Chapter 19
What number was this? The fifth or sixth 'coincidental run-in' with Peter? There was something different about this one though: this was the first time seeing this amount of rage shine through his stone front. The man was full on livid.
Oops, my bad, I mean the fallen angel was livid. His dirty blonde locks and active-wear clothing was the same as always. But I would never look at him the same. Not after what I learned. Who would have thought that I would prefer him staying just the weirdo stalker?
Peter's entry grabbed the obnoxious patrons' attention. He received a few laughs, a few stiff stares. But nobody seemed threatened. Famine remained relaxed as Peter rigidly stormed over to our table.
"Should have known you were this stupid," he hissed, yanking me to my feet.
"Let go of me." I ripped my arm away, but not without grabbing my chair to steady my legs from my sudden dizziness. "I'm not your fucking property!"
"So you want to be this degenerate pig's property instead?!" His blazing eyes darted to Famine. "Stay the fuck away from her."
"Why? What have I done?" he asked innocently, but with taunting eyes.
"For starters, you're draining the life out of her."
What? My heavy eyes found Famine. I was getting more weak and tired and sore. I didn't realize he was the source. "You're doing this to me?" My heavy legs invited me to slump back into the chair, only to be yanked up roughly again by Peter. Scowling, I snapped at him. "Don't fucking touch me! You're a liar, you're not even a person!"
Peter jutted a finger at Famine. "You think that thing is a person?"
Thing? I paused for a horror-filled moment.
Famine took the last sip of his drink before switching it out with mine. "Don't let him get you all worked up, doll. I'm a person. I'm human."
"He is half human. Half demon."
"Like there's a difference," Famine scoffed.
An unsettling wave ran through me. I was the last person to ask about this stuff, but a fucking demon?! That couldn't be anything good, especially after what he shared about demons! I was a gullible idiot! I shouldn't have ignored the dangerous vibe around him.
"Peter, it's always a pleasure seeing a miserable stiff like yourself. But I'm in the middle of a conversation you were too good and too busy to have with this poor girl," Famine sneered, and while he stayed relaxed, disdain shined in his eyes.
"Well, you should have made your pathetic business pitch in one of her dreams because we're leaving."
Our exchange drew more attention. There was still chatter, but more people watched in interest. Two burly men were eyeing us up too. One even stood up and neared us.
That seemed to be Peter's que to leave. He wrapped an arm around me to guide me. Ugh, I was sick of being handled like a doll!
"Would you fuck off?!" I exclaimed, trying to weakly shove him and his hold away.
"Leaving so soon? After barging into my bar?" Famine chimed.
Not budging, Peter pinned me to his side as he started to guide my weak body towards the back door. Then, as we past Famine...he turned in his chair and abruptly grabbed my wrist, turning me towards him. When his chestnut eyes found mine... digging deep... my knees suddenly began to buckle!
What the fuck?! How was he doing this?! It's like a chunk of my remaining energy disappeared. I nearly collapsed to the floor, but Peter's strong arm tightened and ripped my wrist out of Famine's smooth fingers. He weaved us through the tables, basically dragging me, but not before catching one last glimpse of Famine. Sipping my drink, he winked with a wicked smirk before my dizzy vision readjusted.
The movement made it worse. I really did not feel good. Peter took more of my weight, but it didn't slow him down. Or my stomach. "I'm think I'm going to be sick...." I whispered.
"Where you going, fly-boy?!" someone called out to him.
"Peter-Peter-wife-beater...." a female sang with a cackle.
He rushed us out the back door and into the night air. It was the same door we entered from... but I had to second guess myself. When he dragged me around the building to the parking lot on the side... I was floored and shocked. It wasn't vacant like earlier. What the hell? I was dizzy, but I wasn't seeing double.
An hour ago, my car was the only vehicle in sight. Now, other cars filled the lot and were lined along the building. Hell, the building itself even looked different. High red windows were present like how they were inside. But where did the broken ones go from when I was outside earlier? I highly doubt someone switched them out during the short time I was inside. Then again, based on the dark sky, clearly, I lost track of the time. Wait, where was my car? Mine was no longer where I parked it.
"Where did you teleport my car to now?" I mumbled, groaning as I gripped at my stomach. Yes, even while weak and feeling sick, I still managed being a smart-ass.
Supporting my side, Peter slowed his pace and loosened his hold just enough so he could reach down and take my palm. Hand in mine, we stumbled into the middle of the parking lot. Then suddenly... everything changed. Like a flick of a light switch.
