Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin

Because thou fixest still thy mind entirely upon earthly things, thou pluckest darkness from the very light.

—Dante Alighieri,
Purgatorio

1
You Can Take the Demon out of Hell…

2
Hell's Kitchen

3
The Devil Inside

4
Wrestling with Your Demons

5
Idle Hands Are the Devil's Tools

6
A Deal with the Devil

7
Guilty as Sin

8
Heaven on Earth

9
For Heaven's Sake

10
Speak No Evil

11
What the Hell?

12
Facing Down Your Demons

13
Hell's Belles

14
For All Eternity

15
Deadly Sins

16
Damnation

17
Original Sin

18
The Demon's Lair

19
When Angels Fall

20
Angel's Breath

21
Hellfire

22
Unholy Hell

23
My Soul to Keep

24
The Devil in Me

25
A Living Hell

26
Highway to Hell

27
Tears from Heaven

28
End of Days

29
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Acknowlegments

Luc

Not that I'm complaining, but one serious downside of being a demon-turned-human is that I'm no longer indestructible. I stare at my bleeding face in the mirror and rinse the razor in the sink. As I examine the multitude of seeping wounds, I wonder how much blood a mortal can afford to lose.

Which brings me to another downside of being human: personal hygiene. Why the Almighty would design humans to require so much maintenance is beyond me. And all these millennia, I thought we demons were the ones who got off on torture.

I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around all this—my new life. Frannie. I woke up in my car this morning and my heart ached because, for an instant, I was sure it had all been a dream. But it was my aching heart—and the fact that I was asleep in the first place—that convinced me otherwise. Brimstone doesn't ache.

Which brings me to yet another downside: sleep. Now that I have to sleep, I can't protect Frannie like I want to. With some assistance from Starbucks, until last night I was able to hang on. But four o'clock this morning found me sound asleep in my car in front of her house, leaning over the steering wheel and drooling on my sleeve. I'm going to have to discuss shifts with Matt.

Frannie insists she doesn't need a guardian angel, but I'm glad for the help. Of course, I haven't been quite honest with her. She doesn't know that I'm still watching every night. She'd probably beat the crap out of me if she did. It's a little embarrassing to think that my five-two, hundred-pound girlfriend could kick my ass, but unfortunately, it's true.

“Frannie's on her way over.”

Even though the voice sounds smooth and musical, it still scares the hell out of me. It's a good thing the razor is in the sink, because if it'd been on my face, it would have left another gash.

I spin and survey my studio apartment for the source of the proclamation. Matt leans against the wall next to the unfinished edge of my wall mural, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his torn jeans.

“Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude not to knock?” I say. But seeing an angel standing there, next to a floor-to-ceiling painting of Hell, is more than I can take, and I burst out laughing.

Matt's sandy blond curls are almost to his shoulders, and his tanned face is positively angelic—except for the fact that he's glaring death at me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was an avenging angel, not a guardian. But, as I get myself back together, a hint of a smile creeps into those baby blues.

“She might have mentioned something about that.”

I hate that Frannie needs a guardian. I hate that I can't protect her anymore. But my power has completely dried up. There's no spark in the plugs. I
do
miss being able to shoot Hellfire out of my fists and blast things into oblivion.

But would I go back to what I was?

Never.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “So, if Frannie's on her way over, why aren't you watching her? Falling down on the job so soon? What the Hell kind of guardian angel are you?”

A grin spreads across Matt's face as he shrugs away from the wall. “She drives so fast not even the Hounds of Hell could catch her between there and here.”

I smile thinking about her driving that midnight blue '65 Mustang convertible, top down, music cranked. She does drive dangerously fast, but it's kind of sexy.

“Thanks for the backup last night, by the way,” I say as Matt glides over to my bookshelf and scans the titles. “I was hoping this whole sleep thing was overrated. Guess I was wrong.”

Pulling my original run Dante's
Purgatorio
from the volumes, he scowls. “I knew you were going to be useless. Why Gabriel thought you'd be any help at all, I'll never understand.” He fans the pages and then turns his glare back on me. “You're going to slip back into your old ways. I just know it. Demons don't change.”

“But I'm not a demon anymore. There
are
no ‘old ways.' Clean slate and all.”

