The Lariat (Finding Justus Series) (4 page)

6

“What kind of college professor owns a Mercedes Benz G-class?” I scoffed and ran my hand along the hood of the extravagant white tank-like SUV.

He just smiled and opened the door for me.

“This car costs more than my college education,” I scoffed.

Now it was his turn to scoff, “You have two degrees from Trinity University. I don’t think so. Your education far surpasses the value of my car.”

I wouldn’t call myself a car person, but right then, I definitely wanted a car. A statement, some sort of accessory that defined me, like this sophisticated tank defined Cyrus. I still remember the first time I saw Orrin parked down my street in his sleek, black Audi. And again in his life as Heath he drove an old beat up pick-up truck.

How could two totally different vehicles fit the same person so perfectly?

I couldn’t help but miss him. He was a gaping hole within me, a pulsing pain, never healing. I just had to hold onto the hope that one day that piece would be returned to me, or I could learn to live with the pain. Admittedly I hadn’t been doing much of that lately. I had been hiding in liquor bottles.

I made a mental note to check my finances and see about finally getting my own set of wheels. I would definitely have to stop spending so much of my pay check on liquor and pick up some extra shifts…or get a real job.

“You’ll have to get a new license first,” Cyrus interrupted my train of thought and headed out of the parking lot.

“I don’t like how you do that,” I fired back offended, but he just laughed.

“I can’t help it. It’s an angel thing. Part of my birthright. Most of the time it’s pretty irritating. I was excited with the invention of headphones this past century. I don’t go anywhere without them most days.”

“But still, you shouldn’t comment on other people’s private thoughts.”

“Oh, I don’t do that to just anyone. People would catch on. Usually I believe privacy is important. I’m a very private person. It comes from being so old. You’ll learn in a few centuries.”

I don’t know why but the thought of staying drunk for centuries felt dreadful.

“I agree,” he interrupted again, “You should just stop now.”

“Seriously,
stop it
!” I seethed.

“It’s you who’s doing it. Not me. I can only hear unguarded thoughts, and right now you’re pretty much blasting them out like a normal human. Has no one ever told you angels can hear other people’s thoughts?”

“No.” I made a mental note to discuss the topic with my mother.

We drove down the major interstate leaving downtown and the people oblivious to the war surrounding them. They were too busy, caught in their own daily wars, plagued by the simplicity of their humanity to see anything beyond the end of their nose- or so I thought. I spent those three years surrounded by my own anger and blinded by my troubled. At that moment I was more aware off my human nature than ever.

I looked out the window to see a weathered, tired billboard that was long forgotten by the travelers making their way to their nine-to-fives. The words
He’s on his way,
were in peeling black letters- nothing else, just four simple words without picture or explanation. I almost looked away when those black letters began to fade against the white late-morning sun. Whether it was arrogance, intuition or insanity, I knew it was another message for me.

Who’s on his way? Cyrus? Orrin? Someone else?
I kept my thoughts to myself.

The radio was turned up, the
Civil Wars
played as I led him toward my favorite taqueria. He talked and I listened.

“Music has become an escape for me, a way that I can block out the useless noise of humanity,” he turned the music down, “but right now, with you, the silence is preferable. It allows me to hear all the things you don’t want me to know.”

“That’s not exactly fair, you know. Neither is asking for my help with coffee. Seriously, I’m the Beacon. My birthright is for those in serious peril, not those looking for a caffeine fix.”

“Thank you for enlightening me,” his words dripped with sarcasm. “Before I forget- I also need help finding somewhere to sit and I need someone to talk to for a couple of hours.”

“One hour. I have plans with my roommate,” I huffed.

“That’s perfect. One hour alone with you is a great start.”

He slowly reached for my hand, sliding his down off the steering wheel first, then resting his hand on his leg. I saw his movements out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me watch him, wondering if I was going to let it happen or pull my hand away.

Skin on skin.

A spark.

Fire.

The promise of his touch before did not disappoint. It was the second time his skin met mine, another moment that would change us forever.

I tried to keep my thought to myself, but I knew I wasn’t successful. I just couldn’t help sensations flowing through me at the thought of this angelic stranger.

“It’s okay. I feel it too. You don’t have worry.” Cyrus brought my hand to his lips. That was the moment my broken heart began to heal. He continued to hold it to his mouth even though the car filled with the smell of burning flesh.

I looked at my hand which was now cooking his own. I pulled it away stammering, “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…Are you okay?”

He opened his own hand and revealed is palm which was healing quickly, “It’s fine. Look,” he twirled his hand around. “I would gladly endure any punishment for the touch of your skin. To one day kiss those lips.”

My mouth hung open. My heart raced. No one, even Orrin, had ever said anything like that to me. Well, maybe he had, but at that moment in time I could not think of a single occurrence.              

And again Cyrus laughed. “I’ve waited a long time to turn your brain to mush like that.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll explain when we sit. I have an hour, right?” He laughed again, exceptionally proud at my state of befuddlement.

“You should know I hate being left in the dark,” I said a few minutes later. My words were not enough to wipe that jolly grin off his lovely face.

As promised, I directed him fifteen minutes to the south side of San Antonio. He opened the door onto a dirty and industrial corner of the city. The people walking the streets looked as if they had been steamrolled by life. The sides on many buildings were covered in graffiti or dilapidated siding. Cyrus was unfazed. He opened the door to the small white ramshackle taqueria and gestured for me to lead the way.

