Good Side of Sin (22 page)

I knew who it was—even before Ethan screamed out his name.

“Dad!”

Troy caught Ethan around the waist and slung him back into Joshua’s arms when he tried to bail off the porch after his father.

I turned and waited for Ethan to make eye contact with me. “We’ll do everything we can to get him back, Ethan, but, until we know what we are up against, it’s not wise to try. I don’t think she will kill him. She wants you, and right now, your father is the only thing she has to lure you in. If she gets her hands on you, we will all die; the whole of humanity will belong to Lucifer. God chose you for a reason. I have to believe it’s because you have a good heart and choose to make good decisions. If you really feel that we can defeat the demon now and save your dad, then we will all step over that protection barrier and do our damnedest to make that happen. But… if you have even the slightest doubt, then we must wait.” I stood there a long moment and let everything I had said soak into his mind. “What’s it going to be, Ethan? Do we fight tonight?”

He swallowed hard, and looked out across the darkness at the smiling fiend that held his father’s life in her hands. Ethan’s eyes were shimmering as he blew out a heavy breath, then he turned and walked back into the house without saying a word.

“Oh, thank God,” I said as I exhaled the breath I had been holding.

Isaiah patted me on the back. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Ethan had never cried—well, not that he could remember, and he remembered a lot. Memories from his past flooded into his mind and threatened to choke the life out of him. He remembered needles and odd smells and feeling funny from just being in the same room with whatever substance his birth mother decided to use that day to blow her mind apart.

His dad hadn’t always been worthless. There had been a time in Ethan’s life that he remembered the man had been very strong and loving and liked to play catch and teach him things a lot of kids took for granted. Ethan had never taken those moments for granted, and those were the moments that kept him going for them both. He had prayed every day that the man who loved his son would come back to him from wherever he’d hidden himself in his own head.

Ethan knew his dad’s wife wasn’t coming back, nor did he want her to. She had been the reason his dad had fallen into a deep depression and started drinking and gambling in the first place. How else was he supposed to get over the fact that he’d discovered his wife was a whore that used cocaine to mentally escape from the man she had decided to marry and the child she had chosen to have?

People change every day. Some just don’t change for the better. Ethan knew that, but he had never given up hope that his dad would choose to change his mind about what was more important to him. He had never given up, but… that—that creature had taken the choice from him now.

What the fuck was she? he wondered, wanting really bad to punch something.

As if on cue, the big guy with blood-red hair stepped into Ethan’s line of sight. “We have a gym. You look like you need to let off some steam.” He jerked his head to the side, and then offered his big hand. “C’mon. I could use a spotter.”

Ethan’s eyebrows popped.
A spotter?
He looked down at his one-eighty-five self, and then up to the nearly seven foot tall monster of a man with the deep scar running down the left side of his face, and wondered why he would pick him; it was obvious the guy could bench press at least two of him. If for some reason he actually needed help, Ethan knew he wasn’t going to be able to give him any.

Ethan’s jaw locked tight as he thought about that woman with her red hair flying up around her head and with her fingers closed tightly around his dad’s throat. All of a sudden, he knew he could lift a car with one hand if one got in his way to kill the bitch.

He met Baddon’s serious eyes with a pair of his own, and then took the massive hand that was offered out to him. “I can spot you.”

Baddon pulled him to his feet with a broad smile, and then let go and led the way to the gym room. Ethan was amazed by how big the house was. They passed room after room, some decorated with extravagant art and colors and some more masculine and to more of a man’s taste. He paused and peeked his head into a room filled with books, and his first thought was of Emma. He’d noticed a rather large bookshelf at the end of her hallway, so crammed full of paperbacks and hardbacks that some were neatly stacked on the floor in front of it.

“You like to read?” Baddon asked, startling him out of his daydream.

Ethan shook his head as he smiled. “Uh, no—but I think Emma does.”

The fire-engine eyebrows disappeared into Baddon’s hairline. “Your girlfriend?”

Ethan chuckled. “Shit, I wish. But, no. I think you know her as Cross. She’s the, uh… the other human—the one with the gun.”