“You'll slip.” He flips me a self-satisfied smirk, then slides Dante back onto the shelf. “And when you do, I hope it's a good one. I've been dying to smite someone. Nothing would make me happier than if it was you.”

“I thought only the hand of God could smite.”

An enigmatic smile turns the corners of his mouth. “Don't believe everything you hear.”

I walk back into the bathroom, shaking my head, and wipe the last traces of shaving cream from my face with a towel. “When will she get here?” I say, reexamining my wounds in the mirror and tugging at the dark circles under my eyes.

My finger courses along the bloodred scar twisting down the right side of my face—Beherit's parting gift—as Matt peers over my shoulder into the mirror and says, “Now.”

I push him aside and cross my studio to the window, throwing up the sash, just in time to see her pull in next to my black '68 Shelby Cobra and climb out of her car. Her face beams as she waves up at me and makes her way toward the door of my building. I sprint down the hall and meet her on the stairs.

She rushes up, smiling. “Hey. Missed you.”

Frannie's long, sandy blond waves are windblown and unruly. And I can't help but admire how that white tank top and those well-worn jeans hug every contour of her body without being tight. A large tear in those jeans teases me with a hint of skin, and I shudder.

“Hey,” I say. I loop my arms around her shoulders and run my hands through her hair, tying it in a knot at the base of her neck. “I missed you too.”

She pushes up onto her tiptoes, stretching her petite frame as far as it will go, but I still need to lean down and meet her halfway for our kiss. I guide her up the rest of the stairs and into my apartment.

She bounds through the door, and when she sees Matt, her eyes light up. Just watching them together, how happy she is to have him back, I have no doubt that it was her Sway that influenced Gabriel to choose Matt as Frannie's guardian. And, the best part: she looks at him with a light heart and clear eyes now. The guilt is gone. She had to forgive herself for Matt's death in order for Gabriel to tag her soul for Heaven, so I knew she had, but something lightens in my core to see it so clearly on her face.

“Hey, Matt. Long time no see,” she says.

Matt's expression is warm and genuine as he regards his sister. “Thought you were going to break the sound barrier on the way over. I was pretty sure you'd beat me here.” He hooks an arm over her shoulder. “If you won't drive more carefully, I'm going to have to wrap that Mustang in celestial Bubble Wrap.” He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, contemplating. “And maybe rig the accelerator.”

“Touch my car and you're dead, little brother.” As soon as the words leave her lips, her eyes widen. “I mean…”

Matt chuckles and pulls her back to his side. “Yeah, good luck with that. And I'm not your ‘little brother.'”

She swallows hard and offers a wily smile. “Yes, you are. By eight and a half minutes, according to Mom.” She shoves away from him and heads to the small wooden kitchen table, where she drops her bag onto a chair.

Up until a few weeks ago, I didn't need to eat, so the only furniture in my apartment was a big, black, king-sized bed—for recreational purposes. The addition of the table and two chairs became necessary when I kept finding food in my bed. And now that laundry is also a necessity—downsides of being human are racking up fast—we eat at the table.

I twine my fingers into hers. “Did you eat? I was going to make omelets.”

She gazes up at me, tracing a finger along the scar on my face, and I get completely lost in her eyes.

“Sounds good,” she says.

“What?”

A devilish smile breaks across her face. “Omelets?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Matt

“Not hungry, thanks,” I say.

They both look at me and Frannie cracks a smile. “That's 'cause you've never had one of Luc's omelets. He got the recipe off Rachael Ray's Web site. They're to die for,” she says, then cringes.

“I got it, sis. They're good. So, what's the plan for the day?”

Frannie shrugs. “Well, lunch, I guess. Then…” She looks at the demon, and an impish grin pulls at her lips. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking…?”

I roll my eyes and glower at Luc.

He leans back into the table and smirks at me as Frannie heads for the fridge. “Get your mind out of the gutter, cherub. The Mustang needs an oil change.”

Luc pushes off the table and moves to the kitchen, bringing a pan and bowl out from the cabinet below the stove. Frannie retrieves the eggs, milk, and a few bags of veggies from the fridge. As they move around the kitchen, they don't speak, but as they work, they seem completely unaware that they are always touching—connected. And perfectly in sync.

