My Way to Hell (25 page)

He grinned. Damn him. He was grinning. “Oooh—big, bad demon. Well done. But forget it. Again, I revert back to the article I read in a medical journal about defense mechanisms and the brain’s reaction to them. Your defense, when someone gets too close, is to run away. You don’t want to get in too deep because you’ve been sorely disappointed so much in your life that you’re afraid to be hurt by something that has as much impact as what just happened between us did.”

“How much do you charge an hour?”

“For?”

“Your psych evals.”

“Consider this pro bono.”

“For charity cases like poor, little me?”

“For ex-demons who’re wussies and won’t own their real feelings.” He grinned again, wide and delectable. Just for good measure.

“And this is owning yours? We just slammed the shit out of each other. Sometimes, the brain’s reaction after bumping uglies is to be all warm and fuzzy. It’s the release of all those hormones and they’re usually all wonky, Mr. Science Teacher, and I don’t need some silly medical journal to tell me that. Maybe you might want to sleep on it,” she retorted, purposely being cruel.

“Ah, now this is the part where you say things you don’t really mean because you want to push me away. It’s okay. I get it. Go on. Hurt me.”

Run. She desperately wanted to run. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s far past the time for you to stop running away. That wasn’t just sex we had, Marcella. You know it. I know it. Own it.”

As though, because Kellen Markham had said it—it should be deemed so. Hah!

Shoving at his heavy weight, she scoffed. “I’m not running away from anything. We had sex. People have it all the time. In fact, I’d bet there are at least a million people who’re making each other’s eyeballs wobble as we speak. So what?”

“Nah. We didn’t just have sex. We made love. Love, love, looove. Suck that up, Buttercup.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, but only further infuriating her.

“Get off of me, you beast. Jesus, what did you have for lunch? You’re heavy.”

“I had a tuna melt on wheat with American cheese. My favorite. In case you ever can actually hold a frying pan again. Oh, and I don’t like ketchup on my fries. I love these things called Choco-Bliss, could eat ’em by the box, and if you ever tell D I said that, I’ll lie to her face. I’m not a fan of fish unless it’s a stick or fried and buried in tartar sauce. My favorite vegetable is green beans. I read comic books for fun, but if I’m honest, I like
Popular Science
just as much. I’m a sci-fi nut and there’s nothing better than watching NASCAR with a beer because you can nap between laps without missing much. And funny, you weren’t complaining about my weight when we
made love
.”

Kellen liked Choco-Bliss? Oh, to have a box of those fuckers right now. Her chest tightened, her throat right behind it. “This isn’t
Love Connection,
Chuck Woolery. I don’t care what you like.”

With a nod of his head, he smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, you do.”

Her eyes turned pleading. “Can’t we just leave this alone? Take it for what it was, and let it be?”

“It was
making love
. And sure, we could do that, but if we did that, we’d only regret it later. And I’m not so much into regrets anymore.”

“I have no regrets.” Which made her a liar.

“You will if you run away from me now. I’m a fine specimen of man. Loyal, honest, maybe a little pigheaded, and once very judgmental, but those days are gone. You’re a smart girl. Why would you want to miss out on all of this?” he teased.

Because all of
this
would be taken from her. When or where, she had no clue. But it would. That was just a fact, and she finally admitted as much. “Because all of you will be here and all of me will be back on Plane Drab.”

His gaze became tender but riddled with determination. “Well, here’s the thing. I’m not going to let that happen. I don’t know how I’ll stop it, but I will. I’ll find a way. I’ll pay better attention to my otherworldly contacts. I’ll sit with them all night and listen to their gibberish with pleasure if it means figuring this out. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Marcella Acosta—you’re not going anywhere.” Planting a kiss on her nose, he tightened his grip, obviously knowing his admission was a surefire way to scare her into flight, er, float.

Whatever.

But it was impossible to deny how much she wanted his words to become a reality. How much she wanted to let go of the reality and hope right along with him, if only just for a little while. “I’m too afraid to hope for that.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Ah, an admission of fear. Now we’re getting somewhere. Look, I know it seems impossible, but I have faith there’s a reason you can’t get back to where you were when this began. I don’t know what it is, but there is one.”