Baddon’s expression turned to knowing as he nodded once. “She know?”

Ethan shook his head and blew a breath out through puffed out cheeks.

“I see. I guess you have more than one reason to hit the gym then, eh?”

He only nodded, so Baddon turned and led the way down a long corridor, and then turned left, immediately made another left and opened a door. He flipped on a light as he led Ethan into the massive room.

Ethan’s mouth fell agape as he took it all in. The room had to have been ten times as big as his apartment, easy. There were treadmills, exercise bikes, ellipticals, all kinds of free weights and weight machines, benches and steppers, punching bags, and even a freaking boxing ring.

“Wanna go a round or two?” Baddon asked, and Ethan shot him a look of horror when he noticed the guy was pointing to the ring. Baddon laughed. “Maybe you’d better stick to something that doesn’t hit back.” He tossed Ethan a pair of gloves, and then pointed toward the punching bag. “Your mission: kill it. I’ll be over here with the weights.” Baddon winked, and then walked to his destination.

I guess he really didn’t need a spotter after all,
Ethan thought as he concentrated on pulling the gloves on, then strapping the Velcro in place. He glanced up at the guy when he grunted. Ethan gasped and nearly fell over a line of barbells behind him when he noticed the rack of weights on the bar. The steel bar was bowed nearly in a ‘U’ shape and there were at least five hundred pounds hanging on each end of it.
That’s half a ton, if the guy isn’t using Styrofoam weights to screw with my head,
he thought.

Ethan thought briefly about ripping the gloves off and running from the room, the house, the city, but then the image of that thing with her hand around his dad’s throat popped into his head and he made a beeline for the bag hanging from the board and chain. Nobody in this house had tried to hurt him so far; they had only sworn to protect him and Emma, and they had told him that they would try to get his dad back to him alive. For some strange reason, he believed them… or he wanted to.

I was convinced the demon wouldn’t hurt Ethan’s dad. That’s why I made the decision to usher everyone into the house and ignore Lucifer’s minion. She would need him for a hostage to get what she really wanted: Ethan. His dad was the only thing she had to bargain with. I hoped.

Isaiah had agreed with me, saying through my own thoughts,
“If she does kill him, there is nothing we could have done to prevent it. Don’t trouble yourself with guilt that is not in your power to avoid. Our mission is saving Heaven, and Ethan is the key to that. It is her job to distract you from your mission. Do not let her.”

I figured, if I took advice from anyone, an archangel would be my best bet, so I pushed everyone inside and even grabbed the ill Thoros, handing him over to Troy to be put to bed while I set Phoebe and Joshua to calming down the irate agent, again. The chick was making me want a shot of something strong, and I didn’t even drink.

Everyone was making their way back to the sleeping arrangements they’d had before all the commotion with the demon got everybody riled up, and I realized that I didn’t know where they had placed me, if they had even placed me anywhere.

I watched as Phoebe and the agent walked up the stairs and disappeared around the corner to the left, and then Fallis as he hefted an armload of pillows and blankets into the living area and then handed them over to Joshua and Marcus. I suppose they were occupying the two couches in there.

I knew that, more than likely, someone had assigned me to a bed of my own, but just failed to tell me where it was located. I wasn’t going to ask questions to find out if that was true or not. I knew where I was sleeping.

Before I took my first step on the bottom stair, I heard Isaiah clear his throat. I stopped.

“You did very well tonight, Josselyn. I am very proud of you for keeping your cool and not giving in to your hot-headed instincts. We both know there is a time and place for that; tonight was not one of those times.”

I sighed, and then turned to give him a grave look. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Head Guardian.”

His lips turned up slightly. “Your head may not, but your heart does. Don’t ever doubt it.” He turned his attention to the top of the stairs where Troy was walking down toward us. “I assume all is well with the young prince?” Isaiah asked him.

Troy smiled brightly at the archangel. “All tucked in like a wee lamb.” He glanced at me and winked. “I’m sure he could use a bedtime story or a lullaby. Care tae fill in fer me on that wan, Jossel?”

