Highborn. Part 9

She kissed him.

Brynna had thought she was going to teach Redmond a lesson, give him the old I-told-you-so example about s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with something that should have been off limits. But here, away from Lucifer and h.e.l.l and the power that she had once wielded over mortals and fellow demons alike, she was definitely unprepared for the sudden and unexpected response she felt from this human female body.

There was heat-lots of it-but it wasn't her generating it. And yet it was, and it was Redmond, and it was them, them, together. Her hands reached for him at the same time his arms went around her back and pulled her tightly against his chest. Brynna felt hungry and empty and wanting, desperate to feel his touch and tongue and nearness, to be with him skin to skin, to fold herself over him- together. Her hands reached for him at the same time his arms went around her back and pulled her tightly against his chest. Brynna felt hungry and empty and wanting, desperate to feel his touch and tongue and nearness, to be with him skin to skin, to fold herself over him- "Stop!"

Brynna came back to herself-where she was and what she was about to do-right before the two of them could fall onto the cheaply made twin bed.

"Why?" Redmond murmured against her neck.

His lips felt so good, so right, right, but no-it was everything but. She must but no-it was everything but. She must not not do this. do this.

She disentangled herself from his embrace and pushed him away, ignoring his look of confusion. "We can't."

"Why not?" He took a step toward her but Brynna danced out of his reach. "We're two consenting adults. We're not tied to anyone else." He tilted his head. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheeks almost glowing. "At least I'm I'm not." not."

Her mouth was still tingling, still carrying the taste of him through her nerve endings, still shooting need everywhere in her senses. "But I am, in ways you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"It's not that simple!"

"So you're married."

This made her laugh outright. "In a word, no. But I'm ... spoken for, I guess is how you would say it."

"By whom?" When she hesitated, he spread his hands. "Come on, Brynna. You kissed me. At least give me a reason why you won't follow through."

"Because I'm not human."

There, it was finally out.

Redmond's mouth worked, but for a long time it was obvious he just couldn't figure out what to say to her. "Brynna-"

She held up her hand, then edged back around to stand in front of the living room window. "No, don't find a hundred reasons to disregard what I just said. You've seen enough to where you ought to realize it's true. And," she added, "f.u.c.k the whole idea of there being some kind of 'limit' to what you can believe. I already told you my thoughts about that."

"Brynna-"

"If you say my name like that one more time, I'm going to smack you," she said irritably.

"Like ... what?"

"Like I'm some kind of crazy person with whom you have to be really patient and really careful about saying just the right thing." Brynna scowled as Redmond just kept staring at her. "This kind of thing was actually quite common back in the day, you know."

"'This kind of thing,'" he repeated. "'Back in the day.'" Redmond blinked, then rubbed his eyes as though he just couldn't believe what was happening. "All right. If you're not human, then what are you? An alien?"

"I'm ... Highborn," Brynna said.

"I have no idea what that means."

"You know," Brynna said. She lifted her chin and shot a gaze vaguely skyward. Yeah, they were inside, but she was willing to bet Redmond caught her gist. "Highborn. As in I used to be ..." He was watching her expectantly. "An angel," she finished at last. It actually hurt to say the words, but she made herself say them again. "I used to be an angel."

"But you're not anymore. Now you're human."

"No," she said softly. "I'm not human, not at all. Now I'm fallen. fallen."

Redmond was silent for a long moment. "Fallen." He tilted his head and pointed toward the floor. "As in ... down there."

Brynna couldn't stop a dry smile from slipping over her mouth. "Well, it's not exactly where you think it is, but yes. If that's how you have to cla.s.sify it, I'm from down there. down there."

"h.e.l.l. And you're a fallen angel."

She was on a roll, so Brynna decided to just throw it all out at once. "Technically I'm a demon. That's what fallen angels are."

"Right."

"Think about it," she insisted. The heat between them had cooled considerably. Brynna felt it was safe enough, so she went over and gathered herself into a sitting position on the floor in front of him. "How else would I be able to speak any language known to man, to heal from injuries that would kill a normal human, to know some of the things I do?" She spread her hands out, as if the truth were some kind of physical thing that she could offer him. "Finding that Korean girl, knowing Gavino for what he is-that's all part of it. That's what I am. am."

