Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (36 page)

He’d been too absorbed in the desperate delight of touching her at last to take much notice…had she snapped them out while he kissed her? Ready to bite him? To take his blood?

His bones rattled cold.
To take my soul?

He wanted to be sick. Christ, he was so dumb it was a minor miracle that his sorry flesh still soiled this world. He’d actually thought she’d
liked
it.

Of course she enjoyed it.
That cynical voice taunted him.
She hungers for you. Not as a woman. As a demon’s thrall. She wants your blood. Your soul
…

No. Ridiculous. He’d felt her, tasted her, seen the fire in her eyes. What they had was real. It had to be…

He yanked his blade from Esther’s fallen body. Her blood gushed only weakly, her life force spent. He wiped the blade clean on the grass, and a faint blue flash twinkled along the edge. It meant nothing, right? Just an echo of what he’d lost.

Esther’s lush dark hair was already fading. Her wings dimmed, their coppery richness draining to lifeless pewter.
Her soul’s in paradise.
The thought clanged dully.
But her body’s just…dirt. Ashes. A bloody smear on the grass.

He’d been fond of her, once. Long ago, when they were both so innocent. That was ashes, too. He plucked a feather from Esther’s flaccid wing. It sparkled faintly in his fingers, a bitter reminder of home.

“What are you doing?” Rose watched him, fidgeting. She didn’t know what to say, how to act.

Good. See how you like it.

“None of your business.” He tucked the feather inside his armor, and retrieved his sword. It lay cold in his hand, dark, threatening. He slung it over one metal-clad shoulder, and held out his arm. “Come here.”

She edged closer, her gaze guarded but warm.

“Not for that.” He pulled her roughly against him, wrapping his arm around her waist, and his body reacted, a flush of heat that nearly staggered him. She still felt amazing. He wanted to groan, inhale her, tilt her mouth up to his. He wanted to hold her. Cherish her, keep her for his own.

Call it penance.
He looked down at her coldly, while his heart wailed bloody anguish. He was good at hiding his feelings. He’d had centuries of practice. “Hold on. We’re going back to my place. I need to do some research.”

“Like what?” Rose’s voice sounded small. Lost.

His bones ached with sorrow. “Water tunnels. They’re deep underground, but they have access valves. That’s where we’ll find your master.”

“Japheth—”

“Just don’t talk, okay?” Like it wasn’t hard enough to clear his confusion, crystallize what was important.

His fingers tightened on his sword grip. He was happy to try to flash himself. Worst thing that could happen was he’d have to walk. But the thought of flashing his weapons away chilled him to the marrow.

They won’t come back. Heaven’s already decided you’re unworthy
…

He chased the treacherous voice away. Better safe than screwed. At least this way, he could be certain he’d have cold steel. He’d need it, to kill Fluvium. And if he wanted Michael to keep his promise, Fluvium had to die. Tonight.

Anticipation tingled his blood like snowflakes. Yes. Battle, he was good at. Not this exquisite torture. So screw it. Battle it was.

Kill the demon prince…but how? His angelsteel was failing. His faith was…well, it was what it was. But he’d fought worse odds. Somehow, he’d find another way.

And when the demon’s dead, what then? Will you kill Rose, too? Like you know you should?

He squeezed his eyes shut on unexpected tears.
I can’t. She’s too precious. I gave her my word
…

But his jaw clenched, painful. This was the Apocalypse. The world didn’t care about his honor. His conscience didn’t matter a damn. All that mattered was Fluvium, and the vial, and his fragile angelic soul.

And the ugly, bittersweet ache in his heart only reminded him how perilously close he’d come to losing them all.

*   *   *

God, he was so cold.

His stained-glass gaze sliced chilly blades under Rose’s skin. His arm around her felt hard, unyielding, not giving an inch. All those frigid barriers had slammed back into place. She could practically feel the frost crackling the air. Nothing remained of that passionate creature who’d touched her, whispered her name, drowned himself in her kiss.

He’d taught her so much. Proved to her that honor was worth something, that her actions still mattered, that the decisions she made could save her soul…and now he’d turned on her.

The man was gone. The frosty warrior angel was back. And he loathed her more than ever.

“Don’t forget your promise.” Her words rang hollow. “We kill Fluvium, you take this mark off, I walk away. Agreed?”

Agreed,
whispered the demon inside her.
And then we chew his lying throat out, and feast on his flesh
…

She shivered, desperate. God, she’d so nearly fallen. To drink, to ease him into darkness, slide him inside her and drink up his soul…

She forced her aching fangs to retract. Japheth had earned better, even if killing that uppity angel bitch had frightened him away from making love to her. Damn it. Her body still ached for him, empty. In those few precious moments she’d felt…real. Alive.

Human.

Japheth flicked his distant gaze over her face. A frigid green blast of
keep away
. Even that dangerous ultraviolet glimmer had faded, leaving icy emerald that brooked no
doubt. He wouldn’t be touching her like that again anytime soon. Anytime ever.

Useless frustration clenched Rose’s fists. The disdain in that Esther woman’s eyes frothed old hatred back into her blood.
What was she to him, anyway?

His heart was so fragile, under all that ice. Had Esther hurt him, once? Bound him to her by some frightful oath? Fucked him, even? They had rules about that in heaven, most likely. They probably had to get married, or something. Fuck. Was he cheating on his angel wife with her?

Whatever.
She was glad the bitch was dead. Glad. If it left him free to find someone else.

Someone else. But not a vampire. Not Rose Harley, the demon’s slave.

