Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers)

Chapter 7



So much had happened tonight, it was hard to believe it was only a little after nine o’clock when we finally arrived at the small bungalow I shared with my mother.

Home sweet home. I had to say, just the sight of the familiar house helped calm my nerves. Even considering who was with me.

I’d lived here all my life. Until a couple years ago, it was me, my mother and my father. Since the separation, it was just me and Mom. My father lived in England now. I only saw him rarely. Even the emails had started to come with less frequency than they used to.

It would make me sad if I let myself think about it too much.

“Here we are,” I said, stopping at the end of the driveway. My mother’s car was here. I guess she wasn’t working late tonight. Miracles happen.

Cassandra had been very quiet the rest of the way here, as if lost in her thoughts. Her expression revealed nothing about how she felt about having her back broken by a gray...and now voluntarily sharing a house with another one.

In the silence, I’d found it impossible not to think about that gray’s victim. One moment swept away by a kiss from a sexy stranger, the next feeling your life fading away to nothing. A kiss of death.

She didn’t have a chance.

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat and tried to focus on something else, anything else. I’d decided to tell my mother that Cassandra was one of my friends from school. That her parents were gone for a few days, and she was afraid to be alone.

Not perfect, but it would do. My mother would believe it. She believed a lot of things without asking too many questions.

I let Cassandra into the house, eyeing her warily as she brushed past me. She studied everything her gaze landed on as if assessing it for a future report. The bamboo blind at the window, the colorful rug by the front door. The framed photos on the walls, which no longer included my father.

My mother pretended not to dwell on the divorce, but I knew it hadn’t been her decision. My father hadn’t moved across the ocean just to work at the London branch of his law firm...he’d moved there to be with a beautiful blonde British intern half his age. He almost never emailed anymore and I couldn’t remember the last time we talked on the phone.

I tried to follow Mom’s lead and not dwell on things like that. But it made me understand my mother’s angst.

The sight of empty wine bottles lined up to go into the recycling bin made me wince. Cassandra didn’t seem to notice, but I did. There were way more this week than usual. And there were usually too many.

I wasn’t the only one in the family with a growing addiction to something unhealthy.

“Sam, I’m glad you’re home,” my mother greeted me warmly as we entered the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see that she held a large glass of white wine. On her lap was a stack of papers she was going through. She was a real-estate agent, a job she was good at and put long hours into, seven days a week. I used to complain—to myself, to her, to anyone who’d listen—about how obsessed she was with the job and making money and how she had no time for me.

Since I’d learned I was adopted, she’d tried very hard to mend our shaky relationship by making sure we spent a little time together every day. She assured me that she was a great listener if I had any problems, and that she was here for me, no matter what. And yet, there were more wine bottles by the door than usual.

Stress showed itself in different ways.

I was on edge, but knew I had to hold it together. This was the one place I could still feel like myself. Home was my touchstone for being normal.

And now there was an angel here—one who’d never even been human before. There was nothing normal about that. My mother’s gaze moved to her as she entered the room.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, clearing my throat. “This is Cassandra. She’s a friend of mine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Cassandra. Call me Eleanor.” My mother got up from her chair and came over to shake Cassandra’s hand. There was a genuine smile on her face. “I’m so glad Sam’s hanging out with new friends. After what happened with Carly, I know the past week’s been rough.”

My eyes started to sting immediately at the mention of my best friend. Mom was one of the people who believed in the “running away with a boyfriend” story. Most brushed it off as the act of a rebellious teenager. But Mom has seen me cry over this and she knew I was taking Carly’s absence hard. She thought I saw it as a betrayal of our friendship.

She was wrong. It was a tragedy.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Cassandra said. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you.”

Well, weren’t we all pleasant and polite?

“I, um, need to ask a favor...” I began, ready to launch into my cover story. But Cassandra took over for me before I said another word. She still held my mother’s hand and she looked deep into her eyes.

