6

Nathan stumbled back like I had told him I was infected with the plague. I stayed glued to the wall. His face twisted with shock and confusion…and anger. “Pregnant?”

I nodded.

He raked his fingers through his hair and walked across the room. “You’re pregnant?” he asked again.

I flinched at the tone of his voice. “About eight weeks.”

He turned to look at me. His face was as pale as I had ever seen it—even when he was dead for a brief time. “Does Warren know?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He ran his hands over his face as he continued to pace. He was making me nervous, like he might spontaneously combust at any moment.

“Nathan, please say something.”

“How long have you known?” he asked.

I took a small step away from the wall. “I realized it on our drive back from Charlotte when we dropped off Warren. It made sense when I didn’t get a migraine that day. I found out from the doctor for sure a few days ago.”

He stopped walking and tossed his hands in the air. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“I…I was trying to figure out how,” I stammered.

He waved his hand toward me. “Well, I’m glad you figured it out before I tossed your dress onto my bedroom floor!”

I walked toward him. “Nathan, please—”

He held up his hand to stop me and shook his head. “No.” He turned toward the door. “I can’t do this anymore.” He walked out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

I started after him, but as soon as the door was open, I heard the front door downstairs slam. I sank back into the bedroom. Uncontrollable tears streamed down my cheeks, and I curled into a ball on the bed and cried.

At some point, I cried myself to sleep, and I awoke to the creak of the bedroom door. I opened my eyes and saw Nathan crossing through the room in the fading light of sunset. He stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at me. I half-expected him to yell again.

Instead, he whispered, “Scoot over.”

I slid over in the bed, and he stretched out next to me. He reached for my arm and pulled me close. I rested my head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, stroking my hair.

“I’m sorry too.”

He tugged the blanket up around my shoulders. “This has to be over with me and you.” His tone was low, serious, and unsteady. “I love you. I’ve loved you since that first day I walked into your office and you smacked your head on your desk.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But this has to be over now.”

I didn’t speak.

“As much as I hate him sometimes, Warren’s a good guy, and he really loves you. You’re supposed to be with him,” he said.

“Nathan, I—”

He cut me off. “Please, don’t. Please, don’t say it.” His hand was still tangled in my hair. “I can handle being shot at and having my body broken in half by a demon, but I can’t stand hearing you tell me you love me.”

I closed my mouth.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and silent tears dripped onto his sweater. My father’s words floated to my mind. If I really loved him, I had to let him go.

I just wish I knew how.

After lunch the next day, we said our goodbyes to his family, promised his mother we would get our flu shots, and headed back to Asheville. We rode for a while in silence. Me staring out my window, and Nathan staring at the road ahead.

He finally looked over at me. “What are you going to do?”

“About the baby?”

The word made him flinch, but he nodded. “With you and Warren being whatever it is you are—”

“Seramorta.”

“Right. Angel hybrids. What does that mean your kid will be?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, but I’d guess it’s why the supernatural world is so interested in me now. It’s a big deal for an Angel of Life and an Angel of Death to even be together. I can only imagine the repercussions of us having a baby.”

“Is that what you are? An Angel of Life?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess so. That’s what Kasyade told me before she went full demon on everyone.”

He shook his head. “Life with you is starting to feel like a Hitchcock movie.”

I leaned my head against the cold glass. “I can’t argue.”

“And you believe her?” he asked.

“Samael, the angel that helped us the day we fought her—”

“The day I died?” he asked.

My heart deflated. “Yes. The day you died. Samael said basically the same thing, and he’s a good angel.”

“Is it because you’re pregnant that you could bring me back from the dead, and now can fully heal people?” he asked.

“Yeah. All the powers I had before are magnified like crazy. My summoning power works like a GPS now,” I said. “I also seem to have developed Warren’s ability to sense dead bodies. It was overwhelming at the cemetery yesterday.”

“That must be weird,” he said.

I nodded. “It was.” Another thought occurred to me. “I wonder if I can kill people too.”

Nathan looked at me with raised eyebrows. “So Warren can kill people?”

