Michael And I Ch 03

A/N: Thanks for reading and tell me what you think :)

*****

I'd pussed out like a bitch, there was no denying it. I had ran away from Michael with my tail between my legs. He'd certainly seemed harmless but...

But how could I know for sure?

I looked over at the sleeping Sara who'd I'd fucked until she had been too exhausted to go anymore. She lay on her stomach with her arm thrown out across the bed, snoring softly. I gathered my scattered clothes and tiptoed out of her bedroom.

Michael hadn't appeared a second time and I was beginning to wonder if I'd seen him at all. I still didn't want to go home so I decided to look for a café or coffee shop that was open all night. Technically, I didn't even need to sleep I was just so accustomed to going through the motions of being human it was strange to break from the routine.

I seated myself at one of the outdoor tables in front of a quaint little diner I hadn't been to before just taking a moment for quiet me time. It hadn't been maybe thirty minutes before I caught a whiff of sulfur and I knew that my peace was about to end.

I tried to stay calm and not outwardly show that I was aware of the other demon's presence, continuing to play a game on my blackberry. A sudden movement at my elbow sent my phone clattering to the table as I turned prepared for the worst only to find a confused human waiter holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"A man inside ordered this for you," he explained, cautiously setting the steaming contents down in front of me.

I whipped my head around checking the diner, it's large front window allowing full-view of all the tables inside. "Who?"I asked.

"What? The man he's-" the waiter paused, seeing what I saw: an empty building. "Oh. I don't understand he was sitting right there next to the counter. He must have left..."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm sure that's all it was. Thank you."

The waiter still looked unconvinced and shook his head trying to dispel the strangeness from his mind before leaving.

"Hey what did the guy look like?" I asked but he wasn't listening. I sniffed the scalding liquid curiously before taking a sip. I was naturally immune to heat and it left a pleasurable tingling sensation deep in my chest.

"Why did you leave?"

I nearly exploded the paper cup in my hand hearing Michael's voice so suddenly. While I had been preoccupied he'd taken the opportunity to appear in the seat across from me. He looked agitated. Great.

I decided honesty was the best route, "You scared the life out of me when you told me who you are. I panicked."

"Did I not say that you don't have to be afraid? When you didn't come back to your apartment I started to think the worst and then I find you with that girl."

Oh, shit. He thought that I'd left just because sex was more important than he was.

So, he was watching me with Sara. It hadn't been just my imagination.

"How do you not know where I am? You're all powerful aren't you?"

He sighed, his fiery orbs scrutinizing me as if he didn't believe me. "No. That isn't how it works and you're different somehow. It's like your spirit is shielded from my sight."

I knew he didn't mean "sight" in the conventional sense, but the second sight that allowed him to recognize demons in the same way demons could see Angels.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"I went to that strip club where you work and asked around. Someone saw you leave with the "new girl". I tracked her instead."

"You went back to O' Donovans' even after I said not to? You're going to get me fired." I felt outraged.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, still scrutinizing my every reaction.

"Doing what?"

"Living this way; trying so hard to be something you're not."

"Do you want me to murder people? Isn't that the opposite of what you're trying to accomplish?" I was unable to keep the scorn from my voice. "Besides isn't this what demons do. Blend in and hide from the Man. Sorry if I didn't get my complimentary guide book on how to be evil in the mail."

Michael looked genuinely confused by my attitude and it made a cute little crease appear between his eyebrows as he frowned at me.

"Why did you come to my apartment and what the hell did you drag me into anyway?" I asked, deciding to turn the questions around on him.

"I was dying, Riel. I didn't understand why I felt that way about you and I wanted to see you one last time. It was unfortunate that I was already so weak by the time I found you."

"But you can't die... can you? I mean you'd just be reincarnated or something."

"Yes it is possible for me to die but I wouldn't be able to return to the human world. I would cease to be."

"Oh," I said, feeling nauseated at the thought of a world without Michael in it. It was unfathomable. He seemed so different than anything I could have anticipated and already I felt sickeningly attached to him.

"As for how I found you, I only had to ask for your address from one of your friends. I found out before I was attacked, obviously."

