Beloved Purgatory (Fallen Angels, Book 2) (8 page)

Jasmine head butted me lightly on the
shoulder. "Forneus won't initiate anything with your mother."

"Are you sure? It was
getting pretty..."
Disgusting. Awful. No
words in existence can describe such a nightmare.
"It was a little intense in there."

She stepped back and wrapped her arm around
mine. "He won't do anything because I love you, and she is someone
you love. He can't do anything to people who are tied to you like
that."

Why would that stop him, and why would Oz
even believe such a thing? Unexpected 'ties' certainly didn't stop
him from almost killing me a few days ago.

My teeth rested on the tip of my tongue. I
couldn't bring myself to say it. Jasmine was trying so hard to
reassure me, and she believed what she said, even if I didn't.

Maybe it was best to lighten the mood. "I
guess I don't have to worry about the principal either, then."

Jasmine looked down. I looked down too. If I
hadn't, I would have missed her stepping on the toe of her Hush
Puppies. It appeared to be an innocent gesture, but it made my
blood pump so fast that my vision started to waver.

My arms shot forward. Jasmine frowned, but
she didn't stop me, not even when I changed our positions so she
was pushed against the locker and I was holding her.

"What is Forneus doing in there with the
principal?" I asked.

Someone had tagged the locker--J. C. Dollar,
I think it read--then punctuated that enigmatic comment with a
happy yellow and blue PLU sticker from a banana.

Jasmine turned her cheek, covering the tag.
"How should I know that?"

"He's
your
friend."

Jasmine laughed humorlessly. "If you use
that term loosely."

"Hey, you're the one who called him that," I
reminded her.

"Yeah, right after I shot him." Jasmine
raked a hand through her hair. It was a very Oz-like gesture, which
creeped me out--sort of like looking into the face of an old,
weathered fisherman and instead seeing a supermodel. "Fine, fine.
He's either making things more 'pleasant' for us, or he's making a
deal."

"What do you mean, making a deal?" I asked,
voice hard.

Jasmine sighed. "I mean, he's discovered
something the principal wants and is going to give it to him, if
the guy will pay his price."

My heartbeat escalated. Standing was quickly
becoming difficult. "You really think that could be going on?"

She clenched her jaw. "It's a
possibility."

My chest constricted. "What price is he
expected to pay?"

"His soul." She didn't flinch when she said
it. I would have expected that much. She also refused to look at
me.

This can't be
Jasmine
.
Jasmine
wouldn't be able to sit by while someone suffered. She'd feel
something
.
This
person doesn't.

Then, she opened her eyes. The green in them
looked like reflection of new growth on a black pond. In them I saw
the hesitance Jasmine refused to admit, reaching for me silently
like tiny ripples that died before hitting the shoreline.

The words she'd spoken
echoed through me.
His
soul
. I still didn't fully understand what
it was, but I knew I had one and nothing else. The idea of my
principal losing his soul made me sick.
"We
have to go in there and save him and--"

"What do you suggest we do? Burst in there
and say that he's a devil? They might not even be drawing up a
contract," Jasmine interrupted evenly.

"And what if they are?"

No answer. I stepped back, trying to pry her
fingers from my shoulder, but her grip and body remained rigid.
What was this? An attempt to frighten me?

"Your eyes betray you," I whispered. "You
hate this as much--no probably even more than I do, and yet you're
doing nothing."

Her fingers dug into my skin. For the first
time I could remember, the demon's touch hurt.

For some reason, I couldn't speak the word
Jasmine, or any of the demon's other names. "Right now, I feel like
I don't know you."

Her answer came softly. "Even if that is the
case, there is nothing I can do."

My upper lip curled. "That's not true. You
interfered when he was talking to me."

Her eyes began to glow--a dark, simmering
green. "That's only because it was you."

"That doesn't make sense. Just go in there
and take him away. Otherwise, the principal is going to get
involved with something that he doesn't understand."

