Shadow WIngs (Skeleton Key) (13 page)

Then he began exploring her cautiously with his hands. With the arm and hand wrapped around her, he massaged her back and neck and shoulder while he touched the rest of her with his other hand. He started with her face and throat and collarbones then slid his fingers down her side to her thigh, massaging her there slowly before he moved to the small of her back.
 

He leaned his body against hers as he exhaled in more relief. She closed her eyes when he didn’t stop, leaning against him in return.

Neither of them spoke.

She continued to stand there, silent, as he slid a hand down her arm, pulling it off him gently so he could caress her hand and fingers. She glanced up when he did, watching a complex expression tighten his face as he massaged her palm and wrist. She continued to watch his eyes as he traced the lines of her thumb and fingers. Heat emanated off him now, but she found she only wanted to press closer to him.

For a long-feeling handful of minutes, they just stood there together.

She didn’t let herself think about her motives––not for either of them.

THERE IS NO RELIGION IN THE MOTHERLAND

SHE MANAGED TO find him some socks and slippers that more or less fit, also left behind by Uri. The latter were more than a size too small for the taller Raguel, but they would serve until she could get him in the car and to an actual store.

She put off asking him the questions nagging at her, even now.

She put off asking even those questions that aligned with his crazy story.

Like what he intended to do if they found this key. Like how she would contact him if he disappeared once more, turning back into the angel he claimed to be.

Like how they would stop Golunsky from doing whatever he had planned if she couldn’t speak to Raguel in his angelic form. Well, assuming Golunsky actually
had
something planned, being in custody of the Moscow city militia.

There was no way Raguel’s crazy story
could
be true, of course, but she realized some part of her turned over the details of what he’d told her anyway.

But... and it was a very big but... if Raguel was telling the truth, where did that leave her?

If Golunsky really was a demon, as Raguel claimed, how did one arrest a demon?

How did one stop a dark plot by a demon?

From what Raguel told her, a demon could manipulate whole groups of people at one time, as well as individuals. It that were true, the demon could have ignited a conspiracy of some kind already. An apolitical conspiracy disguised as a political one.

The demon could be fanning flames within the Party, or even within certain branches of the government by playing on tensions that already existed.

Raguel was right––the conditions were there. Those fights were already happening.

The “window,” as Raguel called it, was open.

How could she possibly do anything about that?

She, Ilana, was not an angel. She could help Raguel look for where the demon might unfold his plans, but what could she do about it, even if they found it? Would she approach her superiors and tell them they could not react aggressively to a perceived security threat because they were very possibly being manipulated by a demon?

Angel or no, Raguel was not giving her much to work with.

All of this turned slowly in her mind as she stood with a friend of hers, a woman who ran a state shoe outlet with her husband at the
Kitai-gorod
GUM store facing Red Square. Her friend, Tasha, kept looking at her periodically and raising her eyebrows as she watched Raguel get his feet measured by her husband.

Ilana could tell Tasha was dying to ask about her mysterious friend, who she’d only briefly introduced to them both as a “work colleague.” In fact, calling that introduction brief might even be an understatement. She’d barely muttered his name before handing him over to Tasha’s husband to get him fitted for new shoes.

From the purse-lipped but humor-laden smile Tasha aimed at Raguel’s body and face, she had clearly noticed Ilana’s angelic friend was more than a little easy on the eyes.

When Ilana refused to answer her meaningful stares, Tasha stepped closer and nudged her sharply with an elbow.

“Well? Who is he? Who is your friend?”

“He’s helping me with a... a work issue.”

“Uh-huh. A
work
issue.” She smirked. “Isn’t that Uri’s sweater he’s wearing?”

Ilana felt her face warm. “It is.” She quirked an eyebrow at her friend. “Should I be disturbed that you noticed that, Tasha?”

But Tasha wasn’t to be distracted. “So this beautiful specimen of Russian maleness.... he had reason to change his clothing at your place? How intriguing.”

Ilana rolled her eyes, but felt her face heat more.

Folding her arms, she didn’t answer.

Tasha laughed. “What did you do to his shoes? Do I even want to know?”

Ilana saw Raguel glance up, as if he’d heard that last part.

“Shut up, Tasha.”

“He definitely likes you, Ilana,” Tasha whispered back. When Ilana gave her a warning look, Tasha only winked. “He looks at you a lot. He tries to do it carefully, very stealthy in his small glances, but Miss Tasha sees all. Including him staring at your ass when you took off your coat, Ilana dearest...”

Ilana flushed warmer still. “Can we discuss this thing later, Tasha?”

“Oh certainly, my friend. Certainly. We can discuss this ‘thing’ whenever you wish...”

Ilana scowled, but Tasha only flipped her long dark hair over one shoulder, laughing louder. Ilana couldn’t help noticing that Tasha looked as fashionable as always in a forest green jacket and skirt. Certainly better than Ilana herself did in her dusty black, two-year-old suit jacket and boots. Maybe she should take more advantage of the perks of her position.

