Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,64
excitement of bringing down another one of the Big Boss’s top human agents. A real demon would be eating this shit up like it was an ice cream sundae with rainbow sprinkles.
But Jerry? Jerry hated it, which meant that he even fell short when it came to being damned.
Which… must mean, in his soul, he actually wasn’t entirely demon…
The magic that came with being a hell-beast was awesome, if dark in nature. Problem was, it all flowed from the bad graces of Old Nick. If you were on his shit list, like Jerry was now, he’d cut you off like a whiny trust fund baby being relegated by tough love. It had been eons since Jerry dared to recollect that once, he was capable of another sort of magic, blessed with power that flowed, not from the fires of the underworld, but from the light of creation. If that little corner of his soul could bubble its way to the surface and let him fall in love after centuries of cruelty, could a mooring to ambient magic still be harbored in his soul?
Uttering in his native tongue, a human language, which long ago fell out of fashion, Jerry turned his eyes towards Heaven, and prayed that those who soared above would still heed his call.
“Angelus Bellator, videte vocatus!”
Hell’s prison stood silent. Following a sigh complete with a tearful chaser, Jerry’s forehead fell against the bars of the cage. It was hopeless. Lucifer rarely failed. If he were determined to get Riona Dade down below, he would find a way.
“Oh, fuck me! Seriously?”
The otherworldly voice shocked Jerry. His eyes shot open as he took in the sight of the white-winged, broad-shouldered, blonde-haired Adonis in front of him.
“You never used to curse.”
Ramiel scowled. “Different times, different measures. Seriously, fucking you called me here? What the hell? What the fuck do you think you’re doing, using a trick like that to get me to descend into Hell? Do you know how much Gabriel’s going to chap my ass when he finds out this happened?”
Panicked, Jerry’s hand lashed out between the bars and pulled the angel by the collar of his button-down, meeting him eyeball-to-eyeball. “You got to get me topside. I don’t need much time, twenty minutes should do it.”
“I have no authority here; letting you out would be illegal. Not to mention I still fucking hate your guts. Besides, you know I can’t arrange for a human host for someone like you. That would be aiding and abetting the enemy.”
“Come on, Ramiel.” Jerry put on the best impression of puppy dog eyes a demon could muster. “Surely, someone owes you a favor. And you don’t have to find me the body. Just ground my soul to Earth long enough and I’ll find someone myself.”
Ramiel cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Even with my help, you’re not of the earth any more. You might get five, ten minutes at best, but your soul won’t stick to a host body for too long, so what’s the freaking point?”
“A human body, no, but I know a loophole. Please,” Jerry begged, “just get me out of here and past the gates, and I’ll handle the rest. She’s going to need my help. They all will.”
The angel, arms-crossed, leaning to the side, proved incredulous. “Who the hell would need you?”
“Riona, the other Pure Souls. He’s… She’s coming for them. Help me, Ramiel. I know his weaknesses, I know his methods. I can help them. You know Riona’s not ready to take on the big guy yet. Either we work together on this, or start picturing what she’s going to look like as a demon. I promise, afterwards I’ll return to Hell and never help Lucifer again.”
Studying Jerry’s features, Ramiel looked behind the demon, as though any plot he was conceiving lurked in the shadows. Finally, with a deep sigh, he pulled from his pocket the hilt of a sword, which materialized inch-by-inch as it was unsheathed. With a horrendous cry, the angel lashed, making the iron bars crash into pieces on the ground. “Okay, but I warn you, step one hangnail out of line, or hurt one innocent, and all you’ve endured in Hell will be the most pleasant memories of your life. I’m trusting you just this once, for old time’s sake. Don’t fuck it up.”
Chapter 20
Evening mass at St. John the Redeemer’s drew to a close as Marc felt his phone buzz in his pocket, nearly sending him to the rafters like a cartoon cat. The timing