Well, yeah. It was because she’d skipped the class “Plane Jumping without a Parachute” due to one of her extended pity parties. “I think you’re placing way too much faith in karma, destiny, whatever. I think I can’t get back simply because I didn’t pay attention when they were teaching me how to get back. I was moping.”

“You’re due a certain amount of moping.”

“Thank you for granting my wish, Moping Fairy.”

Rolling over, Kellen pulled her on top of him, pressing her sensitive nipples to his chest. “We need a plan.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You need your head examined.”

“No. I need you to cooperate.”

“I’m not important. Carlos is important. If you’re going to summon up the afterlife, do it for him. Not me.”

He stared at her for a long time. “I just can’t understand how I missed this quality in you.”

“What quality?”

“The selfless one. Your fear for Carlos is much bigger than even your desire to stay here.”

“I wouldn’t lay odds that if someone offered me the chance to shop for a new damned dress, I wouldn’t give him up like a bad habit.”

Kellen’s chest rumbled with laughter, sending a sweet thrill of ridiculousness throughout her body. “I would.” He kissed her then, long, slow, toe-curling. “I think we should take Delaney up on her offer to have a séance and see who we can contact.”

“Did you tell her about Carlos?”

“I did, and she said the best way to find something out is to summon the spirits and see what we can see.”

“I saw Lucifer today.”

Concern laced his glance up at her. “Stay the hell away from him, Marcella. I mean it. I’ll kill him if he touches one pretty hair on your head. I realize he’s got a whole army of minions who’d probably rip me to shreds with their whacked mojo, but he’ll remember who I am before I go down.”

That protective tone he was showing off made her go all gooey on the inside again. “He can’t hurt me anymore, Kellen. I’m not under his rule, and believe me, he was thrilled to tell me so.”

Kellen’s eyes turned to granite. “So what did the prick have to say for himself?”

“He claims he knows nothing about Armando, but you can bet your ass now that he’s gotten wind Armando’s rogue, he’ll want to know what’s up. If nothing else, that might work in our favor.”

“Do you believe him? He’s not exactly known for his honesty.”

“I can’t explain why I do, but yes. I believe him. So let’s forget him and focus on what Delaney said.”

“She’s convinced we can find help for Carlos. The problem is she’s not so convinced they’ll talk to me instead of her.”

“Well, you aren’t exactly Melinda Gordon.”

He grabbed a handful of her butt and squeezed it playfully. “Hey. Neither was Delaney.”

Marcella’s eyes went soft. “But she had a way with them that I can’t describe. She joked with them. She cajoled them into doing what she wanted—which was for everyone to have a happy eternity. Celebrities showed up by the dozen for her. And speaking of, have we considered what Joe and Maurice said?”

“Right now it means nothing to me. It doesn’t add up to anything significant. I did look up Joe and this ‘monkey business’ he keeps referring to. It’s a title from one of Marilyn Monroe’s films, and could have a million different meanings. There’s been plenty of monkey business going on. Though I think the ‘how can you mend a broken heart’ and ‘jive talkin” referred to you and what happened with your son.” He said it tentatively, letting her mull the information.

Indirectly, it made sense. She had done a lot of jive talkin’, and she’d certainly had a broken heart that needed mending. “That’s very true. Either way, they’re not giving us the kind of information Delaney was able to get from them. I don’t know what it was, but all of the afterlife loved her.” Her admiration for Delaney had always been next to iconic. Time and time again, when she’d wanted to throw her hands up and flip whatever ghost had come calling the bird because they were interfering with their lunch date, Delaney’d hung tough.

Nipping at her lower lip, Kellen said, “She deserves to know about your son—about you. Who you really are.”

“Delaney knows who I really am.” Her voice hitched. She’d always known—somehow. Delaney had placed trust in her more than any other human being. Delaney knew who she was better than anyone else.