Redmond tried to clear his throat, but his voice was still hoa.r.s.e when he spoke. "You talk like this is an everyday thing," he said. "Like-"

"The world around you is a lot more complex than you realize," Brynna told him. "People aren't necessarily what you think they are. People like Gavino."

"Who's like you. A fallen angel."

"A demon, demon," she corrected. There was a string hanging from the bottom hem of her skirt, and Brynna picked at it so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. "We lost the right a long time ago to be called angels of any kind. Gavino is a Searcher, a demon who's here to find and destroy nephilim."

"Wait-there's angels, and demons, and now nephilim? What's a nephilim?"

"A nephilim is a child born of a human mother and an angel father," Brynna told him. "They each have a special purpose, a task that has to be completed in order for the nephilim to fulfill his or her destiny." She nodded to emphasize her words. "Eventually they figure out what the task is, and then they'll do everything in their power to get it done. They're driven-it's their entire reason for existing."

For the first time since she had started explaining this, Redmond's expression changed and he leaned forward on his chair. He finally looked a little shocked, like he might really be starting to believe her. "You're saying that angels actually exist today today?" he demanded. "And that they come down, and they ... mate mate with people?" with people?"

"They never stopped existing," Brynna said. "It stands to reason that if you have demons, you have angels as well."

Redmond stood abruptly. "There's nothing reasonable reasonable about this," he snapped. "You're a demon, and that Goth kid is a demon, and he's hanging around your building about this," he snapped. "You're a demon, and that Goth kid is a demon, and he's hanging around your building why why? Because he's got some kind of a job to do, to find out if there are any kids in the building with angelic fathers and-I a.s.sume-really religious mothers." Redmond ran a hand through his hair hard enough to yank on it. "G.o.d, Brynna, don't you hear how crazy all this sounds?"

"You've seen physical proof."

"I haven't seen s.h.i.t," he said crudely. "A few weird coincidences and you as some kind of language savant-"

"And bullet wounds!"

"-and a superhigh-healing metabolism," he finished stubbornly. "Nothing more."

"'He is able to deal gently with those who are ignorant and are going astray,'" Brynna quoted softly.

"Oh, please. Do not-do not start restating the Bible at me," Redmond said. Brynna's eyebrows rose at the anger in his voice. "In my job I've had that religious c.r.a.p used to try and justify some of the worst things people have ever done." start restating the Bible at me," Redmond said. Brynna's eyebrows rose at the anger in his voice. "In my job I've had that religious c.r.a.p used to try and justify some of the worst things people have ever done."

"I bet you have," Brynna said calmly.

"And let's not even get started on the Inquisition and holy wars and-"

Brynna held up her hand and Redmond snapped his mouth shut. "It's not my place to explain everything," she said patiently. "I wouldn't even know where to start, and I don't know everything anyway."

"Then what is is your place?" Redmond asked. "If you're really what you say you are, and you can do all the stuff you claim, then what the h.e.l.l are you doing your place?" Redmond asked. "If you're really what you say you are, and you can do all the stuff you claim, then what the h.e.l.l are you doing here here?" He gestured at the dingy little apartment. "In this ratty building, in this city, and specifically right here with me me?"

"I'm just trying to be forgiven."

Redmond rolled his eyes. "Right. Forgiven. For whatever it is that you supposedly did that made you a demon."

"I don't expect you to understand."

"Good call." Redmond strode to the door and yanked it open. "And I suppose Goth Boy-Gavino-wants the same thing. To be forgiven. forgiven."

"No," Brynna said matter-of-factly. "He just wants to kill Mireva."

Redmond had been halfway out the door, but he jerked to a stop and turned around. "Say what?"

"Mireva-the girl you saw him talking to in the hallway. Gavino wants to kill her because she's a nephilim."

He had taken two steps back into the apartment, but now Redmond halted and shook his head. "No, huh-uh. You are not not going to twist this around back to the beginning with angels and demons and all that BS and just start this conversation all over again. You will not get me to buy into this." going to twist this around back to the beginning with angels and demons and all that BS and just start this conversation all over again. You will not get me to buy into this."

