Michael
“What the hell are you doing, Michael?”
Luke’s voice intruded on my thoughts as I viciously scrubbed the kitchenette in my cabin. I resisted the urge to snap at him as I threw down the sponge and turned to face him.
“What the fuck are you doing in my cabin?” Okay, so I sucked at resistance.
“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” My older brother raised a golden blond eyebrow as he tipped his head. “I mean, I’m not expecting rainbows and unicorns, but usually you’re usually a lot more mellow. Someone piss you off?”
He could say that. After we took the victims of sexual assault and forced prostitution to the shelter, the fury over their hurts hit me at odd moments. Like now. I stared hard at the bubbles in sink, trying to find beauty and peace in their iridescent marbled surfaces as I strove to calm down.
“What do you want, Luke?”
He tried to look innocent. Heh, the devil innocent? Not likely.
“Can’t I stop by to see my younger brother?”
“Seriously, I don’t need your poking. What do you want?”
Luke sighed as he ran his hand over the angel wing tattoo on the back of his bald head. “I just wanted to check on you. You haven’t been yourself since you raided that make-shift brothel. I half expected to come in here and find everything painted black. What’s going on?”
I sighed. Anger was exhausting, but I couldn’t seem to shake it. “Nothing.”
“Come on. We’re not teenagers anymore.” He smirked. “Come to think of it, we never were teenagers. That would’ve been fun. Can you imagine cruising the streets, lookin’ at hot chicks?”
I snorted. “I suspect you’ve done that thousands of times already.”
“Hey, no one ever told those kids to do shit like that, I just never bothered to rein ’em in.”
I rubbed my forehead and reached for what was left of my legendary patience. “Why are you really here, Luke?”
He lost his smirk. “I really am worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this. You always bounce back. What happened?”
I dropped the sponge and turned on the water to wash my hands and rinse the sink. “I seem to have lost my faith in humanity.” As his smirk widened, I held up my hand. “Don’t. I don’t need to hear it. I just don’t understand how humans could do such horrible things to each other for the simple gain of money.”
Luke frowned. “Come on. You’ve seen this for millennia. The powerful hurting and killing others for gold, land, hell, even water. They create wars just to make a buck. What makes this time any different?”
I shook my head. “I dunno. I guess I’m tired. Tired of battling the same shit, different century. Tired of comforting the victims of all these atrocities brought on by their own people. I’m tired of the love of money decimating everything around us.”
“Are you listening to yourself, Michael? You’re part of the Concrete Angels MC, a group that runs drugs and weapons to make money. Drugs and weapons hurt people every day. Isn’t this a bit hypocritical?”
I scowled. “I joined Loki’s crew to keep him in balance with you. We’re two sides of the same coin and we balance out Loki’s chaotic neutral. We balance the scales of action and consequence”
“Right, and without us, Karma wouldn’t have anything to do. None of this has changed, but you’re still pissed off. What gives?”
I sighed again and slumped into a chair, rubbing my face. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. It’s all the same shit, day after day, year after year, without getting any better and nothing to look forward to. I think I’m losing faith in the world. Why defend people who seek destruction, pain, sickness, and the very atrocities they claim to abhor? What the hell am I doing here?”
For the first time, Luke wore real concern on his face. “Michael, you’re the one who told me to look for the good things in times of darkness, and glory knows, I’m supposed to be the harbinger of darkness. But one thing my millennia of being the Devil has taught me is people only let the darkness rule for so long, then they rise up with light bright enough to blind. There’s an ebb and flow to their love of light or dark. It’s a cycle they have to learn from. Without the dark, they can’t appreciate the light. And they totally need us both.”
He reached out to grip my shoulder. “They need me to be the Dark One, the one they revile and blame for all the wrongs in the world, including their own choices. And they need you to be the bright, shining example of love, compassion, and determination that allows them to swing back the other way. You’re not really fighting for them, Michael. It’s more that you’re fighting to show them the very best they can be and how to vanquish their own inner demons.”
I considered what he’d said, wondering who would fight my inner demons. No one knew my brother very well, though they claimed they had an insight into him. But only myself and a few others knew his secret. He’d been asked to take this role rather than “fell from Heaven” as the humans told it. And he’d accepted, with far greater grace than even I possessed. He’d become the Dark One everyone blamed, because he had the most compassion of all of us.
