Beloved Purgatory (Fallen Angels, Book 2) (11 page)

I rolled on my side and replied unconsciously: "It
sounds pretty."

I realized my mistake as soon as those words left my
lips, but Oz didn't look upset--just a little vulnerable. And
lonely. "It is pretty, sometimes, but it never stops. That light
follows you everywhere and blinds you to everything--even,
sometimes, those things which are more beautiful, just not as
bright."

He glanced down. "Sorry." The corner of his lip was
upturned when he said it, and he tapped his pocket with his right
hand.

Forneus' necklace was in there.
Stop looking
,
I told myself. I couldn't. Inside that necklace was the image of a
spirit. Wearing it gave me the veneer of something I did not
possess, but would have if God hadn't interfered with my birth.

Whatever remained of the bliss I'd felt when he
touched me dissipated. I felt hollow, incomplete. Even if I found
my other half, I think I'd still feel separate and alone, because I
still didn't know if Oz only loved me because I lacked a
spirit.

My heartbeat escalated. I'd lain beside a demon.
Kissed him, even. And not once had I thought of Kai.

"Oz, how are we going to find my brother?" I
stammered, as if urgency could banish my guilt.

He ran a finger down the side of my face. It didn't
seem to bother him that I'd brought up my brother while we'd been
kissing this time, thankfully. "We will find him."

His voice was low and meant to soothe. I wished it
would erase the worries that coiled round my heart. "How? He's in
Heaven, isn't he? I can't go there, and doubt you could either. So
how are we supposed to find him?"

He turned away. "There are ways."

My hands clutched the sheets. He hadn't corrected me
and said he could go to Heaven. What other option was there? "What
ways are those, Oz?"

I saw a flash of unearthly green. "You don't need to
worry about it."

"So I shouldn't worry about myself, or my brother, or
you." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "You do realize
that's basically everyone I love, right? You're mean for asking
that of me. If I can't protect those things, then what is my love
worth?"

"It's not your job to protect everyone."

"Why? Because you don't think I can?"

He flinched. He could sense my anger, I think. In all
honesty he'd have to be a fool not to. My eyes stung. My lungs
ached with every breath they drew in. My nails bit into my
palms.

"Devi, I didn't mean it like that. You're
wonderful--"

"No, I'm not," I interrupted softly. He didn't get
it. "I wish I had powers like you."

"No you don't."

He crouched down and put his hands on the edge of the
bed. They looked gentle, and they inched towards me. He was waiting
for me to reach out for him, I think. I didn't.

"How do you know what I want? You can heal the people
you love. You can protect them. I can't make anyone do anything. I
just...fall."

His fingertips brushed mine. It tickled, and I sucked
in a breath.

"You don't know what it means to Fall, Devi--to
realize the distance between yourself and the things you love, and
to realize that any expression of that love will be tainted by
violence. No matter how much I've helped you, I fear that in the
end I will hurt you more."

I grabbed him. "That isn't true. You've saved
me."

His hand shook, and then he gripped me so hard it
felt like I was being crushed. I grit my teeth but didn't allow
myself to wince. I didn't want him to know he was holding me too
tight. "It scares you when I protect you--when I become Azazel.
Sometimes I think that a small part of you begins to hate me as
well."

My head shook. Why did my pulse spike when he said
those words? "No."

"It's alright to admit it," he said. "Violence strips
someone of their voice and their ability to determine their own
fate. It's disgusting, and you're right to hate it. Doing something
like that--"

He let go of my throbbing hand. "I'm afraid that
someday you'll look at me and only see that thing I must become in
order to protect you. I'm afraid, sometimes, that's who I truly
am."

I rubbed my sore fingers. They ached from the cool
air, and from my own touch. "You're not a monster, Oz."

His green eyes didn't quite meet mine. "Why? Because
I don't look like one right now?"

He didn't get it. I wanted to be closer to him. I
didn't want him to sacrifice anything more for me. "If protecting
the things you love means becoming a monster, then I want to be a
monster, too."

