Demon's Delight (26 page)

He didn't think she even realized she was shaking her head, denying his words even as she heard them. “That can't be—You can't—”

“Last time I saw the doc, he said he didn't think I'd make it another six months.” Zane managed a weak smile for her benefit. “That was five and a half months ago.”

W
HY
didn't you tell me?” Rosemary knew she was out of line—not just with the question, but with the tone of voice in which she'd asked it. No one talked to Saint Peter that way, but she wasn't sorry. She felt like she'd just woken up from millennia of sleep. For the first time in her existence, she had begun to question what she did, and why.

Across the bar, Zane and his crew broke into a fit of laughter as Zane turned away from a swimsuit-model calendar they'd tacked to the wall and then threw a dart over his shoulder.

Rosemary smiled. At least there were no blindfolds involved tonight.

“That's ten points!” Zane declared, studying his hit.

“No way!” Kyle called.

“I got her thumb!” Apparently certain body parts were worth higher scores than others.

A dark-haired man in black jeans and a leather jacket shouldered Zane out of the way. “Let me show you how it's done, old man.”

The new guy looked familiar to Rosemary, but she couldn't place him. “Who is that?” she asked Peter.

“Name's Trey MacAllister. He's a wheel man. Heard Zane is thinking about adding some ground work to his show, needs a stunt driver. The deal is, if he can beat Zane at backward darts, he's hired. If not…” Peter shrugged.

Rosemary shook her head. Only Zane would substitute a game for an employment interview.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, Zane turned to her from across the room. The look he sent her was quickly shuttered, but not before she'd read the pain there. The longing. The same feelings echoed inside her.

He broke the eye contact suddenly, and stumbled into a chair as he reached to pour himself a beer from the pitcher on the table.

“I don't think the wheel man's going to have much trouble winning himself a job. Our boy's been hitting the brew hard tonight.” Peter's voice was heavy with resignation. “Guess I can't blame him.”

Rosemary turned back to her mentor, fighting back the moisture in her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me Zane thinks he's going to die?”

“He
is
going to die.”

“He thinks he's going to die of a brain aneurysm. That's why he does the crazy things he does. He doesn't think he has anything to lose.”

“Maybe he doesn't.”

“What about
time
? No doctor can know for sure when it's going to happen. He could have days, weeks, maybe even months left.”

Peter checked sideways up and down the bar, as if to be sure none of his other patrons were close enough to overhear, then leaned toward Rosemary across the bar. “I thought you were the one who didn't understand why people fought so hard to stay here, to hang on when there was a better place waiting for them on the other side.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Maybe I did feel that way, once. But I hate to see him give up even a minute of what he has left. He just…
lives
more than any human I've ever seen.”

Every second. Full throttle.
That's what he'd told her. Now she knew why. He didn't think he had many seconds left. And that belief was going to drive him into killing himself in some stupid stunt.

Peter peered at her over the rim of the glass he was wiping dry. “What about you? How are you finding mortal existence?”

“I want to go home,” she said. Life hurt sometimes, as she'd found out firsthand earlier today in Zane's bedroom. Still, she didn't blame him. “But not at his expense.”

Peter made a noncommittal noise. “It's not our choice. You know that. When it's time, it's time.”

“I don't think I can do it.” She swept a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked up at Peter through her lashes. “I can't take him.”

“You have to.”

“What if I don't?” She raised her head and met his gaze squarely. “What if this one time, I say
no
?”

Peter's silvered eyebrows drew down even as his gaze lifted, traveled back to the pool tables, and Zane's new wheel man. He wiped the glass in his hand hard enough to shatter it.

At first, she thought his anger was directed at her. Then she followed his gaze across the room, and a cold pool spread through her chest.

The new guy clapped Zane on the back and laughed at something one of them had said. He had the rakish dark hair and easy smile of a charmer, but when he turned his gaze back toward her and Peter, as if he felt their gazes on him, his dark eyes were empty, bottomless wells.

Rosemary's skin prickled as she recognized him—not the mortal body he currently inhabited, but the evil inside him. His purpose on Earth was the same as hers—he was a shepherd of souls from this realm of existence to the next. Only when he gathered a person's essence, he took it to a much darker place.

