Fallen Angels 05 - Possession (58 page)

So it was him.

Fine. She would wait out here.

The second-story sitting area had an arrangement similar to the one in the parlor, sofas and love seats placed with care around an Oriental rug, little side tables supporting lamps and small objects made of stone as well as coasters for drinks consumed long, long ago.

Funny, her grandmother had had a collection of those carved rocks, too. Sissy had particularly liked the ones that were cut and polished to be fruit—green grapes made of jade, purple ones made of amethyst, apples and pears from various shades of quartz.

As the shower droned on, the grandfather clock eventually got over itself and fell silent, and she got bored with pacing around, so she sat down in the far corner.

Not long thereafter, the water cut off.

And Jim came out into the light with nothing but a towel on.

Surging to her feet, she went to say his name—

Something stopped her. Well, actually, it was him: He looked absolutely hollowed out, a shell of the man she knew, and yet that wasn’t it. No … there was something else—

His mouth was swollen, but not like he’d gotten punched. Just red and puffy. And there were scratches on his bare chest and his arms.

Made by fingernails.

And he wasn’t just exhausted; he was spent.

Sissy didn’t know a lot about sex—well, the mechanics, sure, but it wasn’t like she’d personally gone much past second base or anything. And it hadn’t been because she was a prude. She’d just never found a boy who seemed worth the risks of pregnancy—had never been so flipping turned on that she’d let booze or romantic delusions go to her head.

She knew enough, though, to be one hundred percent sure that that man had spent most of the night having had it.

And the confirmation? Not that she needed it?

As he walked on to his room, he flashed his back: Which was covered in a shockly huge black-and-white tattoo of the Grim Reaper. And there were scratches on both the ink and the flesh, as if someone had been hanging on to him as he—

“Are you kidding me,” she demanded.

He stopped dead in his tracks. But instead of turning around, he just dropped his head, as if he were too tired to hold it up anymore.

“I thought you were supposed to be fighting the war.” She went over to him, getting right in front of his well-used body. “But that’s not what you did all night, was it.”

“Sissy … you don’t understand.”

“Oh, please, like you’re going to hit me with another ‘Stay out of it, this is all toooooo complicated for you, little girl’? Do you honestly think I don’t know what the walk of shame looks like? Christ, I saw it all the time in my dorm. I just never thought I’d associate it with you.”

He pushed a hand through his wet hair and finally met her in the eye. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Okay, great. So I guess Adrian and I’ll just go find the soul—”

“We lost the round, okay? We lost.”

Sissy stopped breathing for a moment. Then that anger deep inside of her flared. “Because you were fucking around with some woman, right?”

“As a matter of fact … that’s exactly the case.”

“Some savior you are. God, you’re
pathetic
, you know that.”

As Sissy pivoted on her heel, Jim watched her walk off. It was probably for the best. No, definitely for the best.

She was right; he had spent the night fucking. And when the round concluded itself? He’d been with Devina when she’d gotten the signal. Naturally, she’d insisted he come down to Hell with her to get her flag, and he’d gone because, once again, the only virtue she had was that she couldn’t be in two places at once.

As long as she was with him? She wasn’t with Sissy and Adrian and Eddie.

And with the way things were right now, that was the best he could hope for … the only thing he could expect to go his way.

So he’d sat down there and witnessed the soul arrive, a black shadow streaming the length of the well, entering the viscous wall, a fresh scream pealing out as the damned realized that death had not freed him at all.

In fact, he was trapped forever. Tortured forever. Not life everlasting … more like life never-ending.

And then he’d watched as Devina had taken a guitar string, a gold earring shaped like a shell, and an old Rolex watch out of her pocket.

“Just more to add to my collection,” she’d said with a self-satisfied smile.

After that? No more reason to stay. And even the demon had been yawning like she’d needed some rest…

The slam of Sissy’s door went through Jim like a bolt of lightning, his legs nearly going out from under him. The weakness wasn’t simply because he was physically exhausted. Spiritually, he was coming to realize, he was dying inside.

If Devina was a parasite, as Eddie had said, and she entered through a wound in the soul … he knew he was making the infection in him worse every time he saw her, anytime he was with her. But even knowing that, he would have done no differently tonight.

Sacrifices were to be made. Had to be.

For some reason, he thought of the night he had spent sitting outside of Sissy’s room like a dog.

That was the closest he was ever going to be to her.

And that hurt more than anything else.

Shutting himself in his room, he went over and got in his bed. The lights were off, and even though the daylight was coming soon, the room was dark because of the velvet drapes that were thick enough to keep a vampire safe from even July sunlight.

Within hours the cycle of the war would start again, another soul ready to be conquered or lost. And assuming the Maker didn’t come and recruit him into Nigel’s vacated seat at the tea table, Jim was now down one, the momentum of the war having shifted dramatically in the opposite direction.

Somehow, by some miracle, he needed to find the strength to fight again, at least until he learned whether Devina had spoken the truth … or had lied as usual.

He had no idea where the focus and drive were going to come from.

His tank was truly empty.

So maybe Devina was, for once, right. For the first time in his life, he saw the value of quitting. He sure as shit wasn’t doing anyone any good with the way things stood now.

Closing his eyes, he let his body take over, the need for sleep canceling everything out, erasing even the fact that Sissy was pissed off down the hall, and Adrian was somewhere in the house no doubt aching from the sacrifices he himself had made, and Eddie was still lying in state, smelling as beautiful as a spring meadow.