"Even if that was possible and what you wanted, I
wouldn't let you."

I glared at him. He's trying to be nice and do the
right thing, I repeated, but it didn't matter. On a deep,
fundamental level, it bothered me that he would act based purely on
what he thought was best and without consulting me. "You're making
decisions for me and taking away my choice. You said you hated
doing that."

"I'm a demon, Devi. It's not in my nature to fight
honorably, even if I'm fighting for you."

God! Were those words supposed to be romantic? I was
so...so... I pounded a fist into my forehead and started to
laugh.

"Hey," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just so mad at you." I hiccupped as I tried to
suppress a giggle. Could I possibly be less intimidating? No, I
couldn't. So I figured I'd complete the picture by pouting.

Oz gulped, looking really guilty. "I will find him.
Maybe it's selfish of me to ask you to wait a little longer since
you've already waited so long, but please don't push this. I don't
want to make rash, dangerous decisions and, well, there is also
another reason." He ran his fingers through my hair. "I don't want
to lose these moments with you."

"Why do you think you're going to lose them?" I
couldn't stop my voice from rising. "Are you going to do something
stupid without telling me? That isn't okay. I don't want to see you
hurt, or for you to ever feel pain again--"

"Stop. It's not like that for me, and it never will
be."

I couldn't make sense of what he said, but I didn't
say anything more. He grabbed my wrists, and my pulse beat
frantically against his palms. I knew he could feel it--my
anticipation, my longing--and I knew he could see it in my face as
I looked up at him, wishing we could sink into each other until we
forgot all else.

His lips parted above mine. He licked them, then
leaned back.

The room grew dim--a cloud moving overhead, perhaps,
or maybe the fog grew thicker. Strangled sunbeams seeped through
the yellowing drapes and cast the room in gold.

"Don't go," I whispered.

"I won't leave you," he said. "I don't even think I'm
capable of doing that at this point. And no, I don't want to think
about the consequences of that right now."

Neither did I.

Oz leaned forward, parted his lips, and from them
erupted the loudest, most shrill whining I'd ever heard.

What was that? How could he make such a sound? I knew
he was a demon, but there had to be limits to his powers,
right?

He groaned and slumped forward. "Oh Princess," he
muttered.

Right. Princess.
She
was the one howling like
a PMSing banshee, and thank God for that. Oz making that sound
might have been a little too much for me to take.

"She's a pretty thorough chaperone, don't you think?
Can't believe she had the nerve to interrupt..." He gave my hand a
gentlemanly kiss. "...
You know
."

My cheeks burned. "I can believe Princess' nerve, I
just can't believe yours."

He frowned. "What?"

"You said 'you know' again in that mildly suggestive
way. It wouldn't surprise me if you didn't even know what you were
talking about."

He gave me a rakish grin. "I have a pretty good idea.
Do you want me to show you?"

"Maybe, but that isn't the point." I bit my lip. "We
need to stop this habit. The next one who says 'you know' has to do
something for the other person, and they can't say no."

He didn't even pause. "Done."

My eyes narrowed. What made him so certain he could
beat me on this? But before I could ask him, the door started to
rumble as Princess attacked it with her claws.

"Um, should we check on her?"

"Oh, she just wants to go for a walk," Oz
mumbled.

"What?"

My lips curled up as hysteria bubbled up inside me.
"Like, around downtown Portland around town?"

"Around Old Town. The Park Blocks. Sometimes we
venture into the Pearl. She's a classy kitty." He gave me a
lopsided grin. "Want to see her strut her stuff?"

Chapter 6

Oz set Princess down on the chipped
honeycomb tiles outside
Morrison's
. So far she seemed pretty
happy--I could hear her purring over the cement truck down the
street.

Princess waddled forward and rubbed her cheek against
one of the 35 cent racks. A book fell to the ground. It had a
weathered cowboy sitting atop a horse with inflamed, flaring
nostrils on the cover. She sure had interesting taste.

