The Liberator

“What’d you think? That He’d look the other way while you partied your ass off?” Valery shoves the envelope against my chest. “You haven’t sealed a single soul for heaven, Dante. You were practically begging for an assignment.”

Beside me, I can almost feel Charlie brighten. She’s been praying for something to get me off my sin spiral. And now her wish has been granted.

I cringe and step away from the envelope like it has chlamydia. “Tell Big Guy I’ll take a pass.”

“Actually, this comes with a message from Him.” Valery glances at Charlie, then back at me. “You’re on probation.”

“Probation?” I say, laughing. “Ooh, I’m friggin’ terrified.”

And I am. Terrified. Because I’m a badass, but he’s like…you know…God.

“You have two options,” Valery says, ignoring my mockery. “You can either complete this assignment or turn in your cuff.”

My hands curl into fists. “Wow, those are generous options. So I can do His bidding or I can die a final death? Real nice.”

Valery shrugs. “You didn’t leave Him much choice.” She holds the envelope out again, and this time I take it. In my drunken state, I imagine it burns my hand. Maybe it does. Who knows?

“Max says hi,” Valery finishes before heading to her car.

Charlie’s eyes are round with surprise. We both knew I worked for Big Guy now, but I don’t think either of us was prepared for this. She recovers quickly, reaching up on her tiptoes and nuzzling my neck. “This will be great, you’ll see,” she says. “Come back in when you’re ready.” She kisses her fingers and presses them to my lips. Then she goes inside and closes the door behind her.

I stare down at the envelope in my hand. For several minutes, I just stand there, drunk and swaying and panicking about what it’ll say. Then I snap the hell out of my trance and pull myself together. How bad could it be?

I tear the envelope open, rip out the sheet of paper, and start reading.

And then I laugh.

Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to cold-ass Denver to liberate a girl named Aspen.

2 Sumo Wrestler

Valery is climbing into her car, a black Mercedes S500, when I realize there’s something else inside the envelope. I reach in and pull out a pair of small, curved ivory things that look like horns. One is slightly larger than the other, and both confuse the hell out of me.

I call out to Valery, “Hey, Red.”

She turns and looks at me, making a face like she’s simultaneously asking me what I want and cursing my existence.

“What are these?” I hold up the horns.

“How should I know?” She shrugs. I think she’s about to drop down into her car, but she pauses and glances over the top of the hood, the look in her eyes softening. “They’re from your father.”

Valery disappears from view, starts the engine of her Mercedes, and pulls away. I had more questions for her, questions she’s dismissed for weeks. But right now they don’t seem so important. Not when I’m staring at the horns in my palm. From my father, she’d said. My father, who died in a car crash minutes before I did. The guy I’ve seen only once since.

As I think of him, my chest feels like it’s on fire. He’s given me these two crescent-shaped things, and I have no earthly idea what they are. The fact that he left anything for me blows my mind. Doing this, it’s like he cares. Thinking of my dad also reminds me of my mom—of how Rector was dating her in order to learn more about me, and to show me he could get close to those I care about. My dad told me he had that issue nipped in the bud. I’m not sure how, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Pops will make sure that bastard doesn’t get near her again. Game over.

Overhead, I hear a knock. Glancing up, I spot Charlie standing in the window, her slight figure framed by the glow of a lamp. I grip the ivory horns and slip them into my pocket. All I want to do is keep Charlie Cooper safe, because even though her soul was taken by collectors, that doesn’t mean the same guys won’t come for her body, too. But protecting her seems impossible when no one will tell me what the H is going on.

I don’t understand why I can’t turn Charlie’s soul in to heaven yet.

And I really don’t understand why every time I ask Valery about these things, she acts like I just told her I’m rubbing bellies with her mom. Like I’m the jerk for asking questions.

Charlie waves from her window, and I raise my hand. She motions for me to come up, and I want nothing more than to do just that. So I push my questions aside for now and head toward her room. She’s sitting on the bed, and despite the thoughts clogging my head, my body reacts to seeing her there. She’s wearing this white, lacy gown that chicks usually only wear in movies, and she looks so innocent, I could scream. I want to protect this girl from all the terrible things in the world, but at the same time, I want to do all kinds of terrible things to her. Most involve the bed she’s sitting on. Or the floor. I’m not picky.

“Are you going to do it?” she asks, pulling her blond hair over her shoulder.

“Ravage you? Yes.”

She smiles, but her eyes fall to the floor. “You know what I mean.”

I cross the room and sit next to her, fighting the impulse to tear that sweet-as-cream nightgown from her body. “I don’t want to think about it.”

I look at her, and she meets my gaze. I expect to her say that I must. That I don’t really have a choice. But instead, all she says is, “Then don’t. Just go to sleep.” Her grin widens. “With me.”

My eyebrow hitches up.

She laughs. “That’s not what I mean.”

But it’s too late. I scoop her into my arms and cover her body with mine. Before I press my lips over her mouth, I stop and look at her. Really look at her. With my thumbs, I brush the hair away from her cheeks. Then I run my eyes over her face, her neck, her delicate shoulders. She looks like a doll. And even though she’s perfection now, I remember the way she was—her thick glasses, her crooked smile, her cheeks that blazed red when she was excited. It’s ridiculous, but sometimes I miss those things.

I lean down and kiss the space between her collarbones. Then I brush my lips across her neck and move toward her ear.

“Dante,” she whispers. I stop instantly because I already know what she needs.

Lifting my head, I see I’m right. There are tears in her eyes, and I think I might lose my mind when one slips down the side of her face toward the pillow. “It’s okay,” I say gently. I move behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. Then I pull her against me and let her cry.

I let her mourn the loss of her friend, of Blue, who died at the hands of a collector.

Charlie is like this many nights. During the day she’s fine, but once she’s curled up in bed with time to think, Blue finds a way to slip into her head. Probably doesn’t help that Annabelle, her remaining best friend, has been on lockdown by her parents.

Valery’s presence always sets Charlie off, not that we’ve seen that much of her lately, either. But when all of us are together, I think it’s hard not to remember who else was there that night.

The truth is I mourn Blue’s death, too. I never really liked the guy…until the end. Until I realized he was friggin’ Clark Kent, an undercover Superman who would risk his life for Charlie’s.

It was then I understood we both just wanted the same thing—Charlie’s happiness.

…

When I open my eyes, the sun is trying to murder me. It’s shining on my face and making my head pound. Or maybe it’s my hangover that’s giving me the headache, but nonetheless, me and the sun, we’re not on friendly terms.

“Mmm…” Charlie murmurs beside me. My arms are still wrapped around her waist, and I suddenly realize I