The Black Parade Page 2

Night had folded in around the edges of the city by the time I trudged back to my crappy apartment after solving Ming-Na and Ron’s cases. The rent was cheap because it was in a lousy neighborhood, wedged between a liquor store and a barbershop. Lucky for me, it was on the bus line so I didn’t need a car. Work was only a fifteen-minute ride so it all balanced out pretty well. It would probably be more depressing if I weren’t so used to it.

  I opened the door to the apartment to find an obscenely tall blond man standing in front of my kitchen counter, stooped over the red leather book that had been on top of the fridge. A year ago, this would have been a strange sight. I didn’t even bat an eyelash—just tossed my keys next to the book and shrugged out of my duster.

  “Evening, Gabriel.”

  The archangel Gabriel smiled down at me with sky blue eyes. “Good evening, Jordan.”

  “Busy day?” I asked, opening the fridge to pull out ingredients to make dinner. Spaghetti tonight, and every day until payday. What a glamorous life I led.

  He shrugged. “The usual. I see you have logged two more souls today.”

  “Yep. That puts me at ninety-eight. You wouldn’t mind rounding it up to an even hundred, right?” I asked with a voice as sweet as honey. He laughed—a gentle, slightly echoing sound. That creeping sensation of joy rose inside my body and I did my best to ignore it. Gabriel had that effect on human beings. Even though I had known him for two years, it was still really unnerving.

  “If only the Good Lord would allow me to. You have done remarkably well this year. You are nearly past the mark to your salvation,” he replied.

  I didn’t even bother to shrug. “Ring-a-ding ding.”

  He watched me with a considerate look as I went about filling a deep pot with water to cook the noodles. “Something troubling you, my dear?”

  “Not at all.” He closed the book and placed it back on the fridge, which was no feat for him since he was close to seven feet tall. Gabriel appeared in his human form because his angel form would have blinded me. He wore a navy Armani tux that easily cost more than my rent. An archangel with impeccable taste, oh my.

  “Shouldn’t you be happier about your progress?”

  I sat the pot on the stove and turned the dial, watching the coils for the red glow. “It’s hard to get worked up about the fact that even when my debt is paid, I still have to do this for the rest of my life because I’m the only one who can. I don’t like having that decision made for me already, Gabe.”

  When I turned to face him, he had a curious expression on his delicate features. I shook my head.

  “You don’t get it. It’s fine. You’re a seven-foot angel in charge of delivering God’s will. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the mind of a twenty-one year old American girl.”

  I moved to take the spaghetti sauce out of the cupboard when I felt his large, warm hands resting on my shoulders. His face brushed my cheek, voice low and soft with kindness.

  “Have faith, Jordan. That is all I ask of you and all you should ask of yourself.”

  He kissed my forehead, in the same spot as always—above my right eyebrow. Over the years, it had become a familiar gesture between the two of us. I felt the gentle brush of air as he walked past me and out the door. A lone golden feather drifted to the floor in his wake. I stooped and picked it up, twirling the holy object between my fingers. His pep talk hadn’t worked, but I did love it when he left souvenirs. I tucked the feather in the top of my ponytail and went to gather the seasonings for the spaghetti. All three of them—seasoning salt, garlic powder, and onion powder—were sitting in a row on my counter. Had Gabriel done that while I wasn’t looking?

  Once again, I raked my gaze through the apartment for any sort of presence before reminding myself to calm down. Gabriel must have done it, because ghosts can’t touch anything. Relax.

  Still, maybe I should sleep with two guns underneath my pillow. A girl can never be too cautious.