How to Seduce an Angel in 10 Days (16 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Love Gun Misfire

S
hot with his own damn bullet. How humiliating.

Then again, he supposed that didn’t matter if the world was going to end.

The easy thing to do would be to sit in The Banshee’s Bawl and drink until it was over. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

It surprised him to realize what he did want.

Just Tally.

For five minutes or five million years—whatever she or Fate would give him.

He loved her.

He loved the way her hair curled around his finger, the way her nose crinkled when he said something she didn’t like, her smile, and most of all, he loved her heart. It was big enough to love him even after everything she’d been through, and knowing he wouldn’t love her back. Not in the way she needed.

She was so strong, so brave. And she deserved so much better than anything he could ever give her.

Tally had told him to love himself, but he’d done enough of that. Seducing her in the pergola, insisting on being her parole officer when Merlin was happy to reassign him, working everything to his angle to get what he wanted. No, he couldn’t love himself because his actions had hurt her. Just as he’d known they would.

There wasn’t enough bourbon in the world to wash away his sins.

Some fucking Angel of Love he’d turned out to be.

Why couldn’t she have just let him die, not believing in love? That would have fixed everything.

Suddenly, Ethelred’s words slammed into him.
I get Tally, too
. She’d chosen Hell. Falcon had failed her in so many ways. Had she traded her soul for that bullet? No, she wouldn’t be so shortsighted. She wouldn’t have traded herself for anything less than the world. She’d almost destroyed it, so she’d believe she was the one who should save it.

Which would explain why Tristan had said Falcon wasn’t on the docket to be reaped.

He wouldn’t let her be damned.

Falcon didn’t quite have a plan, but that didn’t matter. His sister had told him love saved Tally the first time and he knew it would again. Even Merlin had told him that true love was the most powerful magick of all.

And he loved Tally. He’d die for her, but he realized that, most important, he’d live for her, too.

He put the glass of bourbon down, dropped some money on the table, and left.

The more love there was in the world, the more powerful he’d become. He knew in his gut he’d need all the power he could get to fix what he’d fucked up, but what filled him with a joy such as he’d never known was that he
could
fix it. He had faith in himself. In Love, with the capital “L.” Maybe he could even love himself just a little bit.

He realized now that being selfish wasn’t loving himself. It was like shoving a piece of candy in a crying kid’s mouth. It didn’t address what he really needed; it was only a stopgap. The things he really needed couldn’t be accomplished through any kind of instant gratification. They were dreams, goals, a lifetime of accomplishments built on the kind of foundation he had with Tally.

He got out his love gun and took to the skies, searching for people to shoot. Falcon knew he could only water the seeds and fertilize what was already there. Love out of nothing at all was meant for dark magick and Air Supply songs.

After the first bullet, Falcon began enjoying his job. He could see the paths of people’s lives just as he had that day on the cloud with Tally. He pruned what was unnecessary, dead or broken, and was surprised to see new buds growing everywhere. Within minutes, he didn’t even have to shoot the gun anymore—he could bring blooms with a thought.

He was riding high, until he saw a man he hadn’t laid eyes on since he was ten.

Orion Cherrywood. His father.

The bastard was sitting on a park bench with a mortal woman half his age—and his heart was black and dead—except for one, tiny green shoot that struggled through the stony soil of his soul. Falcon could see that shoot could become as strong, tall, and powerful as a redwood.

The new feelings in Falcon’s own heart began to wilt, to shy away from the pain that awaited him there. He should have known that Fate would have another obstacle for him to overcome—this thing that had been at the core of all of his hurts. Falcon had yet to slay any dragons, and by Merlin, he was going to get that damned shining armor to fit if it killed him. Tally deserved nothing less.

He dropped down to the mortal world and hid his wings, his gun, and his red leather pants and manifested some street clothes. He wandered down the path that would lead him to that bench and suddenly realized he had no idea of what he was going to say.

Or if he should say anything at all. Falcon could always shoot his father and Orion would never know he’d been there.

“Falcon!” Orion’s voice was a half whisper, his dark eyes wide.

