Bite Me 2: All Angels go to Heaven

Chapter 2

She took him up to her flat and sat him at the kitchen table. She poured a glass of brandy for them both it was the bottle she kept for her dad when he visited, but she guessed he wouldn't be needing it anymore.

"I like my women both alive and willing thanks," he said, and took the glass she offered. He sighed with relief as the liquid filled one of the many needs he had.

"While I cook, you talk," she said, and she began to prepare food.

"I'm your guardian angel. You're in trouble," he said, watching for her reaction.

"Do angels usually have black wings?" She asked, without missing a beat.

"Erm, only when they are fallen," he replied. How had she seen his wings? He didn't show them to her, and they should have been very well hidden.

"Great, Mary gets a real angel, and I get a fallen one," she muttered, and put the chopped goods in the hot pan creating a sizzling steam of delicious smells.

"I'm sorry?" He asked.

"Never mind," she said, putting a couple of pitta's in the toaster.

"What are you?" He asked.

"I'm confused," she replied.

She dished the food onto plates and sat opposite him, watching him devour his food quickly; he really was hungry. She didn't know if she could trust him, but every cell in her body screamed yes. She didn't know if that was because he was so incredibly attractive or because she didn't have anyone else to turn to. She'd left her friends in Hertfordshire to lease the shop and flat after university, but it had taken a few years to get off the ground and she had neglected every area of her life. That was probably why her ex had left; she never had the time or energy for him. Now the business was doing well, but everything else had begun to fall apart.

"Melissa," he began, but stopped short when he heard a crash from the floor below them.

"My shop," she sprinted toward the door. He caught up with her and held her still on the stairs, putting a finger to his lips.

"Do you have any weapons?" He whispered.

"Up there," she pointed at the space above the doorframe of the shop. Mounted for easy access was a baseball bat. "My dad insisted on it."

He lifted the bat from the hook and pushed the door slowly raising the bat as it opened. Nothing happened, so Melissa put her hand around the frame and found the light switch. There was glass on the floor and a brick, but no one had broken in.

"Vandals?" Melissa asked, picking up the brick.

"Hold on," he said, taking the brick from her. He sniffed it; it smelled like a wet brick should smell. "What's this?" He pulled a folded piece of paper from a cavity in the brick and unfolded it.

"Not on my territory!" She read "What does that mean?" He took the paper and sniffed it. "Why do you keep sniffing it?"

"I'm trying to ascertain who sent the message," he said, running his fingertips over the print. He couldn't get any trace of a smell from the note or the brick, whoever had planned it had not left a trace of themselves on the thing.

Melissa peered through the glass into the darkness, but couldn't see anyone or anything out of place beside her own shop window. She grabbed the dustpan and brush from the cupboard and cleaned the mess up while Mark stood and stared into space, deep in thought, or so it looked.

"Okay, you can rent my spare room, but it's not the nicest space; the roof caved in and poured water over the bedrooms. They're drying out, slowly," she said, hoping she was doing the right thing. It was difficult to know, but she did feel safer with him there; he was so big, muscled, and gorgeous. No, it probably wasn't the right thing to do.