The Watcher (31 page)

Seeing the change in Michael, Damiel hissed. “Do you think I’m back just for her?”

Without a word, Michael lunged for his sword. The blade shot out immediately in a flash of blue light, slicing Damiel’s waist. It left no mark. “I think you came back for me.”

“You flatter yourself.” Visibly weakened, Damiel spat on the floor. But when Michael kept his attention on the fight and didn’t respond, he continued, “I’m back for another chance at having my offspring. You
killed
him last time.”

Michael stopped fighting as a look of recognition and horror crossed his face. Every candle in the room flickered as though they’d been hit by a gust of wind. Seizing the moment, Damiel persisted. “That’s right. Your precious Sajani was unfaithful to you.” Hearing him use my ancient name felt obscene.

What he said must have affected Michael too, because Damiel was able to knock him down, driving a thunderous blow between the wings that brought him to his knees. “I was always better. Even better at satisfying her.”

Michael looked at me and there was pain in his eyes. More pain I’d put there. The memory of being enthralled and overpowered by Damiel millennia ago came back to me. I didn’t have a chance to fight him off. And now, unable to move or speak, I still couldn’t fight. I couldn’t even explain what happened. There was no way to tell Michael the truth.

The room chilled, and hoarfrost formed on the windows as hundreds of black, shadowy creatures—hellhounds—stormed the cabin like a massive infestation of cockroaches—that is, if cockroaches were the size of wolves. Although I knew a lone hellhound could hardly get past an angel’s halo, a group of them was another matter. These had already materialized, and soon, after several had fallen to the strength of Michael and Arielle’s halos, others managed to get through. Within a minute, they were swarmed. The two of them fought well, their swords blazing blue light with speed and deadly accuracy, but they were quickly overcome. Black smoke, slime, and blood spattered everywhere. As fast as Michael could heal, the creatures tore at his flesh. His breathing labored, he even cried out. Arielle lost her balance and fell.

Certain that the hellhounds would finish the angels off, Damiel walked away from the fight with a smug look on his face and turned to me. “Now, where were we?”

I fought the urge to scream, knowing I wouldn’t make a sound. It would just make me feel pathetic. I could wiggle my toes now and move my hands with great effort. I had to outsmart him, to buy myself time, so I gave Damiel what I hoped was a sultry smile and said nothing. It seemed to work. He walked toward me, unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Could deceit work on the deceiver? I was about to find out.

“Right. You were going to tell me how much you wanted me.” He waved his hand and something released in my throat.

“How do you see this playing out?” I asked him. He glared at me seductively. I swallowed the bile that rose to my mouth. “I mean, once we do this, what about the child? What about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep saying you want me. But what if you got me?”

“Oh, I will.” He gave me a menacing look.

“What if I
wanted
to be with you?”

He looked dubious, so I lied more. I could only hear the fighting in the other room, Michael’s increased breathing, the wet, thudding sounds of flesh being hit, the cracking of bones. I had to focus, keep my attention on Damiel and remember that his sin was, above all else, envy. I had to use it to my advantage.

“You were right, you know. I could never be satisfied with half a relationship. That’s why I ended it. Wanting but never having—this whole celibacy thing gets tired after a while,” I said, hoping he’d buy it.

To my relief, he did. He rushed me then and kissed me. It was animalistic and passionate, and very human. Hardly demonic at all. The heady flood of his energetic glamour poured into me, making the experience less horrible than I expected. Not that it was pleasant or exciting by any means, but my body seemed to know what it needed to do to survive, and I responded to him.

Just close your eyes and think of Michael
, a voice inside me said.
Tell him what you’d tell Michael.

“I wish I could touch you,” I heard myself say, motioning to my hands with my eyes.

Damiel stopped kissing me and placed his hand on my face. The gesture freed me from my bondage so I could move again. As promised, I touched his chest, pretending it belonged to someone else, someone I loved. His skin was smooth and warm to the touch. It was Giulio’s skin, but Damiel seemed to enjoy it.

“What if…” I began, then paused, waiting for him to want to hear what I had to say.

