To Hell and Back (Mel Goes to Hell Series Book 4) Page 6

  Mephi nodded and flipped open the file with a shapely talon. "Three weeks ago, she was scheduled to fly to Heathrow. I booked the flights myself and I saw her in the office only a few hours before her departure. It's the last time I saw Miss Black. Her frequent-flyer miles indicate that she boarded the flight, but I have no record of London accommodation. Her credit card statement for the following day shows a purchase in something called Asda Omagh."

  "Where?" Mel's suddenly alert pose mirrored Mephi's. "Asda where?"

  "Omagh. It's in Northern Ireland. And I have a note from her telling me she was expecting a call from someone named Patrick. I never received it, so he must have called her back direct. That's the last day of her credit card statement and the next one's not due for another fortnight, so I don't know any more about her transactions. She hasn't sent a single email since she left the country."

  Mel rose. "I need to call Patrick. Mephi, can you please book flights for next week? Looks like Luce and I are headed to London. Oh, and please find out if Bob can be the acting CEO during our absence. Luce, can you get me a list of your business contacts in the UK and Ireland? If Persi's there for business, I'm sure she'll have spoken to at least one of them. Who would she know?"

  London? But weren't he and Mel needed here with the HELL Corporation? Luce tried to wrap his head around her sprinting thought processes and fell even further behind. "She'd know the government officials we met in London. That's all."

  Mel nodded. "Fine. I'll arrange our accommodation in London."

  Mephi coughed. "I usually take care of that. I have a list of Mr Iblis' preferred London hotels. I'll arrange a suite for each of you so you have all the privacy you need." She eyed Luce, as if expecting him to argue.

  "That won't be necessary, Mephi," Mel said. "I prefer to stay in my friend's flat in Knightsbridge, where there'll be plenty of room for Luce and myself. Let me know what dates you can book flights for. Luce, please tell me when your contacts can meet with us. We'll need to arrive the day before the meeting, I think."

  "Do I have to go?" Luce asked. He wanted to avoid the nephilim as much as possible.

  "Yes," Mel responded. "Your business contacts there will expect to meet with you and not some girl they've never met before. It's not all bad. You'll have one of your wishes granted." He perked up but she continued before he could say a word, "I'll be your PA for the day."

  Luce jumped and whooped, to Mephi's shocked disapproval. "And how personal will your assistance get?"

  He raised suggestive eyebrows.

  "Mr Iblis!" Mephi exploded.

  "The spare key is…here," murmured Mel, feeling around the doorframe. The key was dusty but functional, as she demonstrated by turning it in the lock. The door opened silently – a tiny crack revealing more light inside than the dim passage where they stood. "If you take our bags in, I'll put the key back and be right behind you."

  Luce shouldered the door open and wheeled both suitcases into the tiny entrance hall. The bags thumped behind him as he dragged them up the stairs.

  On her tiptoes, trying to stick the key back behind the moulding, Mel heard Luce's voice call, "Ah, Mel? Is this supposed to be here?"

  "Is what supposed to be here?" she asked, trudging up the stairs after him. Her exhausted steps were slower than normal – she needed a good sleep after such a long flight. "The one thing I want most is a bed and as long as there's one of those, I'm in Heaven already."

  Luce made space for her on the landing where he stood, staring. "A near-naked man wearing a skirt and drinking Scotch on the sofa."

  Mel's face lit up. "Patrick!" She stumbled across the carpet to give the shirtless Patrick a hug. And a kiss, to Luce's smouldering anger.

  "I couldn't sit on the other side of the Irish Sea and not come to see you, knowing you were so close. I wanted to congratulate you personally – and hear the story from your own lovely lips. Of course, I dressed for the occasion." He gestured at his tartan kilt. "I even brought a bottle of my best to loosen those lips a little." He waved at the whisky on the table and the empty glass beside it.

  Luce squinted at the label. "There's a Laphroaig I haven't tasted." He crossed to the table and poured a little into the glass, lifting it to his nose. "It sure smells good." He savoured a small sip before saying, "Now that's something I'd happily wait a quarter of a century for." He held out the glass to Mel. "You should taste this. I want to take a bottle home with me."

