Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (6 page)

“Oh. Yeah, I got another one. Stabbed him right through the heart—”

“Not that one.” His tone slicked cold. “The other one.”

“What other one?”

The demon’s claws dug like needles into her wrist. “Don’t lie. I can smell his filth on you. What happened?”

“Nothing.” The lie sounded false, even to her. “I just…he got away.”

“Mmm-hmm. And did he have a name, this angel-who-got-away?”

“I didn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask. But you kissed him, didn’t you?”

“Of course not—”

“Don’t bother,” he snarled in her face. “I can taste it on your heaven-reeking breath. Did you spread your legs for him? Suck his stinking cock?”

“What? No!” Her cheeks burned.

“Is my queen an angel’s whore, now? Do you know what I do to unfaithful queens?”

“It wasn’t like that!” But her belly heated. That angel’s mouth alive on hers, his rich coffee-spice scent, muscles and hot male skin and luscious golden hair… “It was an accident, okay? I didn’t mean it. He…he tricked me.”

“Ah, the truth at last,” he mocked, and traced a smoking fingertip over the crimson stains on her t-shirt. “His blood?”

She nodded, sick.

Fluvium pressed his palm to the stain and hissed a few sibilant words. Red light glimmered. Evil smoke stung her eyes, and a symbol flashed in the air like virtual neon. A
twisted blue lightning bolt, crackling with heavenly energy. An angel’s sigil.

Fluvium’s eyes lit. “Japheth! We meet again, you sorry sack of sin.” His snarling devilmagic struck like a flaming red serpent. The blue sigil writhed, glittering in pain, and dissolved with an unholy scarlet flash.

Rose blinked, dizzy. “Who?”

“Your lover-boy angel. One of the Tainted Host, Michael’s naughty little pets. I’d quite forgotten he existed. Ooh, this is gonna be
fun
!”

Golden Boy was
Tainted
?

Rose’s blood salted, indignant. Of course. That explained his faded heaven scent… But the godscum was halfway to the abyss himself, and he’d had the nerve to tell her
she
was damned?

The lying bastard. If she ever saw him again, she’d make him sorry… But unwilled, she remembered how he’d tasted—fresh, his passion bright and unsullied, innocent…

Fluvium patted her head. “Now that’s what I like. Some healthy rage! Wouldn’t want my Slayer going soft.” He tweaked her nose, then abruptly his smile died, and he shoved her away.

She stumbled, then righted herself, tugging her clothes straight. Never mind this Japheth’s so-called innocence. He’d humiliated her. “I’ll kill him, I promise,” she insisted.

“No, you won’t.” Fluvium’s whisper sliced cold.

“Come again?”

“The Demon King’s coming. I need something special.” He giggled, insane. “A gift.”

She shivered. She’d never met the Demon King. Azaroth, second to Satan himself, caretaker in hell while the boss was sidelined. Mastermind of this perverted demonic Apocalypse. Part of her still couldn’t believe all this stuff—Satan, hell, the end of the world—was real. But Fluvium spoke of Azaroth with fulsome reverence, and Zuul’s pointy face paled at the mention of his name.

Azaroth, Lord of Emptiness and Despair. He didn’t sound easily pleased…

“So I’ll get you a dead angel,” she offered, but her heart
sank. “This Japheth, or whatever his name is. I can hack off his wings for a trophy, if you want. Your king will get off on that, won’t he?”

“I like the way you think.” Malice twinkled in Fluvium’s eyes. “But what’s better than a dead angel? A
damned
one.”

Her blood chilled. Not just dead and bleeding. Damned. His soul in torment forever. She knew what that was like…

But excitement flashed, too. He was just another superior, deceitful angel, peddling salvation where there was only death and torment. He deserved his own medicine, didn’t he? And she’d seen the desire in his gaze. She could lead him there
willingly
. Just a few little tricks and he’d be hers.

Fluvium would reward her. She’d stay out of hell. And she’d have her vengeance on that skinny, dying God.

Fluvium smirked, delighted. “I see the idea pleases you.”

“Oh, sure.” Her mind raced. She could do it. This Japheth wanted her. She’d seen his gaze linger over her body, forbidden passion melting those frosty green eyes. His kiss, a sensual explosion, his body’s visceral reaction when he’d pinned her down. Repulsive…but it turned her on, too. A hot, gorgeous, straining hard-on of an angel.

Oh, yes, he wanted her all right. She shivered illicitly. What would it be like to touch him? Tempt him, flames of perdition wrapping her skin, drawing him ever closer to the edge…

“That’s my girl.” Fluvium sliced a sharp fingernail over her bottom lip. Coppery blood welled. He licked at it, and she squirmed in his embrace, disgusted…but fever swelled inside her, aching her stomach hollow. “Fight him, fuck him”—he nipped her lip hungrily—“I really don’t care. Just give him my blood, and he’ll be mine forever.”

She wanted to scrub his filth from her skin, spit it out like spoiled milk…but inside her, the curse yearned for him. “Umm…what will you give me in return?”

Another kiss, salty and hateful. “I’ll let you live, of course.”

“Is that all?” Demon deals were dangerous. She should pay attention. She had to extract his promise to save her from hell, or it’d all be for nothing… But his monstrous curse rippled deep, devouring her reason. Thirst dizzied her. She needed his
blood, that dark liquid ecstasy, burning through her, making her strong…

She groaned, opening for his rich flavor, letting him take her…

He bit her tongue, and spat the blood back into her mouth. “Don’t get cocky. You already refused me. I should flay you raw. Stake you out in the sun to starve, hmm?”

He hurled her away, and she hit the pavement, bones jarring. Groggy, she tried to raise her head. Fluvium snapped his fingers, and ash rained over her, little burning motes of hellfire that drilled into her skin and smoked like napalm.

