Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) Page 5

  To her surprise, Jerry’s hands rose up in surrender as he began to do the white man’s moonwalk. “If that’s the way you want it, Father, take the witch. Ain’t worth us pulling rank on this.”

  The sense of foreboding drifted away with the crowd as something — a wormhole perhaps?— sucked Marc and her away. They emerged on the other side in a room that put a definition to the term “Goth Brady Bunch.” Blood-red paisley was the new black, and windows covered over in crimson crushed velvet curtains formed a public housing block for a nation of moths. They were alone, as best she could tell, though an undercurrent of chatter still filled the soundscape. Riona turned to the priest, and without another speck of hesitation, threw herself into his embrace.

  “I was so scared you wouldn’t come,” she admitted as her grip tightened about him.

  “I’ll always come for you, Riona,” he assured her, stroking her hair. “I’ll always do what’s right by you.”

  And she believed him.

  Until the dagger bit into her flesh.

  Looking down, the pain the blade caused as he withdrew it from her gullet was nothing in comparison with that in her heart. She’d been fooled into believing him, believing that he could really change, believing that he might really care.

  A scream shattered the night.

  Riona fell off the couch, arms flailing. Cold sweat brought shivers. Her hand raced down to her stomach as she searched for the evidence of the wound. Clean fingertips alerted her to the truth. Working to slow her erratic breathing and come to, she realized it was a dream. A terrible, horrible dream.

  But damn, even for the split second that Marc held her, how perfect it felt being in his arms.

  The pounding on the door nearly did her in a second time. Her pulse spiked more than a high school kid near the punch bowl at prom. The clock on the wall claimed it was three a.m., and common sense told her it was much too late for anyone she knew to just casually stop by. Whoever it was wasn’t there to sell cookies, either.

  “Hello?” The owner of the unfamiliar voice behind her door called out as she continued to bash the door loud enough to wake the dead. “Hello? I heard screaming. Is everything okay in there?”

  Shit, the new neighbor. What a time for introductions. Riona knew that someone had finally rented the apartment across the hall and moved in a few days ago, but she was too busy prepping for the demon bust with workouts at the gym Dee owned to say hello. What a great impression she was going to make, sweaty and gasping and looking like she’d just been through hell!

  Resolving to answer the door, and assure her neighbor that despite the midnight operatic performance, she was perfectly fine, then try to settle back down, Riona crawled over the floor before doing a gangly-walk across the room. Another round of pounding hastened her steps.

  “Just a second,” she mumbled beneath her breath. As she turned the knob, Riona preempted her Good Samaritan’s inquiries by letting out a long stream of don’t-even-go-theres. “Hi, I’m sorry if I woke you up. Bad day, bad dream. I really usually don’t wail in the night and… I … didn’t want…Um…”

  Why talk when you could gawk? If Riona had known that this is what the new neighbor looked like, she would have volunteered to be the head organizer of the Welcome Wagon.

  The half-concerned, half-amused woman matched her in height perfectly. She wasn’t nude (sigh), but the little, purple-silk-and-lace nightie she barely wore would have gotten her arrested in some states for public indecency. It perfectly complimented a pair of violet eyes that beamed concern, and a blue-black head of hair, cut in a fashion that said “don’t fuck with me.” Riona was unable to stop her eyes from lingering on the unholy curves that a drop of water would pay good money to trail down slowly, but seeing the smirk on her well-intentioned neighbor’s face when her gaze returned skyward, she had not failed to take notice, but was in no way embarrassed by the attention or insinuation.

  “Hi.” Oh, and a voice that was a perfect marriage of music and smoke. “I, um… I didn’t mean to introduce myself this way, but I heard screaming and I just wanted to make sure that everything’s okay over here. Did anything happen?” The neighbor’s eyes circumnavigated Riona, while inspecting the apartment behind her.

  Riona blushed, or at least, might have if her face wasn’t already red from all the excitement. “Oh, my God. No, I’m so alone. Sorry! I mean, I’m sorry. I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. A really, really bad dream. If I woke you up, I’m...”

  “No, no. That’s cool. It happens. Just thought, you know, better safe than sorry and everything.”

  Both nodded in agreement as an awkward silence fell between them. They looked at each other as best they could without looking like they were looking, which would have looked odd to anyone actually looking at them.

  Finally, the violet-eyed beauty stuck out a hand. “I’m Lucy, by the way. I just moved in last week.”

  Riona took her hand and shook it with way too much enthusiasm. “Riona Dade, nice to meet you. Wish the circumstances were less, you know, embarrassing.”

  “Again, no problem. Well, if everything’s okay here, I guess I’ll, um, see you later then.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I’m good.”

  As Lucy turned to go, Riona was struck breathless a third time. The back of the nightie was more symbolic than real, leaving nothing about the perfection of Lucy’s ass to the imagination.

  And why should Riona’s imagination take a break? She could already picture herself running her hand over that sweet little…

  “It’s okay, you know.”

  Riona’s eyes, and spine, snapped up. “What’s that?”

  Lucy turned at her door, half opening it, and struck a pose that Cosmo would have loved to put on their cover. “Checking me out like you were. Good night, Riona. Maybe we’ll bump into each other soon.”

