Damon touched her again, and her climax took her; she cried out, grabbing the bedsheets, as if to keep herself from flying away.
In the midst of it all, Damon went rigid and gasped her name. It seemed to go on for a long time for him, his release, powerful and intense. Then, as he collapsed in a panting heap on the mattress, he reached blindly for her and pulled her close.
Sweat dampened his skin, and hers. Exhausted, she kissed him, tasting salt, inhaling his scent.
“Ah, Harmony, love.” His deep voice vibrated in his chest, his breath hot against her ear. “Ah, my sweet angel.”
She came up on her elbow and smiled at his stunned expression. “Happy?”
“Aye . . .”
“So, it was everything you hoped it’d be?”
He let out an amazed chuckle. “If this is what it feels like to be human, lass, then I’ve but one thing to say.”
She grinned, trailing her fingertips over his lips. “What’s that?” “Immortality is highly overrated.”
Much later, they lay abed, dozing, limbs tangled after making love yet again. Damon couldn’t get enough of Harmony, but was trying to control his appetite so as not to hurt her. She didn’t seem to have suffered overly much, though, he thought with a smug smile.
He gathered her in his arms as she slept. Deny it she might, but Harmony Faithfull was as close to an angel in human form as he’d ever encountered. And he would know. It’d been many thousands of years since he’d crossed paths with the angels, and even then it was to do battle with the archangels, like Michael and Gabriel, fearsome warriors, equals to him in all ways of war. But it was the stories of the lesser angels that had always captivated him through the long centuries. Sweet, they were said to be, and mysterious, beautiful enough to bring a mortal man to tears, he’d overheard some humans say. Some of the angels were so pure of heart and intentions that they could lure a demon from the inexorable pull of the depths of Hell to the plains of the mortal world. Aye, Lucifer raged for many days after losing one of his best demon high lords in such a fashion. Pompeii was the result of that particular tantrum. Damon knew, because he’d been dispatched on assignment to do Lucifer’s dirty work immediately after. Memories boiled up: Fire . . . the stench of cinders and death. A sky roiling with black, sulfurous smoke. Damon had walked the destroyed streets of the city, feeling nothing, simply doing what he’d been brought into existence to do: planting fear, doubt, and second thoughts, and accomplishing it with no emotion at all. He may have lost his demon’s heightened senses, but not the memory of how it felt to have the darkness inside him, the coldness. How it felt to be empty.
“Unlike now,” he murmured, burying his face in Harmony’s curls. “Unlike now . . .”
Time seemed to stand still as the sun slowly rose. It reached the level of the windowsill and spilled into the bedroom, waking Harmony. “I suppose we should get up.” Her voice was thick from sleep and spent passion.
Damon pulled her close. Slid his hand down her warm belly to find her moist and hot. “Why not stay abed a while longer?”
“Mmm.” Harmony turned in his arms and they kissed, and then he loved her, slowly, carefully, savoring her. Afterward they drowsed in each other’s arms. Damon had never imagined this sort of contentment existed. This happiness. He did not want the day to arrive and interrupt it all. And apparently, neither did his lover.
They dozed a while longer until Bubba came to the bedside, whining to be let out. Since more than dogs could squeeze through the dog door in the kitchen, Harmony kept it locked at night.
Damon offered, “I’ll take him.” Naked, he flung open the door to the solitude of the backyard, scratching his chest as he yawned and waited as the dog trotted onto the lawn.
Bubba lifted his leg and did his business, but instead of returning, he darted across the lawn, barking his announcing-visitors bark.
“Who’s here?” Harmony called from the bed.
Damon squinted toward the road. “Someone’s driving through the front gate. ’Tis a large, silver boxy vehicle.”
“Is it a Humvee?” Harmony’s voice sounded a wee bit strange.
“I dinna know,” he said. “But the license plate says . . . #1 Pastor.”
“Oh, no! No, no, no.” Harmony leaped out of bed, tripping in the tangled sheets as she shoved one arm into her robe and then the other. Damon’s heart sped up at her panic. “They’re here. I can’t believe they’re here. Why do these things always happen to me? I try to live a godly life, and I do . . . well, except for last night, and I don’t regret that for a moment, but this—this is just so typical of my life.” She whipped the robe around her lush body. “I am so busted.”
