Angeline lowered herself into the limo and reached out with shaking hands to pour herself a crystal glass of Absolute, neat. She downed the fiery liquor and refilled the glass. Her heart was hammering in her chest.
“Where do you want to go now, Miss Angeline?” Devlin asked, looking at her through the rear view mirror.
“Home,” she said. “I have to get ready.”
Devlin nodded, wondering where she was going that night or what man she’d drag home to her bed. Not that he cared. Such things were nothing more than amusements to him. Sometimes she let him watch from the hidden room off her bedroom. That was enough for him.
Angeline was unaware of the scenery as they left the store at Cordova Mall. The traffic was just a hindrance; the endless drive over the Pensacola Bay Bridge, a nuisance. Every red light, every slow or turning car, every pedestrian, every four-way stop was an excruciating obstruction keeping her from reaching her bedroom.
The maid at the front door pondered at the vague look her mistress gave her as Miss Angeline hurried up the curving staircase to her boudoir.
“What lit a fire under her tail?” the upstairs maid asked a few moments later when she joined the downstairs maid and cook in the kitchen. “She’s tossing dresses around up there like she’s going to a state dinner.”
“A man,” the cook sneered. “It’s always a man.” She rolled out the dough for a lemon meringue pie, Angeline’s favorite. “She’s husband-hunting again.”
“You think so?” the butler asked as he looked up from polishing the silver tea pot.
“Uh-huh,” the cook grumbled. “Some old fart who’ll want oatmeal for breakfast with his bran flakes.”
“And who’ll need me to help him get dressed in the morning,” the butler sighed, resuming his polishing. “For this I was conjured?” He shook his head.
“But he’ll be rich as Midas, that you can be sure,” the downstairs maid giggled.
The cook nodded. “Yep.”
Three Weeks Later
Devlin flung the plate of food toward the cell and waited until the man inside had it before he started back up the stairs. “Don’t guess she’s going to be keeping you here much longer,” the servant chuckled as he climbed.
Syntian glanced up from his food. He didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing him ask why, but the shifting in the Veil had become so powerful, he was getting daily impressions of impending doom and had been worried about it for several days. He put the plate down and got to his feet, went to the bars. “Why not?”
The servant turned around at the top of the stairs and glared at him. “She’s getting married to some pog and he’s going to take her to that country of his.” He thrust out his chest. “I’ll be going, too, but you won’t.”
Unease made Syntian clutch the bars in front of him. “Did she say that?”
Devlin sensed the other man’s fear and he laughed, liking the power his knowledge had over the prisoner. “She says she wants to get hold of that Book she was talking about and buy it from the woman who has it.” He took a step down the stairs. “Once she has it, she can send you back where you belong.”
The unease turned to instant alarm. “There’s only one woman who can send me back to the Abyss and she won’t do it. You can remind Angeline of that if you want to.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.” Devlin took another few steps down the stairs. “If memory serves right, the female who has the Book is named Lauren. Isn’t that it? Lauren?”
Syntian stared at him. “Lauren doesn’t have the Book. She can’t have it. Her mother has the Book.”
“Her dam is dead,” Devlin growled. “Dead and gone.” He stepped off the stairs and stood facing Syntian. “Car wreck about a week ago. Wasn’t anything left of her, but bones. Said in the paper it was one of the worst wrecks ever in Santa Rosa County.”
True terror shot through Syntian. If Lauren had found the Book and if somehow Angeline could get her to do what needed to be done to send him back to his own private hell, the bitch would do it and Lauren wouldn’t even know what she’d done until it was too late to correct the error. He’d wanted Lauren to find the Book, but he sure as hell didn’t want Angeline to get her hands on it.
“She’s going to be here tonight,” Devlin remarked, watching the look of hope form on the prisoner’s face.
“Lauren?” he asked, his heart hammering even faster against his rib cage. “She’s going to be here?”
Devlin had long since lost his fear of the man inside the cell. He had even walked up to the bars on many occasions and peered down at Syntian Cree, daring the bastard to try something, but after the incidence with the water hose, the man appeared to be afraid of him.
“That pog Miss Angeline is marrying is going to be here, too. They’re having one of those fancy dinner parties like you see in the movies.”
