The Kiss of Angels (Divine Vampires Book 2) (14 page)

“He can’t see you,” Jari insisted, as they passed through the front door of the little house.  She shouldn’t have been surprised that it was the same house that had belonged to Jack and Lucy so many years ago.  She wondered if everything else was the same too.  The bed? Was it the same bed? “He can’t hear you either.  I tried.”

“He’ll see me.” Muriel floated down the hallway, glancing into the bathroom.  It was the same black and white tile, the same claw-foot tub.  He hadn’t changed a thing. 

The bedroom was empty, but it was the same headboard.  There was a flat-screen television on the dresser though, in front of the mirror.  That hadn’t been there before. 

“Where is he?” Muriel was shaking.  Part of it was cold—now she knew one of the reasons the Fey Advisory Board had sent her to a warmer climate.  After her time as a human, she was far more sensitive to temperature than she’d ever been before.  But part of it was just emotion.  The thought of seeing him, being with him again, was making her knees weak. 

“I don’t know.” Jari shrugged, glancing around the room.  “He lives here.  He has to come back eventually.”

“I guess we’ll wait.” Muriel sat down on the bed, running her hand over the mattress. 

The memory came back in flashes, like lightning.  The sweet press of his lips.  The heat in his eyes.  The rough, urgent roam of his hands. 

Come home, Char, come home. 

“I have to go on a call soon.” Jari stood nervously in the doorway, shifting her weight.  “Muriel, I’m not sure we’re safe here.  Especially if he really can see you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Muriel wasn’t about to listen to more of Jari’s claims that fallen angels were monsters who drank human blood.  “He won’t hurt me.”

“I’m telling you, he’s changed,” Jari insisted.  “He’s not like he was.  Come here, let me show you.”

Muriel sighed but she followed Jari down the hall, into the kitchen.  It was a different refrigerator, more modern, with an icemaker in the door.  The memory of the old one, standing in front of it eating Chinese food out of a carton, laughing with Char, filled her with warmth. 

“Look.” Jari opened the refrigerator, pointing to the only thing in it—a glass pitcher full of liquid so dark it looked almost black.  “That’s what he eats.”

She leaned in closer, grabbing the pitcher by the handle and tilting it slightly.  The liquid sloshed up on the sides, leaving a shocking, dark red on the glass. 

“Sure, and I bet they eat babies and sacrifice goats, too,” Muriel retorted with a roll of her eyes, shutting the fridge.  But the memory of that thick, red liquid, and the smell—copper and bright—stayed with her.

“I’m telling you, he hasn’t aged at all.” Jari sat at the kitchen table.  “He’s immortal still, but he’s become something else.  Something… awful.”

“What are you saying?” Muriel frowned at her ex-partner, trying to make sense of her words.  She hadn’t been ready to listen, not until she was faced with the reality of a full pitcher of what looked, and smelled, like blood in the refrigerator.  Char would still be Char, no matter what
The Maker
had done to him.  “You’re not talking about a fallen angel.  What you’re describing is… a… a…”

She couldn’t even say the word, it was so ridiculous. 

“A vampire.” Jari said it for her. 

“He’s not a vampire,” Muriel insisted, shaking her head in denial. 

That’s when she saw him, in the shadows.  Not him, not fully, just his eyes.  The gold rimmed circle of his eyes.  Her whole body knew it was him in an instant.  She felt the recognition sing through her limbs, and the first thing she wanted to do was run to him.  She had to grip the edge of the countertop to keep from doing it. 

“Yes, he is.” It wasn’t Char’s voice.  Nor was it Jack’s body—why she’d expected that, she didn’t know.  Maybe just because it was her only physical memory of him, as a human.  He was different, taller, his hair long, shoulder-length, unkempt.  And thin.  Too thin. 

But Jari was right, and Muriel knew it in an instant.  He wasn’t human.  And he wasn’t an angel either. 

“He can see you?” Jari swallowed, glancing back. 

“I can see you too, Jari,” he said softly but he didn’t look down at her.  “I thought if I ignored you enough, you’d go away.  Little pest.  Now you’ve come back, and you’ve brought trouble with you.”

“Char…” Muriel took a step toward him, her whole body trembling. 

“Muriel, I think we should go…” Jari stood, the chair scraping across the linoleum. 