Everything in view, everything around us, snapped into a different picture.
One second, the parking lot was packed with vehicles. The next, they were all gone except for my car that magically was back where I parked it. The sky snapped from dark to a misty afternoon gray. The height of the building dropped, the bricks were withered, and the original broken windows were back. My eyes grew wide. My sluggish legs froze. What... in the absolute fuck? Was this even real? It was as if we entered the same location, but different time. Or rather reentered reality from an alternative one.
I took in our new surroundings that snapped into place. I was still exhausted and weak, but my clouded mind cleared. I almost wished it hadn't. How was I supposed to handle all that happened? Including popping back into reality?! Famine must have taken me elsewhere without me realizing it. Well, taken me to another version of this place or maybe another time? I didn't know! How did any of that happen?!
Keeping my hand in his, Peter turned my unstable body to him. I realized what he was doing too late. As he raised his hand towards my forehead, I tried moving back. Oh hell the fuck no, he better not—
***
The first time this asshole knocked me out, I woke up on his couch. The second time he knocked me out, I woke up in his car. Not 24 hours after that, he now knocked me out for the third time. Peter clearly didn't want me to get bored because I woke up on a goddamn boat.
I suppose it was more like a yacht. Covered by a low ceiling and enclosed windows on all sides, I was laying on tan leather couch when I woke up. My eyes suddenly open, Peter was hovered next to me. His hand rested on my arm, just grasping it. The same irritation from earlier was plainly on his face. For what? Good question. Because if anyone had the right to be irritated, it was me. I wasn't fucking happy guys, not one bit.
I pulled away from him, stood up, and happily ignored my still tired muscles. The interior contained a cozy living area. There was a huge TV, a mini-kitchen, and more seating with a dining table. Through the windows, the sky revealed it was the same dreary evening (seeing him wearing the same black tee and nylon joggers gave that away too). The only difference was we were out on the water. Not sure why. He couldn't fluff me up with his expensive boat. Not after he fucking knocked me out again!
My hands clenched at my sides. "Don't you dare ever knock me out again."
"Want a burger?" he sneered, nodding to the bag of fast food on the counter. "You were so busy making mistake after mistake today, I doubt you've had anything to eat."
"Seriously?! Do you know what I just went through?!" I demanded, marching up to him.
"Yes. That's why I got you food."
"Listen to me! Don't you even knock me out or make me fall asleep like that again!" My eyes watered, but my voice remained stern. "I've been used, betrayed, I feel violated – and I'm not some cheap toy you can just turn off whenever you're sick of listening to me! You cannot drag me around and handle me like I'm nothing! You can't make me sleep whenever it's convenient. Unlike you, I'm a fucking person."
His jaw tightened under the faint stubble. It took a lot for him to not snap back at me. "Everything I've done has been for your own good," he said in a controlled tone.
"If that's true, then I deserve respect. Do not knock me out like that ever again."
For how stubborn he was, I expected my pissy demand to make it worse. Instead, it seemed to be the key. Searching my eyes, he didn't say anything for a long moment. His silence was confirmation that he understood. There even seemed to be a tinge of admiration beyond the frustration in his face when he gave a short nod.
Now that I spoke my word, I sighed. "Not sure how it's all for my own good anyway. I tell you I'm sick and your first instinct is to put me on a boat," I mumbled, blinking my tired eyes. I felt somewhat better, but I was still dazed and out of it. "Why am I still so weak and achy?"
"You woke up before I was finished – and clearly way before your nap killed any chance of nagging," he grumbled, stepping closer to take my hands.
The moment both of his hands clasped mine... the weight of my eyelids eased. My awareness started to heighten. I was suddenly more awake and alert; the soreness in my muscles were there, but slowly began to fade after a moment.
Astonished, I looked down to our hands. The ink that was scattered along his arms and wrists led up to his strong hands. The skin of his fingers, the hairs on his strong arms... it all looked so normal, but they were anything but that. He was beyond his appearance and sharp personality. I couldn't believe he was able to do this.
He was filling me with the energy I lost earlier. It was almost like he was healing me... except this time I was awake for it. I realized there was no going back. Instead of denying his abilities, Peter was finally displaying them. It reminded me that he wasn't your everyday asshole. He was a special asshole. One that, despite everything, was protecting and helping me.
"Since looking the other way is impossible, should I start putting a bag over my head instead?" I half joked.
