Soul Surrender (19 page)

R
hea was luckily in her same spot. Near the giant soda bottle, standing behind a small Plexiglas box of handmade jewelry. I had seen her a handful of times since speaking with her a year or so ago.

She was an older woman—maybe in her late forties or early fifties. Leathery skin from far too much time in a tanning bed wrinkled around kind, blue eyes. “Rhea,” I said, walking up with a smile. “How are you?”

She beamed back, hands on her hips and a giant straw hat covering brittle, brassy red hair. “Hello, my friend. It's been too long. How are—oh!” She stepped back, eyes wide, and glanced me up and down, taking extra time around my shoulders and torso.

I swallowed, glancing nervously back at Drew. “Rhea? You okay?”

“You're different. Your aura,” she whispered. Finally her eyes stilled onto mine. She cleared her throat and both literally and figuratively shook the moment off. “I apologize, my friend. What can I do for you?”

“Rhea—I need to know . . . what do you see?”

She swallowed, nibbling the middle of her upper lip. “I don't know for sure. Just—something unusual. As though your purpose here on Earth has changed.”

To my knowledge, Rhea didn't know what I was exactly . . . but she knew I was something from Hell that had a lot of power.

“Changed for the good? Or bad?”

She shrugged and lifted her eyebrows. “What
is
good and bad but words made by humans?”

I smiled and shook my head. See? That's what I liked about Rhea.

Drew cleared his throat from behind me. “Oh! Right, sorry. Rhea, this is my friend, Drew.” I stepped out of the way, and Drew extended a hand to her.

She took it but lifted her chin, looking down on him despite the fact that his height towered over hers. She visibly shivered at his touch, and the hairs on her arm stood at attention, lifting as though we were in the middle of a blizzard as opposed to Vegas's blistering summer heat.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “You've lost your way.” She stated it simply, releasing his hand.

“Excuse me?” Drew glanced at me, then looked back at her.

“You deny it?” She folded her arms across her sagging breasts. The pastel linen dress wrinkled under her forearms. It was the sort of dress they sold at beach-hippie stores. Which fit with her, well, hippie-like personality.

Drew hooked his thumbs into his pockets and held her stare. “I don't.”

She nodded. “Good. That is the first step to redemption.” Snapping out of her daze once more, she turned again to me. “So. What can I do for you? This looks like more than the perfunctory jewelry buying visit you usually make.”

I smiled, and on a deep breath began. “You're right. Remember the first time we met? I was with a man—an angry-looking guy with black hair in a ponytail?”

“Yes, I remember him vaguely.” She tapped her temple. “The ol' memory isn't what it used to be, but the description is familiar.”

“Well.” I started again with another glance to Drew. “He's missing. And we believe it was a human summoner . . .” I swallowed and let the silence finish the sentence for me.

She uncrossed her arms slowly. “Ah,” she said after a moment. “And you heard that along with clairvoyance and aura readings, that I can do summonings?”

“Yes—I just had some . . . questions for you.”

“I did not summon your friend,” she stated quickly, and turned to fiddle with her jewelry, straightening pieces that didn't need arranging at all.

“I know that, Rhea,” I said softly.

“Do you?” She arched an eyebrow but didn't look up.

“Yes. I just wanted to ask you some questions about the process.”

On a deep breath, she answered with the exhale. “Ah.”

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the list Buckley had given me and unfolded it. “We were given this list of names . . . people who might be responsible for my friend's disappearance.”

She held out a hand. “Let me see.”

I set the paper in her palm, and she slipped a cheap pair of reading glasses onto the edge of her nose. She grabbed a pen from her table and put X's next to a few names. “David is out of the country. Backpacking in Europe. Clara, too.” She dropped her chin to her chest and looked at us from over the rim of her glasses. “They are a couple,” she added with wide eyes. As if this were juicy gossip we absolutely needed to know. Sliding her glasses back into place, she returned once more to the list.

“Why does it matter if they are in the area?” Drew asked.

Rhea answered him without looking up. “Summonings by humans require that we be in the area of the demon. Only wildly powerful witches and sorcerers can summon out of their area and out of the pentagram. Most of us are stuck conforming to location.”

“What do you mean, the pentagram?”

With this question, she paused, taking the moment to look up at us again. “You really know very little about the world in which you live, don't you?” She gestured to Drew. “I expect this from him . . . but not you.”