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but isn’t there some brightness you’ve seen that helps you find the good again?”
I opened my mouth to deny it when the face of the woman who’d taken the kids filled my mind. Her name was Haley. Like my big brother, she’d shown nothing but compassion to the child victims, listening to them as she led them through the shelter. She had a strength in her kindness and presence that called to me with a yearning I’d forgotten in all my millennia with humans.
“Ah ha, what just went through your mind?”
Damn Luke’s sharp perception.
“Nothing.”
Luke snorted. “Don’t hand me that. I can tell when you’re thinking of something good. You actually glow, you know that? Might want to tone down your grace a little when you think of…them. It’s a them, isn’t it?” He batted his eyes with excited delight. “Oooh, tell me about them. Tell me everything!”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. “Sod off, you wanker.”
“Oh, no. Not after that reaction. I told you all about Angelina, now you have to tell me who it is that makes you find the light in the dark.”
I didn’t want to tell him about Haley, not until I knew her better myself. But Luke had a way of pestering people until they either threatened to kill him—which was never a good idea—or they gave in. I was stronger than most, but it was usually easier just to give him what he wanted.
I’d only met her once—and stole a kiss from her—but she’d seen my wings, which weren’t normally visible. Except to those who are our true mates. True, other angels could see our wings, and sometimes the other Elder Races could as well, but humans were usually oblivious. I’d originally blamed her momentary vision on my distraction.
I’d only been at the museum because we’d been tracking one of the cops on our erstwhile member Roy’s list of Backlog members. He’d quit the Fort Collins PD and hired on as a security guard at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science. I’d managed to get one of Viper’s little spy gadgets onto his phone, but he thought I was trying to pick-pocket him when I put the phone back and that engendered the chase through the museum.
I don’t know what made me kiss her. Maybe it was because I knew the goodness of her heart after I’d seen her take in those kids at the shelter. Whatever the reason, once I’d kissed her, I couldn’t get her off my mind, and it worried me. She’d been there with the press, which meant she was a reporter of some kind. Not a good combination with a biker with dubious humanity.
“I don’t really have someone.” I shook my head and he dropped his chin with a dry look. “Seriously. I’ve never actually met her.”
Luke laughed. “You know, your shoulders twitch when you lie. You should really try to curb that tell.”
I scowled. “I’m not lying. I’ve spoken maybe three words to her.”
“And?”
“What and? How do you know there’s an and?”
“Because I know you. Have your doubts about your worthiness of love totally derailed you?”
“What the hell has love got to do with it?”
“Hey, hell is my bailiwick, so let’s just leave that out of it.” Luke grinned and thumped my shoulder. “Love has everything to do with it. Well, at least to do with you.”
My scowl deepened. “I’m the Archangel Michael, for glory’s sake. I’m a warrior not a lover. The lover is Gabriel’s role.”
“And I’m known as the Devil in most circles, but we both know the truth. Or at least I do.” Luke squeezed my shoulder. “It’s okay to fall in love. Anyone would be lucky to win your heart.”
I shrugged him off. “She didn’t win my heart and I didn’t win hers. She doesn’t even know me.”
“Well then.” He gave me his best wicked grin. “That’s the first thing we need to change.”
I swallowed hard. When Luke wore that look, it usually meant things didn’t go as expected or remotely well. At least, not for me, or the person he had in mind. I just hoped the woman I’d kissed wouldn’t hate me for it in the end.
****
Haley
Tori had given me the list and I was all set to start researching the backgrounds of the people on it, but Carl had called and reminded me I’d promised to go with him to this Valentine’s Day party filled with newsie movers-and-shakers. I hadn’t wanted to go and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be with Carl anymore, but I’d promised and despite being a hardnosed reporter, I stood by my word. There wasn’t much integrity in reporters these days and I had to find something that made me stand out from my colleagues. So I picked truth and honesty. Not exactly the best qualities for a reporter who didn’t want to be stuck writing fluff pieces.
