Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 122
“Still alive, I see,” Myra said, smiling lightly as I approached.
“Just barely,” I said, ruefully rubbing my sore throat. Myra pushed her chocolate milkshake over to me and I partook of it liberally. The cold soothed the dull ache around my neck for now. I’d have to ask her to heal it later.
“Are you guys alright?” I asked.
Myra lowered the sunglasses enough to give me an incredulous look. “I’m having lunch with a dead guy. You do realize that?”
I rolled my eyes. “You think that’s weird and not the fact that you have a raging hellbeast for a pet back at home?”
She shrugged. “It’s all relative.”
I took a seat and smiled at Domingo, who nodded to me. “How are you?”
“Still dead,” Domingo said with a faint smile. “So that’s not great, but otherwise, I’m fine. I’m glad you’re okay. I wish I could have helped you when Ortega got nasty.”
“Well, I walked out alive and that’s all that matters. Can you give me a report of what you found out about the Kiln?”
“Yes, of course, but…” He nibbled his bottom lip, his brow furrowing. “I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “The basement is indeed where they keep the cash and shuttle the product to the buyers, but…there are people down there.”
My eyes widened. “You mean…workers?”
He nodded. “I stayed long enough to hear that they aren’t other demons. They’re prisoners. Slaves, basically. They count the money, package the heroin, and do other demeaning tasks that the demons force them to do.”
I shut my eyes. “How many?”
“Fifteen.”
“Shit,” I said softly. “Goddamn those monsters.”
Myra watched me carefully. “What do you think we should do?”
I steepled my fingers and pressed them to my lips, mulling the new facts over in my head. “How long did you watch over them?”
“All night. Once they’re done working, they go into the cellar and sleep. I didn’t see any way out other than the front door.”
“Do you think the angels knew about the captives?” Myra asked me.
I shook my head. “They definitely would have made a move on the demons if they had. Still, I don’t know if it’s enough motivation to get them to mobilize a strike to save them.”
Myra grimaced. “Look, I know what I said before, that I don’t want the angels involved, but…”
She shook her head. “This is bigger than me. Than my boys. Call Jon and see if he’ll meet with us. We can’t let those people be slaves to the demons. We have to get them out, no matter what.”
I nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”
For obvious reasons, the places where demons met were called “nests” because it reminded one of a rat’s nest or an equally undesirable creature that dwelled in a dark place. Angels, however, had a different term. The one I’d read in Andrew’s journal was “haven” and that made perfect sense. Jon told me to meet him at an art museum, and it seemed rather haven-y to me.
Like most traditional art museums, the walls were high and strikingly white so that whatever painting or sculpture lay upon it would stand out more. It was late afternoon, so there were plenty of people in nice clothing strolling through the labyrinth of the museum, talking in soft tones and sipping the complimentary wine offered by the staff members. It turned out that Jon was an art dealer by day, which was by far the most interesting occupation I’d seen so far from the angels I’d met over the years. It made sense. I could listen to that accent for hours if you let me. He had a terribly soothing voice. Y’know, when he wasn’t yelling at me for being reckless.
We didn’t have time for me to dress up before going, so I felt extremely out of place in my jeans and boots as we walked in and asked the girl at the front counter for Jon. She looked rather skeptical when she saw me, but she called for him and he met us a minute later. He was dressed to the nines in a sharp black suit, no tie, the first button of his collar undone and his thick hair brushed away from his face. He did a bit of a double take when he saw the ghost next to us, but gestured for us to follow him.
He led us through the gallery to the large room at the end of the museum that was mostly empty. One of the staff members offered us wine. Myra partook. I didn’t. Wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur. Gabriel had tried to teach me the differences between types of wine, but it never stuck.
“Well,” Jon said evenly, eying the three of us as we stood in a close semi-circle around him. “What was so urgent that you called for a meeting?”
I nodded towards Domingo. “Tell him what you told us.”
He did. Jon downed his wine, handed the glass off to someone, and sighed deeply. “Father above. That certainly does change things.”
I took a deep breath, dreading the answer, but I asked the question anyway. “But does it make it better or worse?”
“Unfortunately, that is not my call to make. We aren’t like the demons here. Angels operate as a democracy. We have to agree on an issue before we make a choice to intervene. I will have to call a staff meeting and see if they will agree to a rescue mission.”
“Are you shitting me?” Myra spat. “You have to have a committee to save a bunch of heroin slaves?”
He fixed her with a hard stare. “Myra, you must understand how things work down here. It’s not the same as your human authorities. The angels tread a very thin line. We can intervene to save as many souls as possible, but we cannot risk inciting a war. Thousands will perish if we make the wrong choice. There are other ways to save them.”
“How?” she demanded.
“If we tip off the police, there is a chance that we can save those people without the demons retaliating against the city.”
I shook my head. “I think you know better. The cops move too slowly, and if Maurice has people that work for him there, they’ll just clear them out and find somewhere else to set up shop.”
“It’s not my first choice. I agree with you that we should take them out, but I am just one person. We must get the angels to agree as one.”
