Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

together? Since my death?”
    Michael answered, “Yes.”
    “Since before my death?”
    The question hovered between them.
    Brandon was certain Archangels were physically incapable of dishonesty. Michael’s mouth contracted, but he didn’t deny it. All he said was, “We can’t control the actions of anyone but ourselves.”
    Fury burned inside him. Hurt. Sadness.
    His mind flipped back through all the events of his past. Jude, his partner and best friend. Older and wiser. Giving advice. Hugging Tammy. Hugging her a little too tightly, Brandon realized now.
    “Let it go,” said Michael again. “You are not to pry into the lives of your loved ones.”
    Let it go. Brandon had said essentially the same words to Luciana. But now he realized how difficult, how agonizing that suggestion was.
    “How?”
    “You’ll find a way,” said Michael.
    “And this demoness?” he asked. “What am I to do about her?”
    “Slay the dragon.”
    “Wait. What the hell does that mean, anyway?”
    “That’s for you to find out.”
    * * *
     
    When Luciana awoke in the early hours before dawn, Arielle was standing over her.
    “Where’s Brandon?” the demoness asked.
    “He went for a little trip. It will give you and I an opportunity to talk,” Arielle smiled. “To get to know one another.”
    Luciana almost snorted. “My kind do not get to know your kind. Serpents do not get to know the rats they devour. Even when the rats gang up and gnaw the snake to death.”
    “I’m going to ignore that comment because I know you’re under a lot of stress. Look, I’ve brought you some breakfast,” said Arielle.
    There was an assortment of breakfast foods laid out on a tray.
    Cereal, scrambled eggs and bacon. A cup of coffee.
    “American food,” said Luciana with a flick of her hand, looking over the food. “This is clearly part of my torture, no? A choice between cardboard and a heart attack? No, thank you.”
    “Cut the crap, Luciana. This isn’t la dolce vita. ”
    “Really? I think you’d be a lot happier if you learned the art of la dolce far niente. ‘The sweet art of doing nothing.’ Either that, or maybe you could get laid once in a while,” she said, smiling her sweetest, sunniest smile. “And maybe then you wouldn’t need to pimp out members of your Company.”
    Impervious to the insults, Arielle merely picked up the cup of coffee, set it in front of her. “I trust you slept well.”
    “ Grazie, I slept tolerably enough,” Luciana said, taking a sip of the coffee and grimacing. “But not as well as I slept after I made love to Brandon.”
    Arielle still didn’t move a muscle. “I understand that you’re frustrated and I imagine it’s not very pleasant for you to be kept against your will. But if you cooperate, then we can all accomplish our goals. We know you created a very special kind of poison.”
    “Perhaps,” Luciana drawled.
    “You will tell us where it is. You will tell us how you made it.”
    In her blandest tone, the demoness said, “No wonder it took you two hundred years to reform Julian. If this is your idea of how to negotiate, I can’t blame him. It’s too bad that the best you can offer demonkind is a good screw from your underlings.”
    “Where’s Corbin?” the supervisor asked, switching subjects abruptly.
    “I have no idea where Corbin is,” said Luciana, studying her fingernails.
    “You must know. You were lovers. You spent three months living with him in Las Vegas.”
    “Truthfully, I really don’t know where Corbin is. I don’t care. He’s no longer my lover, and he’s certainly not my friend.”
    “Play these games,” Arielle said coolly. “Laugh at me all you want. But in the end, I’ll have the last laugh. I have the power to keep you apart from the only thing that matters to you.”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My home was destroyed in a fire two nights ago. There’s nothing more that I want.”
    “Well, now, that’s not true at all, is it?”
    It was not an angelic halo that radiated out from this woman, but an aura of smugness.
    “This is a totally different approach than you took with Julian,” Luciana said instead, broaching a subject that genuinely piqued her curiosity. “You went to such lengths to reform him.”
    “Of course,” Arielle said. “Because Julian was my very first Assignee. When I was ordained as an angel, two and a half centuries ago, the first person I was sent to guard was Julian. But you know how