Asmodeus(51)

A few other brave souls sang—one butchering the song they chose—and Asmodeus finally turned back to her as the waitress arrived with their food.

He promptly peppered his pizza to death.



What freedoms were most important to him? If he had the choice to do whatever he wished, what would he do first? "If you had one week to live, what would you do with it?"



He didn't hesitate with his answer. "First I would spend it in good company. I'd enjoy great food," he said, raising his fork, which dripped with cheese and ham, "and I would have as much sex as I could."



Some of the Coke she had been drinking dribbled down her chin when she laughed. She quickly dabbed her face with her napkin. One minute he seemed dark and mysterious, and the next he was an open book.



He smiled. "You?"



She put her napkin back on the table, enjoying the simple innocence of his smile. He looked like he hadn't a care in the world. A drastic change in the way he usually carried himself. She liked this side of him. "I guess I'd do the same." They had less than six days left to them, and when she failed in her mission they would take him as well, in whatever manner they could.



Guilt washed over her because she had yet to tell him about her assigned mission. He was aware she was hiding something, but there was no way she could enlighten him, which was why they were here in the first place.



"What are you thinking about?"



She pushed the bad thoughts aside and said the first thing that came to mind, hoping to keep him in his playful mood. "I'm thinking there's a beach close by. Ever been to the beach?"



A distant look replaced his smile. "A long time ago."



He suddenly seemed tense, and she wanted his playfulness back. "Why don't we go there after dinner?"



Out of the corner of her eye she saw the waitress lead a familiar face to a booth a few rows from theirs. It was one of the angels who had summoned her from the library. He was dressed casually in a blue T-shirt, and he was seriously smaller than he had been in his own realm. He looked like a normal human, not at all like the Warrior Angel he truly was.



"Sounds good."



She turned her attention back to Asmodeus. She should have told him what had happened in the library. The appearance of the angel made it feel as though it were she and Asmodeus against the angels. They were in this together.



"Asmodeus…"



She caught the angel at the booth slowly shaking his head. He motioned for her to look outside. When she did, she noticed another angel standing under the street lamp, illuminated by the soft yellow light.



"Uh, Asmodeus…"



"I am aware." Asmodeus leaned forward. "The question is, how did you recognize them?"



She brought her gaze back to his. Asmodeus looked calm. Resigned. She had no desire to answer his question, so she completely ignored it. Truce gone. "What should we do?"



He studied her for a moment. The assessment in his gaze made her feel like an errant toddler. "They won't do anything in front of the humans."



"So what do we do?"



"We finish dinner and go to the beach, as was your wish. I say we behave as though we have only

one week to live."



Could he make that innuendo any more obvious? Unbeknownst to him, the scenario was true. Scanning the muscles his shirt couldn't hide, she figured there were worse ways to go.



She glanced behind him to the angel. He eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup. His unwavering stare was starting to creep her out. She tried ignoring him, looking back at Asmodeus. "I think we can work something out."



"You know, I like this new side of you. Laughing in the face of danger. Thumbing your noise at the powers that be."



Is that what the angels would think she was doing? Shit. Anxiety filtered through her body. "Do you think they are going to do something? Why is it they just don't take you?"



His smile was anything but pleasant. "Because they know that unless they come with an army they will go home in pieces."



She glanced at the angel in the booth. He didn't look incompetent to her at all. "How can you be so sure of your abilities?"



"How can I put this to you so you will understand it?" He folded his napkin and placed it on the table. "Dogs are friendly, looking only for companionship. Unless, of course, you breed that dog differently. Or torture it. When a dog is tortured it has a heightened sense of survival. Survival becomes ingrained in their defenses. It's not that the dog is bad. It's aggressive. It's a learned trait, and the dog believes to stay alive it must fight anything that seems to pose a threat. I guess it's safe to assume the angels view me as a tortured dog. They realize what I am capable of if provoked or attacked. They are not sure what I will do, or who I can summon to fight with me. I view them as a threat to my survival."