No choice now. He supposed he could still shoot him and disappear; it would serve the bastard right. He’d think Falcon had come to kill him, and the pain of love blooming in his chest after all this time would certainly feel like a real bullet.

“Are you sure?” Falcon couldn’t resist asking. After all, it had been years.

“I know my own sons.” Orion suddenly looked old. Not in any measurable way, like lines around his eyes and mouth, or sagging skin. He was a warlock. But it was in the shadows in the depths of his eyes.

“How’s your mother?” Orion asked.

Again, all of the old venom roiled up inside him. He wanted to say that if Orion gave a shit, he could have asked her himself. He could have at least let his family know where he was. But instead, Falcon said, “She’s been taking a cooking class with Roderick Snow.”

“How’s Barista feel about that?” Orion smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. It was sad.

“That’s a long story I don’t think we have time for.” Barista was dead. She’d been Martin Vargill’s partner in crime and had tried to kill, well, everyone. “Who’s your friend?”

Orion looked embarrassed for a moment. “This is my therapist, Carolyn. Carolyn, this is my son, Falcon.”

The woman beamed at him. “Then this is my cue. It was nice to meet you, Falcon. I hope you listen to what your father has to say.”

Therapist? What the hell?

The woman got up and placed a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder and walked down toward the small fountain in the center of the park.

For a moment, Orion didn’t seem to want to look at him and Falcon remembered he had his own atoning to do, so he swallowed hard and said, “She seemed to think you had something to say.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

How would he know where to start with Tally? “How about with Love?”

Orion seemed to take that as an invitation and popped to his feet to yank Falcon against him in a tight hug. “Thank Merlin, boy! I never thought I’d see you again or you’d want to see me. I’m so sorry. I never stopped loving you boys, Midnight . . . or your mother.”

Falcon stood frozen by the sudden onslaught of conflicting emotions and sensations. His arms slowly melted around his father, but this time he couldn’t stop the question he had to know the answer to.

“Why did you leave? Why weren’t we enough?”

“It’s me who wasn’t enough.”

All of Falcon’s previous insecurities slammed back through him. He knew he shared his father’s faults. He was still his father’s son.

“That doesn’t mean it was okay to leave us.”

“I had to, Falcon.” He broke away from him and looked into his eyes. “I was addicted to dark magick and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get clean. When some of the people I owed money to started coming around the house, your mother told me to choose between my family and the magick. I chose the magick.” He was silent for a long moment and Falcon didn’t know what to say. “I’ve regretted it every day of my life.”

“Are you clean now?”

“Five years. I’m almost completely magick free. I use a glamour to make living in the mortal world easier, but that’s it.”

“Let me see.”

“I—”

“Let me see the rest of the price you paid for the dark magick. No one else will see you.” Falcon used his magick to insulate them from the rest of the world.

Orion dropped his glamour and Falcon had to fight not to flinch. His father’s formerly handsome face was a wreck. The left side had been burned and scarred almost beyond recognition. His left eye was nothing but a burned-out socket. There was a crisscross network of thin white scars on the right side of his face that traveled down his neck. His left arm had been burned as well, as if a fountain of fire had flowed down the flesh. The hand was mangled, too, missing the pinky and ring finger. Common things sacrificed in the pursuit of dark magick. The loss of his ring finger must be recent, because the scar was still a bright pink.

“I thought you were clean.”

Orion snapped the glamour back into place. “I am. Before Midnight was born, I traded a piece of her magick to a dark warlock for a crystal skull. I’ve since returned it.” He sighed. “I wish I could renounce all my magick. I’ve thought about it, but I can’t live in either world looking as I do. Though, it’s nothing less than what I deserve.”

“Midnight got married,” Falcon blurted.

“I know. She’s been to see me.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Probably because it was just yesterday. She said I should come home, Falcon.”

“That would be like asking a dope fiend to live in Colombia.”

“I know better.”

Falcon couldn’t get the sight of what his father’s addiction had done to him out of his brain. “But maybe you should see Mom.”

“I don’t think she wants to see me.”