Nuzzling her neck, he nodded. “You’re right, but I know she’d want to share your grief—your heartache. So that your burden isn’t quite as heavy, because that’s who Delaney is.”

Letting her head fall to rest on his, Marcella took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s tell her.”

“What was his name, Marcella? Your son?”

Shudders, silent yet so painful, rippled along her body. Swallowing, she closed her eyes, clenched them, then opened them to look down at him. “David. His name was David.”

Pulling her down to the comfort of his chest, Kellen tucked her beside him, cradling her head in his hand, stroking her hair. “Tell me about David, sweetheart. Tell me all about him.”

And she did.

Long into the night while he held her, letting his hands and words bring her solace.

For those few hours, the world stood still. There was no afterlife or ghosts and demons. There was no angry past between them. There was no fear. There was no other shoe waiting to drop.

There were simply two people—learning each other’s quirks—laughing—whispering intimacies—discovering every facet of one another.

By night’s end, there were also two people who were falling in love.

By the time one of them realized it—it was too late to dig in her three-inch heels and kick and scream the entire way.

The raucous pounding on the store’s door jolted Marcella awake.

What a wonderfully earthly thing to be.

Running a hand along Kellen’s arm, she gave him a slight shake while admiring the view the sheet that had fallen to just below his waist allowed. “Somebody wants in.”

His hazel eyes popped open, bleary from their long night, but when they fell upon her they smiled, making her heart shift and shudder.

The pounding grew insistent. “Who the hell?” he muttered, reaching to the floor for his discarded jeans. Marcella smiled sleepily, watching the tug and play of his muscles as he threw on a shirt and ran a tanned hand through his rumpled hair.

Her heart did that jumpy thing again, making her breathing choppy.

Vern and Shirley stretched beside her, kneading her thigh with unsheathed claws and purring their contentment. Marcella reached an absent hand down to stroke their backs, forgetting she couldn’t touch them.

The sun, weak and mottled with clouds, tried to shine in through the bedroom window. If not for the crashing fist on the storefront’s door, this day would almost be normal, a day like any other day in a human’s life.

Last night she and Kellen had been able to set those differences aside. Let them lie dormant while they entwined their fingers, talked, laughed, made love again—this time with slow, purposeful intent. They’d done all the things any normal couple would do when they discovered one another intimately for the first time, and it was good, right.

But she wasn’t normal.

Yet she longed to be with a heart that ached.

She wanted to get up every day at the same time. Make coffee, eat breakfast. Take a shower, get on the subway and go sit in some cubicle for eight hours a day, then come home and share her dinner with someone other than Mr. Yin at the Seven Dragons Diner. Maybe watch some TV. She wanted to do it without floating, or shooting fireballs and summoning locusts while Lucifer breathed down her neck.

She wanted to do that with Kellen.

Hope. He’d made her hope there was a way out of this impossible situation, and she didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry.

Kellen’s head poked around the door’s corner. “We have a problem.”

“We have so many problems, what’s one more?”

“Carlos is here. Mrs. Ramirez claims this daughter gone bad of hers hasn’t come home, and she’s determined to find her. She said she’s going to start in all the neighborhood bars.”

Marcella’s eyes went wide. “My dress. Can you help? We can’t let her go alone, Kellen. I’ll follow her. She’s not cut out for some of the places in this neighborhood.”

“And you are?”

“I know, I know. I’m transparent, but I can at least follow her and try to watch out for her. You can’t go. Who’d watch Carlos? You can’t leave him here with me—the ghost sitter. Mrs. Ramirez might buy that Carlos has the gift, but she’d never buy me.”

Pulling her from the bed, he planted a kiss on her mouth before dropping her dress over her head. “I’ve got Delaney on the way. She’s in the city to have lunch with Clyde anyway. No way am I letting that cute little old lady hit the bars alone.”

Relief flooded her. As much as she’d like to think she could handle whatever came Mrs. Ramirez’s way, she couldn’t exactly do much when she couldn’t even walk on solid ground. “Thank God. Where’s Carlos?” She wanted to poke her head around the corner. Talk to him.
See
him. With a compelling urge she had no explanation for.