Her Black Heart (The Dark Amulet Series Book 2) (20 page)

CHAPTER

FIFTY-TWO

Amalya

Amalya peeked her head around the hallway entrance into the living room. Virgil, Elliott, her personal information omitting/withholding mate, and his son were passed out on the couch, lounge chair, and the floor respectively. Idiots. All of them.

From the kitchen, she carefully grabbed a frying pan and wooden spoon. Amalya crept back to the sleeping morons and banged on the pan as loudly as possible. “Wake up!”

Elliott bolted from the chair and tripped on the carpet. He landed at her feet. The other two were equally as alarmed but then they saw Elliott sprawled out and laughed. Jeremiah’s sounded more like a bleat. It was kind of cute. Her step-kid.

Amalya had calmed down after the initial shock of finding out her mate had a child he’d kept secret. Arcadian customs had kept Elliott from raising his own son. Even from knowing him. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it. Tradition or not, she couldn’t fathom her mate wasn’t affected in some way by his own flesh and blood being ripped from him at birth.

Elliott got to his knees. “Still angry?”

She sighed. “No. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to…and then, shit, um, I’ve always been unable to talk about it.”

“Answer me one question right now. Is Jeremiah’s mother your ex-girlfriend? The one I met the other night?”

“No,” he said emphatically.

Amalya bit her bottom lip. “Really?”

He put his palms up in front of him. “Truly. I swear.”

“What happened to her?”

“I honestly don’t know. Jeremiah was a Sanctioned conception.”

“What in Netherworld does that mean?”

“Certain ‘made’ angels are selected to conceive a child at some point.”

“Certain angels?”

“Yes, only ones that are considered perfect,” Virgil said.

Elliott dropped his head. “I’m not perfect by any means.”

Virgil shrugged. “Well, physically you are. Mentally…emotionally? Not so much.”

“Shut up,” Elliott said.

“Selected by whom?” Amalya asked.

“There’s a committee. I dunno,” Elliott said. “It’s just decided.”

“Okaaay, forget I asked.”

Wow
.
Time to buy a pregnancy test.

Amalya teleported from the apartment directly to the back alley of the corner drug store. She squinted from the harsh fluorescent overheads. She knew exactly which aisle she needed, Feminine Hygiene Products.

Really? Hygiene?

As if somehow women required an aisle dedicated solely to cleaning themselves. She passed up the tampons and pads.

Won’t be needing those.

In fact, she’d yet to have a period since her death and becoming a Redeemer angel, part of the reason she hadn’t even considered pregnancy as a possibility. Above the condoms, lined up on the top shelf were the tests. Early detection, digital, whatever. She grabbed a pink and white box and held the life changer tightly to her body. Her knuckles turned white. Breathing through her nose didn’t bring enough oxygen into her lungs. She gasped and blew air out in short bursts. The aisle got longer the more steps she took toward the checkout.

Amalya placed the test face down on the counter. “Will this be all?” the gray-haired woman behind the counter asked.

She nodded.

Yeah, I know, I’m too young.

“What was that?”

Had she said that aloud? “I didn’t say anything.”

“My mistake. I thought you said something.”

Amalya shook her head and handed the clerk a twenty. The change and the test were stuffed into a white plastic bag and handed to her. She left the register area without looking up. The door chimed. And in walked Hazel.

Ohfortheloveofgod.

Of all the times to run into her niece, this was a particularly bad one. She turned around and tried to run. Teleporting in front of surveillance cameras was a terrible idea.

Hazel called behind her. “Amalya, wait…where are you going?”

Anywhere but here.

She stopped mid-aisle, took a deep breath, and faced her niece. “Nowhere, I guess. We have to stop meeting like this. You’re following me, aren’t you?”

“Is that so wrong?”

She grasped Hazel’s wrist and dragged her out of the store. Her niece wrenched out of Amalya’s hold. “My mother thinks I’m crazy. The shrink she took me to agrees with her. She’s ready to have me committed.”

Amalya rubbed her forehead. “Mule.”

“Yeah, well, at least we agree on something.”

“What about your dad? What does he think of your crazy angel sightings?”

“I’m currently not speaking to him.”

Amalya wanted to ask why but forced herself to keep quiet. She looked at Hazel expressionlessly instead. Her sister’s daughter eyed the bag. “Whatcha got?”

Nosy much?

Okay, that wasn’t fair. In truth, Amalya needed to talk to someone other than an angel. “Is your roommate home?”

“No, she moved out to marry some jerk. Why?”

***

When they arrived at Hazel’s building, Amalya skipped the posh lobby and poofed directly to her loft. She paced the hardwood floor and waited for her niece to join her.

“There’s a good chance I’m pregnant,” Amalya blurted. She tossed the bag with the pregnancy test to Hazel.

Hazel’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God. That’s awesome.”

“Not awesome.” She sniffled.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“If the baby’s a boy, he’ll likely be taken from me.” Hazel stared at her. “Yeah, he’ll grow up without a mother, or a father for that matter. I’m told this is a great
honor
for the parents.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the only one. Apparently, male children born to angel parents are
sacred
or some crap. Like I care.”

Hazel stood with her hands on her hips, staring at a knot in the floorboards for several minutes. “Okay. Before we panic, take this test first.” She tore open the box and handed the packaged stick to her.

