will be cranky in the morning if I don’t get my beauty sleep. Please shut off the lamp as you leave.”
He closed his eyes, hoping for silence. What he got instead was Ramiel’s foot in his ribcage, forcing him on to his backside.
“What about that other thing?” he demanded.
Jerry cracked open an eye and gave him a Cyclops-styled glare down. “What do you think? Do you see her making moony eyes at me?”
“Don’t let me down now, Jerry.” Ramiel’s head turned slowly, surveying the room. “Did you attempt to seduce her and woo her yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe in this old-fashioned concept called ‘none of your fucking business’,” Jerry bit back. He propped himself up on his elbows, confident he broadcasted annoyance on all open channels. “I don’t get you, oh Holy Messenger. You hate my guts. You think my resurrection was a mistake. Yet you want me to hook up with your precious Keystone witch, even though she clearly thinks of me with as much warmth as a polar bear’s pile of shit in Alaska. Don’t tell me you’re actually happy with this plan.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want her.”
He guffawed. “I love her so much it brought me back from the dead. I know that little miracle has happened a few times before, but not to a fallen soul. Nevertheless, my love for Riona isn’t the point, angelwipe. She doesn’t want me, and I have it straight from the horse’s mouth on that one. You and I both know the man she wants is boiling in Hell’s kitchen, and on top of that is due to arrive back to Earth in a package of flesh you can bet your sweet bippy Lucifer will design to be instant seduction, aka a pathway to damnation for her.”
“But you’re the one,” Ramiel retorted. “As much as it pisses me off, it’s pretty fucking clear you’re the one the prophecy warned … I mean, foretold to us. The fact that I think you’re the lowest, scum-sucking, goat-kissing, disappointing fuck-up this side of the end times is irrelevant. I bow to the will of Big Boss, whether I like it or not. And if that means I have to oversee getting you and Riona to go sailing off into the sunset, then so be it. I’m going to be your personal Chuck Woolery from here until I do. Now get on your game and make her fall in love with you before Marc comes back, or so help you God, you will experience a new level of pain that will make Hell look like Disneyland.”
“Spoken like a man who’s clearly never been to Disneyland.”
The angel gave no further comment, though his glare could fill out about three profanity-laced paragraphs.
“Look, I can’t make promises, but I’m working at it. But I won’t sleep with her until she wants me for me, not because I’m an open lap living in her basement.”
“Nice time to decide to grow a pair of ovaries.” Ramiel reached out to the right and found the switch beneath his fingers. With a click, the room fell in to darkness, only a pale light falling from the book-sized ventilation window on the top of the street-side wall. “I can’t believe I have to convince you to pursue the woman you’re obviously in love with. I mean, why would you fight against having the woman you love?”
“ Because I love her, ass. Maybe the whole concept of treasuring someone’s heart over what she does to your dick doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s the truth of it. I want her to choose me, not—what was the term you used—‘bow to the will of Big Boss, whether she likes it or not.’ In the meantime, she better do something about all that energy that’s building up in her and looking for a release. I have a feeling she’ll be pitter-pattering down the stairs before too long if she doesn’t vent that shit, and I’m not ready to convince myself to not be the lightning rod that grounds her charge. Any chance you can do something about that?”
The angel feigned confusion. “You know I don’t sleep with mortals.”
“Yes, I know you don’t
He closed his eyes, hoping for silence. What he got instead was Ramiel’s foot in his ribcage, forcing him on to his backside.
“What about that other thing?” he demanded.
Jerry cracked open an eye and gave him a Cyclops-styled glare down. “What do you think? Do you see her making moony eyes at me?”
“Don’t let me down now, Jerry.” Ramiel’s head turned slowly, surveying the room. “Did you attempt to seduce her and woo her yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe in this old-fashioned concept called ‘none of your fucking business’,” Jerry bit back. He propped himself up on his elbows, confident he broadcasted annoyance on all open channels. “I don’t get you, oh Holy Messenger. You hate my guts. You think my resurrection was a mistake. Yet you want me to hook up with your precious Keystone witch, even though she clearly thinks of me with as much warmth as a polar bear’s pile of shit in Alaska. Don’t tell me you’re actually happy with this plan.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want her.”
He guffawed. “I love her so much it brought me back from the dead. I know that little miracle has happened a few times before, but not to a fallen soul. Nevertheless, my love for Riona isn’t the point, angelwipe. She doesn’t want me, and I have it straight from the horse’s mouth on that one. You and I both know the man she wants is boiling in Hell’s kitchen, and on top of that is due to arrive back to Earth in a package of flesh you can bet your sweet bippy Lucifer will design to be instant seduction, aka a pathway to damnation for her.”
“But you’re the one,” Ramiel retorted. “As much as it pisses me off, it’s pretty fucking clear you’re the one the prophecy warned … I mean, foretold to us. The fact that I think you’re the lowest, scum-sucking, goat-kissing, disappointing fuck-up this side of the end times is irrelevant. I bow to the will of Big Boss, whether I like it or not. And if that means I have to oversee getting you and Riona to go sailing off into the sunset, then so be it. I’m going to be your personal Chuck Woolery from here until I do. Now get on your game and make her fall in love with you before Marc comes back, or so help you God, you will experience a new level of pain that will make Hell look like Disneyland.”
“Spoken like a man who’s clearly never been to Disneyland.”
The angel gave no further comment, though his glare could fill out about three profanity-laced paragraphs.
“Look, I can’t make promises, but I’m working at it. But I won’t sleep with her until she wants me for me, not because I’m an open lap living in her basement.”
“Nice time to decide to grow a pair of ovaries.” Ramiel reached out to the right and found the switch beneath his fingers. With a click, the room fell in to darkness, only a pale light falling from the book-sized ventilation window on the top of the street-side wall. “I can’t believe I have to convince you to pursue the woman you’re obviously in love with. I mean, why would you fight against having the woman you love?”
“ Because I love her, ass. Maybe the whole concept of treasuring someone’s heart over what she does to your dick doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s the truth of it. I want her to choose me, not—what was the term you used—‘bow to the will of Big Boss, whether she likes it or not.’ In the meantime, she better do something about all that energy that’s building up in her and looking for a release. I have a feeling she’ll be pitter-pattering down the stairs before too long if she doesn’t vent that shit, and I’m not ready to convince myself to not be the lightning rod that grounds her charge. Any chance you can do something about that?”
The angel feigned confusion. “You know I don’t sleep with mortals.”
“Yes, I know you don’t
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