He was a blank slate as he was claimed by a black void, his last conscious thought that he knew why Nigel had done what he had.

And he didn’t blame the archangel one bit.

“Okay, I think that’s all I need.”

As Detective de la Cruz, the one Cait had met outside the Palace Theatre, closed his little booklet, Cait winced and went to rub her eyes.

“Ow.” Yeah, not touching much of her puss would be a good idea. If she remembered correctly, she had a dozen stitches in it.

“Can I get the nurse for you?” the man asked, concern on his tired face.

“No, I’m fine.” She pulled the white hospital sheets up higher on herself. “Just have to remember not to…”

Make any contact with anything on her body, whatsoever.

He gently touched her shoulder, being careful not to get in the way of her IV. “I’m going to put in my report that it was justifiable homicide, Ms. Douglass. I don’t think this incident is going to go to a grand jury, I really don’t. The D.A. and I have worked together for a long time and there’s a lot of trust between us. If you hadn’t killed him, he’d have finished the attack on you. Guaranteed.”

“Thank you, Detective. I’ve never … I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

“You survived. And you’re going to get through this. It’s going to take time, but … you’ll come out of it.”

She could feel tears coming again, but God, she’d cried enough for ten years. “Thanks.”

“Call me if there’s anything I can do for you, okay? And I’ll e-mail you a list of counselors that have experience with this stuff. They can really help on the flipside. Trust me.”

He smiled at her, and then walked out, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Turning her head to the window across her private room, she stared at the gathering sun, and listened to the beeping behind her, and the hushed voices at the nursing station outside, and the bustle in the hall of people coming and going.

She hurt all over, her body aching in places she hadn’t even known she had. And she wished, more than anything, that she had someone to call, somebody who could come and tell her, even though she wouldn’t have believed it, that everything was going to be all right.

She’d decided not to get in touch with her parents. Not yet. Even if they were in the country, she wouldn’t have wanted them to come rushing east with their manic prayers and Bible verses. She wasn’t as angry with them as she’d always been, but she wasn’t up to all that, either. And she couldn’t call Teresa. God, no … she’d shot the woman’s favorite singer dead, for godsakes.

Then again, knowing her old roommate? The fact that G.B. had turned out to be a homicidal maniac was going to change her opinion pretty damn fast.

For all Cait knew, she was going to be hero in the woman’s eyes when they saw each other next: Teresa liked Dirty Harry movies even more than she liked heavy metal from the Reagan decade—

Some kind of shouting lit off out in the hall, and suddenly, all the normally quiet sounds went total-chaos, people yelling, running, the focus getting louder and louder as if a hurricane were closing in on her room—

Her door opened, some big shape pushing it wide.

“Duke!” She sat up so fast, her stomach nearly revolted from the pain. “Oh, my God! Duke, what are you—”

“Sir, I have to ask you to go back to your—”

“You were just operated on, sir, you need to—”

“Mr. Phillips! Please at least sit down—”

In spite of the fact that he was white as a ghost and weaving like a drunk and surrounded by hysterical medical staff, Duke ignored the drama, shuffling in with his hospital johnny and his compression stockings, leaning on his IV pole for support.

“Hi,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Cait burst into tears and broke out laughing at the same time, a total emotional overload taking her in both directions until all she could do was reach out to him.

“There room for two up on that thing?” he said with a grunt, still ignoring the swarm of people in scrubs and name tags.

“For you, yes.” She wiped her face but didn’t get far clearing her eyesight. And she continued to laugh and cry as she pushed herself over.

It was a hard thing to watch, him stretching out. Clearly he was in tremendous pain, his body moving like an old man’s, his coloring becoming worse—if that was possible.

But then he shoved away the hands that grabbed for him. “What. You wanted me to sit down, I did you one better. Now, leave me the hell alone.”

Well, looked like her bouncer was prepared to start swinging if he had to—and no one needed that, did they.

“Give us a minute,” she said to everyone. “He’ll leave as soon as we get a chance to talk, okay? I promise. Please.”

Lot of grumbling. Some threats to call various doctors as well as security if Mr. Phillips wasn’t in his own room in another five minutes. But they did leave.

When the door eased shut, she touched his face, reassuring herself that he was real. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m too stubborn to die like that.”

“I’m so glad … to see you.”

Even though his hand was shaking, probably because he had all the blood pressure of a deflated balloon, he brought her in for a kiss.

His lips were still soft. And his eyes were still blue. And his skin was still warm.

“I thought I was going to lose me, too,” he admitted.

“It killed me to leave you. But I had to get the phone.”

“You saved my life.”

Her brows went down. “Oh, I don’t know—”

He silenced her by putting his forefinger up on her mouth. “You did.”

“Does that mean you owe me some huge debt?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She had to smile, even though the gash on her cheek stung. “Will you take me on another date. When my face is back to normal?”

“You’re as beautiful as ever. To me … you’ll always be beautiful.” As he kissed her again, she believed him. Completely. “And I will take you on that date.”

Laying his head down next to hers, he stared at her for the longest time. “You gave me my freedom, too.”

So funny. She had wanted to get out there and live … talk about being careful of what you wished for. And yet she couldn’t think of anything better than having this man next to her. The detective was right: It was going to take a long, long time to get over something like this, and there was a good possibility she was never going to be the same.

But she had Duke. And the sense that neither of them was going anywhere else for the rest of their days … and nights.

For some reason, she thought of the janitor in that church. Thank God she had listened to him and heard Duke out, letting him talk. “I want you to know something.”