"A bag might work." His light brown eyes flicked up to mine. "It would keep you from seeing what I plan on showing you. That's the reason we are on my boat. So you can't escape."
"Oh, you're keeping me prisoner. Wonderful."
His frustrated gaze warmed. "Just for a little bit."
"What are you going to show me?"
"You'll see."
You'll see. Not sure if that was better than 'look the other way.' I didn't know how much more I could handle. "You know, maybe I should move back to Illinois. None of this happened before coming here."
His strong hands squeezed, stressing his words. "Josephine... this will follow you anywhere you go."
"Kind of like you?"
He fought a smirk. "Yes, kind of like me."
It was a calm and soothing moment. Standing in the middle of the room, I couldn't help but feel... less tired and rejuvenated with my hands in his. It truly was incredible. Peter made a point to not make any more eye contact as he continued to... what were the right words? 'Fill me up' sounded pervy. Replenishing my energy? Sounded lame, but I guess that's close. That's basically what was happening.
It started to feel awkward and tense, like usual between us. However, that's when his eyes caught something. A brow arched, and his usually straight lips wavered. "What's on the back of your hand?"
"What?"
"Is that a stamp?"
It was barely noticeable, but there was faded blue coloring on my hand. My shower earlier made it mostly disappear, but there was still faintly there. "Oh, um, yeah."
"What did it say?"
"Um... 'Certified Cock Champ' if I recall," I said with a nonchalant shrug.
He cocked an amused brow. "Ah."
"Yeah, since I came home this morning wearing your coat, David inducted me into the official 'Walk of Shame Hall of Fame.' Sealed it with his stamp of approval," I scoffed.
"Congratulations."
"Thanks," I snorted. "Highlight of the day."
His gaze warmed. "That's the highlight out of everything that's happened today, huh?"
"It's been a boring day."
His lips failed to fight a bright smile. "Right. Very uneventful."
Chuckling, I watched him closely. That smile and teasing exchange was like peaking behind a cold curtain. It was intriguing – as was how quickly that curtain closed. Flattening his smile, he adverted his gaze. Why fight positive emotion? Why hide that he wasn't a complete dick? It made me wonder if he was just pretending to be one.
Not sure if I could handle wondering much more though. All I wanted when I sought out that address were answers. Now, after the few I received... I wasn't eager for more. I had enough to comprehend and process.
"This is crazy. Like you're seriously giving me energy through your hands?" I whispered.
"I'm not holding your hands because I'm lonely."
"Thanks ass, I'm aware. It's just hard to accept that that would even be possible."
"All of this will be hard to accept," he said, glancing back up to me. "Yes though, I'm replenishing your energy. It's the same thing as healing a wound. I am giving your body what it needs," he said, finally dropping my hands. Sure enough, it worked. I wasn't tired or weak; in fact, I felt as if I just had the best night's sleep ever.
Insides fluttering, I swallowed. "Let me get this straight. You can make people pass out. You can heal wounds, and give people energy." He demonstrated all those things on me. However, there was one thing I didn't experience. "You can also mess with memories too. Just not mine. Am I right?"
Peter stared into my eyes for a long moment. A long moment. He didn't want to acknowledge what he denied before. But finally... he did. "Correct."
Receiving confirmation from the guy that refused to give it made my heart pick up. Theories and second-hand sources were now validated by the guy himself. Peter could do life-changing work. He could manipulate people, inside and out, but more profoundly: he could heal injuries with his bare hands. It was beautiful... and pointed strongly to what I was told earlier.
"So you're..." I paused. It was so hard to say. "You're really an angel?"
His eyes reluctantly returned. "I'm a fallen angel. There's a difference."
I snorted. "Is that why you're such an ass? You were cut from the varsity team?"
Rolling his eyes, he turned and headed past the mini-kitchen to the door. "I'm an ass because I have to put up with you."
My smart comment, my snap judgements, they were all I had right now. Because undertaking the truth was not simple. I might as well be four years old taking a college philosophy class – and being told Santa did not exist. This was just so... outlandish for my little world. I couldn't fully appreciate the scope of him being otherworldly. For now, it was just about small steps. It was just about taking it in and handling the weight later.
Following him outside, the soft sea breeze sifted over my skin. The ceiling of the interior continued, providing a roof to a patio area. He passed the built-in outdoor furniture until he was under the sky and sparse mist. Reaching the edge, he grabbed the railing and looked out. There was no land in sight thanks to the fog.
