Jude; The Fallen (The Fallen Series, Book 2) (3 page)

“Who the fuck knows?” Jude grunted. “And speaking of fucking, get fucking laid, Dom.”

Domniel tilted his head, the blank gaze unnerving without the shades, and tightened his jaw. “You first.”

Jude ignored the warning signals as he continued, “It’s been three months since you’ve gone fishing. Shit, look at you.” A large hand waved in Domniel’s direction. “You’re a fucking mess, brother. You need to pop one off, stat. If you’re low on cash, fuck, I’ll spot you.”

Mordecai sighed from the sidelines. “Seriously, Jude, I’m deaf and
I
wish you would shut the fuck up. Leave him alone. We’ve got better shit to do than to stand around while you ride around on your unicorn. Let’s find the other demon and get the hell out of here.” He frowned and rubbed one hand over his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

Domniel sneered, a flash of white against the sticky redness of his skin. He pointed one of the blades at them, his face tired, and said, “You know what? Get fucked, Jude. So what if it’s been three months since I got laid? Is that really any of your goddamned business? Butt. The. Fuck. Out.”

The whisper of something falling caused Domniel to jerk, the blade leaving his hand to hit the tumbling object. It landed with a heavy thud. The scent of sulfur was muted, as if it was dried, and another smell wafted up from the body. Lucius eyed it warily. It was almost mummy-like, skin desiccated and peeled away from its face, its mouth wide open, displaying all its teeth. The demon’s corpse was definitely a problem.

“Lige, Cai, go check up top for anyone else,” Lucius said. “And for the love of Christ, Dom. Put the damn knife down.”

Chapter Two

The living room was quiet, save for the sound of breathing, and the occasional rasp of paper as Elijah and Mordecai flipped through their books. Lucius and Persephone reclined in a tangle of limbs on one sofa, relaxed in a happy state of contentment. Jude was folded into a club chair on the opposite side of the room, eyes shut as he dozed. Beneath him on the floor, Domniel lay against the front of the upholstered chair. He rested quietly, soaking in the proximity, but not quite touching the big angel’s frame. In the middle of the room, underneath the coffee table, a small, black and gray bundle of fur snored with little whuffs of breath. Princess, as Persephone had introduced the badger, seemed oblivious to the addition of people into the house.

The serenity of the scene soon erupted into chaos as a growing clatter of noise drifted in from outside. The sound of engines was sharp and stuttered, overshadowed by the larger din of drumming.

Persephone perked up with a wide smile on her face as a horrified Winston tore through the room to the front door.

“No, no, no!” he shouted, his normally placid face florid with unwanted excitement. “She can’t be here! Mistress Coriander said they were never to return! The lawn! The gardens! They’re murder on my flowerbeds!”

The angels snorted awake as Persephone gasped and poked at her lover. “Lucius, come on! She’s here!”

“Who’s here?” he grumbled, getting to his feet.

The butler pulled the heavy double doors open and groaned as sunlight spilled into the living room. “Oh no,” he cried, looking out at the gravel drive. “Miss Persephone, stop her! They can’t-they just can’t!”

Persephone laughed, and shot past Lucius as the other angels moved in step behind him to see what waited beyond the front door. Persephone’s laughter was lost in the noise coming from outside, and she gripped Winston’s shoulders from behind, shaking him gently.

“It’s just Teir, Winston. And a few of her mates.” She ran out the door and down the drive, arms wide open in invitation, calling out over the raucous sound of Celtic music. “Teraslynn! You’re back!”

Four large, beat-up VW vans rolled into the drive, garishly painted with Celtic symbols in bright, mismatched colors. The doors opened, and multitudes of people spilled out onto the lawn, causing the butler to emit a high-pitched squeak of disapproval.

“What is it, Winston? Why the commotion? Who is it?” Lucius asked.

The butler stammered, but finally edged out, “Miss Teraslynn. Mistress Coriander and Miss Persephone’s sister.” He huffed, straightening his waistcoat before stomping off. “I’ve got to stop them! They’ll ruin the grass!”

Figures danced their way across the drive, avoiding the harried butler and his waving arms, spreading out to the front yard to lay blankets and bags on the grass. They moved with a frenetic grace, laughing, chattering, and singing, while others unpacked the vans. One figure from the first van emerged, tall and regal, even with green streaks through her blond hair, her expression lighting up as she caught sight of Persephone running toward her.

The two women caught each other up in a fierce hug, taking turns spinning each other around and laughing like children. Teraslynn was a good head taller than her petite counterpart, long and lean in a blousy, thin shirt that hung off of one milky shoulder. Her legs were graceful and coltish, wrapped in soft green leggings with leather boots that laced up to the knee. Strands of bells were attached to the laces, jingling noisily as she and Persephone reunited.