So now I was alone at a Valentine’s Day party, trying to avoid a predacious drunk guy and wishing I could just get home. At least I had the list of names of the crooked cops in this vast network in law enforcement. I damn near salivated with the idea of being home with my computer and my search engines.
Yeah, while I get to stand here and look like a stupid wallflower.
I stared at Carl, my soon-to-be-ex boyfriend as he cozied up to two women who had bigger boobs and more makeup than I did. He hadn’t bothered to introduce me so I wasn’t sure if they were the movers and shakers to whom he’d promised to introduce me, or just their main squeezes, but after his hands wandered to their asses, I didn’t really want to meet them at all.
They might be high-priced hookers too.
Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me. Inching my way toward the buffet to escape the drunk guy who’d zeroed in on me, I tried to find a quiet corner. Or a phone. Or locate someone who might help my career if I talked to them. I slid past some women who gave me a once-over that said they didn’t see much worth value and checked my phone. Maybe I can call Tori to come pick me up.
Except the phone sat dead in my hand like a little sparkly paperweight. No, no, no. My phone couldn’t be dead. I’d just charged it that afternoon, and I needed it to get out of this place. Carl was my ride and I couldn’t rely on him. I glanced in his direction and grimaced. He was getting handsy with a redhead. I looked around for a phone in the room, but the drunk guy was still lurching after me like a bad B-rate movie zombie and I needed an escape fast.
And that’s why they call them ‘fire escapes.’ I ducked out the emergency exit and closed the door, hoping zombie-guy wouldn’t follow. Hopefully, I would be safe to find a quiet and calm place to think. Since my phone’s dead and I’m stuck here for a while.
I sat down on the cool concrete steps of the back stairs and rubbed my face with my hands. I swore I’d never put myself in this position again, but here I was, sitting on some back staircase with nothing but my dress, my high heels, my phone, and what little privacy I’d found. You’re so dumb and trusting, Haley. Which was pretty stupid considering I was supposed to be an investigative journalist.
Thank glory I didn’t have my ID on me. Of course, when they find your body, that’ll make it harder to identify you. Oh yeah, I was full of those cheerful thoughts. So much for getting into the holiday spirit.
I wrapped my arms around my chest and leaned my elbows on my thighs. I was safe at the moment. Despite the pounding bass coming through the emergency exit doors, the stairwell was relatively quiet. A little light filtered through the dingy windows from the street lights outside, but otherwise, it was dark. So far, no one else had found this little oasis of calm to have a quickie or a good cry. Although I’m getting close to the second one.
I’d come here with the guy I’d thought was my boyfriend. Carl had sworn it was going to be a fun holiday party with the YouPros—Young Professionals, the new millennium’s Yuppies—of Fort Collins. In Denver. He’d said it was where anyone who was anyone would be at this time of year. For Valentine’s Day? I hadn’t really wanted to go, but he said I’d make contacts with the news corp. He played you, Haley. Yeah, it wasn’t the first time. Eventually, I’d get wise.
I shoved the unhappy thoughts of the past away and scrubbed my face. I should’ve known there was something going on. Carl seemed to be getting twitchy, like a guy who’d been using something addictive. He’d also had the look of frenzied desperation, the kind of look on people jonesing for the next best thing, and I totally bought into it. Right up until he started playing tonsil hockey with not one, not two, but three of the partygoers, one of them a guy. Yeah, can’t compete with that. Now I was in the position of no ride, not enough money for a taxi to Fort Collins, and no understanding of where the hell I actually was. Yeah, I had my phone, but I couldn’t tell anyone where to come get me.
I’m so fucked.
I needed to find a way home from here, but that meant going back through the party to get out of the building. This staircase led to the basement, and there was no way in hell I was going down there. Hello, serial killerville. I pulled out my phone to check what time it was and remembered it was deader than a door nail. Shit. So much for GPS or calling the cavalry.
I bit my lip and considered the door I’d come through. I might be able to find a phone if I went back to the party. Hell, I could probably lift one off one of the guests and they’d never notice. Those old pickpocketing skills came in handy in the oddest times.
Sighing, I stood up and pulled my skirt back down to the proper length. Yeah, I’d be getting rid of this dress as soon as I got home. I hated when the fitted skirts rode up. All right, Michaels. Let’s do this. I grasped the door handle and pulled.
