Chapter Forty-Five
I woke up in the hospital with Dr. Paulson looking down at me. “Good to see you awake,” he said, smiling.
“Good to be awake,” I said; my voice sounded rough as if I’d been out longer than I realized.
I don’t know if he saw it on my face, but he answered my question. “You’ve been unconscious for almost two days.”
“How bad?” I asked, and looked down at myself. I had expected my hand to be in bandages, but it wasn’t. I remembered the fangs biting into me; that shouldn’t have healed in two days.
“The officers who came to try to rescue you and the other policeman said you were on fire, but it gave off no heat and cast no shadows. I’d love to know how you conjured fire to kill the demon without setting the building and yourself ablaze.”
“It was holy fire, and I’ve walked through it before, so I knew I would be fine.”
“Mark Cookson’s body wasn’t fine; the other police saw it burn, but there was nothing left of it.”
“The Infernal can’t survive the touch of holy flame,” I said.
“The dead police officer’s body was intact and unharmed, though the witnesses aren’t sure why it didn’t burn.”
“Stevens was dead; he couldn’t be afraid of the holy flame and its messengers, and he must have been a good person when he was alive,” I said.
“From all accounts he was,” Paulson said. He then proceeded to check me top to bottom to see if there were any lingering effects from what had happened. At the end he said, “You are remarkably well for someone who was attacked by a demon and burned with holy fire.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t think it’s me you should be thanking.”
“You’re right,” I said, and sent a prayer of gratitude to God and the angels, though I was careful not to think too hard about the latter. I did not need another visitation.
“Your lieutenant is outside waiting for me to give him permission to see you. Are you up to answering questions about what happened?”
“Yes,” I said.
He shook his head. “I knew you would say that, but talk fast, because you need to rest.”
“I thought I wasn’t hurt?”
“You don’t seem to be, but you were unconscious for almost forty-eight hours, that makes me cautious.”
“I feel fine.”
“All your wounds are healed, even the arm and stomach,” he said.
“Why don’t you look happier about that?” I asked.
“Raise up your hospital gown and look at your right arm,” he said.
It was an odd request, but I did what he asked, because it was simple, and he had that look that you never want to see on your doctor’s face. The one just before they told you something you didn’t want to hear about your health or someone else’s.
I pushed up the sleeve and there was what looked like a tattoo in a band that encircled my arm just below the shoulder.
It was pale blue and looked tribal. I touched my skin and it felt like it always felt.
I closed my eyes and ran my fingertips over my skin, and there it was, the slightest of texture differences. I opened my eyes and stared at it.
“You didn’t have a tattoo there when I treated you for the demon attack at the hospital,” Dr. Paulson said.
“I don’t have any tattoos,” I said.
He motioned toward my arm. “You do now.”
I stared at it, and he handed me his phone with pictures of the outside of my arm. “I figured you’d want to see them and I’d rather you not rush to the bathroom mirror just yet.”
I stared at the pictures.
“It looks like a stylized tribal monster,” he said.
“It’s a demon,” I said.
“You sound certain, tribal isn’t usually that realistic.”
“I’ve seen it before,” I said.
“Where?”
“One of the instructors at the College of Angels had one exactly like it. He said it was supposed to represent a successful fight and slaying of a demon. I thought it was more metaphorical.”
“I thought what all you Angel Speakers did was carry messages for God. I didn’t think you got on the front lines of the battle between good and evil.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said, still staring at the pictures of my arm—my arm.
Master Donel had a shoulder cap above this tattoo and more bands decorating down his arm.
They were supposed to represent the path of the Seven Archangels.
There was the Archangels pattern in Kali, which was one of the styles that Master Donel taught, part of his Filipino heritage, but staring at the pictures I realized that maybe what I had taken for metaphor in studying the Archangels had been far more real.
Had Donel known this was coming? Is that why he asked Turmiel to reach out to me about finding his sister?
I would find her and that would give me an opening to speak with Donel, or at least with Turmiel.
I couldn’t go back to the College of Angels, especially not now.
The seraphim had come to my aid with Her at their head.
She was awake and active after years of being locked in meditation with God, that was how they had put it.
She had been meditating and trying to decide if She would repent or fall.
Had what happened two days ago already changed Her decision or forced Her to choose? God, I hoped not.
“You look shaken,” Paulson said.
“I’m okay.”
“If it had been a real tattoo it would still be healing and sore,” he said.
“I’ve seen other people heal from them, but never done it myself.
” Reggie had tattoos when I met her, and I remembered that the seraphim—no, one seraph in particular—had asked me to come home, and home had been Reggie and Connery.
Did I remember Her being sad that I loved someone else, that I had a child? Or had I dreamed that part?
“I’ll go tell your lieutenant that physically you’re fine. He’s been wanting to ask you some questions about what happened.”
I handed him back his phone. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Are you up to questions, Detective?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t looking at him or even seeing the room.
I was trying to remember something that had happened, but it was like the harder I tried to remember all the details once I had taken us into angelic space, the fuzzier it all got.
The mind protects us from trauma; if I was meant to remember I would, but if not I needed to believe that it was for the best. No, I didn’t believe it was for the best; I felt like something was being hidden from me.
“I’ll go tell Charleston you’re up for questions if you’re sure?”
I blinked up at him, rubbing my arm, though it didn’t hurt at all. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Paulson looked like he didn’t believe me, but he went to get Charleston.
