My Lord's Judgment (5 page)

Maybe it was because he’d lost everything.
Maybe because, no one had
really
ever
seen
him
before. All he knew was being with Brandon felt right, and he did
not want to see the man ever look at him that way again.

As they approached the department store, Bran
turned to open the door for him and lost it again. Samael was a few
steps behind, and knew he probably resembled a penguin, or a black
duck. Arms plastered to his side as he waddled forward, shuffling
his feet to keep the stupid shoes from falling off. He could feel
the shorts wedged into the crack of his ass too, so he knew the way
he was moving was creating that ‘very fashionable look’ of raising
just the inside of the shorts, making the hem fall at an angle,
while the crotch bunched up. Lovely!

Sam glared at Bran, but he was hunched over
holding his stomach, so he didn’t see. “Hardy, har, har,” he said
dryly.

“Sorry. I’m so…” Bran looked up at him only
to break down into fits of hysteria again. This had the great
benefit of bringing his humiliation to the forefront of anyone in
the area. Heads swinging. People pointing. Everyone trying to see
what had someone roaring with laughter so hard they were
wheezing.

Maybe he should take a bow.

“I am sooo going to get you back for this.”
Samael grumbled. “I have a long memory. I promise, someday your
time will come.” But he was trying to hold back his own amusement
at the situation, and knew his lips were twitching with the
effort.

“I really am sorry.” Brandon said in a
squeak, trying to calm himself. “I can’t help it. You’re so hot,
and that makes it
so much worse
.” He quieted for a few
breaths, wiping his eyes, but before long, he let out a bark of
laughter once again. “I keep waiting for you to break into song,
and start waving your hands around your head, showing your whole
stomach to the world. Maybe we should’ve tied a knot in the front
of the shirt, under your chest.” The last few words were almost
unintelligible through the chuckling.

He couldn’t keep it in anymore, so he joined
in, chortling along. He knew he looked outrageous, and the whole
situation was so bizarre, there really was nothing else to do but
laugh.

He didn’t remember the last time he had let
himself go like this. It felt… good. Freeing. Fun.

After several long moments – when they’d both
calmed enough to function – they entered the store, heading
straight toward the shoes.

That was the best shopping trip Bran could
ever remember having. He couldn’t recall ever having so much fun
just buying clothes. They joked, poked fun at each other, pushed
one another around, and just had a grand old time.

He would never in his life, forget Samael in
that outfit. He should have taken a photo. The man was so big, so
strong and manly, that he looked even more insane because if it.
There’s Sam, all sexy combination of GQ and WrestleMania, dressed
in an outfit that says ‘hand-me-downs from my trailer trash little
sister.’ And when he walked, shuffling his feet, trying not to fall
over….
Oh god
. He still had to chuckle every time he
pictured it. Bran’s mind drifted between thinking of Tommy Boy,
‘Big man in a little coat,” and Samael wearing a belly shirt,
dancing around and singing, “It’s raining men.”

It was just too much! He thought he was going
to die laughing.

When they finally made it to the clothing
department, Sammy had made sure to point out that he liked color in
his wardrobe, gesturing to the all-black outfit Bran was rocking
and making a funny face. In response, Brandon picked out a flowery,
colorful Hawaiian shirt and handed it to him. This was quickly
tossed back, only to land on his head.

He had thought about bringing Sam to his
favorite store, Hot Topic, just to see his face, but they really
didn’t have that kind of time today. The idea of Samael wearing
guyliner, in a spiked dog collar, and with a pair of fingerless
gloves, made Bran want to purr. Not that he’d go for it.

It was just an all-around great day.

Sammy was now garbed in jeans and a blue
t-shirt that made his eyes stand out, because Bran needed another
reason to be drawn into them.
Not.

They had brought the bag with the remainder
of the new clothes back to his car, picked up Sam’s knife - because
no one can go anywhere without a shiny, bejeweled gold dagger, of
course - and went to the coffee shop to get some lunch. They were
sitting outside now, munching on some sandwiches and talking like
old friends.

