RORI LOADED THE SANDWICHES into the press and stared off into space. The grilled eggplant and prosciutto panini were her favorites, but they might as well be cardboard for as much as she would taste them. She made lunch only because she wanted to feed Dec. Af could feed his damn self, and she had no appetite anymore. As they sizzled, she absently sipped at a glass of water. Even the water tasted odd—metallic—and she had to force it down.
Just a few days ago, she’d been busy planning last minute details of her wedding to the most fabulous man on the planet. They were deliriously happy. They had eternity to love each other and she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. Life was perfect. Overnight things had changed. The wedding was postponed. The warm, happy home she’d worked so hard to build was riddled with tension and unhappiness. Dec had been moody and uncommunicative, and Loki had turned traitor and adopted that horrible asshat sulking in the spare bedroom. That creature was on her last nerve, but she was trying really hard to remember he’d been brutally hurt. He was entitled to a little bitterness. She understood that. But did he have to be such a dick?
“Hey, you.” Dec appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Drawing her against his chest, he nuzzled her cheek and squeezed her tightly. She sank into him and closed her eyes. His heart thudded soft and true, calling to hers as it always did. “You okay, love?”
Okay? Not really. She blinked hot tears away before they could fall and turned to kiss him. His soft lips molded to her mouth in a sweet kiss that left her feeling less empty. Pressing her cheek to his chest, she breathed in his scent, letting it ground her. No, she wasn’t okay.
He cuddled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You’re tense. Talk to me. What’s the matter?”
Something deep inside broke. She felt screams of frustration building in the back of her throat. What wasn’t the matter? Was he serious? He’s supposed to know her so well. Why doesn’t he get it? Turning away again, she snapped, “What do you think is the matter? Jesus, Dec. I thought it was obvious.”
He flinched as if she had slapped him.
Surprised? Good!
“Whoa! Hey. What did I do?” He looked as hurt as he sounded.
“You rescued that beast! This is all your fault.”
His eyes hardened, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead he responded logically, “Should I have left him in the park to rot? To suffer? Is that the kind of man you want me to be? I can’t change what’s happened; it sucks but we’ll get it behind us. Everything will fall into place. You’ll see.”
As fast as the anger flared, it vanished. It was impossible to stay mad at him. The second she hesitated his lips curled into a warm smile. “Now, see there. That’s better. You don’t want to be mad at me, do you? We’re getting married in a few days.”
“Are we?”
And bam! Just like that, the smile ran away from his face. “What does that mean? Why wouldn’t we?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . Let’s see. We’ve got a cursed angel crashing in the bedroom. His cheery ass is like napalm around here. You and Sean are about to go hunting again and God only knows what can go wrong with that juicy little mission.” Fueled with all kinds of pent up frustration, she warmed to her tirade. “Oh, and I guess I’m supposed to do all of the rest by myself? Sure! Why don’t I take care of the entire wedding, babysit that tool who’s making my skin crawl, and maybe you can just show your ass up on time? Or, maybe we’ll end up cancelling it—AGAIN!”
“I hate to interrupt the beginnings of knockdown drag out fight, but I smelled smoke.” Af strolled into the kitchen with a malicious sparkle in his eye. Pointing at the counter, he asked, “Is that machine supposed to be smoking?”
“Shut up!” She and Dec shouted at the same time.
His smirk tightened to a hard line as he swung his gaze between the two of them, took a step closer, and stopped. “You two are so unimportant you should be invisible.” With that, he pivoted and left them fuming at his back. Standing stiffly in front of the French doors, he clenched and unclenched his hands. His erect posture seemed ingrained as if he were used to carrying his shoulders higher to support—
Her thoughts crashed to an abrupt halt; her cheeks blanched as she was reminded again of his loss. She should show him more compassion. His wings were gone. It was no wonder he was difficult. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to lose such an important part of herself. It would be worse than losing a hand or a foot. Dec had explained the purpose and power of the angel’s feathers. Losing his wings would be like losing his soul. With his wings pinned, he was no longer able to fly or even teleport. He was stuck on the human plane unless someone took him to Heaven. Or Hell. But no one wanted him in Heaven, and Uriel refused to let him pass through the Gate of Tartarus. Friendless and unloved, he was trapped here.
