Her Black Heart (The Dark Amulet Series Book 2) (12 page)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

Abaddon

Abaddon stomped around one of his chamber rooms. Suzie lay on her stomach all sprawled out on the bed. Her bat-like wings, the color of flesh, were flopped open on both sides of her body. Veins created a network of red and blue lines, seen through the stretched skin. He studied her wings. On a pass around the bed, something caught his eye. A cluster of raised bumps equally spaced. Like goose bumps or feather follicles.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“What’s the matter now?” Suzie asked.

“What do you mean ‘now’?” Aba looked like a human man inside his home realm of Netherworld, except for his horns growing out of his head above the hairline. Light from the deep red chandelier hung from the ceiling glinted off his brilliant sapphire eyes.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Do not bullshit me,” the Demon Ruler grumbled.

“Fine.” She sighed. “It’s just that you’ve been increasingly paranoid. Ever since the Amalya incident.”

Suzie had been in Netherworld for the equivalent of forty-five Earth years. Although to her the time seemed about two weeks, for Aba, it was an eternity. The longer you stayed the longer it felt. He groaned and looked up at the cavern ceiling. A new stalactite had formed. Aba sneered at the dripstone. Everything about the place annoyed him, even the terra cotta colored rock. His left eye twitched.

“Is something wrong? I just called you paranoid and you didn’t even flinch.” He sat on the end of the bed and sagged his shoulders. “Did you hear me? I said Amalya?”

He swiveled around so he could see her. “Yes. I. Heard. You,” he said through gritted teeth.

Without warning, the ram-horned turd he’d sent on an errand shot through the door. “Master! Master!” Cloven hooves clacked across the marble floor.

Aba thought about slamming the little goat-legged fuck into the ground, but decided he wanted to hear his news from Julia, his sweet, instead. “What?!” He shook his open palms at the stupid beast.

“I’ve made contact like you told me.”

The Demon Ruler groaned and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He remained seated on the bed. Ram Head blinked at him. “And
what
did Julia say, you moron?”

“She said you were having sex, My Darkness.”

A giggle-snort came out of Suzie’s mouth. “She got that right.”

He had to remember to stop wiping so much of the fallen angels’ minds that came his way. Each one was getting dumber and dumber. “Not that, Jeremiah. What did she say she wanted?” This made him wonder what the goat told Julia. How in the world did she know that having sex was the reason he couldn’t meet her in person?

“Oh, my mistake. She said, ‘Tell him if he wants the amulet back, he’ll help me’.”

Aba looked up. “Does she have the amulet? Never mind, look who I’m asking.”

“I didn’t ask. Should I—”

“Did she say anything else?”

The goat shook his head and looked at the floor. Aba thought about pressing for more information, but didn’t feel like wasting the effort. Besides, it was likely the conversation would end in Jeremiah’s head rolling. His slaves could be infuriating. “Leave!” He waved dismissively.

Suzie cleared her throat and sat up. “I didn’t know you knew their names. Or that they even had any, for that matter.”

“Everyone has a name.”

“Yeah, but, how do you know them?”

“Why are we having this conversation?”

“Who’s Julia? No, wait,” she held her hand up, “you’re still trying to complete your harem. The number one hundred spot has been a bitch to fill.”

“Thanks. Didn’t need the reminder. Roll over.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

Julia

In the morning, someone knocked on the hotel room door. Julia yawned and squinted at the sun’s rays that shone in through a gap in the drapes. The second, sharper rap got her out of bed. Ra’zael grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. Great. They were going to get kicked out. She’d only paid for the one night and that was the day before yesterday. If she paid them for another night they’d be out of money.

She’d tried to get help, but God only knew if that little imp relayed the message and if it had been well received. Julia was betting on a big fat no. After a quick run of her fingers through her hair, she answered the door ready to tell the manager or whoever, that she’d be right down to pay for the extra night. Bullshit, of course.

A man in a hotel uniform handed her a sealed envelope, then wheeled in a cart full of orange juice, toast, muffins, and two covered plates. The dry smell of charcoal emanating from the letter addressed to her tickled her nose.

