CHAPTER FIVE

“Well, I suppose I’ve slept in worse.” Noelle set her leather tote bag atop the dresser in the motel room and crinkled her nose. Something—the carpet or the shower drain—was putting off a bit of a funk, but the aroma should have been easy enough to push to the back of her mind.

Eventually.

Clutching the collar of her flirty pink jacket together at the throat, Jenny cringed into the room. “My, décor here’s a mite past its expiry, idnit?”

Noelle crinkled her nose and tried to make sense of that jumble of words. “You’re gutter-ratting again, dear.”

Jenny grimaced and rubbed the top of her right ear. Old habit. She used to fiddle the points when she was nervous, but her ears hadn’t had points in a thousand years.

“Oi. Talked to Mum for a bit. Me—” She cringed again. “My accent always goes Cockney for a while after we’ve had a chat. I lived in the East End for so long, I can’t quite shake the inflections.” Giving the ceiling a speculative look, she stepped into the retro-styled room and pushed down the handle of her carryon suitcase.

“I suppose I can’t blame you. You haven’t been in the US as long as I have.” And Noelle hadn’t wanted to stay at first. She’d wanted to strap on her bags and sail back to Ireland to continue her search for Cinnia. People had called Noelle disgusting things when she spoke. Her kind wasn’t wanted.

She took a breath and rubbed down the prickling hairs at the back of her neck. The turn of the twentieth century wasn’t a great time for her to recollect. She’d been in transition. Lonely, and angry at everything. She hadn’t been the most patient of elves. Back then, she hadn’t given second chances to anyone.

“Hopefully, we won’t be here beyond the night,” she said quietly. “If all goes according to plan, we could hop a plane to Vegas in the morning and move on with our lives.”

Jenny looked skeptical, and perhaps rightfully so. Noelle was too thorough with her retributions. She wouldn’t leave Maria until she was sure she’d gotten things right—until she was certain the angel was suffering.

“Want me to call him?” Jenny asked. “Mr. Perez, I mean.” She pushed up one pale eyebrow in a manner that was probably meant to be querying, but always made her resemble a cartoon. She was cute as a pixie with her soft cheeks and her sweet dimples, and utterly harmless.

Like Noelle, she’d worked very closely with the elf queen, but in an entirely different capacity. Jenny had been a dressmaker. Her skills as a seamstress were easily enough adapted for use in the human world. However, being able to make money wasn’t her only concern upon leaving the Otherworld. She needed to be able to protect herself, and had been doing a dismal job for several centuries after they’d parted.

Noelle hadn’t been able to bear to leave her on her own for any longer and had convinced Jenny’s mother to let her see to her safety. Jenny was far too naïve for her own good.

Noelle let out a breath and let her hand fall from her neck. “Yes, you may as well call him. Let’s get the stream of shit flowing and past us. If you ever find yourself in a relationship with a fallen angel—and I hope you never do—you’ll start to think that you’re wading through shit nonstop. Perhaps you’ll like the mess while you’re in it, because though the miasma makes you suffer, they’re so lovely to look at.”

“Huh.” Jenny furrowed her brow and dialed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

“Not surprising, and you would certainly know if you had. Tamatsu was my first one, but I knew instantly what he was.”

Species-wise, if not character-wise. She’d needed a bit longer to discern that he was an unfaithful reprobate.

“Oh! Mr. Perez?” With her phone to her ear, Jenny’s eyebrows dropped from their stratospheric arcs and she smiled. “Sorry. Tito, of course. We’re in Maria now, and all checked into the motel.” She cut her cornflower blue gaze over to Noelle and said, slowly, “Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh what?” Noelle asked.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Jenny said sweetly into the phone. “Could you give me directions, please? The GPS in my phone wasn’t working nicely earlier.” She uncapped a pen with her teeth and scribbled on the notepad atop the rickety desk.

Noelle tapped her foot impatiently, but Jenny continued to ignore her.

“And what time should we be there?”