I grimaced. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

He sighed. “I already knew, but it’s still alarming to hear it said out loud.” He looked back out the windshield. “Is that what really happened to Billy Stewart and Larry Mendez?”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t have to.

After a minute, Nathan groaned.

“What?” I asked.

He rubbed his forehead. “I’m considering what Warren could do to me if he finds out what happened with us last night.”

I laughed. “What did you think ‘Angel of Death’ meant?”

He shrugged and draped an arm over the steering wheel. “Honestly, I still have a little trouble believing all that.”

Some days I still had trouble believing it myself.

When we reached my house, the sun was sinking behind the mountains. I was half-asleep with my head against the window listening to the moody drone of nineties grunge rock.

“This isn’t good.” Nathan switched off the radio.

Rubbing my eyes, I straightened in my seat. “Huh?”

“You’ve got company,” he said.

A dark blue sedan was at the curb in front of my house.

“Oh god,” I said. “It’s the feds. I’m going to prison.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and pulled to a stop behind the car. “Calm down and let me do the talking.”

A man got out of the driver’s seat, then the passenger side door popped open. FBI Agent Sharvell Silvers angled out of the car and tightened the belt on her wool coat as she marched to the curb.

I was sweating.

“Get out of the truck, Sloan,” Nathan said.

I looked over and he was leaning against his door. I hadn’t heard him move. Exhaling slowly, I opened my door and slid off my seat.

Even in the four inch black pumps she was wearing, Agent Silvers didn’t quite reach my eye-level, but she made me feel about two inches tall. Technically, she was one of the good guys, but she could be one hell of a villain if she so desired. And I wasn’t sure which side of the law she thought I was on in that moment.

Swallowing my fear with a heavy gulp, I extended a hand toward her. “Agent Silvers, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Good afternoon, Sloan.” She looked at Nathan. “Hello, Detective.”

Nathan stepped forward and shook her hand.

She looked toward the man with her. “This is Agent Clark”

Nathan shook his hand, then turned his attention back to her. “What brings you to Asheville?”

She looked me up and down. “I’d like to have a private word with Ms. Jordan, if you don’t mind.”

Nathan crossed his arms. “Absolutely not without a lawyer.”

She shot him a daring look. “I could detain her and put her in jail on a temporary hold.”

He smirked. “You have to have probable cause for that.”

She held up a padded legal folder. “How about suspicion of conspiracy to commit sex trafficking, conspiracy to harbor aliens, and conspiracy to commit money laundering. I have a whole file full of probable cause.” Sharvell looked at me. “Would you prefer a holding cell, Ms. Jordan, or shall we step inside?”

The spike in my blood pressure was enough to make my knees wobble. I shook my head furiously. “Of course we can go inside, Agent Silvers.”

Without waiting for me to lead the way, the two agents turned toward the steps to my house. Nathan grabbed the tail of my shirt. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I can’t go to jail, Nathan!”

He pointed at me. “You watch what you say in there, Sloan. They can hold anything against you.”

We followed them, and I passed the agents on the porch. My hand was shaking so much I fumbled the keys, twice. Sharvell noticed. Once we were inside, I motioned toward the living room. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Can we get you some water? Or I can make coffee,” I offered.

Agent Silvers shook her head and walked around my living room like a cat on the prowl. She stopped at the mantle and picked up a photo of my family. “Is this your mother?”

I looked at Nathan. He nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

She traced her finger over the edge of the frame. “I hear she passed away.”

“In October,” I answered, a familiar pain creeping through me.

Gently, she placed the frame back on the ledge. “How did she die?”

“Cut the interrogation tactics. Using her mom to rattle her is a low blow,” Nathan interrupted.

Her gaze cut to him. “I simply wanted to offer my condolences.”

“Bullshit,” Nathan said.

Without further argument, she stalked to the sofa and sat down. The rest of us took that as our cue to find a seat. Nathan sat so protectively close to me, his hip touched mine.

Sharvell opened the business folder and balanced it on her thighs. “Sloan, I would like you to tell me again about your involvement with Abigail Smith.”

I shook my head. “I’m not involved with Abigail and haven’t seen her since Texas.”

