03 Before The Devil Knows You're Dead-Speak Of The Devil (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

I opened a phase portal to my own living room, planning on grabbing a quick bite and maybe a change of clothes before heading back to the Double D, and did my best not to look back at my best friend. I tried not to be too glum about things, even though it was breaking my heart to walk away from her.

She was having a baby and she was happy about it. It was a good thing so I should be happy, too. Shouldn’t I?

Matt was lying on my couch, his shoes off. His eyes had deep bags underneath them and I could tell by the lines cutting into his face that he was exhausted. “Faith.” He sat up as I stepped through the phase portal and then let it close behind me.

“Hey.” I sighed feeling like the world’s biggest loser. “You’re back. Where’s Mal?”

“He’s in LA, negotiating with the former Angel of Death,” Matt said. I skirted around the couch to sit on the coffee table, our knees not quite touching.

“Negotiating? What do you mean negotiating?”

“The guy doesn’t want the job back.” He lifted his hand and froze, halfway to grabbing my hand.

“I didn’t think he would. So what are they negotiating?”

“Mal.” He ran his hand up over his face. “Mal thinks he can get the guy to change his mind but I don’t see it. The guy was so desperate to get rid of us that he tried to lie to us about who he was. When he saw Malachi, he was pissing himself in fear. He was begging us not to make him go back. He pleaded, offered us bribes. Anything to keep from being held down and forced to take your powers back over.”

“Jesus,” I said. “The poor guy.”

“He has an iron-clad agreement from your uncle, promising him that he never has to set foot in any Celestial realm ever again. He is willing to stay out of Heaven so he can hide.”

“That’s pretty extreme.”

“He reminded me of this law professor I’d had in college. The guy had been stuck inside a gas station as a hostage during a robbery. He developed PTSD and the slightest noise would freak him out. It was like he couldn’t handle the sound of a pen hitting the floor because it might wake him up from real life and he’d find himself back in that gas station.”

“That was what the original Angel of Death was like?” A shiver went through me as I tried to wrap my mind around the thought that I could end up the same way. Trapped, scared, locked inside my own mind, and afraid to even touch Celestial power in case I was drawn back into a world I couldn’t understand.

“He was worse,” Matt said, “and Mal wouldn’t let up on him, kept hammering him, trying to find some way to get him to come back here and save you. Riches, power, beautiful women, and meanwhile, the Angel of Death is offering him the same things right back to keep from having to come in.”

“So what happened?”

“Mal finally realized that he wasn’t going to get anywhere playing nice, so he sent me home. Now he’s trying to negotiate some way for the Angel to come here and mentor you on how to control your powers.”

“Do you think he’s going to get anywhere?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go order takeout and talk about it? You can tell me what I missed while I was in California.”

“I can’t.” I smiled, the corners of my mouth trembling. “I have work to do.”

“Work?”

“Back at the old Department of Death. I want to keep up with things until we get this worked out and someone else takes my powers. Or, if that doesn’t happen, I don’t want to fall behind. Personally, I’d like to arrange a few death-free holidays and to do that we’ve got to keep up on things.”

“Death-free holidays? Are those like the tax-free days they have when kids are getting ready to go back to school?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“That’s what I’m going for—same principle, different commodity.” I shrugged. “I was thinking Christmas Day, Easter, and possibly Arbor Day.”

“Arbor Day?” He sounded surprised.

“Why not? We all need some reason to celebrate Arbor Day and I was thinking maybe a day without death would do it. Yay, trees! Yay, not dying! It’s catchy.”

“You could always go with Veteran’s Day,” he suggested. “It seems fitting somehow.”

“It does. I’ll have to ask Aurelia if we can manage four death-free days per year.”

“Aurelia?”

“My assistant. Well, I say assistant, she’s basically running the place while I stand there and nod like an idiot.”

“Maybe they should promote her, then?”

“Nah, she seems nice. I wouldn’t wish this on someone nice. Anyway, I need to get back to work. What do you say about meeting up later for a pizza?”

“Pepperoni and Steel City Beer? Say seven?”

“Sound’s perfect.”

“It’s a date then. While you’re at work I’ll run out to the compound to check on things there and we can meet back up here tonight.”

I stood up and opened another phase portal, this one back to Purgatory, and stepped through it, not looking back at the nephilim on the other side watching me walk away from him. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“I’ll see you at seven,” he agreed. I let the phase portal go, allowing it to start closing, and didn’t turn around. “I love you.”

My breath caught in my chest and I had to close my eyes, steeling myself not to turn around and do something stupid like kiss him. The phase portal behind me closed with a small pop and I swallowed down the softball-sized lump in my throat. “I love you, too.”

“Your Majesty?” Aurelia asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I smiled weakly. “I wanted to come back and do some paperwork.”

