Chapter 22 Trust Me, I’ve Been Lying
Trust Me, I've Been Lying
“Should I be concerned about that?” Chuck asked, pointing her fork at Reena. The chuglet menace was sitting at Malachi’s feet, growling and grumbling as she gnawed at the chunk of steak he had slipped her.
“Nah,” he replied lazily as he cut another bite of the perfectly cooked meat.
Slipping it into his mouth, he closed his eyes in bliss while he chewed.
Swallowing, he gazed adoringly at Chuck.
“Man, I love a woman who knows how to grill a damn good steak. But no, don’t worry about Reena.
She’s just killing her prey, so she doesn’t feel as weak about it being given to her. ”
Reena raised her head and snarled at him lightly, her opinion clear about his words.
He chuckled. “Don’t give me that Re-re. You have little dog syndrome, and you know it.”
Snorting in amusement, Chuck shook her head. “Weirdos. Both of you. Anyway, time to come clean. You don’t need to eat, but you can and seem to enjoy it. And what was with the disappearing act this morning and all that stuff about them being after me? Who’s after me? Do they know I carry a gun?”
Pausing with a bite halfway to his lips, he stared at her.
The visual of her in uniform with her gun was always a favorite.
At her humming noise, he blinked and shoved the fork in his mouth, chewing slowly as he prepared himself to disclose the shock of her life.
Finally, he set the utensils down and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair.
“Chuck,” he sighed. “I’m going to tell you some things that are going to be hard to believe and are probably going to upset you. Please remember, I’m here for you, and I will help you through this, the same way you helped me.”
“You. Dog. Glenda. Witch. I’m good,” she replied, reminding him that her suspension of belief was in full effect.
Leaning his head back, he briefly closed his eyes. With an even heavier sigh, he opened them and locked his gaze with hers. “Okay, Chuck. Do you believe in Hell? H-Heaven? Angels and demons?”
“I think it’s a little late to be discussing our religious preferences.
” She smirked. When his expression remained steady, her gaze grew wary, and she lowered her elbows from the table, now gripping the edge of the wooden surface tightly.
“You mean like, literal Heaven and Hell? Real angels and demons? As in they exist, not just as a construct or metaphor?”
He nodded silently.
Blowing air steadily between her pursed lips, she dipped her head slowly. “I mean, I guess I didn’t before, but these last few months have really thrown a wrench into things. Alright, let’s say on the surface I do. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” he murmured. He reached across the table and took her hands, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Chuck, your dad—”
She snatched her hands back before he got any further and stood quickly. Rushing around the table, she crouched next to him, digging her fingers into his thigh. “My dad?” her voice waivered. “What do you know?”
Shaking his head, he stood and pulled her up with him. “You need to sit, Chuck. This isn’t going to be easy to hear.”
Her head whipped side to side in denial. “No. You tell me!” Her finger stabbed into his chest. “You tell me right now, Malachi! Was my father targeted? Was it premeditated murder?”
Unable to stop himself as her eyes filled with tears, he wrapped her against his body and placed his cheek on hers. Whispering in her ear, his breath hitched as he simply gave her the one word that would change it all. “Yes.”
Malachi had expected wails and sobs, harsh crying and pleas to Heaven for answers.
He should have known better. Chuck’s hands gripped him tightly for a moment, and a shudder rippled over her smaller frame.
Then she straightened and met his gaze. Her eyes were liquid pools of chocolate as she stared at him, then she nodded once, blinked away her tears, and, through clenched teeth, demanded, “Tell me the rest.”
Leading her to the couch, their dinner forgotten, he motioned for her to sit while he retrieved the bag with the files and then their wine glasses.
When he returned, he gently lowered himself next to her with the tote on his lap.
“Okay, Chuck, you remember when you were telling me… well, the furry me before you realized I was a man in a… anyway, you were telling me about your father and how you were suspicious of how he died. You mentioned the feathers and the ring of soot. Remember?” He eyed her warily, watching for any signs she’d reached the decision he was crazy. Her gaze remained firmly locked on his.
