Pathscrossing A Harem Romance 1 02

He couldn't move an inch, his body betraying him. It was as if he were trapped in stasis, but with full awareness of his surroundings. "I'm going to let you go, and for your own sake, keep your mouth shut," the woman said. He blinked. The woman was putting off a serious aura of power, like a pressure was coming off her and squeezing the air from his lungs. Antagonizing such a woman seemed like a bad idea.

She let go of his mouth and he rubbed his jaw, turning in place to face the intruder. The woman was small, no taller than five-and-a-half feet, with tan skin, and dark hair pulled up in a bun. She dusted off her hands, then looked around the room. There was a pause before she spoke.

"You live like this?"

"Hey! Explain! You can't break into my house then insult me!"

She grinned at him. "Sure I can!"

She walked around his living room, caressing the potted plants along the way.

"Your plants are well cared for," she noted.

"I know," he said, as he made himself comfortable on his own couch. If this woman were going to do something to hurt him, she would have already. His cat, who'd been hiding up to this point, darted out from the kitchen and jumped into his lap. He rubbed her behind the ears. "Don't worry, Cat. The mean lady won't hurt you." She turned to scowl at him, her fancy robe swooshing around her.

"Of course I won't! And I'm not mean! I'm mysterious and aloof."

"So, who are you? Why are you in my home?"

She ignored him, bending further to look at his plants. "Seriously, Jackson, how do you get them so healthy? Not a speck of brown on these leaves..."

He shrugged. "Love. TLC. Whatever you want to call it."

She turned and gave him a smile that told him he'd missed an inside joke. Clearing her throat, she gave him her full attention.

"My name is Astarte," she paused, as if giving him time to gasp. When no such gasp came forth she faltered a little, but continued. "The angel Eldarion is dead."

"That's...very sad? What does that have to do with me?"

[Don't be a dick.]

He jumped, and the movement did not go unnoticed by the woman in the room.

"Give me a minute! Kids today, no sense for the dramatic..." she grumbled, then approached and sat next to him. She scooted closer til their shoulders were touching, then patted her leg. Cat, traitorous as she was, claimed the woman's lap. Astarte leaned her head against Jack's shoulder as she pet the animal, without the slightest indication that she knew she was making him uncomfortable.

"So, the angel of love is dead, felled in battle with a demon. What do you suppose happens now?"

"Uh, well I'd guess there will be a funeral, we will all be sad for a little while, then we will move on?"

[Move on?]

"Yeah, like normal," he said aloud.

"There is a balance to all things, Jackson. There are ten demons walking this world, but now only nine angels. There is a gap to be filled."

"And you think...you think I'm going to fill that gap?"

This time, she shrugged. "I dunno."

"Alright, cool talk."

"Relax. It could well be you. There are candidates! People that the Fates themselves have deemed worthy to hold the mantle next. This time, there are nine candidates; nine people who could potentially take up the title of Eldarion, Angel of Love."

"Hold on," Jack said, confused. "I thought Eldarion was her name? It's a title?"

"It's both, I guess. Her name was Eldarion, and she was the original angel of love, so..."

Jack faltered. "Like, biblically?"

Astarte waved her hand. "No, no, nothing like that. The angels were just another Sovereign race that came over during the Pathscrossing. Like me!" she said with a shit-eating grin. "Are you going to ask me what I am, yet?"

"You already told me who you are."

"Nuh uh, I want you to guess."

He sighed. This woman was going to be trouble, he could feel it.

"Well, if you're a Sovereign species you're either an angel, a demon, a primordial, or an old god...hold on, Astarte? You're one of the thirteen! An old god!"

Astarte rose from his shoulder and threw him a dirty look. "I am not old. I am wise. Do I look old?" Her eyes burned with the question. In truth, she was beautiful in a much more realistic way than he figured a god would be.

"Not at all! Younger than me, for sure." Couldn't hurt to suck up to an old god a little.

She preened a bit, tucking a flyaway behind her ear, then continued. "But yes that is me. Astarte, the young, hot goddess, fresh on the scene. I used to be human, you know. Just. Like. You." She punctuated her words by tapping him on the nose, her eyes daring him to say something about it. "Perhaps you, too, are destined to rise above mortality and lead mankind towards a new era." She crawled onto him and sat sideways on his lap with her arms looped around his neck. "So...nine candidates, and one super-influential position to fill. If people knew you were a candidate, what do you think they would do?"

Jack scratched his chin in thought. "I'd like to think they would congratulate me and wish me luck."

Astarte pursed her lips in contemplation. "Okay then. But what if they knew another candidate? One who's loyalties aligned with their own, or could be bought? Or what if another candidate found out who you were?"

Jack blanched. "I suppose they might try to...disqualify me?"

"Mmhmm, and does this seem like the kind of thing you can just...opt out of?"

