“I won’t be in danger. I’ll go to work and come straight back. You don’t have to treat me like a child. I’ve managed to stay alive this long, haven’t I?”
He stared me down for a long moment before sighing and reaching into his pocket. “I am beginning to wonder if stubbornness is a specifically human trait.”
Michael smirked a little. “Nope, that’s just Jordan.”
“Hey, back off—!”
“Hush,” Gabriel said, growing impatient with our bickering. He held up a black rosary and three vials of what appeared to be water.
I stared at him in confusion as he handed them to me. “I’m not Catholic, you know.”
“I know, but these will protect you should a demon choose to attack. The cross hurts their skin and makes them vulnerable to injury. The holy water will as well. Carry these on your person every time you leave this apartment. I will be waiting for you when you return tomorrow. I have a few sources to check so I must depart for the night.”
He glanced at Michael. “I am relieved you’ve been found, brother. Watch over her until I return. Stay vigilant.”
“I will.”
With that, he left. Silence folded around us for a moment or two, then I filled it.
“Well, that wasn’t weird.”
“Tell me about it,” Michael said, slumping into the chair across from me. “This is so bizarre. I’m starting to remember who I was before this happened. I was so different from how I am now.”
“How so?”
He winced. “Well, for one I didn’t much care for humanity. I had spent so much time in Heaven that you all seemed like sheep to me: blind and dumb without guidance.”
“I can’t really fault you for that. We’re not very smart or good-natured at times. What can you remember about your life when you thought you were human?”
Michael tilted his head a little, trying to remember. It was sort of a cute look. I immediately brushed the thought away. “I spent the first year trying to build a life out of pretty much nothing. I didn’t know who I was or why no one knew me. One of the first things that got me back on track was music. I remember hearing an old man on a park bench play his guitar, so I decided to learn how to play. When I got good, I performed at local clubs until my band mates found me and we started the Throwaway Angels. Obvious symbolism aside, it was the most fun I’d had since the incident.”
He glanced at me with a sly smile. “Aside from meeting you, of course.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re an archangel. You’re not allowed to flirt with me anymore. Especially since I’m apparently a blind, dumb sheep girl.”
Michael pouted, watching me rise from the chair to go put away the holy objects Gabriel had given me. “You’re going to hold that over my head forever, aren’t you?”
“Yup. Now come on. I want to hear more stories.”
“You’re inviting me into your bedroom? What was it you said about flirting?”
“One more smart ass comment and I’ll have Gabriel ban you from my apartment.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter 7
By the time I rolled out of bed the next morning, I hated myself. Michael’s human and angelic life had been so interesting that I didn’t kick him out of my room until well into morning. I had a seven-hour shift today that started at eight AM sharp. Yippee-skippy.
Michael tried to give me a serious speech about being careful, but I assured him I would be fine and that he didn’t need to follow me there or back from work. I’d considered bringing the gun, but according to Gabriel, it wouldn’t help since demons couldn’t be eliminated by anything other than holy items. I wished I thought of asking him to bless the gun or the bullets before he left. Wondered if that would have worked. I decided to ask him when I got home.
The workday crawled by because my mind was so preoccupied with Michael and the Spear of Longinus. Something else nagged at the back of my mind, but it just wouldn’t come to me. Figures.
Finally, my shift ended and I headed onto the street with an unnatural awareness of everyone who passed by me. A dark-haired man. Right. Because that was extremely specific and helpful.
Something scampered past my ankles—too big to be some kind of rodent. I stumbled, staring down in shock as I recognized the sleek black fur and familiar gold eyes. Michael’s cat, Bast.
“Hey, you,” I cooed, stooping to reach for her. “How the hell’d you get out of the apartment? You’d better come with me.”
As if understanding my words, the cat mewled in protest and scampered down the alleyway to my left. Groaning, I broke into a jog and tried to catch up. The cat darted around a corner to the right and I followed, calling after it.
“Oh, c’mon! My place’s not that bad!”
I rounded the corner, hopped over a few trashcans, and squeezed my way past a large dumpster. No sign of the cat. I went to the alley on my right, bending down to look behind the trashcans at the dead end.
“Bast? Where’d you go?”