“How long with that take?”
Jon checked his watch. “The gallery closes at five. I will call a meeting afterward and we’ll vote tonight.”
“And if they say no?” Myra asked.
Jon exhaled through his nose. “We will have to find another way. Something more subtle than a siege.”
“This is ridiculous,” Myra snapped. “You’re holding these people’s lives in your hands and you have the power to save them, and yet you’ll do nothing if a few stuffy angels say no.”
“Myra, we have had this discussion before,” he said sharply. “Our mission is the salvation of all mankind. Any goal that contradicts it is strictly forbidden. If you wish to take issue with someone, then perhaps you should consult with the Almighty.”
She stepped in close, and with her heels on, they were the same height. Jon didn’t back down. Neither did she.
“Call Him up,” Myra whispered through clenched teeth. “I’ll cuss him and his Son out. I don’t give a shit about red tape. You told me that my job is to save people. I’m not going to sit on my ass and let those people die slowly under Maurice’s boot no matter what your buddies say.”
“Guys,” I said, gently pushing them apart. “Don’t slug it out until we’ve heard a verdict.”
She scowled and turned away, marching over to one of the portraits to cool off. I gestured towards her and Domingo nodded, going over to help soothe her temper.
“Is…” I struggled with his name. “…Gabriel going to be there?”
Jon shook his head. “No, he’s on mission elsewhere. I’ve been keeping him apprised, though.”
I smiled weakly. “Tell him I said hi.”
“I shall.” He watched me for another moment. “You are not what I expected, you know.”
“How so?”
“I’ve heard stories that you’re cold and ruthless. Not what I see.”
I crossed my arms beneath my chest. “Yeah? What do you see?”
“A battered warrior,” he said, his voice soft. “Someone who has grown tired of fighting, but won’t give up until the work is done. I see why the Commander fell in love with you. You lead only because there is no one else. I think you’re not meant for this life, but you choose it anyway to make sure no one else has to suffer…aside from you.”
I didn’t have a reply to that at first. It scared me a little that he could see all of that from such a brief interaction. I licked my lips and glanced away at the painting in front of me—beautiful brush strokes depicting brown, orange, yellow and red leaves. “How long do you think I can keep it up?”
He shrugged. “As long as you must. In that regard, I see why some angels are so bothered by you.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “You’re just like them.”
Myra and I grabbed supper next door at a diner and waited for the gallery to close, and that was an effort in itself. I wanted to sit the meeting out, but Myra argued against it. She thought I would be able to convince the angels to listen to reason, whereas I was pretty sure they wanted nothing to do with me right now. The Leviathan incident was too fresh on their minds. More than a thousand angels had given their lives that night to save the innocent people on the M.S. Midnatsol—a cruising ship that had been in the path of the Leviathan when it awoke. Angels were immortal and could be reborn in heaven, but death was death. That pain was beyond definition. No one deserved to die more than once, and yet angels died over and over for our sake. I didn’t want to face them knowing what I did, but she wouldn’t let me chicken out, so I stayed.
No one can say I’m not accommodating.
Jon opened the door for us after all the customers and clients had left the building for the evening. He did a quick scan of the area to ensure no demons would see us entering and then locked the door behind us. He walked us through the gallery to a room at the rear of the building. He opened the door. Myra and Domingo went through first. I hesitated, glancing at the back exit.
“Jordan,” Jon said gently. “Please.”
“Frickin’ angels,” I grumbled as guilt gnawed at my gut. “Why do you have to be so polite?”
I forced myself to walk through the door. I entered a long, narrow room with a polished oak table. There were ten chairs on either side as well as two at each end. There were thirteen angels sitting and drinking coffee provided by the expensive cappuccino maker on the table at the other end of the room. They glanced up with curious looks at Myra and Domingo. I fought to keep my face blank as I saw some of their eyes narrow when their gaze fell upon me.
“Thank you for coming,” Jon said, shutting the door. “I apologize for the short notice, but this is an emergency that requires our attention.”
He held out a hand towards Myra. “Most of you are aware, but allow me to officially introduce Mrs. Myra Bennett, a newly minted Seer. This is Mr. Domingo, a ghost who has been helping Mrs. Bennett with a…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “…a self-imposed assignment.”
Jon then cleared his throat and gestured towards me. “This is Ms. Jordan Amador, an experienced Seer. Mrs. Bennett requested Ms. Amador’s assistance with this assignment.”
Jon set his fingertips on the table and all pleasantness fled from his voice. “We have unfortunately experienced an egregious oversight with the demons’ nest at the Kiln. We already knew about the drug trafficking and the prostitution, but Mrs. Bennett, Ms. Amador, and Mr. Domingo discovered that they have been keeping innocent people in the basement of the Kiln. Fifteen lost souls are trapped down there right now with no way out.”
The angels’ expression sobered immediately. “I would like to put it to a vote that we help them rescue those people.”