"Devi, I can't."

"Yes you can--beat him up!
Hell,
shoot
him.
I've seen you do it."

Her hands held me in place. No, the tips
were like claws, now, and they pinched my skin. "I can't just do
that."

It sounded like she was begging for
something--probably for me to stop. I wouldn't. Even if this hurt
both of us, I needed to know.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't love him, and you don't
love him."

"So what?" My voice was really shaking. The
room, also, seemed to shake. "That doesn't mean you can't help
him."

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

The claws relaxed on my shoulders, but she
didn't remove them. I felt the sting of fabric brushing over broken
skin.

"There are some things I can't change, no
matter how much I want to." Her hands slipped from my shoulders to
my arms, and finally to my wrists. She held me, limply, as her
scaly, reptilian fingers transformed back into to human skin.

I didn't ask her again. I knew she wouldn't
answer. But there was someone else who might.

The angel locked his eyes on Jasmine's
hands, most likely waiting for the moment when they would turn into
claws again. I wondered how he determined the right time to
intervene--what was an appropriate amount of suffering, and at what
point did it go too far?

"Camael," I said.

The angel glanced up. If he thought it was
strange for me to address him by name, he didn't show it. But I
did.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Speaking his
name felt too intimate, as if I'd just whispered a painful secret
in his ear.

My throat felt try, and my voice sounded
raspy. "Why can't she interfere?"

Jasmine's fingers laced through mine.
"Stop."

I couldn't tell if that was directed at me
or the angel. The angel didn't care. "Most likely she can't act
because it would be a breach of contract."

My pulse spiked. "What--"

Jasmine spun, knocking my shoulder and
cutting me off. Her black hair whipped my cheek as I stumbled
forward. My palms hit the lockers, and--

Crash.

I flew back, stuffing my
fist in my mouth so I wouldn't scream. What
was
that? It couldn't have been me,
could it? Sure, I'd slammed into the lockers pretty hard, but it
shouldn't have sounded like I'd smashed into them with a truck. Any
moment now the entire school would be out here, wondering if a bomb
had gone off.

The doors remained shut. The halls empty and
silent, except for the untapped corner of an uninspired school
pride poster flapping beneath a vent.

And then I saw him.

I think the most disturbing thing about the
scene was how clean the angel was. His white shirt and pressed
jeans weren't wrinkled. No blood was on him--in fact, nothing that
would suggest a struggle tainted his body.

But there had been a struggle--or
something.

The lockers around Jasmine's body had been
crushed, as if a demigod had whacked them with a Jasmine-shaped
crowbar. She'd been slashed twice--once from her throat to her
stomach, and once more across her chest.

The scent of blood paralyzed me. Every time I
breathed, I tasted metal on the tip of my tongue.

The angel knelt before her. "You can't fight
me in that body."

Jasmine winced as she pulled on her flaps of
torn skin, waiting for it to knit itself back together. "Don't tell
her."

"Don't tell me what?" I didn't even bother
to hide my hysterical tone.

The angel didn't turn. He placed his hand on
the lockers. White light emanated from his fingers, and the metal
began to bend back to normal.

"Most demons have an employment contract
with a devil," he said. "The employees' duties vary, depending on
the conditions they decided upon at signing."

"Stop, please," Jasmine croaked. I wondered
why it was taking her so long to heal. Normally, she would be fine
by now. Maybe the angel was--

"If you think pleas from one such as
yourself would move me, then you are--"

"Stop, Camael," I whispered.

His hand tightened before removing if from
the lockers. He placed it on Jasmine's chest, and after a burst of
light the wound healed.

Jasmine rolled to her side on the floor,
coughing. Each time her chest heaved, she sprayed pink into the
air. It splattered on the floor--little drops of red, like dew.

The angel wiped it up with his hand, then
made a fist. When he opened it, it had already disappeared.