“She loves you. Always has. Always will.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m Cupid.” Falcon shrugged, and then sighed. He knew what he had to do. “I’m going to give you the same gift my woman gave to me.”

“It’s not the clap, is it?” Orion raised a brow.

Falcon laughed. “No, but it’s more uncomfortable. At first. Love yourself, Orion.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Suddenly, Falcon wanted to puke and he had the sense that Tally needed him. Terror knifed through him. “I have to go.”

“Can I see you again?”

“If the world doesn’t end.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Not by the Hair of My Chinny-Chin-Chin

“L
ittle witch, little witch, let me in.” A deep growl sounded from behind the door. The voice had once been Emilian’s, but now it sounded like a layered track, as if there were three voices speaking the same words, but a millisecond off from each other.

Tally wouldn’t lie to herself and pretend she wasn’t afraid. She was terrified and it seeped from her every pore. She was sure the wolf could smell the fear on her like a sweet perfume.

There was a cold, distant part of her mind now and it told her this was what she wanted. If the beast thought she was afraid, he’d feel powerful and in control. She was afraid of that, too, the voice in her head, so alien, but achingly familiar. It was hungry and reptilian, but it burned.

Tally wanted to hide under the bed and cover her eyes the way she’d done when she was a child and she’d feared the monster in the closet. The urge to flee brought another memory of Falcon. She and Middy had been hiding under Middy’s bed, having scared themselves stupid with a marathon of horror movies, and then they’d read Stephen King stories aloud to each other. “The Boogeyman” had scared the bemerlin out of both of them and Middy’s closet gnome had creaked the closet door open, sending the girls into a shrieking frenzy. He’d later tried to sue for damages, citing their screaming for his hearing loss. Of course, if he’d been doing his job instead of eavesdropping on two little witches . . . Falcon had come to their rescue and ousted the gnome and made him admit what he’d done.

He also explained to them he was much scarier than any boogeyman. He’d promised the dark was more afraid of him than Middy or Tally were of it. They’d believed each and every word.

Now it was Tally’s turn to make the dark things quake in fear of her.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, rather than waiting for him to kick it in. “It took you long enough,” Tally spat.

Tally was surprised to see the beast still wore Emilian’s skin. It was caught in mid-transformation. It had the form of Emilian’s body, but was covered in a fine pelt; its face had an elongated snout, fissures in the flesh, and slavering jaws full of snapping teeth. Its hands were claws, but the rest of its body pulsed with power, hovering at the edge of transition.

Tally turned her back on the predator to allow him to enter behind her. She sat down in one of the chairs in the living room and motioned for him to do the same.

She reclined in the chair as if she hadn’t a care in the world and the fear ebbed like low tide. Tally found she was hungry and the burn wasn’t only in her stomach, but throbbed down through her mound. The lamia found this beast attractive, and wanted to devour him whole.

Perhaps she’d let her. The idea of surrendering control to the thing inside her gave her a languorous rush. It would be so easy and it would feel so good.

The beast sniffed the air around her warily and his eyes narrowed. “Clever girl, using the fear to draw me in. You fairly reek of it, but there’s something else, too.”

Tally crossed her legs, giving him a view of her upper thigh. “What would that be?”

His eyes were instantly drawn to her skin and he licked his lips. He could be controlled by his cock, the lamia whispered to her. Tally knew very well what kind of weapon she had at her disposal by using her body, but she didn’t want to use sex as a weapon. The only hands she wanted on her flesh were Falcon’s. The only man she wanted inside her never would be again.

“Such ample charms you have. All the better to eat me with, I’d think,” the animal growled.

“You’ve taken this wolf thing to heart. You keep quoting an overused fairy tale.” Tally cocked her head to the side as she studied him. “Is that supposed to be scary?”

“No more so than you flashing your body when I know what you carry can consume me.”

She raised her leg on the side of the chair, exposing herself farther. “Maybe I’ve just got a thing for dark and brutal.”

Tally couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth; they weren’t hers. This wasn’t what she wanted, but it was what the lamia wanted. It whispered to her in soft, dulcet tones. It told her to trust, to believe. That this was the path to redemption and victory.

