The hairs on my neck prickled. “Is that…reincarnation?”
He shook his head. “This is my first time in a human form. I’m not strong enough to exist here without one anymore.”
“Was it strange? Going from thinking you were human to…” I stopped myself. How couldn’t it have been strange? It was like asking if water was wet.
“It’s like not knowing you had another limb until it grows back. Then you know what it was and how to use it.”
He turned the car along Alaskan Way and parked near the waterfront. City lights sparkled and danced off the water. Thick gray clouds covered the sky, except around the moon which had managed to peek through and light up the rippling waves.
“Why are you back now? After all this time?” I asked as we got out of the car. The sea air smelled of kelp and creosote from the docks, and its dampness made my skin tingle.
“I was in…recovery. Time doesn’t exist the way it does here. I had no idea where or when I’d be assigned, but I knew eventually I’d have to come back.”
“What for?”
He gazed out over the water and the wind caught his voice, making it almost inaudible. “To face you.”
We crossed the street and headed to a Mexican restaurant nearby. When he opened the door, the warm smell of fresh salsa, chilies, and herbs washed over us, making my mouth water. The fluorescent lights were so bright I had to squint to read the menu on the wall. Even then, the words swirled as though I were drunk. I drew in a deep breath to steady myself. Michael touched my arm, standing so close to me I could smell the sweetness of his skin mixed with the scent of fresh lime that hung in the air. In that moment he seemed very real, very human, and very sexy.
A man working alone behind the counter took our order and offered to bring it to our table. We sat by the window. Michael held my chair for me, and even though it was casual we were definitely out together, like a date. I should have felt guilty about going out with someone else’s boyfriend, but I didn’t. Being with him seemed right.
My cell phone rang, startling me. I fished it out of my purse and saw Heather’s number. Immediately thinking it was about Fiona, I answered. “Is everything okay?”
“You asked me to call you, remember?” said Heather. With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten. “I know I’m late, but I figured you were doing fine.”
I checked the time. It was 8:45. So much for my plan to use a phone call to escape Damiel. If Michael hadn’t arrived, I could have been dead by now. “Everything’s okay.”
“Have fun,” she said and hung up.
I didn’t realize how hungry I was until there was food in front of me. Before I knew it, I’d wolfed down a large bean burrito. As Michael chewed, the bright fluorescents revealed a tiny scar at the hinge of his jaw, a flaw that didn’t detract from his looks but enhanced them.
“How’d you get the scar?” I asked, gesturing at it.
“Oh, that.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a wide grin and the scar crinkled slightly. “I’ve had it since I was six. Thought I’d try shaving one day. Took my dad’s straight razor, but forgot to use shaving cream.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the idea of him being six or the idea of an angel with a shaving nick, but it made me want to laugh. I stifled it—poorly.
He swallowed a bite of his food, noticing my expression. “What?”
“Sure. Demons can’t hurt you, but shaving?”
“What makes you think demons can’t hurt me?” He took another bite of his taco.
Of course they could. But if they could hurt him, I didn’t want to think about they would do to me.
I scooped some guacamole with a tortilla chip. “You mentioned something before about other Watchers. What are they?”
“Grigori. It’s the order of angels I belonged to.”
“Not anymore?”
He chewed thoughtfully. “You could say I’m in rehab.”
“Rehab? Like AA—only Angels Anonymous?”
He shook his head despairingly at my joke. “What else would you call it? Coming back to this world to live a human life.” He lowered his voice. “While I try to be an angel again.”
“Slumming?”
“There are worse places.”
“Than high school?”
That made him laugh. “Okay, maybe not.”
***
He picked up the tab for dinner despite my protests, and we made our way to the door as the restaurant filled with a later crowd. Not wanting our evening to be over yet, I lingered on the way out. His hand brushed my lower back to guide me and a tingle ran all the way down my legs.
Still warm from his touch, I didn’t notice the cold sea air until we stepped outside and it cut through my clothes. I’d dressed for fashion, not warmth. Michael took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders; it was warm and smelled of lightning and grass after it rains.
“Where to now?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t say home.
“It’s too cold for a walk.” His breath formed clouds of steam as he spoke.
“I’m okay if you are.”
He guided me a few short blocks to the waterfront and piers. The tourist shops were closed now, but there was a well-lit path that led to the docks. Nearby, a group of young guys practiced tricks on their skateboards while a busker put away his guitar. Though it wasn’t a dangerous area at night, it was close enough to some of the seedier areas downtown that I wouldn’t have gone there alone.
We approached a long boardwalk lit by globe lights, our steps rhythmic on the wood below. “Damiel called you ‘brother’ earlier.”
“That’s what Grigori call each other.”
“He’s a Grigori, too?”
Michael slowed his pace. Sadness tightened the hollows of his eyes and reminded me that this being standing beside me—half-human, half-angel—was truly ancient. “He was. Before he fell.”
“You said he was a demon. How can he be a Grigori like you and a demon now?”
“He’s not like me,” he said so quickly I was afraid I’d upset him. He took a deep breath. “When you’re one of us, you don’t just fall and that’s it. Falling is a constant, endless thing. At first you feel the same, only you’re alone—no longer connected. But then the other voices start.”
He spoke about the voices as if he’d experienced them first-hand. The idea chilled me. “What kind of voices?”
“Dark voices,” he said. “If you give in and side with them, you keep falling, which is what Damiel did.”
“What about Hell?”
“Hell is just a place. Demons that are strong enough come and go at will so they can hurt people.”
He spoke of Hell as though he knew it. Had he been there? Would Damiel be back? I wanted to ask him so much more, but the hurt and warning in his eyes had me deciding against it.
We stopped on the dock. Across the harbor, tiny lights from the streets and houses speckled the islands of Puget Sound. The ferry leaving Colman Pier sounded its horn.
Michael rested his hand on the railing, and I became very aware of his presence beside me: the deep slow sound of his breathing, the closeness of his body, and all the barriers between us. I reached for him, gently touching the backs of his fingers. As I did, I felt an electric current that made me want to pull him toward me. Afraid of the intensity of that impulse, I backed away.
Closing his eyes, he exhaled. Though he didn’t move, everything around him seemed to come alive. Light radiated from his body, its outer edge shimmering with golden white sparkles. Trying to touch the light, I reached out. It moved around my hand like phosphorescence in the night sea and tingled like warm soda bubbles on my skin.
Michael turned to me at that moment, unfocused, as though returning from somewhere far away.
“There’s something around you,” I explained. “Gold and white flashes.”
He smiled self-consciously and the light around him flared brighter. “You can see that?”