Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin (27 page)

I feel my chest loosen a little just at the thought of him here. “'Kay. I'll try.”

I flip the phone shut and wait till the hall is quiet, then hurry to the bathroom with my towel and bathrobe.

The water feels good on my hot skin. I stand with my hands braced against the wall and let it wash over me, rinsing me clean—on the outside, at least. But I can't shake the agitated twitchiness on the inside: a combination of the memory of being inside Lilith and the unease of the eerie comfort I felt in King Lucifer's arms. I shudder with the memory of the angelic face.

Why was it that face I saw when He held me? Whose face was it?

Finally, I groan in frustration and force my thoughts to Taylor. I have to help her.

I hurry through the rest of my shower routine, and when I finish, I twist my hair into the towel and inspect my face in the mirror again as I brush my teeth. One cut at my hairline above my right eye that you'd have to move my hair to see, a reddish swollen spot on my right cheek, and a puffy lower lip. Easy enough to explain away. The worst of it is under my clothes. I slide my robe gingerly over my bruised body and make my way back to my room. Maggie comes out of the room she shares with Grace as I pass by.

“Why is Luc in our driveway? I thought you guys broke up.”

Despite my best attempt not to let him affect me, my heart sputters. “Um…we did. I don't know why he's here.”

She grins at me, hope sparkling in her sapphire blue eyes. She's always had a crush on Luc. “Maybe he wants you back.”

“Not likely,” I say, but my heart goes from sputtering to skipping.

She shrugs, disappointed, and heads into the bathroom while I slide through my door. I press the Play button on my iPod just as the phone starts ringing. I run to the desk, pick it up, and look at the caller ID. Taylor! It's her home line.

I bring the phone to my ear. “Taylor. Are you okay?”

“Frannie?” At the sound of Taylor's mom's voice, my heart sinks. “I was hoping Taylor was there.”

“No, Mrs. Stevens.”

There's a pause. “It's getting late. She's been doing good with her curfew lately. Did she tell you where she was going?”

I can't do this. I fight tears and work to keep my voice steady. “No.”

“Well, if you hear from her, tell her to get her butt home, okay?”

“Sure.”

I stare at the phone in my hand. Taylor. She's out there and I'm helpless.

Or am I?

“Leave Taylor alone. You don't want her,” I say out loud. Then I repeat it over and over in my head, faster and faster. Still repeating the mantra, I pull the towel from my hair, toss it over my desk chair, and turn out my light.

And then my gut clenches as I remember Luc.

In the dark, I stand a cautious distance from the open window and look down into the driveway. When I don't see him, I tug my bathrobe so tightly around me that it makes my ribs throb, and move closer. It's not till I'm at the window, face pressed against the screen, that I notice the glowing red eyes staring at me from the oak branches just outside.

I start to scream and stumble back from the window when Luc pushes through the screen, leaving it in tatters. And before I can check the scream, he does it for me. His lips are hot on mine, and my scream morphs into a moan as his arms pull me to his burning body. He mistakes my moan for pain and lightens his grip.

He pulls away and looks down at me, his expression full of pain and his eyes full of doubt. “Frannie—”

I don't want to hear the rest of that thought, because I don't want to think about any of it. He's here and I love him. That's all that matters. I let go of the robe, lift my hand, and place my index finger softly over his lips. I force my mind to focus on now—here—Luc, and block out the rest. I pull him back to me, silencing him with another kiss, and sway with the music, deeper into Luc with every beat.

He kisses me back. Hard. Deep. Desperate. His lips burn a track across my shoulder, my neck, working their way up to my ear, where he whispers, “I'm so sorry.”

The despair in his words crushes my heart. I press my face into his shirt. “It wasn't your fault. I know that now.”

I look up at him and he kisses a tear from my lashes. I bring his mouth back to mine and push him toward my bed, sliding my hands under his shirt as we go. But as I smooth my hands over his flawless skin, I gasp and pull away. His skin isn't flawless anymore. Far from it. I lift his shirt and gape at the deep red gashes and puncture wounds covering his chest, back, and shoulders. I shudder as I remember the dream—the torture.