“Come here.” She held her arms out to me.

“I’m fine.”

“Come here,” she said, more sternly this time, and instead of arguing I stepped into her hug. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“This job sucks and there’s a very good chance that I’m not going to be able to pass it off to someone else.”

“I know, but if you can’t pass it off to someone else, then you’ll learn how to live with it.”

“How?”

“The same way we all do,” Aurelia said. “You’ll learn to be happy with what you have, no matter how small it is.”

“Easy for you to say, you chose this job.”

“Says who?” Aurelia let go of me and pulled back to give me a small smile.

“You mean you didn’t choose this job? Seriously? I thought you would have jumped at the chance to be Purgatory’s most fierce personal assistant.”

“I was a cherub.”

“What?”

“Before I was your admin, I was a cherub,” Aurelia said and then moved over to sit behind my desk. “I was a cherub in the choir and I stepped out of place, so your uncle banished me here to punish me for it.”

“What did you do?” I sat in the chair across from her and took her hands in mine, trying to comfort her.

“I fell in love with someone I couldn’t have. I reached too high and when I fell I landed here.”

“Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter. There was nothing he could do to save me when the time came. Not that he would have tried. He knew, you see. He’d warned me that some things couldn’t be and we were one of those things.”

I swallowed. It was similar to what I’d told Matt. Life had put a giant wall between us and every time we tried to climb that wall something bad happened. Maybe we were never meant to be? Maybe his crazy, homicidal family and my whole death-at-a-touch thing were just giant cosmic hazard signs? Bridge out. Turn around and go back. Death and destruction lie this way?

“So now, the one I love is doing his duty and I am doing mine. No matter how much it sucks.”

“Whoever he was, he didn’t deserve you. Anyway, enough sad stuff, I was wondering how you felt about trees.”

“Trees are nice, I guess. Why?”

“What about theme days?”

“What about them?”

“What do you say we make every Thursday cowboy day and make the angels dress up as cowboys? Well, okay, maybe just the Archangel Michael.”

“I think we could get away with it once before he beats us both unconscious with his wings. Now, go back to the trees. What did you have in mind for them?”

Chapter Twelve

“You may be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever been privy to seeing,” Michael announced five hours later, as I sat moping on my couch, nursing the last beer in my fridge, and waiting for Matt to get back, his voice icy, with our pizza and another six-pack.

“What in the name of Magdalene?” I put my beer down on the side table and pushed myself up so that I wasn’t slouched in the cushions of my couch.

When Michael slowly materialized, I grabbed my beer and took another swig. We weren’t going to argue about the Angel of Death gig again, were we? Really? Again? It was bad enough that I had to do the job. What made him think I wanted to put up with some annoying little brat constantly complaining that I’d stolen his promotion?

“Sorry.” He shook his head when he fully materialized, and he grimaced, his nose curling up in disgust.

“For what?” I asked.

“I would have waited until you were alone for the night, but I got the impression that might be some time from now and I couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of the nephilim so that we could have some time together. He is rather clingy if you think about it. Doesn’t it get boring? Spending time with the same person? Isn’t it dull?”

“Dull?” I asked. “Mike, have you ever spent time on the mortal realm? I mean beyond collecting souls and all that? Have you ever spent like real time living as a human?”

He straightened up like he was insulted and narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ll have you know that I was part of your cousin’s entourage.”

“Right, have you been back since? Maybe as something other than an abstinent apostle?”

“I did some time as a monk in Florence during the Renaissance. The music was absolutely lovely. Nothing like what you hear on the radio these days, not to mention the art. It was the last time I could really understand what the mortals were struggling for in their paltry little lives.”

“So minor apostle and monk? Yeah, I can see where relationships confuse you. Not to sound all boss-like and stuff, but how much vacation time do you have saved up? We might have to get you out of the office and into spring break in Cozumel.”

“I’ll pass.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Some of us, not you obviously, can be perfectly happy without indulging our more primitive urges. We have higher pursuits to occupy our mind.”

“Sure.” I pursed my lips and nodded, way too curious for what was probably my own good about how else Michael was going to justify his total prudishness. “So, I’m guessing you’re not here to fill me in on your end of day report. Are you?”

“End of the day report? Never mind. I don’t want to understand how your feeble mind works.”

“Hey! You seem to have forgotten that I’m your boss. If you don’t want to find yourself on nursing home duty, I’d watch that tone, mister. It’s not like I asked for this posting but that doesn’t give you the right to disrespect—”

“That’s why I’m here again. Asking for a second time. Begging even. Be reasonable and give me your job.”

“What?” My jaw fell open. “I thought we’d discussed this last night. No.”

“Give me the job, Faith. Look, it makes perfect sense. You don’t want the job. Think about how miserable you feel right now. You’re drinking and debating a good cry and you’ve only done the job for one day.”