“Where would you like me to set—”

“There’s fine, by the bed. Thanks.” She tried her best not to look surprised but her mouth hung open. Julia tipped the man two dollars and closed the door behind him. Obviously, Abaddon had gotten her message.

Julia took the lid off one of the plates and broke into a grin. “Ooooh, waffles.” She plopped down on the end of the bed and picked up a napkin from underneath a knife and fork. The flatware jangled.

Ra’zael rose into a seated position. “That smells good,” he said, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Yeah, I thought I’d treat us.” She slipped the envelope under a butt cheek.

“Any blueberry pancakes?”

“That’s awfully specific. I just told them to bring whatever. You hungry or not?”

Ra’zael shuffled off the bed and grabbed the chair from the desk. He lifted the lid from the plate on the opposite end of the table. “Blueberry pancakes. Hm,” he muttered.

Julia craned her neck to have a look. “Huh, what’d ’ya know. Can you pass the syrup?” She could reach the tiny stainless steel pitcher, but she needed a distraction. Ra’zael had a suspicious look on his face. “And the butter.” He handed both to her.

“Hey, uh, I was thinking, we’ll probably want to go low profile,” he said between bites. “Let’s not steal a car or something crazy like that to get to Chicago, all right?”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

“How do you feel about trains? Amtrak.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” They probably didn’t have a lot of time to locate her amulet before Maurice caught on, but what the hell, it beat the bus with a stinky bathroom. As they ate their breakfast, the letter under her ass burned a hole in the seat of her pants. She was done eating before him and edged off the bed, using her hand to flatten the letter to her thigh. She shoved the envelope under the room service menu on the desk, then called the concierge for the number for Amtrak.

A chipper sounding woman answered on the first ring. “Reservations, where will you be traveling to?”

“Chicago?”

“I can help you with that. How many will be traveling?”

“Two adults. Please.”

Julia heard clacking on a keyboard through the phone. “There are two trains departing today. One at two P.M. and another at eight-thirty P.M.”

She covered the mouth piece with her hand. “There’s one at two or eight-thirty.”

“Better make it the eight, I have an errand to run first,” Ra’zael said.

Julia look surprised, but told the lady eight-thirty.
Where could he have to go?

“Seventy-four dollars and how will you be paying?”

She continued staring at the angel. “Cash. Can I pay with cash?”

“Yes, of course, the reservation is confirmed, just go to the ticketing counter.”

“Thanks,” Julia said and hung up as the lady rattled on.

When Ra’zael finished his food, he wiped his mouth, neatly folded the napkin, and placed it on the table. He put his clothes back on and headed for the door.

Julia trotted after him, forgetting to compensate for the extra weight of her wings. He caught her before she fell. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll meet you at the train station.” He winked and left.

Julia glared at the closed door. She pouted for about fifteen seconds until she remembered the letter. The paper looked handmade, with colored threads woven throughout. She slid her finger under the seal and tore open the envelope. The note inside was written on cardstock paper. Julia read the words out loud, so as to not miss anything.

“I remember our kiss like it was yesterday.”

Oh, good Lord.
She rolled her eyes.

“I savor the taste of your lips.”

What?
Now, she laughed.

“My associate informed me of your perilous situation and I’m deeply touched you reached out to me in your time of need. Please accept my offering, and in return I expect you will make good on your promise to present me with the amulet.”

Yeah right, buddy.
She flipped the card over. Nothing was written on the back, not even a salutation.

Julia tossed the card and envelope on the bed, pivoted on her heel, and went inside the bathroom to take a shower. “Some offering…a waffle and a couple of pancakes…pfft,” she said, stepping over the lip of the tub. God, she was pissed. After bathing she wrapped a towel around her and returned to the bedroom.

Her hands flew to her mouth. “What the…oh my God.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

Ra’zael

Ra’zael teleported back to the apartment building where he’d seen the angel in the hallway. There was no way Virgil hadn’t recognized him the other night. He also remembered the tenement. Elliott the Redeemer had once lived at the address. He most likely still resided there after he helped get him out of Netherworld. The angel owed him now; that’s how Raz saw it. Elliott never showed him Earth like he’d promised.

He knocked on the door Virgil had leaned against without hesitation. The sound resonated in the quiet hallway. Footsteps and a brushing sound filtered through the gap at the bottom of the door. “Who is it?” a female asked. The voice was all too familiar. Amalya.

