Sweet Temptation

“Raise the gun,” Rahab tells her.

I know with sudden clarity—this is the moment we’ll both die. Only a miracle can save A

Only a miracle . . .

My vision blurs for a split second, and a foreign urge stirs deep within me. I have never spoken to God. Never asked Him for anything. But for the first time ever . . . I want to pray.

As A

Save her. Please. I’m begging You. You’re the only one powerful enough. I will do anything. If I live, I will stay far away from her. Please, just don’t let them kill her. Take me instead. Don’t let her suffer. . . .

“Last chance,” Rahab says. He raises the gun to A

What the bloody hell is that? A gigantic light splits the back of the room and sends out a glow. Did someone open a door or turn on a spotlight? I look at A

She’s looking at me. And then Kopano, who’s standing two seats down. She gives her head an almost indecipherable shake, and I feel an overwhelming urge to sit. It takes me a moment to realize she is using her silent compulsion, and I want to scream.

The room brightens further and Rahab lowers his arms. All of the attention has turned away from A

Angels. The Maker sent angels. Is this . . . did He answer my prayer? Or is this coincidence? I begin to shake, overcome by the beings pushing into the room. The Dukes are falling back and scrambling to move away. Neph jump up and run, huddling against the walls in fear. The angels eye the room sternly and I have no doubt they would gladly take out every one of our stained souls if the Maker gave the order. I want to run onstage and snag A

“It is not her time,” says the angel in front, nodding to A

Not her time . . . I exhale in a rush. They really are here to save her.

Oho, Rahab is livid. A purple vein has taken prominence in his forehead. To see the Dukes crapping themselves might be the highlight of my life.

“Fine,” Rahab says with a deadly smile. “It is not her time now. But it is hers.”

The bastard raises his gun and shoots Gerlinda in the face. A

Chaos breaks loose as Rahab orders everyone out of the room. Neph push and shove to get to the exit. Where is A

I search for A

After an hour of wandering, I sit on a park bench in Manhattan and stare down at my shaking hands in the glow of a streetlight. I don’t know where the others have gone. I simply stare at my hands, in shock that there’s still blood of life pumping through them. My breaths are still hot against the cold air. My boots are still solid on the ground.

When you’re certain you’re going to die and then you live, it’s a strange sensation. But I don’t dare feel relief. I don’t dare feel anything. I don’t even startle when a hand comes down hard on my shoulder and I look up into the face of Belial. He jerks his head for me to follow him, and turns to leave without waiting. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow a few feet behind him.

I follow him into the underground, where we take the train to the end of the line in New Jersey. I follow him until we’re at a packed bar in Hoboken, clear of the Dukes in New York City. And then I sit in silence at the end of the bar as Belial orders five shots of Wild Turkey and throws them back one after the other, before sitting on the edge of the stool beside me.

He puts one giant hand on his thigh, and the other arm drapes along the bar beside me. He leans forward, boxing me in, and talks under his breath in a low, lethal tone.

“I saw you tonight. If any of the others had seen your little show, you’d be dead.”

My jaw is clenched. He must not appreciate my I-don’t-give-a-shit expression, because he points a hefty finger at my face.

“You listen to me right now, kid, and you listen good.” His eyes. He is beyond furious about what happened tonight. “You stay the hell away from my daughter. You understand me?”

I swallow hard, but my throat is still dry. “I was pla

“You’re no good for her.”

Stab.

“I agree, sir.”

He narrows his beady brown eyes as if searching for sarcasm. I am too numb to manage any sort of sarcasm or wit.

“You think you’re in love with her?”

I don’t answer this, and he plows forward.

“You think she loves you? That she’s meant for you? Wrong, lover boy. My girl’s meant for bigger things. She loves everybody and everything. You’re just a stray she’ll eventually forget about. Understand?”

Everything he’s said is true, but that doesn’t mean my insides aren’t ripped out. It doesn’t mean there’s not a part of me that somehow hoped I was wrong and that Belial might see whatever good thing A

My lips move, “Yes, sir,” but only dry sound comes out.

“You are not a safe option, not as a friend, and not as anything else. If A

I grit my teeth. It feels as if a boa constrictor has encircled my chest. I give a tight nod.

“I know you thought you were cute tonight, playing Romeo like a God-damned fool, but the bullshit ends right now. If you ever endanger her again—if you dare to contact her or so much as look at her, I have friends who will make your death look like an accident. Am I clear?”

To see myself through his eyes—to be reminded so sharply and clearly of all the reasons I’m unworthy of A

Belial leaves me there in Hoboken, where I sit until they kick me out. I walk the streets in darkness, hoping to be finished off by drug dealers or gangs, but it turns out the bad guys are never around when you need them.

Perhaps I should pray for an angel of mercy to put me out of my misery. No, I will not pray again. I’m thankful A

I walk.

At six in the morning I ring our lead singer, Michael, from a street in Jersey City.

“What the fuck, Rowe?” he grumbles.

“I’m in.”

It takes him a moment to catch my meaning, and then he chuckles. I’ve been the only Lascivious member who hasn’t yet agreed to make the suggested move to L.A. We can focus on our music full time. I’ve been holding out, wanting to remain close to A