Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

from the waters of an illusive city.
    She leaned near, whispering in his ear, “I can fix that darkness inside you. I can give you what you want.”
    You can’t give me what I want, he knew. No one can.
    “Young lovers,” said the gondolier, finally emerging from his shock as he mistook the nearness of his passengers for intimacy. “This is a city for lovers. See, we are coming up to the Bridge of Sighs. We Venetians say that if a pair of lovers kiss as they pass under this bridge, their love will last for all eternity.”
    The demoness’s hand touched Brandon’s shoulder, a light touch that was as fleeting as the landing of a butterfly’s wing. The profound softness of that contact surprised him.
    How can a woman who just conjured a dragon out of the depths of the Venetian lagoon be so gentle?
    With her other hand, she pointed, and he shifted his gaze from her face for an instant, looking up at the ornate covered bridge that arched overhead. He turned back to look at her, watched the last play of moonlight on her face turning to shadow as they passed beneath the bridge. Utterly without thinking, he leaned forward and closed the distance between them. With a brush of his fingers on the side of her jawline, turned her face toward him.
    You’re on a mission here, said his mind. You must retain all your faculties of reason.
    Kiss her, screamed his gut.
    So he kissed her.
    A mere graze of his lips against hers, a flutter of contact as light as her butterfly touch. But he felt it as a visceral jolt, that intimate connection of skin against moist skin, a shock that resounded in the depths of his being. He felt as though he had shifted into another reality, one that seemed as volatile and ephemeral as a dreamspace.
    He felt her gasp.
    Felt her lips part beneath his, felt her sharp intake of breath. Felt her mouth quiver against his before she went completely and utterly still. After a pause that seemed to last a lifetime, her breath escaped on a sigh so faint that it was almost outside the realm of perception.
    Am I awake, or am I dreaming? he wondered.
    The butterfly effect sprang to mind—the theory that something as light as a butterfly’s wing could change everything. That the mere presence of one small insect could alter weather patterns. Could lead to the creation or the absence of a hurricane, for instance.
    What about a firefly? he wondered.
    Whether it could or not, a hurricane sweep of desire was building inside Brandon, generated by that kiss. That gentle contact had stirred an internal fire that flared and raged, aching to get out. It was a desire he fought against with all the discipline of his calling, wrestling with his unruly passions.
    From somewhere deep inside himself, a little voice said, Perhaps this kiss could change everything…
    He promptly dismissed the notion, laughing a little to himself at the ridiculousness of it.
    And was brought back into the here and now by the action of Luciana’s hand as it fell away from his shoulder in a jerky motion, almost as though her body had entered a state of shock.
    “Why did you do that?” she said.
    Her face had gone a pallid shade of white, even paler than her usual coloring.
    Blinking up at him, she seemed flustered, confused.
    To Brandon, she looked not as though she’d seen a ghost, but as though she was one. An apparition struggling to maintain her grasp on her earthly form, perhaps about to leave it. As far as he knew, she lacked the power to dematerialize. As bound to her physical body as he was to his, Luciana nonetheless looked like she might evaporate on the spot.
    Instead of answering her, he kissed her again. As his lips descended onto hers, all thinking stopped entirely. And feeling took over.

Chapter Eight
     
    I n Luciana’s gut, panic rose.
    “Stop,” she instructed the gondolier. “I need to get off immediately.”
    Reaching into her purse, she flung a fistful of euros at him.
    Then she took off into the streets, walking quickly, wanting to get as far away from Brandon as possible. Wanting to erase that kiss from her lips, the memory of it, the fact that it had ever happened. Wanting to erase the feeling that he had somehow trapped her into the most horrible thing that could happen to a woman like her.
    Love.
    Brandon followed, his stride even and unhurried, keeping up with her easily as she flitted through the passageways.
    They passed beneath a carved relief of a dragon slayer with his spear.
    He grabbed her arm, stopping