What would he do when the frustration overwhelmed him? Did angels feel despair? Grief? She had no answers to these questions. Shrugging, she gave her head a little shake to clear the pointless thoughts. There was nothing she could do to help, though she wished there was. His pain and anger were nearly palpable every time he made an appearance. Even the usual positive energy of the penthouse felt off—raw and unstable—it actually made her skin crawl with an icky sense of impending doom. Rubbing the goose bumps on her arms, she dropped her gaze back to Af and sighed. His stony expression was proud, but something bleak flickered just behind his eyes. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. It was how she was built. Always rooting for the underdog.
“Penny for your thoughts, love?” Dec’s teasing voice tickled her ear as he reached over her head to grab some plates. Turning back around, he caged her between his arms and whispered, “You look tired. Maybe you should sit down. I can finish lunch.”
He cupped her elbows with every intention of leading her to the couch, but she resisted with a wan smile. “I’m fine. Just thinking about—” She cut her eyes towards Af and pressed her mouth close to his ear, barely whispering, “—his wings. Poor guy. It breaks my heart.”
“Stop talking about me!” The plates shattered and Af collapsed to his knees with both hands clutching his head, howling in agony.
“Shit.” Shoving her out of the way, Dec bolted to the living room. “Rori, stay back.” Crouching beside Af, his face blank with concentration, he sent an SOS. He hovered with hands poised to help Af to his feet but uncertainty clouded his features.
“Is it safe for you to touch him, Dec?” With real concern sharpening her voice, she skirted the kitchen island and sidled into the living room to get a better look.
“I’ve called Uriel. He’ll know what to do.” He sat back on his heels and frowned. “Af? Can you hear me?”
Af rocked forward until his cheek lay on the cold marble floor with his eyes squeezed shut. The agonized howl had softened to an injured animal groan until finally the only noise was the sound of his labored breathing. The muscles in his powerful back bunched with tension; his knuckles were bone white against the dark tile. Sweat trickled along his jaw. What the heck happened to him?
A slight shift in air pressure announced Uriel before he was corporeal. With a sharp nod in her direction, he went straight to Af, bumping Dec out of the way as he squatted near the angel’s shoulders.
Dressed in a robe over baggy grey pants, Uriel looked like he just rolled out of bed. His hair was tangled; his feet were bare. If things weren’t so serious, she would’ve made a smart comment. One was on the tip of her tongue.
Waving them both back with a wide sweep of his arm, Uriel got to work.
The earthquake inside his head seemed to be over. Af held his breath as another tremor rolled through his brain sending unimaginable pain cresting ahead of it like a tsunami. A pain tsunami. If it didn’t hurt so damn much, he’d laugh at the image that conjured. As he waited for it to ease, he focused on breathing normally and forced his clenched fist to relax. No need to let his audience see him like this. He was the Angel of Wrath! He was above mundane things like pain.
Uriel’s presence made itself known by the hum of energy that vibrated over his skin. He recognized another Angel of Destruction as surely as he recognized his own reflection in a mirror. The catastrophic power was a living thing that they kept under control by sheer force of will—will and more strength than other angels had. As the waves of agony receded to a blistering headache, he risked cracking an eyelid.
Just above him, Uriel made a small sound of relief and cuffed him on the back of the head. “Will you live then?”
“Whatever.” Af pushed himself to his feet, staggering only slightly as he tried to avoid stepping on Uriel’s bare feet. The room swam for a second before he got his bearings. Blinking the tension from his eyes, he rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead and slapped a scowl on his face.
“I’m busy. You know I can’t keep popping up here every time you get your panties in a wad. Did you forget about the block on your energy?”
Fuck.
Yes. He damn sure did. No wonder his head tried to come off. He was really starting to hate that Archangel. “Raphael’s overreacting, Uriel. I’m not a threat to his pet humans. For God’s sake, I’m the Angel of Wrath! Is it too much to understand that I might be ANGRY? Of course my energy is dark! Father made me this way. Do you want friggin’ sunshine and glittery, flower-covered, pansy-ass unicorns to fly out of my ass?”