“I’ll adjust.”

“Not to mention the fact that you’re completely unqualified for the post. So why should you get buried under a job that you’re not going to be successful in and are going to be miserable performing?”

“Because—”

“Think about it,” Michael said, not letting me get my protest out. “If you give me your powers, then you’ll give over the Touch of Death at the same time. It’s part and parcel. Then you can go back to a job that you are good at.”

“No, I can’t give this job up. I won’t—”

“You’re an amazing nurse. Think about how many patients that you’ve managed to help save. Your hospital has half the death rate that it did before you started on your unit and that’s not even counting the last minute pinch hits you’ve pulled off. Why shouldn’t you be doing that? You have a natural talent for preserving life. Why take a job that requires you to take it instead?”

“Well…” I bit my lower lip.

“You didn’t sign up for this Faith but—I did. I signed up to be a reaper. I understand why mortals have to die. I believe in the mission that the reapers have been tasked with and I want to serve. I want to help mortals reach Paradise and find grace.”

“Right.” I nodded. “What I don’t get is this—if you wanted the position so bad, why are you only a senior reaper? Why didn’t the Alpha give you the job centuries ago?”

“They don’t get it. The Alpha and the Omega are stuck in this backward, shortsighted way of thinking.” Michael argued, his hands waving in front of him as he started to pace. “They keep thinking that this is a punishment that has to be endured, that the role of Angel of Death is a burden.”

“Um,” I pulled back from him slightly. “It is. A burden Hello? Accidentally killing the guy on the bus when he touches your hand is a bad thing.”

“I don’t take the bus,” Michael said, “and I don’t like to touch mortals anyway, so there are no worries that I’m going to miss it.”

“Mike.”

“I never touch people. Not once have I touched someone without having an order mandating it.”

“Never? Not even once?”

“I’m a reaper. I touch a person and I see how they die. Even if it’s fifty years from now and they’re dying in bed surrounded by their kids and their grandkids and they’re perfectly happy to go, I see it.”

“What?”

“That’s my talent. I know how people die. So I don’t touch. I don’t want to touch. So your job? It’s not a problem for me.”

“It’s not just the not touching…” I said, feeling my resolve weakening. I knew I should tell him no but he wanted the job and I didn’t and if he was telling the truth, then the no-touching thing wouldn’t be a problem for him.

But I couldn’t. Mike was—evil. Valentin had been right. Anyone who wanted this kind of power shouldn’t have it. And Mike definitely wanted it. That’s what made it such a bad idea. A tempting idea but still a bad one. That didn’t mean I couldn’t be diplomatic about it. Wasn’t that what management was all about? Diplomacy?

“I don’t think my father and my uncle would agree to transfer my powers to you,” I said. There, the first rule of diplomacy—blame someone else.

“I don’t need them to transfer the powers,” Michael protested. “I can do it. I’ve seen twenty-three reaper transfers and assisted the Alpha and the Omega in eleven of them, mainly by holding the recipient of the powers in position so that they didn’t accidentally damage themselves or someone else during the process, but I’ve had firsthand experience. I know what I’m doing.”

“So let me get this straight? You not only want to take my crappy job, you know how to do the transfer all on your own? And you’re just willing to help me out?”

“Yeah.” Michael nodded. “So what do you say?”

“I say that it’s too easy.” I stalled. So much for diplomacy. “What you’re offering me is too easy of a solution.”

“Faith.” He moved closer, growing as he went so that he loomed.

“My dad’s the devil, Mike, the Devil, the Prince of Darkness, evil incarnate. I know a too good to be true deal when I see one.”

“I can do this. I can do the transfer. Let me prove it to you. Give me your powers.”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Why? Why not give me the powers you so obviously don’t want?”

“Because Valentin was right, Mikey.” I stood up and stepped toward him so that we were nose to nose and let my power crackle down the length of my arms, a very clear sign for him to back off already. “This is a job that should never be given to someone who actually wants it. It’s a burden, and it needs to be treated that way.”

“It’s not a burden, you insufferable twerp,” he said. “You don’t see it for the blessing that it is. Think how powerful you would be.”

“That, right there, is why I can’t give you my powers, no matter how much I want to be rid of them. The ability to steal someone’s life isn’t a blessing, it’s a curse. The worst curse that anyone could be forced to endure. If you can’t see that, then you’re more of a monster than I could ever be, no matter what the religious would have you believe.”

“Give them to me.” Mike snatched my hand up in an iron-hard grip, and it was like touching a live wire while being set on fire and beaten with an electrical cord all at the same time. My feet cramped as my toes tried to touch my heels and the muscles in my legs bunched against the onslaught of power, retreating by going into the fetal position to save themselves—and that was the most courageous of my bodily responses. My stomach was trying to violently expel anything I may have ever eaten, my lungs burned, and my heart was beating so hard I was afraid it might actually explode.