“Be there?” Noelle glanced at the clock. They’d landed at seven, and they’d taken three hours to acquire a rental car and navigate to the small town. Once they’d gotten to Maria, they’d had to drive up every street until they found the motel. The mapping software was giving them the runaround and sending them in circles. It was nearly eleven.

“That doesn’t seem to be too far from here,” Jenny said. “I remember passing some of those streets when we were driving to the motel. Will you be there?” She gnawed briefly on the end of the pen, and Noelle nudged it out of her mouth, whispering, “Germs, Jenny.”

Jenny shuddered and squinted at the now-deformed thing. “Oh, well, that’s a pity. Thank you all the same, Mr. Perez. We’ll call if we need any assistance.” She set down her cell phone and looked at Noelle. “He’s actually at work right now. A sheriff’s deputy, of all possible things. I didn’t know any supernaturals worked in an official law enforcement capacity.”

“Me neither.”

“Anyhow, Tito won’t be there, but his wife will be.”

“Where is there?”

“His mother’s house. She lives nearby. She’s a …” Jenny rubbed her ear again. “She’s a goddess, it seems. Some sort of Cougar goddess from Mexico.”

“Ah. No wonder I couldn’t peg him. Every demigod hits my radar differently. Don’t worry.” Noelle made a dismissive flick of her hand. “He’s harmless compared to most.”

Jenny grimaced. “I … guess I’ll take your word for it, Noe.”

“Best that you do.” Noelle grabbed her tote and her train case, and hurried toward the grungy bathroom. “I’m going to hop into the shower and wash the airplane grime off. I’ll be out in a jiff.”

“A jiff my fat arse,” Jenny said in an undertone as Noelle closed the bathroom door.

She wasn’t as high-maintenance as Jenny made out, and even if she were, she had few other vices. Obsessing over lipsticks and shoes was far healthier than her old habit of collecting sharp, pointed things, and probably somewhat more legal, depending on her state of residence.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, Jenny had changed out of her skirt suit into slacks and a turquoise sweater that made the color of her eyes pop. She always looked fresh as a daisy with little effort.

“Let’s go,” Noelle said. “I’ll drive, you navigate.”

Jenny cocked her eyebrows again. “Are you sure?”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing, just that …” She cringed. “When you’re anxious, you aren’t as good at … you know. Steering and stopping and stuff.”

“Who said I was anxious?” Noelle cracked her knuckles.

Jenny blinked.

“Don’t you dare blink at me.” Noelle tossed her the car keys and grabbed her purse.

“I’m looking out for you, is all.”

“That’s usually my line.”

“Well, it’s about time I did something for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Outside on the walkway, Noelle shoved the room key into the lock. “You’re indispensable. You do things for me every day.”

“Oh, that’s business stuff, though. I mean personal things. Who knows where me and Mum might have ended up if not for you.” Jenny pushed the unlock button on the key fob, and the sedan’s lights flashed.

Noelle got in. “You would have been fine eventually, I’m sure. All I did was made things a little easier for you.”

“You gave Mum a lot of money.”

“So what? My family’s all dead, so I had cash to spare, and besides, Cinnia would have done the same.”

“She would’ve, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel less like a leech.”

Noelle suspected that no matter what she said, Jenny wouldn’t change her mind. She figured she should save her energy for the main event she was trying not to think about. And as long as she didn’t think about it—or him—she didn’t hyperventilate.

Jenny handed her the paper with the directions, and Noelle read them off as they crawled slowly through the moonlit streets. Unlike Vegas, Maria was a quiet little town. It reminded Noelle of the tiny Irish hamlet that she kept a cottage in and retreated to every few winters. People left her alone there, and mankind fared better if she were far away from them at certain times.

“I believe we’re going to that house there.” Noelle pointed to a massive two-story dwelling that had to be a hundred years old, if it were a day. The lot was huge, and gated. Her real estate agent brain kicked into high gear, pondering comps and resale value. The commission on such a property could probably cover the rent on Jenny’s mother’s posh flat for six months.

