Blood Awakening

CHAPTER THREE-3

A QUICK FLIGHT LATER, they landed on Kissera's penthouse terrace without incident, Lucifer held her longer than was necessary. It was good to be home, but she found herself reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked.

“You've had a traumatic experience.”

Lucifer's sudden appearance was unnerving. How had he known where to find her? Was he working with the Nativum? Had he sold her out?

Kissera pulled away, yet Lucifer held her hand until the last second before their fingers parted. One quick movement and he drew her to him again. A demon's lips shouldn't have been so soft. He didn't try to open her mouth and shove his tongue inside, instead his hand stroked her back, moving upward until it cradled her head, keeping his lips locked to hers. Energy flowed between them, breaking her resolve and bringing a smile to her lips. His kiss burned like the dawn, yet she couldn't stop. Gentle movements with his mouth beckoned her to kiss him back. Heat stirred within and Kissera wrapped her arms around him, molding her body to his. The Nativum experience floated away and all she knew was the tenderness of Lucifer's arms.

All too soon it was over. Kissera sucked her bottom lip, a sad attempt to keep the sweet taste of the Fallen's lips with her a bit longer. Lucifer looked at her in a way that made her remember what pleasure lips could bring. The moment was lost, yet a not so small part of her wanted it back.

Kissera shook her head, clearing the final fragments of Lucifer's kiss from her mind as she went inside. He was right behind her, not that she had the strength to keep him out. She should have been more upset about having the devil in her lair. No, he wasn't the devil. Just a Fallen angel helping her, a mere vampire. She slumped onto the couch.

“Stay,” he commanded. He found a goblet and the bottle of bison blood in the fridge, then he found one of Angela's cast iron pots, poured half the bottle inside and heated it on the stove.

“Why don't you use the microwave?” she called from the living room.

“Old habits. You're lucky I didn't use the fireplace and a clay pot.”

“How do you deal with it all? Everything changing. Don't you miss the way things used to be? What about old friends?”

“Practice. When you've been at it as long as I have, you get used to it. Besides, most of my friends are Fallen. Barring a true cataclysmic event, we'll be around forever.”

“Sounds depressing.”

He shrugged. “It's all I know.”

“How did you find me?”

“I stopped by the shop. Noticed the mess. By the way, I apologize. I never thought a gift of blood would get you into so much trouble. Anyway, after a few questions the neighbors led me to Vampire Asshole Central.”

“So you assumed the people next door would be so shocked by your–,” she gestured at his wings. “Stuff they'd tell the truth?”

“First of all, I don't ask humans for anything. Second, my magnificence is unknown to them. They can't see it. As to finding you, well, if you hadn't noticed, the city has become a sort of demon resort. It wasn't hard to find a nosy one that wanted to talk.”

“What do you mean humans can't see you? Angela can.”

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. “Oh, really?” A look she couldn't decipher crossed his face. “Your human can see an angel's true self?”

“Not just angels. Demons. Vampires. Werewolves. She senses all the supernatural world.”

“And she's been doing this since...?”

“I dunno. She never freaked out when I took her around to different gatherings.”

“Where did you get her?”

“Black Rose. She was a loaner that I decided to keep. Why?”

“She already knew about vamps when you got her?”

“Isn't that what I just said?”

“Did you check her family line?”

Kissera sucked her teeth. “Of course. Nothing special there. Her mother is Cuban and her father is Chinese. She has an older sister and younger brother. The family escaped Cuba and went to Hong Kong back in the eighties. Angela came to New York for college. The rest of the family run a couple of restaurants in Miami. Typical rags to riches immigrant family story. Did you think I kidnapped her off the street one day and made her my companion?”

“This helps me fill in some blanks. It's easier to look for her if I know something about her. I assume you've checked with her family in Miami and she's not there.”

Kissera glared. Lucifer returned the expression.

He was first to break off. The blood was warmed enough to drink. He poured, dropped the pot into the sink, and brought her the goblet. “I have to ask the obvious. Don't challenge me when it comes to, well, anything. I've been around forever and know more than you do about everything.”

“Well, excuse me for doubting the all-powerful Lucifer. I'll just sit here quietly in the corner with my blood.” Kissera cupped the goblet with both hands and stared down. Lucifer might have many traits, but humility wasn't one of them.

He paced around the small area between the kitchen and living room. Damn. Her place was rather inadequate for angels. Maybe she should get rid of some of this stuff, or maybe rearrange it. She made a dismissive noise. There was no reason to make her lair comfortable for angels. Angela knew better than to bring Charouth here. After this whole ordeal was over and Angela was back where she belonged, Kissera would never see Lucifer again. Why would she want his obnoxious know-it-all self intruding again?

After another goblet of blood and with restored vitality, Kissera asked, “It's early yet. How 'bout we get on with this search thing. The cops are off my back for now, but I only have five more days to show proof of life.”

“The trinkets I asked for.”

Kissera padded down the hall in sock-covered feet to Angela's room. Her hand rested on the door knob for a long moment before she entered. The comforting warmth of Angela's smoky-sweet scent surrounded her. The ceiling fan buzzed as its blades cut through the stuffy air. Angela didn't like AC. She also wasn't big on cleaning. Books, papers, and clothes were piled on the bed in a chaos that made Kissera smile. Pictures of family and friends covered the mantle above a gas fireplace. On the walls, modern art from Angela's favorites. All originals, of course. Nothing, but the best for her Angela.

After sifting through books, jewelry and pictures, Kissera decided on the ribbons Angela wore at the companion ceremony. They were dark red, covered in tiny crystals. Ribbonings were extravagant affairs and totally hedonistic. Nothing she'd done with Angela since compared to the bond they established that night.

She returned to the living room and presented the special token to him. “These are the ribbons Angela wore when she became my companion. There is nothing more sacred.”

“Thank you for sharing these with me.”

He took the ribbons, folded them with the reverence they deserved then placed them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“I might have to cut these. Are you ok with that?”

Kissera didn't hesitate. “Do what's needed. Cloth can be replaced. Angela cannot.”

They set off for Relics to collect a sample of the black residue on the basement floor. Lucifer was on the phone much of the time. She understood nothing. The harsh demon language in no way resembled any of the seven languages she spoke.

“My associate will join us later.” Lucifer said while they combed Relics for clues. “He has relationships with the more distasteful of our kind. While we wait for him, we can hit the demon marketplace.”

“I've been. Found nothing.”

“You didn't go with me.”

***