“Hey.” It was the weirdest insult I'd gotten in a while. And I didn't like that this leathery human made me feel so inadequate. “I'm very ‘live and let live.' I had no use for this sort of knowledge until now.”

She tilted her head, rolling her eyes. “I suppose that's as good an excuse as any.” Turning the paper over, she drew an upside-down pentagram. “Summonings can take place in only one of five points for humans. If you place the pentagram over a map of the city, you will find the five locations in which a human could have performed one.” She studied the list one more time, marking a couple of other names before handing it back to me.

“Here,” she said. “The two that I circled are your best bets. If they turn up zero, then try the rest. The ones with X's are either out of the area or dead.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the list from her dry hands.

“One more thing. You were missing a name. Maybe because he's fairly new to the circle. I added him at the bottom.”

I gasped, clenching the paper in my fist and almost ripping the damn thing. The newest, last name on the list, written in a different hand than Buckley's scribble, was Damien Kane.

D
rew's hands rubbed circles over my back as stars flooded my vision. Damien? Again? First with the whole being the son of Carman thing—and now this? He was like the world's best secret keeper. That son of a bitch! I was going to kill him!

“Monica.” Drew's voice was soft, concerned. “We need that list. Be careful.”

I glanced down at my fists, and balled between my white knuckles was our list of names. I unwrinkled the paper, smoothing the crinkles with my palm. “Shit. Sorry,” I muttered.

“I take it that you know Damien, then?” Rhea asked.

I shook my head. “I thought I did.”

“Summoners are not bad people. You think I am bad because I can call upon demons?” she whispered with a quick glance around at her peers.

I shook my head. “No, Rhea. Of course not. But you and I aren't sleeping together. And you aren't keeping information from me.”

Drew tensed from beside me.

“Thanks again,” I added, and turned back for the car. Drew followed silently.

The drive back to the café was pretty quiet. “Drew, do you mind if I drop you off? We can finish the list later. Or tomorrow.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Sure. Want me to take Grayson home? Keep an eye on him?”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

I flopped back into my seat, reclining it just a tad more. It might not have been the most ideal time to relax, but I needed to release the tension. Both here in the car and in my heart.

With another leveled glance at Drew, I found his eyes locked on me. They glistened like the top of a lake at sunset, shimmering with emotions that I couldn't quite read. There was a time I could have discerned and interpreted that look immediately. These days, I had no idea.

“What?” I said, switching my attention between him and the road.

He didn't answer, but his already stiff shoulders clenched into a slab of muscles. “Nothing.” He turned to the window, propping an elbow on the edge.

“Seriously?” I snapped, and quickly lowered my voice back to a calm state. “This can't be ‘nothing.' In the past six months you discovered that your angel girlfriend died saving a sex demon and that almost your entire group of friends is immortal in some way. Add on top of that, you've been possessed by Hell knows how many demo—”

“Yes, okay?” Drew shouted. “Yes, it's something. It's something that the woman I saw myself spending a lifetime with will kill me every time we make love. It's something that everyone I care about has been lying to me for God knows how long. But this vessel thing? That's nothing in comparison to watching you with other men for years. Watching as every passing fuck in the bathroom or random date didn't work out. Watching. Waiting. And hoping for the day you'd realize that you could have more and be more than the girl who takes off her clothes for money.” He panted, swallowing to lubricate a dry throat before continuing.

Betraying tears brimmed the edges of my eyes. “Well, now you know why I can't be.”

“Bullshit,” he growled. “You are so stuck in your box of what good and evil is, you can't step outside for one second to find a way to make this work.”

I slammed the brakes, swerving onto the shoulder. Luckily, we were already on the back roads and no one was behind me. I snapped open my seat belt, curling my legs under me, and turned to face Drew.

“You want to do this? Let's do it for real, then, shall we?”

“What are you talking about?” Drew's nostrils flared.

“Stop pussyfooting around the subject. Say what you want to say!”

Drew held up his hands and looked around the car as if he had an audience. “I'm sorry, was I not speaking English? I said exactly what I meant just now. You are a coward, Monica Lamb. And it's disappointing. I used to think you were so brave.”

Heat flared in my face, and my voice dropped to a dangerously low volume. “You're saying that it's not brave to ignore my feelings for you? To save you from death and a life of corruption?”