  Yeah, Riona hoped. Perhaps literally.

  Chapter 6

  “You don’t look so good.”

  Dee lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose as Marc collapsed into the ripped-fabric task chair across the way. The statement was putting it kindly. The good Father looked like hell. The bags under his eyes alone could haul a big enough cache to sate a Hilton. His hair slicked over his scalp like an oil tanker had run aground atop it. Even if he was a man of the cloth, he clearly was no longer a man of the razor.

  Marc exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “Problems sleeping.”

  Clearly, that was all he was going to give up voluntarily, evidenced by a blank stare and a taut lip when his hand fell away. Dee realized he’d have to do a little digging to hit pay dirt. Tossing his pencil in the coffee cup kept especially for the purpose, he closed the lid of the laptop and leaned back. He’d update the gym’s monthly membership reports later.

  “In my experience, the inability to sleep at night usually has something to do with the inability to handle something else during the day. So, what is it?”

  Marc remained closed up tighter than a Catholic school girl at prom. He rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”

  “Okay, I’ll back pedal,” Dee resolved. “So, then, what brings your sorry-looking ass to my fine athletic facility this beautiful day?”

  “I need… something… physical.”

  Dee quirked an eyebrow. “I have the phone number of several discreet services, and they might give a discount to clergy.”

  The priest groaned. “Uh, hell, no, Dee.” He sat up, scratching at the scruff on his chin as his eyes searched the walls for a better set of words to pull into an explanation. “I mean… Like, some sort of running or basketball or swimming. Just something to give me a… an outlet. For all this pent-up energy, I mean.”

  “And?”

  “And…” Marc repeated, squirming about in his seat. “Look, Dee, I don’t have money f
or a membership, and I’m not trying to use you to get something for nothing. I just…”

  Dee’s hand shot up. “Marc, don’t think anything of it. As the owner, it’s my privilege to extend a membership to anyone I like.”

  “I could do some work as compensation.”

  “Yeah, and I could braid my hair and wear a tutu,” Dee replied. “Nothing needed, my man. Come and go as you please. It’s a good idea, actually. If you can’t sleep, exercising yourself into the ground might solve that. Suzette!”

  In immediate response to Dee’s booming beckon, a petite blonde with a very non-petite rack bounced around the corner and into their presence. Her attire left much not to be desired. Which was just the way Dee liked it.

  Dee pulled out an access card from his desk before crossing the room to hook his free arm around his assistant as he slipped the piece of plastic — no doubt, he was accustomed to slipping her things— into her hand. “Suzette, you know my friend, Marcello Angeletti. Can you get him set up with a complimentary membership and give him a quick tour?”

  His wink made her giggle. “Of course, Mr. Zitka. My pleasure.”

  It wasn’t considered professional to slap a worker on the ass anymore, despite the fact that Dee had slapped Suzette on the ass many times before, and not just with his hand. But, a little magical pinch couldn’t hurt anything, he thought.

  Suzette flushed and gasped. Marc, seeing the satisfied grin on Dee’s face, eyed him accusingly.

  Dee shrugged. “Like you wouldn’t tap that if you weren’t celibate.”

  Three days had passed since Riona had seen either of her pillars. The fact left her feeling both relaxed and, oddly, a little forlorn. It wasn’t as though they were life-long friends, but in the last several months they had very quickly become fixtures in her daily regime. Like having suddenly acquired stepbrothers in some awkward autumn marriage. Prior to the little mass exorcism at Dante’s Inferno, she had been spending hours by their side almost every night of the week. Now, the distance felt foreign, forced.

  The lines of the analysis chart she was studying for the last fifteen minutes kept bleeding into indiscriminate scribbles without meaning as her eyes relaxed and her mind wandered. When her gaze turned to the wall and she saw the clock read five thirty-seven a.m., she sighed and reached out to her monitor’s power button. No use in wasting electricity on work she wasn’t getting done.

  “Did you think you’d be able to endure it?”

  The half-drunk cup of cold coffee splashed across her desk as she jolted. Ramiel leaned over the spill, grinning like the cat that got the cream. The archangel served as the Pure Soul’s liaison to the Council of Seven, and in the last few months, was making a habit of scaring the shit out of Riona with his random pop-ins. It didn’t help that, like all the freaking Hosts of Heaven, he was hotter than July at the equator in his human form on Earth. The first time they met, right after Dee and Marc convinced Riona of the truth about her magical endowment, she almost fell over backwards at the mere sight of him. A revered position didn’t necessarily translate into a somber personality, however. Ramiel knew his effect on women, and he was in no way demure or ashamed. Acting more like an overgrown frat boy than a celestial warrior, he employed the f-word like he was getting paid overtime for it.

  “God damn it, Ramiel, would you please stop doing that!”

  Riona waved her hands over the brown liquid now starting to permeate the stack of unpaid bills on the side of her desk and recalled the liquid into the cup. Magic proved surprisingly useful in everyday life. Tomorrow, she might try dry-cleaning her blazers with a chem-charm.