Murmurs arose. Eventually, a brunette female angel spoke up. “Is there any conceivable way for us to intervene so that the demons don’t know it was us?”
Jon sighed. “I am not sure. Even if we mask our energy, if a fight were to break out, they would certainly notice.”
“What are the specs on the building?”
“One way in, one way out, hence why we’ve never tried to mount an assault.”
“What about if we tried to go when they weren’t there? What do you know about their security?”
Jon nodded to Domingo, who stepped forward. “From my overnight observations, the demons have watchmen that stay in the basement with the prisoners 24/7. They would have to be dealt with, but there is a security system in play. If anyone tries to enter the basement without the code, it’ll trigger a mine buried in the center of the floor that would level the entire place. As I understand it, it’s in case the police were able to infiltrate to find evidence.”
“Would it be possible to get the code?”
“Maybe. I’m not entirely sure. I think it changes nightly. The only ones I’ve seen access the basement have been Maurice and his second-in-command Dustin. They always lock up before closing the bar.”
More murmurs. A male angel spoke up next. “So if we hit them at night and saved those people, what are the chances they would know it was us?”
“If we can take the guards out without them seeing anything, it’s possible. They might assume the human authorities or their rival competition got wind of it. However, that’s still not the end of it. Even if we save those people, they will surely bring in more. That is why I wanted to call for a vote. It can’t be a half-measure. Either we do nothing or we destroy the entire nest. Once the demons are sent back to Hell, they will scatter and find somewhere else to go. Some might return for revenge, but most prefer self-preservation over retaliation.”
The male angel frowned. “You’re asking us to go to war, Jon. That’s exactly what we’ve been trying to prevent this entire time. We put out fires. We don’t raze the city to the ground.”
“What’s the point of putting out fires at all if you’re just going to pick and choose who you let burn to death?” Myra asked in a low voice.
He grimaced. “No one’s saying we do nothing, but we have to look at the big picture here.”
Myra snorted. “Boy, I’m getting real damn tired of hearing that from you people. Are you not the sword-swinging badasses who sent Lucifer and his goons packing a few million years ago? Since when does it take a Senate hearing to decide if you should rescue people being held against their will by a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters?”
“She’s right,” another female angel said. “We’ve been tiptoeing around the demons for too long anyway. We should take action and stomp them out. We can send out a request for backup if the demons try to retaliate.”
Some of the other angels nodded in agreement, but I saw a few shaking their heads. A hard-edged female voice spoke over the rabble.
“What does the Commander’s wife think about the situation?”
The sarcasm coated over “the Commander’s wife” was clear. I locked eyes with a green-eyed short-haired blonde towards the back of the table on the right side. And so it begins.
“This isn’t my decision,” I said with no heat, or any emotion at all, in my voice. “It’s yours. I’m only here as support for whatever you choose.”
The blonde snorted. “Well, that’s new.”
“What is?”
“You listening to your betters.”
Scalding heat rolled up my body one inch at a time. She was trying to bait me. I breathed in and out evenly and told myself to let it slide. “First time for everything.”
There, a joke. At least I made an attempt. She scowled, having expected an insult, maybe. “Just what was your role in all of this, Commander’s Wife?”
My stomach turned uncomfortably, but I forced the words out anyway. “I infiltrated the nest and retrieved information for Myra on how to bring them down.”
“So that’s the second time you admit to being in cahoots with our mortal enemies. Did you get a lot of experience working with Belial or does betrayal come to you naturally?”
Jon glared at her. “We are not here to be the judge and jury for this woman’s life, Bailey. Stop this antagonistic nonsense at once.”
“Bite me, Jon,” she snapped. “You’re asking us to work with someone who has a history of stabbing us in the back for her own gain. She could be in on it, for all you know. She could be leading us right into a trap.”
Myra stomped towards her. “Do you want to see a stabbing right now, you little—”
I caught her shoulder before she could make her way to the table. “Don’t. Let her blow off some steam. Not getting laid for all eternity tends to eat at you.”
Some of the other angels actually chuckled at that. Apparently, this female angel was a little unpopular among her peers. Bailey’s eyes narrowed to slits. She stood up this time and stalked over until we were inches apart.
“Really? Is that why you’re so calm and laidback, Commander’s Wife? Any chance that the valuable information you extracted was received while you were on your knees?”
My hands balled into fists at my side. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to punch that little button nose of hers right out the back of her skull. “Insult me if it makes you feel better. Doesn’t change the fact that you all have a choice to make. So make it and get the hell out of my face.”
“Is it hard to face the truth, Seer? To look us in the eye knowing that you royally screwed us all over for the archdemon Belial? You may be brave and capable, but you are not one of us. You never will be. Stop pretending to be the hero. Crawl back under that rock you came from and don’t ever show your face again, or I’ll stomp you like the cockroach you are.”
I smiled sharply at her. “Belial tried that. Look where it got him. And you aren’t half the warrior he is, bitch.”
She took a swing at me, but Jon grabbed her before the blow could land. “Enough! You’re benched, Bailey. Outside. Now.”
