Deirdre woke with a start, but she kept her eyes closed. It was a dream. It had to be. Everything that happened today was one long, horrible, extremely detailed nightmare, and when she opened her eyes, she would find herself in Azrael’s bed with him lying by her side. She would. She had to.
Of course, if she believed the lie she was telling herself, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She’d have opened her damn eyes immediately because who wouldn’t want to see a naked, smokin’ hot Azrael first thing?
Just get it over with, Dee. She let out a dramatic sigh and lifted her lids. Nope, she was not in Azrael’s bed like she’d hoped. Instead of feeling soft satin sheets, she felt smooth leather beneath her, and nothing covered her naked body.
“Dammit. Dammit all to hell.” She had… What did Azrael call it? Right, she’d blinked out. Swinging her legs over the side of the couch, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. “Azrael?”
Tabitha darted into the room and jumped onto the couch. “Meow.”
“Hey there, beautiful. Where’s your daddy?” She stroked her hand down the cat’s back. Tabitha’s fur was soft, but in her spirit form, Deirdre felt no warmth emanating from the feline.
The door swung open, and Azrael strode in, his solemn expression morphing into a sad smile as his gaze met hers. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Aside from being dead when I don’t want to be, that was the best sleep I’ve had in my life.”
“Do you mind if I come in?” Jessie hesitated in the doorway. Her brown hair was swept up in a twist, and she wore a killer black pencil skirt with a gorgeous obsidian silk blouse.
“If you don’t mind a buck-naked dead vampire sitting on the couch.” She looked at Azrael. “Will you get me a blanket so I can cover up?”
He sank down beside her, and Tabitha climbed into his lap. “It would fall right through your shoulders. The dead remain in the clothes they passed in until they complete the grieving process. That’s just the way it is.”
Deirdre scoffed. “I’ve got nothing to grieve because you’re going to put me back together.”
Azrael flicked his gaze to Jessie as she sat in the chair, and something passed between them. Maybe it was just a look, or maybe Azrael was using his angel telepathy, but whatever it was, it didn’t look good.
“You are going to fix me.” She looked from Azrael to Jessie and then back at her angel. “Azrael?” A sickening sensation bubbled in her stomach, which was weird because she technically didn’t have a stomach to bubble. What was she made of now anyway? She was solid, but she was a mist at the same time. It doesn’t matter. Focus, Dee.
He finally looked at her. “I can’t fix you until you fix yourself.”
“Fix my… I’m absolutely perfect. There’s nothing to fix.” How dare he suggest there was something wrong with her…that she was the reason he couldn’t figure out how to put her back together.
“Have you ever seen a counselor?” Jessie asked.
Deirdre scoffed again. Were they actually insinuating she had a mental problem? “I’m not insane.”
“You don’t have to be crazy to seek therapy.” Jessie folded her hands in her lap. “Even the Angel of Death needs a professional to talk to sometimes.”
Jessie winked at Azrael, and a pang of jealousy twisted in Deirdre’s gut…which was ridiculous. If she had a body, she’d assume the sensation was gas because she was so not the jealous type. In fact, her lack of jealousy was how Beau had gotten away with cheating on her for so long.
And Jessie was not her competition. Deirdre had become an excellent judge of character over the centuries, and this woman was Azrael’s friend and colleague. Nothing more. Chill the fuck out, Dee.
She unclenched her jaw. “I saw someone once.”
“So you are open to counseling.” Azrael rested his hand on her knee.
“No, I don’t need it. Why do you think I do?”
“Jessie and I have been talking…”
There was that jealousy gut punch again. Immature Deirdre was screaming why did he talk to her and not me? in her mind, which, again, was nonsense. Uh, maybe because you’ve been blinked out for the past Lilith-knows-how-long. Get a grip.
Azrael continued, oblivious to the argument going on in Deirdre’s mind. “Based on what I saw of the vampire in Theo’s memory and some things you’ve said, we think your body is rejecting your spirit because you never grieved your first death. You never fully accepted it.”
“There was nothing to grieve because I didn’t die.” She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. “Okay, technically, I died, but only because I let that jackass Beau turn me into a vampire. I was dead for maybe two minutes tops. Why would I grieve two minutes?”
“Not the two minutes. I mean you didn’t grieve the loss of your human life.”
“I didn’t lose my life. I’m still here. Well, I was still here until this morning. Or yesterday morning. How long was I out?”
“All night,” Jessie said.
“You’re in denial.” Azrael patted her knee. “You’ve been in denial for two centuries.”
Deirdre’s mouth dropped open, and she laughed cynically. “This is unbelievable. I am so not in denial.”
“Classic denial.” Jessie crossed her legs and laced her fingers together on her knee.
“We might as well call her Cleopatra,” Azrael said.
“Oh, that’s real funny, cher. Ha. Ha. Ha.” Mr. Broody Dark Angel had jokes now. Fang-tabulous.
“I’m sorry.” He gave her thigh a squeeze. “Look, sweetheart. We have two more days before your body will reject your soul permanently. Will you humor me and talk to someone? It doesn’t have to be me. You can talk to Jessie. She’s the best counselor I’ve got.”
Deirdre shrugged and crossed her arms, pouting. Was she being immature? Yes. Yes, she was. But she had accidentally killed herself, and it looked like she might be stuck this way. They needed to cut her some slack. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure my body has already started decomposing, and I do not want to walk around looking like a zombie. I might as well stay dead.”
“Bodies don’t decompose in the Underworld. You’ll be just as gorgeous as ever if you do this for me.”
She chewed her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to be reunited with her body. She missed the taste of blood and the warmth of Azrael’s skin. She missed falling asleep in his arms, running her fingers through his feathers, and making him shiver with delight.