Syntian had no idea of the rift his disappearance had caused between Lauren and Angeline. Angeline had never mentioned it to him. As far as he knew, Lauren was still working at the store, seeing Angeline two or three times a week if not more.
“Tell Angeline I want to see her,” Syntian asked, reaching out a pleading hand to Devlin. “Please, Devlin. Will you do that?”
“Why should I?” Devlin grumbled, coming as close to the cell as he thought advisable. He was out of range of that questing hand. “I don’t give a damn what you want, Cree!”
“Please?” He put every ounce of whining servitude and deference he could into the word. “Devlin, please. I’m begging you.”
“Tough shit,” the servant sneered. He reached out and batted Syntian’s hand away. “I’m not telling her nothing!”
It wasn’t hard to snag the man’s shirtsleeve and yank him to the bars. It wasn’t hard to circle his neck and squeeze, cutting off his cry in mid-press. The demon inside the humanoid body Syntian destroyed was reduced to a squeaking blob that was easily ground beneath the heel of his boot. The spirit inside the demon fled back through time and space and eternity, much as Delbert’s had, to once more sink beneath the Slime of the Pit.
“Tough shit, Devlin,” Syntian growled as he licked the last of the blood from his fingers and arms. “You don’t have to tell her nothing, now. She’ll know and come down here.”
The wad of clothing that had adorned the servant’s body made an adequate nest for his head as he lay down on the cell’s floor, chewing thoughtfully on the last of the right femur. He picked at his teeth, grinning.
Lauren’s face intruded on his bloodlust and the grin slowly dissolved. She would be here tonight. His wife would be near him that very night.
He had to find a way to see her.
He had to.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ben Hurlbert’s eyebrows shot up with surprise when he saw the cab pull up in front of 242 Riana del Sol and Lauren Fowler Cree climbed out of the back. He’d been sitting there for the last half hour, trying to get up the courage to go ask the woman once more if she knew anything at all about Syntian Cree’s disappearance. Others had questioned her, even Ben, himself, but he’d had the strangest feeling all day that he should go see the woman, and he had acted on that feeling. But once he had arrived at her condo, he had lost his nerve, not knowing what else he could possibly ask her that he hadn’t already. Seeing Lauren going up the steps of the condo, made him instantly alert and worried.
The interior of the condominium was more luxurious than Lauren could have imagined. She smiled as the maid took her light sweater and declined the offer of a cocktail from the elegant black butler who had bowed to her.
“Miss Angeline says to make yourself at home, Mrs. Cree. She had to see to some last minute business, but she’ll be along shortly. Would you follow me, please?”
Lauren nodded politely and followed the butler into the spacious Great Room where there was a sweeping view of the Gulf. Despite herself, and her intentions, she was impressed by the grandeur of the view. She was vaguely aware of the but
ler taking his leave as she stared at the spectacular vista spread out before her.
Sitting on one of the conversation groupings closest to the expanse of glass, she looked out at the waters, wondering what business Angeline could have had. Idly, she wondered if Syntian was that business.
Not that it mattered. Before the night was over, Angeline would be gone. Forever.
And so would Syntian Cree.
A sound behind her made Lauren turn. She smiled and extended her hand to the man who had joined her. “Prince Jaleel?” she inquired.
Prince Jaleel Jaborn took her hand in his and kissed it. “At your service, milady,” he said. His eyes bored into hers. “And your service, alone.”
Angeline glared at the wad of clothing in the middle of the cell then turned her furious gaze to Syntian. “You son-of-a-bitch!” she seethed.
“Come a little closer and I’ll make mincemeat out of you, too, you stinking Cunt,” he chortled.
“You’re going to pay for that, Syntian,” she shouted at him, pointing to what was left of Devlin.
“You keep making promises you can’t keep, Angeline,” he said, yawning. “Don’t you get tired of it?”
She clenched her hands into fists. “After tonight, my arrogant demon, the only promise you need worry about is the one I made to cast you back into the Abyss.”
“Lauren won’t give you the Book, and even if she did,” he told her, meeting her furious gaze with a calm one of his own, “it would be worthless to you.”
“Oh, I know only she can send you back, but I intend to see that she does before this night is over!”
“She’ll have to see me to do that, Angeline,” he answered. “How are you going to explain my being locked up here?”
“I won’t need to!” Angeline spat at him. “She’s upstairs right this minute with Jaleel and he will see to it she does just what I want.”
