Page 39 of Darkness

Farren peered downward at his bloodstained shirt and hands, the color hardly discernible in the low illumination of a streetlight through sooty windows. The iron smell of blood had become all too familiar lately.

He wiped his hands on the man’s pants, pulled out his phone again, and called dispatch.

As he sat by the body, waiting for the containment team, he shone his cell phone flashlight over the corpse’s face, leathery with age.

A man relinquished his life for the benefit of another's, likely against his will, unless the traveler found a dying body to possess. Judging by the being's attitude and flashes of insight, Farren doubted he'd been so considerate.

How many bodies had the traveler possessed throughout the decades, murdering humans to take their place? More and more these days, Farren wondered how many from Domus truly meant no harm.

He couldn’t blame the humans for their suspicions.

Chapter Fourteen

Morrisey debated going out. Paranoia sang in his head about being watched, though for the life of him, he couldn’t name the song. Although further conversation with the scary woman might provide answers to some of his life’s current burning questions, he was almost as afraid to run into her as hopeful he would. After reading and learning from Leary and Austen, besides doing independent research, Morrisey had questions he’d likely not get honest answers to from the FBI, regardless of Leary’s promise.

Which led Morrisey to revisit the bar where he’d met the woman who’d called herself Jessalain. He’d no sooner sat down and ordered a beer when a trace of expensive floral perfume wafted over him.

He slowly shifted his gaze toward the left. A beautiful blonde sat there, tall, nearly six feet, Morrisey bet, even without her towering heels. Her lips stretched into a smile, displaying even, white teeth. “I thought I might find you here.”

Morrisey studied the woman, but no sense of familiarity came. “Do I know you?”

“Look closer.” The stunning woman gave a musical laugh.

Morrisey looked. For one moment, her face flickered, one image superimposed by another. His heart sped. He’d found Jessa. “Who are you today?”

Jessa’s smile dimmed slightly. “Sheila is a temporary host. I’m still Jessalain.”

“Why the new body?” Given what he’d learned, Morrisey might need to arrest this woman someday. How could he arrest someone, though, if they could easily slip into someone else?

And how messed up to even consider such matters?

“My host is timid and needs to confront her ex to take back some family heirlooms. Though she lacks the brass balls, I don’t.” The blonde peeled her lips into a savage grin. Two men actually backed away.

Morrisey scowled. “I thought you fed on lust. Have you become a do-gooder?”

Jessa laughed, heartier and less practiced this time. “Not hardly. Not only are we able to chat without raising suspicion from the two men following you, but tonight I shall feast on not only Sheila’s ex’s desire for her, his desire for the power over her withholding her grandmother’s jewelry brings, but also his desire for the money he plans to sell them for.”

“Men are following me?” Not surprising. Morrisey thought he’d gotten a few glimpses on his way here.

“Everything I just told you, and that’s what you focus on? Of course, you’re being followed. You’re being recruited by a group who play by their own rules. They’re possibly more paranoid than you. They’d leave nothing to chance.” Jessa tutted. “Prepare to kiss your privacy goodbye.”

So, she knew about the FBI’s offer. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’ll decide for yourself since you strike me as the stubborn type, but I honestly don’t believe you can trust them.”

“You don’t.” A statement, not a question.

Jessa tossed her head, sending blonde waves shimmering over her shoulders. “I don’t. They’re indiscriminate. To them, I’m a criminal who’s earned banishment for taking a body that isn't either deceased or near death.”

Dead bodies, or those teetering near death, stretched the limits of Morrisey's twisted perspective. “From what you say, your arrangements are mutually beneficial.”

“Try telling FAET.” Jessa pronounced the acronym as “Fate.” "Besides, how can you be sure I’m not lying? To humans, I’m a lust demon. You can't trust me. I’ll do anything, use anyone, to get what I want.” She kept her tone mocking, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. So, she didn’t have a high opinion of humans, FAET, or both.

Good point, though. With the loss of Will, Morrisey stopped trusting people, not that he’d trusted many before. He sipped his beer, mulling over Jessa’s words. Farren was too beautiful to be trusted. Nature lured in unsuspecting victims with beauty all the time. Just look at poisonous plants.

But weren’t angels inherently good? Creatures of light?

Jessa nudged Morrisey with her elbow. “You’ve been around enough to know things are rarely black and white.”

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