"It does not."

"Correct. People will come for you. They already have, in fact. Just today at the construction site, I had to intervene when a demon tried to drop some metal on you..."

"That was you? Are you going to keep me safe?"

She shook her head, and her face showed genuine regret. "No, unfortunately. I was able to intervene today because you were unaware of your situation. It's not fair to attack you before you even know you are playing the game." She ran a hand through his hair on the back of his head, scratching his scalp.

"But now that I know..."

She nodded. "Now I can't help you...well, directly?"

"Why? Aren't you a god? Can't you...I don't know, do whatever you want?"

"That question is more...metaphysical than I want to get into today."

"Got it." He peered into her eyes. "Are you coming on to me?"

She laughed; a beautiful ringing sound that lifted his heart. "I'm not being super subtle about it, Jackson. Alas, you should save yourself for dear Sagra." He blinked and she was standing once more, looking over her shoulder at him, Cat once again nestled in his lap.

"But do you really think one lover is realistic for the Angel of Love?" She shot him a sly smile. "I'll be seeing you, Jackson. Don't die on me." She blew him a kiss, then vanished in a puff of air that smelled like flowering orange trees.

The next day, he made record time as he walked to the deli, twitching at every car horn and paranoid of every person. Damn it, why did she have to tell him all that? If she hadn't told him, she could protect him, and he could have stayed blissfully ignorant. As he approached the deli, he had to step into the street to avoid an eccentric-looking couple arguing on the sidewalk. The man was wearing a completely white suit with a white tie, while the woman wore a studded leather jacket and torn, skintight jeans, with black hair and dark makeup. He snuck around them, and the bell jingled as he opened the door.

"You're late," Enzo said, without looking. He was using the industrial slicer to cut up a large ham.

"I'm seven minutes early!" Jack protested. He could never win with this family. His father just grunted, and Jack made his way to the back to put on his best customer-facing apron. It was at this point he realized that Sagra's number was smudged across his forearm. He hastily jotted the number down on a napkin, then washed his arms and hands to be presentable for the deli customers.

He worked alongside his father, taking and fulfilling orders for meat, as well as specific sandwiches. His mother was sitting at one of the tables, rifling through the deli's bills and receipts. This was done quietly; most orders these days came through a receipt printer, an overpriced sandwich or two to be picked up by faceless delivery drivers. After an internal debate, Jack broke the silence; if he couldn't confide in his parents, who could he confide in?

"I had an interesting day yesterday," he began. His mother grunted to show she was listening "I was walking home through the construction site a few blocks down, and there was..." The bell on the door rang as the man from before, decked in all white, entered the deli. The woman in black followed behind him, then stood in the corner with her arms crossed and a pout on her face, glaring at Jack.

"Uh, hello, you two. Can I get you anything," Jack said, being sure to acknowledge the woman's presence.

"Yes," the man in white sneered and stepped forward, showing off perfect teeth. "I'd like a Reuben on white, if you please."

[Tread carefully, Jackson,] the voice whispered. [Also, a Reuben on white bread is sacrilege. A red flag to be sure.]

We are certainly chatty today, he thought to himself, or to whomever the voice belonged. Regardless of the creepy vibes the man was putting off, Jack started crafting the sandwich.

"This is a nice place, very quaint," the man said, making small talk. "Amante's. Is that you?" he asked, the question directed at Jack.

"That would be me," his father interjected. "Would your lovely wife like anything?" He gestured with his chin to the woman in the back, who flushed.

"Oh, no thank you," said the man. "She is simply...babysitting."

Enzo grunted. He was never one to get into other people's business.

"So," the man continued. "That would make you Enzo," he looked towards the older man. "And you...Jackson." His gaze fell on Jack, who froze. His mother stopped counting receipts, listening intently.

"You hear that, dad?" Jack said, a bead of sweat down his back betraying his aloof tone. "We're famous."

Enzo squinted at him. "What's your name, friend?" But the man ignored him, focusing with intensity on Jack, who had just finished wrapping up the abomination of a sandwich order.

"Jackson, if you would, could I have a moment of your time? I have a proposition for you. We could step outside. We wouldn't want anyone in here bothered by our...business." The woman in the back tensed up, but before Jack could respond, the bell on the door jingled once more. A mountain of a woman entered, lowering her head so the top of the doorframe didn't mess up her wavy hair. She froze, taking in the scene before her, her eyes settling on Jack.

"Jack?" Sagra looked like a deer in headlights.

"Sagra? What are...? How are you?"

"I'm...fine..."

The man in the suit spun in place and glared at the newcomer, and the gloomy woman in the corner cracked a smile. Grumbling something about Nephilim, the man in white paid for his sandwich.

"Next time, Jackson. It's important, I assure you."

"Oh...okay. See you next time."

