Three Wishes (30 page)

He was like a two-bit-dime-store-novel villain, revealing his plans in a boring, pompous soliloquy while she avoided his attempts to run her through. “The archangels will get you. No matter where you go, what you do, they’ll eventually find you and rip your ugly fucking head from your body.”

“Tsk, tsk. Such language for an angel. You really brought this one down, Dar. Nice job.” This time he hit, slicing along her thigh, cutting through pants, skin, and muscle down to her spirit-being. She hopped backward, tensing herself against the pain.

“How did it feel to fuck her? Did she moan? Did she beg you for more?”

Asta jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the lance.

“Did she get down on her knees and suck you off? Did you come on her face, make her lick you clean?”

She caught her breath, trying to block out his taunts and avoid the stabbing lance. Focusing on the weapon, she almost missed Dar pick up a pair of scissors from beside the coffee machine, flipping them open in his hand like a butterfly knife.

“No, but maybe next time.” He reversed his grip and swung, the movement blindingly fast as he slashed the scissor blade across the genie’s thigh. Rubeus bellowed, clutching his leg with one hand as he dropped to one knee. Dar pivoted, and, with a downward strike, plunged the blade deep into the genie’s chest.

Crimson blood fountained as the pressure from the human’s heart launched its contents across the floor. Rubeus’s scream changed pitch, becoming higher and more faint. His eyes met Asta’s, and she saw the genie recede, leaving Carter behind. Fear bloomed for a second before his eyes lost focus and he slumped into a sea of blood.

He was dead. Carter was dead, and the demon’s song screamed in her ears. Rubeus had seconds to form a replacement body or he would die.

“All yours, babe. You can thank me later.”

Dar winked at her and raced out the door. Time seemed to stand still as his meaning sunk in. Phelps was dead—the caster of the circle. She was free. And beside the human’s body, another was rising, shaking off the shock of his sudden transformation.

Rubeus. The blood spread like a red tide across his scaled legs and clawed feet. His legs trembled, and down he went, flailing as he tried to gain control over his new body.

Asta started toward him then saw Carter’s blue eyes, pupils dilated as they stared unseeing toward the ceiling. Of all her fledgling skills, healing had always been her strongest. But this—this would be more like a resurrection. And would she have time before Rubeus found the muscle coordination to attack?

There was no time for thought, so she acted blindly, dropping to her knees in the sticky carpet and placing her hands over Carter’s chest. Gold light filled the air, and she poured every ounce of healing she had into his body. Arterial puncture, create new blood to fill his veins, start the silent heart. But would it be enough? It had only been seconds, but sometimes that’s all it took for the soul to flee.

The breath left her lungs as white-hot agony pierced them. Looking down, she saw the twisted end of the lance jutting momentarily from between her ribs before it was pulled from her back.

Everything went dark, and all Asta could think about was the pain. Luckily her physical form seemed to have a mind of its own, because she launched herself sideways. Her vision cleared. She jumped to her feet to see Rubeus in his demon form, struggling to yank the lance from where it had embedded in the floor.

If I’m going to die, I’m not going out alone. Steeling herself against the agony shooting down her entire left side, Asta dove at the genie, knocking him to the floor. His claws dug into her shoulders, sharp spurs scraping along her legs as she wrapped her fingers around his neck and squeezed. The demon twisted, bucking until her hands slipped against the scales of his neck. Then, with a powerful kick, he launched her across the room.

Asta hit the vending machine, feeling the glass crack and give against her back. She’d expected Rubeus to come after her and spun to the side in anticipation of his attack. Instead of claws against her flesh, she felt the now-familiar burn of the lance. He’d managed to dislodge it from the floor and was swinging it back and forth in front of himself, driving her backwards toward the corner of the room where she’d be trapped.

The lance came at her in a sweep. Gritting her teeth against the pain she knew was coming, Asta grabbed it with both hands. She staggered with the momentum of the weapon, her hands sizzling against it. There was a moment of confusion in the genie’s eyes right before she kicked out, knocking him back.

His grip on the lance slipped, but he kept hold. Asta was yanked forward, her hands blistered. A tug of war ensured that she was sure she was going to lose. She had to get this thing away from him. It would be hard enough fighting him without it, but this weapon reduced her odds to near zero.