“If you don't take Zane's soul,” Peter said in a rough tone she rarely heard him use, “someone else will.”

 

Rosemary tried to stay away from the air show on Thursday—tried, and failed. Zane had made his choices, and they didn't include her. Today's stunt wasn't a dangerous one, a formation skydive with a local team he'd worked with before, and it had gone off without a hitch. The airfield was closing down for the day. There was really no reason for her to be here.

Except that she couldn't stay away.

She hadn't slept well, knowing that one of the Fallen, a dark angel, had taken up residence so close to Zane, and this heavy-limbed, blurry-eyed feeling that came with exhaustion had her fighting to hold on to any semblance of objectivity about death—Zane's death—even more than usual.

Zane's hangar was cool compared to the evening heat outside. Kyle and Jimmie had the biplane's cover opened and were standing with tools in hands over her, but seemed to be more focused on a discussion going on in the office than the engine. Through half-open mini-blinds, Rosemary saw two figures behind the glass. Since they were shouting, it wasn't hard to identify them as Jasper and Zane.

“I didn't ask for your opinion on this stunt, Jasper!”

“That's the point, Zane. You didn't ask because you know it's crazy. I'm not letting you do this.”

Rosemary glanced at Kyle and Jimmie. “What's going on?”

The boys shrugged as one. “Been at it like this all afternoon,” Kyle said. “I've never seen them so mad at each other.”

Jimmie shoved his greasy hands into the pockets of his coveralls. “It's the new guy's fault. Jasper don't like the stunt him and Zane worked up. Says it's too risky.”

Rosemary's heart rolled over. It wasn't beyond one of the Fallen to put ideas in a human's head that would guarantee a soul to be available soon. Ideas like an impossible stunt.

A third figure moved out of the shadows in the office. Rosemary's jaw tensed.
Trey MacAllister.
The dark angel spoke too quietly to be heard, but Rosemary knew how insidious the Fallen's strategy could be. He would plant the seeds of distrust, drive the two long-term friends apart.

Clenching her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms, she marched toward the office.

“I'm not doing it, Z. I'm not flying this stunt.”

“Fine!” Zane dragged a hand through his hair as Rosemary opened the office door. “You think I can't replace one washed-up pilot? I'll have someone else on board before you make it out of the parking lot.”

Zane's statement drew Rosemary up short just inside the office. Surely he realized how hurtful his words had been. Jasper rasped his hand over a day's gray beard stubble. “You do that,” he said quietly, and shouldered his way out without looking back.

“Jasper, wait!” she called, but his footsteps echoed across the hangar without pause.

She turned back to Zane in disbelief. “What are you doing? He's your best friend!”

The hard mask that was Zane's face slipped for a moment, revealing a wash of emotion, but then snapped back in place when Trey spoke up.

“I know a couple of pilots. I could check if they're available tomorrow,” he said.

Never taking his eyes off Rosemary, Zane said “I'd appreciate that.”

After Trey stepped past her with a triumphant look, Zane closed the door behind him.

“I didn't expect to see you back here,” he said quietly, as if all the fight in him had been used up.

“I didn't expect to be back here.”

He wandered across the room to his desk, looking lost. “So why are you?”

Because she really wasn't sure why she'd come herself, she ignored the question. “What are you doing, Zane?”

“Doing about what?”

“Hiring a guy because he was able to beat you at darts—when you were drunk and he wasn't, I might add.”

“Hey, his resume is great and his references all checked out.” The cocky grin he flashed didn't fool her. “The darts were just a formality.”

“So you're going to throw away a friend who has stood by you for years for a good resume and references?”

Zane's grin fell. “Jasper will come back when he cools off. He always does.”

She shook her head. “Whatever you're planning, don't do it, Zane.”

“It's just a gag. It'll come off, no problem.”

“Are you sure you want it to?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I'm not trying to kill myself, Rosemary.”

She wasn't so sure, but she held her tongue until he finally quit picking at his desk blotter and raised his hazel gaze to hers, the fake grin back in place.

