Sweet Disgrace

“No man, no, that was a bad f**king trip—”

“You know better. You’ve felt it. The constant dread, the darkness that haunts you? The happiness you could never quite attain no matter how often your dreams came true? It was me. I own you. I’ve only come to collect what’s mine.” The words rang hollow even to his own ears. He’d used them countless times to work himself into a feverish frenzy and stoke the terror of his victims. Only they sounded flat to him now.

“Please, I’ll give you anything—”

Damael had almost forgotten Saklon’s presence. “Anything?” the other demon asked, his voice the embodiment of all the slimy, slithering things in Hell. “I must say this looks to be a tasty morsel right here.” Damael glanced back to see him lifting the blanket off Melody, licking his top lip in a lascivious sweep as his gaze traveled over her curves.

“No!” Adam cried. “Not her, don’t touch her…”

“But I thought you said anything.” The jet suddenly bumped wildly. Saklon made a show of steadying himself and looking around in mock terror. “Oops. You know, your careless bargain may have just doomed not only you, but the only other mortal stupid enough to genuinely love you. And a few innocents, for good measure.”

“Stop it,” Damael growled. “We’ve come for him, and him alone.”

“Really. Whatever happened to your sense of adventure, Damael? You’re no fun anymore. Did some of the angel’s sunshine and rainbows rub off on you? Shall I buy you a kitten?” Saklon straightened, all hints of amusement gone from his features. “I say we reap them all. I would consider it compensation, more or less, for the soul you tried to deny me.”

“You’re not being denied anything, you bastard. I’m here now, aren’t I? You’re getting what you want.”

Saklon’s eyes burned like metal in a forge. “I notice I still haven’t gotten it yet.”

Damael turned back to Adam, who’d blanched whiter than Celeste’s robes. “I was a stupid kid,” he said, his terrified gaze searching Damael’s face. For what? A hint of compassion? “I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know it was real. I would never have—”

“Enough. Have you any idea how many of you say that? ‘I was stupid, I was desperate, I had nowhere to turn’… It gets tiresome after a while. You made the choice. All you mortals, so caught up in your personal dramas, not realizing you’re the lucky ones.” Damael felt his lips twist bitterly with sudden, scathing jealousy. “You have options.”

“So do you,” Adam said softly, his sudden bravery startling Damael so that he nearly recoiled. “I can see it. You don’t want to do this—”

He was silenced by the hand that shot down to grasp his throat, cutting off even a thin whistle of air, planting him hard against the seatback. “I can’t hear any more,” Damael grated. “I tried to let you go, and I failed. If I don’t take you, he will. So it’s all the same.” Now that Adam was in his death grip, it was better to get the entire affair over with. So he could go home and try to find himself again without that angel hounding him, stirring up emotions he shouldn’t even have.

Dispassionately watching Adam struggle and tear at the marmoreal hand around his throat, Damael put his other hand flat on the man’s chest. But the dark magic that would loosen the soul and suck it free from the husk of his mortal body wouldn’t gather beneath his palm.

Frowning, he focused and tried again, more an experiment than any attempt to actually succeed. When he felt nothing yet again, he slackened his crushing grip on Adam’s throat. Adam, whose face had been turning purple, sucked in a desperate breath.

The power wouldn’t come. He didn’t know if it was gone, if it really was some case of Celeste’s divinity “rubbing off” on him, or if he simply didn’t have the will to summon it any longer. Either way, he wouldn’t be the one to take this man down. That time had passed the moment he’d ripped up the contract. He should have known.

“I can’t,” he said aloud to Saklon, though he didn’t take his eyes off the wheezing Adam.

“For fuck’s sake. Step aside.”

“I don’t think so. I released this one, and I say he’s still free. If you try to defy me on this, I’ll rip you to pieces.”

He’d been prepared for more of Saklon’s babbling; what he hadn’t anticipated was the sudden, violent blast of power that wrenched him sideways and flung him across the plane’s cabin. Pain radiated through him as he was pinned against the cockpit wall, momentarily blinding him and invoking a cold blast of rage he could scarcely contain. If the bastard wanted to play dirty, Damael could give as well as he got. The counterattack spell he unleashed was meant to be catastrophic, aimed straight at the demon who fancied himself a superior. Even with his senses mostly immobilized, he felt it hit its target.

But the cry that rent the air wasn’t Saklon’s roar of answering fury. It was high and feminine, and Damael wrenched his eyes open just in time to see Celeste crumple to the ground, wisps of smoke rising from her. As the source of the power that had hit him full blast was severed, he could move again.

Horror lanced through him. She’d been the one to attack him, not Saklon. Where the hell had she even come from?

He peeled himself from the wall and dove toward her. Saklon was nowhere to be seen, but there was a massive scorch mark on the floor. Apparently his little non-fighter angel had banished his colleague straight back to Hell, and good riddance. She hadn’t made Damael suffer the same fate. He’d nearly killed her for it.