“What happened?” I whisper, afraid of the answer.

A small, sad smile curls the corners of his mouth. “It's nothing. They'll be gone in a few days.” He gestures to his cheek, and I notice for the first time that the jagged red scar Beherit left as a souvenir is gone. “Nothing like these.” His hand hesitates, then glides along my ribs, where my bathrobe has fallen open. I start to pull it closed, but his hand on my skin feels electric, yet so gentle, caressing my wounds. I feel the ache ease just from his touch.

My body responds to him: a warm glow starting low in my belly and spreading through me till I'm on fire. I press into him again, letting my robe slide off my shoulders and fall to the floor, and I pull his shirt over his head. Then I pull him onto the bed, under the sheets—where he can take my pain away.

As Luc kisses me deeper, I lose myself in him. I need him closer, next to my heart. I want to feel his essence swirling inside me again. I reach out with my mind—not with words, but with the sensation of what I need. And when I feel his essence slip through my lips, like silk, I'm flooded with him. Drowning in him. Goose bumps pebble my tingling skin and I moan and pull him closer.

His essence fills me, a burst of bliss, caressing every part of me and making me shudder. Nothing in the physical world feels like this. I feel him in every part of my body.

It feels like coming home.

Luc

This is so wrong. And so selfish.

It would be too easy to forget everything right now, just pretend that the last weeks never happened, and sink into Frannie, into the moment. And I want that more than anything. I've never been so torn in my existence. I need her. She's my life.

But I can't forget.

No matter how many millennia I live, I'll never forget the pain in Frannie's eyes when she pulled back the sheets and found me with Lilith. I'll never forget the sickening despair that almost destroyed me when I understood what had happened. And I'll never forget that it was all my fault. Being human was no excuse. Lilith told me what she was that day in the library. I should have known.

And that's just one example of all the ways I could destroy Frannie if we stay together.

Frannie's touch is tentative, trembling, as she pulls me closer. Fire dances over my skin at her every touch, like tiny pyrotechnics. My brimstone heart pounds in my chest. And the feeling of my essence swirling with hers is beyond compare—the sheer bliss of being part of her, blending with the shimmering opalescent white of her soul. I've never seen anything nearly as beautiful, and the rush of sensations takes my breath away.

Being with her like this makes me realize that, in my few short months of humanity, I'd begun to take those sensations for granted—the vastness of her compassion and capacity for love. And the scale of emotions that she brings out in me.

My need to blend not only our souls, but also our bodies, nearly carries me away. I'm lost in the clove and currant of her soul, smothered in the warm chocolate of her love. For just a moment, I believe we can be together—in every way.

Chocolate. She loves me.

The realization makes me want her more, and it's nearly impossible to stop. But what I did is unforgivable. She deserves so much better than this.

And sleeping with me now would reverse her tag.

I draw back my essence and pull away from her lips—her shaking hands—while I still can. “Frannie, we can't. I'm a demon now. Your tag…”

Her tag.

It hits me like a lightning bolt. How could I have done that? We can't possess people who are tagged for Heaven. I reach out with my sixth sense to check. She still feels as though she's tagged for Heaven. So, how—?

Her body tenses as she presses her forehead into my shoulder, but she doesn't respond.

I can't keep the concern out of my voice. “I only stayed to…watch. To be sure you were safe. I never meant for us to end up…”

She releases me and rolls onto her side, away from me. “So, you don't want—”

I cut her off, because I
do
want this. But she shouldn't. “What I want is irrelevant. I don't know what Lilith's next move will be. I only meant to stay here to be sure she couldn't get to you.”

At Lilith's name, she stiffens again and pulls the sheets tight around her.

She doesn't look at me, and her voice is a raw wound. “I need to know. When you were with her—”

“Stop, Frannie,” I interrupt, because the thought of what I did—what she saw—is unbearable. “Please.”

Every cell of my being protests as I roll out of the bed. It's physically painful to pull myself away from her. I retrieve her robe from the floor with a shaking hand, laying it on the pillow next to her, then tug my T-shirt over my head and move to the window. “I need to leave.”

But I'm not sure I can.

I stand, staring, for several heartbeats, then take a step back toward the bed.