Damon grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Tell me. Who is in that car?”
“My father. My family. They showed up one week early!”
Fourteen
After the initial burst of panic from the shock of her family’s unexpected arrival blew past, Harmony forced herself into combat mode. It was like the time in Iraq when the shell hit right outside the hospital.
She shoved the rumpled quilt over the sheets, collected scattered pillows, and arranged them hurriedly, wondering where she could arrange Damon where no one would notice him but quickly coming to the conclusion that not a single nook or cranny in the farmhouse would hide a six-foot-five-inch-tall ex-demon.
The doors to the Humvee slammed. Her heart tumbled as she peeked around an eyelet curtain. “They’re unpacking the car, they always do it before coming in, and they’re slow. It’ll buy us some time, but precious little. Just enough time for a shower, I think.” She slapped her hands on his gorgeous bare butt and pushed him toward the bathroom. “We have about two minutes. Maybe less. So I’m coming with you.”
Damon appeared delighted by that fact, until remembering the car in the driveway. Harmony pulled him under the gushing water with her. “This is going to be the fastest shower you’ve ever had.”
They soaped each other hastily.
Harmony grabbed blindly for two towels as water from her soaked hair streamed over her face. “Here’s the plan. I’ll get dressed and go meet them. You go out the side door—grab anything, tools, whatever, make it look like you were working—and I’ll bring them inside and distract them with breakfast.”
He brought his hand to her cheek, a calming touch. “I willna do anything to embarrass you.”
“I know, honey. I know. You’d never embarrass me, Damon. I’m proud to be with you. It’s just that . . .” She waved at the bed. “This isn’t exactly proper behavior for a pastor, and especially for Reverend Faithfull’s daughter.”
He pressed a hurried but heartfelt kiss to her lips. “You dinna need to explain. I know what to do.”
Harmony uttered a prayer of thanks for Damon’s understanding as he grabbed his clothes and hurried out the side door.
Somehow she got herself together, pulling on yoga pants and a T-shirt. She secured her thick mass of soaking wet curls atop her head, jamming in a couple of pins to hold it in place, and burst outside, where Bubba pranced and jumped around her family and their suitcases. Car doors slammed, and her family bustled around the luggage, chattering and laughing, clearly excited to be there. Harmony smiled, her heart filling at the sight of them: Daddy tall and graying, but still so handsome, looking strangely underdressed in his sweatshirt and ironed Levi’s; Mama, regal as always in her role as Reverend Jacob Jethro’s wife but as light on her feet as the star athlete she once was when she met her husband at their high school track meet; Harmony’s oldest brother, Jake Jr., was busy unloading the trunk—one thing about the Faithfulls, they didn’t travel light. And Robbie had come, too, at sixteen the youngest Faithfull, attentive and respectful as he helped Great-grandmother Eudora step down from the rear passenger seat.
Harmony gulped, her stomach dropping. What would the woman see? What would she know? Too much already, Harmony thought, remembering the phone call with her father, when Eudora seemed to know about Damon.
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Walking carefully, methodically, Eudora leaned on her cane. As always, she was dressed to the nines: a sapphire blue skirt set, with clusters of pearls clipped on her ears and around her neck, and a chocolate brown wig slightly askew. Step by careful step, she walked around the front of the truck, sucking on her false teeth. Her cane sank into the squishy, damp grass, and she stopped. Frowning, she shook her head in disapproval. Wheeling a bright red suitcase, Mama joined her to stare at the clods of displaced sod, the gouges and skid marks, the broken sprinkler heads, pieces of tattered cloth, and someone’s forgotten sneaker.
The ruined yard.
“Hell’s bells,” Harmony whispered. She hadn’t realized so much damage had been left behind. Her shaking hand crept up to the little cross she wore around her neck. Lord, give me strength—oh, and the creativity—to come up with some really good answers to their questions . Then, with her mouth formed into the biggest, most welcoming smile she could muster, she glided out to them, her arms wide open. “Wow, isn’t this just the best surprise!”