  Patrick laughed heartily. "Well, at least the devil has good taste. And he knows how to treat a lady. Maybe this is one snake I'll tolerate – even share a house with, though I wish you'd warned me, Mel meum." He waved at the well-muscled torso Mel admired. "I might've put on a shirt."

  Mel's laughter was gentler by far. "I wasn't sure how you'd react, Patrick. Some people are so hostile to Luce that it's easier not to mention him in advance. Even Raphael's been rather rude – I had to reprimand him over it. It's not like any of us are perfect and it seems that Luce has a talent for revealing all our imperfections in the most unpleasant ways." She stepped forward to take the glass Luce offered, before inhaling and drinking deeply.

  Both men watched her blissful face as she held the liquid in her mouth before swallowing. Mel's eyes darted from Patrick's slightly lifted kilt to Luce shifting uncomfortably in his pants as if he wanted to loosen them. She sighed deeply. "I'm really looking forward to drinking more of this with both of you boys. Luce tells a tale at least as well as I do and most likely better, but it's been a very long flight, so I'd really like the storytelling session to wait until after I've had a lot more sleep. Please, Patrick – which guest room is ours?"

  Patrick seemed to hesitate for only a moment before saying, "Your room is the same as always, Mel meum. I can prepare another room for Lucifer, if you like. All I'll need to do is get some fresh linen." His eyes stayed on Mel, as if he knew that Luce himself would have no say in the matter.

  Mel set her empty glass down. "One room is plenty, thank you." She turned to Luce. "Can you bring the suitcases, my love? I know you probably don't need to sleep, but I'd like it if you could stay with me until I drift off."

  "If that's what you want," Luce replied, following her down the hall until they reached the bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him, only to discover that Mel hadn't waited for privacy before pulling her clothes off. Luce stood with his back to the door, admiring the view. When she was down to her knickers, he couldn't resist any more – he crossed the room in two strides to wrap his arms around her, pulling her in close for a kiss.

  Mel responded, but she was slow and uncharacteristically clumsy. "I'm sorry, Luce. I'm so tired that I can barely stand any more. I should…find my pjs and sleep…" she yawned, "but I want a cup of…"

  "I'll get it," Luce interrupted. "Let me help you to bed first." For the second, precious time, he lifted her into bed. She seemed almost as tired as she'd been the first time – after she'd walked naked through Hell for him and fallen asleep on his bathroom floor. One more kiss and he left in search of the kitchen.

  Patrick was in the kitchen already and still only wearing his tartan skirt.

  "Do you have any…?" Luce stopped as Patrick pointed to a mug of milk on the bench. It hadn't been there long – it still had bubbles on top from the turbulence of being poured from the bottle. "Thanks." He returned to Mel, mug in hand.

  Mel was almost asleep already, but sat up to gulp down the contents of the cup before handing it back to Luce. "Thank you." She sank back into the pillow, reaching for him. "Lie with me for a few minutes?"

  Luce kicked off his shoes and stretched out behind her, spooning nice and close. Mel gave a contented sigh and settled against him. "I love you," he said softly.

  "Mmm, love you, too," she mumbled.

  Luce didn't have long to wait before Mel's breathing slowed to her normal sleeping rhythm. Carefully, he levered himself off the bed and returned to the kitchen.

  Patrick was still there, sipping his whisky. "Want one?" he aske
d, pulling a clean glass from the overhead cupboard. Luce nodded. Patrick poured two fingers' worth for him and picked up his own drink again. "To Mel getting a good night's sleep," he said, waiting for Luce to raise his glass before drinking.

  Luce took his time savouring the taste before he swallowed. "If you've poisoned it, I think I'll still drink the rest. This is too good to waste."

  "I'd not poison something as good as this. The alcohol in it is poison enough for me. If I wanted to add something to it, I'd give you the cheap stuff and not my best. Besides, you're hers. I'd never do something against her wishes."

  "How'd you know about the milk?" Luce asked.

  Patrick grinned. "She's a lady with particular tastes and they don't change. At least I didn't have to go out into the ice and snow to milk a goat for it this time. I bet she didn't sleep on the plane at all, either."