But she wasn’t looking at Jari.  She was looking at him.  And he was looking at her, with such a hunger in his eyes it almost scared her. 

“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Jari screamed when he flew past her, taking Muriel into his arms and lowering his mouth to her throat. 

Muriel surrendered to him instantly, collapsing in his arms.  The scruff of his cheek against her neck thrilled her, even without flesh to tickle.  He buried his hands in her wings, holding her so tight she thought she might snap in half, and she didn’t even care. 

“You’ve made a horrible mistake coming here,” he whispered.  “I don’t want you to see me like this.  My Muriel, my beautiful Muriel.”

“Is it true?” she asked, feeling wetness on her cheeks, realizing that, for the first time in almost a century, she had tears falling down her face.  “Have you fallen?”

He nodded, letting out a pained, anguished cry. 

“Are you… do you drink human blood?” she whispered, shivering at the thought, but he didn’t need to answer her. 

When he pulled back to look at her, she saw her answer in the form of tears on his cheeks.  They traveled in dark, red rivulets down his face. 

“Oh my love.” Her hands trembled as she wiped them away.  When she looked down at the blood on her fingers, she didn’t feel horror.  Only sadness.  “What have they done to you?”

“I did this.” He shook his head sadly.  “I did this to myself.  I defied
The Maker
.  I knew the consequences.”

“You knew…” She stared at him, incredulous.  “You knew this would happen?”

“It was worth every moment I spent in your arms.” The smile that touched his lips was fleeting.  “I’d do it all over again, if I could.”

Muriel nodded, choking out the words, “So would I.”

“You’re both insane.” Jari threw up her hands.  “Muriel, we really should go.”

“No, Jari.” She didn’t look at her ex-partner.  “You brought me here.  Now I’m staying.”

“Muriel…” Char shook his head sadly.  “You can’t.  You’re not this.  You’ll never be what I am, if I can help it.  You don’t want to be what I am.”

“Yes,” she whispered, going up on her tiptoes to kiss his bloody cheek.  “I do.”

“No way.” Jari gasped, jumping to her feet.  “Chariel, don’t you dare let her!”

“I won’t.” He pulled Muriel into another close embrace, and she smiled to herself as he tucked her head under his chin.  A perfect fit, even now.  The last time they’d been this way, she’d heard the steady beat of his heart, but now there was nothing.  But it didn’t bother her.  She’d been with him when he was celestial, when there was no heart beating beneath his tumescent torso, and she’d loved him just as much then as she did right now. 

“You need to go.” He pushed her away from him, holding her at arm’s length.  “Go home, Muriel.  Let me suffer this for both of us.  It’s my only consolation, knowing you’re still my sweet, beautiful Muriel.  That you still have your light—your wings.”

He flashed her a small smile and she glimpsed him again, the seraphim she had fallen in love with.  The seraphim she still loved.  Maybe his form had changed, but he had not.  She would know him in any form, and love him still. 

“I want to stay with you.”

Jari groaned at Muriel’s words.  “I knew this was a bad idea…”

“A very bad idea,” Char snapped, glaring at Jari before turning his attention back to Muriel.  “You can still go back. 
The Maker
will forgive you your trespasses.  I made sure of that.”

“What do you mean?” She blinked up at him, cocking her head.  “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Jari looked between them both in surprise.  “Oh… she wasn’t at your hearing.  I guess she wouldn’t know…”

“Know what?” Muriel demanded, impatient.  “Stop talking in circles.  Both of you.  I’m not a child.”

“Jari…” Char shot her a warning look.  “Take Muriel home now.”

“No!” Muriel struggled in his hold as Char started propelling her to the door, Jari following close behind.  “What didn’t he tell me? What don’t I know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jari apologized as they neared the exit.  “I didn’t think—”

“You can say that again,” Char growled. 

“I’m not leaving you!” Muriel protested, putting her arms around his neck, clinging to him.  “I’m not leaving you again! Ever! Do you hear me?”

“Stop it.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard.  “I don’t want you here.  Go home, Muriel.”

“You’re lying,” she whispered, but his words were like arrows, piercing her core. 

“I’m not who… what… you loved…” he managed to choke out.  “I will never be that again.”

“Because of me.” She looked at Jari, and then at Char, seeing the truth in their eyes.  “You sacrificed yourself for me.  Jari said
The Maker
was lenient on me… why? What did you give them?”

