by Elle Jasper
“So why here and why now?” I ask. “Why have the Fallen suddenly shown up seeking it in Edinburgh?”
Darius meets my questioning gaze with intense amber eyes. “A perfect example of Jake’s earlier words,” he says solemnly. “There are always others more powerful than you. The Celtae, whilst not exactly more powerful, were cunning. And determined.” He rubs his jaw with his hand. “They used magic from the Seiagh to conceal it from the Fallen, yet were so convinced they could overcome their deaths and reclaim the book, they created an intricate path, filled with riddles and clues, to the Seiagh’s location. My brethren and I knew then that the Seiagh would need protecting, to keep others from finding it. We appointed our own bloodline as these protectors. Sacrificed peaceful eternity in order to guard the book and make sure it never, ever reached the hands of others.” He sighs, and glances at Sydney Maspeth. “We then appointed an Archivist—one who, centuries after the book had been gone, would be the only one left who could read the ancient language. That would be Sydney, and she’s the only Archivist in existence. Once the Seiagh is located, her job is to read the one ancient spell that will destroy the book itself.”
I gaze at Sydney, who merely stares back at me. So her destiny had been decided centuries before she was even born. Damn. Maybe all of ours were.
“And the Black Fallen?” Eli asks beside me.
“Call it . . . prophecy. They are in the position to know things of a higher power. They created the Seiagh. The spells within gave them their power on Earth. It was stolen from them. They know its capabilities. But they could not undo the spells keeping the book masked.” He again glances at Sydney. “But they were very much aware of when the Seiagh would reappear: with the appearance of the Archivist.”
“So now they’re just . . . waiting?” asks Victorian.
Darius shakes his head. “Not exactly. For as powerful as they are, they do have a weakness. In order to maintain their human form, they must find souls to replenish their unholy forms.” He looks at me. “Without them, the Fallen will disintegrate in a matter of time. They are not meant to exist on this plane.”
My head is spinning. So much to take in and remember. So much stuff to learn about otherbeings. So many rules. Who makes up all these rules anyway?
“Depends on what you believe in,” Jake answers my thoughts. “Where matters of Heaven and Hell are concerned, well, I’m sure you know who makes those rules up.”
“And how do the Fallen manage to get willing participants to just give up their souls?” asks Noah. He leans forward, muscular forearms resting on his knees. “Do they have mind control?”
Darius answers. “Yes. But they have to use a medium to lure their victims.”
“And what is that?” asks Lucian.
“The Jodís,” replies Darius. His amber gaze scans the team. “Jodís are demonlike beings created by the Fallen. A concocted being pulled straight from the pages of the Seiagh itself. They’re made to appear human, but they’re anything but. They are . . .”
“Hideous,” I answer.
All eyes turn to me.
Eli’s hand slides over my lap and his fingers lace through mine. He squeezes. “Riley experienced a vision through Sydney’s eyes once before,” he clarifies.
“It can be overwhelming,” Jake says, as if reading my mind. Then he looks pointedly at me. “But I wouldna have chosen you, or the others, had you not been capable of comprehending. As for the souls . . . the Jodís take the victim’s heart. Literally. Take it straight to the Fallen.”
“Damn,” I say, and I say it again to myself. Damn. “That’s brutal.”
“Aye. It is.”
I meet Jake’s gaze. “I can handle it.”
His eyes smile. “I know that.”
“The only way to kill a Jodís or a Black Fallen is by beheading them,” Gabriel announces.
I groan out loud.
Several chuckles fill the room.
“Not to worry,” Gabriel adds. “Part of your training will be on the handling of a broadsword.”
“What’s the other part of training?” Noah asks, all too excitedly.
“How to keep it concealed,” Sydney finishes. “Not as easy as you might think.”
“Back to the tome,” Darius continues. “In order to find the Seiagh and vanquish it forever, there are three ancient relics that must be found. Before the Celtae were killed we . . . extracted some information from them. Not everything, but enough.”
I shudder to think of what that extraction consisted of. Torture. The Celtae must’ve been some hard asses.