  "She insisted on economy class and spent the whole time just listening to the other passengers, she said, as she planned what to do when we landed. I could've paid for first class tickets so she could sleep, but she wouldn't hear of it." Luce shook his head. "What are you to her?"

  "I'm me. I manage the UK and Ireland, helping out with Europe as necessary. I do…whatever Mel asks me to do. And I always will." Another grin, another sip and the saint didn't continue.

  Luce felt his frustration build. Getting information out of this angel was like trying to seduce Mel when he'd still been a demon. "Have you slept with her?" he blurted out, betting he wouldn't get a straight answer.

  "Whenever she asks me to – of course. Same as you," Patrick said. He laughed. "You think I'd be wandering around wearing nothing but my kilt if it weren't for her? I never wore one of these things when I was alive. I wore one to an official meeting once, where I met her. Oh, centuries ago now. I've been hers ever since. I've only met one of her other close friends – a Japanese fellow named Koyane. She meets up with him whenever she's in Japan, Korea and occasionally China. No idea how many she has – not enough, I'm sure, though I can name plenty who'd be willing. She's very particular about who she chooses."

  "An angel with a harem of fuck buddies? I never picked Mel for someone who'd keep a man in every port."

  Patrick's eyes turned shrewd. "Is that what you think you are to her? She'd never put it so crudely, but I suspect she relies on you more than you realise. She wouldn't have brought you here with her without some reason for it. She wouldn't trust you if she didn't know you were hers – mind, body and soul."

  "What, like some sort of minion? Is she building an army to take over Heaven or something? Because it'll never work. I've tried that and…I swore I'd never do it again. She wouldn't be stupid enough to…"

  Patrick laughed. "Do you even know who she is?"

  "She's Mel. Lady Muriel of the Hashmallim. The one woman – the only angel – I'd do anything for," Luce replied, annoyed. "Of course I know who she is."

  "Lady Muriel, leader of the Hashmallim. The angel in charge of keeping order in all the realms of this world. Earth, Heaven and Hell. I heard she took charge of your little patch only recently, so perhaps you didn't know the rest, for she's left you to yourself for longer than I thought she would. She doesn't need an army to take control of Heaven. She manages it already. Oh, there are angels that outrank her in other respects, but she's the one who runs the place." He eyed Luce. "It's setting an army against Heaven without her at your side that's stupid."

  Luce felt the desire building to punch the angel, breaking his perfect nose or blackening one of those green eyes. But that meant he'd have to heal the man afterwards, or explain to Mel in the morning. Being a demon was much easier than being an angel again, he fumed.

  Patrick seemed to sense his thoughts. "I'm sorry if that came across as insensitive. I wasn't born when you had your battle for Heaven. I don't share the bitterness that other angels have. I only know what I've heard – and that Mel wasn't there. She doesn't open up to many, you know. She's sweet and kind to everyone, but she doesn't share herself much. Her thoughts, her feelings, her doubts…her vulnerabilities. If she trusts you, I must, too. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or if we've fought as bitter enemies in the past. No one reads souls as clearly as she does. If she thinks you're worthy of her trust…then you have mine." He raised his glass and tipped the last of the contents into his mouth.

  Luce lifted his in response. "This is way too civilised. Shouldn't we be fighting it out for her, like a couple of testosterone-fuelled humans? Aren't you even the slightest bit jealous that she wants to sleep with me instead of you?" He thought the angel looked uneasy for the first time, but it was barely perceptible.

  Patrick shrugged, his smile never leaving his face. "She chooses who she wants and I will always be available if she needs me. Mel knows that. What she needs most now is someone to take care of her – someone who'll offer what she needs because she'll never ask. She looked so stressed the last time I saw her in Sri Lanka. She was worrying about you when she should have been resting. I tried to get her to relax a little, but even the days I had with her weren't enough for her to recharge properly. Maybe I shouldn't have taken her fishing…but how was I to know she'd catch a monster fighting fish?"

  Sri Lanka. Fishing. Luce's thoughts darted to the photos of the one holiday Mel had taken from the HELL Corporation. "You went to Sri Lanka with her?" Jealousy bit at his insides.