It was loud and chaotic, and the angels stood in the doorway, mouths agape like the butler, while Domniel clapped his hands over his ears.

“What’s all this racket? I was napping, for fuck’s sake,” the blind angel complained.

“Another sister?” Jude exclaimed. “Christ, how many are there?”

Lucius shook his head as he stared at Persephone’s smiling face. “I don’t know, bro. But I don’t think he’s the one you need to ask.”

Winston’s hand trembled as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He was
very
unhappy. They all thought he wouldn’t do it, that he could not get his mistress to come home to deal with all these…mongrels. He cradled a bright red peony in his other hand as he flipped his phone open and pressed the power button. His peonies.
The animals.
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. She had to come home. She had to.

Coriander’s head lifted, her eyes instantly covered in soap suds as she patted around the counter top for her phone, which warbled out a tinny version of Nickelback’s “Hero”. Finally, after several moments, she realized her boob was vibrating and shoved a wet hand into her cleavage.

“What, Winston?”

The sounds of sniffling were the only thing on the other end of the phone before Winston said, “They did it, madam. You should come home immediately.”

“I’m on a dig, Winston. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about
them
. They’re here. They have positively destroyed, no, annihilated my gardens! My grass, my lawn, the fountains, the roses, my
award-winning peonies
! All of it! Destroyed!”

She waited for his hysterics to pass. “Your peonies? Really? Exactly what are you talking about?”

“That herd of Irish mongrels that your foul-mouthed cow of a drunken sister has deposited here!” he shrieked.

Coriander frowned. “Teir’s there?” He could mean no other by the bovine reference, since the time she got drunk and ate all the bread in Coriander’s house. Winston still shuddered at her chewing. She could already hear her sister’s bells as she said, “Fine. Alex and I will stop for Ash and then we’ll be home. You can handle them until then. You’ve done it before. Just think of Keith Richards on a binge and you’ll be fine.”

His tone was imperious. “Absolutely not! I will quit before I deal with the garden-destroying wild pigs and your booze-swilling angelic lot-“

“Wait.” Coriander’s frown deepened into a scowl. Her sisters always had an open invitation, but there shouldn’t be anyone else at her place. “Who is in residence, Winston?” As she listened to Winston sob his way through the listing of everyone at her house, Coriander’s eyes narrowed, her hand shook as it clenched the phone, and her lips tightened into a fine line. Persephone was dead, and so was Teraslynn for hurting her favorite butler’s peonies.

She slammed the wet phone onto the bathroom counter and yelled out into the bedroom, “Alex! Call your mother! We’re getting Ash and going home! And I’m murdering two of my sisters!”

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any louder, the front door opened and Coriander walked through. Jude watched as the heated argument in the living room between Persephone, Teraslynn, and Winston shifted from shouting about peonies, common decency, and tolerance, to an ear-splitting cacophony of squealing, laughing, and giggling. The butler immediately broke from the chaos and scuttled to the front door, taking Coriander’s bags as her sisters scooped her into a giant three-way hug.

Two more figures emerged in the doorway, a tall, tanned, dark-haired man, and a small girl clutching a sparkly, green stuffed dragon. His stomach hit the floor as he stared at the child. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, but it was the combination of features that stopped him cold. Her long, red hair curled into a familiar fashion, and her green eyes looked back at him with a cool appraisal he had seen before. She was fine boned and lithe, her frame so similar to the good-looking man standing beside her. This was Coriander’s child. And the dark-haired stranger looking way too at ease in her foyer had to be the father.
Fuck.

The squealing continued for a minute before Coriander extricated herself and glared at her sisters. “This is not a Holiday Inn, ladies! Now what the hell are you all doing here?”

The dark-haired man cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Coriander before glancing down at the girl.

“Right. Ash is here. Watch your mouths,” Coriander said. Reaching back for the girl, she continued, “Ashtiru, sweetie, be polite. Say hello to your Aunt Sephie and Aunt Teir.”

The little girl’s lips parted in a wide smile so much like Coriander’s, Jude’s breath caught in his throat. She rushed from her father’s side, and her aunts scooped her up for another round of hugging.

Coriander turned to face him, and her glance cut past him to Lucius, Mordecai, and Elijah. She frowned. “Where’s Dominick?”

“It’s Domniel,” Lucius said. “He’s in the pool house. He doesn’t come down much.”

She didn’t reply, but turned to the man at the door. “Are you coming in or what? I told you I don’t care if you stay, but Ash would probably like you to be here for a few days.”

“Then I’ll stay.” His Greek accent was sharp and thick, but the words were soft. “Besides,” he glanced at the angels, “you haven’t introduced me to your friends.”