Fallen Angel by Margaret Weis;Lizz Weis

Author:Margaret Weis;Lizz Weis [Weis, Margaret Weis;Lizz]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780060833336
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2008-10-28T10:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

A limousine brought Cain back to the bus. He was whisked past the crowd of reporters and photographers and hustled into the bus by Natalia. Once there, he avoided meeting anyone’s eye. He walked past them without saying a word, went to his room. Natalia followed him and gently shut the door after.

Natalia talked in low tones. Matthew couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she sounded soothing, comforting. He heard Cain mumbling, then what sounded like him breaking down and sobbing. Then the sound of the shower running. Natalia came out of the bedroom.

“I think he’s feeling better now,” she said.

“Like anyone gives a damn,” Woof muttered.

Matthew poured himself a bourbon and went to his bunk.

The bunks were similar to what they used to call sleeping compartments on railroad cars, only these were nicer. Each bunk was curtained off from the others. Each had a reading light and an electric outlet and was roomy enough that its occupant could sit up comfortably. Matthew propped himself against the pillows, drank bourbon, and looked over his notes for the act. An hour or so passed. Natalia was on the phone for most of it. Then there came the sound of chains jingling and heavy boots thumping on the floor.

“Excuse me. I’ll call you back. I thought we agreed you were staying in tonight, Cain,” Natalia said. “We’re playing poker with the band.”

Matthew cautiously parted the curtains of his bunk and peered out. Cain was standing nearby, dressed in a black tank top and black jeans, with a spike-studded leather belt and boots.

“Rick Rubin, the producer is in town,” Cain told her. “He called me this afternoon. He’s having a party. Penthouse suite. Everyone from the industry will be there.”

“I don’t like it.” Natalia frowned. “The last thing we need is a shot of you whooping it up after the tragedy—”

“Like you said, it wasn’t my fuckin’ fault!” Cain yelled. He was so worked up, he was shaking.

Natalia stared at him, startled. “Don’t shout at me. It wasn’t your fault. Still, it doesn’t hurt to keep a low profile.”

Cain crossed his arms over his chest and stood glaring at her, a sullen expression on his face.

“Well, mother, can I go?” he asked, sneering.

Natalia sighed. “I’ll talk to Rick.” She made a phone call, spoke for a few moments, then hung up. “All right. Rick’s sworn on a stack of Peter Frampton Live albums that there will not be any press. You go straight to the hotel, come straight back. No detours. And no tossing sofas out the window. I’m sending Kimo with you.”

“Fine. Right. Whatever,” Cain muttered as he stalked out of Matthew’s line of sight. “Don’t need a goddamned hulking babysitter.”

“Don’t get drunk or strung out. We still need to go over the exorcism performance sometime!” Natalia called after him. “Preferably before you perform it!”

Cain said something in response that made Matthew grit his teeth to avoid saying something that would have caused trouble. He crawled out of his bunk.

“Would you mind if I broke his jaw?” Matthew asked.

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