  "No, I met her there after the conference, for less than two days before our flights were scheduled to leave. Did she show you the photos I took?" Patrick asked. "She still seemed sad when she left. She's happier now, but…more tired, too. Maybe it's just the long flight and she'll look healthier once she's had a good night's sleep or three. If she doesn't, you need to take better care of her or I'll step in. Your ego takes second place to Mel. She's too important."

  Luce swore he'd take Mel on a proper holiday when they got back. No fishing. Just…whatever she wanted.

  "She's everything to me. Everyone else just seems to want to make life harder for the two of us. You might be the first person who wants to help her instead of trying to pry us apart. I think I'm beginning to like you, angel. If she trusts you…" He drank. "And you have damn good taste in whisky. I wondered where Mel developed her taste for the stuff. She didn't have a drop of alcohol in her house when I turned up…tried to warm me up with tea!"

  "I bet it worked, too. Something from a teapot without any milk that tasted surprisingly good. She knows exactly what to do…and she hardly needs alcohol to help someone relax! I'll never be as good as she is, but she's had millennia of practice." Patrick winked. "Was she fast asleep when you left her?"

  Luce nodded. "Out like a light. She'll probably sleep for at least the next eight hours, if not more. Don't tell her, but I'm definitely going to try to get us first class seats for the flight home. It was heartbreaking, seeing the state she was in when we landed after going so long without sleep. I thought I was going to have to carry her as well as the suitcases. If I surprise her, maybe she'll agree to take the seats instead of finding a way to torture herself again."

  "If she's as deeply asleep as you say, then she already knows. No need for me to tell her. You should, though – tell her you want to give her luxury to take care of her. She'll understand that and she might even agree. Right, Mel?" He paused, as if waiting for her to reply, but she didn't appear or make a sound. "She's the best soul-reader, but she's also a skilled spirit-walker. Once her body was resting properly, she'd have come right back here to listen to us and make sure we weren't ripping shreds off each other. I doubt she missed much." Patrick grinned. "So, tell me, Lucifer, former demon and Lord of Hell. Can you see her?"

  Luce stared at the man, then searched the room, looking for signs that they weren't alone. He closed his eyes, seeking with his other senses, too – but found nothing and no one else. Tossing up between telling the truth and saying nothing at all, he wished he could lie like a demon again. "No," he admitted finally. "Can you?"

  Patrick hesitated
. "No, I can't. And I won't unless she wants me to. I thought…the rumours said she'd bonded with you, so maybe you'd be able to. I guess the rumours were wrong."

  Luce didn't know what to say. After so long not trusting anyone, it was hard to place his trust in this stranger, no matter how much Mel took him into her confidence. "I think Mel wanted us to wait before telling tales of Hell. She wanted to be awake." He downed the last of his whisky, relishing the burn as it descended. "I know it's early, but I think I might need rest almost as much as she does. It was a long flight." He gave Patrick a nod and headed back to the room he shared with Mel.

  She hadn't moved, so he stripped and slid into bed beside her. Sleep ambushed him soon after.

  Mel's silky skin slid over Luce's as her warm weight settled on top of him. She laid a line of kisses across his chest before angling upward to claim his lips. Her tongue tickled his, inviting him to give her everything. And he wanted to. God, how much he wanted to.

  Dreams didn't come any better than this.

  Gentle laughter accompanied the softness of her lips on his neck. "You're not dreaming, my love."

  Luce pried his eyes open. Sunlight from the casement windows haloed his precious angel, who was perched on top of him with every glorious curve on display.

  "The most Heavenly wake-up call ever," he mumbled.

  She wet her lips. "I think I might be able to improve on it."

  Oh God she was good…

  "Good morning. Looks like you brought a tiny bit of sunlight with you. I bet that won't last – London weather's horrible on a good day."

  Luce squinted at the doorway, which framed a cheerful Patrick. Didn't the saint care that he was interrupting an intimate moment?

  "I'd hoped to be at your disposal today, but somehow SIS heard about my arrival and I've been dragged over to Downing Street for meetings all day," Patrick continued, seemingly oblivious. "I insisted I couldn't stay past five, though, so I'll be home for dinner and I'd like to make it up to you by taking you to a place nearby that does the most exquisite venison. If David needs me past five, then he'll just have to join us. Good luck today!" The door clicked shut behind him.