Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (12 page)

“Don’t be a wiseass.”

“Then don’t be a damn fool. You’ve only got one thing that’s any good to me.”

Her heart sank. “You want Fluvium.”

“Bingo.” Japheth folded bulging arms across blood-streaked silver. “Lead me to Fluvium, and I’ll take off the mark. When Fluvium’s dead,” he added hastily, as if forestalling demon trickery. “Not a moment before.”

Rose laughed, sick. What else could she do? There was no way. Even if she’d
wanted
to, there was no way…

Japheth’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

“You stupid heaventrash, haven’t you figured it out?” Rose jammed hands on hips, frustrated. “I lied, okay? Fluvium always comes to
me
! I have no idea where he’s hiding. Not a clue.”

*   *   *

Japheth stared, still catching his breath.

The bitch tricked him. Again.

His mark glowed sickly blue on her forehead. Crossed lightning bolts, the sigil of the Tainted Host. It reflected in her eyes, a dark indigo gleam. Awful. Beautiful. Corrupted heavenlight, shimmering its way down to hell…

“Don’t believe you.” He refused to uncross his arms. He’d come this far. She wasn’t getting away now.

“Fine. I don’t care. Keep looking in the wrong places. Suits me just peachy.” She tilted her gaze up through dark lashes, challenging.

His fists clenched. He wanted to squeeze that damned insolence out of her. “How do you know this is the wrong place, if you don’t know where he is?”

She laughed. “Listen, moron, he doesn’t have an evil supervillain’s lair! There’s no castle you can storm, or whatever you Dark Age dickheads like to do. I just met him in some nightclub. And then some room on Fifth Avenue by the park. He doesn’t live there. He doesn’t live anywhere!”

Images assaulted him. The filthy demon on top of her, his burning flesh inside her. Her long legs wrapped around him, the air sultry with sweat and sighs… Japheth clenched his jaw tight. “So you
are
his whore.”

She scowled. “Don’t sneer at me, choirboy. Twelve of your prissy brothers came before you and every single one of them was up for a good screw.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not them.”

“Right. Like you’ve never dragged some blushing girlie back to your place to slip her a hot one.”

“Matter of fact,” he said stonily, “I haven’t.”

“What, not at your place? Or never?”

He glared, frigid. Fourteen hundred years—give or take a few lurid mistakes—might as well be never. “None of your cursed business, whore.”

She laughed. “Jesus. I’m talking to the Virgin frickin’ Mary…hey, hey, don’t be hasty, gunslinger.” She raised her hands, warding off his glower. “I’ve never been to his place, okay? If he’s even got a place. Believe me, I’ve looked for the sly son of Satan.”

“Then you’re no use to me.” He conjured his sword, an impatient blue flash.

Her face paled. “Wait—”

“Go quietly and it’ll be better for you.” He flitted closer, keeping his gaze steady on hers. But his feathers itched, disappointed. Was that fear, glimmering deep like underwater
flame? Killing just another cowering devilslave wouldn’t be nearly as sweet…

Another trick. Don’t look at her. Don’t listen to another word from her pretty poison lips. Just stab her through the heart, and walk away
…

She jumped back. “I said hold on, asshole. Maybe I can still help you.”

“How? There’s only one way you’re any use—”

“I told you, I don’t know where he keeps himself!” For the first time, stress cracked her voice. “We’re just minions to him, even the Chosen. We’re not his buddies. He doesn’t hang with us. He just appears out of nowhere and frightens the crap out of me.”

“Sorry. Do better.” His sword tip kissed a crimson line under her chin. “Unless you like this, hellspawn. Had enough, is that it? Want me to put you out of your misery?”

She winced, feminine. “Ouch. That hurts, you know—”

“Five seconds.”

“I can give you the coven master!” The words rushed out of her. “Caliban. He’s strongest of all the Chosen. He’ll know how to summon Fluvium.”

“Are you sure?” He jabbed the point harder.

“Of course I’m sure!” To her credit, she didn’t back off. But her face shone pale, her dark eyes wide. “I’m just small fry. Caliban is something else. He’s the guy you want. I’ll show you. Just promise you’ll take your stinking mark off.”

Swiftly, Japheth considered. The West Village was a big place, infested with muties and Manhattan virus leftovers and all manner of hellspawn. He’d need Rose’s help to find this coven master in time for Michael’s deadline.

And if she was tricking him? He’d have her blood. Pin her down, impale her on his steely shaft, watch her writhe…

He didn’t budge. “I’ll take it off when we find Fluvium. Not a moment before.”

“Promise you won’t kill me afterwards, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

His guts heated. Of course he’d have to kill her afterwards. The beautiful bitch was demonspawn. Chosen. Not just a helpless infected bloodsucker, but Fluvium’s willing disciple.

But…he needed her help. His soul was within reach. Without her, he’d never earn his way back to heaven.

His fingers clenched, painful. Lie to her. Smear his honor in the dirt. Stain his heart with sin.

Or lose this chance forever.

CHAPTER 9

“You have my word.”

The lie burned like demon’s blood in his mouth. His stomach went watery. Holy mercy, he’d never felt this naked. Surely she’d see the untruth, shining from his face like a torch…

But a satisfied smile curled her lips. “Deal. Now put that sword away before you hurt yourself.”

Heaven’s precious light. She’d believed him.

Trusted him. Kept faith in the word of an angel.

His cheeks lit warm. This was surreal. He should be triumphant. But he just wanted to shake her. Slam some sense into her, scream at her to run from him, that he was a monster, to open her goddamned eyes before it was too late…

He stepped aside, and flashed his sword away. “Afraid, vampire?”

