“What camps?” Blood drained from her rosy face.
Poor mortal, firmly grounded in the Before. “Army war camps, Miss DeLuca. Not to worry, you will graduate to the training camp at the lower level of the House, where you may experience them.”
“I can’t wait.”
I frowned and rounded the corner. “Sarcasm?”
“Certainly,” she said.
“Mocking me too?”
“It’s fun.”
Growling, I walked faster.
The coffee shop’s bell chimed as people started spilling out of the place to see the mob that followed us. I turned and faced the mob on the street, then counted. Seventy-four mortals gathered, some raising voices, demanding the reason for Habib’s death. Guardians landed on the rooftops, spears and other weapons poised to kill if the mob suddenly decided to execute their own form of justice. Just like in the old days. They demanded answers, and I demanded a pleasant morning with my companion.
“I will take a coffee with whipped cream,” I said. “To go. And so shall you.”
“Um, do you have any money?”
Fuck.
The mob stilled. I saw the moment a woman in the front remembered. Her eyes widened and she said, “Money.”
“Money, money, money,” the mob chanted as if enthralled.
“Oh God, no. Oh no,” Julia gripped my hand and tried to pull me inside the shop. Eyes on the mob, I wouldn’t move.
“Don’t,” she said. “I beg you, don’t. I won’t say a word anymore. Ever.” She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. “Cut it off. Please, don’t kill them.”
“Coffee, Julia. Whipped cream. Ask for it, and it shall be given to you. The barista’s name is Mr. Hayet, cousin of Mr. Habib. You may practice your compassion and begging on him. It is wasted on me.” I opened the door and ushered her inside, closed it, and slid the lock in place.
Julia gripped the handle, twisted and turned. “You’re ruthless!” She banged on the glass.
“I am Michael,” I shouted back. “Faced with the enemy, I show no fear or mercy. And neither will you.”
Julia remained there, and just when I thought she’d stay and watch, she spun on the heel of her new fur-lined boots and approached the counter, where Mr. Hayet pretended I wasn’t here. When I turned toward the mob, I knew I’d find them gazing into space as Lucifer worked on occupying their minds. Black fog crept down the street, reached them, swirled around their feet. “Money, money,” they chanted.
On the roofs, the mortals’ Guardians stood, ready to strike. I raised my hand. “Not yet,” I said in Heavlense and waited. The black fog reached the people, engulfed them, but didn’t extend to Julia inside the shop. Perhaps she was immune to Lucifer’s reach. She’d be the first. I signaled the Guardians to move in and walked inside the shop, the screams of the Marked mortals following me inside. Then, blessed silence.
Mr. Hayet slipped into the back, and the patrons lowered their gazes. At the counter for condiments, Julia stared at the two cardboard coffee cups. I approached slowly, allowing my front to touch her back. Bending slightly, I grabbed the lids and covered the cups. Her hair smelled like vanilla. I hated the smell. It reminded me of Lucifer. But I inhaled a lungful anyway. “You smell like evil,” I said.
Julia snorted. “You act evil.”
I pursed my lips. “I do what is necessary.”
“Is it over? Did you kill them all?”
Soldiers received my praise, encouragement, and hard training. I should train her harder than any other. And yet, I covered her cold hands with mine. We held the cups. Briefly. Julia slid her hands from underneath mine and turned around. When she lifted her eyes, they brimmed with unshed tears. “I’m going back. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Certainly.” When I didn’t move, she sidestepped me. I grabbed both coffees and followed her outside, where the mob was no more. Not a trace of them or the blood they surely shed as the Guardians dumped them deep into the sea for the hungry fish with gaping mouths, awaiting their meal. We fed them well.
Julia snatched her coffee and started hiking up the street. Her feet must hurt by now, but she was determined to get away from me, even started jogging a bit. I surveyed the area. Finding mortals avoiding me, moving about their business as usual, I jogged after her. I didn’t dare approach lest I get coffee thrown in my face. Besides, Julia’s behind moved in a pleasant way, and so I watched the globes of her ass shift, then popped open the lid and stuck my tongue out, anticipating the cream’s taste.
Julia spun around. “Stop following me.”
Tongue out, cream on it, I stopped. An awkward moment as she stared at me. I tasted the cream, then popped the lid back on. “You won’t make it up the mountain.”
“Fuck you, Michael.”
The traffic stopped, and mortals stared.
I narrowed my eyes.
She narrowed hers.
My wings flared, and I swept her up. She screamed and threw a hand around my neck, legs winding around my waist, her face buried in my chest. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m sorry. Don’t drop me.”
Heading for the House, I smiled.
Chapter Eleven
Unaccustomed to the weight of a human attachment, I executed an imperfect landing and spilled my coffee. Precious whipped cream plopped right on my landing post. Annoyed, I sighed. Julia pried her body away from mine, and as her feet touched the ground, she licked her coffee-stained fingers. I followed the movement of her tongue. She’d asked me to cut it off. Not a chance.
Thoughts of carnal pleasure swirled in my mind, igniting my blood, and my shaft lifted, confirming this mortal was indeed meant for me. I sipped what was left of my coffee, only then seeing “Commandhole” written on my cup.
“Did you come up with the name, or did the barista write it?” I swallowed the unsweetened brew and pointed at the name.
Julia ignored me. Instead, she asked, “What happened to those people?”
“They drowned.”
Her breath hitched.
I lost her. I knew I lost her, and I had to remedy it