But this plan of his… “You’ve had twenty-four hours to think about it, and this is the best solution you’ve come up with? For me to see a therapist?”
“Short of me killing someone and then reanimating them just to make sure my magic isn’t glitching, this is the only solution we’ve got.”
“Well, you should do that then. We need to try everything.” At least then she’d believe the problem might lie with her.
He shook his head. “That would be unethical.”
“You live in the Underworld. I’m sure a lot of unethical things happen down here.”
“It would be cruel to put someone through that. It’s not in my nature, Deirdre. You know me better than that.”
“I could try the reanimation,” Jessie said.
Azrael gave her a hard look, and she raised her hands in defense. “I mean on Deirdre. If you let me borrow your scythe, I can try putting her back together. If it works, great; if it doesn’t, we’ll know it’s her and not your magic.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That’s an excellent idea.”
“Yeah…” Deirdre said. “You’re not the one who has to get electrocuted for the fourth time if it doesn’t.” Surely he wouldn’t want to put her through that again.
Azrael arched a brow. “We have to try everything.”
Great. He’s using my own words against me. “Ugh. Fine. Let’s do it.” Deirdre rose and strode down the hall to the bedroom. Azrael and Jessie followed.
When she reached the doorway, she paused. She technically didn’t need oxygen—because she was dead and all—but her breath caught in her throat as she entered the room and saw herself lying there dead. This has been the worst out-of-body experience ever.
Azrael rubbed her back before unlocking a cabinet and retrieving his scythe. Jessie’s eyes lit up as she made a grabby motion with her hands.
“I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner. Every reaper in Purgatory would die to get their hands on Severus.” She snatched it from his grip the moment he offered it to her.
Deirdre laughed. “Been there; done that. Zero stars. Would not recommend.”
Azrael cupped her face in his hands. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“I’m a dead ringer for fun, aren’t I?”
He pressed a kiss to her spirit lips, but all she felt was a gentle pressure. Yeah, she needed to get her dead ass back into her body ASAP.
Jesse adjusted her grip on the scythe’s handle and peered longingly at the blade. “It’s so beautiful. It just calls to you, doesn’t it?”
“Tell me about it. That’s why I’m in this situation.”
Azrael tucked her hair behind her ear. “Are you ready, my love?”
Her chest tightened at his words. It was a simple term of endearment, but hearing the L-word from his lips created all the feels inside her ghostly form. Whoa.
She shook herself to chase away the strange sensation. There would be time to contemplate the way he made her feel later. Maybe. If she was lucky. “Let’s do this thing.”
Jessie held the scythe toward her, and she gripped the blade before lying back into her body like she’d done before. The angel closed her eyes. “I am instilling you with all the reanimation magic I’ve got. When you’re ready, let go.”
Might as well. Deirdre released the blade, and for a moment, she thought it might be working. But then an electric shock strong enough to fry every light on the Eiffel Tower ricocheted through her body, sending her spirit to the ceiling with a splat.
“Ugh.”
*.*.*.*.*
Azrael cringed as Deirdre hit, and when her spirit flopped down to the floor, he ran to her, kneeling by her side. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m still dead as a door knocker, and I feel like I’ve been fried in a vat of oil with a dozen Boudin balls. No, I’m not okay.”
“Sorry. I tried my best. I’ll put this away now.” Jessie returned the scythe to the closet and closed the door.
Azrael’s heart ached for Deirdre. He could only imagine how painful that must have been for her, but perhaps it was what she needed to convince her she was the problem. Hopefully that was all it would take because he was out of ideas. “What would you like to try next?”
Deirdre sat up, and as her body shuddered, he instinctively wrapped his wings around her. She sighed and leaned into him, the tension in her muscles easing. “How do you always know exactly what I need?”
“I pay attention.” She’d made it clear from the first time they were together that she liked being wrapped in his wings.
“That you do.” She pulled from his embrace, giving him a kiss on the cheek before standing. “I don’t think it’s going to help, but I’ll talk to Jessie.”
“Oh, okay.” He sounded way more disappointed than he intended, but disappointed he was. He rose to his feet and tried not to look too dejected.
“No offense, cher. I just think a neutral party would be best.” She turned to Jessie. “When do we start?”
Jesse looked at Azrael and nodded. “I already cleared my schedule. I am all yours.”
“Y’all knew I would agree to this?” She arched a brow at Azrael.
He lifted his hands. “We hoped you would.” Though he’d hoped she’d want to talk to him about her past.
“You know me too well.” Deirdre glanced at her body and curled her lip. “Can we do this in your office? I think I need some fresh air.”
Azrael flew Deirdre to the counseling center, and as she followed Jessie to her office, he slipped into his own. The décor hadn’t changed since it morphed into the aesthetic Deirdre needed, and the idea that his needs matched hers warmed his soul. They were meant to be together. Of that, he was certain. He felt it in his bones.
He hoped to Hades Jessie could guide her through her grief quickly because they were running out of time. Hell, if she could just rip off the duct tape Deirdre had wrapped around her heart, he could handle it from there. She might be their toughest case yet, but it was possible to move a soul into acceptance in the span of a few hours. He’d done it before. Jessie had too.
Some souls were more open to the idea of death. Deirdre wasn’t one of them, but between Jessie and him, they could help her. They had no other choice.
He sank into his chair and drummed his fingers on his desk, trying his damnedest to squelch the worry churning in his gut. This plan would work. Death and transition were all about acceptance. Deirdre had died when she became a vampire, and she never grieved her loss of life, never fully accepted her transition. It made perfect sense why her body wouldn’t accept her soul as it was. Her body was undead, but her spirit never got over dying.
He picked up the small pink coffin from his desk and fidgeted with the lid. He never rushed his clients, giving them all the time they needed to come to terms with their conditions. But now, for the first time in his existence, he was out of patience with the dead.