The Siren (19 page)

Explosive was a good way to describe what Warren could do. He was still speechless and even a little pale.

Samael looked at us both. “Typically, when we are present, we are unseen, hidden just beyond the veil of what your mortal eyes can see. I only came here today as you see me”—he motioned down at his body—“because of my conversation with your mother. Are you aware of what you are?”

“Seramorta,” I answered.

Samael nodded. “You are very rare, and two of you together, even more so. I had to see for myself if it was true.” His finger moved slowly between me and Warren. “This pairing is quite curious.”

I looked over at Warren. He cocked an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

Frustrated, I rubbed my hands down my face. “Two angels in two days. Now this.” I groaned. “I’m not sure how much more I can stand.”

Samael perked in his seat, his golden eyes wide with intrigue. “You met another angel?”
 

Warren nodded. “A woman named Abigail in Texas.”
 

Samael shook his head. “There is no
Abigail
in our world.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked. “You know everyone in your world?”

“Yes. We have been together from the beginning of time,” he said.

Warren nudged me with his elbow. “Abigail probably isn’t her real name. Remember, we originally thought her name was Rachel.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re right. I didn’t even think to ask.”

Samael smiled. “We rarely go by our real names when we walk among you. Their obscurity makes us more conspicuous than we would prefer, and you can rarely pronounce them properly. Samael is my real name.”

Warren shifted in his seat. “Abigail said I was the son of a death angel. Could you be…?” He was cringing.

Samael laughed. “I am not the only angel in charge over the dead, and I have no children. If I did, I would not be able to cross the spirit line.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Having a child on Earth binds the spirit here. While the child lives, the parent cannot leave,” he said.

My eyes widened. “So our parents are still here?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

I sat forward in my chair. “Do you know who they are or where we might find them?”

He looked at us both carefully before shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I cannot say that I know.”

Warren crossed his arms. “So, what do you want from us, Samael?”

“Nothing,” Samael answered. “I wanted to see if it could be true.”

There was a note of wonder in his voice that made me a bit nervous, though I wasn’t sure why.
 

He pointed at both of us again. “This is not a likely occurrence.”
 

I groaned and looked at Warren. “In other words, it’s not likely a
coincidence
.”

Samael had a knowing smile. “The mortal often dismiss too much as coincidence.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“My time here must come to an end.” Samael slowly rose and extended his hand to me. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Ms. Sloan. But please know your mother no longer suffers, and she is not far away.”

“So, it’s real?” I asked. “Heaven is real?”

“More real than this very room.”
 

The notion was only mildly comforting. I wanted my mother in
my
world, no matter how glorious the other side was. “Can you give her a message?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Tell her I love her and I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to make this right,” I said.

Like a grandfather comforting a child, he put his hand under my chin. “It was time for her suffering to end, Sloan. Someday you will understand.”

Something about his words brought me a strange sense of comfort. I believed him and I doubted him in equal portions.

Warren and I stood, and Samael waved his hand and reopened the doors. A nurse stuck her head into the room as if trying to figure out what had happened in the waiting area, but she quickly disappeared again.

Samael paused before walking outside and looked at us with a serious expression. “I must implore you to exercise extreme caution. There are some to whom you will be a great threat, and they will do everything in their power to overtake you or destroy you.”

Chills ran down my spine. “Why?”

“Because you are more special than you realize.”

My shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to be special.”

With a smile, he bowed his head. “Until we meet again.” Without another word, he disappeared through the door outside.

I pointed toward the exit. “Warren, did that really just happen, or am I so stressed out and exhausted that I’m hallucinating?”

He wrapped his hand around mine. “That really just happened.”

We walked outside, but Samael was nowhere to be seen. “Do you think he was being honest? Do you think he really talked to my mom?”
 

Warren slipped on his sunglasses and pulled the car keys out of his pocket. “I don’t see why he would have any reason to lie about it,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure lying is a sin and angels can’t sin, right?”

I leaned my head against his arm. “Please take me home and lock me away before anything else weird happens. I’ve had enough supernatural crap in the last twenty-four hours to last a lifetime.”

“Are we going to your dad’s?” he asked.

“Yeah. There’s going to be a whole lot of stuff that needs to be taken care of, and I don’t want him to be alone.”

We drove in silence to my parents’ house. My brain ran through the events that had transpired like a horror movie reel that I was unable to stop. We helped take down a human trafficking ring. We found Rachel Smith and she was an angel named Abigail. She informed us we were angel half-breeds. My mother died and crossed into the spirit world. And we met an Angel of Death who told us some other angels might try and kill us. My head was beginning to throb. I longed for the morning before when we were enjoying omelets by the pool and my biggest concern was a marriage proposal.

We rolled to a stop on the cobblestone driveway next to Aunt Joan’s sedan, and it occurred to me it would be the first time in as long as I could remember that I would walk into the house and not smell anything delicious coming from the kitchen. I had never learned how to make Mom’s mashed potatoes. My heart sank and tears would have flowed had my eyes not been all cried out. It’s the little things that hurt the most when the most important things are suddenly gone.
 

I looked at the house, pausing with my hand on the car door handle. “I never should have gone to Texas.” I sighed and pushed the door open with my shoulder.

Anticipating at least a one night stay, Warren carried our suitcases into the house. Aunt Joan was at the bar in the kitchen when we came in, and she looked at us and pressed her finger over her lips. We quietly walked in and she nodded to the den where my dad was stretched out across the leather sofa.
 

I gave her a side hug and lowered my voice to a whisper. “How long has he been asleep?”

“About ten minutes.” She looked up at Warren and stuck out her hand. “I’m Joan Thornton. Audrey’s older sister.”