“I’m going to be staying here with you and Samantha for a little while, Eleanor,” she said smoothly. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with. Do you understand?”

My mother nodded slowly. “I understand.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Cassandra was using angelic influence to mess with my mother’s mind. Zach and Connor could do the same thing, but only in emergencies.

“Are you girls hungry?” my mother asked, taking a quick sip of her wine. “I got home late and haven’t had dinner yet. I mean, I know Sam’s hungry. She’s always hungry lately. I’m shocked she’s remained so skinny with the way she eats.”

This just got better and better.

“Yes.” The angel put a hand on her stomach and cocked her head as if trying to sense her bodily needs. “I believe I am hungry.”

“I’ll order some Chinese delivery.”

“Delightful.” Cassandra took a seat in a La-Z-Boy recliner and leaned forward to flip absently through today’s paper. “Eleanor, you say that Samantha is hungry lately. What does she eat?”

I tensed at the question, and the meaning behind it. Just because she’d also given me a pass as a gray didn’t mean that she was finished investigating me. I learned over. “Not what you might be thinking.”

No souls, thank you. Well, except for Colin’s earlier. And Bishop’s last week.

I could try to convince myself that they didn’t really count. I hadn’t hurt them—it had only been tiny nibbles. But it was still wrong.

However, compared to the murderous gray we’d been faced with tonight...

The thought of the glazed eyes of the dead girl with the black lines around her mouth made my blood run cold.

“You name it, she eats it.” My mother fought against her grin, but lost. “I can barely keep the fridge stocked anymore.”

I gave her a look. “You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.”

“Better keep a lid on it if you can. I might need to save my grocery money to pay for other necessities.” Since she was still grinning, I assumed she was trying to be funny. She shouldn’t give up her day job to become a comedian. “I’m having trouble selling a house I thought would go quickly. It’s on the east side right near the city line. Huge piece of property that’s been abandoned for months. Worth two million.”

“What’s the problem with it?” I asked absently.

Cassandra continued to scan the newspaper, and then picked up the TV Guide to flip through it as if fascinated. If she’d never left Heaven before I suppose all of this was new to her.

“There’s a rumor circulating that it’s haunted.” She pulled her cell phone from her Coach bag. “Which is ridiculous. It seems perfectly normal to me.”

“No mournful moans or rattling of chains?”

“Nothing. Although, with it being Halloween in a few days, you’d think that might be a selling feature.” She laughed at this, then left the room to call the Chinese restaurant.

Ghosts in abandoned houses. I wondered if that was even possible—if ghosts really existed.

Not my problem. I had enough to worry about without adding to the list.

When the food arrived, and the house began smelling like Chinese food—which was, in a word, divine—Cassandra had a big grin on her face.

“My first meal here,” she told me. “It’s incredible.”

My mother gave her a strange look. “You kids and your diets.”

Cassandra scanned the dishes as I piled a plate for myself high with food. “What is that? A ball of chicken? Ingenious!”

Later, Cassandra gleefully experienced an hour of television, while I could barely sit still. I wasn’t sure what I should do right now, but I felt like sitting here doing nothing was an incredible waste of time. That gray tonight reminded me how much trouble I was in.

I wouldn’t become like that. I wouldn’t lose my mind again like I had with Colin. I wouldn’t hurt anybody.

I had this under control.

Stephen was still somewhere in this city. I would find him. And he would damn well give me back my soul before it was too late. My future was still bright and sparkly.

Well, maybe not sparkly. But definitely bright.

When it was time for bed, my mother showed Cassandra the upstairs guest room where she’d be staying.

“Thank you, it’s perfect,” Cassandra said, putting a hand on her arm. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about this all night, Eleanor. I’d like you to do something for me.”

“What?”

She gazed into my mother’s eyes. “I think you should go on vacation somewhere really nice. You can leave tomorrow morning. Any work you have can wait until you get back. Do you understand?”

I gaped at her, stunned silent that she was using angelic influence on my mother again.