Cranial pressure built until his left eye twitched and his vision went black. Swaying with dizziness, he eased backwards to rest against the side of the couch. His head throbbed like someone drilled an ice pick through his temple.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it? Every time you get riled up, this is going to happen. Your energy is contained inside your body. It’s going to hurt if you let it build. You’re going to have to keep your temper under control until we figure out what to do with you.”
“What to do with me? What am I some kind of homeless dog? I’m the Angel of Wrath! I need to be free. I need to soar the skies! I need my fucking wings back! I need—” His voice cracked with desperation and he clamped his mouth into a straight line to shut off the pleading tone that was only making him sound pathetic.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Rori chewing her lower lip, indecision and pity etched on her face. She took a hesitant step in his direction, pretty little manicured hands outstretched as if she would comfort him. He didn’t need her help! Ridiculous! Who did she think she was? Damaged little twit! She was more broken than he was. She just didn’t realize it. That made her either the world’s most clueless psychic or a complete idiot. Either way, she wasn’t worth his time. He growled at her and she froze like the sad creature she was.
In the ugliest tone he could manage, he snarled, “That’s right, little girl. Keep away from the big scary angel. I’d hate to hurt you.”
And that washed all remaining color from her face, so he added, “Oh, no wait—maybe I’d enjoy it. Want to find out?”
Her Boy Wonder snapped, “You prick! Don’t talk to my girl like that!” and moved between them as if he were strong enough to do something about it.
“Puny, wingless moron.” With his head throbbing again, he shoved past Uriel and stalked back to his prison cell, aka the bedroom, and slammed the door.
Screw these people.
The next morning, Rori tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She’d wrung every last spark of energy from Dec before they collapsed into their own mini comas of exhaustion. Hers hadn’t lasted nearly long enough though. Pushing away the last remnants of the dream, she forced her scattered emotions to settle down before she accidently woke him up. He’d been worried enough since that creepy Af had shown up. The way he looked at her . . . ewww. Just ewww. Like a bug under a microscope. She was doing her best to keep Dec from knowing how much he was bothering her, but God help her, she didn’t know how much more she could take. Something in the back of his eyes made her feel dirty.
After making her way through the dark house, she brewed a cup of tea and curled up on the corner of the couch. Chamomile tea was rumored to be good at calming jumpy nerves. She blew over the rim and raised it in a toast. Here’s to chamomile. Carefully sipping at it, she let her mind wander to the latest drama that interrupted her sleep this morning.
The dreams were new. Terrifyingly realistic, they didn’t feel like regular dreams. And since she didn’t recognize anyone in them, she was worried they might be visions. Precognitive visions. She didn’t usually have them, but it was possible. Her psychic abilities were still maturing as she learned more about herself. Thanks to Killian, of all people, she’d been working on awareness. Over the past year, she’d learned to recognize tiny clues that warned her of an impending retrocognitive vision. Each vision had a certain feel about it that identified it as a past event. By having some warning it was coming, she was able to mentally prepare. This allowed her to pay more attention to the details that helped Dec and Sean solve their cold cases. It wasn’t a perfect system yet, but it was pretty reliable so far. They’d managed to wrap up ten unsolved cases and give closure to grieving relatives and the troubled detectives who’d been left with more questions than answers. Did she enjoy the glimpses into the past? Not at all. Most of her visions were sad at best, haunting at worst. This was her destiny though, and she’d come to accept it. She understood the soul-wrenching pain of not knowing what had happened to someone you’d lost. Her mother’s fate had been a mystery until Dec had crashed into her life and put the puzzle pieces together. The truth was painful, but at least it was real so people could move on. Yes, she understood closure all too well. If she had to be uncomfortable in order to help someone else, she’d just have to suck it up and press on.
She finished her tea and sat the cup on the coffee table, her mind whirling with thoughts. These latest dreams didn’t feel like past events. They had a more immediate feel to them; almost as if she were watching in real time. Was that possible? That hadn’t happened before. Why now? Closing her eyes, she carefully drew the dream’s images to the foreground of her mind’s eye.
Torrential rain pounded over a shantytown on a tropical beach. The moonless night combined with the sheets of water made everything blurry. Corrugated metal buildings leaned drunkenly against each other; some swayed with the force of the storm. Nearby, a baby screamed, the sound swallowed up by howling wind.