“Ra’zael.”

“Who?”

He cleared his throat. “The Guardian. Angel.”

“Never heard of him.” He concentrated his acute hearing that all angels possessed on the sounds inside the apartment. She moved away from the door.

Ra’zael banged on the door. She was home alone, because Elliott or Virgil would have recognized the name and station. “Amalya,” he whispered knowing she could still hear him. The footfalls stopped.

“Who are you?”

Oh, Deus.
He really didn’t want to tell her. The exhale he extruded left him leaning his forehead on the door. Technically, he was no longer an angel. “You probably won’t recognize me…how I look now.”

“How’d you used to look?”

“The last time you saw me I had cloven hooves and red—”

“Aza’zel?” The door opened with the brass chain in place. They both knew the links of metal wouldn’t keep him out. She pushed her face into view. “You’re right, I don’t recognize you much. Your eyes, though. Hair…”

“Can I come in? Elliott the Redeemer has something of mine.”

“He’ll be back any minute.” Amalya shut the door. The chain scraped against the metal slot. She backed away from the door, leaving it open a few inches.

Raz stepped inside the apartment. Her black wings sparkled. Tiny flecks that looked like glitter shimmered at the bottom ends of the feathers at the floor. He wondered if she noticed. Holy. Shit. She was…

The dark angel headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t touch anything. Do you want something to drink?” she threw over her shoulder.

“No, thank you.” Not until they reached the other room, had he realized he’d followed her. She turned around, her hair fell off her shoulders in loose ebony waves. He was awed by Amalya’s wings and imagined Julia’s with her feathers filled in. Before Raz could stop himself, he reached out and skimmed his hand down the side of one wing. He blushed and snapped his hand back.

“S-Sorry. I don’t know why I—sorry.” Amalya was certainly attractive, but angels didn’t covet the mates of their brethren. Once a female had been through the mating ritual, they emitted a scent that alerted all other males to stay away. They could touch but it wasn’t advisable unless you wanted a beat down. Raz turned red for another reason. Shame. However, she didn’t seem to be aware of the Arcadian taboo.

Thank, Deus.

He only hoped Amalya wouldn’t tell Elliott of his mistake if she ever found out what infraction he’d committed.

“What are you staring at?”

His mouth was open, so he closed it and swallowed hard. “Was I staring? Oh, sorry.”

The female giggle-snorted. “Go sit on the couch, will ya? Jeez…”

He paced the living room while the female rummaged through the kitchen. She returned and sat down on the recliner with her feet up and a glass of ice water in her hand. His mouth felt dry. He smacked his lips.

“If you’re thirsty, go get some something to drink. Here,” she said getting up, “have mi—”

“No,” he shook his hands out in front of him. “I-I can’t.”

“Really it’s fine. Take it.” She shoved the water at him. “I know you’re thirsty.” He took a deep breath and walked backward. “What’s the matter?” she asked and placed the glass on the coffee table. “Well, here…in case you change your mind.”

After coming back with another full glass, she settled on the chair again. “Are you always this jittery?”

Yes.
“No.”

Raz could tell she wasn’t convinced by the way she looked at him with squinty eyes.

Elliott appeared in the room, and Raz had never been so grateful to see the guy, even if he had dishonored him. Another minute alone with Amalya and his head might detonate. The other male’s hair was pulled back, French braided on top, and the white locks flowed down his back and over his pure white wings. They were so bright Raz looked away until his eyes adjusted. Elliott spun around and faced Raz in full attack mode, dagger outed, ready to charge.

“Wait! Elliott!” Raz put his hands up in surrender. “I only came for what is mine.”

Elliott squinted at him. “Raz…holy shit. I didn’t expect anyone to be here besides my female. Sorry.”

“Yeah. It’s all right.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? In Netherworld. The whole time. You helped me,” Elliott said.

“Yes.”

“Glad your skin’s not red anymore.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. And I have feet again. Thank Deus.”

“I suppose you came for your wings?”

Amalya made a noise. Both males turned and looked at her. “You’re keeping his wings? Where?”

“In the bedroom closet,” Elliott said then addressed Raz. “Think you’ll recognize them? The box is getting pretty full. Dahlia.”

