Certain that the hellhounds would finish the angels off, Damiel walked away from the fight with a smug look on his face and turned to me. “Now, where were we?”
I fought the urge to scream, knowing I wouldn’t make a sound. It would just make me feel pathetic. I could wiggle my toes now and move my hands with great effort. I had to outsmart him, to buy myself time, so I gave Damiel what I hoped was a sultry smile and said nothing. It seemed to work. He walked toward me, unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
Could deceit work on the deceiver? I was about to find out.
“Right. You were going to tell me how much you wanted me.” He waved his hand and something released in my throat.
“How do you see this playing out?” I asked him. He glared at me seductively. I swallowed the bile that rose to my mouth. “I mean, once we do this, what about the child? What about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep saying you want me. But what if you got me?”
“Oh, I will.” He gave me a menacing look.
“What if I wanted to be with you?”
He looked dubious, so I lied more. I could only hear the fighting in the other room, Michael’s increased breathing, the wet, thudding sounds of flesh being hit, the cracking of bones. I had to focus, keep my attention on Damiel and remember that his sin was, above all else, envy. I had to use it to my advantage.
“You were right, you know. I could never be satisfied with half a relationship. That’s why I ended it. Wanting but never having—this whole celibacy thing gets tired after a while,” I said, hoping he’d buy it.
To my relief, he did. He rushed me then and kissed me. It was animalistic and passionate, and very human. Hardly demonic at all. The heady flood of his energetic glamour poured into me, making the experience less horrible than I expected. Not that it was pleasant or exciting by any means, but my body seemed to know what it needed to do to survive, and I responded to him.
Just close your eyes and think of Michael, a voice inside me said. Tell him what you’d tell Michael.
“I wish I could touch you,” I heard myself say, motioning to my hands with my eyes.
Damiel stopped kissing me and placed his hand on my face. The gesture freed me from my bondage so I could move again. As promised, I touched his chest, pretending it belonged to someone else, someone I loved. His skin was smooth and warm to the touch. It was Giulio’s skin, but Damiel seemed to enjoy it.
“What if…” I began, then paused, waiting for him to want to hear what I had to say.
“What if what?” he asked, kissing my neck. I held my breath so I would be forced to gasp, to elevate my own breathing.
“What if I wanted you more than him?”
His eyes glowed red. “I can make that possible for you.” He then lifted his hand to my forehead again and I could see the dark swirls coming off his fingers. All I had to do was let him touch me and I would want to be with him. All of this would be easy.
I shook my head. “It won’t be real if you force me.”
He stared at me a long time, as though trying to figure me out. I did my best to give him a smoldering look. I still heard fighting in the next room, but couldn’t move to watch what was going on. I just prayed that Michael was safe. Arielle, too. At the very least, I needed to keep Damiel distracted.
“Why wouldn’t I want you just for you?” I put on a smile, stroking his chest. “Have you seen you?”
He let out a deep laugh that sounded even more inhuman than before and kissed my neck, his teeth grazing my throat. I gasped involuntarily with fear but pretended to enjoy it.
“If you want the love that should be Michael’s,” I said, “you can have it.”
He hesitated. Envy is the act of wanting what another person has. Once something was given freely, would it mean the same? He said he wanted me to look at him the way I looked at Michael. Would it work? Would he still want my heart if it didn’t belong to another? I remembered how I felt with Michael, the breathless need to connect, and I tried to show that in my eyes. I could only hope he bought it. Then he kissed me again, hungrily, without gentleness, as his hands explored my body. I squirmed involuntarily; luckily he took it for pleasure.
I kept talking and, not sure what exactly to say, I ad-libbed. “Yes, you can have me…and I will have your son, as I did so long ago.” He let out a grunt of pleasure hearing that, which told me I was on the right track. “Let Michael keep his goodness…”
Hearing that, he stopped kissing me. A snarl formed on his face.
Ignoring the threat of his rage, I continued, “And his redemption.”
Damiel sat up abruptly, his eyes flashing red. For a moment, I thought he might hit me. “I don’t want that!”
“Good. Everyone leaves me. Even Michael. I can never be with him. All he cares about is seeing Heaven again, his home. He misses it. There was never a day in our past that he didn’t, and I wouldn’t want the same from you. I need a guy who knows what he wants.”
The fighting sounds in the background slowed. I held my breath in the eerie quiet, waiting to see who won.
“I did miss it,” Michael’s voice echoed from the doorway. I bit my lip, trying not to show my relief at seeing him alive. Even with dark rings under his eyes and blood and black fluid matted in his hair, covering his clothes, he was a glorious sight. Light seemed to emanate from him. “Every day on earth, as beautiful as it is, can never touch the beauty of Heaven.”
Rage exploded through Damiel like a firecracker and he was on his feet. “Why won’t you die already?” Turning to his opponent, he poised himself to attack. Michael tilted his head to one side and swung out his sword, ready.
“No. Wait. Damiel. Please hear me!”
He backed up, a step out of Michael’s reach. Not letting Michael out of his sight, Damiel wouldn’t turn to look at me, not even for a second. “What is it, sweetness? Don’t you think your charade is over now?”
“No. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
Damiel gave me a triumphant grin. Michael looked defeated. All I could do was pray he’d understand what I was doing and count on the fact that he could feel my feelings and know the truth.
“You’re not going to leave me, are you? Go back?”
This time Damiel did look, and Michael could have taken a shot but didn’t. Instead, he watched me with curiosity as the demon asked, “Back where?”
“To Heaven,” I explained. “If Michael had a shot at redemption after all his sins, why wouldn’t you?”
My words hit Damiel like a blow, visibly shaking him.
“It’s only fair.” Arielle stepped through the doorway, covered in grime and dusting black soot off herself. “She’s right, you know,” she said, her face perfectly neutral. “You could always come back…if you wanted to.”
“It would be work,” Michael said. He glanced at Arielle, and a look of understanding shot between them. “A lot of work.”
I had no idea if what we were saying was true, but it seemed to have an effect. Energy swarmed around Damiel like black angry wasps, as though he were being stung by his own greed. He rushed Michael, and in turn Michael raised his sword and dug it into Damiel’s—or, rather, Giulio’s—body. As I had seen before, the body went limp, undamaged. Only this time it was different. Michael stood fiercely, watching the body, or rather the energy around it, form into a dense black swirl.
Accompanied by a loud electrical cracking sound, the swirl grew and began to take on a skeletal shape, growing taller and taller until it almost touched the ceiling. Then it fleshed out, literally, as black sinews and muscles grew over the bones. The body resembled the hooded creatures Arielle had been fighting—only much larger. Strong and completely hairless, it towered at least six inches above Michael. Tattered, leathery wings sprang from its huge, spiny back, but they remained tucked to fit in the small room. The demon turned sideways and its face was pointed, angular. I didn’t need to look into the eyes to know they were red.