“What was your involvement with her prior to Texas?” she asked.

I turned my palms up in question. “We weren’t involved. I only met her a couple of times.”

She pointed at me. “You’re lying.”

My mouth fell open. “No, I’m not.”

She pulled papers from the portfolio and handed them over the coffee table. “These were found inside her residence in San Antonio. Can you explain them?”

They were photographs. Of me.

One was a picture of me locking the front door of the apartment I lived in during my senior year of college. The second was me on the playground at school when we still lived in Florida. And the third was of me and Warren carrying boxes of his stuff into my house. A chill made me shudder. I felt naked. Exposed.

“I don’t know what these are,” I said.

Nathan was looking over my shoulder. “These are obviously surveillance photos taken without her knowledge.”

I flipped back to the picture of me as a child. It was the same playground where I’d received the scar over my eye as a kid. Kasyade had been watching me the whole time. I thought of the teacher who had terrified me that same year and realized she’d been planted there on purpose. My chin quivered.

“Why would Abigail be watching you?” she asked.

I held up the photos. “I would love to know the same thing.”

“Sloan, we recovered boxes and boxes of photographs like these, along with notes, newspaper clippings, medical records, school transcripts…” She tapped her finger on the folder. “For someone who claims to have only just met this woman, I find it odd she has a lifetime of information on you.”

Nathan shook his head. “All this proves is Sloan has a stalker.”

“And what does this prove?” She leaned forward, passing Nathan a manila folder from her portfolio.

Nathan opened it, and I leaned over his shoulder.

Uh oh.

“I believe that’s an information packet about a woman you were investigating here in North Carolina, is it not?” she asked, her voice dripping with haughty derision. “You lied to me, Detective. You both lied.”

The folder contained the original information he had gathered on Abigail when we still assumed her name was Rachel Smith and that she’d been murdered by our serial killer.

“My question is why would you lie?” she asked.

Nathan closed the folder. “I was out of my jurisdiction while investigating—”

“Now who’s spouting off bullshit, Detective?” she snapped. She wagged her finger between the two of us. “I also know the two of you aren’t a couple. Never have been.”

I scowled at Nathan.

He ignored me and stood. “Well, unfortunately for you, Agent Silvers, our relationship status isn’t governed by federal law. So unless you’re going to charge us with a crime of which you have zero proof, our conversation here is over.”

I was surprised Nathan didn’t fall over dead under the heat of her glare.

Sharvell stood, as did the man with her. They walked toward the front door and we followed. She turned on her heel in the foyer and looked up at me. “I promise you, Ms. Jordan.” Her eyes shrank into angry slits as she snatched the photos I was still holding. “I will find out what you’re hiding from me. Make no mistake of it.”

My skin prickled at her tone, and I shuddered as they walked out the door.

Nathan leaned toward my ear. “Stay inside. I’ll get your bag from the car.”

I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.

Nathan stood on the curb with his arms folded across his chest till the agents drove away and disappeared around the curve. Then he went to his truck and retrieved my bag. I was still frozen in front of the door when he came back in and closed it.

He waved a hand in front of my staring eyes. “Earth to Sloan. Are you OK?”

Snapping out of my daze, I nodded. “Yeah. At least she didn’t arrest me.” I turned toward him as he put my bag down by the stairs inside. “What did she mean by she could detain me on conspiracy of all that stuff? Is that true?”

He came back over and stood in front of me. “Technically, they can hold you without charging you, but they won’t do that. Not if that’s all the probable cause they have.” His face wasn’t convincing.

“That woman is going to bury me under the jail!”

He shook his head. “They have no evidence you’re involved in this because no evidence exists.” He bent to look me in the eye. “I won’t let them bury you anywhere.”

I wished his words were comforting.

“Just to be safe, we should look for a federal defense attorney,” he suggested.

I smirked. “And tell them what?”

“It’s still a good idea.” He glanced at his watch, then around the room. “Are you staying in for tonight?”

“Yeah. I need to try to get some rest. Try being the keyword in that sentence.”