Sullenly she rubbed her bleeding throat. His mark glowed sickly on her forehead like a disease. “Just biding my time, heavenscum. I never promised I’d
like
helping you.”

“Consider the feeling mutual.” His feathers curled, uncomfortable. Mocking her didn’t make him feel better. Already he’d compromised his honor. His skin slicked filthy with his lies. God, he wanted to flash away from here. Dive under the
shower, scrub that horrid untruth from his skin until he bled raw.

She shrugged. “Whatever, hero. First time we met, you kissed me senseless. Go ahead, pretend you don’t want to get naked with me.”

“Careful what you conjure, bloodsucker. I could rip you apart.” But his gaze strayed to her hair, the way her braid swung in warm midnight air. Her smooth, feminine throat. Her t-shirt, riding up over her hip, that lickable flash of bare skin. Her magnificent breasts, so firm and full. Hell, yeah. They were amazing, the nipples poking at her thin t-shirt. Still hard, from the fight or fear or…

“Hello? My face is up here?” She pointed, giving him a triumphant grin.

He gritted cold teeth, willing the hungry itch in his balls to fade. Hell, he wanted everything to fade. The guilt, the vile longing, the way his skin sparkled under her sultry dark gaze. “Mock me and it’ll be worse for you.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I like shy boys. We can go slow, if you don’t know what to do…”

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and crushed her against the wall.

She gasped, her full lips parting. He wanted to lick them. Her breasts swelled against his chest plate. Her rich curves taunted him, pressing into his secret places, springing skin and blood and feathers alive…

He knew what to do, all right. And it tormented him to the bloody edge of his reason.

A hint of breathless smile. “Get off on hitting women, do you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He yanked her braid tighter. “You wear a weapon. You’re in this war. You fight me, you give up the right to cry innocent.”

“Ooh, I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Left-handed, he sprang his dagger from the ether, a wicked rippled blade made for double-handed combat. Its edge glittered red like fresh blood. “I said, don’t mock me, hellwitch. My glory might not burn you. Doesn’t mean I can’t make this excruciating.”

Her dark stare taunted him. Thick lashes, black like a starless midnight. “It’s Rose. Rose Harley. Not ‘hellwitch’ or ‘whore’ or ‘vampire.’ Do me the courtesy.”

His blade pricked her throat, one single ruby droplet on the steel.

His mouth watered. He’d tortured hellspawn in heaven’s name before. He did whatever was necessary in battle’s glory-rich delight, and if sometimes he enjoyed it, well, that was the penance he paid. Hurting hellspawn was his job. Heaven let him keep his gifts for a reason. No one up there cared about his conscience when there was work to be done.

Some angels worked it off after battle, like Dash with his endless parade of tiny women. Japheth never did. Never forgave himself the rush. A cold shower, bruises and aches, never the undeserved pardon of release.

But that single crimson drop of blood staining this woman’s throat led him places he’d never dared go. Hot, sultry, breathless places, spicy with sighs and forbidden delights…

He swallowed, sweating. To taste her, that salty female flavor, danger and sin and sex melted into one. Liquid moonlight in his mouth, her hot juices running down his throat…

His fingers bruised her neck. “Let this be clear between us, Rose Harley,” he said roughly. “While my mark lasts, you’ll do as I say.”

She rolled dark eyes, mocking. “Here we go with the schoolgirl fantasies. How dirty do you like it?”

“Don’t be juvenile. You’ll lead me to this coven master…?”

“Caliban, moron. Were you listening at all, or just staring at my boobs?”

“Caliban,” he affirmed, nudging her chin higher. “Aside from that? I don’t want to know you. You don’t ask questions. You don’t speak to me unless you must. And you sure as hell don’t touch me outside of battle. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” A twist of sardonic smile. “So…will you let go first, or should I?”

“Ooh, very clever.” He caressed his blade point across her ripe bottom lip. So taut, such delicate skin. If he pressed a little harder, would it pop, like a cherry? “You think you’re tempting me? Think you can make me forget myself?”

“Just helping things along.” She leaned closer, and her warm breath ghosted over his cheek. Seductive, scented with coppery suggestion. “Be reasonable, angel. We’ve both got needs. You’re a good-looking guy. Even a frigid imbecile like you must know that. No rule says we can’t use each other while we’ve got the opportunity.”

His body ached hard. Suck her warm cursed flesh into his mouth, feel his teeth crunch on her disgusting vampire skin as she moaned his name…

His mind reeled, dry and fevered. Heaven, what was wrong with him? This earth rained pretty women. Clever ones, too. Willing ones, even, skin on show, candid glances, whispered invitations on painted lips. But he’d never desired one like this. Never wanted to take a woman and lose himself in her pleasure, her flavor, the salt-sweet softness of her sex…

Keep it frosty.
She was Chosen. Her hellspells were powerful, that was all. And he’d resist her, like he resisted all the others.

Because the alternative was monstrous. Unthinkable. He’d spent the last fourteen hundred years not thinking it.

Just a demon’s spell. That’s all. Don’t let her win.

He inhaled her hell-spiked flavor, daring himself closer to the edge. “Japheth,” he growled, and it rumbled deep and primitive in his chest. “Not ‘angel’ or ‘heaventrash’ or ‘asshole.’ You want me to say your name, Angel Slayer? You can damn well say mine.”

She grinned, sharp. “Japheth, then. Don’t think it’ll stop me cutting out your heart.”

A wolfish smile spread before he could quench it. Sweet savior, in another life he could learn to like this warrior woman. It only made her a more formidable enemy.

And never say that Japheth of the Tainted turned his back on an enemy.

“I’d be disappointed if it did. Do you want the truth, Rose Harley?”