  “God damn it?” Ramiel repeated disbelievingly, clicking his tongue. Blonde curls bounced on his head with each tsk. “Did you actually just blaspheme in my presence, Keystone?”

  “Hell, yeah, I did,” she assured him, moving to the kitchen and depositing the now-chipped cup in the washbasin. “You scare the bejesus out of me when you appear out of nowhere like that. If you’re going to show up looking human, maybe you could try acting human and knock on a door for once. So, what in God’s name are you doing here?”

  His devious little smile flitted across his face. “Touché. I have the details of your next assignment.”

  Riona’s finger sprang up. “I thought Dee got the lowdown on bookings?”

  Motioning to the couch, trying to enforce some sense of civility, Riona invited Ramiel to sit. He did, patting the spot next to him with a coy grin. With an angel, a reasonable distance was well advised. It was one thing to drool from a distance over a messenger of Heaven, it was another thing entirely to be close enough to crawl spontaneously into his lap and give him a test grind.

  “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  Ramiel shrugged before leaning back and stretching his whole span over the back of the sofa. “Suit yourself. And no, Riona. Dee was the go-to man, but it’s the Keystone’s job to command the troops. Now that you’ve officially been hazed — and, by the way, everyone upstairs thought you really did up Dante’s like a rock star — you’re in charge.”

  “Already?”

  Ramiel nodded.

  “That can’t be, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “Oh, hey there, Riona. It will come naturally. Remember, you were made for this.”

  A disbelieving grunt dissolved whatever feminine grace she might have otherwise claimed. “No, I was made to do cost-analysis, find statistical means and suggest marketing campaigns based on fragmented empirical data.”

  Ramiel snapped before pointing at her. “Exactly. You’re programmed to take a given goal, seek out all the available information, churn the data, then chart a course of action. That’s Demon Dicing 101, honey.”

  Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “Whatever. Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter who gets the message as long as it’s gotten, right? So, what’s the sitch? Dark forces hitting up the zoo? Imps with chimps? Goblin gophers?”

  Ramiel waved his hand reproachfully. “You make fighting evil sound like a Dr. Seuss adventure. Actually, we’d like you to infiltrate St. Cecilia’s High School. We have intel there’s a darkness there, but we’re having problems figuring out who the demon is: student, teacher, custodian — we don’t know.”

  Having experienced parochial school, Riona’s suspicions went immediately to every nun who had ever glared at her across a desk. “Isn’t the Big Chief supposed to be omnipotent?” Riona crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

  “Big Chief? No, not so much. The guy currently handing out the orders isn’t really the big guy, you know. More of an acting manager. No, the one you’re referring to is more a silent partner. He provides the capital: the Earth and the heavens and air, then leaves it up to all of us smaller folk to pilot and ride.”

  Slowly, she nodded, her mind trying to fit this new tidbit in her ever-expanding lexicon of cosmic truths. “Got it. St. Cecilia’s. We’ll get right on that.”

  The damned messenger had the nerve to wink at her as he stood up. The sight of his frame, tall and muscular, and the mold upon which “male” was perfected, made her blush, despite the warning to herself that the attraction was merely physical.

  “Keystone?”

  “Huh?”

  He slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans and cocked his hip. “It’s never going to happen between us. You don’t need to get yourself all in a tizzy every time I’m near you.”

  Not sure whether to act dismissive or insulted, Riona huffed sarcastically, “I’m not that bad looking that you need to rub it in my face, Ramiel. And who says I…”

  He cut her off. “Don’t act like you don’t want me to take you right here, right now. You should know, it’s not your fault. All archangels can induce lust in almost all human females. And you, of course, are more receptive to the effects of our gifts than ot
hers.”

  Riona, never one to feel like she’d been found out, continued to argue. “Despite that, it’s not like I’d actually go through with it.”

  He shook his head and leaned in closely. “Funny, that’s what Mary said.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should roll her eyes or laugh.

  “But, seriously, that’s not what I mean. I’m not meant to be with you, and I wouldn’t want to shag you silly and ruin you for every lover who came afterwards,” he added. “I bet you’re beautiful when your body is exploding, too. You purr, don’t you? You look like a purr-er to me. Can’t deny, I’d like to hear that. I’m a little jealous of the one who’ll get to claim you.”

  Heat filled her cheeks.

  “A little.” He winked coquettishly as the edges of form began to blur. “Not too much. Don’t let it go to your head. Well, I guess that’s all I have to…”

  “Ramiel, wait!”

  He paused mid-port, and solidified for a moment. “Hmm?”

  “You said… You said, ‘did you think you’d be able to endure it?’ What did you mean? Endure what?”

  Angels could be so smug, and were experts at beaming like gremlins to let you know when you’d finally caught onto something. “You’re restless, Keystone. It’s because you’ve been away from Marc and Dee too long. You three are bonded now that you’ve assumed your rightful place amongst them. You can’t stay away for more than a day or so before you feel the drain of their absence. Separation will have a physical effect on you now. The longer you go, the worse it will be. You need them nearby.”

  His angelic smile broadened. “And more importantly, they need you.”

  Chapter 7

  “Forty-…. Damn it!... Four. So you…haven’t heard from… ahhhgh, forty-five… her?”