“I remember,” she offered steadily.
“Well, I’ve seen that before,” he admitted, scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. “The feathers were part of him. The ring of soot happens when… well… when grace leaves the body.”
“Grace? Part of him how?”
“Part of him… as in…” A small, frustrated groan slipped from his throat.
“Look, there’s no way to ease into it, so I’m just gonna say it.
Chuck, your dad was an angel. The feathers were from his wings.
” He paused, searching her face and seeing only grim acceptance, and kept going.
“You can’t kill an angel through ordinary methods.
You have to use a special type of weapon.
I suspect he was killed with a forsaken blade.
That’s why there was a ring of ash around him.
It charred his grace and pulled it from him, leaving him mortal, and then he died.
Forsaken blades aren’t just any basic sword.
You can’t get one at your local pawn shop.
Whoever did this knew what they had and knew who—or rather what—your dad was.
It was a hit. And Chuck,”—he pulled her limp, cold fingers into his lap—“I’m worried about you. I think they’ll come after you next.”
Chuck’s eyes closed briefly, and she swallowed hard. When she opened them again, she curled her fingers into his, then leaned towards him. “Why me?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice betraying her steadfast gaze.
“Y-you believe me?” he sputtered incredulously, reeling back the explanations he was prepared to make to gain her understanding. Admiration swirled through him as he stared in awe.
“I always believe you, Malachi. I trust you with my life. You’re my partner,” was her simple explanation, the gold in her aura lending truth to her words.
Malachi sat in silence, studying her. His gut was churning with anxiety, agonizing about all the ways he had been lying to her.
Directly and by omission. He didn’t deserve her simple belief.
The warmth her words built in his heart was quickly doused by the icy wave of guilt ripping through him like a tornado.
To his horror, his eyes went hot, and he panicked slightly, not understanding why.
“Chuck!” he demanded frantically and yanked his hands from hers, touching his face. “What is this?”
Chuck smiled softly and lifted his hands from his cheeks, brushing her thumb under one eye. She showed him the dampness on her thumb. “You’re crying, Malachi. Do you not…” she stared at him in quiet contemplation. “Did you not realize that’s what you were doing? Have you never cried before?”
He shuddered and sucked in a deep breath, holding it and trying to regain his composure. He was a demon. A lieutenant of the sixth ward. He commanded his own legion and seduced with his incubus power. He was night, he was darkness, he was… so royally fucked.
He was crying, sobbing now.
He was trusted.
Cared for.
Believed.
Grabbing him by the shoulders, Chuck pulled him down to her.
His head on her chest, she wrapped her arms tightly around his trembling body and held him.
She whispered softly, words of comfort, reassurances.
Running her fingers through his hair, she rocked him slowly.
“It’s okay. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. ”
“I don’t deserve your friendship. Your trust,” he mumbled against her neck as his tears slowly subsided.
“Shut the fuck up,” she insisted, grinning as his eyes snapped up to her in shock.
“You do too, Malachi. Whatever you’ve done in the past, whatever you did to end up as a dog, I know you are a good person deep down in your soul.
I see it in your actions every day. The way you care about Reena, the job.
” She ran her fingers over his cheek. “About me.”
Malachi watched as Chuck leaned closer, her lips parting slightly, trembling the smallest amount.
Her breath hitched, and he realized she was about to kiss him.
He sat up quickly and ground the heels of his hands over his eyes.
Both to wipe away the tear-stained evidence of how far he’d strayed from his heritage, and to block the flash of disappointment he knew was covering her face.
He could feel it coming from her in waves.
This was why he was here. To seduce her, gain her trust, and besmirch her soul, her grace.
He finally had the opportunity, and he was backing away.
He couldn’t bring himself to let her fall.
She deserved better, and warmth filled him as he firmed it in his mind.
He’d rather die a final death than let her suffer because of him.
Decision made, he knew; he had to tell her all of it.