Stop!

I groan and rip my eyes away from the form of her body under the thin sheet. I clear my throat against the hot lump forming there. “I'll be right outside. I don't think she can get to you here—she'd have to come through a door or window,” I say, fingering the tattered screen.

Her eyes don't move from the wall. “Go find Taylor.”

“I'm sorry.” My voice breaks. I push through the window and climb back into the tree.

It takes longer than I'd hoped to compose myself, sitting on a branch outside. But I don't fight the urge to phase back into her room, because I need to know if Mr. Cavanaugh's field is still intact. I close my eyes and focus on Frannie's bed. When I phase, I feel myself slam into the barrier, and I'm back on the tree limb.
Good.

I settle into a fork in the branches and wait for Gabriel. And because I'm not hurting anyone but myself by doing it—and I deserve to hurt—I let my mind wander back into Frannie's bed.

Frannie

I haven't moved from the spot where Luc left me, and I'm wide awake when the phone rings again at midnight.

Taylor's mom.

Dread pulls at my insides and I think about letting it ring, afraid of what I might say if I answer. When I pick up, her voice is desperate—on the edge of hysterical. “When did you last talk to Taylor, Frannie?”

“Taylor hasn't spoken to me in weeks.” I breathe deep and try to keep it together.

“What?” Her tone is sheer disbelief. Apparently, Taylor didn't fill her in.

“I didn't like Marc.” I nearly gag on the name. “She was pissed.”

I hear her choke back a moan. “The police won't do anything. They say she's probably out with some boy or something. If you can think of anywhere to look…”

My mind is racing—and getting nowhere. “I don't know. She was at Lili's earlier…maybe…I don't know.”

There's a long pause. “Well, if you think of anything…or if you hear from her, call me.”

“Okay,” I say, but she's already gone. Probably dialing Riley.

I sit up, pull on the T-shirt from under my pillow, and hug the sheets to my chest. Where would Lilith go? If she goes back to the apartment, Gabe will find her. But if not… is she on the run, or is she still after me? If she's given up, she could be anywhere, but what are the chances of that? So, maybe if I put myself out there, like bait, she'll come to me.

I start to work out my plan: Shake the bodyguards and get somewhere she'll find me. But where? I play out scenarios in my head…all the ways this could go. In only a few of them do Taylor and I both come out alive.

The lightning in my head sears through my already throbbing brain, shocking me out of my restless non-sleep. I try to push everything from my mind, suddenly terrified of what this means—who I'll see if I let the image form. But there's no stopping it. I already know who it is.

Taylor.

My stomach lurches as I try to block out the vision of Taylor covered in blood, lying in the woods. I roll to the edge of the bed and miss the trash can when I puke, but there isn't much in my stomach, seeing as I've had no appetite for a while.

And that's when I realize I'm alone. No Gabe. He was here during the night. I felt his summer snow and his cool breath in my hair. It was the only reason I was able to sleep at all. But he's gone now.

I pick up my phone and hit Taylor's speed dial. If Lilith picks up…But when it goes to voice mail, I release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, hang up, and speed-dial
3.

Riley picks up on the first ring. “Did she call you?”

“No. I was hoping, maybe, that you've heard something.”

“Not really. Trev's here. Says his parents are freaking out. The police say she's eighteen and they think she's just a runaway, so they're not doing anything.” Her voice lowers and I can tell she's cupping the phone. “Do you think she could have? Could she have taken off with that Marc guy?”

As bad as that would be, I close my eyes and wish it were that simple. Behind my eyelids floats the vision of Taylor bleeding in the woods.

I gasp and jump from the bed as I recognize her surroundings.

“I gotta go, Ry. Call me later.” I snap the phone shut without waiting for her reply.

Gallaghers'.

I was so quick to block the image out that I didn't notice details at first, but the grayed shingles of the Gallaghers' shed are there, at the periphery of the image. The ground around the shed is sprinkled with beer cans, cigarette butts, and a used condom. As I replay the image in my head, looking for more detail, I notice that this vision has sound. I can distinctly hear The Fray sing “How to Save a Life.” My stomach lurches again when I smell the salty, metallic copper of her blood in the heavy dusk air.