Aware I was behind him, he spoke in a hard voice. "Care to tell me about your friend you failed to mention before?"
"Depends. Would you care to tell me all the answers you refused to give me before?"
Spinning towards me, he snapped at me. "This is serious. Famine is not safe. He's rotten with a dead and nasty heart! Don't ever speak with him, trust him, go with him anywhere again."
The reminder of my time earlier with Famine opened an uneasy pit in my stomach. "You don't have to tell me twice. It's not like I had an option though."
"Choosing to make logical decisions is always an option."
"So is telling me what is going on instead of forcing me to make desperate decisions!" I exclaimed, marching into the misty air and up to him. "I always own up to my mistakes. I blame myself for things that aren't even my fault. I will be the first one to tell you that I screwed up by trusting him. Tell me what else I should have done though! You refused to give me anything about what was happening around me! I tried so many times! You send me home covered in blood and tell me this will keep happening, so what the fuck else was I supposed to do? It was stupid on my part, but you had as much of a part to play in it!"
"My part concerned keeping you safe and in the dark. These answers are not meant for you. They will do nothing for you. They will only cause more problems. I was trying to spare you that burden. Now, I'm forced to give you answers. If I don't, you would just run back to him."
I scoffed. "You really think I would seek him out again?"
"If I don't fill you in, you would."
"Not after he tricked me and drained me! Before that, I had no context. Plus, he was just... he was so...."
He cocked a brow. "Seductive?"
"Well... yeah."
"That's what he does. Half demons are naturally attractive, designed to tempt people, seduce them, manipulate them, and ruin their lives."
"It doesn't make sense though. He said he wanted to pr—"
"Protect you and help you?"
Peter hit the nail on the head – or the bullseye with the egg. Looking off into the water, I sighed. "Yeah," I said softer, with embarrassment and disappointment. "I guess the web he was spinning was bigger than I thought."
"It's in their blood to be calculating," he said with a humorless grimace, catching my eyes again. The faint mist dotted his hardening expression. "I don't know what he told you, but most of it was probably true – except for important shit like his intentions. He tells enough truth to be a cunning liar. That's what they are built to do, Josephine. They lie, cheat, and pull strings." With a softer tone, he continued. "He'll pretend to help you when it's about fucking you over. He wants to use you."
"Why did he wait until now to try? He knew where I lived. He trapped me by my car at work. Why didn't he just take me then or something?"
"That's not his style of business. He makes people smile before stabbing them in the back. Plus, luring you into his world was safer for him. It effectively got you away from us. If you couldn't tell from when the daylight literally snapped back into place, he took you further than just the other side of that door."
Talk about another impossible new truth. Out of everything, that was the most jarring thing I've ever witnessed. Like a switch, everything in view snapped and changed. "That's a whole other messy can of worms," I sighed, tensely biting my misty lip. "We were in the same place, but it... it like switched to a different time. When you grabbed my hand, everything went back to how it was when I arrived."
"It wasn't a different time of day. It was a different... place," he explained, but slowed his words with a mild irritation. "If you went looking for that bar on your own, you would not find it. So before you call the cops on a bar for serving minors – since that's your favorite pastime – don't bother. That warehouse will be empty because that bar is on a different plane of existence."
This dude was losing me and losing me fast. "Okay. Plane?"
"As you've learned, contact does many things – for me and for him. The only way humans can travel there is through physical contact. So when I took your hand... we returned and re-entered this plane. You just didn't realize you left it in the first place. Famine must have brought you through the portal right when you stepped into the bar. That's why you didn't notice it."
This was too much. Being over-exposed to grand-scale information numbed my emotions, but not my body. I was just burying everything, shoving it aside for later, but this hit my limit and with a harsh crash.
"A different plain? A different reality or world?" I asked, letting out a loud laugh that showed my nerves. Like what the fuck people?! Could it get any crazier? Heaven and Hell existed. Famine was a half demon. Peter was a fallen angel. I was lured into a bar on a different reality! It was so disturbing and ridiculous, I couldn't stop laughing. "Oh okay, whatever, that's no big deal," I joked, my body becoming uneasy.
Clearly, my shock was only surface. Because even if I couldn't process it, my body was rejecting it. A barbed wire grated my stomach with each laugh. Suddenly, my saliva drowned my humor.
I grabbed the damp metal railing and closed my eyes. "Can contact stop me from throwing up? It can do everything else."
"What?"
If it could, it was too late. Throwing my head over the side, I threw up and into the water.