Marabella swallowed hard enough it could be heard clear across the room. “Are…are you saying I’m an angel too?”
“Not exactly. But you have the mixed blood and DNA of one, so that makes you several steps above the average human. I wouldn’t be surprised if you even have a longer lifespan than usual, courtesy of your dad’s genes. Really, who knows what kind of latent powers Sascha might have gifted you with?” Cass slid a glance toward Sam. “Although I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out what one of them is.”
The way Cass was staring at him made him infinitely nervous. “Care to share your theory with the rest of the class?”
“She can corrupt a demon.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sam leaned on the stairway banister and stacked his arms on his chest. “Not exactly late-breaking news, Cass. We already know she broke my seal.”
“Sam, I’m talking about you, not your soul-collector seal. Her angel blood obviously contains a force capable of corrupting your darkness and making you…nice.”
He narrowed his eyes. “If this is your idea of being funny, it’s not.”
Cass lifted from the couch and walked toward him. “Think about it. After your night with Marabella, you had that strange reaction that put you in bed for two days, feverish and delusional. Not to mention glowing like you were radioactive or something. It must have been her angel light working its way through your system. Ever since then, you’ve been slowly losing tiny fragments of your darkness and growing a conscience about things.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Was it? He’d already figured out he was acting damn strange and experiencing emotions that’d been foreign to him. Guilt, compassion, unselfishness.
Bloody fuck. This wasn’t good. At all.
“You did save that cat,” Nikki offered unhelpfully. “And you didn’t even growl at me when I ordered the extra bacon at breakfast.”
He dropped his arms and glared at her. “Don’t worry. I’m two seconds away from doing it right now.”
She smiled sweetly. “Afterthoughts don’t count.”
Cass cleared her throat, gaining his attention. “Having a conscience isn’t the end of the world, you know. You’re still essentially you…only nicer.”
“Do not use that word again, damn it.” Just hearing it made him queasy. Who ever heard of a nice demon? It was a fucking abomination. He liked being bad. Reveled in being a truly uncaring bastard. Life was easier that way. Lugging around a conscience? Might as well chain a two-ton boulder to his ankle and put him in the path of an oncoming semi. Either way, the end results weren’t gonna be pretty. Though come to think of it, ending up as roadkill might actually be preferable to becoming the next fucking Mr. Rogers of the demonic neighborhood. “I need a damn drink.”
Marabella scooted hesitantly toward the end of the couch. “There’s still some sweet tea in the fridge.”
“Unless you’ve got a pint of whiskey to toss in there with it, that’s not going to cut it.” Grasping the newel post in a stranglehold, he pivoted toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Cass demanded in a tight voice.
“I told you—to get a damn drink.” Not waiting to hear her reply, he booked it down the steps.
Cass caught up with him at the bottom. “Are you crazy? If Pricilla or one of her thugs sees you, she’s going to know you’re off the tracer. Then what?”
“I’ll take my chances.” He yanked the door open and exited through the rear entrance of the vestibule. Outside, he was greeted by the rude squawking from a family of seagulls migrating toward the distant river.
A bang sounded as Cass stormed out after him and slammed the door. “You stubborn ass. You really do have a death wish, don’t you?”
He figured Cass would never understand why he’d rather take a bullet than have every known quality of himself stripped away and mutated into something unrecognizable. So he said nothing and instead headed toward the alleyway that led to the front of the buildings.
“I know you’re upset right now, but if you’d calm down for a second and look at this from a different perspective, you might realize this could be for the best.”
He slammed to a halt and glared at Cass. “There’s not one damn thing about this that’s good.”
“Yes, there is. It’s your chance at happiness again.” She sucked in a deep breath, her gaze beseeching. “It can give you a shot at making a life with Marabella.”
Caged tension coiled inside him like a cornered snake. “Stop inventing castles in the clouds, for fuck’s sake. She’s half angel and I’m a half-assed demon. Slap us together, and we’re the biggest cosmic joke of the century.”
Sadness crept into Cass’s eyes, and she rested her palm on his thudding heart. “You’re afraid to let her in here. That’s understandable, considering the way you were forced to live your life.”
“You’re wrong. I wasn’t forced to do anything.” He stepped back, making her hand drop and severing their connection. “I chose to be what I am.”
“Initially. But you didn’t ask for Nettie. You didn’t ask for what she ultimately turned you into—a cold, unfeeling killing machine.” The fierceness in Cass’s expression softened. “You signed up to be a soul collector, Sam. Not a ruthless killer who was ordered to steal souls. I don’t care if you were a demon without a conscience, that’s a big jump for anyone to have to make. It’s no wonder you chose to close yourself off from the Sam we all knew before Nettie sank her claws into you. It was the only way you could survive. But the trouble is you’ve clung to that recreated image of yourself for so long, you’re now scared to let it go.”
The coiled snake inside him bared its venomous fangs in warning. His fists balled at his sides. “I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me, Cass. Leave that bullshit for the lost souls your sister hauls over to the afterlife.”
He started walking again, this time determined not to be swayed from his primary goal—getting shit-faced drunk enough he wouldn’t be tormented with the damning truth Cass had just thrown at him. And the fact he couldn’t do a fucking thing to change any of it. She was right about him molding himself into a creature of survival. One who existed on his terms. And now—again—every semblance of control he’d fought and killed to cling to was being stripped from him.
Well fuck that. There was no damn way he was going down without a fight.
Marabella sat huddled on the couch, dazedly staring at the spot where Sam had stood minutes ago. Her entire life had been turned upside down and inside out.
An angel? It was impossible to wrap her mind around it.
“You look like you could use a drink.”
She turned her head and met Nikki’s assessing gaze. “I’m kind of freaked out right now.”
“Understandable. Learning your pop sported white wings requires some sinking-in time.”
She blinked at Nikki. “Do you think he actually had wings?”
“I’ve never met an angel, so I can’t say for sure. But if they do, I bet they retract or something. Otherwise it’d be a huge pain in the ass walking around with those things all the time. Though I imagine they wouldn’t exactly hurt when trying to score time with the ladies.” Nikki’s expression turned thoughtful. “Hmm, I wonder if the size of their wings are indicative of how big their—”
Marabella cleared her throat. “Uh, can we please change the subject? A little too much squick factor for me, considering we’re talking about my dad.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
Gnawing the inside of her cheek, Marabella tried to block out all thoughts of angel sex, but then she recalled her own unlucky-at-love woes prior to losing her virginity to Sam. Or more to the point, the countless times a man dumped her after declaring she was too pure and innocent for him.