Drew snorted and unbuckled his seat belt, leaning in closer. “Again—I call bullshit. Look what good those years of chastity did us. I'm now a bounty hunter for the devil and you're
still
not able to be with me. Or so you claim. So much for living a life void of corruption, huh?”

I dropped my face into my hands, rubbing circles over my temples. “I don't even know how to talk to you right now. I don't know how else to fucking say it, Drew. I can't sleep with you. How can we have a healthy relationship without a sex life? How can we have any relationship when you know that I'm going to have to run off and fuck other men to get power?” My throat tightened—if that was even true anymore. If I could indeed give life as well as take it, that meant I had no more excuses to avoid Drew.

Drew's face went tight. “You manage it with Damien,” he whispered.

Bam
. Right hook to the kidney. “That's different,” I answered. “I don't kill him with each night together.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn't even
try
. We could have made it work. Sex isn't everything. . . .”

“Maybe for you it isn't.” The bitter laugh escaped along with one errant tear. Fuck. I wiped it with the back of my hand.

“You know what I don't understand?” Drew twisted his hands in his lap before leaning against the window once more. “I should hate you. I should never want to see you again. And yet, every morning—you're the one I wake up thinking about. You're the woman I can't wait to see. I should hate you . . . but I can't stop loving you.” He ran a hand down his face with another sad chuckle. “Which in turn makes me hate myself a little.” His voice was trembling dangerously—like a shaking hand holding a gun for the first time ever.

And before I knew what either of us was doing, Drew was leaning over the parking break with one hand on the console and the other on the headrest. His lips captured mine, searing my heart—branding my soul as his.

And I kissed him back. It was just Drew. And just me. Molding into one with a kiss that wasn't sweet but wasn't feral like two cats in heat. No, it was something entirely its own. And desire drilled through my core.

The kiss ended, and we sat across from each other, panting.

After a moment, I spoke. “That was nice. But I'm still with Damien. And I like Damien . . . even if he's a little rough around the edges.”

He ran a tongue across his top lip, lingering at the scar there. “Yeah. I figured as much. Can't blame me for trying, though.”

“I do love you. And that's why I can't help but think you'd be so much better off with someone else. Someone like Adrienne.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “She's made it pretty clear we're not meant to be.” He met my gaze again. “And I had to agree with her. I don't love Adrienne. Not the way I love you.”

I stared at him several heavy moments. “I just need to figure out what I want. And I need to talk to Damien before . . .” I trailed off, letting that thought linger between us. Before what exactly? Before we make anything official? Before we take it to the next level?

Drew slowly leaned in again, lips parted and wet. Pausing just in front of my face, he veered, turning the keys in the ignition. He smiled, then quickly turned serious again. “Then we best get going.”

 

I called Damien after dropping Drew back off at the café to find that he was home for a few hours. I pulled in behind his truck and knocked. The door swung open, and Baxter came barreling into me, jumping on two feet and darting around the yard with a ball in his mouth. He trotted back, dropping the ball at my feet, tail whipping back and forth.

I looked to Damien, who shrugged in response. “I dunno,” he said. “He's been this way for a few days now. The arthritis seems to be gone . . . shit, he even looks less gray, doesn't he?” Damien chuckled, bending at the waist and clutching the slobbery ball in one hand. He reared back, throwing it in the yard, and Baxter took off once more at full speed. “I'd like to know where he's hiding that fountain of youth.” He chuckled, then wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me in for a kiss.

I braced a hand on his chest, pushing those damn sexy lips back. I was frozen, stunned. Didn't I zap Baxter like I had Genevieve? That night I was attacked? Holy shit. I swiveled, ignoring Damien's curious gaze. “Baxter! C'mere boy!” He bounded for me again and I crouched, catching his collar before he could knock me over.

I cupped his face in my hands—it was true. The white peppered into his golden coat all but disappeared. His big brown eyes no longer bore the bluish tint of glaucoma.

I swallowed, rising slowly to my feet staring at nothing particular. “Damien—we need to talk.”

His brow furrowed, but he held the door open for me, whistling for Baxter to come in, too.