Dusk.

Taylor will be dying behind the Gallaghers' shed at dusk.

I throw on my clothes, gasping for air, and it's not till I raise my arms overhead to slide my shirt on that I feel the stabbing pain in my ribs. I lied to Gabe. At least one of them is broken for sure. But that's the least of my worries.

Mom tackles me with pancakes and sausage when I hit the bottom of the stairs. “You're the only one who's going to get a warm breakfast. Everyone else is still in bed.”

My stomach rolls at the prospect of food. “I'm really not hungry, Mom. I'm going over to Riley's,” I lie.

At first she scowls, but then her face softens. “You've got to eat, Frannie. I know this breakup has been hard on you, but you can't lose any more weight. It's not healthy.”

I'm wasting time. I need to get out of here and talk to Gabe—figure out what to do. I lash out in frustration. “It isn't the breakup, Mom. I'm just not hungry.” I turn and bound out the door before she has a chance to respond.

I race down the street, but halfway to Gabe's, it hits me that this may not be the best strategy. What if Gabe scares Lilith off?

I might only have one shot. This might be my only chance to get Taylor back.

Think.

My mind returns to my original plan, before I knew where Taylor was. I can use myself as bait—lure her out. With no Gabe or Luc to scare Lilith off, it could work.

She needs someone tagged for Hell to shift into. What if I can use my Sway to convince her
I'm
tagged for Hell? She'd try to shift from Taylor into me—I'm the one she wants, after all. But I'm tagged for Heaven, so she wouldn't be able to enter my body. The bodies she's shifting between need to be touching—that's what Dad said. So if I push Taylor away during the shift, Lilith would be left without a body. Can she survive that way? Gabe said her soul is human, so I'm pretty sure that'd be a no. My heart races as the plan, along with the danger involved, comes clear in my mind.

All I need to do is get Lilith out of Taylor, and then get Taylor away from Lilith.

Without Gabe or Luc screwing it up.

My Shield is useless against Luc, and Gabe can read my mind unless I'm really careful—so I need to avoid them both.

I flip open my phone and call Riley. I hate using her this way, but it's for Taylor. If I could explain it to her, I'm sure she'd go along. This should work on two fronts. I need to keep Riley safe, but I also need an alibi.

“Riley, can you and Trev come over?”

“Did Taylor call?”

“No, but I have an idea,” I say, turning for home.

I'll eat some pancakes—make Mom happy. And if my Sway's worth anything, no one will notice me leave when the time comes.

Luc

What I did last night was inexcusable. And if I stay, I'll do it again. I've replayed every caress, every kiss, over and over in my mind. The only way she'll ever be safe is with Gabriel. He should have left me to Lucifer.

That's what I need to do—go back to Hell and face the music. Otherwise, I'm not sure how I'll manage to stay away from her.

But then I remember the Mage. If I go back, I'm certain they'll use me to find Frannie. “I need to go.”

“Where?” Gabriel is sprawled on his couch, picking absently at a piece of lint on the cushion.

“Anywhere but here.”

“So, after everything, you're still going to run.” He smirks. “Coward.”

My eyes snap up and I lurch off the chair, my fist hot and red. But as I level it at him, I catch the white lightning dancing across the surface of his skin, and smell the ozone, suddenly thick in the air. He's goading me. I sink back into the chair. “I'm not in the mood for your games.”

His face becomes serious and the static charge in the air makes the hair on my neck stand on end. “This is no game.”

“There's nothing I can do. She'll be better off with me gone.”

He blows out a sigh, and his face tightens. “I wish that were true, but as much as it pains me to say it, she's still in love with you.”

“Was. She
was
in love with me, and then I slept with Lilith and fixed that. She wants you now,” I say, wanting it to be true. I shiver at the memory of her warm chocolate. She shouldn't love me. She'll be better off with Gabriel, wings or no.

“No. She still needs you, Luc.” He nearly chokes on the words, and his head drops onto the back of the couch.