“You can’t control me with sex. None of my previous lovers could,” the beast growled.

“This isn’t what you came for? To see if
you
could control
me
with sex? To make me so grateful any man would want me that I’d do anything for you?” Tally replied in a sultry tone. “Perhaps you’re afraid,” she said as she got up from the chair and advanced on him, splaying her hand on his chest. “Tell me true, are you afraid?”

His claws grew into talons and the lamia was aroused by the pain of them piercing her flesh. She laughed, daring him to do more. The last of Emilian melted away, and it was the beast who would devour the world that stood before her now.

“I am afraid of nothing, whore.”

Whore
. The insult ripped into the human part of her, tore at her defenses. Once, she would have felt hot, salty tears threaten, but the creature inside her forbade them. It whispered she could cry later when they were alone, when this bastard was nothing. She felt like a whore; that’s why it hurt. She had no doubt this body would do what it must to this beast. She would destroy him and then feast on his bones. The Tally part of her didn’t want to do it. She wanted her flesh to be sacred, for Falcon. For all the good it would do him if he were dead, the lamia sneered at her thoughts.

“So many before me were unworthy, weren’t they? Not me. I am a punisher of men, a destroyer of the unworthy.”

I’ll do it. It won’t be you. You can tell your mate it wasn’t you. Let go. Let me out,
the lamia entreated.

She could float in the silent peace of oblivion while the lamia used her body and saved the world. Tally herself could still be sacred, could still be pure for Falcon.

But that wasn’t the nature of sacrifice or redemption.

Tally felt a clarity she’d never known and a strength that was solely hers. She smiled up into the face of evil. “Be with me. We’ll end this world together.”

Its talons closed around her throat.

“I can’t die,” Tally said and smiled as her airway closed.

The human part of her was so far away now. It struggled, and it felt fear as her lungs fought for oxygen, but the lamia was calm; it forced her to be calm and to endure. The beast braced her against the table and just as he was going to enter her, he snapped a titanium cuff around her wrist.

“Call it protection from sexually transmitted death.”

The air around the cuff sizzled with power and the lamia inside her howled. It had been chained by magick, caged.

The door hadn’t been locked, so it wasn’t much of an entrance, but an avenging angel filled the doorway, his armored wings spread and their true glory illuminated by the sun reflected off each crystalline plate.

His guns were still strapped to his hips and thighs, but he held a sword and it burst into flame. Falcon’s body moved with deadly grace as he brandished the sword, his muscle and bone following a single sharp line. He was beautiful in the magnificence of his fury.

She wondered how much he’d heard and if he’d ever forgive her. The pain on his face, the hard lines around the grim slash of his mouth, the stony vengeance in his eyes—no, he’d never forgive her.

The lamia whispered that his emotion would make him careless, sloppy. He’d fight and he’d lose. Better to cut him with her words than to let them fight. The pain was in her veins now instead of her blood. Her intent to wound him cut her before she even spoke.

“A little late to the party, lover?” She licked her lips.

“A hot little piece of destruction you’ve got here,” the beast said.

Tally saw pieces of Falcon shatter. She wanted to cry out, to tell him she loved him, no matter what this looked like. Her heart swelled and cracked; despair threatened to drown her.

“Tally, what are you doing?” he asked.

As if she could give him another answer, as if she could explain away the words of invitation she’d issued to the beast.

“I’m
hungry
.” She prayed he’d understand everything with those words, prayed he’d walk away. Tally needed him to hate her just then. But later, she hoped he’d realize what she’d done and forgive her.

“I thought we agreed the dog wasn’t allowed in the house.” Under any other circumstances, his wit would have been funny. Now, it broke her heart.

“Instead, Cupid has to stay outside and play with his love guns all by himself.” The beast bared its teeth and threw a bag of powder at the door. It exploded and the blast sent Falcon flying from the entrance.

The places on his skin where the powder touched him sizzled and burned. His blood turned to ash when it dripped near the ward Ethelred had wrought. Falcon would burn should he try to cross the threshold.

“The dust of a woman’s bones who was killed by someone she loved. It’s easier to find than you’d think.” The beast wore Emilian’s face again and winked at Tally.