Jenny parked at the curb, killed the lights, and slowly pulled the key. “Do you want me to go to the door first and scope things out, or—”

“Not necessary,” Noelle interjected, “but thank you for being concerned. I’ll be fine.” Noelle got out before she could tell herself she was a liar, and closed the door.

Hitching her tote’s strap up to her shoulder, she raised her chin proudly. She ran her tongue across her teeth for any traces of lipstick, and then stepped onto the curb. She walked assertively, not letting herself slow as she pushed the gate open and then strode up the walkway.

The porch light was on, as was the light on the other side of the glass door.

She pounded up the stairs with Jenny at her heels and teeth clenched tight as a vise.

She knocked and turned her back to the door so she could check her expression. “How does my face look?” she whispered to Jenny.

“Perfect as always.”

Noelle turned her face a bit to the left and then to the right. “See any signs of weakness? Any softness?”

Jenny giggled. “Nope. I wouldn’t mess with ya if I were them.”

“Okay. Good.”

December pulled the door inward and gestured for them to enter. “Sorry to ask you to keep your voices down. We live here with Lola while Tito and I try to find a bigger house, and our daughter goes to bed at nine.”

“Understood. After all, I was a child once.” Though Noelle could barely remember being allowed to behave like one. She’d been swinging a sword with precision since soon after she’d been able to pick one up.

She moved across the threshold, careful to keep the heels of her pumps from clacking against the hardwood floor.

“Cruz’s room is right there.” December pointed directly upward. “So we’ll go out to the deck.”

Noelle nodded and crooked a thumb toward Jenny. “Jenny is my assistant. She’s here to keep me out of trouble.”

Jenny sighed. “Oh, Noe.”

December chuckled quietly. “Hey. We all need one of those people. I’m not sure if Tito keeps me out of trouble or gets me into some, but he’s my partner in crime, either way. Come on. Grab a drink in the kitchen as we pass through if you want something.”

They started walking.

“Probably best for all if I’m not holding anything fragile,” Noelle said.

“Do you think this will go badly?” December asked. “I don’t know the whole story of what’s going on, but clashes seem to be par for the course around here. Maria is rife with all sorts of mate drama.”

“Really? How’s that?”

December scoffed as she paused in front of a lemonade pitcher on the counter.

Jenny helped herself to a glass.

Noelle abstained. She didn’t trust herself to hold a cup.

“I wish I could say it’s something in the water,” December said, “but for all I know, stuff like this happens everywhere.”

“Elves are renowned for their messy relationships.” Jenny sipped and cut Noelle a skeptical look.

“Why is that?” December asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. Might be cultural. Maybe we’re grown accustomed to the dysfunction and simply don’t know how to say no anymore.”

Noelle didn’t bother rebutting because of that whole “The lady doth protest too much” thing. She didn’t want to be dysfunctional—she didn’t think anyone did—but she refused to believe she was responsible for all of the messiness in her life. There were plenty of other people complicit in her becoming the wretch she was.

“Come on out,” December said. “You can meet my mother-in-law.”

“Oh, dear,” Jenny said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t meet goddesses every day.”

“Where’s she sitting?” Noelle asked as they walked through the sunroom and approached the deck door. She was averting her gaze downward.

“To the left as we enter,” December said.

“Where’s Tamatsu?”

“Far right. Why?”

“Because if I look at him, I’ll want to kill him.”

“You’re exaggerating, right?”

“She’s not,” Jenny murmured. “Elf thing. Killing them is sometimes the only way to sever an attachment to a bad mate.”

December’s mouth flapped open in the telltale way of the mortally stunned.

“I’ll steer you away,” Jenny said. “I won’t let you forget why you came here.”

“I wish someone would tell me why,” December said as she pushed the door outward.

Jenny hurried between the two of them and nudged Noelle toward the small woman seated on the cushioned bench to the left. December put her hand to the back of Noelle’s neck, effectively preventing her from turning her head the other way.

Lady catches on fast.

Noelle might not have been able to look without loosening her barely-suppressed coil of anger, but she felt the suffocating heaviness of angel energy pushing at her back. Reflexively, she forced her shoulders back and down, and filled her lungs.