“What if what?” he asked, kissing my neck. I held my breath so I would be forced to gasp, to elevate my own breathing.

“What if I wanted you more than him?”

His eyes glowed red. “I can make that possible for you.” He then lifted his hand to my forehead again and I could see the dark swirls coming off his fingers. All I had to do was let him touch me and I would want to be with him. All of this would be easy.

I shook my head. “It won’t be real if you force me.”

He stared at me a long time, as though trying to figure me out. I did my best to give him a smoldering look. I still heard fighting in the next room, but couldn’t move to watch what was going on. I just prayed that Michael was safe. Arielle, too. At the very least, I needed to keep Damiel distracted.

“Why wouldn’t I want you just for you?” I put on a smile, stroking his chest. “Have you
seen
you?”

He let out a deep laugh that sounded even more inhuman than before and kissed my neck, his teeth grazing my throat. I gasped involuntarily with fear but pretended to enjoy it.

“If you want the love that should be Michael’s,” I said, “you can have it.”

He hesitated. Envy is the act of wanting what another person has. Once something was given freely, would it mean the same? He said he wanted me to look at him the way I looked at Michael. Would it work? Would he still want my heart if it didn’t belong to another? I remembered how I felt with Michael, the breathless need to connect, and I tried to show that in my eyes. I could only hope he bought it. Then he kissed me again, hungrily, without gentleness, as his hands explored my body. I squirmed involuntarily; luckily he took it for pleasure.

I kept talking and, not sure what exactly to say, I ad-libbed. “Yes, you can have me…and I will have your son, as I did so long ago.” He let out a grunt of pleasure hearing that, which told me I was on the right track. “Let Michael keep his goodness…”

Hearing that, he stopped kissing me. A snarl formed on his face.

Ignoring the threat of his rage, I continued, “And his redemption.”

Damiel sat up abruptly, his eyes flashing red. For a moment, I thought he might hit me. “I don’t want that!”

“Good. Everyone leaves me. Even Michael. I can never be with him. All he cares about is seeing Heaven again, his home. He misses it. There was never a day in our past that he didn’t, and I wouldn’t want the same from you. I need a guy who knows what he wants.”

The fighting sounds in the background slowed. I held my breath in the eerie quiet, waiting to see who won.

“I did miss it,” Michael’s voice echoed from the doorway. I bit my lip, trying not to show my relief at seeing him alive. Even with dark rings under his eyes and blood and black fluid matted in his hair, covering his clothes, he was a glorious sight. Light seemed to emanate from him. “Every day on earth, as beautiful as it is, can never touch the beauty of Heaven.”

Rage exploded through Damiel like a firecracker and he was on his feet. “Why won’t you die already?” Turning to his opponent, he poised himself to attack. Michael tilted his head to one side and swung out his sword, ready.

“No. Wait. Damiel. Please hear me!”

He backed up, a step out of Michael’s reach. Not letting Michael out of his sight, Damiel wouldn’t turn to look at me, not even for a second. “What is it, sweetness? Don’t you think your charade is over now?”

“No. I don’t want him to hurt
you
.”

Damiel gave me a triumphant grin. Michael looked defeated. All I could do was pray he’d understand what I was doing and count on the fact that he could feel my feelings and know the truth.

“You’re not going to leave me, are you? Go back?”

This time Damiel did look, and Michael could have taken a shot but didn’t. Instead, he watched me with curiosity as the demon asked, “Back where?”

“To Heaven,” I explained. “If Michael had a shot at redemption after all
his
sins, why wouldn’t you?”

My words hit Damiel like a blow, visibly shaking him.

“It’s only fair.” Arielle stepped through the doorway, covered in grime and dusting black soot off herself. “She’s right, you know,” she said, her face perfectly neutral. “You could always come back…if you wanted to.”

“It would be work,” Michael said. He glanced at Arielle, and a look of understanding shot between them. “A lot of work.”

I had no idea if what we were saying was true, but it seemed to have an effect. Energy swarmed around Damiel like black angry wasps, as though he were being stung by his own greed. He rushed Michael, and in turn Michael raised his sword and dug it into Damiel’s—or, rather, Giulio’s—body. As I had seen before, the body went limp, undamaged. Only this time it was different. Michael stood fiercely, watching the body, or rather the energy
around
it, form into a dense black swirl.