Rose yelled, and writhed on the ground in agony. She knew he enjoyed her pain. But she couldn’t stop screaming.

Fluvium leered down at her, his black coat swirling on foul ashen breeze. “Bring me Japheth’s soul, by full moon—that’s two nights from now, so no wriggling out of it—and you get one more month on this earth. Fail me, and I promise you, by the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for hell. Are we clear?”

Defiance twisted her muscles tight. God, she wanted to sink her teeth into his face, thrust her demon-spelled knife deep into his heart…

But hell awaited her if she defied him. And no matter how she loathed this vampire life—human skin foul on her tongue, flesh crunching in her teeth, blood thick and disgusting on her lips—hell was infinitely, excruciatingly worse.

Because hell was where Bridie lived. And Bridie would never forgive her.

“Are we crystal, Rose?” Fluvium’s magical compulsion impaled her, opening her up, shoving deep like an unwelcome lover. “Or must I remind you who your master is?”

“I promise!” The scream flayed her throat bloody. But the humiliation hurt worse, a rusty brand in her misbegotten soul. “I promise, master…”

Fluvium sniffed, and vanished.

Abruptly, the pain ceased. Ash rained like gritty snowflakes, the remnants of his magic. Rose’s pockmarked skin hissed and healed, and she stumbled to her feet, disoriented.
Screw him.

But she knew what she had to do. Seduce this Tainted angel. Relish her revenge. Stay out of hell. Everybody wins.

Her lost conscience twanged. Killing an angel? An easy mark. But condemning another person to eternal damnation…

She brushed the qualm away, desperate.
Fuck it.
The vampire hunger still screamed in her blood. She needed strength. First, she’d feed. Find some unsuspecting human, drink what she needed to survive, let them wander off dizzy and disoriented.

And then, she’d hunt this Japheth down, and make him hers. Lure him into her warm dark lair and rip his innocent ass to shreds.

Determined, Rose stretched like a cat. She wrapped her fingers around her knife’s hilt, working up courage. The demon-spelled silver cooled her palm, comforting, and she exulted, lifting her face to the greedy moon.

The bloodstained light spilled over her, energizing. She was a powerful seductress, a dark and splendid creature of the night. God hated her. Might as well take as many of heaven’s slaves down with her as she could.

And bringing this one down—this handsome golden liar, with his fuck-you-hellspawn attitude and haughty emerald eyes—would be a doubly sweet pleasure.

CHAPTER 4

Japheth shouldered through the glossy nightclub crowd. The scent of sweat and chemical-drenched sex hung in a damp cloud. Dancers jostled him, lithe flesh exposed, leather and latex and perfumed rainbow hair. Electric music screeched and pounded. Nineties retro, Dash called it. Japheth called it a headache.

But at least it was emotionless, this empty electric throb. Real music was dangerous. He remembered watching in tears on the edge of his musty velvet seat as Mozart conducted
Don Giovanni
in Prague, the composer wan with latent illness but still transported to some eerie surrogate heaven by his creation. Years later, hidden behind a curtain in an ornate palazzo above San Marco, he’d listened transfixed to Signor Paganini playing Vivaldi, alone and heartrending, spilling out his tortured soul to the uncaring darkness. No devil inside him, Japheth had confirmed later for his masters. Just talent and misery, an unearthly gift in an all-too-earthly body.

Lately, he’d just avoided it. He’d played the piano, years ago, an excellent way to sharpen discipline and hone his fine motor skills. He’d spent hours repeating exercises, perfecting scales, learning Bach inventions and Beethoven sonatas by heart. But the music played tricks in his empty soulspace,
moved him to laughter or tears or violent passion. He got too emotionally involved. Better to let it be.

A woman stumbled into him on too-high heels. Her raspberry vodka splashed his chest. She giggled, pleasantly tipsy. “Fuck. I’m so sorry…” Her eyes glazed over, a dazzled double-take. “Oh. Umm…wow. I really am sorry. Can I get you another…?”

“It’s okay.” Japheth forced a quick, cold smile. He’d put on his human disguise, which meant his wings vanished, and his glittering colors faded to a more acceptable human level. But he was still bigger than everyone else. Blonder, eyes brighter, skin more luminous. And he hadn’t bothered to flash home first to rinse his hair or change out of his bloodstained armor.

Still stood out like a dog’s balls, in fact. He’d set off the metal detector at the entrance, and the security guys had waved him through anyway. His warrior’s hackles lifted. Morons. Like he wouldn’t kill them all in an eye blink if the war demanded it…but in Babylon at the End of Days,
angel
was right up there with
rock star
or
celebrity chef
. He could do anything, go anywhere.

Have anyone.

And this woman gazed up at him, raptly fascinated. Japheth shifted, awkward, trying not to glow or smell nice or whatever the trick was. Dash was right: girls liked angels. Some of the boys, too. If you wanted attention, Babylon in mid-Apocalypse was your own little private heaven.

Japheth didn’t want attention. He just wanted to kill demons, and go home.

The woman—a girl, in truth—fidgeted, twirling a brown curl with one purple nail. She had long coltish legs and a skirt that barely covered her butt. She flirted at him through thick sparkly lashes, and sipped on her straw. “Listen, can I make it up to you? You wanna dance?”

Japheth sighed coldly. He could hear her heartbeat fluttering, swift like a bird’s. Smell her scent, alcohol and feminine perfume, her skin’s warm musky flavor.
Easy game,
Dashiel or Trillium or any of the others would say. Dash would flirt, of course, make her feel like a princess with his rough-edged
charm. Trill would drag her to the dance floor, make her breathless and promptly forget her for the next one. Ariel would whisper something hot and filthy in her ear and coax her away for a quick screw against the bathroom door.