“Lola,” December said, “this is Noelle and Jenny.”

The goddess bowed her head slightly. She could have passed for thirty with her long black hair and smooth brown skin, but Noelle guessed she was at least a hundred times that. She knew better than to ask.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Lola said.

“You ’ave a lovely ’ome,” Jenny said.

Noelle nudged her with her elbow.

Jenny cringed. “Sorry. Was watching My Fair Lady on the plane. Along with my mother, Eliza’s got me in a state, but I’ll do better.”

Lola quirked a brow.

“All righty, then.” December rocked back on her heels. “So, should we just … I mean, this is my first time negotiating one of these things.” She passed a hand through her curly hair and grimaced. “This is something else.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Noelle said through clenched teeth. She didn’t turn around, and held a flicker of hope that she wouldn’t have to. If she could endure the entire exchange without having to look at Tamatsu’s smug face, there was a small chance no one would lose any blood. She’d sold houses without ever meeting the sellers, and hoped the situation at hand wouldn’t be much different. “The long and short of the situation is that he has information I want. When he proves the information isn’t bogus, I’ll give him what he wants.”

“One small problem,” came a deep, thunderous voice behind her.

She needed a moment to not only identify the speaker, but also to tamp down her kneejerk assumption that he was calling her the small problem. Short jokes were one of her pet peeves.

She pulled in another deep breath and rubbed her throbbing neck. “Hello, Tarik.”

“Noelle. You look well.”

“Apologies for not turning to confirm the same about you. I would have hoped that by now, you would have improved the sort of company you keep.”

Tarik breathed out one of those angelic sighs that always sounded like the origin of a tsunami. “How fare you, Noelle?”

“As fine as could be expected, and you? How’s it been hanging for the past eight hundred years or so?”

“It hangs superbly.”

“Gods, you were always the literal sort.”

Drumming her fingertips against the sides of her arms, Noelle pointed her gaze over the deck railing to what appeared to be a birdbath in the back yard. She’d never had problems with her vision, but she wasn’t quite ready to believe what she was seeing was a cougar balanced on its hind feet. Its mouth was wide open as its front paws gripped the edge of the water bowl. The allusion was macabre, even for her.

“As I was saying,” Tarik said, “the problem is that we can’t take you to who you’re seeking until morning. The hour is late here, and even later where your friend is.”

“Since when did angels start keeping respectable hours?” Noelle asked.

“I didn’t say we did. Others do.”

“You may have had a point there. Cinnia had always been a respectable sort.” She probably even went to bed before midnight. “How do I know you’re not jerking me around?”

“Are you insinuating that either of us has that kind of time on our hands?”

That question made Noelle turn.

Tarik—big, dark, and beautiful as always—was in the corner with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The top of his head nearly skimmed the pergola rafter. He’d upgraded—or downgraded, depending on whose opinion was in play—his wardrobe. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been swaddled in a football field’s length of fabric in the style of whichever Ethiopian tribe had seen fit to adopt him. His modern garb included a ragged black trench coat, faded tan cargo pants, a plain gray shirt, and shit-kicker boots. In the past, he’d worn that beastly angel-honed sword out in the open and nobody batted an eyelid. He probably couldn’t do that anymore. She’d stopped carrying a sword sometime during the nineteenth century. Shotguns had been better at keeping bandits from getting close.

To Tarik, she said, “Give me a plan.”

“We’ll go in the morning. Five our time.”

Noelle glanced at her watch and hitched her purse’s strap up onto her shoulder. “Well, then. We’ll be back here at four forty-five.”

“You may as well rest here,” Lola said. “If I had known the circumstances sooner, I would have suggested you take rooms here rather than at the motel. I hear the accommodations there leave something to be desired.”

“Oh, they’re not that bad, ma’am,” Jenny said. “I’ve stayed in much, much worse. Why, during the eighteenth century, pretty much anyplace you stayed in some parts of London made you worry about catching something.” Jenny shuddered. “I’m ever so happy for the advent of indoor plumbing.”