Accompanied by a loud electrical cracking sound, the swirl grew and began to take on a skeletal shape, growing taller and taller until it almost touched the ceiling. Then it fleshed out, literally, as black sinews and muscles grew over the bones. The body resembled the hooded creatures Arielle had been fighting—only much larger. Strong and completely hairless, it towered at least six inches above Michael. Tattered, leathery wings sprang from its huge, spiny back, but they remained tucked to fit in the small room. The demon turned sideways and its face was pointed, angular. I didn’t need to look into the eyes to know they were red.

It spoke in a deep hiss. “What makes you think I would want to go to Heaven?”

Michael stepped in toward the creature that was Damiel and let down his sword. His eyes ablaze and his halo flaring, he too was something to behold. I’m not sure if it was the sight of him or the danger he put himself in, but I had to remind my heart to beat.

“Because,” he said, “I remember who you are.”

Damiel stood transfixed, and Michael leaned in to place a hand on his opponent’s heart.

A golden fire blazed between them, engulfing and searing the demon. Screaming, Damiel writhed and squirmed in the heat of the flames, while Michael stayed cool. When the flames burned out, replaced by a golden light, Damiel’s skin turned a light bronze, as though an image had been superimposed over him. His features softened, hair returned to his head, his wings became feathery and light. This was who Damiel was. We were seeing his angelic self.

Then Damiel’s screams of pain turned to ones of anguish. His body shook as the grief consumed him, driving him to his knees. Underneath, the black being that he had become writhed in agony, but Michael held his ground, as though holding in place the image of who Damiel used to be.

“You can choose to be that again,” Michael offered. Beside him, Arielle stood impartial as a judge, her face a mask of calm scrutiny.

I sat up on the bed and closed my blouse, awed by the sight of them. The light shining from the two of them brought tears to my eyes. This was what Michael was, his purpose, and no matter how much I wanted him, my feelings couldn’t matter more than this. Nothing could.

The choice was Damiel’s now, as the demon part of him bucked and roiled like an angry tide. Yet there was another side of him that seemed at peace. As the demon stood again, these two halves seemed to battle each other in a struggle for dominance. The cabin’s small windows rattled, extinguishing candles from the force of it. Michael stood in the center of a beam of golden light, as though he were in the eye of a tornado.

“Has he chosen yet?” he asked Arielle.

She shook her head. “He’s without remorse.”

For some reason, Fatima’s reading from the day before came to me. I remembered her words in my head:
You have been given a gift of love, and for it you must love, beyond anything you’d ever imagined before.

Love. In order for Damiel to have remorse, he needed to feel love. I needed to remind him what it was. Michael wasn’t the only one who needed to remember. Damiel needed to remember, too. Realizing this, I connected with a force I’d never felt before. It filled me, thrumming through my body like a huge river that connected me to all of life.

Everything I’d ever done, every mistake I’d ever made was seen, and it was strange, like having your life flash before your eyes. I recalled the anger toward my dad, the judgment I sometimes had for no good reason, the secrets I kept from my friends, and even breaking up with Michael. All of it. In that moment, it had
all
been forgiven. I just had to accept that it was so, and I could do what I needed to do.

It wasn’t about me anymore. I remembered my past life with Michael: how I felt because he gave up so much to be with me, how I felt I betrayed him when I didn’t tell him what Damiel had done. A serene voice in my head told me to stop blaming myself, that it was never my fault—and I believed it. Taking a deep breath, I let this feeling in as tears welled in my chest.

Then I was on my feet, walking toward them like I was floating, held in a giant spotlight. Michael’s eyes widened as I approached, first with concern, then with awe.

“Mia,” he said. “What…”

I shook my head and Arielle touched his shoulder to silence him. She motioned to me with her eyes and I could hear her inner voice, the one she used for telepathy, say to him
Wait
.

I didn’t have time to process how strange it was to hear her. Instead, I walked until I stood between him and Damiel, and I grabbed the demon’s hand.