Free Balance (The Divine, Book One) by M.R. Forbes Page A

running the front desk at the Belmont Hotel didn't even give
me a second look when I lumbered in holding two large duffels. I was getting
more accomplished with altering my outward appearance, and had dressed down for
the occasion. My hair was long and greased, I had three days growth on my chin,
and my clothes were worn and dirty. On the walk over, I had also discovered how
to repair my inward appearance, fixing the rips and tears in my clothing so I
could see and sense myself with some semblance of physical dignity.
    "How
much for your best room?" I asked, approaching the desk.
    Punkmo
shrugged. "It's twenty-five per night, all the rooms are priced the
same." He reached under the desk and produced a padlock with a key.
"Just find an empty room and lock the inside. When you leave, lock the
outside."
    The
modern world sure made being limited to cash a frustrating proposition,
especially when trying to find a place to hunker down for a while. Most upscale
hotels required holding a credit card on file, which meant bypassing anything a
person might want to spend any amount of time in, and instead making do with
something that someone could spend time in if they had to. I had to. I turned
my back on him so I could count through my stash without him being able to see
how much I was carrying. I handed him three hundreds.
    "Good
for twelve days, right?" I asked.
    He
furrowed his brow and looked at me. The math was a little too much for him.
"Sure man."
    He
snatched the cash a little too eagerly and pushed the lock forward. I put down
the sword to pick up the lock and stuck it into my jacket pocket.
    The
Belmont. The name made me laugh out loud. The place was about half of a step
above the condemned projects where I had watched Rebecca drain a good guy. I
was sure it had been a fine place a hundred years ago or so, but it seemed like
it hadn’t been renovated since, well, ever. The interior was old, drab, and
dirty, with peeling faded wallpaper and either missing or busted furniture. The
rooms weren't much better, decorated with ripped sofas, old mattresses stained
yellow from all kinds of bodily fluids, ancient fridges of which maybe fifty
percent were functional, and a varying but always present amount of mold. Every
room had roaches. Only two of the rooms I passed had people. The place was more
for quickies with hookers and drug exchanges than living in, but I didn’t have
too many housing options.
    I
settled into 7G, a room on the top floor in the southeast corner. It gave me a
decent view of the streets below through small grimy windows that would hide my
own visage from anyone looking in, and a mattress that had a better than fifty
percent chance of not housing an STD.
    I
gently slid Josette off of my shoulder, placing her on top of the bed. She was
still unconscious, but her breathing was steady. Her wounds continued to ooze
blood, refusing to close over, and the gash on her cheek had some nasty black
spider veins reaching out across her face. I had no way to judge the effect of
a demonic wound on an angel, but going by what had happened to the Were when I stabbed him, she was suffering from damage that
wouldn’t heal on its own. When I put my hand to her forehead, I could feel that
she was burning up, maybe literally.
    "Josette,"
I whispered.
    She
didn't respond. That raised the question - how do you heal an angel who was
wounded in a fight against a demon? Answer - holy water. Maybe it wouldn't
work, but it seemed like the best option and I didn't have much to lose. I
wasn't going to let her die, not like this. She had spared my life, and I was
going to return the favor. Maybe she’d even be grateful. If she wouldn't let me
out of our deal, the act of kindness might be enough to convince her to at
least offer some measure of help in completing the task without having my soul
destroyed. Not an alliance, but maybe information.
    "I'll
be back," I said to her prone form as I ducked out of the room, put the
padlock on the