"Then how do you explain-"

"I don't have to explain anything," he interrupted. "You have to prove it." have to prove it."

Brynna actually laughed. "So much for the concept of faith."

"I never said I was religious. In fact, I'm anything but. I'm a cop, which makes me a realist, which means I need to see the cold, hard evidence."

"You've seen plenty so far," Brynna pointed out.

"No," Redmond said firmly. "I haven't. I've seen circ.u.mstance and coincidence and maybe a bit of uncanny luck."

"There's no such thing as coincidence. Everything happens for a reason."

"Right." Redmond crossed his arms and gave her a hard look. "What you're saying is it's all predetermined anyway. If that's the case, then why bother?"

Brynna rose and swung the chair around to face him, then sat. "I didn't say that at all. There are always choices, but the choices are there for a reason. What happens depends on the choice someone makes. That's how the future is made."

Redmond snorted. "Double-talk, nothing more." She opened her mouth to argue, but he waved her off. "Nope, I'm going home. It's been a long day with a very confusing end to it. I need to think."

"But-"

"Good night, night, Brynna." Brynna."

And he was gone, pulling the door firmly shut between them.

She sat for a long time before she finally got up and peeled off her work clothes. By human standards her unair-conditioned apartment was hot-summers in Chicago could be sweltering and miserably humid-but Brynna didn't notice. This place wasn't much, but it had one thing that for a very long time in her existence had been in extremely short supply: Water.

Such a basic thing, but so exquisite. A hot shower was nice, but a cool one ... perhaps the closest thing to Heaven she'd experienced in too long to remember. And in Chicago, thanks to Lake Michigan, the tap water was always up to what she considered the best standards-cold and fabulous.

Brynna stood in the shower for twenty minutes, just letting the liquid pour over her head, feeling it sheet down her overly warm skin and soak into her pores. It calmed her spirit and relaxed her muscles, bringing her as near, perhaps, as she ever came to truly being sleepy. Afterward, dry and quiet, it was the one time of day that Brynna could chance lying on the bed and closing her eyes, late in the afternoon when the sun was still out and the night shadows had yet to offer hiding places to the human evil that sought it.

The mattress was thin and lumpy, the sheets scratchy from years of being washed in strong detergent and bleach. There were no such things in h.e.l.l and Brynna sank onto it and let her eyelids drift closed, thinking, as she did every time she settled in for a nap, that she had never felt anything so pleasing.

At least until she'd kissed Redmond.

She frowned in spite of herself, the thought worming its way onto what should have been a mental blank slate. She tried to push it away, searching for the slightly dizzy sensation that heralded oncoming sleep ...

It was too late.

Instead of napping, she found herself staring at the cracked, stained ceiling as a sweet glow of desire spread across her skin. It was gone in only a few seconds, but it was enough to make her realize Redmond had worked his way dangerously into her psyche. What would have happened if she hadn't stopped him, if she had let the two of them fall onto the bed? The human part of her wanted to believe in the simplicity of s.e.x, that nothing would have taken place other than an evening of l.u.s.t and physical fulfillment.

The demon side of her knew better.

Eleven.

Redmond woke up at six the next morning thrashing and covered in sweat, clutching at the summer-weight throw on the bed like it was a rope he was using to haul himself out of h.e.l.l itself ... which was precisely how he felt.

He forced himself to sit up in bed and groaned aloud. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this hot-was he running a fever? His hair was stuck wetly to his scalp and his eyes stung from perspiration. The lightweight muscle T and boxer shorts he'd worn to bed were sodden and uncomfortable. All he wanted in the world was a long, cool shower.

Grunt, his five-year-old Great Dane, raised her head and looked at him hopefully from where she was rolled into a not-inconsiderable-size ball on the lower quarter of his queen-sized bed. "Huh-uh," Redmond said. "No way, not until I get my shower." Grunt was deaf and couldn't hear a d.a.m.ned thing, but she got the message from his head shake; after an overlong second she dropped her ma.s.sive white head onto the covers and gave an immense, crestfallen sigh.

