The Road To Hell Part 13

h.e.l.lo, negative side?

Well, a voice whispered, still sounding obnoxiously like Meg, you'd have to leave Paul.

But I love him.

You think he loves you? In my mind, Daun chuckled. You think about it. As your man makes you feel like s.h.i.t for being who and what you are, you think long and hard.

Why was I fighting Daun's advances? Other than the eternal d.a.m.nation thing, that is. And even that wasn't a guarantee-like Daun said, Lillith had become a mortal demon.

Why not me?

I brought a handful of the bed sheet up to my nose and sniffed. I wanted to smell Paul on the cotton, wanted to feel his presence next to me. But all I smelled was fabric softener.

Was Paul thinking about me right now? Was he still angry? Did he forgive me?

I wished I could hear his voice.

Did he still love me?

Reaching over to the nightstand, I picked up the cordless phone and pressed the speed-dial combo to connect me to Paul's police station. Even if he was furious with me, I needed to speak to him, to tell him that I was sorry.

And if he was really still that angry with me and told me to go to h.e.l.l, maybe I'd take him up on his offer.

No luck. The desk sergeant politely told me that Paul wasn't available, but he'd let Paul know that I called. I told the sergeant to have a pleasant day as I silently hoped he'd succ.u.mb to a bout of diarrhea at an inopportune time. Then I called Paul's cell phone. Voicemail. Well, at least I got to hear his voice.

Mental note: Be more specific when making wishes.

"Hi," I said after the little beep. "Um. I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you. And. Um. I'm sorry about last night. Um, I'll be home. For a bit. Hope you'll call me. Love you. Bye."

A silver-tongued devil I most clearly was not.

Where was he? Wasn't it early in the day for him to be saving the world? Didn't he usually wait until after lunch for heroics?

Maybe he was on another call. Maybe he left me a note.

A quick circuit around the apartment proved that Paul had other things on his mind this morning besides leaving me a note. Granted, I hadn't really expected one; the only reason he hadn't tossed me on my a.s.s last night (and not in the fun-filled s.e.xual way) was because he had a do-gooder streak in him roughly the size of Alaska.

He's just busy, I told myself. He'll call.

Uh huh, Meg's voice whispered in my mind. Once she'd played at being my conscience. Now it seemed like my brain had decided to keep her voice around for such occasions. Sure he will.

He will.

He's ignoring you, Jezzie. That's what humans do when they're angry. They ignore each other. They hint each other.

Don't start about the hurt. You hurt me, and you're not even human.

I told you before. I'm not Meg, Jezzie. I'm you. And this isn't about Meg anyway. This is about you, and Paul... and whether you're still willing to sacrifice everything for him.

I love him.

Comforting. Except he doesn't trust you. Bets on how long a relationship without trust can last?

Hot tears burned trails down my cheeks as I padded naked around the apartment, lost. The charred outline of the pierced heart pulsed on the floor, with the mid-morning sunlight beaming through the living room window like a spotlight from Heaven. The glow was insidious, subtle-a hint of red winking among the black, the spark of embers in a dying campfire.

Daun had been right. Alecto was coming for me today-and soon.

c.r.a.p.

I had to figure out what to do.

I caught the hint of my reflection off the small window in the dining room-bed head that would have given hairstylists a case of the nerves, smudges beneath my eyes that looked like bruises, my eyes large and shocked, framed in yesterday's makeup.

No wonder Paul hadn't woken me this morning. One look at me probably was enough to make him want to call in a priest and book the next available exorcism.

Being human sucked. Emotions sucked. Love really, really sucked.

Full circle to self-pity.

Hating my life, I forced myself to climb into the shower. My world was unraveling, but real life didn't allow time-outs when s.h.i.t happened. My afternoon shift at Spice kicked off at noon. Maybe I was utterly miserable, but that was no excuse to give up a few hours of flashing my b.o.o.bs and inspiring a lot of wet dreams. Some people smiled even when they were sad; me, I'd strip down to my G-string and bask in the aura of s.e.xual desire, even though the one man in the world I wanted couldn't bear the thought of touching me.

s.e.x isn't going to fix this, Jesse.

I did the shave-soap-shampoo thing as Paul's judgment played in my mind, again and again. By the time I rinsed off my conditioner, my despair and self-loathing had given way to a bubbling anger.

How'm I supposed to trust you?

Rage filled me, hotter than the scalding spray of water that washed me clean. Who was he, with his holier-than-thou att.i.tude?

I need s.p.a.ce.

Well, f.u.c.k Paul Hamilton six ways to Salvation. I'd give him all the s.p.a.ce he needed. White s.p.a.ce, complete with debris.

I finished my shower and toweled dry. Then, with my hair wrapped in terrycloth and my body covered in a thick robe, I stormed out of the bathroom.

And let out a screech when Angel appeared in my path.

"I'm sorry to startle you," she said, all innocence.

"Holy f.u.c.k in Heaven," I shouted, one hand over my heart, "doesn't anyone believe in knocking anymore?"

"I wished to speak with you."

"Fine. Speak. But I'm on a tight schedule." I pushed past her into the bedroom.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were busy."