Brandon had heard about this phenomenon –
where you meet someone and immediately feel like you’ve known that
person forever - but he thought it was a bunch of bull. Now that it
was happening to him, it was surreal.

“So, your father disowned you?”

“Pretty much, yes.” Samael looked sad.

“Why? I mean, I know that stuff happens
sometimes, but why did he go to that extreme.” There had to be more
to the story.

Samael was silent for a few minutes, but he
seemed to be thinking, so Brandon waited patiently.

The man finally did answer, but seemed to
choose his words very carefully. “Well. My… brother. He did some
horrible things, and blamed me for them.”

“And your dad believed him.” It wasn’t really
a question, but Sam answered anyway.

“Yes, and before I knew it, I was disavowed
and removed with nothing to my name.”

“That’s really harsh.” And it was. I mean,
jeeze. He could have at least let the guy take some clothes or
something with him.

“Yeah, well, sometimes my Father can be …
stringent.” Samael looked wary. “He always has his reasons though,
even if he is not always forthcoming with them.” There was
something Samael wasn’t saying, Brandon knew it. He didn’t think
the man was lying to him, just not giving all the deets. That was
okay, though. He had some crap in his past that he didn’t really
want aired, in all its stinking misery. So, he got it.

He did feel like he owed Sam something. After
all, he did open up. This was no longer generic conversation, about
books and music and such. This was personal, and deserved a bit of
the same in return.

“I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. My
mom died when I was ten.” He glanced up at his companion. “Car
crash. I wound up in foster care. The good thing is my foster
parents sent me to college, and helped me get scholarships to pay
for it. Then they were gone. They’d done their duty. The rest of
it…well…” Brandon focused on his half-eaten sandwich again, pulling
it apart.

“Not so good, eh?”

He shrugged. “I lived.”

“What about your father? Why did he not take
custody of you?” Samael sounded concerned. It was … nice.

“I don’t know who he is, never met him.” Bran
tried to give Sam a smile, and knew it fell flat. It sucked not
having a dad. Sucked even more the way people treated him sometimes
because of it. Like his mom was some kind of whore or something,
and then after her death, like a nobody.

“I suppose everyone has their own story,
huh?” Sam gave him a smile back, and then froze. His eyes had
flickered over Bran’s shoulder, and then flew back and stayed. He
was just staring at something.

Brandon turned to look, and before he knew
what was happening Samael was running past his field of vision,
chasing some guy. The stranger glanced back, and saw the big man
barreling toward him. His eyes widened, and he took off, pushing
people out of his way and jumping over bags and chairs, knocking a
few over in the process. He threw down a trash can behind him as he
ran, trying to block the oncoming train that was Samael. Sam just
followed, dodging and weaving, trying to avoid the obstacles in his
path.

Bran didn’t know when he’d gotten up, but he
was running in the same direction, tagging along behind some
distance. He wasn’t as good at avoiding things, and he stumbled a
few times, murmuring apologies at the irritated onlookers that he
past. He turned the corner just in time to see Sam throw the man
against the side of the building, behind the air conditioning unit
that hid them from their hips down. Samael had wedged his forearm
up against the man’s neck and had the gold dagger up to the
stranger’s jugular.

“What are you doing here, Levi?” Sam growled
at the man. Brandon slowed his pace and walked closer, enthralled
at the situation. It was like a car accident. He had to watch,
couldn’t look away.

The stranger had long, greasy brown hair, and
was lanky. He was small compared to Sammy, and his eyes
looked…dead.

“Ah, Sam old friend. How’s it hangin’?”
Instead of looking scared, the man just grinned.

Samael lifted his arm away from the neck it
had been attached to, and used his whole body to thrust it back
again, making the man choke. “Answer me! What are you doing here,
Levi? Who sent you?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He practically sang through the
rasp in his voice caused by the pressure on his larynx. “You know I
can’t tell you that. You’re not involved anymore, on either side.
Too bad. We could have used you, if you hadn’t been so damn
stubborn.” The dude was still smirking, an evil impersonation of a
smile, even though his voice sounded…well, strangled.