In the next instant, she was swallowed up in a huddle of love, hugs, and kisses.
“We were going to spend this week in Rocky Mountain National Park,” her father explained, “but when we saw the exit leading to Mysteria—”
“We simply couldn’t pass it by,” Mama finished for him. “I had to see my baby.”
Eudora grasped Harmony’s hands in hers. Her skin was once the color of rich caramel; now it was almost transparent over a network of bluish veins. Despite mild palsy, her grip remained as powerful as her intense gray-brown eyes. “Ah, you’re happy, girl, aren’t you?”
“I am, Great-grandma,” Harmony replied shyly. “Very happy.” She knows what you did last night. The thought popped into Harmony’s mind, clear and simple. Her first instinct was to look away, to break the eye contact, but she stayed strong. Fact: Eudora knew what was going on between her and Damon. No way could she hide it. The best Harmony could hope for was for Great-grandmother not to say anything.
“What happened here?” Mama waved a manicured hand at the lawn.
“Um, a circus,” Harmony blurted. Good one. “Yes, we had a bit of a circus here yesterday after services.” That wasn’t really lying, was it?
Mama brought her hands together in delight. “Isn’t it wonderful, Jake? Our girl’s as creative in spreading the good word as you.”
Harmony shrank back in shame as her father puffed himself up. “I’m proud of you, Harmony. So proud of what you’ve done here in so short of a time.”
Oh, boy. If you only knew.
“You got someone to put in sprinklers,” Jake commented. “Looks like a first-class job. You didn’t do it yourself, did you?”
“I did,” said a familiar deep voice.
Harmony’s heart bounced as Damon strode toward the group, a length of PVC pipe and a new sprinkler head in one hand, his other hand extended in welcome. “I’m Damon, the church groundskeeper.” Dressed in clean clothes, his hair brushed neatly away from his freshly shaven face, Damon looked so bright and alert that no one would ever guess he’d been doing anything other than . . . well, than what he’d been doing all night.
Harmony blushed; she couldn’t help it. “I’d been looking for someone to hire, a handyman and groundskeeper, when Damon came along looking for work. He’s been wonderful, such a help, a blessing, truly.”
At her gushing, Damon seemed almost bashful. The part that touched her the most was that it wasn’t an act. “Reverend Faithfull needed someone for the heavier work so she could concentrate on the church. I’ve been busy making repairs and working in the fields”—he pulled a plump ear of corn from his overalls pocket, to the obvious delight of her family—“and once Harmony approves the plans I’ve drawn up for the barn, Mysteria Community Church will have a new social hall and gym.”
“We will?” Shocked, Harmony watched Damon withdraw a folded piece of paper from his pocket. On it was a detailed drawing that he’d clearly spent a lot of time on and that she’d known nothing about. “Well,” she said, “as you can see, Damon is indispensable.”
Eudora cackled and patted his hand. “I see a lot of things about Damon.”
Harmony’s smile was wooden at best. Why, oh, why did she have to have a seer as a great-grandma? Why couldn’t she have a normal family, who wouldn’t be able to tell that she’d acquired a decidedly out-of-the-ordinary boyfriend?
“You’re a good boy,” the old woman said. Then she winked. “Good, good, good.”
Damon coughed. It was the first time Harmony had seen him blush.
Eudora ran an admiring gaze over Damon’s muscular frame, nodding, her eyes crinkling, then she gave Harmony an admiring, conspiratorial he’s-hot wink before hobbling away to lead the clan to the house.
Harmony sidled up to Damon as her family walked on ahead. Pointing to her eyes, she whispered, “She’s a seer. She can read thoughts sometimes. Just don’t say it out loud.”
“But she knows, lass. She knows what I am.”
“She knows what you were.” Harmony took a deep, calming breath. “And all we have to do is keep the rest of the family from finding out.”
It was like old times with the family hanging around the kitchen counters and table just like they did in the big house in Oakland. After everyone had had a tour of the property, the church, and the house, Harmony prepared a late brunch, laughing and catching up.