The scene shifted and blurred in a barrage of abstracts in black and red tones that hurt as they flashed behind her eyes until she could bring it back into clear focus again. There wasn’t much to see now. There was only a single image. A black-haired woman screamed and struggled as two soldiers beat her into unconsciousness. Their faces were concealed by shadows, but the woman’s shrieks of “No! No!” sent violent chills running down her spine.
That was it. The dream ended at that point. She’d had this same dream for three nights in a row now. Each night she hoped to take it farther to see if there was more. But so far, this was it. She tapped a nail against her lip. Was it only a stress dream? It did seem to have a few parallels with her life. Was this dream woman actually a representation of herself? She had dark hair. Dec and Sean were soldiers—Killian, too. Hell, even her irresponsible relationship-avoiding father, Keil, was. She was surrounded by immortals with lethal weapons and twitchy trigger fingers. Their lives were dangerous. Put into that context, maybe it was a stress dream about marrying Dec and committing to their dangerous life for eternity. The ‘beating’ was symbolic; not literal.
It fit.
And yet . . .
It didn’t.
She didn’t have any sense of recognition when she focused on the three people. Wouldn’t she feel a connection to them if they were supposed to be people she knew and loved? It felt wrong. Her visions have always been of past events. How did this woman match up to one of Dec’s cold cases? Was the woman dead?
It just didn’t feel the same. She shivered as the sounds of the poor woman’s terrified shrieks echoed in her ears as clear as if she was standing beside her. As the shrieks dissolved into grunts of pain and finally to eerie silence, Rori’s chest tightened with frustrated anger. Why couldn’t she DO something to help her? It wasn’t fair. Sympathetic tears sprang up again and this time she let them fall, though the usual feeling of cleansing didn’t come.
“It’s difficult to carry such a burden all by yourself.”
Af’s soft words were sobering. Stiffening her spine, she swiped the tears from her eyes and disagreed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not carrying any burdens. I had a bad dream.”
Dressed only in a borrowed pair of basketball shorts that hung below his sleek Adonis Belt, he leaned against the wall, scrutinizing her without expression. The silence simmered between them as neither moved. She swallowed a lump that threatened to strangle her. The early morning shadows played havoc with his harsh features. The shifting light deepened the hollows around his eyes and sharpened his slashing cheekbones until his angelic face was more destroyer than savior. Unlike the Primani, his eyes weren’t a brilliant cobalt blue. They didn’t gleam with a low blue flame that spoke of lethal power—and occasionally—lust. His eyes were so deep a blue they seemed black in the darkness. Their inner light was as red as a coal fire. To gaze into those eyes meant loss. Loss of self. Loss of control.
The warning voice inside her brain was shrieking, “Run! Run!” but she didn’t. She made eye contact.
His full lips curled into a smile that didn’t add life to those terrible eyes. On another man, that smile might have been sexy, but on Af, the simple twist of his mouth sent shivers racing over her skin. Fear, not lust, made her heart beat faster, her breath catch in her throat, and her palms drip with icy sweat. His tongue flicked across his lower lip and she stood up so quickly that she knocked over the china cup. It crashed to the floor, the sound breaking the spell.
Without seeming to move, he was suddenly squatting in front of her, picking up pieces of the shattered cup. His knee bumped hers and she jumped as if he’d electrocuted her. He took her by the shoulders and drew her to standing again. Instead of dropping his hands, he held her still, their faces inches apart, his fiery eyes locked onto her face.
“You deny you’re carrying a burden, but your despair speaks of a weight too great to bear alone. One might wonder why you keep such secrets from your beloved.” His rough voice sent the alarm bells clanging again. While he held her captivated for that split second, he dragged his thumbs over the bare skin of her shoulders, the motion entirely too seductive, inappropriate. And his smirk said he knew it. Before she could jerk away, he purred, “If only you could trust him with your darkest fears.”
“I trust him with my life!” She shoved him backwards and darted around the couch to put it between them. “You don’t know anything about us, so why don’t you keep your mouth shut?”