“Shit. Celeste?” She flopped limply in his grip as he pulled her up and cradled her in his arms. Like a ragdoll. A ragdoll with black fluid trickling from her eyes and nose, streaking her terribly pale face. If only she’d paused for a second to listen to what he’d been saying…but all she’d seen, surely, was him standing over a very terrified Adam. And she’d struck.

He’d retaliated with everything. Could she possibly survive that? The horror lodged in the pit of his stomach yawned wide, engulfing him whole. She was lifeless. Something as simple as a kiss couldn’t undo this.

“Will she be all right?”

He’d nearly forgotten the human. In his agitation, he almost killed the man on the spot for daring to speak. Instead, he lifted his desperate gaze to Adam’s face. “What difference does it make to you?”

“I remember her,” Adam said. “I dreamed about her last night. She said she was going to help me.” He narrowed his eyes on Damael. “What difference does it make to you?”

That mortal was either very brave or very stupid.

He was also very safe. Ten seconds ago, Adam’s deadline had passed. Damael could tempt him, entice him, whisper in his ear to do the dastardly things humans sometimes did, but he couldn’t take him. Not anymore.

He lowered his gaze to the angel in his arms, but spoke to Adam. “This no longer concerns you. She saved you. That’s all you need to know. Now go, live your life, and remember none of this.”

“But how will I know if she’s all ri—” The sentence trailed away, and Adam looked around in bewilderment as Damael raised the shields protecting them from mortal eyes. After a moment, the human dropped into his seat and sighed, settling back to admire the starry expanse outside the window again. As if nothing had ever happened to him.

He was the lucky one.

“Please speak to me,” Damael whispered, stroking the hair away from Celeste’s forehead. It felt brittle and dry, nothing like the cool slide of silk it had once been. As he went on touching the strands, they began to break between his fingers. Her skin was growing more ashen by the minute. “Tell me how loathsome and hateful I am for what I’ve done, tell me how much you hate me, how you hope to never see me again…anything, so long as you speak to me.”

She didn’t move. His poison had infiltrated her. A trickle of blood slipped from her mouth, and this more than anything else spurred him to action. He leapt to his feet, taking her shriveling body with him. The body that had once been so soft and delicate and eager to be pressed against his. There was no time to waste. But what did he do? How did he fix this?

Only one answer came to him. He had to take her home. Surely they would know there if anything could be done.

Both Heaven and Hell possessed amulets that protected its bearer from the hostile atmosphere of the opposing land. They were kept well hidden and used only to conduct the most crucial business. He didn’t have time for that. Even if the journey killed him, better he should be unmade than Celeste. She was selfless and brave and good. He was nothing. He had nothing to exist for.

Gathering her close, he pressed a kiss to her cold forehead and shot through the heavens. The journey didn’t prove a smooth one. He breached the veil between worlds, and almost immediately felt life begin to ebb away from him. The very environment here seemed intent upon stamping him out, and by the time the fabled gates came into view, he was weak enough to collapse. No longer able to sustain the magic that kept his humanlike veneer in place, he felt it bleed away, and the beast emerged.

Which only made it worse. He could’ve been plunged into a vat of Celeste’s tears for the pain that sluiced over him. Holding her protectively close, he trudged nearer, but it was like making his way through quicksand. The brightness became more blinding with every step. He kept his gaze steady on her face, looking for any sign of awakening as she drew closer to home.

If there was any, he could no longer see it. His vision winked out, and he staggered to his knees. But his presence had been noticed at last. Raised voices greeted him, all of them like wind chimes, alien voices, at once beautiful and terrible. Someone removed his burden from his arms—she’d grown so heavy he could hardly hold on to her any longer—and he let himself pitch forward onto the ground. He’d hoped to find relief there somehow, but even the grass beneath him seemed to reject him, stabbing painfully into his flesh. He only had time for one whispered plea before unconsciousness took him, and he managed to lift his head to utter it.

“Save her.”

Chapter Seven

Two years later…

No one noticed the angel in the corner.

This time, they could all see her. She wore torn jeans and a sheer white blouse under a black leather jacket. Her auburn hair spiraled down her back. But there was too much excitement, too much adrenaline in the air, for the mortals to notice she was a little different than they were, with an otherworldly sheen to her complexion and eyes that were a little too bright. Too knowing.

The exhilaration positively scented the air in the arena. Celeste deftly maneuvered her way through the crowd, heading for the nearest exit. Adam had first walked out onto the stage well over an hour ago, sending the crowd into a frenzy. It had yet to subside. He was still there now, working the stage like a whirlwind. His vocals were incredible. She didn’t care for the growling, roaring and screaming, but when he truly let go and let his voice soar, it could bring a tear to the eye. Apparently Damael’s contract had dictated people would love him, but that was all over now, Adam’s soul was free…and they still showed up night after night to adore him. His faithful minions.