9. Dante

Chapter nine

Dante

W hat the fuck was he?

From the first moment I saw him, I’d known he wasn’t human, but I hadn’t been able to figure out what exactly he was. But after touching the mark—the mark of the angels—everything had become clear.

The birthmark would have been put there to protect him, to shield him from the likes of me. If we’d never met, he would have lived the rest of his life unaware of what he was or the power he could wield.

This was why I was drawn to him. Like attracted like. But while he’d been placed on this earth for whatever purpose, I’d fallen from grace, banished here many, many years ago for all eternity.

My story was well known, but many thought it was a myth, a fairy tale told in years gone by to strike fear into the hearts of men, women, and children.

Little did they know it was true.

I’d gone by many names, performed many roles. People mistakenly thought I lived in hell, and I’d visited on occasion, but my home had always been here on earth, condemning unfit souls, those that were unworthy to ascend to the lofty heights of heaven.

I couldn’t leave him on my floor, nor could I take him back to the basement. Not like this, and for once in my life, I was afraid.

Afraid to touch him.

Was he dead? Had the shock killed him? I bent and tentatively placed my hand on his back. He looked so pale, all colour seeming to have left him.

The gentle rise and fall of his breathing moved my hand up and down.

Not dead, then. That was a relief.

But I didn’t doubt there would be consequences.

My touch would have removed the protection, leaving him exposed. The urge to keep him safe yet at arm’s length warred inside me.

“Stop being a fucking coward and pick him up.” And now I was talking to myself.

I slipped my arms around his back, scooped him up, and carried him swiftly to my bedroom.

I laid him gently on his back, the mark of the angel now a dark red against his white skin. It hadn’t looked like that before.

As he slept, I watched him, unable to tear my eyes away from him. Would he ever wake from the apparent coma he was in?

Was he sleeping or something more? Time would tell.

Goose bumps appeared on his skin, and I manoeuvred him so he was beneath the covers. Slowly colour returned to his cheeks, and his breathing became more even.

Fuck, I needed a drink.

I took one last look and walked back into the lounge. I poured a healthy shot of whisky and drank it in one.

What the fuck was I going to do now?

His clothes were scattered on the floor. I couldn’t leave them there, and he still hadn’t had a shower.

I picked up his clothes, shook them out, and folded them. A brown casino chip dropped on the floor.

It wasn’t one of ours. What was he doing with that?

I placed the clothes on the sofa and eyed the chip, reluctant to touch it with my bare fingers.

With a cloth, I picked it up and held it up to the light.

It warmed my hand, even through the cloth, and looked old and worn, nicked at the edge.

This chip was made of wood, whereas we used plastic ones.

I walked into the bedroom and put it on the nightstand. Maybe it was a lucky charm? Or carried sentimental value.

It didn’t feel right to throw it away.

Austin didn’t seem to have moved and didn’t look to be waking up anytime soon. The plan I had for him would have to wait.

Had things changed since the angel mark? It still didn’t explain his lucky streak, and that was what interested me.

I couldn’t let this get in the way of what I wanted. And what I wanted was answers.

My ego still wouldn’t let me forget how he’d bested me or how he’d escaped. He deserved much more punishment than I was willing to mete out.

But just because he carried the angel mark didn’t mean he was an angel, only that he had their protection.

And that raised even more questions. The answers might lie in his past. Likely, his parents were angels. Probably his mother or grandmother. The angelic line usually moved through females.

Perhaps a visit to his grandfather was in order, but he would want to know where Austin was and why I was keeping him captive.

I checked my watch. It was early afternoon. The casino would have been open for a couple of hours. Normally, I’d make my way down, but today was different. It wasn’t every day an angelic being collapsed on your floor.

I called Conrad.

“Can you come up? I have something to show you.”

The lift opened, and I swung open the door.

“You have to see this.”

I led him into the bedroom and indicated a sleeping Austin.

“What did you do to him? Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

“Hey, what do you take me for?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“He collapsed on the floor. I had to carry him here, but that’s not all. Look.” I pointed to the mark on his chest, still looking raw.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s an angel mark.”

“Nope, still not getting it.” I forgot Conrad didn’t have the knowledge I did, having only been with me for the last five hundred years or so.

“An angel mark is put there for protection. Protection from the likes of me.”

“Still not understanding why he’s in your bed.”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to lose the little patience I had.

“I touched the mark. He passed out. I put him in my bed.”

“Annnddd?”

“I need to know more about him. I especially need to know about his lucky streak, but now this adds another layer to him.”

“So, what do you need me for, boss?”

“Find out what you can about him and his family. Does he have any siblings? Where are his parents? That kind of thing. From what I picked up from him, he lives with his grandfather, but no idea of anything else.”

“Why is it important?”

“It just is. Please do as I ask.”

Austin stirred, a small moan escaping him. A fine sheen of sweat covered him. I touched his arm. He was burning up.

“Here.” Conrad handed me a damp cloth.

I sat on the bed and dabbed at Austin’s brow, trying to cool him down. The mark seemed angrier than before, but I daren’t touch it. Not after what had happened last time.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Conrad left. I carried on bathing Austin until he finally cooled down.

He slept soundly, no longer agitated. In fact, he barely moved. His breathing was so shallow I leant in close to make sure he was still alive.

