that they have something to do with his moral code. Can I live with that? I’ve already trusted him with my whole story but there might always be things hidden from me. He can keep his job secrets at the DEA. They’re not what are bothering me.
And then there’s Lucius.
Bits of their brief time together flitted through her mind. The crossbow bolt Lucius shot through her shoulder . . . the shimmering of his armor in the moonlight . . . their first kiss in a dark alley after he’d saved her life . . . the bloody heart outline he’d carved on a tree for her in the wilds of Ethiopia. She’d thought he was her true soul mate. Lucius was in his demon Sidana’s private Underground. Even if she collected all the shards and destroyed the demons, she had no idea how to retrieve a person from a demon’s fortress in hell. Wasn’t it likely that when she snuffed out a demon, everything the demon possessed would disappear with him in a puff of smoke?
Sidana owns Lucius for eternity. I love Lucius as my one true love, my soul mate. But he’s a shadow now, a dream I can’t touch. No soul mate for me here in the Great Above, but there’s Jake. As long as I keep Lucius locked inside my heart . . . Why not? I could be normal with Jake. He talks about a house in the mountains and kids. . . .
She hugged the pillow to her chest and let the tears flow, and was finally able to sleep.
She woke just a few hours later with the rest of the condo quiet. Hound was either gone or resting, so she took some time to work on her latest book in the Dick Stallion series, Hot and Bothered . The books were something she’d taken up to have a visible means of support. Maliha had accumulated wealth over quite a few normal lifetimes: precious metals and gems, art, collectible items, and investments. Still, she liked to have a job that explained away at least the tip of the iceberg of her vast wealth. The Dick Stallion books were designed like pulp detective fiction from the 1930s, down to the garish covers and the cheap, yellow paper. To her surprise, they became wildly popular, and she couldn’t write them fast enough to keep up with the demands of her agent and publisher.
In this passage, Dick had gratuitous sex with an airline attendant somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, unaware that the attendant was a recruiter for an international sex ring of bored housewives. She reported him to the Guiltless Orgasm Society as a candidate. After deplaning in Paris, he proceeded with his improbable adventure of saving the kidnapped daughter of a fabulously wealthy philanthropist while evading the Paris chapter of GOS.
Later, she removed Hound’s bandage and took a shower. She adjusted the spray as hot and hard as it would go, sending liquid needles into her injured back. It was painful but in a good, cleansing way. Then she turned her face up to the water and accepted the pummeling for unspecified sins past and future.
Wrapped in a thick cotton robe, Maliha went into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten in a long time. There was a bag on the counter full of fresh croissants from Watson’s Bakery in the lobby area of her building.
“Thank you, Hound!”
“Hound didn’t bring them.”
“Yanmeng?”
“Guilty.”
She made some tea for the two of them and brought several croissants and a couple of plates over to the table.
Xietai’s blood is on my hands.
She picked up a croissant and began to eat it in her favorite fashion: by pulling off one tip and then gently unraveling it. No butter or jam. Watson’s Bakery made their croissants from scratch rather than using frozen ones, and the only thing wrong with these was that they were already an hour or two out of the oven.
“I’m sorry about the loss of your friend,” Yanmeng said.
Maliha nodded. She didn’t want to talk about it now.
“Yanmeng,” she said between mouthfuls, “do you believe in unconditional love?” It was her indirect way of asking how he felt about his son’s death
And then there’s Lucius.
Bits of their brief time together flitted through her mind. The crossbow bolt Lucius shot through her shoulder . . . the shimmering of his armor in the moonlight . . . their first kiss in a dark alley after he’d saved her life . . . the bloody heart outline he’d carved on a tree for her in the wilds of Ethiopia. She’d thought he was her true soul mate. Lucius was in his demon Sidana’s private Underground. Even if she collected all the shards and destroyed the demons, she had no idea how to retrieve a person from a demon’s fortress in hell. Wasn’t it likely that when she snuffed out a demon, everything the demon possessed would disappear with him in a puff of smoke?
Sidana owns Lucius for eternity. I love Lucius as my one true love, my soul mate. But he’s a shadow now, a dream I can’t touch. No soul mate for me here in the Great Above, but there’s Jake. As long as I keep Lucius locked inside my heart . . . Why not? I could be normal with Jake. He talks about a house in the mountains and kids. . . .
She hugged the pillow to her chest and let the tears flow, and was finally able to sleep.
She woke just a few hours later with the rest of the condo quiet. Hound was either gone or resting, so she took some time to work on her latest book in the Dick Stallion series, Hot and Bothered . The books were something she’d taken up to have a visible means of support. Maliha had accumulated wealth over quite a few normal lifetimes: precious metals and gems, art, collectible items, and investments. Still, she liked to have a job that explained away at least the tip of the iceberg of her vast wealth. The Dick Stallion books were designed like pulp detective fiction from the 1930s, down to the garish covers and the cheap, yellow paper. To her surprise, they became wildly popular, and she couldn’t write them fast enough to keep up with the demands of her agent and publisher.
In this passage, Dick had gratuitous sex with an airline attendant somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, unaware that the attendant was a recruiter for an international sex ring of bored housewives. She reported him to the Guiltless Orgasm Society as a candidate. After deplaning in Paris, he proceeded with his improbable adventure of saving the kidnapped daughter of a fabulously wealthy philanthropist while evading the Paris chapter of GOS.
Later, she removed Hound’s bandage and took a shower. She adjusted the spray as hot and hard as it would go, sending liquid needles into her injured back. It was painful but in a good, cleansing way. Then she turned her face up to the water and accepted the pummeling for unspecified sins past and future.
Wrapped in a thick cotton robe, Maliha went into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten in a long time. There was a bag on the counter full of fresh croissants from Watson’s Bakery in the lobby area of her building.
“Thank you, Hound!”
“Hound didn’t bring them.”
“Yanmeng?”
“Guilty.”
She made some tea for the two of them and brought several croissants and a couple of plates over to the table.
Xietai’s blood is on my hands.
She picked up a croissant and began to eat it in her favorite fashion: by pulling off one tip and then gently unraveling it. No butter or jam. Watson’s Bakery made their croissants from scratch rather than using frozen ones, and the only thing wrong with these was that they were already an hour or two out of the oven.
“I’m sorry about the loss of your friend,” Yanmeng said.
Maliha nodded. She didn’t want to talk about it now.
“Yanmeng,” she said between mouthfuls, “do you believe in unconditional love?” It was her indirect way of asking how he felt about his son’s death
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