“Hi Layla,” Anna, the waitress greeted me by name, “Did you have an order to pick up?”

“No,” I explained, “I think we’re going to sit for a while and have some
coffee
.” I eyed Cyrus with a frown, but there wasn’t as much feeling behind that frown as there was an hour ago.

“Come here often?” Cyrus was a little surprised.

“It’s
my
favorite place for coffee. They have great carne asada too.”
And tequila
, I thought to myself. He heard enough from me. It was time to work on that control I used to have.

We were the only two patrons in the dining area. I could hear the cooks trading insults in Spanish through the wall. It had been an easy language to learn. It was one of thirty languages I had bothered to learn during my time at Trinity.

Our time without Orrin,
my daemon protested. It didn’t like spending time with an angel. Resentment bubbled forth from that part of me, and instead of aiming it at myself, I aimed it at Cyrus. I knew it wasn’t fair, but my resentment was the only thing preventing me from falling hard for this guy.

For the first time, I was conflicted. Thoughts of Orrin and feelings for Cyrus assaulted me at once. I looked at Cyrus for a reaction but he chose that moment to give nothing away, which is why I knew his feelings had truly been injured.

“It’s okay,” he admitted, chagrinned, “Being in love is wonderful, and painful at the same time.”

I withdrew from the table and folded my arms into my lap, waiting. “You said you had some information on the…
events
from the Coffee Shack yesterday?”

“All business, huh?” He sighed, “Okay, we have time.”

I looked at my watch, “Actually counting drive time, and the fact that I have plans with Bennet, you only have twenty minutes left.”

“Bennet? Your roommate? What’s she like?”

“No,” I interrupted his diversion, “Don’t change the subject. I need to know what happened. You say you have information, and you say you aren’t responsible. Then tell me who is to blame and I will kill them.”

I felt my eyes light up. My tattoo itched and I rolled my neck trying to pacify my daemon. It was in no mood.

His face fell, “I was right to assume you don’t know what you’re up against. That message the Vagabond brought you was a threat. You’re in danger.”

“Is it Lillith? I’ve taken her on before,” I said a little too cocky, “but she’s bound in Hell. The only way she can get up here is through her Vagabonds. If that’s what you’re worried about- I can deal with that.”

“
We,”
he corrected.

“We?” I asked.

“Absolutely. You are now a
We.
You won’t have to take on any of this by yourself. We will handle it together.”

I smiled letting him down easily, “Thanks but I don’t need your help. You’re super-hot, and I realize we have this strange chemistry, but I refuse to add anyone else to my
team.
”

He sipped his coffee unfazed, “I’m not asking.”

“And I’m not accepting.”

“You don’t have a choice, Beacon. Either you accept my help or I demand it from you.”

He was cruel to remind me. If he phrased it like a request for help, then I would be powerless to resist.

“I am going to assume for a moment that you know enough of Lillith and the prophecy surrounding your creation.”

I rolled me eyes, “You assume correctly.”

“There are those who would like to see that prophecy come true. As the Queen of Hell, she has many allies that would help her, especially now that she has been imprisoned in Hell and not allowed to come to Earth any longer.”

“But she can still use a host, possess a human being. I have been ready and waiting for the day she shows up.”

“Really,” he scoffed, “Losing your senses and yourself in alcohol is hardly what I would call ready and waiting.”

“Shut up,” I boiled.

He just laughed.

“You’re right, but it’s not her.”

“I thought it would be. But then again, I would have felt her. Her presence would have come over me like it has in the past. I would have felt her in my soul even if she was disembodied.”

“I agree. You would have felt her. It seems someone else is after you now too.” Cyrus rubbed his stubbled chin with his forefinger driving me to distraction.

“Now I feel the need to inform you, this isn’t my first rodeo with deamonic entities. I’ve gone up against Lillith twice now. Besides being the Beacon, it is my sole mission to stop that damned prophecy from coming true. I teamed up with Orias when I took a walk through Hell itself for a friend a few years back. Whatever big bad uglies lay in wait, I’m okay. Lay it on me.”

He smiled, unimpressed, “Like I said before. I know much more than you think, which is much more than you want me to know.” He waited for that information to sink in for good this time. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but Cyrus, like Orrin, was here for a reason. All members of the Vulgar, we were few and far between. We did not move or take action without reason. Cyrus fancied himself my hero and I was about to nip those ideas in the bud.

“Listen, if you have something to say…

“No, you listen. I still have,” he glanced at his cell, “seventeen minutes.”

“And you are getting on my nerves.”

“I know,” he offered. I sat there while he searched my eyes for the slightest bit of amusement. When he found none, he continued, “Okay, okay. By now you know there is only one daemon truly more powerful than Lillith and it’s not Orias.”

“I read about a few others who have that power,” I cut in. “Sorath and Azazel.”

“No. Those are still minor daemons in comparison.”

“Minor? You’re calling those guys minor?”

“In comparison, yes.” he answered.

“There was only one angel created by God with the ability to affect the human world and the people in it. He retained this power when he fell and claimed the throne of the Underworld.”

I sat up, sure I was misinterpreting his comments. I could feel my daemon curl into itself and growl.

“This daemon leaves a very distinct calling card.” He rolled his sleeve revealing three slashes on his forearm. It reminded me of the scar that was left on Jamie after I pulled the metal from her chest and healed her.