Falling Hard Ch. 13

"You don't look like you're in any shape to mess with him," she said softly. Mandi felt Heath's breath on her cheek. She put a hand on his steely arm to push against him, but it only resulted in his hot blood running down her arm, dampening her skin and clothing.

"Yeah, I need some time to recover and heal. Healing balm, all that. But killing YOU doesn't take any strength."

Her eyes went back to the two men lying dead, their skulls crushed instantly.

"Then just kill me now and get it over with."

Please, I can't take whatever you have in mind, she wanted to say.

She ducked under his arm and he let her go, turning to watch as she stepped over the body of one of the men. It was the one in red with his pants unzipped, Rick. She saw the knife by Phil's hand.

"Don't waste your time," Heath said. "It won't hurt me. But I could turn it on you. It would do lots and lots of damage."

She turned and looked back up at him. The hopelessness of her situation was sinking in further.

Heath just leaned against the wall and watched her.

"It was better when I was fucking with your memory, wasn't it?" he said. "When you could go on thinking I loved you and that you meant something to me? A part of you would go back to that in a heartbeat right now, wouldn't you? It was a bittersweet fantasy."

Was he going to do something to her mind now? She held her arms around herself protectively and looked up at him. "But that's all it was... fantasy. And in the end, you were going to kill me anyway. So I guess you win after all."

Mandi turned toward the entrance to the alley. She took a few steps toward it. He still hadn't moved. How weakened was he? He seemed slow. Maybe she could escape after all.

"I'd love to see you try," he hissed. She turned and saw the look in his eyes - he was daring her to run.

"Please," she said. "Don't hurt me anymore. Be merciful, just this once."

He laughed, and it came out throaty and dry. "Please," he said, mocking. "I've heard the same thing for thousands of years... begging, pleading. What makes you think I'd have pity on you? What makes you any more special than all the other weak, pathetic humans I've slaughtered?"

Nothing, she realized. Nothing at all. Still, she couldn't just give up. Could she?

"You don't have to do this. You were a good angel in Heaven once, right? In the beginning? It's not too late. You can be good again."

Heath chuckled. "Nice try."

"But why me? What are you getting out of this?"

"A lot of money."

"That's all this is about?"

"Hey, it was always just a job. After you're dead, I'll have another job, and another. And I'll do them the same way I did you. I'll get paid, and I'll enjoy my work."

"Who are you working for?"

"I'm an independent contractor. A lot of people want my skills and expertise. But this job? Heaven."

"What do you mean, Heaven?"

"Heaven... you know, 'up there', angels, singing, fluffy white clouds? Should I go on?"

She couldn't digest what he was saying. No, Heaven was paying some thug to terrorize her?

Why was she even born? Why didn't God just strike her dead with a bolt of lightning or something? She began to cry.

Mandi was at the entrance to the alley now. Another step and she'd be out the door. But she knew he would catch her. She could scream, but he would shut her up. Nothing was going to change.

She leaned against the wall of the building, her forehead propped against it as though the wall could provide comfort and support from her unspeakable situation. She never thought she'd have to see Heath again. Never thought she 'd have to be this afraid again.

But now she was beyond afraid... she was just numb. Just waiting for it to be done and over with. Yes, she thought. This is good, this is good. Not many people get to know exactly when they will die. It will all be over, and then I won't have to feel the pain, the fear.

She heard him shuffling over to her and braced herself for impact. She felt his large hand clamp down on her shoulder, just resting there. She looked down at his hand... his hand could deal her death in a second. Or, it could prolong her misery for as long as he saw fit. She suddenly felt appreciation for his hands. They would be her salvation. Her way out of the fear, the pain, the horror that was her life.

Her brown eyes lifted to look into his. In the dim light, she couldn't read what was in them. But she already knew what was there.

Fear came bubbling up inside her yet again. She much preferred the numbness, the apathy.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising panic. "What are you waiting for?"

He seemed unsure of himself. It surprised her. Maybe he was hurt much worse than she thought. What could he be planning? She looked down to see blood dripping onto the concrete from his arms and hands.

He cleared his throat.