He hesitated as he turned toward the front door. “I can sleep in the guest room if it will help you relax.”

I squeezed his hand. “This has to end, remember?” I asked. “You moving in with me—no matter how noble the reason—isn’t good for anyone. I can always go stay with Dad if I need to.”

He looked down at the floor and sighed. “You’re right.”

“I’ll call you if anything happens,” I said.

He put his arms around me. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

From the door, I watched until he got into his truck and drove away, then I sucked in a deep breath and looked out over the horizon. The faint ripples were thicker and covered more of the sky. I wondered how many angels were out there, and if it was a good sign or a bad one that their numbers were multiplying. Slowly, I closed the door and walked back into my quiet house.

As I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, my brain replayed the events of the weekend. The FBI and the funeral were both overshadowed by the memory of Nathan’s arms pinning me against his bedroom wall as we kissed. I still felt his fingertips on my hips and the weight of his body pressing against me. My stomach fluttered with the taste of desperation on his lips and the plea for escape dripping from his eyes. Please, he had whispered.

With so many emotions between us, that neither of us could reconcile, how would it ever be possible for me and Nathan to just be friends? Someone in our triangular affair was destined for heartbreak. I suspected it might be all three of us.

I didn’t deserve the unnatural patience and understanding that Warren Parish afforded me. If he struggled between love for me and love for another woman, I would be devastated and possibly homicidal. I pictured his face and washed myself in the memory of the intoxicating buzz of energy I felt whenever we touched.

Into the darkness, I reached out with my gift to find his soul. He was there, but he was so far away. Lost in the delusions of a faceless embrace, I drifted off to sleep as tears dripped to my pillow and thunder rumbled in the distance.

The sound of my alarm clock came too early the next morning. Nothing in me wanted to get up and go into work. I briefly considered grabbing my phone and typing out a resignation email with my thumbs. If I quit my job, I can go right back to sleep.

I didn’t. I got up instead and blindly crossed my bedroom to the master bath. When I flipped on the light, two bulbs blew out. There was barely enough light for me to see to brush my teeth, much less fix my hair and do my makeup. Just my luck.

I picked up my hairbrush and pulled it through the tangles in my long brown hair. My eyes were tired, and I blinked a few times to get them to focus. I put my brush down to wash my face, but my reflection in the mirror didn’t change. I was still brushing my hair.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked again. I stared back at me. “Sloan.” The sound of my own voice, though it didn’t come from my lips, was jolting as it echoed around the bathroom.

My reflection moved closer to the glass. “Sloan.”

To my horror, blood spread over the midsection of Warren’s gray t-shirt I wore. I looked down to see nothing amiss with the real me standing at the sink, and when I looked back again at the mirror, the eyes staring back at me were solid white and empty. I held up my shirt, showing a long bloody gash across my stomach. The inside was hollow. My baby was gone.

My scream echoed throughout the house.

I sat up in bed, sweat pouring down my face, when I looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was 2:13 in the morning. Instinctively, I grasped at my stomach. There was nothing wrong with me.

In the corner of my room, I saw something move.

A shadow, with the shape of a small person and bright, amber eyes, moved toward me. With my heart pounding so loud it reverberated around the room, I scrambled back as far in the bed as I could before the figure overtook me and slammed my body against the mattress. 

I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I tried to fight, but the shadow had nothing to grab onto. Two chilly hands pushed through my chest and gripped my heart, squeezing and twisting. I fought to breathe, but the crushing weight on my chest wouldn’t allow for any air. The veins in my eyes exploded as the life slipped from my body.

There was a flash of bright light, and then I was sitting up again. I looked at the clock. 2:13.

This time, I lunged for the lamp on my nightstand and jumped out of bed. There was nothing in my room. I was wearing Warren’s shirt, and it wasn’t covered in blood. I walked to the bathroom and turned on the lights. All the bulbs flickered on.

As I splashed cold water on my face, I avoided looking at my reflection—just in case.

“It’s only a dream,” I said, still panting. “It’s only a dream.”