His smile widened as if he found her amusing. “Temper, temper.” He circled the couch, a predator stalking his dinner. “It must be hard trying to fit into his world after growing up so . . . Well, there’s no nice way to describe your pathetic life, is there? Poor little girl with a dead whore for a mother and the ultimate deadbeat father. Shuffled from one foster home to another. No one loved the ugly little girl, did they?”
She was so shocked, she could only gape. Words wouldn’t come no matter how hard she grappled for a stinging comeback. To add to her mortification, angry tears sprung to her eyes. He was getting off on hurting her. She wasn’t there to entertain him. She wasn’t there to wait on him hand and foot. He was using the safe house, but that didn’t mean he had the right to mess with her! She’d been nothing but kind to him, especially since knowing he’d lost his wings. It was a horrible blow and she knew it was tearing him apart inside. Dec should’ve left him to rot in that stupid park. But nooooo. He had to be a friggin’ hero. As usual. With no thoughts at all about how this asshole would disrupt their lives. Well, she wasn’t going to stand for this. She’d talk to Dec—no, make that she’d demand that Dec—get rid of this monster as soon as he got up. In fact, she’d just go wake him the fuck up right now. Why did he get to sleep?
Af’s cold chuckle interrupted her internal tirade with the force of a bucket of ice water over her head. She glanced up to find him staring at her as he absently stroked the shimmering red and black tat on his chest. He traced the infinity loops with the tip of his finger and laughed even harder when she practically lunged at him.
“What?” she hissed.
“You’re almost pretty when you’re in a rage.” He winked at her. The monster actually winked! “No wait. My bad.” He peered closer as if he were giving it serious thought. Picking her apart like a dissected frog, he finally wrinkled his nose in disdain and said, “Not quite.”
It was too much. “You asshole!” The bubbling anger she’d kept locked down erupted and she hurled a stone coaster at his head. He ducked it easily and walked off, leaving her standing there fuming and wanting to murder him, or anyone for that matter, who got too close.
As luck would have it, that someone turned out to be Dec, about two minutes after Af sauntered back to his room. She was still plotting messy ways to cut off his head when Dec came in with Loki hot on his heels. The pooch headed straight to the doors to go pee. She nearly yanked them off their hinges.
Dec’s eyebrows nearly hit the top of his head when Rori jerked the doors open and practically drop-kicked the poor puppy outside. Sensing the danger, Loki swung his ass to the left nearly crab walking through the doors. With a confused glance over his shoulder, he skipped over to the fake grass and watered it while watching Rori for signs of attack.
He knew the feeling. Geez. What was up with her? She didn’t even say good morning, and she seemed to be grinding her teeth. “Is something wrong, love?”
Her head whipped around so fast he was surprised it didn’t fly right off. Her lovely cheetah eyes nailed him to the wall. Um, right. Had he done something wrong? Backpedaling mentally, he replayed everything he’d said or done in the past 24 hours, and then did it again in case he’d missed a clue someplace along the way. They’d made love slowly and thoroughly last night, not once but twice, before drifting to sleep in each other’s arms. Scratching his chin, he studied the stiff set of her shoulders some more. He’d been Orgasm King last night. She had no reason to be cranky. Did she? Did she expect more? They could go back to bed if that’s what she wanted. He was game.
As if reading his mind, she demanded, “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
“Beyond belief. Why?”
And more teeth grinding.
What the hell had he missed? Moving closer, he decided to nut up and gather her into his arms. When she didn’t knee him in the balls or punch him, he took a risk and tipped her chin up so he could kiss her pouty mouth. Gently and tentatively, lest she bite him, he brushed his lips over hers. At first she stayed rigid, but in a second or so she curled her tight body to his. He thumbed her lower lip and teased her mouth open for a long, lingering kiss that should convince her that she was more than beautiful. She was breathtaking. She was a siren he’d never resist. How could she doubt herself?
Just to be sure she got the message, he pressed her back against the wall and feathered his knuckles along the side of her lovely face. “You are more than beautiful, my angel.” Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. “You are breathtaking.” He trailed his mouth over her temples, burying his nose in her hair. “Shall I tell you what I think?”
With head tilted back, she gave him full access to her throat as she softened and opened herself up to him. The more he touched her, the more she melted. Her breath came in shallow pants, her breasts brushing his bare chest as she struggled to breathe.