“Besides, if anything goes wrong, my guardian angel will be there to protect me, right?”

“No.” Rosemary shook her head slowly, sadly. “No, she won't be.”

She left before she gave in, before she told him too much, before she begged. Kyle and Jimmie called to her as she passed, but she hurried on by, wiping her eyes before anyone could see her tears.

Outside, a hand grabbed her arm and swung her around. Trey MacAllister twiddled a straw in his mouth, the dark voids of his eyes boring into her.

“The more you try to talk him out of it, the more determined he'll be to do it,” the dark angel said.

“I know.”

“Good. Just so we're clear. He's mine.”

Rosemary yanked her arm free. “Go to hell.”

Trey smiled. “Plan to. Saturday, as soon as I'm done here.”

He strolled away, and Rosemary had to lean against the corrugated tin hangar for support.

Oh, God.
On Saturday, Zane was going to die.

G
IVE
me some more altitude!”

What the hell was he doing?

Zane stood just inside the door to his jump plane, and wondered if the multiple aneurysms in his brain had somehow robbed him of common sense. Or maybe the part of his brain responsible for self-preservation had been removed with the tumor.

He had a pilot whose name he didn't even know at the controls of his plane and a wheel man he had never worked with in the cab of a semi below. A semi that would squash Zane like a bug on a windshield if it weren't perfectly controlled.

He also had several thousand people on the ground below, looking up and waiting to be thrilled on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Too late to back out now. He'd been paid, and he'd damned well deliver, even if the only two that really mattered to him—Rosemary and Jasper—weren't among the spectators.

He'd expected either or both of them to show up in the hangar before he taxied out, but it didn't happen. He might have expected it to take a bit longer with Jasper, the stubborn old man, but Rosemary…he'd really needed to see her. To know he wasn't alone.

Silly superstitious idea, he knew, but he really had come to think of her as his guardian angel. She made him feel safe.

He'd find both of them afterward, he promised himself. He'd make things right.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the airplane, and tumbled into position for the free fall. He couldn't see Trey's truck yet, but when he reached one thousand feet, he would key his radio, and the semi would begin a lumbering trek down the airfield's west runway. By the time Zane lined up on it, it would be traveling fifty miles per hour.

He would have to maintain a fast descent himself to keep up. But the real trick would be releasing his chute at exactly the right moment—the moment before his feet touched the padded deck of the truck's flatbed trailer. A fraction of a second too soon, and he'd fall like a rock, missing the padding and going
splat
on the concrete instead. Too late, and the wind resistance on the chute would tumble him off the back of the truck, which would be about as fun as leaping off a speeding train.

What the
hell
was he thinking when he agreed to this?

One thousand feet. He could see the truck now. It pulled out and slowly built up speed as he steered left and right, lining up on the flatbed.

Five hundred feet. Two-fifty. One hundred.

His heart crashed in his chest. He let go of the fear, the noise, the bright sunlight in his eyes, and narrowed his focus to two things: his feet and the X marking his landing spot on the flatbed.

He needed more speed; the truck was outrunning him. He eased up on the braking of his chute and felt the pull as his speed increased.

At ten feet, he centered himself over the landing zone, said a quick prayer and reached for the clasp that would release his parachute.

As he pulled the clasp, the truck's brake lights flashed on.

“No!” He had time only for that single thought, that single syllable, before his momentum carried him off his landing spot and into the back of the cab of the truck. He hit with a grunt, and pain exploded in his ribs, his back, his head. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt it running down his throat when he was yanked violently to the side.

Something was dragging him toward the edge of the flatbed. Abstractly, as if it were happening to someone else, he looked up and realized that one of his arms was tangled in the cords of the parachute that had not blown completely free. The other ends of the cords had dropped down beneath the truck and wrapped around an axle.

In seconds, he, too, would be pulled beneath the massive wheels.

 

Pushing her way to the front of the crowd lined up along the fence outside the airstrip, Rosemary spotted a familiar gray head and weathered face.

“Jasper? Jasper!” She waved and shouldered past a big man with binoculars trained on the sky to stand beside Zane's pilot—former pilot. “I didn't think you'd be here.”