There was no use in trying to go back to sleep because it wouldn’t happen. I got up and walked downstairs to the dark living room. I grabbed the pregnancy book from the doctor and sat on the couch. An entire section dedicated to dreams and fantasies confirmed increased nightmares were normal during pregnancy. It made me feel slightly better. I pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and curled up underneath it. The clock on the wall said 2:26.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps came from my front porch.

Slowly, I got up and moved against the wall. Whoever it was had seen my light come on. They knew I was home, and if they’d been watching my house for any period of time, they also knew I was alone. I should have let Nathan stay. My phone was upstairs.

My heart was racing so fast I was dizzy. Closing my eyes, I sent out my evil radar, as Nathan called it. There didn’t seem to be anything sinister waiting for me, so I crept into the foyer and looked out the peep hole. On the other side of the door, the silhouette of a man flashed against the distant glow of the dim city lights.

I blinked and he was gone.

Gripping the sides of my head, I wondered if I was losing my mind. For a moment, I considered driving to Nathan’s apartment, but I decided the idea was worse than staying home alone. I could have gone to my dad’s, but if I woke him up that early, he’d never go back to sleep.

Wind howled in my chimney.

A branch cracked outside the window.

Screw this.

I ran upstairs, threw some clothes into a bag, then drove to the only place that made sense.

Adrianne’s.

Adrianne was rubbing her eyes with her knuckles when she opened the front door. She leaned against the doorframe and surveyed my wild hair, disheveled pajamas, and the overnight bag in my hand. “This can’t be good,” she said through a yawn.

My teeth were chattering. “Can I come in?”

She stepped out of the way, and I rushed into her two-story loft apartment. She locked the deadbolt behind me. “What’s up?”

I pulled the scarf from my neck. “There might be a demon at my house. Can I sleep here?”

“Did you bring the demon with you?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”

She shuffled toward her kitchen and flipped the light on. She pointed at the table. “Sit.” Obediently, I sat down as she poured two glasses of water. She handed me one and sat across from me. “OK, what happened?”

Without pausing to breathe, I told her everything.

She was cradling her skull in her hands by the time I finished. “Are you sure you were still dreaming when that thing attacked you in your room?”

“I have no idea. I’m not completely convinced I’m fully awake right now.”

She reached across the table and pinched my arm. Hard.

I yelped with pain. “Ow!”

She shook her head. “You’re awake.”

I scowled and rubbed the stinging spot on my arm.

“Did you call Nathan?”

I groaned. “No. He would have insisted on coming over to my house.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked.

I covered my face with my hands. “Things happened with us this weekend.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her water. “Oh, geez. What now?”

I blew out a long puff of air. “I told him about the baby, and it didn’t go well.”

“I thought you were going to wait to tell him,” she said.

“Well, I was, but after the funeral, things got a little heated in his bedroom, and I sort of blurted it out.”

Her jaw dropped. “You told him you were pregnant during sex?”

“No. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter, Adrianne.”

She tossed her hands up. “How else am I supposed to take ‘heated in his bedroom,’ Sloan?”

I groaned. “I told him before things went that far. He freaked out.”

“I told you he would.”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “We’re all right now, but he stormed out of the house. I was afraid he’d never speak to me again.”

“Pshhh,” she said. “He’s too in love with you for that.”

I ran both hands down my face, pulling my lips down into a frown. “I know, which is why I came here instead of going to him.”

She pointed at me. “Smart girl. You need to tell him about this though. This is major.”

“He’ll be even more protective of me, and that’s the opposite of what either of us need,” I said.

“You need to work on having some boundaries with him, I agree. However, if you don’t tell him, I will. I’m a hair expert, not a bodyguard,” she said.

I nodded but said nothing.

A smile crept over her face. “So what happened in his bedroom?”

My mouth fell open. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Tongue or no tongue?” she pressed.

I got up and walked toward the bathroom.

She followed me. “Was there nakedness?”

“Adrianne!”

I tried to shut the bathroom door in her face, but she blocked it with her long arm. “Serious question though.”

I put my hand on my hip.

“If you weren’t pregnant, what would’ve happened?”

My shoulders dropped.

She pointed at me. “Bingo.”