Amalya tsked. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Elliott wide-eyed.

Uh oh.

Raz knew the history between the white-haired angel and Dahlia the Warrior. It wasn’t pretty, but things had calmed over the centuries. Fortunately, they had never formally mated, which had technically been the reason for their breakup. Amalya obviously was familiar with some of the story.

“I think I can figure out which ones are mine,” Raz said.

“Cool, follow me,” Elliott headed down the hallway. He and Amalya tailed the angel. Once inside the bedroom, the Redeemer pulled a shoe box marked Nike off the shelf in the closet. He flipped open the lid.

Raz peered into the orange-red box. Dozens of pairs of demon horns were mixed together. “You weren’t kidding, there’s a lot in there.”

“Here. I’ll go call Max.” Elliott handed the horns to him and left the room.
Alone with Amalya again, shit…

“It might help to dump them all out and separate the pairs,” she suggested.

She took a step toward him in the small room. He stiffened, his pupils flaring. “Please…don’t…  you—”

“Max is on his way,” Elliott interrupted.

Thank, Deus.

Raz backed himself into the corner. Amalya gave him a confused look.

Elliott chuckled. “You don’t have to stand in the corner you know.”

“I know, it’s—”

“I know. Bring the box over and dump them on the bed.”

Raz did what he was told, staying on the other side of Elliott, away from the female. She picked through the pile and he let her. “What kind are we looking for?”

“Spiral shaped,” Elliott said.

She held up a twin pair. “Are these it?”

Raz’s face brightened. “Yes. Thank you.” Elliott tossed the other horns into the box. He didn’t reach for them. “You can put them down on the bed, please.”

“I’m not poisonous,” she said.

Raz sighed. “I don’t think that.” He glared at Elliott, who laughed under his breath. Clearly, the angel was enjoying his discomfort.

Max the Healer arrived. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having a party?” He smiled at Raz. “Good to see you, ol’ friend.” The blue-haired Healer angel eyed the horns in his hands. “Are those the wings?”

“Um…I don’t know what you all are looking at, but I see horns, not wings,” Amalya said. Max put his hands behind his back as she approached him, even though Healers could touch mated females. Raz’s chest tightened at how respectful the male was toward her. Elliott put himself between Max and his mate, even though it hadn’t been necessary.

“Amalya, could you please sit on the bed?” Elliott said.

She said, “Fine,” on an exhale.

“Take your shirt off and turn around,” Max told Raz. Even with his back toward the Healer, he could see the glow of the male’s light. “You may want to kneel; this shit’s gonna hurt.”

He sunk to his knees, folded his torso over his thighs, and braced for the pain. He cried out as a horn stabbed his back where one of his wings had once been. Max shoved the bone and keratin sheath deep. The second one pierced his skin before Raz had a chance to recover from the initial wave of agony. His stomach lurched and the first vomit wave spewed out of his mouth. He tried to swallow the chunks but his lips were no match for the all-powerful and mighty diaphragm. His eyes blurred with tears. He coughed. He choked. A towel got placed below his face. His throat ached and the back of his nasal passages burned.

Deep within his back, roots sprouted out of each horn and anchored themselves below the scapulae, creating the seeds for his wings to regrow. Bumpy shafts pushed up through his body and out his upper back. Warm fluid oozed out of the wounds.

“Oh, Deus! Fuuuck!” he screamed for what seemed like forever. The protrusions unfurled. The torture ended and his wings snapped open with a
whoosh.
He flapped them a little then folded them against his backside. He kept his eyes closed and his body in the same crouched position, afraid to see the color of the feathers. “Give me the news,” he managed to eke out.

“Well, they’re not white,” Max said.

“And they’re not black,” Amalya offered.

“Then what color are they?”

“Hmm…I’d say pigeon gray,” Elliott told him.

“Gray,” Raz echoed. He could deal with that.

“Shit-bird gray,” Max quipped and laughed.

“You guys are mean. Don’t listen to them. They’re a nice medium gray,” the reasonable female in the room said.

Raz lurched to the bathroom to have a look for himself, compensating for the added weight. Not so bad. He turned his body as far around as he could and still see in the mirror over the sink.