Page 6 of Crimson Promises
“Here, let me take the bag. Carrying Charles is heavy enough. For such a little bunny, he’s a sturdy one.”
“I got it from here. It’s only a short walk home.”
Remy only stared.
“Seriously, I got it. Thanks for showing up, I guess. Though next time, a few minutes earlier would be ideal.”
He chuckled at that.
“I’ll see you soon?”
The question hung in the air.
Remy nodded slowly. As if not sure.
I hiked the bag over my shoulder and headed back alone. However, I felt his presence the entire way home.
* * *
Those crimson eyes woke me up again. They seemed to be watching, waiting.
As I tried to fall back asleep, I couldn’t help wondering how often those beady red eyes lurked in the shadows.
ChapterTwo
Bennett
Ipulled at the ends of my hair, probably making it look like I had been electrocuted. Right now, that seemed like the better idea. Damn, she was such a magnet for trouble.
Street Smart Lesson 101: never walk alone at nighttime. I blew out a breath, sending the hair falling over my right eye. Walking across campus alone when it was pitch black out. Excellent decision-making skills. The least she could have done was be on the phone with someone until she got to her building. Lucky for her, I was there. I was always there. Not like I had any choice.
He made it crystal clear that I shouldn’t interact with her, but she was so lonely and had an uncanny ability to attract any disaster within a ten-mile radius. Once she started getting older, I made myself scarce, which was healthier for her and me. I didn’t need to incur his wrath.
Tonight, she almost caught sight of me after eight years.
The first time Aurora realized I was around scared the shit out of me. When she was a baby, she tracked me with her eyes a few times, but I didn’t give it much thought. Everyone knew that because babies had pure souls, they could still see and communicate with spirits. She was supposed to grow out of that. When she was four, I knew she had The Sight. Aurora asked who I was and if I wanted to play with her. Stephen never saw me. No one else did either.
Tonight was a close call. Her first thought should have been to run. Instead, she let some—I shuddered—creep approach her and reach out to touch her while looking for her fucking pepper spray. If anything, all it did was antagonize him more. While the creep grabbed her hair, I roundhouse-kicked him in the stomach simultaneously as Aurora nailed him in the groin using a simple cloaking spell to disguise my presence. The pressure points there could damage his carotid artery. Good riddance. I took to the skies to ensure she encountered no more trouble on her way home. Didn’t know she was capable of running that fast. Suitable to know for the future.
I crossed the studio to the window in three strides. Hours had passed since the altercation, and I was still on edge.
The apartment served its purpose. I bought it for the location once Aurora moved to Arch Cape. I rested my forearm against the cool glass, thankful she hadn’t chosen somewhere warm like Florida. Angels ran warmer than humans, even the fallen ones.
The light flicked on in Aurora’s apartment—she did that the odd time she had nightmares. It must be a bad night. I focused on her silhouette through the curtains until the light clicked off.
My studio was parallel to her loft. I didn’t stand there with binoculars the entire day like a Peeping Tom, but it helped to monitor things closely. Or watch over her as I had been instructed. For the most part, I tried to respect her privacy as much as I could. She had drapes for the windows, so I never saw anything inappropriate. Except once, when she had a fan going, I saw a flicker of her toned waist.
Most humans wouldn’t consider the place homey: the furnishings were sparse, and most drawers were empty, with minimal personal touches. The black leather sofa was in the bottom right corner of the room with a seventy-inch television. Nothing covered the concrete floors except a taupe rug at the entrance. The kitchen was across from the entertainment space, cabinetry took up the entire wall with a thin island, and bar chairs were all the seating that was offered. Behind the couch was a giant king bed, my only mandate. Additional room was needed for the wings. An armoire sat across the overbearing bed with the door next to the ensuite right beside it.
After all these years on earth, money was never the issue. I had hired someone to decorate the place. Mortals, apart from those who had The Sight, could only see angels when we wished to present ourselves in human form. It was a simple bit of magic that concealed our wings. One had to only whisper the incantationoccultare.
What did I know about interior design? The designer, I couldn’t recall her name, had coined the term ‘modern industrial’ while batting her eyelashes at me. I wasn’t interested. Not while I had a job to do. Didn’t mean I neglected to enjoy myself the odd night, but there had been no one significant for hundreds of years. What was the point when you would outlive the person you loved? Never changing, remaining stagnant. I learned a long time ago that loving someone only resulted in pain. It was easier to be alone. Safer.
I looked sidelong at the digital clock on the stove, my gaze grazing over the archaic oven. Why someone would need that appliance when they had take-out available was beyond my comprehension—the best development of the twenty-first century. Eating wasn’t a function I was required to partake in, but it helped pass the time. Made me appear normal when I had to blend in. Suppose mortals chose to eat bland wafers. That would be the closest comparison. Tasteless, almost as if you were eating air, but still edible.
An ambulance whipped down the street. I could hear the patient's fading heartbeat from here. Azrael wouldn’t be far behind. The Angel of Death would escort the soul to receive judgment before the ‘Originals,’ a council composed of Heaven’s nine archangels. The Originals also comprised Heaven’s First Hierarchy. Humans would be shocked to discover that Heaven wasn’t all rainbows, unicorns, and fluffy clouds made of cotton candy. It was infested with its own bureaucratic and political limitations. Those born into the second hierarchy were bestowed with powers and, as such, were referred to as The Gifted. They were treated like royalty. Those of the third hierarchy had no hope of working their way up to be a part of God’s revered inner circle. It was a merciless life, one with minimal opportunity. Something I had firsthand experience with.
I stepped away from the window into the shadows. The archangels didn’t come down to earth unless it suited them. Instead, they sent one of The Gifted to do their bidding. For years, I avoided their radar. I wasn’t interested in becoming one of their lapdogs. The last time I saw The Angel of Death was on the battleground. The day I grasped how stupid I had been. The day I understood, I would never get to go home again. The day I was punished with a permanent reminder that I had chosen the darkness over the light.