“You’re following me. In my book, that makes
it my business. This is the second time today that I’ve seen you.
The first time, I blew off as happenstance. It is not going to
happen again!” Samael was pissed. Bran could practically see the
smoke coming out of his ears. He pushed the knife more firmly
against the man’s neck, drawing blood. “We are going to have a
serious situation here, if you don’t start talking.”

The stranger let out a breathy laugh, but
started looking more wary. “You can’t kill me, Sam. You know you
can’t.”

Now Samael grinned. “Really? Take a look at
the dagger in my hand, and then say that again.”

The man did as he was told, and his eyes
practically popped out of his head. Hands up in the air in a
pacifying gesture, he tried once more. “Come on man. You know the
rules. You know I’m not supposed to say anything to you
anymore.”

When Sam just pushed on the man harder, he
closed his eyes and seemed to surrender. Gadreel.” He said in a
choked whisper. “Gadreel sent me to watch you. Before you ask, I
don’t know why. He didn’t tell me shit, probably in case something
like this happened.” He coughed before looking back up at his
captor, this time pleading. “I’m just supposed to watch and report
back, that’s all. I swear, man. I swear.”

The stranger’s eyes flicked to Brandon and
his face followed, that evil sneer back in place. “You!” He let out
a rough, nasty laugh. “Oh, this is rich. Just rich.”

Samael glanced at Bran too, and in that split
second of lost concentration, Sam wound up sprawled on the
pavement. The movement was too fast to see. When Bran focused back
on the stranger, he looked different. He was bigger. Much bigger.
His shirt was gone, his body and facial features slightly changed
…oh, yeah, and he had wings. Great big, black-as-midnight wings
that stretched out, fanning the air and giving the man lift. When
he was a few feet off the ground, he grinned at Bran and said,
“Your father is coming to get you.” Then he was gone.

Everything started to fade; clouds and
floaters disrupted his vision, getting whiter and whiter and
whiter, until Bran had to sit down. He could hear someone talking
to him from very far away, and then nothing.

Samael had
known that he wouldn’t be able to hold Levi once he’d broken his
restraint. Given time to change back into demon form, there was
nothing to be done. The only reason he was able to trap him in the
first place was because he was bigger and stronger in human form,
and there had been too many people around for Levi to shift out in
the open. Once he’d freed himself, he’d changed and Sam didn’t have
a snowball’s chance in hell of stopping him.

That he had a Demon Dagger had given him some
assistance in the matter. They were deadly to human and demon
alike. Blessed by God Himself, the nifty things worked better than
holy water on a vampire. If Sam’s grip would have slipped just a
bit, gone just a little deeper, the demon would’ve been no more.
However, he hadn’t intended to kill…yet. He just wanted to know
what was going on. Why was Gadreel having him followed? What the
hell had that scum meant by Brandon’s father?

Speaking of the little imp, he was out for
the count, head resting on Sam’s lap. He’d seen Bran plop down on
his butt, eyes all glassy and dazed, and knew he was shutting down.
The human mind had huge potential for greatness, but it could only
take so much before it needed to take a breather. Like a computer
with an error.
Reboot. Restart. Let’s try that again.
He
didn’t know what had done it for Brandon, the father comment or the
huge demon flying above him.

He was going with the demon. Wings had a
tendency to startle a man.

Sam gently slapped his face, saying his name
again. “Wakey, wakey, Sunshine.”

Brandon sat up straight as a board, looked at
Samael, searched around and then had a bit of a moment.

“Ohmygod, ohmyfucking God! Wings. That man
had wings. He said… he… My father? Flew away. The fucker flew!
What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?” Bran’s eyes were huge in his face
and he was panting as if he’d run a marathon. If Sam did not defuse
the situation quickly, he was going to hyperventilate and lose
consciousness again.

“Hey, it’s okay. You are safe. It’s ok…”

“Nothing about this is okay, asshole.” the
human interrupted. He was looking around like a horse ready to
bolt, eyes rolling in his head and all.

“Calm down and I shall explain.” Sam grabbed
his arm. “Bran, if you do not calm yourself, you are going to pass
out again. Breathe. That’s it. Deep slow breaths. Good, that’s
good.”