Tally had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. “I’m already bored,” she said and turned her head away so she wouldn’t have to see Falcon’s suffering.

Falcon seethed, his chest rising and falling with simple rage. He pulled his wings around his body and tried to push through the barrier. His beautiful wings caught fire as soon as they touched the boundary of the warding.

“Come to me, Tally,” he said, as the tips of his wings burned.

Oh, sweet Merlin, he was still trying to save her. He would die to do it, just as Merlin had said he would. She had to get Emilian out of there.

“So, what’s the deal, Princeling?” She adopted Ethelred’s pet name for him with a sneer.

Falcon stepped back from the door as she spoke, a low sound like a growl issuing from deep in his chest. Tally could see he was debating how long it would take to push through the barrier and how much of his flesh would burn.

“Your love is going to burn,” the beast said with a curious excitement.

“I don’t care what he does,” she said and leaned back on the table.

Please,
she prayed.
Please let me save him
.

“You really don’t care, do you? Perhaps we’ll play some more.” The beast grabbed her by the throat again.

She submitted to his grasp and looked at Falcon one last time. Tally prayed he could see the truth in her eyes, could see she didn’t mean any of what she said. It was a double-edged sword. She wanted Falcon to know it was a lie, but she had to be pretty damn convincing if she wanted Emilian to believe her. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

“First,” Emilian began, “I have to see a demon about a contract.”

Betrayal knifed through her.

Emilian started to chant and she felt the corporeal world around her fade into nothing. She could still see Falcon, but Tally was sure he could no longer see them and she mouthed
I love you.
She was sure it was her last chance to say it and though he’d never know she’d spoken the words, she’d know. It would have to be enough.

They materialized in a familiar tea shop, where an equally familiar demon sat eating a scone and drinking a steaming cup of tea. Tally gritted her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn’t all snap off in her mouth. She tasted blood and knew the lamia had caused fangs to descend from her gums. She’d known Ethelred was evil, but how could he do this?

“I see you’ve captured my errant parolee,” Ethelred said with no evident emotion.

“The bone dust you gave me worked,” Emilian said, his features completely humanoid again, all but his eyes.

“Everything I give you works. This time you thought to specify
how
you wanted it to work.” Ethelred still didn’t look at Tally. She wanted him to; she wanted him to see the darkness in her eyes and the reckoning she’d bring to his door.

She blinked as her vision blurred and she began to see all of the occupants in the room in terms of their heat signatures, where the meat was. Tally was watching them like prey. They weren’t men, or angels, or demons: They were prey to be devoured. They were enemies to be destroyed.

“Would you look at that?” Emilian grinned. “Something pissed her off.”

“She’s hungry,” Ethelred said. “You should find something to feed her. Lamia are easier to control when they’re full.”

“I thought you used food to reward them.”

“Yes, you do. But a nearly sated lamia has logic. If she’s too hungry, you’ll have to use aversion training with pain.”

“We like pain, don’t we, dove?” Emilian asked her solicitously. “Such pretty eyes. What magick can be wrought with lamia eyes?”

“Much, but she’s more valuable to you alive.”

Tally would have exploded with her rage; the lamia would have filled her skin and killed them all if not for that titanium cuff on her wrist. As soon as he took it off and
he would take it off
if he wanted to use the lamia’s power, she’d kill him.

“Do you still want demonhood, Emilian?” Ethelred asked.

“No, I’m happy with what I am.”

“Then why are you here?” The demon asked the question as if the answer didn’t matter, flipping casually though a gardening magazine.

“To make sure the Powers That Be don’t vote to end me. Something they can’t do if they’re all dead.” He clasped Tally tightly and pressed her against him. “I’ll enjoy watching her kill them. I’ve never seen a lamia in action.”

“There aren’t many who have. For so large a creature, she’s very stealthy. The Angel of Death never saw her coming, did he, Tally?” Ethelred replied.

“No, he didn’t.” She left the rest unsaid.
He
wouldn’t see her coming, either. The lamia rallied at the thought and Tally ran her tongue over her fangs.