“You’ve always been easy to please,” Noelle muttered.

“I’m just a dressmaker. I can’t really expect much, can I? I’ve always had to depend on someone else’s grace.”

“Give yourself more credit, dear.” Noelle turned to Lola. “I appreciate the offer, but our things are at the motel, and—”

“I’ll fetch them,” Tarik said. “What room are you in?”

“That’s not nec—”

“Room E,” Jenny said. “Shouldn’t be too much to gather up unless Noe unpacked her entire makeup kit.”

Noelle closed her eyes and sighed again, but even with her lids down, she caught the flash of angelic teleportation. The light he put off warmed her skin like sunshine.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Lola said. “Step carefully, please. My granddaughter is occasionally a light sleeper. She doesn’t like to think she’s missing anything.”

Lola stepped up into the sunroom, and then passed into the kitchen with Jenny right after her. December followed, and then stopped, likely noting Noelle hadn’t followed. She waved Noelle on.

For some reason, Noelle seemed to be frozen in place. She could wriggle her toes in her shoes, and she could certainly grind her teeth quite viciously. She just couldn’t impel her feet to budge—not without doing one thing first.

That rat bastard.

“I hate you,” she said to Tamatsu. “Let go of me.”

He didn’t say anything of course, because he couldn’t, but she saw his slight movement in her periphery. Perhaps he was drumming his fingers or shifting his weight. She couldn’t tell, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way. He was apparently demanding she do such.

“What’s wrong?” December asked.

“The angel fink has my muscles locked. I guess he doesn’t need to speak a curse to be able to do that.”

“I didn’t know they could do that at all.”

“Oh, they can do all sorts of things. Some very good, some very …” She hissed. “Very bad.”

December wagged a finger at him in a way that was comically maternal. “Tamatsu. Stop that.”

More slight movement in his corner. He’d probably shrugged.

“Let go of her so she can sleep. You may not need to, but she does.” December furrowed her brow. “I think. Do elves need to sleep?”

“Yes,” Noelle said. “In fact, more than you do in certain seasons. Come winter, I’ll be useless for a good fourteen hours of the day.”

“Is that true of all elves?”

“Most elves. Depends on how much magic they had before we lost the bulk.”

“I want to hear that story.”

“It’s quite long.” And it wasn’t hers to tell, really. If anyone were to tell the story, Cinnia should have. She was the one who’d emptied their land to undo one man.

Noelle laid her head to the side and rolled her shoulders back. He was still psychically tugging at her, demanding she look because he was a vain angel and so many angels had fallen for being the exact same way.

She wasn’t going to look, though. She was stronger than that.

He let go of her, and she didn’t hesitate. She damn near hurled herself over the threshold and nudged December onward.

Keep going, keep going.

A few more steps, and she would be too far to see.

As she put her foot up to the kitchen step, her body betrayed her. Her head turned and torso along with it. Her gaze went automatically to the looming figure through the sunroom glass who stood with his hands in his duster’s pockets, peering at her through eyes as black as the heavens.

His hair was loose, a shiny, dark mass that hung over his shoulders and down his back. Feet of hair for her to twine her fists around, for her to bury her face into when she slept like the nearly dead during the winter.

He’d never moved back then. She’d wake up, and he’d be exactly where he had been with her fingers tangled up in that silken length and him rubbing her back or some other foolish thing.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew he was beautiful. They all were, but he’d been hers, or at least she’d thought he’d been.

December tugged her by the arm into the kitchen. “Come on. Don’t get enthralled. You’re standing there agog like some of the Maria locals do whenever we make field trips to Tiny’s taco truck.”

Noelle straightened her spine and said in a huff, “I wasn’t agog.”

“Close enough.”

“Then I assure you …” Noelle couldn’t help but to glance over her shoulder, if only to confirm there was no one there. She needed peace of mind. Fortunately, he wasn’t behind her. “It was entirely his fault. But then again, so much of this mess is.”