"Devi..." Jasmine was reaching out to me,
hands twitching as they grasped the air. Her eyes met mine,
begging, pleading.

I wanted to scream at her. How could she
have made a deal with Forneus? What kind of deal was it? And why
didn't she want me to know? But my lips felt numb. They couldn't
move--no part of me could.

Jasmine winced, and did not meet my eyes
again--almost as if something she saw in them physically wounded
her. "Why did you tell her?" She moaned.

"I will answer any question Devi asks,
unless I've been instructed not to."

Wait, what?
My knees popped as I rushed to the angel. "Who
gave you instructions?"

"I can't tell you that," he replied.

Great
. "So you'll only reveal the secrets others don't want to
tell? I can't say I'm upset that you told me, but it seems
cruel."

I looked at the demon. The coughing had
ceased. She could sit up, now, and her body had healed. But blood
still remained on her chin. I sat down beside her and wiped it.
Unlike the angel, my hands did not emerge clean.

Jasmine gazed up at me. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't," I cut her off. "You should have
said something."

"I didn't want to admit..." her voice
cracked. She turned her cheek. "I don't want you to stop loving
me."

Then don't keep things from
me
.

I couldn't say it.

Why not, Devi? Isn't that what love
is--knowing everything about the other person and accepting it?

"Come on." I grabbed her by the shoulders.
She wrapped her arms around my neck as I hauled her to her feet.
"You know, you're not as light as you look."

"Devi," she whispered.

A chill shot through me. She hadn't even
pretended to smile when I made that lame joke. Her eyes just
focused on me, unblinking, waiting for my answer.

I couldn't give her one. I didn't want to
hate her, or Oz. I didn't want things between us to change. It felt
like one of those things might have happened if I uncovered
whatever she'd tried so desperately to hide.

"I need to think," I said. "And we need to
stop Forneus."

She shook her head. "You don't understand
what you're saying."

I didn't stick around to listen to her try
to talk me out of it. The principal's office was so close. I could
probably get there in a few--

Jasmine caught my arm. The angel appeared
right in front of me.

Oh right. I was trying to outrun two
supernatural creatures.

"You can't stop me," I growled.

They both shared a pitying look.

Alright, that was kind of stupid. I needed a
new tactic. "Let me go!"

Jasmine didn't acknowledge my demand. "Did
you not hear a word I said?"

"I can't believe you'd stop me, especially
since you seem to hate the deal you made with him."

Her grip on me tightened. She opened her
mouth, but before she could respond the principal's door swung
open.

Forneus strode into the hallway. The
principal followed so closely that he almost tripped on the devil's
heels. For some reason, the scene reminded me of a baby duck
following its mother on its way to the pond for its first swim.

The principal patted his comb-over. "Thank
you, Forneus. I'm deeply touched by your dedication to
education."

Um, what?
Even Forneus seemed somewhat appalled by those
words, though he recovered quickly.

Then the principal saw Jasmine and me
playing tug-o-war with my arm. "Oh, girls. I didn't see you there.
Shouldn't you be in class?"

I couldn't think of a response. Luckily I
didn't have to.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Forneus
smirked. "Devi and Jasmine can show me around a bit on their way to
their next class, and we can begin to learn more about each
other."

"Why would we want to do that?" I blurted
out.

The principal balked at my harsh tone.
"Devi, I expected more from you."

Did he? Really? From the way he'd glared at
me in his office this morning, I doubted he believed I was below
doing anything.

"It's alright," Forneus chuckled. "Guidance
counselors are used to students putting up a front."

I froze.

Jasmine seemed as worried as I did. "What
are you talking about, uncle?"

The principal puffed up his chest. "Remember
how we agreed you should see a guidance counselor once a week?
Well, Forneus just happens to be a therapist! He will be a
brilliant addition to our faculty."

No. This wasn't happening.
It didn't make any sense. "Forneus is
not
a therapist. Besides, we already
have one."