Nothing happened.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I yanked on the door, but the latch held despite using all of my hundred and sixty-five plus pounds of weight. The door was locked and no one could hear me in the party. And my phone was dead.
“Oh my GLORY!” I slammed my hand against the door, hoping someone might actually hear me over the damn music, but no one came to check it out. “Fuck!”
Biting my bottom lip, I looked up the staircase. Maybe one of the other doors were unlocked and I could at least get back into the building. I memorized the floor number on the party’s door and climbed the stairs to the next floor.
I was about to bang on it, but I paused when I heard what sounded like voices coming from the other side. Logically, it would’ve made sense to thump on the door and have them open it for me. But something made me pause. The voices weren’t loud, but they didn’t sound happy or particularly friendly. Maybe I didn’t want them to know I was there.
This was confirmed a moment later when someone said, “You shoulda thought of that before you went up against Backlog. You was warned. Now you’re gonna pay.”
What the hell is Backlog?
Before I could peer up the stairs, I heard someone shout what sounded like, “No, wait! Don’t!” Just before two gun shots rang out.
I gasped and froze, holding my breath. Not that they knew I was there, but I wasn’t about to take any chances they’d notice me.
“All right, come on. Get his legs and throw him in the stairwell. They won’t find him until we’re long gone. And don’t forget to police your brass.”
Stairwell? Fuck! Whatever they were planning to do, it involved my stairwell and they were very likely to see me. And shoot my unlucky ass. Panic hit me in a wave and I backed away from the door, my shoes clattering loud enough to be heard over the party.
Swearing under my breath, I bent over and yanked off my heels before I padded down several steps and ducked under the curve of the stairs. I flattened myself against the wall as the door above me opened and light spilled into the stairwell. I didn’t dare move as two guys dropped something heavy onto the steps, grumbling about the weight.
“Shit, did the guy have to eat all those frozen pizzas? He’s fuckin’ heavy.”
“Shut up, Inky. Just make sure he’s got no ID on him.”
Inky snorted. “How’s that gonna help? His fuckin’ face is all over the newspapers and internet. Takin’ his ID won’t hide who he is.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and get some cops who don’t know who he is.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Look, just clear his pockets and let’s get outta here. I don’t want any of those partiers findin’ us here with him. Backlog says we got too much to do in prep for the big boss comin’ to town.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on.” There was some rustling as they rifled through the body’s pockets. “Okay, I think I got everything. Keys, phone, wallet, and Chapstick. No wonder his lips looked so soft.”
“Eww, Inky, that’s nasty.”
“No, nasty is your lips, Tinder. There’s no excuse for not keeping your lips healthy. You know the skin is the biggest organ on your body, right?”
Their voices faded as the door above started to close. Too late I realized that was my only ticket out of the stairwell with the dead guy. I whimpered with distaste and padded back up the stairs, hoping I’d be able to catch the door before it latched.
Turns out, I needn’t have worried. The dead guy’s foot had caught in the door, holding it open about an inch. I glanced down at the body’s face as I made to pass it and stopped, my stomach dropping into my bare feet.
“Holy shit, that’s ADA Patrick O’Donnell.”
Inky had been right. Everyone knew Assistant District Attorney O’Donnell and they wouldn’t need his ID to identify him. And I’d been present at the scene of his murder. Without a functioning phone. This night just kept getting better and better.
I had to find a way to both report on the ADA’s death and get home anonymously because I couldn’t do a damn thing about a dead guy in the stairwell. Whoever Backlog was, they were powerful enough to take out a famous ADA, and I didn’t want them to find out about me. I crept up to the door and peered around the edge. The room beyond looked like a new office space with furniture wrapped in plastic and boxes of office equipment piled around. Nothing remained of the murder except some blood splatter on the floor and plastic wrap.
I reached for the door to pull it open but stopped. Think forensics. The last thing I wanted to leave were footprints or fingerprints. I used the heel of my shoe to pull the door open wide enough to slip through, careful not to step in any of the blood. I wanted to bolt toward the elevators, but I forced myself to go slow enough to miss smudging the evidence. Forensics, forensics, forensics.
