Loving Angel (A Divisa Novel Book 4) (13 page)

“I was just wondering. I like to be well-informed,” I quickly added.

“If Hell did have a foothold here, then something would have triggered a switch in power. That doesn’t come without a price. A huge one. What you are talking about would be catastrophic. The keystone literally becomes the portal. All beings of Hell latch onto the keystone, stabilizing their true forms to sustain Earth. No one could withstand that amount of energy without it destroying them. Soul, heart, and body.”

My head exploded with a string of f-bombs. Throwing in the destruction of our three bonds was a jaw-dropping slap in the face. It made my heart stop. I shook my head before my body decided to go into cardiac arrest. The mere idea of not being linked to Angel was insanity.

I recovered quickly, funneling all my emotion from my eyes. Already, I had given away too much.

The chair creaked as he swung back and forth. “Out of curiosity, what is it like being fused to a human?”

More than happy to change the subject, I muttered. “Er, it’s challenging, but I think that’s more of an Angel-thing. Being linked to her changed me. She changed everything. The way I see things. How I live. The decisions I make. Now, I might take a few more seconds to think about my actions before I go gung-ho, and, for the first time, I take someone else into consideration.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I never thought it was possible. She calms your demon, doesn’t she? The beast is just as infatuated with her as the man.”

“Infatuated is a strong word,” I grumbled, resting my hands on my knees.

He fiddled with a pen on his desk, smiling. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

That’s where he was wrong. I knew damn well just how lucky I was, how fortunate I was to have found someone who loved me for me—all of me—which only reinforced how important it was that I find a solution. “What do I have to do to stop her from mutating?” I asked.

He titled his head, a perplexed expression on his oval face. “You can’t.”

My fist slammed down on his desk, rattling the wood and overturning a picture frame or two. “Bullshit.” I refused to believe that she couldn’t be saved. But it was more than just mutating DNA, because together we had managed to get her in the middle of a royal mess.

“I can see your sheer determination. As a man who has spent his whole life studying the unknown, I firmly believe anything is possible. If anyone is going to change the impossible, I am putting my money on you, Chase.”

“Thanks, I think,” I muttered. There was a compliment in there somewhere.

Chapter 16

I hightailed it back across west campus in a haze of numbness, unable to feel my feet hit the ground. In my head, it was like a hamster wheel, spinning and spinning, an annoying buzz that just wouldn’t quit. I suppressed the desire to take off and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other at turtle speeds.

Strutting through the front door to a house that still didn’t quite feel like home, I steered my jumbled mind toward the kitchen, specifically for a jumbo ham sandwich with mayo, mustard, and tomato. I made it not two steps when I was bulldozed. Blindsided, I was struck from behind, and if my taste buds hadn’t been salivating, I might have had my usually sharp wits about me. It was inconceivable for someone to get the jump on
me
.

Holy snikey.

The thing about always being attacked, your reaction time was stellar. Mine was superb. I had spent my whole life fighting to survive and waiting for the next demon just around the corner. I should have guessed that my assailant wasn’t a demon, but an unstable whack job, not that most demons weren’t out of their gourds. However, there was only one currently insane person living under my roof.

Emma “thorn-in-my-side” Deen.

Joy
.

I hit the floor, my shoulder slamming into the hard wood with the she-devil on top of me scratching, hissing, and biting. In general, being a complete pain in my ass, especially when I heard my shoulder pop.

Mid-air, I had turned, taking the brunt of the fall, but by doing so, I hadn’t been quick enough and my shoulder paid the price. There wasn’t time to think about the pain, not when she held nothing back, nor did I stop her. I deserved it and much, much more. In her shoes, I would have already plunged a knife through my heart.

Her fist connected with the side of my chin, and I groaned, the pain in my shoulder lancing through my arm. The impact from the little hunter was no joke. Emma was no joke. The weight of her hit was packed with deep hurt, betrayal, anger, and a bunch of other intense feelings.

If anyone else had laid a hand on me, they would’ve ended up in the hospital or a body bag. Everyone had a breaking point, and Emma had just reached beyond hers, but underneath all her hatred and anger was gut-retching sadness. It was that knowledge that kept me from retaliating, an ingrained instinct.

“I hate you!” she yelled, taking another swing at my face.