There was an odd whoosh noise, and Asta found herself staring at the point of a sword, inches from her nose. The blade was buried in the genie’s neck, lodged in one of his vertebrae. Her eyes met the demon’s, and she saw her surprise mirrored in them.

“Damn mother-fucking piece of shit. Why are there no decent weapons in a twenty-five story office building?”

The sword jerked back and forth in Rubeus’s neck, making his head bob like a marionette. Asta had to pull her own neck backward to avoid the sharp tip.

“Would have had better luck trying to take his head off with a fucking copier, stupid fucking waste of metal.”

Dar.

Rubeus let go of the lance and grabbed the sword with one hand, elbowing backwards with the other arm. Dar made an ooof sound then a crunch noise as Rubeus drove the pommel into the other demon’s face.

Kicking the lance aside, Asta wrapped her burned hands around one of the demon’s horns, pulling and twisting as she tried to remove his head. Dar scrambled to his feet and threw the coffee pot at the genie’s head.

Pull. Pull. Dar’s aim wasn’t particularly good, and Asta felt herself pummeled with mini bags of chips and candy bars as she yanked. Rubeus ignored the demon and grabbed Asta’s arms, trying to loosen her grip as he worked his way across the room. He was heading for the lance. She was exhausted, burned, horribly injured, and this demon was right at the edge of her abilities. Still, she couldn’t let him get the lance, and getting his darned head off was a priority.

Something huge flew towards her, and Asta ducked, feeling the splash of water as the five-gallon jug from the cooler plowed into her shoulder. Ready to yell at Dar to cut it out, she was amazed to see it bounce off her and smack into the sword lodged in the genie’s neck, dislodging the weapon and sending it clattering to the floor.

Cheap piece-of-feces sword versus an angel’s waning strength. The sword won, and Asta dropped her grip on Rubeus’s horns, reaching out to grasp the pommel as she hit the floor. Rubeus sprang toward the lance, only to be knocked sideways by a flying microwave.

Bless Dar and his little rat heart. Asta rose and swung the sword with all her might. It slowed a bit on the bone, but this time it went through. The genie’s head toppled to the side in a spray of blood.

A headless demon wasn’t always a dead demon. Throwing the sword to the side, Asta grabbed the body before it hit the floor and put forth her final blow, feeling the flesh turn to sand beneath her fingers. The room spun, and Rubeus’s head seemed to roll in slow-motion as she collapsed on her hands and knees.

“Damn, girl. Watch your aim. You almost skewered me with that five-dollar museum-quality reproduction.”

Asta looked up. Dar stood next to the oak-veneer cabinet, the bent sword quivering inches from his head. She started to laugh, the sound edging into hysteria. “Need to rest,” she finally gasped out, sliding down to blessed nothingness on the blood-soaked carpet.

***

She was oh-so-warm, floating in steamy heat while her wings soaked in water. Something behind her stirred, and she realized there were arms around her—and a naked human pressed tight against her back. It shouldn’t feel this good to have all this skin touching hers, but it did, and she didn’t want to move. The water, the warmth, it all helped ease the horrible aches that went deeper than her physical-self. She felt a kiss pressed against the side of her head, a hand lightly rubbing her waist, and a very familiar demon’s spirit-being gently exploring hers, anxious and worried over her injuries.

Dar. Asta was vaulted into full consciousness by the thought of him so close, the memory of what had happened. She hid her wings with a snap and struggled to pull herself from his lap. In the worst moment of her life, she’d thought he’d betrayed her, but then he had stayed behind and risked his life to help her fight Rubeus.

“Easy, easy.” His voice rumbled against her back, his breath stirring the loose hair at the top of her head. “Are you recovered enough to finish healing?”

“I can’t heal this.” She touched his spirit-being with the injured part of herself and winced.

“I know, but it will get better in time. Trust me, I’ve got lots of experience with these things, although I’ve never personally been stabbed repeatedly with a bespelled unicorn horn.”

So that’s what the lance had been. Now she knew to stay away from unicorns. It hurt, but she concentrated and managed to finish healing her physical form. Then she resumed trying to get out of the tub—and most especially off Dar’s naked lap. His physical body was beginning to express some very non-saintly desires, and as vulnerable as she felt, Asta wasn’t likely to say no.