I made it to the elevators and used the heel of my shoes to press the down button. Take only mental pictures and leave nothing else. Yeah, didn’t have the same ring to it as the usual line, but I didn’t want to broadcast my involvement. I put my shoes back on, the heels tight and cold, and stepped into the car. Shit, how am I gonna press the floor number?
I stood there a few moments, trying to decide when I remembered the party on the next floor down. Hundreds of people had pressed that floor number to get to it. Mine would be with everyone else’s print on the button. Despite that reassurance, I used the hem of my dress to cover my finger as I made my selection.
I could hear the holiday music long before the doors opened and the volume blasted at me as soon as they did. I grimaced and stepped into the room, the party going full swing. More so if the bra hanging from the overhead light fixture is any indication. People were “dirty dancing” in the middle of the room where they’d pushed the furniture aside. Some were pretty good at it—er, correction, those people might actually be having sex—while others swayed drunkenly along the edges. One woman bent over, her shoulders heaving as she puked. On her knees. In some guy’s lap? Definitely not puking.
Holy shit, I’d gone away for about an hour, and the party turned into a drunken holiday orgy while the ADA got murdered upstairs. Might as well have been the Nakatomi Plaza. Yippy-kai-yay, mudfucker. I spotted my “date” sharing a ménage with the man and women he’d been hanging around earlier and headed for the coat room. Was sex at a holiday party considered prostitution? I didn’t really want to know. I had to find a phone.
I threw my coat over my shoulders and shoved my arms through the sleeves just as someone stumbled into me. Two someones. I lost my balance and fell into the mass of coats on the hangers, dropping to the floor. A high-pitched giggle was followed by the sound of a belt buckle coming undone and a drunken male grunt.
“Oh, yeah, baby. Whip out that man-meat.”
They’re not gonna—Never mind.
Another male grunt combined with a matching female grunt and the sound of bodies hitting the wall, rhythmically, filled the coatroom space. The scent of arousal mixed with alcohol perfumed the air and I rubbed my face with my hands. I so don’t need this.
Gritting my teeth, I stood up and pushed my way through the coats. “Excuse me.”
The woman squawked, which was pretty impressive since the guy had her damn near folded in half against the wall as he jack-hammered into her. He didn’t even pause as I shoved past. leaving them to their conjugal relations as I returned to the elevators. I needed to get out of here and find a phone.
And a ride. How the hell was I gonna get home? What I really need is a guardian angel. I stepped onto the elevator and let it carry me away from the folks getting carried away upstairs. If the lobby didn’t have a phone I could use, I’d go to the little convenience store across the street and beg them to call the cops.
When the elevator doors opened, I headed for the security desk as I checked to be sure I had my dead phone and my keys. Yeah, I didn’t have a ride home, but I could get in when I got there. I’m definitely done with Carl. Maybe I’d break up with him over text message. Nah, that was low even if he deserved it. I’ll send him an email. I couldn’t help the smirk curling my lips as I slipped behind abandoned desk.
Where the hell is the security guard?
I shook my head and built up my gasping breaths as I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
“Nine-One-One, what’s your emergency?”
“Oh my gawd, oh my gawd, there a dead guy. I think he was shot. He’s in the stairwell. Oh my gawd.” I thought I sounded properly panicked as I turned my face away from the few security cameras I could see from the desk.
“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and tell me where you are.”
“I was at a party. On the ninth floor of the Turner Williams Building downtown in Denver. I am calling Denver’s emergency line, right? Oh my gawd. I heard him get shot and then they threw him in the stairwell.”
“Okay, ma’am, I’m dispatching emergency personnel and police to your location. Just stay on the line while I get your name and number.”
Oh hell no. They’d killed the ADA of Denver while mentioning Backlog. There was no way I’d give my name to anyone. But I’d make sure the cops knew all they needed.
“I was just going out for a smoke and I got locked outta the party, but then I heard the shots and the guy was thrown in the stairwell and now he’s dead and bleeding and—”
“Ma’am, the police and emergency personnel are on their way. Let’s start with your name.”