Jasper cast a worried glance at the sky. “Damn fool kid.”

“I know. I'm worried about him, too.” She rubbed the older man's shoulder. “Can he really land a jump on the back of a speeding truck?”

Jasper clenched his fingers in the chain link when the loudspeaker barked out the jumper was away. “Yeah, he prob'ly could. It's something he's thought about doing for a long time. On a perfect day, with the right team and a lot of time spent working out the details, he's good enough to do it.”

She frowned. “I take it you don't think today's that day.”

“He threw this together too fast. They're not ready. And he's been a little…off…lately.” He kicked at the grass.

“He's had symptoms from the aneurysms?”

Jasper's gaze snapped up. “He told you?”

Rosemary nodded.

“He's been having headaches and such. It's why he ended up in the drink with you the other day. He'd never have miscalculated the burn on that parachute if he'd been feeling right.”

Rosemary felt as if she'd swallowed a stone. It sunk slowly to the pit of her stomach. “He doesn't think he'll be around long enough to get another shot at this.”

And she was beginning to wonder if he might be right.

Zane's parachute came into sight, and both she and Jasper pressed closer to the fence for the best view of the truck as it ambled down the runway. Zane pulled on his steering cables and zigged left, then right.

“Come on, kid,” Jasper grumbled. “Line 'er up.”

She put one hand over his on the chain link as Zane drifted closer to the bed of the truck. As his feet were about to touch, she held her breath and squeezed Jasper's hand until her knuckles went white.

For a second, it seemed he would land the jump perfectly, and then all hell broke loose. The truck slowed, and Zane kept going forward until he hit the back of the semi with a
thud
, and slumped to the bed of the trailer. The sound of fabric ripping could be heard even over the truck's engine, and Zane was slowly dragged toward the edge, and then disappeared underneath the behemoth vehicle.

High-pitched screams from the crowd mixed with the squeal of the truck's brakes. Before Rosemary knew what he was doing, Jasper started to scale the six-foot fence.

“Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Christ.”
He pulled Rosemary up the chain link with him.

Together they ran across the field and onto the runway. The truck had finally stopped. Trey MacAllister had gotten out of the cab and disappeared under the front wheels of the trailer. By the time Rosemary and Jasper got there, they were both breathing heavily.

“I still don't see him!” she panted. “Do you see him?”

Jasper shook his head, his face pale. A knife appeared in his hand, pulled from a sheath on his belt, and he dove under the trailer. From somewhere in the distance, Rosemary heard the wail of sirens as she ducked down after him.

The darkness disoriented her for a moment while her eyes adjusted. She smelled grease and rubber and her own fear. Her heart threatened to kick out of her chest before she was able to make out Zane on the ground, his right arm tangled in parachute cord and stretched up toward the axle. Jasper hacked at it with his knife while Trey MacAllister leaned over Zane, a hand on his chest as if to comfort him.

Rosemary knew better.

With one great lunge she shoved MacAllister back on his heels. “Get away from him!”

Trey grunted at the impact. “Hey!”

Rosemary fumbled on the ground for Zane, pulled his head into her lap. Blood smeared his face from his nose to his chin. “He can't be dead. He's not dead.”

Her hands shook so badly she couldn't find a pulse, which only increased her panic. “Please don't be dead.”

“N't dead.” Zane's weak voice was music to her ears. When she looked down, his sleepy hazel eyes were the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

Trey crawled an arm's-length closer. “You can't just cut in—”

“Get out of here!” she snapped, tightening her hold on Zane and rocking slightly. “Get out and don't ever come back!”

Jasper finally cut through the parachute cords, and lowered Zane's right arm down to this side. Then he held up the knife, the tip pointed toward Trey's chin. “The lady said, ‘Git'!”

Mumbling a curse, Trey backed away. Rosemary could hear doors slamming and the sound of boots on pavement, and knew the medics had arrived.

One corner of Zane's mouth kinked up weakly as she rocked him. “Gr'dian ang'l,” he slurred happily, looking up at her, and then his eyelids drooped closed.