Love Bites Then it Sucks by Julie Steimle (story books to read txt) 📖

on my way back,” I lied.

“Lollygagging,” muttered the other gray angel.

“No,” growled Asahel. “Purposeful disobedience. She knew where she was going.”

“I’ve never been in New York before,” I snapped.

“You were looking for friends,” Asahel said.

Which was true. I was. I wanted to find a friend and make sure I was rescued. “Why was I sent to New York?” I shouted back at him. “You must have known I had friends here!”

The other two angels stiffened, actually surprised. They gazed to Asahel who sardonically replied, “It was not my decision. If it were up to me, you would be patrolling the battlefields filled with redcaps.”

I had no idea what a redcap was. Was it what it sounded like, a hat? Or maybe a weird mushroom like that poisonous mushroom called death cap.

“Take her back to her territory,” Asahel ordered the other two.

With nods to him, immediately they tore off over the city, hauling me back. It nearly took my breath away. The second we arrived, they deposited me on top of the hospital. Both shot me dark looks before flying off again without a word.

I stomped on the hospital roof, screaming at the sky after them. I could try to fly off from there, but I had a feeling I was being watched—and my new wound was aching. I had been so close to making contact with the mortal world. Sitting down on an air vent, I felt with my fingers where I had been newly-shot. It was funny. The newest wound hurt more than the other ones. And I started to wonder if I was actually getting used to my earlier wounds or if the pain intensified each time. The old wounds had never quit hurting, but the comparison of this pain to the other ones proved that something had changed. I decided after a moment that they had somehow become endurable.

My stomach rumbled. Grasping it, I frowned. Those angels talking about hunger actually had made me hungry. I had been fine before then.

What had that guardian said? ‘I could murder a hotdog?’ or ‘I could kill a…’ something that she could eat. I think it was a hotdog. Her words seemed to dance along the back of my skull, titillating it with an idea. Had she known I was listening? Or was it just some kind of reaper humor? But hey, I was hungry. I decided to see if I could ‘murder’ a hotdog.

The vendor whom I had been smelling before the meeting was no longer there, but I knew where a night food stand was open. I crept up on it. No one saw me except for the ghosts who fled, of course. And I, with my scythe, flicked up one of the roasting chicken wings on the grill there. It whipped into the air, hardly noticed by those around ordering small dinners from the vendor.

And I caught it.

With my hand.

And when I sank my teeth into the juicy cooked flesh, I knew I had a connection to the mortal world after all. Now all I had to do was figure out how to pay for things.

*

Rick Deacon’s cell phone rang while he was in the bathroom drying off after a shower. He had not heard it at first as his phone was in his bedroom, and he was examining his scars from his Germany trip. Most of the scars were healed, stitches out, but still sore.

The phone rang again.

Wrapping a towel around his waist out of habit, he stepped into his room and picked up the phone. Looking at the caller ID, seeing that it was his friend Matthew, he pressed TALK and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

<< Are you in California or in New York? >>

Rolling his eyes, Rick replied, “I’m still in New York. How did you know I was going to head to California, though? You know Eve’s wedding was cancelled.”

<< I know it. But I kid you not, she just showed up in the middle of fire fight with some crooks and took two bullets for me. >>

“Wh—what?” Rick nearly dropped his phone. “Eve’s in New York City?”

<< I saw her just a few minutes ago. It was weird. It was like I could hardly see her, but she was here. She just dropped in as this guy was shooting at me, and she got shot. >>

“Oh… no….” Rick gripped his hair.

<< She seemed to be walking fine, but… Rick, what is going on? She asked me if I was told what happened to her, and she told me not to touch her. It was weird. >>

“Not to touch her…?” Rick murmured. What did that mean?

<< Rick, what happened to her? >> Matthew sounded worried.

Taking in a breath, Rick nodded to himself. “If she showed herself to you, I can tell you. Matt, Eve has been—at least according to the letter she left Hanz—claimed by some kind of death angels—”

<< Death angels? >> Matthew drew in a breath.

“Roddy Mayhem told me about them once,” Rick said. “And Eve had mentioned strange angels to me before also, though I don’t think she knew what they were then. She said they were hiding from her. I think Tom can probably see them, but he does not talk about it.”

<< Oh. >> Matthew went silent.

Rick bit his lip, wondering if Tom had withheld that information from his best friend. Tom had never told him about them.