“Tell me.” Her words were more thought than sound as her head rested against the wall, her body no longer strong enough to hold it up as desire swept through her veins. He smoothed one palm over her breast, cupping it, cradling it as the priceless treasure it was. Her nipple hardened with his attention but he only stroked it softly.
Not in a hurry, he continued to caress her face, kissing the tip of her pert nose. “Your nose is adorable. Perfectly tipped. Sculpted like a Roman goddess.” Next he traced her cheekbones with his mouth, breathing in the spicy fragrance that clung to her skin. “And these cheekbones. Good God, woman. They beg for kisses. Especially when you’re flushing so sweetly.”
Her lush mouth parted for his tongue and he kissed her lazily, taking his time to tease and tempt until she arched her back to be closer to him. Releasing her breast, he slowly dragged his palm down the curve of her waist to grip her hip.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Rori.” When she did, her clear bourbon irises sparkled in the pale morning sunlight. Her thick black lashes framed the most mesmerizing eyes he’d ever seen on any creature. Her eyes clung to his with longing and hope shining in their depths. God help him. He was so lost in her. He held her gaze before lowering his mouth to her ear. “Your eyes swallow me whole. When you look at me, I am lost.”
Her breath hitched and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you so much.” Her thickened words slammed into him with the same force they always did. Her love humbled him; brought him to his knees with the force of the joy in his heart.
Still moving as if she would shatter, he gathered her closer, crushing her breasts to his chest, clutching her ass with both hands, and sliding her over his erection until her breathing turned to moans. She clutched his face between her palms and slammed his mouth over hers.
When they finally came up for air, he was so hard his only focus was throwing her to the floor and making her scream out his name. Instead of going all caveman though, he locked his eyes to hers and vowed, “You are my Heaven. There is nothing more beautiful than that. Don’t doubt yourself. Ever. Got it?”
She nodded with that sexy, dazed half-smile she got when she was really turned on. Her hands roamed along his waist, dipping into his shorts to stroke him. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft until he sucked air through his teeth and arched into her touch. She whispered “I’m so in love with you right now,” as her palm and fingers worked magic on his cock.
Sucking in another breath, he closed his eyes and pushed against her hand, loving the feel of her gentle torture, “Only now?”
Suddenly serious, she used her other hand to stroke his jaw and pressed a kiss over his heart. “Every second of every day. Always.”
“Well, isn’t this charming?”
They froze at the smartass comment from the dick in the kitchen. Af poured himself some orange juice and waved the glass in their direction. “Don’t stop on my account. I like to watch.” He adjusted a bulge in his shorts and smirked. “Let me know if you need any help. I haven’t heard Rori screaming at night, so I’m willing to offer some tips.”
Rori yanked her hand out of Dec’s shorts like it was on fire.
Before he could get a word out, Af offered, “Or I could just take care of her for you since you don’t have the cajones to do it right. She’s not even cute, but hey, she’s already juicy and ready to go. I’ll just keep my eyes shut.”
He was choking the shit out of Af before he even knew what he was doing. The roaring in his ears drowned out the rest of the world. He was going to rip this prick apart with his bare hands.
Af drove his knee into his gut and used that distraction to loosen Dec’s grip long enough to breathe. With a great lungful of air, he threw Dec against the marble island, pinned him in place with a forearm across his windpipe, and snarled, “You want to kill me? Give it your best shot.”
“You got it.” With that, he slammed his forehead into Af’s face and plowed him into the opposite counter. Glasses went flying; dishes crashed to the floor. Loki howled.
Af might be bigger than he, but Dec was supercharged with a fury he’d never known. How dare this douchebag talk about Rori like that? She’s a good woman. Kind, considerate . . . His fist slammed into Af’s jaw, once, twice, and once more for good measure. Selfless, giving . . . Af’s head snapped back with each blow until his eyes rolled back in his head and his hands fell to his side.
Hauling him upright for a little nose-to-nose, Dec demanded, “You done yet?”
In response, Af gazed at him with a hint of a smile twisting his bloody mouth. His chuckle was barely audible, but it raised the hair on the back of Dec’s neck. His swollen eyelids fluttered and he whispered, “Bravo.”