I had to admit the dispatch operator had a voice full of nothing but serenity and bliss. Or at least Ninja-level calm.
“Oh my gawd, someone’s coming. They might see me. I gotta go.” And I hung up with a satisfied nod.
I took my scarf and wiped down the phone so I didn’t leave fingerprints—Think forensics—and slipped from behind the desk. I kept my face averted from the cameras but scanned the area for the security guards. Where had they all gone? Surely, they didn’t take this long for a bathroom break.
I zipped up my coat and headed for the doors. I wasn’t gonna wait around for the cops to show up and I didn’t really need anyone remembering I’d been here. I doubted Carl would remember his first name by the time he was done with those people upstairs. I shook my head and wondered how I’d start the “Dear Carl” email.
Probably with, Dear Carl, it’s not me, it’s you.
I laughed aloud but cut the sound off the moment I stepped outside. My breath stalled in my chest as I came to an abrupt stop. My gaze landed on the man waiting for me on a black, opalescent Harley.
Holy moly, it’s the guy from the Denver Museum.
He wore faded black jeans, a white scarf, and a black leather jacket with a gargoyle riding a motorcycle on it. The patch read SCHNOZ and I remembered those wise eyes and large nose. His eyebrows went up under his black brain bucket as he caught sight of me and my heart pounded for a completely different reason.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” His voice reminded me of warm fleece blankets and the comforting rumble of a well-kept engine.
How the hell would I answer that? I couldn’t tell him it was an accident—hell, I’d been invited to the party upstairs. But it might start to look hinky if I told him about the dead body in the stairwell.
“I was at a Valentine’s Day party and my date found someone else to hang with.” I shrugged as I mentally broke up with Carl. It would be awkward going to work on Monday, but that was more on him than me. Again, I wished my phone hadn’t died. The blackmail photos would’ve been to die for.
I bit my bottom lip. “Do you think you could let me use your phone to call someone to take me home?”
His dark eyes ran the length of me starting at my head, dropping to my feet and rising to my face. “I could. Or I could just give you a ride since I’m already here and we met at the museum.” He winked.
“Where I thought you had wings.” Only the Mojave Desert was dryer than my voice.
He shrugged and grinned. “I blame my cut for that. I am part of the Concrete Angels MC after all.”
And I wished for a guardian angel to come get me.
His grin faded into surprise as if he heard my thought. “Anyway, I’m here. How ’bout I give you a ride home?”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “You might have kissed me at the museum, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you where I live.” I heard the sirens of the cops and took a couple steps closer to him. “But I will let you take me to a coffee shop or somewhere I can get something warm to drink. What do you say?”
I hoped my voice didn’t sound too desperate, but I really wanted to get away from the Turner Williams building before the police showed up. He raised an eyebrow at my bold move and shot a look toward the sirens. My heart rate went up. Did he suspect I knew something about the sirens? Or that I was trying to get away from them?
Hell, he should be wanting to get away from them, too. When anything went wrong, the cops often blamed the dangerous-looking biker dudes first. And hot damn, is he dangerous-looking. Which was why my self-preservation mode wasn’t sure which was worse for me, the cops or the biker dude.
“I might know a place that has good coffee. But it’s Valentine’s Day. Shouldn’t your boyfriend take you somewhere nice?”
I barely stopped the grimace and shrugged. “What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” Especially since the man-whore upstairs wasn’t getting anywhere near me ever again.
He shot me a half-smile. “A beautiful woman like you should be beating men off with a stick.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Maybe it’s my winning personality. Let’s get out of here. I’d rather not be here when the cops arrive.” I didn’t wait for his invitation as I hiked up my skirt and straddled his bike behind him.
“How do you know the cops are coming here?”
I snorted. “Because I called them. Can we go?”
He laughed and the sound washed over me like springtime sunshine and hot tea. It warmed places that I hadn’t realized were cold. I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled up to his back, trying not to enjoy the solidness of his body against my chest. He’s just a means to an end. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the means.
The rumble of his bike’s engine between my legs warmed me in naughty ways as he pulled away from the curb. The sirens and firetrucks rounded the corner behind us as we roared away and I ducked my head out of the wind. I was safe for the moment, even if that was just an illusion.