Chapter 24 – Jessica
Paris
C an’t believe I’m having coffee and croissants in Paris’ artsy district. After four years in Hell, though, I’d even take Death Valley. Heck, I'd take a burnt ‘Bucks drip from a drive-thru.
“So you don’t think the bad people are here in Paris?” I ask Sariel, wiping a crumb off my chin and sighing with contentment.
“Bad people? What are you, five?” He shakes his head and tugs on my ponytail.
After watching the hottest live sex show ever and fifteen more hours of sleep, I spent two hours in Sariel’s bathtub, scrubbing every inch of myself in the world’s bubbliest bubble bath.
“But, no,” he continues, his gaze now on the angel with us – not having any coffee, but observing the throng of tourists and the art displays – so handsome in his borrowed human clothing. “The compound where Arma… their compound was in the south of France. We heard intel about a warehouse in Marseille and were about to check it out when… yeah.”
I place my hand on top of the Fallen’s, his eyes hidden by opaque sunglasses. I have no idea how they managed to go unnoticed from wherever the rift was to Sar’s apartment in filthy armor and carrying an unconscious woman. His broken speech and effort to avoid mentioning Armaros’ death out loud show me how raw the wound still is for him. I heard from Lana that they were more than just friends.
On my other side, Itha grabs Sariel’s shoulder, completing the circle. A young woman from the neighboring table throws us a curious glance before turning back to her book. I squint to read the title. Their Darkest Desire by Amaya Jax. I’ve read that – Lana has Maalik bringing all sorts of smut down to Purgatory for years. If the woman only knew paranormal creatures are already right next to her.
“What is the best way to get to Marseille?” Itha asks, breaking the silence. “I don’t think flying is possible among humans anymore. Their technology is too advanced.”
I shake my head. “Hell, no. We’d be on the news before you could say ‘They are among us – call Mulder and Scully.’”
Sariel smirks. “She’s right; they’d think aliens way before angels . E.T.’s on the TV way more than Jesus.”
“So that leaves us with…? Isn’t Marseille on the other side of France?” I chew on my bottom lip, mentally preparing for an all-night road trip. Though I bet Sariel owns some sexy cars, if his luxury apartment is anything to go by.
“If we take the TGV, we’ll be there in three hours,” he says as if it’s already decided.
“What is the TGV?” Itha asks and I nod along with the question.
“It’s the bullet train here. It’s fast as fuck, comfortable, there’s food and the view doesn’t suck either.”
So, it’s decided. After two more coffees, as befits an addict as deprived as I was, we take the metro to Gare de Lyon. I love listening to Sariel speak French. While I had French at school and passed the classes, he uses it like he was born here. I guess it makes sense since he was around at its inception. If anyone finds it weird that the two men with me are wearing sunglasses in the underground metro, they don’t show it. Everyone seems to be minding their own business.
Sariel finds two empty seats and pulls me into his lap, patting the other for Itha to join. I tip the angel’s chin up and lean down to give him a soft kiss. After a few seconds, I can feel Sar hardening under my ass. It’s gonna be awkward when we get up.
“We should come here once we’re done,” I whisper against Ithuriel’s lips. “If Maalik and Daniel will let me. Head up to the Eiffel Tower. Visit the catacombs. Oh, and I always wanted to see Versailles and the Louvre.” I squirm in excitement, making Sariel grunt a warning. Flushing, I freeze, looking around to see if we’re drawing any gazes. Surprisingly, no one cares that we’re an obvious threesome.
I take a longer look at the people around us. I’m not sure how I feel being surrounded by just normal humans, no leather armor, no weapons, no orange glow of Hell. I always thought I’d be overwhelmed by emotion if I could come back here. Now, I think I’m so anchored by the two angels with me that my feelings don’t have a chance to drag me away. Before them, I was afloat in Detroit, afloat in Hell, and would have been afloat here too.
Sariel interrupts my thoughts by squeezing my thigh. “We have to change lines at the next stop.”
We shuffle back up to the surface, preferring a slightly longer walk on ground level, to a shorter one in the underground passages. We’ve all spent long enough without the human sky.
But I almost regret the decision halfway to the next station. Just as we’re walking past a famous sandwich chain, I do a double-take and nearly run into Itha as my head’s on a swivel.
“Did that woman… just lift her skirt to pee right there?”
Sariel covers my eyes and pushes me onward. “Sometimes the human world is as bad as Hell, poppet.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“I guess that explains these squiggles of dried liquid over the ground.” I wrinkle my nose.
“The tourist areas are much nicer,” Sariel promises. “And you’ll love Provence. It’s warm, smells like herbs… and overpriced soap. There’s fields of lavender, like something from a screensaver. Those make the place smell like a fancy candle. There’s lots of rosé and overpriced food. But don’t worry, I’ll be your sugar daddy.” He winks at me before bopping my nose.
I sigh wistfully. I haven’t smelled nice things in too long. “It sounds like Heaven,” I say.
Itha scoffs. “There are no violent humans in Heaven.”
I bug my eyes out and look to Sar for an explanation.
“Well, there’s a lot of drug and gang-related violence in Marseille. I’m guessing Belial’s cultists fit right in.”
Huh. No wonder Simone high-tailed it out of there. She told us she was from New Orleans and no one questioned her French accent. She was always skittish, like she was running away from something and it hit us that much harder when she disappeared and we thought she was dead.
Though it turned out she was kidnapped by another archdemon, Asmodeus, and became his baby momma. I need the story there like I need air. And these hotter than Hell – pun intended – archdemons need to stop going all veni vidi vici on our soldiers. Though Kevin, another teammate, got accosted by a succubus. Last I knew, he was still moping around Abaddon, missing her. I wonder if he admitted it to her yet – or at least himself.
“Earth to Jessica,” Sariel murmurs into my hair. “Where were you?”
“In a soap opera.” I smirk at my own wittiness. If you can’t amuse yourself, what’s even the point? Grinning, I hold my hand out for Ithuriel to hold. We may be heading into danger, but right now I’m in (mostly) beautiful Paris, with subjectively the hottest two males on the planet.