I sat at his kitchen table as he put a pot of coffee on and began with my day. Buckley and the Watcher's symbol he found in the box Lucien disappeared in. Pausing, I remembered Buckley's warning—not to tell anyone of my newfound powers of giving life. I omitted that part—for now. Damien nodded, listening intently, and set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of me. It was just how I liked it—half and half and two sugars. Light and sweet.

I cleared my throat after a sip. “Buckley gave me a list of the local summoners who might have been able to capture Lucien.” I paused, reading Damien's face. It stayed still—statuesque and unmoving. Not even a twitch of his eyebrows. Damn detective in him. “And after I met with one of the local summoners, Rhea—she told me someone was missing.”

Damien leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with one hand clutching the cup of coffee. “Oh?” One eyebrow climbed higher. “Monica—whatever you're getting at . . . get there faster.”

“Fine.” I dove a hand into my purse and pulled out the list, sliding it over to Damien across the table. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He flicked a gaze down and chuckled. “Seriously? You think I'm the one who summoned Lucien into a church?”

“No—I don't think that. But why didn't you tell me? If you understood how summonings worked, that could have been really helpful to us.”

“If I thought it had any bearings on the case, I would have told you.”

I dipped a finger into my coffee, stirring it. “On one hand—it's me finding out you're Carman's son all over again. Yet another fact about yourself you never told me.” I paused, with a deep breath, then continued. “But—that being said, I need to be straight with you, too.” I raised my eyes, chin still dipped low almost to my chest. “Drew kissed me today,” I said quietly. “He initiated it, but I didn't exactly stop him.”

Damien tightened, and though nothing changed, his knuckles whitened little by little around his coffee mug.

When it was clear that Damien wasn't going to scream or throw anything or simply walk out, I continued. “I knew he'd be back eventually—but now that he is, I think I need some time to figure things out.”

Damien closed his eyes, and his nostrils flared with an audible breath. “Nothing has changed, Monica. You can't be with him . . . not if you're still living by your rules.”

I swallowed. “I'm not so sure anymore. I have some . . . things to work out.” I ran a hand through my hair, the strands silkier than usual. When I lowered my hand, my nails were glossier, too. A sure sign that I was due for another fix.

Damien's gray eyes were stormy. Fixed onto mine. Under the table, I wrung my hands, forcing myself not to fidget. “Well,” he said, sucking his teeth. “I'm curious to see how this all plays out.” There was a forced bravado to his voice that sent a chill through me. “Can I watch?” he sneered.

“Damien, don't do this—”

“No, seriously,” he interrupted. “We could have a threesome. That way you get the best of both worlds.”

“Am I naked right now?” I whispered. “ 'Cause in my nightmares, I'm usually completely nude.”

“It could be fun.” He ignored my outburst and blathered on. “The succubus, the elemental, and the vessel. No, wait, you're pretty much just a vessel yourself, aren't you?” His voice cracked as he pushed the chair back and stood. Hands clenched on his hips, and he shook his head. “Well, we'll just have to come up with another name for Drew, then, won't we?”

“Don't be a dick,” I said, rising with caution as well. “I was trying to be honest with you!”

He kicked the chair across the room, and it broke into several pieces.

“You're gonna have to apologize to your chair for that one.”

“You're not fucking funny, Monica. You don't get to come in here, tell me you want to take a break so that you can fuck the human you think you love, and then expect me to still be here for you!”

His face flushed scarlet and the veins in his neck protruded. “Damien,” I began softly. “I don't expect you to wait around. In a lot of ways, the rational side of me knows that you and I are perfect for each other. We are both supernatural but fighting the good fight. I can't take your life or your soul. You understand my unusual needs to sustain a life here . . .” I faded off, tears catching at the back of my throat. A shaky breath cracked in my chest. “But—but, isn't it unfair to you that you don't have all of my heart?” The tears were streaming down my cheeks. I didn't bother wiping them away. They felt good. Salty and cleansing, they ran down my neck.

A single tear danced at the corner of Damien's eye, too, before it glided down the bridge of his nose. He swiped it away with his thumb, clasping his hands to his hips and looking at the floor.

“I'm sorry,” I choked. “And I would rather be alone than risk lying to you or hurting you anymore.”

I sobbed, grabbing my purse and flinging it over my shoulder. I ran past him to the door, but Damien caught my elbow, pulling me into his chest. He stroked a hand through my hair and tipped my head back. A tear fell from his other eye, only this time he didn't bother to wipe it away.