When I tried to jerk my arm away he tightened his hold and the world around me flashed a blindingly bright white as my brain tried to escape the pain by forcibly exiting my skull like it was ejecting from a crashing airplane.

I could hear myself screeching in pain, more of a wounded howl than a real scream, and Mike was laughing, sounding like some sort of insane adrenaline junkie on the high of his life. “Just a few more seconds,” he cackled and my skin began to blister from the heat of his touch. “Just hold on for a few more seconds.”

A few more seconds, sure. What was a few more seconds when you’re being pulled apart and flayed alive by a madman trying to steal your powers? The light grew brighter around me and then exploded, the world going blessedly silent as darkness rushed up to grab me, sucking me under.

Instinctively, I knew that the jolt I felt was my body hitting the floor, closer to unconscious than conscious, but I couldn’t really understand how I’d gone from standing upright to lying on my back in the middle of the living room floor. I also wasn’t exactly sure why I could see myself lying on the floor while I hovered somewhere near the ceiling. That couldn’t be good. Did my hair really look that frizzy?

I watched from my super-secret hiding place as Michael let go of my hand and straightened, cracking his neck like some sort of heavyweight boxer getting ready to step into the ring.

He held his hands in front of him, shoulder-width apart, and blue power crackled between his hands, arcing like electricity between the two poles on Frankenstein’s head. He threw his head back and laughed like a kid who’d just realized the mayhem he could do to the ants in the backyard with his new magnifying glass. Oh damn, forget my hair, this was definitely not good.

He leaned down again and grabbed my wrist, checking for a pulse. His shoulders slumped slightly and I wasn’t sure if it was because I had a pulse or because I didn’t.

Honestly, right then I didn’t want to think about it too much. The destruction of my physical body meant spending the rest of eternity in Hell, or trying to find some other form that fit right and didn’t bunch in all the wrong places and that idea sucked more and more as the seconds ticked by.

Damn it, I should have known that stupid angel was trouble from the moment I clapped eyes on him. What had I been thinking to let him get that close?

“You’re going to feel like you’ve been trampled by all four horses of the Apocalypse when you wake up,” Michael said as he let my wrist drop. “If you wake up. But I did try to do this nicely Faith. You just wouldn’t let me. I’m sick of waiting, it’s my time now. My chance to show you how this world and these humans should be managed.”

“Hey!” I tried to push against the ceiling to shoot myself downward so that I could smite him upside the back of his head but it didn’t help. My hand sort of floated through where the roof should have been and I stayed put, trapped on the ceiling like an abandoned balloon.

Michael nudged my body with his toes and my body rolled to one side with my head tilted downward to the floor. Great, I was currently out of body, without my powers and possibly in the process of losing my mortal body and being relegated to Hell, but at least I wouldn’t choke on my own vomit. “So begins the death of the old gods.”

“Oh, you jerk,” I said as he started to fade. “When Matt gets back and they figure out how to revive me I’m going to be so pissed off at you. We are talking full postal, Michael. I mean it. Get back here and wake me up already. Or I’m going to pluck your feathers one by one and then I’m going to beat the holy out of you. I’m serious. Get back here!”

Instead of answering, he continued to fade out of existence, not even bothering to look back at where he’d left my stupid body in the middle of the floor. The creep. I was going to make him pay for this. Just as soon as I got back in that body and woke up I was going to make him pay.

I heard a muffled thump and looked up from my body to stare at the door. “Hey, Faith! Get the door. My hands are full,” Matt called. My heart started to beat a little harder. Or at least I thought it was beating harder. It could have been a psychosomatic response of what my internal organs should have been doing, though—the undead version of ghost tingles from an amputated limb.

“Come on,” Matt yelled through the door. “These pizzas are hot.”

“I can’t,” I said and my voice cracked. I was pretty sure he couldn’t hear me and I didn’t want to admit how badly that scared me. Shouldn’t he have been able to hear me no matter what?

The door creaked open and he bent over, retrieving the pizzas from where he’d set them to open the door. “Next time you can come with me, if you’re going to be a pain about it,” he said as he nudged the door shut. He looked as if he was about to say something smart-assed but whatever it was died on his lips when he spotted my body in the middle of his floor.

“Faith?” He raced toward me and I had to admit I was a little impressed. I knew the guy was in shape but I hadn’t expected him to be able to make it across a room and jump a coffee table quite that quickly. “Faith!”

“I’m here.” I said as he leaned down over my face—completely unconcerned about the life-ending curse that should have been residing inside me—checking to see if I was breathing before he grabbed my wrist to check for a pulse. “I somehow got separated from my body but I think I’m okay.”