“Yes, I understand.” My mother nodded. “My goodness, a vacation. What a wonderful idea! It’s been so long—I don’t think I can even remember the last vacation I took. I think it was Florida, four years ago. Remember that, Sam?”

“I...uh, remember. But...are you sure this is a good idea? A vacation right now?”

“No, it’s not a good idea.” She stroked her honey-blond hair back from her face. Her eyes sparkled. “It’s a great idea! I’m going to Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ll take a surfing lesson...and lie on the beach and read a book. Thank you, Cassandra. Such a wonderful suggestion. Will you be all right here without me?”

Cassandra nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to go pack!” My mother kissed me on my cheek, then hurried off in the direction of her bedroom. I waited for her door to close before I spun around to face the angel.

“Just who do you think you are?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“You think you can just influence people to do whatever you want them to do? Like it’s nothing?” Every decision that had been made, taken out of my hands, forced upon me—this was the final straw. I wasn’t just going to smile and nod and try to be easy to get along with so nobody saw me as a threat. This was totally unacceptable.

She looked at me as if confused by my reaction. “It’s better this way. Having her here puts her in danger. You must realize that, don’t you?”

Of course I realized that. I wasn’t stupid. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just...not cool,” I sputtered. “You’re new around here—a guest! And this is my house...and my mother! You don’t get to make the rules!” I turned away and went to my room, slamming the door behind me.

Immediately, I felt like a petulant child who’d just thrown a temper tantrum. But I couldn’t help it. I tried to be on my best behavior and fit in, to not make any trouble, even when my life was falling apart. But she’d pushed me too far.

Cassandra had succeeded in making me feel utterly powerless. And that, in turn, made me realize I had no control over anything in my life.

I sank to the floor next to my bed and pulled my knees close to my chest. The three full plates of Chinese food I’d eaten sat heavily in my stomach, threatening to come back up.

Cassandra pushed open my bedroom door a couple minutes later. It wasn’t a big surprise that she didn’t knock first.

I looked up at her, guarded. “What do you want now?”

She pressed her hand against the door frame and looked awkward about coming all the way into my room. Again, her assessing gaze swept over my furniture, my vanity, my discarded clothes that hadn’t hit the hamper. I might get straight As, but I wasn’t what anyone would describe as the neatest person in the world.

“It’s been a difficult evening,” she said. “For you, for me. For all of us. I also sensed a dynamic between you and the other members of the team that perhaps I’ve disrupted in some way.”

I stared up at her, trying to process the strange way she spoke. “You’re a bit of a Vulcan, aren’t you?”

She looked confused. “A...what?”

“A Vulcan. It’s a Star Trek thing. Emotionless aliens who like to talk very proper.”

Her frown deepened. “I’m not an alien. I’m an angel.”

I sighed. “An angel who’s never had a chicken ball before.”

“Which was delicious. And the red dippable goo they came with?” She beamed. “Amazing.”

“If you say so.”

She came all the way into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. She looked at me very seriously. “I know you don’t like me.”

“I never said that.” Not in front of her, anyway.

Her shoulders sank. “That gray this evening. He hurt me...and he hurt you. I thought I could handle it, but he defeated me easily. Too easily.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Grays aren’t normally like that. He was a total freak of nature.” One that scared the hell out of me, to say the least. I was glad he was dead and he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

“That demon had to save me.” She shuddered. “And he said I have a nice ass. How crude.”

“That’s Roth.”

“Is he...” Her brows drew together “...as horrible as he seems?”

I was about to agree with that statement wholeheartedly, but then I thought about it. “I don’t know. Demons are supposed to be evil and horrible. I don’t like him. He’s a jerk, but he’s part of the team. He’s doing his thing. And he did save your butt.” I thought about what little I knew about Kraven. “Demons who’ve been humans before...they have stories behind them. They’re not a hundred percent bad. At least, I don’t think they are. I mean, I guess they did some really bad stuff when they were alive in order to become a demon. Right?”