“Dick.” Disgusted, Dec flung him to the floor and turned to check on Rori.
She was gone.
Rori couldn’t have been more horrified if she had woken up to find herself walking buck naked through Times Square during rush hour. Not only had that revolting Af creature caught them making out—with her hand wrapped around Mr. Crowley, no less—he shot Dec down with his ugly comments. For an angel, he was a complete tool. She wanted to rip his throat out and she was one of the most non-violent people she knew! Everything about him set her teeth on edge. His smarmy comments, his slimy insinuations, and the way he talked to her as if she were garbage. How dare he? She’d never done anything to him! Since he’d been there, she’d only tried to help him be more comfortable. The first couple of days he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t talk. She’d gone out of her way to bring him food, urge him to talk, offer sympathy. He shoved her away every time.
The fight was ugly. But then so was Af’s attitude. His face was bleeding from his nose, mouth, and a gash on his cheek. Served him right. Go Dec! She watched Dec’s fist collide with his mouth again and winced as a spray of blood hit the wall behind the sink. Ewww. Okay, that’s probably enough violence for one morning. She took a step towards the kitchen when the walls began to undulate, the floor shifted ninety degrees, and her vision went black.
She opened her eyes with a splitting headache, a nasty taste in her mouth, and a huge sigh of resignation. Great. Where was she now? Peering around without moving her body, she took a deep breath and regretted it instantly. Jesus! What was that smell? Gagging, she pinched her nostrils shut and stood up. A gutted fish carcass clung to her ass for a split second before falling away with a soft thud into a pile of other dead fish.
“Really?” She threw her hands up to the universe. “Out of all the places for me to land, you feel the need to dump me in a pile of dead fish? This is beyond gross.” Brushing who knows what else off of her shorts, she picked her way from behind the three-foot high retaining wall that seemed to divide the fish dump from a shack on a short, rickety pier. It was empty at the moment. Of course it was. It felt like the middle of the night. The moon was buried behind a band of thick tropical clouds. The air was drinkable with the threat of rain. Her skin prickled and every sweat gland in her body shifted into high gear. A wasp-sized mosquito and four of its best buds landed on her arm.
This sucked big time, but she might as well see what was up. The spontaneous projections were rare these days, so this must be important. The big reveal could wait a minute though. In between swatting at more mosquitos and keeping an eye out for people, she took time to braid her hair to get the heavy mass off of her sweaty neck. Ugh! It was hot. Time to move. The sooner she saw what she needed to see, the sooner she got to leave.
The pier she’d woken up on wasn’t alone. There were ten other ramshackle wooden piers jutting from the rocky shore. Some of them were topped with tiny shacks like this one, while others had shady-looking boats tied to them. The boats ranged from rowboats to one or two sleek cabin cruisers. Across the water, a foreboding mountain range dominated the landscape. Behind her, a shantytown sprawled in all its ugly glory. The corrugated metal roofs gleamed dully with an occasional flash of lightning from the storm building above them. A gust of wind lifted her braid and brought faint male voices with it. She froze.
Carefully slipping into the nearest fish shack, she peered between the warped boards that made up the walls. From her vantage point, she had a clear view of the street that led away from the docks. It seemed to wind upward to the left into the town. Thunder rumbled from across the water, the storm building its momentum as it crossed the mountains. Another flash of lightning snagged her eye. There!
Hugging the shadows—not just a man—a soldier. Moving as quietly as a wraith, he swung his head back and forth, studying the street, carrying an AR-15 like an extension of his body. That lovely feeling of impending doom smacked her dead between the eyes. Behind him, three others snaked along; all heavily armed as well. As they got closer, the soft crunch of boots on gravel broke the heavy stillness. She caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulder. Things were about to get bloody.
After a few minutes, she counted six men. One by one, they passed her hiding place and headed into the town. There was only one thing to do now. She didn’t want to follow, but the vision wouldn’t let her go if it wasn’t important. She wasn’t in any danger. Whatever was happening had already happened. She couldn’t change it; she was only a watcher. No, she couldn’t change a thing, but she sure as hell could watch in horror as people died. It was awesome being psychic. Not.
Just as she started to slip away from the building, something moved on the water.