Oh yes. I'm sure Michael had been very "persuasive" in getting that information. I felt sorry for humans sometimes. They were so easily manipulated by both sides.

"What could possibly kill you? You're so powerful. It has to be something pretty bad."

"Indeed. It was entirely by chance that we found each other, I was only at O' Donovans' to inquire into another matter. It's why I was attacked. I wasn't expecting there to be any resistance."

That made sense: an Angel at a strip club was highly unlikely unless there was an ulterior motive behind it. If I'd picked up on anything about Angels it was always about a means to an end with them.

"Did you plan to just drop dead in my apartment if I hadn't flown us out?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly, Riel. I'm surprised I even made it to you."

My head ached. What he was describing was seriously bad shit. As in end of the world shit. Michael gently placed his hand over mine, our entwined fingers resting on the table.

"I'm sorry that I ever got you involved in any of this," he said, softly. I stared at his porcelain skin contrasted against my own, the light bluish veins that were visible just beneath the surface. I started to feel dizzy from the continued contact and blinked a few times trying to clear my head.

I realized that I wanted him to kiss me again so that I could feel that blissful heat deep inside me ignite. "Why were you so drunk when you showed up?"

I didn't know where the words came from, but I had to know. The scent of alcohol was the most prominent thing about him when he'd crashed my apartment. My mind raced at the possibilities. Michael had been drunk which explained why he had been caught off guard when he was attacked.

"I was... confused. About you," he hesitated. I could see that he was struggling for the right words.

I waited for him to continue, his gaze focused on our hands, a frown appearing across his brow. "I've never felt this way," he breathed, looking lost, his eyes searching mine.

"Neither have I," I confessed.

"But it can't continue," he said flatly and I felt my heart still. He abruptly pulled away from me and I had to fight the urge to reach for him.

No.

"It's blasphemy for this to go any further. You'd be hunted and killed. Not by me but by the others."

No,no,no!

"So?" I spat. "What do you care?"

"Don't be foolish. This is the last time we'll meet like this. Accept it and move on."

I blinked and he was gone leaving his scent hanging in the air like the finest cologne. It hardly registered for several minutes that he'd left me without even saying goodbye. I could feel a lump in my throat and I angrily swallowed it down.

Why did I care so damn much? I'd only known him for a couple of days and it felt like I was losing a life long friend. There was something about Michael that just felt so right and whatever that something was I hadn't gotten enough of it. I wanted to scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were many demon dives around Vegas since it wasn't called "sin city" for nothing. Although I doubted that was the original intended meaning behind the nickname. I stood outside one such place dressed in a dark grey hoodie, the hood pulled up to conceal my face in case someone or something was watching.

It was as I would have expected; sweaty bodies writhing to some heavy techno music that thumped over the sound system. A couple pressed into a corner away from the crowd, the man feeding from a cut on the woman's breast while her eyelids fluttered in pleasure, her hands knotted in his hair.

Drinking blood wasn't an uncommon practice amongst demons and most likely the inspiration behind vampires. I sighed and rolled my eyes. This place should be renamed club cliché.

"Hey there baby. You looking to get fucked up?"

Some ape came out of left field and loomed over me smelling like vomit. I whipped my tail around and pressed the scythe-like blade on the end under his chin, "No, are you?" I returned sweetly.

His softly glowing amber eyes widened fractionally before he backed off merging in with the crowd. I allowed the sharpened protrusion to turn back into flesh so I didn't cut off somebody's leg by accident while I weaved through the mass of bodies. I made my way to the back room where demons lurked in their true forms.

Horns, tails, wings, and other grotesqueries were on full display here. Multiple demons fed on a single human male who was stripped naked, his body covered in bites and bruises. He moaned in a mixture of pleasure pain as one of the female demons rubbed at his cock which lay flushed and swollen against his stomach using only her palm.

There were various other sexual acts in the dark recesses of the back room. Another demon, tall and lank with shoulder length white hair getting head from two topless human women. One of the women took his erection between her breasts and eagerly massaged his arousal. He bared his teeth in a snarl as his seed spilled all over the tops of her breasts in thick, white spurts.