I had no idea how long I sat beside the bed. Who was he? What was he? All kinds of scenarios ran in my head, but I didn’t come any closer to answers.

Was it a coincidence he’d ended up in my casino? Why did I feel a strange pull towards him? But more than that, why did he need protection?

“Have you even moved?”

I turned. Conrad stood behind me in the now dark room, the only illumination coming from the streetlights outside.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

“I should be downstairs on the floor.”

“It’s fine. I’ve seen to it. There’s nothing for you to do. I assumed you’d still be here, seeing how he seems to have your full attention.”

“Did you find out anything?” I took one last look at Austin and led Conrad into the lounge, flicking on a couple of lamps.

I poured another whiskey and offered one to Conrad. He declined, and I took my glass and gazed over the city.

How many others like him were out there, or was he the only one?

I’d not heard of anyone this century having the mark, so why him? Why indeed?

“Other than a grandfather, he has no living relatives I could find. His mother died when he was six. His father left him a year later. He’s lived with his grandpa, as he calls him, ever since. After a nasty fall, the old man’s ailing, though.”

“Do you have his mother’s name?”

“Not yet. I’d need to dig around a little more to get that information. All I know is he works at a bar in the city and has done for a while. Other than Joel, Pete, and Freddie, he has one other friend. A girl called Amber. He works with her at the bar.”

“So he’s a loner, then.”

“He has a handful of close-knit friends, but that’s it.”

I knew almost less about him now than I had before. Well, nothing useful. It was his past that intrigued me, not the present.

For the first time today, I felt weary.

“I need to sleep.”

The events of last night, coupled with today, had me exhausted.

I couldn’t sleep in my bed, though.

That was occupied by a particularly attractive man who might or might not be an angel.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I’d known there was something about him, but never had I expected him to be the exact opposite of me.

Where I was darkness, he was light. Except that still didn’t feel right to me. The serenity and calm I’d normally associate with angels was missing with Austin.

Yes, he didn’t carry the corruption or immorality I did, but he wasn’t beyond reproach himself. I sensed his misdeeds, as I did with many people.

That awareness helped me decide if they belonged up in the clouds or down with the sinful and wicked.

He had grey areas, traits that would give others pause for consideration.

“Well, you can’t sleep in there.” Conrad’s voice startled me from my thoughts.

He was making up the sofa, plumping the pillows.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Although I was glad he had.

I unlaced my boots and slipped my shirt over my head. My trousers were next, leaving me in my boxers.

“I’ll be back in the morning to see how sleeping beauty is in the other room. Get some sleep, boss. I have a feeling it’s going to be less boring around here for a while.”

He left the apartment, and I turned off the lamps. I pressed the button to close the blinds, leaving the room in semi-darkness, but as tired as I was, sleep evaded me.

I lay awake, listening for any sounds that Austin had woken up, but everything remained silent. Not even the sounds of the casino downstairs infiltrated the apartment.

I’d wished for something exciting, something new. Sometimes you needed to be careful about what you wished for.

Austin had come into my life when I’d thought about moving on. No way I could do that now. If the angel mark had been breached, there was a chance that every demon within five hundred miles would sense him and come here.

I’d got him into this mess. Admittedly, it was inadvertent, but nonetheless, I had taken him captive. I had touched the mark and removed the protection. That made him my responsibility.

One question I’d failed to ask was why I didn’t have the compulsion to kill him now the mark had been broken.

I’d drive myself mad trying to sort it out in my head. I needed to sleep, but it wouldn’t come.

I lay awake on the sofa.

Several times, I slipped into the bedroom, but he didn’t wake up. How long would this go on for?

Earlier, I’d not really had a chance to look too closely. I’d been more concerned with what he could do.

But now, standing over him, I realised how very different we were. How my looks identified me with light, yet his were darkness.

I’d stared deep into his brown eyes, trying to fathom what lay beneath them.

He was shorter than me, slight in stature, whereas I was strong and muscled. Austin had what I would now identify as a halo of brown curls that framed his face with little to no stubble. Unusual for a man his age, but considering what I knew now about his possible heritage, it made total sense.

Angels tended to be soft of skin. If I had to describe him, angelic or cherubic would be an apt depiction.

There was no denying my attraction to him.

I paced the floor, still in my boxers, the room too warm.

Heat radiated from him like a furnace. It wasn’t natural to be so hot.

I grabbed the cloth again, doused it in cold water, sat on the bed, and wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks.

His breathing became laboured, and his eyes moved rapidly beneath the lids.

What the hell was going on?

I placed the back of my hand on his forehead. He was as hot as hell itself and showed no sign of cooling down.

Reluctant as I was to leave him, I went to the kitchen, emptied the ice tray, and wrapped the cloth around the cubes.

Moans and groans came from the bedroom, and I rushed back. Austin was shaking uncontrollably, his whole body quaking.

His head thrashed from side to side, and his flailing arms knocked the lamp from the nightstand.

I attempted to pin his arms to the bed, but he was surprisingly strong.

This couldn’t be good.

What else could I do? I stood back. His frantic movements shook the bed.

Had he been possessed? Pretty sure I’d know if that had happened.

Several moments passed. Moments I thought it was the end of him, but slowly his breathing returned to normal, his movements slowed, and his eyes flickered open.

“Where the fuck am I? And who are you?”