Darius gives me a slight nod, proving my assumption. “Each is encrypted with a verse that, when all three are combined, will lead to the physical location of the dark tome. Once the tome is found, only Sydney—and the Black Fallen—can read the incantations. There is only one that will disintegrate the Seiagh.”
“So, basically, it’s a race to get the book first,” Victorian says. “Why don’t we simply kill the Fallen?”
“As long as the Seiagh exists, mankind is in danger. It has to be destroyed, as well as the Fallen,” Gabriel says. “Unfortunately, we will have to lure them. And they want Ms. Maspeth almost as badly as they want the Seiagh.”
Jake crosses his arms over his chest. “We’ve become more than just slayers of otherworldly beings.” He sweeps us all with a stealthy glance. “We have to keep as many innocents alive as possible. And Ms. Poe has certain . . . gifts no one else possesses.”
“Yeah,” Noah says. “Like she can fight like unholy Hell? And she’s mean as shit?”
I grab a piece of thigh muscle through Noah’s jeans and pinch. Hard.
His face actually turns red.
“She does have dominant mind control now,” Eli says. His voice is low, tinged with unease. “Let me guess. She’s going to be used as bait.” He glances down at me. “She’ll be more than up for it, unfortunately.”
Jake rubs his jaw. “Her skills, aye, they’ll certainly come in handy. Her mind control is indeed a major factor, as well. We do have one small advantage,” he continues. “Whatever spell they use to create the Jodís exhausts them. It takes three to four consecutive days for the Fallen to regenerate. We know this to be accurate, as the last two batches of Jodís Gabriel and Sydney have vanquished did not regenerate until the appropriate amount of time had passed.”
Sydney nods. “The spell drains the Black Fallen, so it must be a pretty potent one.”
“Indeed,” Jake continues. “The Fallen have names.” He looks at me. “Canthor. Danu. And the youngest, Athios. Two have been condemned for some time. But we know very little about the youngest one, Athios.”
I have to wonder which of the three appeared in my dream earlier.
“So, how are we to find them?” Ginger asks. “They’re undetectable, right?”
Jake, Gabriel, and Darius share a look, then turn their stares to me. “That’s where Ms. Poe comes in,” Gabriel says.
“We have to infiltrate their circle,” Jake continues. “They might be undetectable to look upon and pick out of a crowd,” he says. “At first. But then, so are we.”
“Their desires and mannerisms are predictable,” Darius states. “They are not unlike other fallen angels. They crave power. Sex. They’re posh. And they like . . . flashy things. Plus there’s a chance Riley may be able to actually hear them, if she concentrates, as she has remarkable hearing and a sense of smell that far exceeds even her vampire benefactors.”
I glance at Noah. “It’s true. I do.”
Noah grins.
“And they don’t like to get their hands dirty,” Jake clarifies. “It’s one reason why they’ve created the Jodís.” He looks at me. “To bring the souls to them.”
I draw a deep breath, push it out slowly between my teeth. “Are the Jodís detectable?”
Darius nods. “Aye. Their pupils aren’t normal. They’re vertical.”
I stare back. “So we have to be close enough to see their pupils before
taking them out?”
“No,” Sydney says. “They cannot tolerate the daylight. And they have a certain scent only another otherbeing can detect. They stink to high Heaven.”
My brain twists at all that’s been said. So much to know, so much to understand.
“Taking out newlings is much easier,” I say under my breath. Just months ago the extent of my dealings with the paranormal extended to slaying newly created vampires. I could tell this would be a lot more challenging.
“That’s why we’ll begin training right away,” Jake says. “You’ll break into groups. Darius, Gabriel, and I will enlighten you on the use of a broadsword. We’ve a couple of specialists paying us a visit later on. Quite proficient in the use of a sword, these two. You’ll appreciate their expertise.”
Beside me, Noah rubs his hands together in anticipation. “I love swords.”
“Well,” I say, standing. My insides are already taut with anticipation. “Let’s get at it, then.”
“Let me emphasize one thing. For all we know, the Fallen have found a way to overcome their regeneration time. I don’t trust their window, or them,” Jake adds. “It’s safer to assume they’re strengthened now, creating more Jodís.”