I dragged my attention away when her friend began lapping up the mess and sloppily shared it in a kiss that was more licking than actual kissing.

Humans were only amusements here in the eyes of hell. I didn't have time to think about that now. It was unlikely that anyone would be killed as it would draw unwanted attention to the truth of just what lecherous things went on there.

I also knew the owner, an old friend who had "loosely" converted to my more humane ways of living. He was the reason that I'd decided to stop by. I had questions and I knew that he was a terrible gossip who knew everything about everyone.

There were cushions piled around the back of the room for seating and other activities. That was where I found him. A young woman sat in his lap while he fed from her wrist, a dreamy look on her face, her fingers absently stroking his hair, encouraging him.

"Art," I said loudly enough to get his attention.

He grinned at me, his lengthened canines stained red from his meal. "Riel! Want some?" Art offered up the woman's wrist as if it were the straw to a milkshake. I shook my head and he sent her away while I took a seat beside him.

Even though Art had never given his true age (he was worse than a woman when it came to that) I had come to the conclusion that he was at least three hundred years old. Judging by some of the things he'd claimed to have seen.

"You look like shit, babe. And what's with the jacket? Could you look a little less like you're wearing a bomb vest," he half joked.

I only hugged myself tightly, wrapping the loose material around myself like a protective cocoon. "Mind if I show you something real quick?" he asked.

"What's that?"

"Give me your hand. Palm up."

I did as he asked and before I could react he sliced a deep gash into my palm with a razor blade that had been concealed in his hand. "What the fuck!" I exploded, snatching my hand back. "Now, look," he insisted, ignoring my murderous glare.

The cut remained dry and bloodless; the tissues appearing withered and dead. "Yeah. So?" I said.

"So? So you are fucking mummifying from the inside out. Your body won't last unless you nourish it and I'm not talking about all that cookie dough and whatever other garbage you call food. You don't even have to kill anybody so I don't get what the big deal is."

"The big deal is that I think that it's fucked up. That's all the reason I need."

"For chrissake, Riel," Art whined. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Everything that I had learned about demons I'd learned from Art. We'd met in the short time I'd spent in Mexico and I'd probably saved his life even though he'd never admit it. I had encouraged him to come with me when I returned to the States and he agreed.

"What do you want?" he interrupted my reverie. "What makes you think I want anything?" I said, innocently.

"Just don't. You never come to see me just to say hi even though you dragged me with you only for you to not listen to my advice when I'm trying to help you. So what is it?"

"I, uh, met someone..." I suddenly felt like an awkward teen trying to tell her mom about her first boyfriend. "Relationship advice? This is a new one. What's his name? Or is it a woman?" Art said. He moved in closer, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial edge.

"Michael," I croaked. God, I couldn't even say his name out loud. "But there's something else you should know..."

Should I tell him that Michael was the Archangel? I didn't know who to trust yet. Art was my only other real demon friend even though we were estranged most of the time. What choice did I have? I had a bad feeling about all of this and if I didn't tell somebody I thought I'd explode.

"He's an Angel," I said.

The knowledge physically repelled Art backwards so that he had to catch himself to keep from falling over. "What?" he sputtered looking as if I'd just slapped him. "You can't mean... oh fuck me."

The significance of the name and the title coming together in Art's mind was amusing to watch. I told him everything, how Michael was attacked after leaving O' Donovans' and how I'd saved his life. Art's mouth dropped open when I told him how Michael had kissed me.

"In front of Phil? Holy shit. What was it like?"

"Scary at first. Then, it was hot. Really hot."

"This is fucking insane. What is he doing here? It must be pretty serious for him to show up."

"He says it's a weapon capable of killing Angels. Maybe he was here looking for it and I distracted him." Art looked thoughtful, "That... would make sense. In the wrong hands it could be enough to change the course of the War. But to act so boldly?"

The War wasn't as it may sound. There wasn't an astral battlefield where there were Angels and demons waving swords and shields around. It's simply the name for the eternal battle of good vs evil. The demons could only enter the human plane if certain conditions were met and that ensured that the Angels could keep them in check without being overrun.