“I’m sure they did.”

I remembered Zach’s story about the good deed with the drowning kid, and that giving him the chance to become an angel. I figured it would be the exact opposite—a bad deed—to become a demon. “It’s bizarre, really. Because, as far as I’m concerned, demons should be totally evil to the core.”

That was one of the things that freaked me out the most. How you couldn’t tell who was a demon and who was an angel. How similar they looked. Only their imprints confirmed what they really were.

“In the beginning,” I continued, “I assumed Bishop was a demon by the way he handled that dagger of his.”

“Yes, he does have a way with the Hallowed Blade.”

My ears perked up at this name. She’d called it that before. “Is that what it’s called?”

She nodded gravely. “All angels of death are assigned one.”

I blinked. “Angel of...what?”

She glanced down at me sprawled on the floor. “Angel of death. Bishop is one of Heaven’s assassins, which is why he’s one of the few officially authorized to carry such a dangerous blade.”

“Oh.” I could barely find my voice.

“Didn’t you know this about him?”

“No. It—it hadn’t come up.” It was a whisper. I couldn’t manage much more than that. A piece of information like this was enough to knock the breath right out of me.

“That’s why he was chosen to lead this mission. His record shows that he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to—”

“Killing,” I finished for her, feeling sick inside. “The ritual...and dealing with the grays...”

She nodded. “If his departure hadn’t been tampered with, I have no doubt that the grays would all be...” She trailed off and looked at me sheepishly. “Of course, I’m sure an exception would still be made for those who don’t feed and whose souls still exist intact. Somewhere. He wouldn’t have just killed you indiscriminately just because you’re, well...one of them.”

I swallowed hard. “I hope you’re right.”

Bishop’s mission here in Trinity required someone with the right instincts. No hesitation. It had always made my blood turn to ice, seeing him at work. That determined, emotionless expression that came over his face just before the blade met its mark.

I’d known Bishop was dangerous, but...an actual angel of death?

Holy hell.

“I should rest.” Cassandra stood up and moved toward the door. “Tomorrow I need to get a fresh start.”

“Cassandra...” I said, my voice still barely audible. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. What?”

I took a deep breath and looked right at her. “What’s the real reason you were sent here?”

A shaky smile formed on her lips. “I’m here to lend a hand to the team during this difficult mission. Why else? Good night, Samantha.”

“Good night.”

She left, but not before I’d managed to get a small glimpse of her thoughts. It was another one of my newly uncovered talents. I could read a demon or angel’s mind...if they weren’t actively trying to block me. All I had to do was look into their eyes and concentrate hard.

Cassandra lied. She wasn’t here just to help the team. She had her own mission, an entirely separate one.

I really wished I knew what it was.

* * *

It took me hours before I finally drifted off to sleep. My head was a horrific mass of nightmares about evil grays and dead girls, before they finally parted for something much more pleasant.

A dream about Bishop.

He was seated across from me at a small wooden table in the middle of a wasteland—a cracked, dry desert that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was nothing in sight to the horizons all around us. The sky was a flat, pale gray, like a coating of paint.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Good question.” He wore black. Black jeans, black T-shirt. The darkness only made the color of his eyes stand out more—like sapphires.

What Cassandra had told me about his job in Heaven was so far in the distance now I couldn’t remember the details. I knew it had disturbed me, but at the moment it was the last thing on my mind. All I felt was happy. Happy to see him. Happy we were alone—no matter where this was. “I’m dreaming right now, aren’t I?”

“You are.” He smiled—an easy smile that made my heart do an automatic flip.

“So this isn’t real? Not some sort of mind meld?”

“No. Just a dream. Your dream.”

I looked down at myself to see I wore a fancy red dress, gauzy and big and silky, like a ball gown. I’d never worn anything so extravagant in my entire life.

“You’re beautiful,” Bishop said.

My gaze snapped to his. “It’s just the dress. It’s not me.”