This time, I twisted my head to the side as her clenched fist sailed past my cheek. “Join the club,” I said, and for once I didn’t have the urge to kick her ass.

“You are despicable,” she spat, pounding a fist on my chest.

Did she expect me to argue?

I contemplated that thought for a whole two seconds when a gleaming ruby blade caught my eye. Emma had whipped it from behind her back, no surprise. Some girls slept with stuffed animals or their favorite blanket. Emma fell asleep with a blade clutched in both hands.

Dammit
.

The knife she held at my throat sizzled against my flesh, burning what was going to be a bitch of a mark. She gave me no choice. I drew the line at being sliced and diced. A few punches here and there—fine, but as soon as the knives came out, so did the demon. Anyway, she had gotten more than a few good shots at me.

A growl erupted between my teeth at the same time I bucked, dumping her on the floor. Flying to my feet, I hovered over her, reluctant to take my eyes off her. “I get that you’re upset, but let’s talk about this.”

Reddish-gold pieces of her hair had fallen messily out of her ponytail, frazzled and disarrayed. Emerald daggers glared up at me. “Let’s not and say we did.”

Cute and juvenile.
And neither of those things described Emma.

Succumbing was not an option. Things were about to get messy, and I couldn’t have been more thankful we were alone. Travis, Lexi, and Angel would have just complicated matters. It was best that Emma and I settle the score, just the two of us.

I gave a nonchalant one-shoulder shrug. “Have it your way.”

She lunged. I dodged. And so the dance went. It was one we were both familiar with and had done on many occasions. Never actually swinging, I blocked her swipes as they carved through the air. By the third jab, my hand whacked her forearm, causing her to lose her grip on the dagger. In sweet music to my ears, I heard the metal clatter to the ground.

But the loss of her dagger didn’t slow down the machine. Emma didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous, kind of like me, but without all the perks of being part demon.

When the struggle ended and I had her hands trapped behind her back, the fight vacated her body. In its place, the hurt finally surfaced. Sharp angles of her face tightened as she tried to keep a hold on her emotions. Those Irish green eyes fought back tears. Emma was one tough chick—I’d give her that.

“I guess this means you got your memories back,” I breathed, uncertain what my next move should be. If she started crying, I might book it. A total dick move, but tears made me want to skedaddle.

She sucked up a sniffle, pulling against my hold. “Damn right I did.”

I glanced down at my shirt, frowning. Tiny nicks covered the front. “Let me guess. You’re going to
try
to kill me, like old times.”

“Blah, blah, blah. I was thinking we could ditch the song and dance and get straight to the good stuff.”

A knot pulsed in my chest. “There’s more?” I asked sarcastically, tightening my grip on her arms.

She ground her teeth in frustration, both from the anger and the grief of wounds that had reopened with the return of her memories.

“How about we talk about this like two rational adults without anyone losing a limb?” I proposed.

“What is there to talk about? You killed my father.”

She had me there.

“Right.” I had nothing, but I could see that for someone who didn’t want to talk, she had a mouthful to say.

Yet her comeback was interrupted by the front door squeaking open. Emma strung together so many swear words that I was impressed. I added a few of my own when I saw who was standing in the doorway, gaping.

“What the hell is going on here?” Travis boomed.

“Chase?” Angel said.

Lexi stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot with a look that said I was in trouble, and the shitting thing was Emma started it.

“I know this looks bad, but there is a very good explanation why I have Emma pinned like a wrestler.”

Travis scowled. “Oh goodie. You have thirty seconds.”

“She remembers. Everything, okay.” That should give a new outlook to the otherwise uncomfortable situation.

Angel looked from me to Emma. “Do you want me to—?”

Emma had been surprisingly stagnant since our unexpected guests—well, until Angel had suggested she use her powers of persuasion. Then she started bucking like a bull on steroids. “Keep your Obi One Kenobi crap away from me, or so help me, I’ll cut off his balls,” she threatened.

Well, that sounds pleasant.

Everyone in the room knew I could finish Emma before she was able to snatch her blade and get anywhere near my family jewels.

“Chase, don’t,” Travis pleaded.

Déjà vu.

“I don’t need your help, Travis,” Emma snapped.

“Thank God I didn’t bring Colin over. This would have been awkward to explain,” Lexi mumbled.

