Soul Stealer (24 page)

They hit the sidewalk, the cooler autumn hair helping clear Voro’s mind.  He sucked in a healthy lung full . “That’s the difference. The fact that people trust me and count on me freaks me right out, Jehoel. I’m not made for that.”

“It’s a hell of a way to live, though. Not trusting anyone.”

He turned to the taller man. “There is one person I trust, even though he tricked me into this whole weird science experiment of yours. And because he trusts me now I’m all emotionally conflicted. If it was any other one of you I wouldn’t give a scratch unless Raphael asked me to.”

Jehoel smiled a knowing smile. “Raphael has that effect on everyone, Voro. Usually I don’t really get along with him.”

They started walking for somewhere quiet to melt back to the other side. An alley across the street was perfect and they headed to it with silent agreement. Halfway across the street Voro stopped, grasping Jehoel’s arm. The angel turned to him, concern on his face. “What is it?”

“Angels and sex with humans, it’s bad to the humans always?”

“Usually there’s a reaction when we touch humans. It sparks, tingles, kind of hurts. Like static electricity, but right down to your spine. Sometimes people can handle touching us. Remember that humans are instantly physically mad for us, Voro. It’s an obsession. It’s unhealthy. And they … go crazy from it.”

Voro had a feeling, a very bad feeling. He remembered Raphael’s hospital room, the smell in that room. It smelled exactly like two humans hot for each other. Raphael and his little nurse. And now Jehoel was telling him even
he could be harmful to Claudia.

“Could … Raphael, as he is now, could he cause a human that kind of damage?”

Jehoel shrugged. “You said he seems human, but when it comes down to it, on this earth, even as he is, he’s still an angel. I think … I think he’d have to be the same as he always was. Why?”

“Shit. I’ve got to talk to him before he does something stupid.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The man
was in a shroud of dark, a mass of surging and retreating smoke within folds of inky blackness, hard to tell which part was holding everything in place. The edges of where the face should be were glowing red embers, giving the mere suggestion of a face.

In front of him were hordes of people, genuflecting to this smoking menace on their knees, heads pressed to the scorched earth, hands outstretched as though their arms were being pulled. The masses stretched as far as the eye could see past smoking columns that were once a city. Now it was ruins, the survivors readying to be enslaved by pure, undiluted evil.

Saleem wasn’t entranced, wasn’t fooled, and hadn’t been noticed. He ran. He ran to get help, he raced to find the one who could help end it all, to free the innocents.

He sat up gasping, slicked in an oil of terror.

It took an entire five minutes to convince himself he was in his bedroom. Another three minutes to convince himself he didn’t have to get up and run. And then another two minutes to stop the near-heart attack he woke with.

He lunged to turn his lamp on when he could trust his mechanics. The room flooded golden and familiar, helping step his pulse and respiration down to a normal level.

He knew he’d experienced a new dimension to his nightmare.  He wasn’t being chased anymore, he was running to get help and protect people. It still terrified him, but it was somehow comforting to move on to a heroic instead of helpless stance.

It was an hour until sunrise. He had to eat.

He wore his boxer shorts down the hall to his kitchen, flipped on the lights and set to work. Saleem had to make sure he ate a lot at breakfast during fasting. It had to last all day.

Six eggs, scrambled. Slab of steak. Pan-friend sweet potato. Coffee perking while he used a half carton of orange juice to wash down the meal.

He was stowing all the dishes in to the dishwasher when there was the soft knock at the door; so faint he had to pause to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. When it sounded again he rinsed his hands and carried a dish towel to the door. Through the peephole he saw that it was Claudia, still wearing what she’d had on for their date.

He frowned, looked down at his lack of attire and said through the door, “Claudia?
Umm … just give me a minute.” She didn’t answer.

He scooted to his room, pulled on a pair of flannel
pajama bottoms and returned to unlock the door.

“Claudia? Is everything -”She cut him off, collapsing against him, arms around his neck holding something cold and hard, but he didn’t track it fast enough because she was kissing him.

Her lips were slack, her tongue warm and tasted of something he didn’t partake of very often.

He pulled back from her mouth, steadying her by her hips. Her head lolled back and she smiled. “I memorized your address. Isn’t that pathetic?”