“You’re wrong. It is you.” There was something in his eyes that made me believe he meant it. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“You can kiss me here.” If this was just a dream, then nothing I said or did counted. I liked the idea of that—total freedom. “Normally in my dreams...we do more than just kiss.”

His brows went up. “Really.”

I nodded, fighting a smile.

“You want to do more than just kiss me, Samantha?”

“Maybe I do.” My heart pounded. The endless bravery I normally had in my dreams seemed to be escaping like sand sliding through my fingers. “But there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“There’s a severe balance of power missing in this...whatever this is between us. I know hardly anything about you. You know everything about me. I have no power over you at all.”

“Wrong. You took part of my soul. You know I’m drawn to you like nothing I can control, which is why I’ve tried—and failed—to stay away. Even when I do keep my distance you can still see through my eyes whenever you want to.”

This was another little skill I had. After I’d kissed Bishop and taken part of his soul, there were the odd times I got flashes of what he saw—even if we were nowhere close to each other. I couldn’t read his mind or feel his emotions, but I could see through his eyes.

“It’s not whenever I want to,” I said. “It’s totally random.”

“You underestimate yourself. Your power. But I’m not surprised. This game has barely begun.”

“Game?” I frowned. But then my gaze moved to the table between us. I hadn’t even noticed what was on it before. It was a chess board with white and black pieces. “Are we playing a game?”

“We seem to be.”

The pieces were already in play, not all lined up at the edges. Bishop was playing the white pieces, and I was playing the black ones. He’d already taken one of my pawns. “But I don’t even know how to play chess.”

“Then you need to learn. And you need to learn fast.”

The next moment, he stood up and swept the board off the table. The pieces went flying in every direction.

I got to my feet, alarmed. “Bishop, what are you—?”

He didn’t let me finish my sentence. He grabbed the front of my dress and pulled me toward him, crushing his mouth against mine.

My thoughts fell away as he kissed me—and I kissed him back. Now this was more like my normal dreams about Bishop. Passionate, reckless, total abandon. Incredible.

No hunger to ruin the moment. No ravenous need to devour his soul.

Just his lips against mine with no consequences. No punishment. Only pleasure.

When our lips finally parted and I opened my eyes, there was a coldness in his gaze that betrayed the scorching heat of the kiss.

Cold as ice. It was the look he normally got just before he—

I gasped as he sliced the dagger into my chest. I scrambled back from him, collapsing to the ground. Grasping for the hilt, I pulled it out with a pained cry. My blood was difficult to see against the red dress, but it flowed, pulsing out with every beat of my heart.

I gasped for breath. “I trusted you.”

“No, you didn’t.” He stared down at me sprawled on the cracked, dry ground. His dark brows were drawn tightly together. “You never did.”

I fell all the way backward, struggling to keep breathing. All I could manage was a small shriek when Cassandra appeared behind Bishop. He didn’t see her.

He didn’t see the golden dagger in her hand.

She slashed it across his throat in one smooth, violent motion. His hands flew to the wound as the blood began to gush. A moment later, he fell to my side.

The roaring vortex of the Hollow opened up—even here. It was the last thing I saw before I died.

And the last thing I felt was Bishop grasping hold of my hand.

* * *

I woke up, gasping for breath. My sheets were soaked with sweat. I felt the strong urge to bolt from my bed and start running as fast as I could somewhere, anywhere. But I forced myself to stay right where I was.

Bishop was an angel of death. One of Heaven’s assassins.

Cassandra hadn’t been lying when she’d told me this. I believed her. This piece of the puzzle fit really well, even if it revealed a terrifying picture.

He’d killed me in my dream tonight.

It was what I feared would happen in reality, no matter how much I tried to deny it, even to myself.

But I was different. Bishop and me—we were connected on a deeper level. Even though I didn’t know anything about his life before he became an angel, or his life as an angel, I had to trust my gut when it came to him. And my heart.

Because I did trust him.

Heart and gut didn’t lie—at least, not at the same time.

They didn’t.