“Which means more innocent kills,” I say.
“Unfortunately, yes. Sydney and Gabriel just disposed of the last of them two days ago. But they’re fast and difficult to spot, especially after they’ve been newly created. Perhaps with more of us we can eliminate the number of innocent victims. We’ll spend what free time we have now to familiarize you with Edinburgh and her fishbone streets, closes and wynds, as well as honing your skills. We’ll break to eat first,” Jake says, then scans the group. “For those who eat food, the kitchen is fully stocked, or there’s a chippy just out the gates of the Crescent on Canongate, across the street. Bene’s Fish and Chips. Great takeaway. Plus numerous other establishments along the Mile. For those who prefer to drink,” he says with a grin, “yours will be in the red refrigerator. Courtesy of Preacher. There is a month’s supply. Let’s meet upstairs in thirty minutes. And if you go out, watch your backs.”
As I fix my gaze on Darius, Jake, and Gabriel, I have a feeling training with three ancient Celtic immortals will be slightly different than hand-to-hand fighting with the Dupré family.
Part Three
SKILLS DAY
In London there is a man who screams when the church bells ring.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The Descendant”
I already can see a sisterhood forming with Riley, and I’m glad. Grateful. I’ve been feeling so alone in all this, like the only female thrown into a world of evil chaotic males. Well, Darius and Gabriel are far from evil, but you get my drift. It’s nice to have another female in the mix. Ginger, too, although she’s relatively new to the team. I’m not sure they’re entirely aware of what’s coming, the black storm of evil that’s descending upon Edinburgh. But they will. And I can tell we are all better off having Riley on our team.
—Sydney Maspeth
Bene’s proves to be a potential favorite place to eat in Edinburgh. Just enough room in the small take-out spot to step inside, drool over the selection of foods (excluding haggis—um, no, thank you), give your order, and either step back outside or hug the wall and wait. The guys behind the counter were superfriendly and fast. Both only briefly glimpsed at my inked wings and then continued on with their cheerful, brogue-tinged conversation. I like that, and it makes me think Edinburgh is as diverse as any other city; even the folks at Bene’s aren’t surprised by a girl with tattooed black wings on her face. I haven’t explored other eateries yet, but, man—Bene’s big batter-fried slabs of haddock, and mountain of chips dowsed in malt vinegar and some weird-looking but delicious brown sauce? Let’s just say the voracious appetite that is now part of my Frankenstein-like genetic makeup overdid itself. I ate like a freaking hog. And I’m feeling it. I almost want to let out the top two buttons on my jeans.
It was so good.
We’re getting ready to start training with the swords, and I don’t want to be impaled because I can’t breathe from too much Bene’s. I leave Eli, who is talking to Jake about the layout of Edinburgh, in the kitchen and hurry through the front sitting room, where Lucian and Ginger are talking to Victorian, and bound up the steps to the second floor. Jogging to the end of the corridor, I slip into my and Eli’s room, cross over to my duffel on the floor where I dropped it earlier, throw it onto the bed, and start rifling through it. I find a tie for my hair and pull it back into a ponytail. Next, a pair of black Lycra pants. I toe off my boots, unbutton my jeans, and slide them over my hips. Kicking them into a pile, I pull on the Lycra and fish in my duffel for a shirt. Finding a black tank top, I grab the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head.
“How long did it take to ink that dragon onto your back?”
I don’t jump in surprise, nor do I snap around and cover myself. My modesty went out the window years ago. “I heard you cracking your knuckles as you left your room, Noah Miles,” I say. I pull the tank over my head and turn around. “You don’t think you can possibly sneak up on me. Do you, bro?”
“Maybe. But I don’t see how you can sneak up on anyone, woman. I can hear the fish and chips sloshing around in your gut,” Noah says. He’s leaning against the doorframe of my room, arms crossed over his chest, grinning. Clad in a pair of black running pants and a plain white T-shirt, he looks about as average as any guy in a gym. Well, except for his extraordinary good looks. Painfully good, even.
He grins. “So. How long?”