Her guts sickened, like they were stuffed with rotten worms. If only she could rip the curse from her body. Ram her hand down her throat, tear the demon creature out, prove she wasn’t the monster Japheth despised.

A lump swelled hot in her throat. God, she wanted to fall on her knees, scream her guilt to heaven. Beg for just a scrap of forgiveness, if only it’d give her one more moment of his regard.

But she clenched sharp teeth, and the prayer crunched to dust.

She’d never be human again. She was cursed. What was done, was done.

You want absolution?
Japheth’s words ricocheted in her skull.
You can start by acting like you give a shit.

Fine. Screw Fluvium and his deal. Japheth had earned his life. They’d kill the demon prince, and she’d walk away. Just like that.

The hot curse-thing inside her chuckled.
How virtuous of you. If Fluvium’s dead, Japheth’s soul will earn you nothing. It’s easy to pass on lunch when you’re not hungry
…

“Agreed?” she repeated, impatient.

Japheth gave her an arctic smile, colder than midnight. “Agreed.”

CHAPTER 32

Twenty minutes later, Japheth leaned over his kitchen bench and spread out the fuzzy chart of Babylon he’d printed from his computer. “Pay attention,” he snapped over his shoulder.

“Uh. Sorry.” Rose edged to his side, flushing. His arm brushed against hers, and it tingled. Her resolve to be Rose the Ice Queen with him wasn’t going well.

Her gaze kept drawing to his strong forearms, his muscles flexing as he moved the paper so she could see. His luminous angelic skin, eerily perfect, no scars, yet…experienced. Her sex throbbed, hot. God, his wrists were…his strong, tapered fingers…

The irony blistered her throat. She’d spent the last two days seducing
him
, and now…maybe it was just because they hadn’t finished what they’d started, but she’d never in all her days been so aware of a man.

His tiniest movement mesmerized her. Her skin prickled as he moved his shoulders, silver armor sliding against skin, the soft silken rustle of his feathers. He shifted one crisp wing, and his clean and angry scent washed over her, dizzying. How was it fair that he smelled so damn fantastic?

She exhaled, hard. She didn’t want to smell him. Didn’t want to be reminded of what she’d lost…

Her attitude withered. What was this, a crush? She’d always been a one-night girl. Kick ’em out before the bed gets too warm. It wasn’t even as if they’d had mind-blowing sex…

Warmth rippled up her body, a sweet echo of his touch. Okay, so she’d had an orgasm. She usually needed a tongue between her legs for that. But Jesus, this guy had barely kissed her and she was already thinking second date…

Inwardly, she snorted at her stupid daydreams. Clearly, a second date was not happening. No-way-never with a cherry on top.
Mind on the job, girlfriend. J-Rose is going nowhere and you know it.

But the awareness that crept under her skin at the fragrant flush of his body heat insisted otherwise. Loudly.

Japheth favored her with a chilly glance. Hot night breeze swirled into his apartment through a jagged hole in the glass, and stifling Babylon summer poured in like treacle, overwhelming the air-conditioning. His damp golden hair shone in the heat, slicking on those ridiculous cheekbones. “Nice mess you made of my window,” he remarked acidly.

“Shouldn’t have locked me in, then.”

“You were supposed to stay put.”

The way he looked at her—distant, utterly restrained—chewed her nerves ragged. Fire lurked under that icy shell. She knew it. God, he was so close. His lips glistened, tempting. If she leaned just a little, she could… Mmm. Yes. Flash a few helltricks, get him under her spell. Shove him to the floor, strip him off, ease that long thick cock inside her, ride him…

Her mouth watered. Before, she’d used her magic to try stealing his soul. Now…well, it wasn’t his soul she was fantasizing about. God, yeah. His frosty ass would warm up soon enough…

“Rose?” The cold word shocked her from her daze.

She shrugged, sweating.
You can’t have him, Rose. Let it go.
“Movie mistake. No one ever stays put. You were saying?”

A few shards of a smile skipped across his face. “Water tunnels,” he said, and returned to his map. “Three of ’em, reinforced concrete, six hundred feet below the surface. They feed
into a network of pipes that supply fresh water to the whole of Babylon.” He pointed. “Bethesda Fountain is here. That’s connected to tunnel number one, under the West Side. And…” He leaned over to flip on the kitchen faucet.

No water flowed.

The faucet choked, and shuddered…and blood exploded from its mouth. It splashed the sink, clogging the drain. A fetid stink drifted.

Japheth grimaced, and shut it off. The pipes groaned in protest. “I’d call that already contaminated, wouldn’t you?”

Rose peered into the sink, disgusted. The gore reeked of curse, a mix of spoiled flesh and shit. “Gross. Is that happening all over the city?”

“I hope not. Zuul said ‘the next bit,’ right? Fluvium’s not finished. There are still two more tunnels. One there—” He indicated a line crossing the East River to Roosevelt Island. “And one there.” A circular shape encompassing downtown. Japheth frowned. “If you were a demon prince with a vial of wrath, how would you poison this system?”

“You’re asking me?”

A cruel smile. “You know him better than I do, vampire.”

Rose bristled. “You know what? I totally understand why you never get laid.”

“Do you? I doubt that. Didn’t seem like it in the park when you—”

“Don’t even go there.” She leaned over the map, trying not to think about smashing his face in. Or kissing him. Or kissing him, and then smashing his face in… She cleared her throat. “So…where does all this water come from?”

“Upstate. Bunch of reservoirs and aqueducts.”