He frowned at the smell of her breath. “Claudia … is everything okay?”

Her head came forward to him, and she pressed her lips to his again, slower, gentle. For a too-long moment he let himself feel it before coming back to his senses.

He held her back by the shoulders, not paying attention to how soft her skin was and how her hair tickled his hand, warm and silky.

“Claudia … are you … have you been drinking?”

She blinked slowly and made like she was trying to shake her head no as she took her arms off his shoulders. There was a bottle with a black label on it, half-empty.

Jack Daniels? Good grief.

He took the bottle from her and she let him, her smile vacant and not her. He stood back, trying not to appear shocked. “Claudia? What happened after I left you?”

She waved a hand like nothing much mattered anymore. “Nothing. Just hell freezing over, that’s all.” She pressed against his chest again, and he wasn’t paying attention to how her full breasts cushioned her from him, and how they rose up to fill out her top even more …

“What are you doing here, Claudia?”

“I’m lonely. And sad. And I need cheering up.”

Claudia rose up on her toes, laying another kiss on him, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth, her hands reaching around and grabbing his backside.

He tore her hands away, backed off against the hallway closet doors and actually pushed her off. She stumbled, nearly fell but caught herself with a hand on the opposite wall. Her face looked suddenly pissed.

“You too? All around me men are just panting for me. Turns out I’m not that hard a mark and they just … turn tail and run. Well fuck you too.”

“Claudia,” he caught her arm as she spun for the door, overshot her pivot and went down hard on one knee. She cursed, pulling her arm free, but stayed on the floor.

He waited a moment, stunned stupid. He was way in the deep end here, not sure what the hell he could do to make this okay. He was uncomfortable, and upset that she was here like this. It made him feel bad and yet what was she doing here?

He looked at the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, out of his element on a grand scale. In the silence he heard sniffling and realized she was sobbing. It shook her entire body, making her look very small.

He set the bottle down on the floor and knelt next to her. He didn’t touch her, he just waited. When it became clear she wasn’t stopping, he moved closer to her side, reaching a tentative hand out to rest on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. She didn’t throw him off so he ran his hand to her other shoulder, pulling her into a half-hug. She crumpled into him, curling up impossibly tiny in his lap. Her long legs and arms folded up under her, and her torso fell on his legs while she wept.

The sky was lightening, he was acutely aware of it. As it got closer her sobs quieted, and he knew she was likely passing out.

Saleem picked her up easily, carried her to his room, set her in his bed, pulled off her pumps and covered her with the sheet before closing the blinds tight. In the doorway he paused to look back at her and she burrowed into his pillows, legs stretching outwards in a pose of complete vulnerability.

He had the obscure thought that he liked taking care of her, as confusing as it might be, before he shut the door and went to the kitchen to wash his hands before praying.

Thea Thiel was drunk. But very, very happy.

She was smiling as she sauntered down the hallway, walk-of-shaming her way back to her apartment. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it might be very soon. She had no idea. Her c
ell phone was dead, had been for hours.

Christ, her body was like overdone spaghetti. James had really known what he was doing in bed …

She giggled then stopped while her attention was pulled from the next footstep. She could only concentrate on one thing at a time.

She closed her eyes, remembering how good he’d looked when he took his shirt off. And all those tattoos had been hot as fuck, too. They’d both been pretty wasted
, but whatever. It was the first time she’d been laid in almost a year and it had been worth the wait. When she opened her eyes her stomach leapt a bit and she waited for the nausea to pass. It did and she felt pretty proud of herself, then she continued on her way.

She was sore, but it was a good ache. She smiled again.

You had a good evening, didn’t you?

She stopped, confused, looking around. She’d heard someone talking. Where’d they go?

I’m right here, sweetheart. Don’t worry.

The voice was cool and smooth, almost seeming to slide down the back of her neck, under her shirt and all the way down her spine.  Her skin broke out in goose bumps and she felt her nipples get painfully hard, too. Okay, she was sore in a few places …

I can do better than that,
the voice promised.
That was nothing compared to what I can give you.

Her body warmed as though something was touching her. She gasped in surprise, looking around, putting her back to the wall between apartment doors. “Who’s there?” she drawled, eyes falling shut.