Bacon sizzled in a cast-iron pan; grits bubbled thickly in a pot, while Mama stirred gravy for the fluffy, towering biscuits in the oven. Eudora sat at the table, sucking on her false teeth, while the men argued about basketball. “We didn’t have basketball in Scotland,” Damon was telling them.
“Hoops after breakfast,” Robbie decided.
Her father wouldn’t hear of letting Damon sneak away to work, and held him captive in the kitchen as if he were already a member of the family. Damon soaked up the noise and laughter. Harmony’s heart squeezed tight when she realized that this was something he’d never had—a family.
This was all going much better than she’d expected. When was the other shoe going to drop?
It’s not going to drop. After yesterday’s disaster, what could happen today that would be worse than that? Smiling, Harmony set the table, expanded with two extra leaves, and placed a strawberry dipped in powdered sugar as a garnish next to each person’s antique china coffee cup.
She straightened, admiring the festive look the fruit and china brought to the table, and was about to tend to the bacon when in the corner of her eye she saw something move.
She blinked. Surely it was lack of sleep playing tricks with her vision. Please, Lord, let it be that.
She waited for more movement. Nothing. She was seeing things. As soon as the food was ready, everyone sat around the table. Damon, bless his sweet heart, pulled out her chair, taking cues from her father and brother Jake, who did the same for Mama and Eudora.
Even though only one-third of the Faithfulls were in attendance, they were a noisy group, and the conversation filled the small kitchen. Dishes were passed around. When everyone’s plates were filled, they joined hands to say grace.
In the hush that came over the room, Harmony’s coffee cup scraped sideways. Her hand shot out, stopping it. “Fly,” she explained urgently, her heart in her mouth. “They’re really in abundance this time of year.”
The moving cups had been no trick of her eyes. She prayed for inspiration, for an excuse, an explanation, anything at all to hop into her head and out her mouth, but the prospect of monsters from Hell appearing while her family was here had all but paralyzed her.
“Hold Great-grandma’s hand, baby,” her mother urged. “Your father wants to say grace.”
Ever so reluctantly, Harmony withdrew her hand from the cup and slid her fingers back into Eudora’s cool, dry palm. As Reverend Faithfull’s resonant voice boomed, everyone’s eyes were closed, except for Harmony’s. Eyes wide open, she stared at the cup. But from across the ta
ble, she heard a soft scrape. Heart pounding, she watched three of the cups slide across the table, pushed by the strawberries. Switching positions, the cups moved around in some sort of paranormal shell game. Harmony made a squeak, and both Eudora and Damon squeezed her hands.
“He plays with you because you don’t know how to fight him,” the old woman whispered. Instinctively, Harmony knew her great-grandmother meant the Devil himself. “If you fight his evil with goodness, he’ll lose interest and cease his games. Not forever, mind you, but for now.”
Damon murmured back, “My powers, they are gone.”
Eudora clucked in disapproval. “They’re different now, your powers, not gone, and stronger than ever for the enemy you will face for a lifetime.”
Mama opened an eye. “We will discuss the flies once your father is done speaking.”
They were silent for a moment, then their furtive whispering continued.
“Harmony has never accepted she has powers,” Eudora continued, “but she’s come into them now. It’s what drew you to her, Damon, and her to you. And what still attracts Satan to you both. He feels the power, the power of good, and it threatens him.”
With that scary thought lingering in the air, Harmony’s father finished grace. “Amen,” they all said, and with a clattering of plates, silverware, and voices, the brunch began.
Harmony’s appetite had vanished. Damon sat tense and ready for battle.
“Who moved the strawberries and mugs during grace?” Jake Jr. asked, laughing. “You, Robbie?”
His little brother looked indignant. “It wasn’t me.”
“When we were kids, we used to play pranks when everyone’s eyes were closed during grace,” Harmony explained to Damon. To the others, she said, “I . . . um, thought it’d be fun to take a trip down memory lane.”
Everyone moaned at her. “Harmony . . .”
Her laugh was brittle. “Sorry, it was too much fun to resist,” she said, thankful for the chance at an excuse for the displaced cups.