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“Izzy?” The panicked voice dragged Izzy’s mind from a black pit.
“Oh, God.” Her concern grew a few decibels. “Please wake up? She’s going to kill me. Please be okay.”
Izzy would recognize the sweet, genuine panic anywhere. The information helped him shed more of the clouds. He forced his eyes open, and every inch of him creaked in protest.
“Thank you, thank you.” Relief trickled into Tia’s voice.
Izzy wanted to know what she was doing here, but Holden was a higher priority.
“Let him breathe, miss,” Holden said.
Relief spilled through Izzy.
Holden sat on the scorched couch. Black smudges scored large portions of his bare skin, including some new holes in his shirt, and the back of the sofa was the only thing keeping him upright.
The wet, soggy sofa... Damn it. Izzy forced himself into a sitting position.
Where Abaddon preferred lightning, Tia’s element was water.
Izzy tried to brace himself as he surveyed the apartment. His gut sank at the sight of singed books dripping with water. Not again. He turned to Tia, not wanting to look at the destruction. “Why are you here?”
She wove her fingers together, not meeting his gaze. “I can’t say. But I have to tell Ronnie you’re okay. Fuck, I should have called her first. But I couldn’t tell her you were dead. What if—”
“Tia.” Izzy rested a hand on her arm, cutting her off. She’d ramble for hours if he let her. “Don’t call anyone yet. First, tell me why you’re here.” More of the morning rushed back to him on a wave of lightning, making his entire body cringe. “And why a giant ball of electricity crashed through my window.”
“I can’t. I mean, I can call Ronnie. I have to. She’ll be furious if I don’t. Do I need to call you an ambulance? But I can’t tell you about the why, or the what, or the who, or—”
“Stop.” Izzy should have only asked her one question. Tia wasn’t flighty. She just lost focus and tended to follow every thought at the same time. He held her gaze, keeping his expression steady, despite the throbbing ache growing behind his eyes. He needed to lie down, but first, she was going to confirm his suspicions, and probably deal a massive blow to his ego in the process. “Why?”
She finally turned away. “You’re my assignment.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Holden’s voice was scratchy and strained. “But I have to ask what you are. Otherwise, I might be jealous that Izzy has so many impossibly attractive women at his beck and call.”
She glanced back at him, eyes wide. “I’m—Um ... a friend. From church.”
“Which is why I’ve never once seen you in the church. Makes perfect sense.” Heavy sarcasm lined Holden’s response.
Tia’s eyes narrowed, and she was on her feet in a flash, stalking toward him. Any hesitation vanished. “Listen, I didn’t have to save you. I don’t know you from bubblegum on the bottom of my shoe. But since Izzy likes you, you get a pass. Back off, because your curiosity is pretty fucking insignificant in the grand scope of what’s going on here.”
Where did that come from? The mini-tirade was extremely not like Tia. “She’s a demon,” Izzy explained. Maybe he should be more delicate with information like that. Save the conversation until they’d discussed more about what Holden could and couldn’t see. But the last few minutes had snapped a few of Izzy’s filters.
Tia’s pout returned in an instant. “Am not.”
And bipolar? “Because it just spontaneously rained in my apartment? Why am I your assignment?”
She spun back to face him, lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Don’t take it personally.” Now that her panic had ebbed—Izzy assumed over how Ronnie would react if she’d let him die—Tia could carry on a conversation. “You’re not the only one with a guardian angel or demon. You’re just the only one who’s local.”
“Did you have to destroy my books?”
“Your apartment was on fire. You’re welcome.” She pulled her phone from the satchel hanging from her wrist and jabbed the screen several times.
“I told you not to call Ronnie.” Izzy wanted answers, not more coddling.
“I didn’t. I texted her.” Her eyes never left the device. “She’s in meetings, this is faster.” Her phone beeped. “We’re moving you.”
“Bullshit we are.” He forced himself to stand. The room spun at a dizzying speed, and his legs threatened to give out. “That’s not your call.
“Nope. It’s hers.” Tia held up the phone, screen toward him, to show him the message from Ronnie.
Sometimes having friends in high—or low—places sucked. “It’s not her call either. Are you going to knock me out and kidnap me?”
She bit her bottom lip, and her brow furrowed. He could almost hear the debate raging in her head over which instructions were more important, getting him out of here, or keeping him from getting hurt. “I’ll be back,” she said.
Tia stomped out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Izzy picked his way to the couch and collapsed next to Holden. Wet foam squidged around them, but he was beyond caring. Izzy dropped his head against the back of the sofa.
When Holden brushed a damp lock of hair from Izzy’s forehead, a pleasant tingle nudged aside some of his irritation. “You know some interesting people,” Holden said.
Interesting was one way to put it. Izzy forced a smile. “It’s not as swell as it sounds. Are you sure you want to stick around? Apparently it’s not safe here.”
“What are you going to do? If it’s not safe for me, the same goes for you.”
The concern in his voice warmed Izzy. Every inch of his body begged him to take a nap. He had things to do, though. He’d pop a couple Aspirin. The urge to survey his apartment threatened to rear its head, and he ignored it. He couldn’t stand to see so many damaged books again so soon. “I have to pay a friend a visit.”
“Someone who blows things up and vanishes, or drenches rooms in water? What kind of friend?” Holden’s dry humor made Izzy laugh in spite of the aches.
“The normal, library kind of friend. I need to research some things up, and—” Izzy nodded at the room, “—I can’t do it here.”
“Do you want company?”
He did. He wasn’t in the mood to be hovered over by Tia, or anyone from heaven or hell, but Holden would keep him sane. Besides, the research Izzy wanted to do revolved around prophets. He wanted to could fit the pieces around Holden together better. Taking a living, breathing, sexy source with him would help.
“I’d love the company,” Izzy said. “I have to change first, though.” It was tempting to ask if Holden was still interested in joining him in the shower. But physically Izzy was going to have a hard time walking without wincing. He definitely wasn’t up for more. “Meet me on the street in thirty?”
Holden gestured around the apartment. “What are you going to do about this? Don’t you need to call the cops or something?”
Izzy had no idea what to do. What would he tell police? A vengeful agent of the archangel Gabriel tried to execute me. Please stop her. “I’ll figure it out.”
Holden winced as he stood. He flexed, stretched, and then hesitated. He dipped down, hands on either side of my head, and brushed his lips over mine. “Downstairs, thirty minutes. Don’t stand me up. And don’t shave.”