“Warren Parish,” he answered.

I touched her arm. “Sorry, Aunt Joan. This is my boyfriend.”

She nodded. “I assumed so. Audrey mentioned him a time or two. You’re a detective for the county.”

I hung my head and felt Warren gently squeeze the back of my neck. “No, ma’am,” he answered quietly. “You’re thinking of Detective McNamara.”

She smacked her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re the other one. Military is it?”

“Yes, formerly,” he replied and kissed my forehead.

Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and she flashed me an apologetic, wincing smile. “Please forgive me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Desperate to change the subject, I tapped my watch. “Do you know what the plan is for the day?”

She sighed. “I don’t think we are going to try and do anything today. Your father was up all night long and has been very worried all week. I called the funeral home, and they suggested we come first thing in the morning to make the arrangements. We’ll need to talk about what you and your dad want for the service. A pastor, flowers, and such. I’m just guessing, but I think we will try and have the funeral on Tuesday.”

I had never been to a funeral before.

She held up her cell phone. “I’ve been making calls to everyone who needs to know.”

I picked up the list she had scribbled on the back of a receipt. “Can I help you?”
 

She patted my hand. “Go lie down, sweetie. I know you’ve not gotten much sleep either. I can take care of this. You’re going to need your rest. It’s going to be a trying few days ahead.”

I hugged her again. “Thank you for being here.”

She sniffed and rubbed my forearm. “I just can’t believe how fast this happened. A week ago we were at the farmer’s market picking out pumpkins and now she’s gone.”

I wanted to apologize, but that would sound crazy. “I can’t believe it either,” I said. “I can’t imagine what Dad is going through.”

She shook her head. “Or what he will go through in the days ahead. Those two have been inseparable since the day they first met.”

My eyes turned toward my father who was on his back with his arm draped over his eyes. Mom had not only been his wife of twenty-seven years, but she was also the head nurse in his office, his cook, his bookkeeper, housecleaner, and grocery shopper. I wondered if Dad even knew where to begin with paying bills at home or keeping up with the accounting at work. My heart broke for him all over again.

“I’ll have to start taking better care of him myself,” I said.

She smiled. “We’ll all pitch in.”

I kissed the top of her gray head. “I’m going to try and rest for a while. We’ll be up in my old room if you need me.”

“OK, sweetie. I’ll come get you if necessary,” she said.

Warren and I walked upstairs to my former bedroom that mom had converted to a guest room when I moved out after college. I sank down on the edge of the magnolia print comforter, and Warren gently sat down next to me. I dropped my head and a rogue tear slipped down my cheek. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
 

He turned toward me and gathered me into his arms. “Come here,” he said.
 

I silently cried against his chest, listening to the even thump of his heartbeat and savoring the warm buzz of energy that flowed between us. I wanted to lose myself in him and hide from the pain that threatened to consume me. In his arms, he gently rocked me as his fingers trailed up and down my spine. Warren was my safe haven from the horrors outside of that very moment. I pulled away to look up at him.

His eyes were soft and pleading for a way to remove my burden, and we both knew he would if it were possible. Instead, he cradled my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his thumbs stroking my cheeks.
 

Please
, was the only coherent thought in my head as I stretched up until my lips met his. My fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth parted and moved against mine.

Perhaps Warren was as desperate as I was to escape from reality together because there was no pause for foreplay as his hand slid up the inside of my thigh underneath my skirt. As he bent over me and pressed me back against the pillows, his fingers slid my panties down my legs. A moment later, my skirt was pushed up around my waist and he was inside me. He hadn’t even kicked off his boots.

My vision went in and out of focus until I closed my eyes and melted into the intoxicating surge of our connection. The world went black around me, and the chaos that had fueled everything leading up to that moment was squelched by his touch. I dug my nails into his back, gathering the fabric of the shirt he was still wearing.
 

“I love you, Warren.”

His black hair spilled down across my face as he rocked against me. “I love you too.”

15.

The ensuing days were a nauseating blur, like a week-long hangover from the world’s worst party. There was a visitation and a service at the funeral home where I met more people than I had ever seen in my life. Between countless patients of my father and at least half of the staff at the hospital, people and flowers spilled into every crevice of the building. My dad would have casseroles in his freezer until the apocalypse.

During the service, the pastor rattled on about comfort and grief and encouraged us to not waste the days we are granted. Considering the amount of people who had shown up to offer their condolences, it was comforting to know not one second of my mom’s life had been squandered. The impression she had made on the world was immeasurable, and even greater was the void she left behind.

After the minister shared a final prayer, we rode in a black town car to the graveside. There, they placed my mother’s mahogany casket in the ground. It was surreal, like I was stuck in a nightmare that even the bitter cold couldn’t shake me from.

 
When the formalities were over, a large group of people gathered at my parents’ house where the staff from the hospital brought over enough food to feed the entirety of downtown Asheville. Nathan, Adrianne, and even Shannon came over. Warren and I sat on the porch swing with them on the deck that overlooked the sparkling city. Warren held my hand and gently swung us back and forth.

“Are you going to stay here with your dad for a while?” Adrianne asked.

I looked inside to where my father sat at the table with a few of his friends. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were sad and tired. I nodded. “I’m probably going to stay till he kicks me out,” I said. “This was so sudden. He had no time to prepare for it at all.”

“I’m really sorry, Sloan,” Shannon said gently.
 

Nathan came over and knelt down in front of me. He placed his hands over mine. “You want some good news?”
 

I sighed. “I would love some good news.”

“I made a call to Houston today. They rescued nineteen girls total out of that trafficking ring, and they arrested Larry Mendez,” he said.