Amalya handled the pee stick like an egg during a spoon race—out in front and her hand acting as the spoon. She closed herself inside the bathroom and leaned on the counter. She readied to relieve her bladder and opened the wrapper after sitting down. When she finished, Amalya replaced the cap on the end of the test and emerged from the bathroom, leaving the child damning bitch on the sink counter.

“Well?”

“I didn’t look at it, the directions said to wait ten minutes for the results to appear.”

“You’re just too chicken to look at it.”

“What’s your point?”

Her niece ducked her head into the bathroom. She came around the corner with the test in hand.

***

Jeremiah

“I think she’s still upset with you,” Virgil said.

“Shut up,” Elliott and Jeremiah said.

“Well, she left without saying anything.”

“Keep it up and I’ll shove my fist down your throat. I’m the reason you’re still here. I know how you hate to be alone.” Virgil flinched when Elliott brushed past him on the way to the bedroom. Jere watched his father retreat down the hallway. Since the male hadn’t told him to leave, he decided the safest place was in this apartment. Not like he could go out in public anyway.

His back tingled where the wings had once been. The sensation had been overlooked in the past. There was always heat pricking your back or imaginary bugs crawling down your spine in Netherworld. Jere shivered. He examined his hands, maybe if he trimmed his nails and shaved the fur off his legs he could…

No, you idiot, you can’t blend
.

A single salty droplet streaked his red cheek.

“You’ve seen horrible things and had horrible things done to you,” Virgil said.

Jere sighed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You can ask Deus to change you back, but more than likely for a price.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “I’ll do
anything
.”

“Some advice. Don’t tell anyone that. Do you know where Eternity is?” Jere shook his head. “Well, I suppose I could fly us there and sneak you inside.”

The ceiling thinned until it disappeared. Jere crouched down and looked up over his shoulder. Virgil expanded his wings. He waved Jere over and told him to hang on tightly. His eyes misted as he remembered how much he loved flying. The Redeemer held him to his chest, his warmth melding into him. There was acceptance in the embrace; his heart soared even before they took flight.

They shot straight toward the clouds. The white vapor would shield them from the humans below. At a distance, the two would be mistaken for a large bird. Wind chilled his skin and goose bumps formed. He clung to Virgil. His back faced the ground. The angel dwarfed him in size. Although both of them were lean, Virgil’s muscles were bulkier and the male was more solid in stature. Jere had dreamed of developing a stronger physique when he lived in Arcadia. His time in Netherworld helped, but as a goat demon he’d only been able to reach a certain size. And that wasn’t much bigger than before. He had the capability of developing into a male like his father, but as a Sacred this had been unnecessary.

The larger angel swooped down in large loops. During aerial movements, the weightless stomach fluid sensation always made Jere laugh. They set down on a flat rooftop. He followed the angel toward a door. There was only one way into the angel hangout, an elevator inside the dance club Eternity, with a special button disguised as an emergency stop. Only angels could see the button for what it was. Virgil manifested and gave him a hooded sweatshirt and a floor-length coat. Jere kept his head down, claws in his pockets.

Jere inhaled deeply before entering the lobby. A small podium sat near a stand of bamboo stalks at the entrance to a larger room. He shrugged out of the coat and pushed the hood off his head.

An angel who manned the station cowered at the sight of him. “Oh, Deus.”

“It’s all right, this is Jeremiah the Sacred,” Virgil said. The other frightened angel’s eyes went wide.

“A-are you sure?” The male shied away as they walked past. His eyes remained fixed on Jere. “Oh. Oh, my.”

A thousand shades of purple assaulted his eyes. Angels lounged about on couches and overstuffed pillows on the carpeted floor on both sides of a shiny brick walkway. Double doors stood at the end of the spacious room, the walls decorated with pictures of female warrior angels battling demons. Goat demons. He glanced down his body and touched the jagged protrusions sticking out of his head. His chest tightened.

Virgil led him down the center path. Jere’s clip-clopping caught everyone’s attention. The angel at the long table full of food turned and pieces of fruit fell from his mouth, landing on the lilac carpet. An angel with green hair looked up from something he studied on his lap—a gray metal book with an apple on the outside.

“What’s this now?” the odd colored hair angel asked.

“Jeremiah the Sacred,” Virgil said. The tone suggested he was proud to make the announcement again.

“Ah, Elliott’s progeny. Hmm, figures. He can’t go back there, you know.” Max the Healer motioned with his head toward the French doors.

“I know,” Jere said. He only met Max’s eyes when the male sighed heavily.

“All right. Guess you want to look like your old self. It’ll probably cost you, but I have a feeling you don’t give a shit about that. Be right back.” Max stood and flew low to the doors. They opened at his will. He coasted through the swirling white mist and disappeared. The oak panels closed with a thud.

“How long will he be go—”

The doors opened. “I’m baaack. Did you miss me?” Max had purple hair now. Jere had heard about the time portal to Arcadia. As long as you exited Earth’s realm through the door, you returned to almost the exact moment in time.

“How long have you been gone?” Jere asked.

“Does it matter?”

Jere shook his head.

“Anyway, you want the bad news or the
really
bad
news?”

Jere puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “Does it matter?”

Max chuckled. “Nope. Deus says you’re no longer a Sacred, seeing how you’re impure now. However, he’s inclined to make you normal, provided you agree to become a Soaper. That’s grunt work, in case you didn’t know. The bottom of the barrel. The lowest of the low. It’s not glamor—”

“Enough,” Virgil said.

“All right. Can’t a male have a little fun?”