"Yeah, well, I have to get dressed, do my makeup, wreck Paul's apartment, pack up, find a place to live, and then get to work. So if you don't mind, make it fast."

Silence for a few precious minutes, which I used to finish rubbing my hair dry. My black curls rejoiced in their shiny cleanliness, bouncing and springing as I ran my fingers through them. There were times when I dearly missed having powers-I'd never, not in a hundred years, learn how to style my hair properly.

"Er, why do you want to wreck your lover's home?"

"Because he p.i.s.sed me off."

"Oh. And the packing?"

"He says he needs s.p.a.ce. What do you want, Angel?"

She paused, perhaps absorbing what I'd told her. I barreled past her and went back into the bathroom, tossing my towel to the floor. Paul could let the maid get it. The mirror had unfogged enough for me to start applying my makeup, so I pulled my cosmetics bag out from its resting place in the second drawer beneath the sink. I slammed the drawer shut, feeling extremely satisfied by the echoing bang. Yes, a little wanton destruction would put the spring back in my step.

"I think it is a mistake for you to ruin your lover's home just because you are angry."

I cast a glance over my shoulder and up at the cherub. Bless me, did she have to be so tall? "Really? Why's that?"

"Isn't the answer obvious?"

"The man wants s.p.a.ce," I said, turning back to face the mirror and apply my eyeliner. "I'm thinking a mallet through the living room wall would accommodate that nicely. Humans put too much emphasis on walls anyway."

"You have a mallet?"

"Hmm. Good point. Maybe a baseball bat will do. Paul's got one of those under his bed."

"But this will ruin any chance at you and he making amends."

"I don't want to make amends. I want to make a mess. A spectacular, unholy mess."

"That doesn't seem very beneficial."

"No, but it'll be very therapeutic." I reached for the eye shadow. "I'll blow off steam while I blow up his stuff. Maybe I'll yank his Nagels off the walls and hurl them out the window. If I get lucky, maybe I can smite a few pa.s.sersby."

"You don't mean that."

"Nothing like a good smiting to kick off the day. Why should G.o.d get to have all the fun?"

My blasphemy must have stunned her to silence. Good. I concentrated on layering my lids with sparkling green powder, then I took out my mascara wand and began pumping out my lashes to Biblical proportions.

"I've been told destruction is hard work."

Her words caught me so off-guard that my hand slipped. "Oh, c.r.a.p." Muttering, I reached for my eyelash comb. Bless me, there were times when I really missed being able to magic myself up a perfect face.

"You're pretty enough without any cosmetics, you know."

This from a woman who was so gorgeous that supermodels would gleefully commit hari-kari. "You're all heart."

My left eye was absolutely stunning-the liquid liner had gone on smoothly, the green shadow transformed my eye into a sparkling emerald, and the mascara hadn't dreamed of clumping. But the right eye was officially a f.u.c.king disaster, and my eyelash comb was barely making a dent through all the makeup globs pasting my upper lashes into a follicle pancake. Muttering, I ransacked my bag for the eye-makeup remover.

As I tissued away the clumped mascara, I glanced at the angel's reflection. "Why'd you ask about destruction?"

"Just curious about how difficult it is to do a good job. Um. Evil job."

"Actually, destroying things is easy. It's when you get creative that it takes work."

"And I a.s.sume you're very... creative?"

"Sweetie," I preened, "when it comes to destruction, I am an artiste."

"Well then, shouldn't you have waited to shower until after you destroyed everything?"

"Why?"

"Won't you get all sweaty and filthy when you... give your lover s.p.a.ce?"

Bless me, the blonde had a point. "Fine. I'll shower again."

"Weren't you the one who said you were on a tight schedule?"

f.u.c.k.

"Of course, if you decided to rearrange some things, maybe you'd still be able to fit everything in..."

"Fine, fine," I said with a disgusted sigh. "I got it. No trashing the place."

Her smile radiated good deeds. "I knew you'd make the right choice."

"Don't you dare start rubbing off on me."

Her celestial blues clouded over. '"Rubbing off... ?"

At least she was still stupid. That brought a smile to my lips. "Never mind. So what's so urgent that you had to pop in unannounced?"

She frowned at me, tilting her head to the side as she considered me. Whatever. I finished my eye makeup as she debated whether to answer my question. I was on my lip liner when she finally said, "I wanted to thank you. For our talk last night."

"Oh?" I smirked at her reflection. "Is that what they're calling it these days? And here I thought it was still referred to as 'making out.'"

Heh. Lookee. I made the angel blush.

"Not that. The explanation. You made it all so clear. It really made sense when you said that s.e.x could be almost holy." Her lips quirked into a smile. No matter how much color I added, my face would never look half as sensual as hers did at this moment-lips parted in an expression of simple delight, blue eyes sparkling with an inner light.

That b.i.t.c.h.

"That's my new purpose," she said. "To give my clients a touch of the Presence, to let them experience something holy. To let them experience G.o.d."

Right before she whisked them down to h.e.l.l. But far be it from me to quash her religious fervor. "No problem."

"So now I must return the favor."

I stared at her reflection before I tossed my makeup into my case and zipped it closed. "You must, huh? Explain."