<< Come to think of it, >> Matthew muttered. << There were times I was not sure he was glaring at imps or something else. >> He exhaled sadly << So… these death angels claimed her? Like how? >>

Groaning inside, Rick said, “I’m not exactly sure. I have a copy of the letter. Hanz took a picture of it and emailed it as an attachment. She says they claim God sent them take her away so she would not corrupt Hanz but—”

<< She’s like his guardian angel though, >> Matthew muttered.

“She’s our guardian angel,” Rick replied, sighing.

Matthew drew in a breath. << Yeah…. Maybe that’s why she showed up on the street. >>

Shivers went down Rick’s arms. “Talk to me. What did you just figure out?”

For a moment Matthew did not say anything. Then, cautiously, he said, << This is just a theory, but you remember Carlos, right? He did predict Eve coming into our lives and protecting us. What if… >>

“Oh.” Rick nodded. “The letter did say she was supposed to become a death angel. I guess this is what it means.”

<< Maybe. >> Matthew sighed. << But what about Hanz? Do we tell him? Do we tell him she’s here in New York? >>

Rick could feel what Matthew was thinking. Hanz was in the worst mental state at the moment. His heart had been crushed. But he was a normal human being. There was nothing supernatural about him except for his willingness to not judge other people harshly—and even that was not enough for this situation. What if the angels who had taken Eve were right? What if this was a chance for Hanz to maybe escape the dangers of the supernatural world which Rick and his friends inhabited?

“I don’t know,” Rick said. “He’s…”

<< Freaking out, right? >>

Rick shook his head. “No. He is crushed, but he’s not giving up either.”

<< Is it wise to tell him where she is then?  You know, considering the circumstances… >>

Rick sighed. Honestly he was split on this. Hanz was a good man. And though Rick had been jealous of him at one time for capturing Eve’s heart, he realized after a while that she and Hanz were in many ways perfect for each other. Eve would never have loved him in the same way that she did Hanz. She had always seen him as just a friend. But would it do Hanz any good to let him know where Eve was when they still did not have a solution to get her out of her situation? He had medical school to finish on top of everything else. They had to protect his future. Besides, Matthew just said that Eve had gotten shot. How would Hanz handle that?

“Was Eve really hit in that shootout?” Rick asked.

Matthew groaned. << Yeah, I think so. She looked like she was in a bad state. She was bleeding and her clothes were stained. I swear it looked like she had been hit in the head, in the chest and in the gut, though the blood there looked old. The blood seemed fresh in the wound in her shoulder, but she was still walking alive. I don’t know how, because those wounds looked fatal. >>

“Oh crap.” Rick felt sick. She was probably already beyond reach. There was no way she could return to mortality like that.

<< What should we do? I get the feeling we don’t know enough about what is going on to say anything to Hanz. >>

Rick nodded. “I agree. I’ll tell the Seven, though. They are right now talking with Mr. McDillan from Cliffcoast to get what they can about Eve’s situation—”

<< McDillan? You mean the guy who shot at you in California? >>

“No,” Rick said. “His brother. He’s the ex-SRA hunter in Eve’s hometown. Not a bad guy. Eve knows him. He used to be her history teacher in high school.”

<< Uh, huh. >> Matthew sounded skeptical. << I have a feeling I may have met him once. >>

Rick wondered when. Matthew had traveled around in his training over dealing with supernatural beings in law enforcement. “Ok. Is there anything else I need to know?”

Matthew did not answer for a moment. He finally said, << No. I’ll keep an eye out, though. But keep me in the loop, ok? Eve seemed upset that nobody had told me about her getting snatched. >>

“Got it,” Rick said. He then ended the call.

Setting his phone down, Rick stared at the ground. Eve was in New York City. It was strange. Why was she there? If Eve truly was meant to be taken out of her life completely, then why then had she been taken to the other city where she still had connections to the mortal world? He did not think it was a coincidence. If indeed angels had taken her to become one of them—be it a death angel or something else—then there was a purpose for her being in New York. The question was what?

Murder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

Murdering my meals from small businesses was not a habit I wanted to keep up. I felt like I was stealing. That’s when I rediscovered dumpster diving.

I know. I know. That sounds gross. But hear me out. I once saw this documentary called Dive which showed that most food chucked out of grocery stores were in fact perfectly fine and edible, but due to laws and whatnot, a heap of really decent food gets chucked out weekly, if not daily from some establishments. That said, I decided to try it.

I dumpster dived bakeries and the hospital cafeteria leftovers first. Then I followed the leftovers of food carts since food and health inspectors demanded freshness from vendors for them to keep their licenses. To be completely frank—I ate well.

“You figured it out,” muttered the bag lady with newspaper wings when she came across me