The man stormed from the deli, the goth girl hot on his tail.

Sagra blushed; she seemed to be in a constant state of embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here. With the suit, I figured..."

"This is...uh, this is my parent's place. I help out from time to time."

"Right." There was an awkward silence. Jack's mother Catherine, having been torn from her receipts, was now fully invested in the goings-on of the restaurant.

"Jackson, are you going to introduce us to your friend?" she said. Enzo was staring at the woman, wide-eyed, until Jack elbowed him.

"Mom, dad, this is Sagra. Sagra, my parents, Enzo and Catherine."

Sagra looked mortified, but persevered. "Wonderful to meet you both."

Catherine flashed her a pleasant smile. "Sagra, dear, we've seen you before, haven't we?" she asked, knowing damn well they remembered her.

"Y-yes, I started coming in the other day! A friend from school recommended you to me?"

"Ah, where do you go?"

"The University." She gestured in the school's general direction. "I'm studying to be a curator, but I'm only doing it because I love to paint."

Jack's ears perked up as he added this tidbit to her mental file. Enzo cleared his throat.

"Great to learn your name, Sagra; you are very lovely. Can we get you anything?"

She flushed once more, fumbling over her words, "Oh! Uh, well...no. Yes. Can I get a roast beef on multigrain please?"

Jack's mother shot him a stare that most assuredly meant they would be speaking of this later. "What are your plans today, Sagra?" she said.

"I just ran some errands, and I was about to have lunch in the park, actually."

"What a coincidence! We were just telling Jackson here to go outside and get some fresh air, weren't we, Enzo dear?"

Enzo coughed. "Of course, son. You work so hard, always hauling all of the heavy meats around, but you never take a break. Strong boy, good work ethic. Go...go get some sun."

Jack sighed. His parents were terrible. "Sagra, could you use some company?"

She smiled at him, holding back a small laugh, "I'd love some."

Jack turned to his mother. "Ma, what about your hair appoint..." She cut him off with a wave. "My hairdresser is very sick today, no appointments. Go, get out of here." Sagra got her sandwich, and Enzo insisted that this one was on the house. She argued little as they were ushered out of the deli and onto the street.

"I imagine you get pretty sick of sandwiches, then?" Sagra asked as they made their way through the weekend crowds. She threw him a sly smile.

"Sandwiches are still cool. Lots of different ways they can go together" He paid a street vendor for a hot dog, made Chicago style. She stuck her tongue out in a cute, exaggerated face of disgust.

"How can you eat those little peppers? So spicy and sour!"

Jack gasped in mock indignation. "The peppers are the best part! And they're barely spicy! You must just be a wimp."

"Hey!" she said before taking a bite of her sandwich. "You better watch it, Jack; I can curl you!" It was obvious to Jack that she immediately regretted saying it, as she flushed deeply and took another large bite of her sandwich.

"I might take you up on that one of those days."

She ignored him, but turned an even deeper shade of crimson.

"You're too easy to mess with," he teased her. She smiled at him.

"I know. I just...I haven't really...met anyone. In a while. No one really teases me, either. I think...I mean, I scare people." People moved out of their way as they walked and talked. He'd spent most of his life in the city, and there had always been one rule: people do not move over for you on the sidewalk. It seems that the rule can be bent for certain people. Jack hesitated before his instincts came for him.

"You don't scare me, Sagra," he said, grabbing her wrist. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to look at him, and the people in the streets split around them like a rock in a stream.

"Jack, stop," she flushed again. "People are staring!"

"Let them. I need to say this." She looked around, embarrassed, but nodded.

"Sagra, you are truly a wonderful person. Not only that, but you are fortunate. You are strong, tall, and beautiful. Anyone would be better off knowing you. I know I am." He ran his hand down her forearm until he interlaced his fingers with hers. "Come on. Let's go to the park." She was silent the rest of the way, blushing furiously, but she never let go of his hand.

"So, Ms. Curator. You like to paint?" asked Jack. They sat on a bench after a few laps around the trails in the park. They had lost track of time, chatting hand-in-hand, and it was now close to sunset.

"I love it," she brightened up. "But I'm not very good just yet!"

Jack waved a hand in dismissal. "That's just what really good painters have to say...I can't wait to see them." He phrased the statement in such a way that she couldn't refuse. He wanted to get to know this woman, and he was sure she was a lovely painter.

"You are very kind." She tucked the stubborn flyaway behind her ear. "I would love to show you sometime." They sat in silence for some time, watching people mill about, their fingers intertwined.

"Sagra, I...would you let me cook you dinner? Tonight?" He squeezed her hand, his own feeling small in comparison. She ran a thumb over his.

"I would love that, Jack."

"I make a really good pork stew. My dad's recipe!" He flashed her a toothy smile, "I actually don't live too far! Are you allergic to cats?"