"I wanted to know if you'd heard anything on the street about a weapon like that but judging by your reaction I already have my answer," I sighed, feeling a mixture of disappointment and relief that I wouldn't have to follow a lead.

"So that you can give it to Michael and thus win his heart?" Art snickered, his somber mood already lightened. "I know a guy who knows a guy. I'll get you his address and I'm sure you can work something out."

"Who?"

"He's a fencer of rare artifacts with unique endowments. I'm pretty sure he would have at least heard of your Angel killer since most importing and exporting goes through this guy."

"Thanks, Art."

"Don't thank me yet. Find the fucking thing and get rid of it. I like my world as it is."

~*~*~*

A short while later I stood outside a motel room with the numbers "423" stained into the surface, the numbers had long since fallen off and never been replaced. I raised my arm about to knock when I happened to notice the frame was splintered around the lock.

I called Art and he answered after only one ring. "Somebody busted in recently, Art. The door's all fucked up like somebody kicked it open."

"Honestly not surprised. He has many clients with many reasons to hate him. Have you checked inside yet?"

"No. I'm going in now."

I pushed the door open but it got stuck on something only halfway. I squeezed in through the crack and was assailed with the smell of rotting meat. It hit the back of my throat causing me to gag.

"What's going on?" Art asked urgently.

"Don't know yet. Too dark to see."

"You can't even see in the DARK? What kind of demon..."

My hand finally landed on the light switch and I saw the truth of what lay before me. "He's dead, Art,"I said, softly. My gaze probed the shadows checking for any danger.

"Are you sure it's him? What does he look like?"

"Well, this bit by the tv looks a little like spaghetti sauce and this bigger piece looks kind of like raspberry jam. Weirdly enough there are even little things that look like seeds. Huh."

"Okay. I get it. Maybe look around for his computer or a notebook where he may keep records?"

"Right..." I said. It looked as if the guy was shoved into a blender with the lid left off. Most of what was left was currently occupying most of the ceiling.

As carefully as I could I maneuvered around the mess and started to search for anything that could help me. A loud thump from the bathroom made me let out a startled yip, my head snapping up in that direction. The door was closed and I could hear some kind of scratching at the other side.

"What now?" Art inquired, the noise so loud that even he could hear it.

"I don't know... there's something big in his bathroom trying to get out."

For whatever insane reason I pressed my ear against the door and listened. At that moment I was the cat and curiosity had a sniper rifle scope aimed at my head. Some sort of panting and... whining?

"Who is it?" I called.

It went deathly quiet then, the only sound was my blood roaring in my ears and my ragged breathing. Too late, I tried to move back when the door broke down on top of me like a piece of wet cardboard. Something heavy landed on top of it and me while I lay there wheezing trying to catch my breath. I pushed up and to the side shoving whatever it was off of me and getting into a defensive stance.

"Riel? Riel! What's happening?" Art's frantic shouting came from somewhere off to my left, my phone sent flying on impact.

A hellhound stood before me, the biggest most terrifying hound I'd ever seen. His shoulder was even with my chest, his lipless jaws permanently bared in a snarl like all hellhounds. His muscles rippled beneath his oily black fur as he shook himself off, his dead white eyes focusing on me momentarily before he noticed the gruesome remains plastered overhead.

Hellhounds were intelligent, emotional beings that protected their masters no matter the cost to their own lives. What I was seeing now was unmistakable regret in the beast's face upon seeing the remains. It could only mean that the hound belonged to the dead man and had been trapped in the bathroom unable to do anything while he listened to his master being slaughtered. His murder had to have been over in seconds otherwise the hound would have managed to break the door down.

"I'm sorry," I said keeping my voice gentle and comforting. The hound lowered his head and stared at me for the longest time until I took a tentative step towards him.

He showed no signs of aggression as I approached and I slowly reached for him. My fingers met with surprisingly soft fur at the back of his neck as I gave him a caress trying to calm him. He seemed disturbingly aware, his face capable of almost human expression. It was creeping me the fuck out to be perfectly honest.