I ignore the fact that he randomly reads my thoughts any time he wants. “It took several sittings, maybe four to five hours each,” I answer. “You outline first, then once it heals, maybe in three to four weeks, the color is added.”
“You miss it?” Noah adds. He walks over, lifts one of my bare arms, and studies the intricate dragon’s tail winding from shoulder to fingertip.
“Yeah,” I say. “Why—you want one?” I grin at him.
Noah’s head is bent over my forearm. “Maybe,” he says, lowers my arm, and looks at me. “You’re going to have to keep covered while we’re here,” he says. “You know that, right?”
Grabbing my black Nikes from my bag, I pull them on. “What do you mean?”
“Like Andorra says, you need to draw as little attention to yourself as possible,” Noah says. “This isn’t Savannah, babe. Your ink sticks out. Draws unwanted attention you don’t want to have to deal with. Locals.” With a knuckle, he grazes the wings at my eye. “And, yeah, I know you can handle yourself.”
He does, too. I like that about Noah. He has my back if I need it, but I seriously have to need it before he jumps in to cover me. He respects my abilities. Gotta love that about a three-hundred-year-old vampire. With dreads. And, maybe he’s right. Although the guys at Bene’s accept my body art, I definitely don’t want to stick out.
“And my alluring silver eyes, don’t forget,” he adds, batting his long lashes. Infiltrating my thoughts. Again.
“You’re ridiculous, Noah,” I say, and I can’t help but smiling at him. He’s such a freaking kid. Yet . . . to see him change, to see his fangs drop, and to see him fight? Breathtakingly beautiful. I know that makes me sound a little sick, and I guess I am. I punch his arm. “Let’s go.”
Noah and I walk out of the room together and head down the corridor.
“This place is a little creepy. Don’t you think?” he says as we near the steps. “There’s something, I don’t know, weird about the idea of little unruly schoolkids that freaks me out.”
I shake my head as we jog up the steps to the third-floor training area. “Yeah, I agree. Little pale-skinned Victorian-era kids, wearing black dresses and stockings and button-up boots, is definitely creepy,” I say.
“Slipping around corners, talking in hushed whispers, and just being . . . weird,” Noah adds. “Kids,” he says with a shudder.
We both chuckle as we hit the third-floor landing.
Halfway down the corridor is an open set of dark double doors. We step through, and Jake, who is standing close by, gives me a grin.
“You’ve reason to suspect the children once housed here were creepy,” he says. “They were”—he strokes his chin—“extraordinary, one might say.”
“Extraordinary?” I ask. The others in the room—Ginger, Lucian, Victorian, Noah, and Eli—all turn to listen.
“Aye,” he continues. “All had exceptional gifts. Levitation. Mind reading. Transversing space. Just to name a few. Unfortunately, though, their families and the general public of Edinburgh thought they were mad,” he says, and looks at me. “Insane.”
“We’re staying in an old Victorian-era children’s insane asylum?” Noah asks. He looks at me. “I knew it.”
“The chamber you’re residing in, Noah, once belonged to one Professor Gallagher,” Jake says.
Noah nods. “And?”
“He was found dead, huddled against the wall near your bed,” Jake adds. “An expression of terror frozen onto his weathered face and one hand held up in defense.”
“The other hand?” Noah prods, clearly enjoying Jake’s tale.
Jake’s gaze narrows. “Clutching his rosary.”
Noah nods. “I’ve caused a similar response in folks myself a time or two, Andorra.” He eyes me and winks. “Before I became a guardian, darlin’.”
I just look at him sideways. “Hmm.”
“The professor was literally frightened to death,” Jake continues. “By one of his pupils.” He smiles. “Little Lily Johnson.”
“Och, Lily,” Gabriel says as he enters the dojo. He’s wearing black martial arts pants and tunic tied with a black belt. The man is huge—nearly larger than Eli. And all that long, straight black hair clasped at the nape and hanging down his back. Impressive, to say the very least.
“What about Lily?” Noah asks.
Gabriel almost smiles. “Let’s just say if you encounter her, dunna look her in the eye.”