Char shook his head, turning his face away.  The pain in his eyes broke her completely.  How could she have believed that he was still living a celestial life, walking the world as a seraphim, when in fact he’d been turned into something horrible, banished, suffering for eternity. 

“Tell me!” Muriel cried.  “What did you give them?”

“Take her.” Char shoved Muriel at Jari, hard, and she stumbled, blinking at him in shock.  “Leave me.”

“You don’t mean it.” Muriel’s voice shook with emotion.  “I know you still love me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He refused to look at her.  “Go.”

“Come on,” Jari said softly, taking Muriel’s arm. 

“What did he give them, Jari?” Muriel’s voice failed her.  She sounded small, like a child.  “What did he give them?”

“His soul!” Jari snapped, her eyes blazing.  She’d forgotten how fast Jari went from simmer to boil.  “He’s damned, Muriel! He’s damned
for all eternity!
”

Muriel turned to look at him, her lover, the seraphim she’d fallen for once, and now, forever.  She already felt it, even before she said the words, an empty, cold feeling in the center of her being, where she remembered a heart beating for a few brief, fleeting, joyous hours. 

“Then I’ll be damned too,” Muriel whispered. 

“Muriel!” he cried, wailing.  “Nooooooooooooo!”

“I renounce
The Maker
!” She reached around Jari’s back and grabbed a handful of her arrows.  Not just one or two, but an entire handful, screaming the words as loud as she possibly could, hoping that everyone in the universe, human or celestial, heard them.  “I will be forsaken!”

He couldn’t reach her in time.

She drove all of them, as deeply as she could, into her center. 

And fell, into darkness. 

“Is she there?”

Muriel thought she heard him and struggled to reply. 
Char, I’m here.  I’m here. 
But words failed her.  She didn’t have a voice.  A hunger clawed up her throat.  She tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t go. 

“Zeph, please!”

“Shhh!”

The memory came from the darkness.  It was her only light.  He had kissed her, and they had fallen.  There was softness, a cloud, warmth.  The sweetness of human contact, his flesh pressed to hers. 

It was him, but not him.  She was herself, but someone else too. 

Kiss me. 

Kiss me one last time.

Kiss me goodbye. 

His lips touched hers, not warm as she expected, but cold. 

She opened her eyes, and saw only red. 

“Muriel.”

That’s me.  That’s my name. 

But she wasn’t Muriel anymore.  She wasn’t anything or anyone. 

All she knew was hunger. 

And there was food nearby.  She could smell red, thick and pulsing, a heartbeat she would crave until the end of days, with a hunger that knew no limits. 

“Muriel, no!”

She went after her meal like a shot, but someone grabbed her and pulled her back, whirling her around, away from the source of food. 

And then she saw him. 

“Muriel.  Oh sweet, Muriel.”

She knew Char’s voice, his touch.  She would know it if she was dead.  Maybe she was.  He cradled and rocked her and for a moment, the hunger ebbed and she remembered.  It came back to her in a flood, a tidal wave.  This was her choice. 

He was her choice. 

“What did you kiss her for?” Char snapped as Zeph came back into the room.  He had locked away the food and Muriel glared at him, sorely disappointed.  “She’s not sleeping fucking beauty!”

“How long has she been in love with you?” Zeph asked.  Muriel remembered him, too, but much of that was vague, fuzzy.  Had he kissed her?

“Fuck, Zeph, it’s not my damned fault,” Char snapped.  He stood, gathering her close.  “Why did you kiss her?”

“I didn’t do it for kicks!” Zeph snapped back.  “Listen, in her mind, she thought I was you.  It… it was all I could do to bring her fully here.”

“Don’t!” Muriel croaked, speaking for the first time.  Her voice was like gravel.  “Don’t you dare tell him!”

“Tell me what?” Char asked, looking between the two of them, confused. 

“Take her home, Char.” Zeph sighed.  “Feed her.  Talk to her.  Maybe she’ll tell you what happened.  She knows.  She remembers.”

“Goddamnit, tell me!” Char insisted.

“It’s not for me to tell.” Zeph pointed toward the door.  “Go home.  Both of you, go home.”

Outside, snow fell.  Muriel turned her face up to it, to him. 

“Where were you?” Char whispered, stopping to pull her close.  “You stabbed yourself with those godforsaken arrows and then…”