She knew what he would say next. Something to the effect of: he was going to finish what he started in the alley last night.... and it was just too bad that Virta couldn't join them, but her guardian angel was too busy fucking a demon to look after her... and when he was done fucking Mandi, he was going to kill her. Yeah, that's what he was going to say. It was so like him.

"Just get the fuck on with it," she said through gritted teeth.

He didn't move or speak, and she looked up angrily. Mandi gave him a push. Pushing against him was like pushing a brick wall, and she was the one who was moved backwards with her effort.

A glimmer of amusement passed through his eyes in the streetlight, then faded.

"So what are you waiting for, tough guy? Do what you've gotta do. You've got a job to finish. Money and your reputation are on the line, here." In her state of terror, goading him on became natural, a means to propel him to finish her, hopefully quickly.

He still didn't speak for a moment. He actually sighed wearily, as if all this was a chore to him now. Taking her hands in his, he backed up while pulling her forward, further into the alley.

"Alright," he said, releasing her hands. "Strip."

"Fuck you, Heath," she said, even as her fingers moved against her will, to undo the buttons on her blouse.

So he was going to make her suffer first. Well, that WAS his style. Her eyes flickered to the two dead men on the ground. How had they been so lucky to go so quickly? She glared up at the demon.

"I hate you," she said.

Again, no comeback. No threat to shut her up.

Heath turned and limped back into the alley a short distance. Why did he seem so distracted? She removed her blouse, letting it fall to the ground.

Heath turned around then, silently watching her. She was unbuttoning her skirt and it fell around her ankles.

He still seemed unsure of himself and it annoyed her. Whatever he was playing at, it just didn't work for her. He was too quiet, too slow. She was surprised to realize that she much preferred the taunting, mocking, mouthy Heath. At least then, she knew what to expect.

He took a slow step toward her. Then he stopped. She reached back to unhook her bra while she glared at him defiantly, angrily.

"Stop," Heath growled.

Mandi obeyed immediately, hands dropping back to her sides. She watched and waited for what he would do next. And still, he just remained there, silhouetted in the dark alley. He took a deep breath, as if he were going to say something.

But a large object dropped into the alley right behind him. At the same time, Heath jerked; spasmed. She heard his breath catch and then a grunt, a groan. There was the sound of wet ripping, crunching, sloshing.

Heath fell forward, and she had no time to react. His hands landed on her shoulders, but she couldn't hold him up. His weight and momentum caused her to collapse to the ground, and he was going down on top of her. She knew she'd be crushed, but he somehow caught himself before he landed on her body. She was on her back between his legs, looking up into his eyes, which now seemed colorless but filled with bewilderment, anger, and fear. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then he was suddenly back on his feet, turning to face whoever, whatever had attacked him.

That's when she saw the huge knife wound in his back. It had initially plunged into his upper back, but had been pulled all the way down to his lower back in a nasty, open gash that laid bare muscle and internal organs.

The attacker moved and Mandi's horrified gaze went to him. He was dressed all in black and wearing a ski mask. The man plunged the knife into Heath's chest. Heath cried out, and again, the man ripped the blade out, twisting as he removed it.

Even in the low light, she could tell this was not an ordinary knife. It seemed to glow from within, even though it was covered in Heath's blood.

Heath sank to the ground, then he fell onto his side, his head at Mandi's feet.

The man with the knife started to walk past Heath, toward Mandi. He was wielding the knife, and he was coming straight for her.

Heath's arm shot out as quick as a cat and grabbed the attacker around the ankle, jerking him off his feet. There was a struggle on the ground and more sounds of wet stabbing. Mandi scooted further back from the chaos going on next to her.

The man with the knife pulled himself into a sitting position with his back to the wall, and he was panting, staring down at Heath.

"It's over. You're not going to hurt her," the man said.

Mandi watched Heath's body shaking in a pool of his own blood. His face was pulled into a tight grimace.

"What the fuck," he muttered, one hand held over the gaping wounds in his chest. Blood was pouring out. Mandi saw the pool of blood enlarging around him, and flowing around the two men he'd killed. It was running toward her feet, and she moved back even more.

Heath tried to get back to his feet. He slid in his blood, and went back to the ground with a grunt.

"Nice... bad-ass knife... you... got there..."

Mandi heard a unique calm in Heath's voice. His breath was loud and gasping as he shook with effort to get air in and out, and to speak.