“Take it easy. Just relax. I’m not going to do anything. I vow on all the souls I Own that I’m just going to hold you until I’m sure you can stand on your own without collapsing and spilling your brains all over the bathroom tiles.”

Darn. It would be kind of nice to have him do something, although, as bad as she hurt, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Why are we here?” Thank the Creator her voice sounded less weak and pathetic.

“You were shaking with cold, and I figured a hot bath would help. After scraping you up off the floor and carrying you through the business district, I didn’t exactly want to let you drown in a tub, so I got in with you.”

“Naked?”

“Did you want me to ruin my suit?”

Of course not. It was a very nice suit. Wait—. “You carried me? You
carried
me all the way here from the Loop?”

“It’s not like I could take a taxi or anything. You revealed your wings when you passed out. I had no idea how to get you in the backseat of a vehicle with those things. Maybe if I stuck them out the windows, but I didn’t want to risk breaking them in half. You’ve got some big-ass wings, girl. I like it.” The demon began to sing a song about how he liked big wings and he could not lie.

Oh, by all that was holy—her wings. Demons had no ability to entrance humans. Everyone they passed had to have seen her wings. Everyone on the street, in the hotel lobby….

Dar chuckled. “You should have seen the look on the humans’ faces. I told them we were at a costume party and you’d passed out drunk from doing tequila body shots. Everyone was very helpful, opening doors and holding the elevator.”

“But we were all bloody. My clothes were ripped to shreds. What kind of costume party were we at that we’d be covered in blood?”

“A really good one?” Dar laughed. “Nah, you were dressed as a zombie angel, and I was your snack for the evening.”

“It’s what, ten o’clock in the morning? I’m passed out drunk and we’re coming home from a costume party late Saturday morning?”

“It’s Chicago. No one batted an eye.” The demon nuzzled her hair. “Wanna eat my brains?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “What brains?” This felt so good, sitting in the hot water enclosed in his arms, laughing together. He did have brains. He was clever and funny, strong and sexy. He’d saved her life with that stupid sword and various kitchenette projectiles.

And he’d killed a human. It didn’t matter that she’d managed to bring Carter back to life; Dar had violated the terms of his immunity.

“Carter... .” She wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Oh, for fuck sake. He’s fine. Probably in the hospital by now. I was more worried about getting you out of there and making sure you were okay to bother with your little human pet.”

That was the Dar she knew and loved. Asta leaned against him and buried her face in his chest, trying to commit every bit of him to memory. “You knifed him with scissors.”

This time he sighed, his arms tightening around her.

“I know, I know. I’m toast. You’ll fill out fifty forms in triplicate, and within half an hour, every angel in and out of Aaru will be gunning for me. I’m a dead demon.”

How could she explain it otherwise? She was terrible at lying, and if her report was subpar, the Ruling Council could entrance Carter and get the truth from him. There was no way she could keep Dar out of this.

“You want to kill me instead?” His voice had a rough edge under the teasing tone. “I’d rather meet my end at your hands than by some pompous asshole who will take enormous pleasure in lopping my head off.”

She wouldn’t take pleasure in it. She’d hate every moment of it. There was no way she could kill him, never in a billion years. And there’s no way she could implicate him in the report. She would buy him time enough to get safely back to Hel at least. Stirring, Asta pulled away to pivot on his lap and look into his silver-gray eyes. They were serious—sad and full of regret. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to sink back against him and let the warm water wash the rest of the world away.

But she was returning to Aaru. In a few hours, there would be no more tubs, no more flying in the city, drinking espresso, delighting in the slide of silk against her skin. There would be no more Dar.

“You need to get out of here. Go back to Hel. I’ll delay the report for a few days, and I’ll lie. They’ll eventually find out, but you’ll be safely home by then.”

His hands stroked her hair, tugging gently at the wet curls. “You’d lie for me?”

She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him against her. “Yes.”

One word carried so much meaning. She’d more than lie for him; she’d fall for him. He was so much more than a fling, than a bit of sin before leaving this earthly plane. Dar was her heart.