So warm,
the voice went on, and she felt the invasion of something below, even though no one else was around. She clutched the wall behind her, head falling back.

“Wait,” she was trying to fight against it. “What is this? Who are you?”

An orgasm hit her from nowhere and she was calling out nonsensical words loudly, worried she might be waking the neighbors but not caring at the same time.

Come to me,
the voice said, releasing her physically so she could blink, fight to clear her head. A door swung open across from her, leading into a darkened apartment.

Come,
the voice insisted again.

Jesus, that orgasm had been enough to make her forget her activities earlier on. She put a hand to the door frame, trying to see inside, but it was too dark.

Thea,
the voice teased at her.
I’m in bed. Waiting for you.

Tipsy on her feet she made her way inside, the door shutting softly behind her.

Raphael opened one eye, looked around the room, and tried to figure out what had awakened him. In the living room he could hear the slightest creaking of the floor.

He rolled Patrice to her other side gently and she didn’t so much as twitch in sleep. He pulled on his jeans and made his way to the living room on thick Berber carpeting. The light coming through the window was milky but bright compared to the bedroom. His fists were clenched, he realized in surprise. He was ready to defend against whatever was out there; to protect his woman.

Not his woman, he corrected himself. Just … the woman he loved.

Someone rose from the sofa and he dropped into a fighting stance, then gave a laugh of relief. “Voro,” he whispered with a chuckle. “What’s … what are you doing here?”

The Sin Eater didn’t look happy. He looked very disappointed, actually. “I was hoping you’d have been in better control but … this place smells like sex and love, man.”

Raphael felt his face colo
r. Those damn Sin Eaters and their sense of smell for everything. “What? Are you really going to lecture me on sex?”

Voro laughed at that. “Fuck no. I can’t judge you. I don’t know how you can control yourself as it is. But … I’m worried about your nurse, Raphael. Jehoel was telling me about humans that lay with angels and how they go nuts. He’s telling me I could possibly do the same damage, man. What’s saying you won’t hurt her like that?”

The world tilted. He would have sworn there had been an earthquake. He was falling without moving. His stomach jumped to his throat.

“Shit, Voro -”

His friend caught him, helped him sit on the sofa. He forced Raphael’s head down between his own knees.

“Breathe buddy, and no more cursing. You’re freaking me out.”

“I can’t hurt her … oh God, what if I cause that? She’s got mental illness in her family. Voro -”

“Don’t talk right now. Breathe.”

It actually helped. He felt stable again, whole. Steady. When he sat up, Voro was crouched on the floor in front of him, eye-level.

“I didn’t want to freak you out. I wanted to stop you from taking that chance. But don’t expect the worst, okay? We’re going to figure out how to get you back, but …”

Something shifted. Voro was suddenly just looking at him as intently as he ever had.

“What is it? You’re freaking me out now.”

“No, it’s nothing wrong it’s just … you look as happy as I can remember seeing you. Ever. I don’t think I knew you were unhappy until I looked at you just now.”

Raphael felt his throat close up. “I am happy here. I’m … I’m as close to heaven as I can be down here, Voro. I think I’m in love.”

To his credit the Sin Eater didn’t even almost laugh at him. “This is … this is tough, Raphael. But since it’s … well, since it’s been done I don’t see what more harm we can do. You can do. And honestly … I want you to enjoy it, man.”

Raphael sat back. “What?”

“No, I mean it. Look at you, Raphael. You’re fucking beaming and you finally popped your cherry. I’m proud of you.”

Raphael ran his hands over his face and into his hair. “Voro, come on -”

“What did you think of it?”

He brought his hands down. “Of what?”

“Your dinner. What do you think I mean?”

He was blushing again. “I … I don’t know. I … I like it. A lot.”

“Yeah, of course you did. How’d you do? Was she happy?”

Raphael frowned. “I’m not comfortable talking about this.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Voro -”

“It’s okay. Bringing a woman to orgasm is very tricky. It takes some practice -”

“It can’t take that much practice,” Raphael muttered.

Voro raised his eyebrows. “What’s that now?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh. You quick learner you.  That’s my boy.”

“Wait -”

“It’s okay. I’m proud of you.”