My face pulls into a pained grimace. As I screw my eyes shut, I see her robe sliding off her shoulders, feel my hands on her skin, and the memory tears a hole in my heart. I prop my heavy head in my hand. “She's tough. She'll get past it.” But I won't.

“I'm not convinced.” Gabriel's brow creases and he rubs it as though he has a headache.

I look him hard in the eye. “Is she still tagged for Heaven?”

He shifts in his seat, pulling himself straighter. “You should know that without having to ask.”

“She seems to be, but…”

“But what?”

“How could I possess her if she's still tagged for Heaven?”

He lifts his eyebrows and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “What did you do?”

My eyes drop to the carpet. “I stopped before we…did anything we couldn't take back, but my essence was inside her. I felt a pull and I let it go.”

A rueful, lopsided smile curves his mouth. “Apparently even the laws of the universe bend to her Sway.”

“You think her Sway did that?”

“If she wanted it…” He shrugs. “Which is why I need you to stay.” He holds my gaze for a moment, then drops his. “I can't trust myself around her.”

“So, what's new?” I say, trying and failing to hide the pang of jealousy.

“When you're gone, her pull on me is…” His eyes are tortured. “I'm going to lose my wings, and then I'll be useless to her.”

My voice is acid. “So you need me to stay here and save you from your sorry self.”

He props his head on the back of the couch again and stares at the ceiling. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“What if I end up…” I trail off and shudder, thinking of last night. “You seem to forget her pull on me is no different.”

“Stronger. I'm betting she'll turn you mortal again,” he says without lifting his head. The pain in his voice is deep and raw.

I pull myself from the chair. “I need to leave—for a lot of reasons. It's obvious that if I stay, I'll end up doing something I shouldn't, and besides, this is the first place Hell will look for me. Lucifer's not going to be happy about all of Hell witnessing His little example go awry.”

He weighs that for a long moment. “For now, anyway,” he finally says. “We'll figure out a way to hide you away. Your Shield will help.”

“Unless I use my magic. It's sort of a catch twenty-two. I'm pretty sure I can't evade them without it, but the minute I use it, they'll find me.”

“Maybe I can help get you a head start.”

“That'd be greatly appreciated. But first we need to find Lilith.” I feel every muscle in my body tighten as the face of the girl who was Lilith floats in front of my eyes. “Who was she?”

“Who?”

“The girl I…” My self-disgust causes my stomach to lurch and I swallow back sour bile at the thought of what I did to her. “The girl who was Lilith's host.” Lilith's victim.

Gabriel leans onto the arm of the chair, looking exhausted. “Her name is Robin. I got her settled at the hospital last night. I'll check on her later.” Then he looks up into my eyes. “Sleeping with her wasn't your fault, Luc. You know what Lilith is.”

I stand and turn for the door, feeling the need to run, and when I open it, Riley and Trevor are standing there. Riley's obviously been crying and Trevor looks pale—in shock.

Surprise widens Riley's eyes. “Luc.”

I breathe deep and try to clear my head. “Riley. Any word from Taylor?”

“No. We've been over at Frannie's. She's got a phone list for our class. We're texting everyone to see if anyone's seen her.”

Gabriel steps up beside me in the door. “Good. Make sure Frannie doesn't leave her house.”

“Why?”

“I just want to know where to find her.”

Riley nods. “She wanted me to give you this,” she says, holding out a folded sheet of yellow paper. “She said it was easer to write it down than to call you,” she adds as Gabriel plucks the paper from her fingers and unfolds it. “She thought maybe you could check these out.”

On the paper is a time line of sorts. There are notations of time in the margin—Taylor sightings starting from yesterday afternoon. There are three dark asterisks next to the time stamp “8:30” and a notation next to it: “Luc's apartment.”

After that, there are only two additional notations, each with a large question mark next to them. One says “?10:15ish—Cassidy thinks they were parking at quarry.” Then, underlined next to it, is another note. “I don't think so.” Obviously Frannie's personal observation. The next line reads, “?11:00—Aaron thinks he saw her at the KwikMart.” Frannie's note here says, “Maybe.” And the final line on the paper is Marchosias's address. It's been traced over several times and underlined repeatedly. Next to it, Frannie's note simply says, “Here.”