"Impressive," I commented.

My sarcasm was lost on him. "I know, isn't she
adorable?"

I shook my head. Alright, watching a cat's tail
tickle the heaving bosoms of ladies caught in passionate embraces
was pretty funny. And I liked how she kept biting the red leash. In
fact, the entire scene would have been pretty perfect had it not
been for one thing--the incandescent guy in the corner.

I tried not to notice him, which was difficult since
he'd started glowing the moment I walked out the door.

"Devi," the angel whispered.

My ears rang. God, I hated the devotional tone of his
voice. It belonged in a perfumed, lush garden, with cherub
fountains and peacocks strolling around, not in some dark,
crumbling corner in the heart of a city.

I glared at the ground.

I couldn't see his shadow move across the black and
white tiles, but I knew he was coming closer. Soon, the black toes
of his nondescript boots were inches from mine, and I could see his
delicate fingers resting on his jeans, almost close enough to
touch.

I backed up. "Come on Princess, let's go."

She bolted.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. She's
gonna whack the angel
. "Princess!" I yelped
as I fell to my knees, making the universal hand-signal for stop
with both hands.

She let out an excited meow, as if I were wiggling my
fingers to get her to come over for pets, and leaped into the
air.

It happened too quickly. I couldn't
react, just watch in fear as I saw her race right towards the
angel's feet.
Princess, if you keep that up
you're going to get tangled up in the angel's ankles, and then I
might have to actually touch him to get you out!

And then Princess soared right through him, as if he
wasn't there.

I was too stunned to move, even when she began
licking my fingers, silently demanding those pets she'd thought I'd
promised. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so startled. I'd seen
people move through the angel before. But I'd thought, for some
reason, this would be different.

Princess waved her tail in my face. I collected
myself and scratched her under her chin. "What just happened?"

"She can't see him," Oz said.

"Just like how no one can see him," I whispered.

Oz sighed. "Not exactly."

I glanced up at his face. His green eyes seemed to
be tinged with...pity. No, it couldn't be. Oz hated angels. But his
gaze had looked misty, and distant, and so tender that my heart
trembled.

"She wouldn't be able to see him even if he revealed
himself to everyone in this city," Oz continued softly, "because
animals can't see angels."

My attention turned to Camael. He didn't look
different. The sun hit the bottom half of his face. Though he cast
no shadow on the ground, I could see thin, wispy shadows of his
hair on his cheeks. They looked like the shadows of puppet strings
awkwardly moving about on a white stage.

The cat circled through his legs again. He didn't
appear too long to touch her, or to need her to recognize him. How
could he stand to live in a world that was not even aware of his
existence? Where he was made to watch but disallowed to feel--where
everything thrived with life and change except for him?

Princess raised her puffy chin and chirped.

Oz slapped his thighs. "She makes that sound when
she's seen a bird. It's time to stalk pigeons."

He offered me his hand. I grabbed it and stood. "Uh,
stalk pigeons?"

Oz shrugged. "She's a cat."

Princess squinted and made another chirping
sound--the same sweet sound she probably made before ripping into
her unsuspecting victim. I suppressed a chill as her little pink
tongue flicked over her canines. It was so wrong how cute cats
could look while they schemed to do violent, horrible things.

"Don't worry," Oz whispered. "She sucks at hunting.
All the treats I've given her have made her complacent and
fat."

"That's a pretty demonic plan," I murmured.

He grinned, and Princess, tired of waiting, began to
walk down the street.

We got half a block before she stopped to sniff a
tree for five minutes. "Is this that amazing part you were telling
me about?" I asked as she started to circle the trunk.

Oz chased after her so the leash wouldn't get
tangled. "One of them."

Princess then sat down on a grate, looked up at us,
and meowed.

"What do you want now, sweetheart?" Oz cooed.

Meow.

"I think she wants to sit there and watch you fawn
over her," I said.

"Well, that is her favorite thing to do. Actually,
make that her second favorite thing--right behind watching me clean
out the litter box."