I decided to make an executive decision and prayed it wouldn’t come back to ninja chop my junk. Letting go of Emma, I released her into Travis’s clutches. “She’s all yours, cuz,” I said.

Travis scrambled to keep a firm grip on the feisty package I had tossed his way. The situation wasn’t funny, but my lips twitched, unable to help it. The picture of Travis fighting to get the upper hand as Emma struggled to get free was priceless.

Emma flipped me off. “This isn’t over yet, Winters,” she snarled.

I looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since she’d pounced on me, and what I saw reflecting back in her eyes surprised me. I expected to see hate and disgust, the normal looks I got from her. There was definitely a glare of uncontained anger, but there was also so much confusion pooling in her bright eyes.

“It never is.” Intertwining my hand with Angel’s, I escorted her back outside, thinking it might be a good idea to give Travis and Emma some time to themselves. Better him than me. “I need air and you’re coming with me.”

Shockingly, Angel didn’t utter a peep. No complaint. No argument. “Do you think the house will still be standing?”

I gave a quick glance over my shoulder just in time to see Travis lift Emma off her feet. Lexi darted outside as Emma kicked the door shut, barely avoiding a massive splinter to the face. “Probably not,” I conceded. “Come on. Let’s go. I need food.”

“How can you think of food at a time like this?” she asked, our arms swinging with the wind.

“Easy. I’m starving, and I’m pretty sure my demon is starting to snack on my liver.” I
had
been rudely denied a meal by my most recent rendezvous with the little hunter.

There was a small sandwich café on campus, nothing fancy and within walking distance. Ideal when you were traveling on foot at human speeds. The bell over the door jingled as we walked in. Immediately, we were hit with the smell of freshly baked bread, making my taste buds drool. Angel gave the place a onceover.

The cashier behind the counter smiled friendly but cautiously at us as she waited for our order. Angel and I rattled off items from the menu and then proceeded down the aisle to wait for our food.

I carried our tray piled with sandwiches as we went on the hunt for a corner booth. Quiet and secluded, just the way I liked my life.

Who was I kidding?

The walls were covered with sports memorable—framed pictures, signed jerseys, and beer bottle cap art—a real classy joint. I slid the navy blue tray onto the tabletop, slipping into the cushiony booth. There was a huge tear on my side of the seat that rubbed against my ass, highly uncomfortable, but the temptation of food overruled. I dug in, taking a monster-sized bite that required some serious chomping.

Angel leaned across the table. “So, what did you find out?”

I unwrapped my second sandwich and replied, “That Emma is a psychopath.”

Angel’s eyes did a complete circle. “Chase,” she groaned. “That’s not what I meant. Your top-secret plan? Remember?”

Crap. With all the excitement and my rumbling belly, I’d completely forgotten about my visit with Professor Rivers. “Oh, right.” I put down the half-eaten sandwich and wiped the breadcrumbs from the side of my mouth. “I hate disappointing you, but nothing concrete. I’m still working out the kinks.”

She picked at her sandwich, pulling off tiny pieces and popping them into her mouth. “Translation. We don’t have jack.”

I arched my brow ever so slightly, smirking. “More or less.”

“So, we still have more questions than answers.”

“I guess that is one way to look at it.”

“We need answers. Real answers,” she said determinedly.

I couldn’t argue with that. “And we’ll get them.”

“When? Before it’s too late?” she gulped.

Her worries were justified, and that lit a fire inside me. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the stakes were this high.

I finished her uneaten turkey sub, and we headed out. Walking aimlessly, we rounded the castle-like building that was designated for history and followed along the sidewalk toward home in no real hurry.

Angel sipped on her to-go cup of Coke, ice sloshing together. “Okay, since your plan was a bust, it is only fair that I get a shot.”

I kicked a rock with the tip of my sneaker and watched it embed itself halfway through a tree trunk. “Sure. Have at it.”

“Promise you won’t get freaked out?”

“Well, now I’m freaked out.”

“Chase! What do you have to lose? It’s worth a shot.”

“Fine. I promise.” Seriously, what could she possibly do that I hadn’t already thought of? But I would humor her. It couldn’t hurt.

I was wrong.

Her methods were on a completely different spectrum—literally.