Suddenly, it feels too intimate. How can cooking lunch be intimate? I clench my teeth to keep from groaning. I can't stand this. I have to get out of here.

“So, if you guys don't need me, I guess I'll go.”

Frannie turns back to me and smiles. “Sure you don't want an omelet?” she says, holding up a tomato.

I can't help smiling back. “Got to watch my girlish figure.”

She cracks up as I push through the wall into the hall, where I stand guard.

Alone.

As usual.

I slide down to sit on the floor, my back against the wall. When Gabriel pulled me out of training to work with me himself, he said he had a special job for me. A job no one was better suited for. When he told me I was going to be Frannie's guardian, I couldn't believe it. I wasn't proud of how I'd treated her in life, and being seven was no excuse. This was perfect. How many people get the chance to make amends with their twin sister from the other side?

What he failed to mention is that my sister is in love with a freakin' demon. How did he let that happen?

So here I sit, banging my head against the wall helplessly while my sister is in there—in danger. Gabriel was clear. I can't interfere. He says it's her life. Her choice. He says things will work out.

I don't believe him.

And it's only a matter of time before the demon does something to prove me right.

Frannie

“Gabe has me experimenting with this Sway thing,” I say after lunch, handing Luc the cast iron skillet to wipe down.

His eyes tighten and he doesn't even try to hide the jealous edge to his voice. “Let me guess: late at night, all alone in your room.”

I can't help the flutter in my stomach or my blush, and I hate that I feel guilty. But I do. I still don't have a grasp on what I feel for Gabe. All I know is that I need him. When he's around, I can almost believe that things are gonna be okay, and when he touches me, all my panic seems to melt away.

I plunge my hands into the soapy dishwater and start scrubbing dishes madly. “Sometimes. But if the only person I can Sway is Gabe, that's not gonna accomplish much.”

He slams the pan down onto the counter with a crash that shakes the floor and stares at his hands, splayed on either side of it. “I sincerely doubt there's much you couldn't get Gabriel to do for you just by asking.”

I start, because it's Gabe who can read my mind, not Luc. But the way he's looking at me makes me wonder.

I sigh deeply and take a second to get myself back together.

“Anyway…we've been hanging at the park, mostly.” I feel my chest tighten as I push back the frustration that threatens to take charge of me every time I think about this whole stupid thing. “He thinks kids should be easier to influence. But I seem to be better at instigating stuff than stopping it.”

He yanks the pan off the counter by the handle. “Well, that bodes well for world peace.”

I drop my face into my soapy hands and groan. “I suck at this. I don't know what he thinks I'm supposed to be able to do, but I can't even break up a sandbox scuffle over a pail and shovel.” I hate the tears seeping from my eyes into my hands. I hate everything right now. “I can't do it. It doesn't work.”

I don't look at him as he turns me and presses me against the counter, his body hot against mine, his voice suddenly soft. “I'm sorry, Frannie. You know how hard this is for me…sorting all these
feelings.
Everything is going to work out.” He lifts my chin with his finger and wipes the suds off of my forehead with his hand. “It'll all come together.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I'll let you practice on me.”

I sniffle and wipe my nose on the back of my arm. “I did already.”

He grins and looks down at himself to be sure he's still intact. “Should I be worried?”

I sorta smile back. “No. I already did my thing on you without even knowing it. You were like my lab rat or something. My first victim.”

Before I even knew what Sway was, or that I had it, I was using it on Luc. 'Course, at the time, I also didn't know Luc was a demon. But I wanted him. A lot. And I got him by sorta accidentally turning him mortal with my Sway.

He pins me tighter against the counter, and I can't ignore how his body against mine makes me feel—like Jell-O. The look in his smoldering black eyes sends my heart racing. “And how did that experiment work out?”

I feel myself getting hot all over despite the cool dish suds running down my arms. I loop my soapy hands around his neck and watch him grimace as the cold water drips down his back.

“I don't think I'm done finding out. It's an ongoing investigation. You know, like…” I press myself harder into him, “What happens if I do this.”

I feel his body react, muscles tensing, his breathing becoming faster. I smile.

“Or this,” I say, reaching up onto my tiptoes to kiss his Adam's apple.

“Interesting reaction,” I say when he tips his head back and shudders. “I'll have to log that in my journal.”