"Good choice... Joab Combat ASH-1. .. I can ... appreciate... death by th-that blade."

The stranger gripping the knife said nothing. He just leaned against the wall, breathing heavy and shaking.

"But I sh-should at least know... who the coward is who... stabbed me in the back...."

The man grabbed his mask and tore it off. "The name's Mick," he said.

Heath coughed hard for a moment. "What, the desk jocky for U-Sec, internal affairs? No... No.... I can't be k-killed by you, god...dammit." He coughed some more and spit up blood, choking on it.

His blood seemed to be everywhere, Mandi realized with growing horror. Its slick blackness was shining on the ground, on the men, on the alley walls, and she could feel it all over her. Spatters of it.

Mandi tried to get to her feet. Heath's eyes were only on her now, and he was still trying to get up.

Heath held out one large hand toward her. They locked eyes for an excruciatingly long moment. Mandi felt something stirring in her mind... was he trying to will her to fall down dead with him? Killing her with his last conscious thought?

"M-Mandi," he said. He made it to his knees, reaching out for her. "Mandi...."

The man plunged the knife into the side of Heath's neck. Heath fell forward, dead.

Mandi looked up at the man who'd killed Heath. She could see no features, but he was getting to his feet.

She shrank back.

"It's OK," he said, slowly approaching her, still holding the bloody knife. "I'm not going to hurt you." He extended a hand to her. She ignored it, and scooted back further.

"I've heard that before," she said, eying the wicked-looking blade that had just killed a demon. Why wasn't he sheathing the weapon?

She caught a glimpse of his eyes in the light, they looked silvery blue, and wild. He was trembling and his face was a mask of emotions. He looked out of control. And maybe as scared as she was.

She was terrified. Heath, he was the devil she knew. This man, she didn't know. Was he her savior? Or had he killed Heath to get to her? Events were changing too fast for her shocked mind to process.

Mandi got to her feet and ran from the alley. Her will to live was back and strong. She ran and ran.

She saw a cab coming down the street and nearly threw herself out in front of it. It stopped for the hysterical woman in her bra and panties. She opened the door and got in.

The cab driver turned around. He looked about sixty, and had short, salt and pepper hair, dark mahogany skin and shining dark eyes. The eyes. She couldn't look away.

He broke eye contact by turning around, facing forward.

"Do you want to go to the police?" he asked. "A hospital?"

"No. I'm going home. Just drive, please. Drive!"

John gripped the steering wheel and took off. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Jesus, the woman had appeared out of the darkness in front of his car, scaring him half to death. She was soaked in blood, just wearing her womanly under-things, crying, screaming. It was enough to give an angel a heart attack.

He glanced at her in the rear view mirror. She was looking frantically out the windows, as if the devil himself was after her. Well, from the looks of things, maybe he was.

"You're safe now, honey," he said in his most soothing, comforting voice.

She didn't answer. He saw now that she was leaning her head back against the seat. Her lips were moving though no sound came out, and she was rocking back and forth with her arms crossed over her body.

They came to a stop light. He pulled his light jacket off the seat beside him and pushed it back to her, avoiding looking at her.

"Here, put that on. You can keep it."

He heard her put on the jacket. She was still quiet. Another glance in the mirror showed she was looking down at the floor, her long dark hair hanging in her face. She was trembling.

Not long after, they pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"You want me to call anyone for you?"

Her eyes shot open. "No!" She looked around, saw her building, and opened the door. "I mean, thank you, but no." Her voice was quiet, and she didn't make eye contact.

He smiled gently. "Things will be fine, miss. You wait and see."

She got out and stood by his side of the car, looking unsure of herself. "I, uh, don't have any money to pay you. It was in my, uh pocket of my...."

"Don't worry about it."

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. But their eyes locked again accidently. He saw her flinch and he quickly looked away.

Mandi walked to her front door and turned to watch the cab pull away. When it was out of sight, she reached down and pulled an extra key from under her door mat.

It hit her then, as she stood at the door with key in hand. That's when she realized, she'd never told the cab driver her address. Or, maybe she had and just didn't remember. What did it matter? She was alive and in one piece. She needed a shower and a drink.

Mandi went inside and locked the door.