I answered questions from Charleston and later from Internal Affairs, because there was one dead uniformed officer.
Mark Cookson’s body didn’t come back with me.
It had burned up in the holy fire, and the demon with it.
The fire of God is the only thing that can destroy the “immortal,” even demonic.
I was just lucky that the jewelry store security tapes caught it all.
The demon killing Stevens, and the fire burning around us.
Our bodies had stayed in the store the whole time and looked frozen until the fire started.
If the tapes hadn’t proven my story, IA would have been far less forgiving.
I mean, who would believe that a cop could call holy fire and burn up a demon.
I hadn’t explained the details of what I’d done.
Internal Affairs wasn’t big on mysticism; better to keep the answers simple for the report.
The demonically enchanted bottle had vanished on the trip from our unit to the Magical Forensics Section in the Medical Examiner’s office.
The containment box had just been sitting open and empty when they opened the back of the enchanted armored car.
If it could help one demon climb out of Hell, then it could help another one.
The clairvoyants are searching for it, but so far it remains hidden.
I suggested he contact Suriel at the College and he already had, but so far no reply.
If the College continued to ignore us Charleston made noise about me contacting them directly.
Apparently I went pale because he stopped talking about it.
Suriel I wanted to see again, and even Turmiel and Harshiel, but the College as a whole—no.
Turmiel got access to a phone, because he texted me that the angels had healed Harshiel.
When I tried to question Turmiel about the demonic bottle loose in our city he said he’d try to talk to Suriel, but he promised nothing.
I tried to text him back, but he wasn’t there.
Apparently he’d borrowed the phone of this nice young lady, and that was all she knew.
She did mention that Turmiel was so cute, I’d agreed and hung up.
The day I got out of the hospital Reggie came to drive me to my apartment.
I’d known she was coming to pick me up, because otherwise I’d have arranged for someone else to drive me home.
What I hadn’t expected was that she was wearing one of my favorite outfits.
The short, tight black skirt that I hadn’t seen on her in over a year, with the tall black boots that she’d worn to couples therapy last time.
I’d wondered then if she had just forgotten how much I loved her in the boots, but now I knew she hadn’t forgotten anything.
She turned around and I realized the black top was a halter, showing her tattoo of vines and flowers as the only color in the black outfit.
The colors were soft and beautiful against her skin.
She hadn’t liked wearing halter tops after her breasts got bigger and stayed bigger after we had Connery.
She insisted on wearing a bra all the time now, but here she stood in a halter top, with my favorite boots climbing her long legs, and the skirt she’d stopped wearing because she was a mother now and what if her students saw her out dressed like a hooker?
I got to the makeup and red lipstick eventually, but this time she didn’t get mad because I didn’t look at her face first. Her smile let me know that my face showed her everything she’d wanted to see on it.
“You missed our lunch and our date,” she said.
“I’m sorry, you don’t know how sorry I am that I missed seeing you.”
She gave me that Valentine’s Day promise smile. “I missed you, too.”
My heart did a flip that if I’d still been hooked up to monitors would have probably brought the medical staff on the run.
“This doesn’t mean we’re back together; I’m sorry but I’m not ready.”
I wasn’t sure if my heart stopped beating for a second or just slid down into my feet. I fought not to look disappointed or to assume based on the outfit she was wearing, but it was hard. She wasn’t a sadist, and to wear that outfit to pick me up and not be back together was definitely sadistic.
“I guess seeing me in the hospital just confirmed a lot of your fears,” I said, and my voice wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t angry either and that was the best I could do.
“I’m still scared of your job, but when I saw you in the bed before the doctors knew if you’d wake up, I realized there was something else I’m more afraid of than losing you because you get hurt on the job.”
“What are you more afraid of?”
“Losing you out of my life and out of Connery’s life, because I’m too chickenshit to be a cop’s wife.”
“You’re one of the bravest people I know, Reggie.”
“No, I’m not, I’m really not, but I’m going to try to be.”
“Thanks for driving me today.”
“If I was really brave, I’d drive you to the house, so you’d be there for Connery when he gets out of preschool, but I’m not there yet.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“No, not really, but I understand that I just got hurt on the job and that’s one of your worst fears. Hard to take me home after that.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Zaniel.”
“You won’t lose me,” I said.
“Did you ask the doctor if there are any physical restrictions, anything you’re not supposed to do for a few days?”
“Not drive today, and not go in to work for a few more days; if I get dizzy going up stairs or doing anything to let him know, but I should be fine.”
“Did you ask about sex?”
“No, I only asked about things I’d be doing sooner,” I said. I fought to keep any hope or speculation off my face.
Reggie looked at me; it was a long look, and then she smiled and slid her hands down her body from the halter top to the tops of the boots hugging her thighs. She stared at me the entire time so she could watch my face.
“I don’t want to assume anything here,” I said.
That full, red mouth smiled like the serpent must have smiled at Eve. “I think it’s time we tried out the new bed at your apartment, don’t you?”
I didn’t trust what I’d say, so I just nodded, smiled back like an idiot, and hit the NURSE CALL button. I stood up. “I’ll go find my doctor.”
“You sit down and rest, I’ll go find the doctor,” she said.
“I feel fine,” I said.
“Rest while you can, Zaniel, because once we get to your apartment the plan is to exhaust us both.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and let her go find the doctor, because conservation of energy suddenly sounded like a great idea.