"Right," Redmond said over his shoulder as he shoved aside the damp sheets. "Call the animal cops if you think you're so abused." Her response was just what he expected: With Redmond finally out of the way, the dog unrolled herself and stretched out, groaning happily at all the extra room.

He climbed into the shower and stood under the spray for a long time, using the cool water to chase away the last remnants of his bad dreams, then switching to hot for a good scrub down. The details of the dream-of the nightmare nightmare-were long gone, but Redmond was sure fire had been involved in it somewhere, fire and s.e.x ... but no, that was the limit of what he still had floating around in his brain. Impressions, but not much else. It was Brynna, of course, and that line of crazy c.r.a.p she'd thrown at him yesterday at her apartment. Did she really think he'd buy it? Demons and angels and h.e.l.l, oh my. Next he'd be asking who was playing Wicked Witch of the West.

Except ...

Redmond gave himself a mental slap and twisted the temperature back to cool, then all the way to cold. When he finally took pity on himself and shut it off, his teeth were chattering as he pulled aside the shower curtain and reached for his towel. At least he wasn't thinking-much-about h.e.l.l anymore.

He shaved and cleaned up after himself, changed the sheets-something he did often because he let Grunt sleep with him-then made himself a hard-boiled egg sandwich for breakfast. By the time he'd finished eating, Grunt was at the end of her patience and was pacing between wherever Redmond happened to be standing and the door. If she'd been capable of yelling Hurry up! Hurry up! he'd have probably heard her a dozen times over. he'd have probably heard her a dozen times over.

Once they were on the street, he and Grunt headed east up Arlington. At a quarter past seven the traffic on Clark Street was already headed to a mini-jam, with cars inching along and taxis swerving around the pedestrians and buses. Redmond didn't stay on Clark for long, just the block between Arlington and Deming, because Grunt loved everyone. Should some unfortunate man or woman stop long enough to comment about her to Redmond, Grunt's way of showing affection was to jam her ma.s.sive head between the stranger's knees. There she would stand, her shoulders tight against their kneecaps (provided the object of her affection could maintain a semblance of balance), and wait to be petted.

Redmond was stubborn about keeping Clark in their walk routine only because he wanted Grunt to see all the people and the cars and the activity-it was good socialization. He thought of the left turn onto Deming as a sort of safety zone, where the commotion and fuss of the Chicago morning mellowed into the quieter side of urban living and Grunt stopped being such a spaz and a suck-up to total strangers.

Deming was a beautiful street. Most of the buildings were brown- or graystones built in the late eighteen to early nineteen hundreds, spectacular two- and three-story structures with wide front steps, stone porches, and triple-width bay windows. As was typical in Chicago, there wasn't much s.p.a.ce between them, just enough for a pa.s.sageway to the postage-stamp backyards. They were handsome and imposing, like st.u.r.dy, weathered old men keeping a stern watch over this calm street.

Away from the scramble of Clark Street, Grunt walked quietly a few feet in front of him, pulling slightly on her leash as she always did. What the Great Dane lacked in hearing, she made up for in smell. Everything-from flowers to yard decorations to fence posts-was a full-fledged olfactory adventure. Her policy was smell first and ask questions later, so even the occasional mondo-sized beetle crossing their path was fair game.

As he and Grunt came up on Orchard, Redmond slowed, then stopped in front of the large plaza that was the entrance to Saint Clement Church on the corner. He'd been pa.s.sing it nearly every day that he walked Grunt, and yet Redmond realized he'd never paid a bit of attention to the ma.s.sive building. Below stone archways were three separate sets of double wooden doors, all of which were now opened in an unspoken invitation. In the center of the front of the church building proper was a huge ornamental stained-gla.s.s rose window set in stone, and on each side of the plaza, fading back into deep shadows, were enormous oak trees that were doubtlessly over a century old. It was quite impressive, and for the first time since he'd lived in the Lincoln Park area-nearly twenty years-Redmond wanted to go inside, to see what it looked like. To feel feel it. it.