At least buy herself some better clothes.

“Maybe you and your friend want to get drinks with us later?” Tasha prompted, still grinning at her. “I could ask him these questions myself? I find myself quite... stimulated... by the idea of interrogating him personally.”

Ilana snorted. “You are ridiculous, Tasha.”

“Come now, don’t be greedy. Grigor is curious too, I can tell.”

“I think we will be working,” Ilana muttered, still watching Raguel where he bent over the shoes with Tasha’s husband. “Perhaps another day.”

“I will take you up on that. I wish to hear all about this ‘work problem’ of yours that comrade handsome with the sex-eyes
insists
on helping you with personally...”

Ilana snorted again in spite of herself.

Again, Raguel glanced back at the two of them. That time, Tasha noticed his glance as well, but only laughed, rubbing her friend’s shoulder affectionately with one hand.

They’d found black leather dress shoes that fit Raguel by then. As soon as they’d settled accounts, Ilana found herself ushering him out the door as quickly as she could before Tasha could embarrass her for real. Raguel watched her hand over the rubles and then take the receipt from Tasha’s husband with a frown on his face, however.

As they walked out the door, he spoke to her in a low voice.

“I have no way to pay you, Ilana,” he said.

Shouldering on her coat, she waved this off, not bothering to answer.

He followed her in silence.

He didn’t try to speak to her again until they were outside the GUM store altogether. By then, they’d walked half of the long block back to where she’d left her used-to-be-gold
Zhiguli
parked on the snow-dusted street.

“Ilana.” He caught hold of her arm, right as she’d been reaching for the door handle to her driver’s side door. “We should talk about this.”

She exhaled, looking up at him. She felt her cheeks heat involuntarily when she saw that intense gaze of his focused on hers, worry etched in his frown.

“Do not trouble yourself about this, comrade,” she said, dismissive as she averted her gaze. “It is only shoes. You needed them. It is done.”

“But I’ll need to eat in this form, as well.” He spoke as if these things had only just occurred to him. “...I have no place to sleep. If I sleep outside, I will be even colder than I was this morning. I will also likely be arrested again.” He swallowed, tightening his hold on her arm. “I do not wish to sleep outside, Ilana.”

Ilana found herself staring out over the street, watching the traffic pass.

She hadn’t thought about any of these things consciously yet, but it occurred to her that she’d already made up her mind. She simply hadn’t admitted as much to herself, much less to him. Feeling herself flush warmer, she fought an inexplicable wave of irritation at him. It occurred to her that her irritation came from him forcing her to speak that assumption aloud.

“You will stay with me,” she said, not looking at him.

His fingers tightened on her arm. “You don’t mind?” He sounded openly relieved.

“No. I do not mind.”

“I am a criminal though,” he said.

She smiled at that. She couldn’t help it. Shaking her head, she exhaled some of that humor in a snort. “If you are what you say, then I should help you,
da?
As a fellow law enforcement officer, at the very least? And even if you are human now, will I not go to hell if I do not side with the Angels?”

He smiled, shaking his head in return.

“There is no religion in the Motherland,” he reminded her gravely.

She heard the faint humor in his words a second time, and rolled her eyes.

“Get in the car, comrade,” she said, smiling in spite of herself as she jerked open the driver’s side door. Before she could slide in however, he wrapped his arm around her again. That time, he lowered his head before she could react and kissed her on the mouth.

She got the sense it was impulsive, like before.

Or
compulsive
, perhaps.

Unplanned at the very least.

Maybe she was wrong, though. Maybe it was planned––maybe he’d thought about it beforehand––even back in her apartment when she started all this by staring at him when he was naked. Whatever he’d been thinking, when he raised his head briefly to look at her, all she saw in his eyes was surprise.

Then that look in his eyes darkened.

He kissed her again, harder that time.

That time, when she let him, he used his tongue.

As soon as she parted her lips, he pressed the length of his body against hers, pushing her into the car door and tightening his arm around her back. His hand wrapped into her hair when he kissed her a third time, and that time, he squeezed her even tighter against him. She found herself gasping by the end of that kiss, then she had her hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly, separating them before he could kiss her again.

“Hey,” she murmured. “We are working, yes?”

Breathing harder, he nodded, meeting her gaze. His eyes were slightly out of focus. “Yes,” he said, breathless. “I apologize. I was briefly... overcome.”

She laughed. “Overcome? Do I want to know by what?”

“Gratitude perhaps?” he said, giving her a faint smile. “I could say something else, but gratitude is probably more accurate.”

“So that was a thank you?” She found herself shaking her head, smiling up at him in spite of herself. “Because that was more enthusiastic than strictly necessary, comrade.”