cheek. “It's been a very long time since I've prayed. I'm sorry. You'll hear from me from now on. Promise. I just hope you can give him another chance.” My throat clogged with emotion, I ended my appeal with a choked, “I love him.”

“I love you too, Aly.”

“Jameson!”

His head poked through the curtain.

My heart leapt against my ribs. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said with a tender smile. “Don't be embarrassed.”

I tucked my legs close to me and scooted over to give him room on the daybed. “What happened?” I asked as I clasped his hand with my own. “It feels like you've been gone forever. I've been so worried.”

“Mikey came and got the spear.”

“Good!” I closed my eyes in relief. “I wasn't going to relax until it was out of your hands.”

“It's safely back in heaven where it belongs.” Chuckling, he added, “First he made me take him to the beach for a blue-raspberry snow cone.”

“What about Dakota?” I asked. I'd seen him burn to dust with my own eyes, but I didn't trust he was really gone.

“He's dead, Aly. Gone.”

I took in my first full breath of the day.

“Eventually one of his employees will report him missing,” Jameson said. “Since there's nothing left of him, it'll go down as a big unsolved Hollywood mystery. He'll be all over the headlines soon. More famous in death than in life. Once word gets out, I'm going to do my best to find jobs for his legit employees. I've already got something in mind for Francis.”

Suddenly, the most inane thing came to mind. “No more
Paranormal PI
.”

“Sad?”

“No,” I said with a laugh. “I've
been
a paranormal PI. I don't need to watch a show about one.”

Looking at me, the corners of Jameson's mouth quirked.

“What?” I asked. “You look like Sylvester would after swallowing Tweety.”

“More good news,” he teased.

Shaking his arm, I demanded he tell me.

“I've been reinstated!”

“What? I thought … ” I sagged in relief, but at the same time I wanted to cry. He'd be leaving me.

“With a provision.”

“Provision?” I asked. “Did you or didn't you get your halo and wings back?”

In answer, he waved his hand over his head to reveal a glowing circlet of light. Its golden luminescence bathed him in warmth. Clasping my hands to my chest, I looked on his ethereal beauty with awe.

“Whoooa,” I breathed. “And your wings?”

Once again he waved his hand, making the halo fade away.

“My wings are still clipped.”

“What?” I cried.

“It okay,” he soothed. “That means I've been grounded.”

“I don't understand.” I crinkled my nose in confusion. “I thought you said you weren't in trouble.”

“I'm not,” he said, as if he couldn't believe it himself. “God said even though I broke the rules by falling for you, when I took the spear from you, I showed self-sacrifice. When I talked to him on the phone—”

“Talked to him?” I held up my hand to stop him. “You actually
spoke
with him?”

His eyes wrinkled at the corners with the depth of his smile. “I did. Want to know what his ringtone was?” I nodded and he said, “ ‘Personal Jesus' by Depeche Mode. The dude's got a great sense of humor. He told me I've learned humility and benevolence and he would be best served if I kept doing what I have been.”

“So you mean … ” Too afraid to hope, I couldn't finish my sentence.

“I'm staying on Earth.”

I threw my arms around his neck. “Jameson, that's wonderful!”

He squeezed me in a tight hug. “I think so, too.”

Pulling back, I asked, “Are you staying in L.A.?”

“I'll live here, but since Dakota's dead, this place isn't going to be the hotbed for hedonism it once was. At least not until one of his siblings slithers in. I'll go wherever the job requires.”

“Like that old show,
Highway to Heaven
,” I said. “But you're not a traveling salesman, you're a gypsy angel.”

Jameson laughed and, lifting my chin, gave me a sweet kiss.

“Isn't that a no-no?” I murmured, my eyes still closed, my body still melty.

“Nope,” he said, then brushed his lips against mine again as if to prove his point. “God sent you to me.”

I jerked straight and popped my eyes open. “What?”

Jameson stroked the end of my ponytail. “He meant for us to be together.”

Whoa. That was … I didn't know what that was. “It was against the rules for you to fall for me, but he meant for us to be together? It was a test?”

“Tricky, huh?”

“Is everything pre-planned? Fated to be?” I had to admit I didn't like that idea.

“No,” Jameson assured me. “We have free will. God may set us on a certain path—even make two paths cross—but it's up to us to choose which direction we go.”

Comforted, thrilled even, I said, “I'm glad you chose me.”

“Uh oh,” Des said as she walked in on us kissing. “I should've knocked.”

“It's fine.” I waved her in. Des plopped on the bed next to me while Missy followed her in, dragging an Adirondack chair. “Guess what?”

“You're becoming a nun,” Missy said with a droll smile.

Last night, while Jameson dealt with the fallout from Dakota's death, Missy, Des, and I had cuddled into one bed at our hotel and talked for hours. We'd filled Missy in on the details, and she explained how Dakota had sent a witch to duel with Shade while one of his goons snatched her. Shade was fine, more pissed off than anything. And Missy and I were closer than ever. There'd been a lot of cathartic, snot-sobbing tears and apologies. She really didn't hold me responsible for Mom's death, and we both felt great comfort in knowing she watched over us. After two years, we were finally starting to heal.

“I'll become a nun when you become a waitress,” I teased her. “Seriously, Jameson just got amazing news.” Giving him another squeeze, I said, “He's been reinstated, but God's letting him work on Earth.”

“Awesome,” Des said, slapping Jameson a high-five.

“Will you be here in L.A. with me?” Missy asked.

“You're staying?” Jameson asked.

“Yep,” she said, as she raised her Sangria in salute. “Dakota might've been a douche demon, but he got me seen. I've got my Jimmy Choos in the door now and I plan to make it.”

“She's going home with us Sunday morning to pack up her stuff, and then she's flying back in two weeks,” I told him.

“Already have my ticket,” Missy said.

“That means we have two reasons to come back and visit.” I marveled at the fact we'd only been in L.A. for four days but our whole world had changed. A part of me was looking forward to going back home—to seeing my dad again, watching those DVDs of Mom with Missy, and having an amazing senior year with Desi.

I'd returned to the living.

Too bad I would leave my heart in California.

Rubbing my nose against Jameson's in an Eskimo kiss, I said, “I know we're meant to be together, but how am I ever going to be apart from you? Even for a little while?”

“It might not be as long as you think,” he said.

“Why's that?”

“Remember how I told you Dakota's sister, Selene, had holed up somewhere in Colorado? Rumor has it she's making a real asp of herself in Aspen.”

I giggled at his joke while Des and Missy gave exaggerated groans. “Well, if something wicked this way comes, so should you,” I said.

“As soon as I get an assignment from Mikey, you'll be the first to know. In the meantime, do what I've done since becoming an angel.”

“And what's that?” I asked, knowing I'd do whatever it took to keep him in my life.

With an impish twinkle in his eyes he said, “Have a little faith and wing it.”

The End