I dropped my gaze to my feet as I ascended the stairs. “I think I can handle that,” I said and heard both men chuckle as I left their sight.

Rubbing my damp palms on my breeches, I almost turned away from Thoros’ door and went to find a closet to sleep in. What the hell was I doing? He didn’t even want me.

Just before I turned to go, I heard my name being spoken from inside the room. I froze and put my ear to the door, refusing to breathe, afraid I would miss it if it happened again. Had I imagined it?

“Josselyn, stop standing in the hall and come inside.”

Damn! Isaiah must have known what difficulty I was having with my courage and told Thoros what I was doing. He must feel obligated to invite me in now.
Wonderful.
I would just tell him I was checking up on him and then go in search of a bed to sleep in alone.

Placing my hand on the doorknob, I took in a deep breath before entering his chamber. The room was dimly lit. I had smelled rain on the air and knew there would be no moon tonight.

The bedside lamp came on, illuminating the table it sat on and the immediate area around it, including the bed that Thoros was lying in, his arm still extended across his perfect chest to the pull-chain of the lamp. I gulped. I’d have to tell Michelangelo that I knew of another model for him to sculpt.

“Josselyn? Is there something wrong?” Anxious now, he went to throw the comforter from his lower body, so he could get out of bed and come to me, but I held out my hands in a panic.

“I’m fine, Thoros! Really, I am. Please… just stay where you are. I—I only came to make sure you—”

“Why are you lying? I thought you told me once that angels couldn’t lie, but you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it now.”

My head whipped up and my eyes locked on him. He wasn’t angry; it was more of a curious look with his head cocked to the side and his eyebrows drawn together, as if he was in deep thought about why I was really standing twenty feet away from him and lying about why I was in his room.

I looked away again, heat rushing up my neck and blistering my cheeks red.

“Will you come here, please?”

I took in a deep breath and found that my feet were already moving toward him, like they knew their destination, even if I didn’t.

Without looking at him, I finished my lie that he had interrupted, “I just came to make sure that you were all right. I feel terrible that you had to learn through my thoughts of why the demon was using you. If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to be right beside you throwing up—”

“But you weren’t. And that’s because you had a job to do. You did that job without fail. Heaven won this round and will stand to fight another day. You are much stronger than I will ever be.”

My eyes grew wide in disbelief. “Why, you are absurd to even think that! You are one of the strongest willed—”

“You saved me—”

“Isaiah saved you—”

My words froze in my throat when he threw the comforter from his body and walked to me. My lower lip trembled and I fought to control myself from visibly shaking. He wasn’t touching me, but he was so close, and oh, how I craved for him to reach out and make this easy for me.

“The truth,” he whispered, and my breath hitched. “Why did you come to my room, Josselyn?”

Easy just flew out the window. I couldn’t say it out loud. Looking at his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t giving anything away. I didn’t know if he already knew why I was standing here and just wanted to hear me say it or if he expected me to tell him something else. I couldn’t read him at all. The only thing I knew was that I wanted him to touch me, but I was afraid he would reject me again if I told him that. It would be a long trip to Limbo and back if he really had no interest in me, but he knew that I did in him.

“Josselyn?” he whispered, and I melted at the sound of his voice.

I settled for a question instead of an answer. “Why do your actions and your words not say the same thing?”

The breath blew out of his mouth quick, like someone had punched him in the stomach, and then he took a step back and blinked down at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your eyes tell me that you do.”

He was silent for a moment, and then he touched my arm and ran his hand up to my shoulder, then my neck, and finally rested his palm on my cheek. I closed my eyes and turned into it, bringing my hand up to place over his when he tensed and tried to pull away.

“Tell me, Thoros,” I pleaded in a whisper.

“Why? It will do nothing but cause both of us pain. Haven’t I put you through enough, Josselyn?”

I braced myself for the rejection I knew was coming, but tried not to let it show in my body language or words how scared I was to hear him tell me that I was just another girl to him, just another game he’d played to see if he could win. Right then I wanted his touch so badly that I wasn’t sure I would have left if he’d said just that. I think I would have happily given him the victory and not felt a bit ashamed.