Syntian’s smile slipped only a bit. “Your current paramour, Angeline?” he sneered. “Some minor demon you conjured for your amusement?”
Angeline laughed, a brittle sound that was pure revenge. “He’s a NightWind, Syntian,” she whispered. “A NightWind even more powerful than you! And he’s all mine!”
The shifting in the Veil became a rending tear and he came slowly to his feet, hearing the truth of her words as she spoke them. He clutched at the bars to his prison.
“You don’t have the ability to conjure a NightWind, Angeline,” he denied. “I know you don’t.”
“No, I did not conjure him. There have been stories written about Jaleel Jaborn for years. Who knew he was a NightWind? One so powerful he doesn’t even need a mortal to be bound to. I knew the moment he touched me he was one of you, but he does not know I know what he is!”
He had heard of Jaleel Jaborn, too, but he had no idea the man was one of his own kind. He wasn’t sure it was possible for a NightWind to exist in this world without sanction and bondage to a mortal woman, but if it could be done by one it could be done by two. He had only to find out how Jaborn had done it. If such a feat were possible, it would be in the Book.
“Let me see her, Angeline,” he asked, reached out to her through the bars. “Let me speak to her.”
“Oh, I might, my demon. I might.” She flicked her long skirt aside and started the climb up the stairs. “Just before I am ready to send you back.”
“Angeline!” he shouted after her. “Let me see her!”
“No,” came the hardy laugh just before the door shut.
“Angeline!”
“He’s in the basement,” Jaleel told Lauren. “And not in a very good mood, either.” He took a sip of the mineral water the butler had provided for him. “His thoughts are of you. He is in agony being apart from you, my lady.”
“Where is she?” Lauren asked, still watching the crashing waves of the Gulf slapping against the condo’s pilings.
“About to join us,” Jaleel answered. He leaned forward and put his glass on the brass top of the lacquered coffee table and stood up, adjusted his silk shirt and turned to face the woman who was even then coming into the room. “Precious Jewel of my heart,” he said silkily, skirting the sofa on which he and Lauren had been sitting. “Every absence makes my blood run hotter still.”
Angeline smiled into his breathtaking face as he lifted her hand to his lips. “Have you been entertaining Lauren, Jaleel?”
“He’s been regaling me with stories of his homeland,” Lauren said, looking away from the ocean and coming to her feet. “You will enjoy living there.”
“I look forward to it,” Angeline admitted. “Please. Sit. Dinner will be just a few minutes late. Cook will not serve it until she is convinced everything is just so.”
Lauren walked to the window and stared down at the crashing water. “This is a lovely place, Mrs. Hellstrom. Won’t you be sorry to leave it?”
“Yes, but Jaleel has assured me he will buy me a villa on the Riviera, haven’t you, darling?” She took his arm as he led her to the sofa.
“I will give you everything you deserve, Precious One,” he answered.
Lauren smiled at her reflection in the glass.
“Have you heard anything from Syntian, Lauren?” Angeline asked.
“Oh, I know where he is,” Lauren told her, turning so she could look into Angeline’s surprised face. She shrugged. “I know he’s here with you.” She cocked a dark brow, “and has been all along.”
Jaleel turned to his fiancée. “Who is this man of whom she speaks, Angeline?”
Angeline stared at Lauren. “Is that what Maxine told you?”
“Among other things,” Lauren answered. “When do I get to see him?” She smiled nastily. “That is why you brought me here, isn’t it? To see him one last time?”
Confusion spread over Angeline’s lovely face and she turned to the man at her side, looking into his steady gaze. “He’s a NightWind, Jaleel.”
Jaleel Jaborn’s left brow lifted sardonically. “Is that so?” He glanced at Lauren, then at Angeline. “How does this one know of such a one?”
“She doesn’t know what he is,” Angeline scoffed. “He—”
“He is my husband,” Lauren told Jaleel. She watched his expression change subtlety as his attention came back to her. “She has been keeping him here against his will and I have come to retrieve him.”
“Something I, of course, will not allow,” Angeline spat. She faced Lauren. “You have the Book?” she asked.
“I do,” Lauren replied. “And I know exactly what a NightWind is and I know this,” she pointed at Jaleel, “is one, as well.”
Angeline managed to conceal her shock. Her lips parted in a vicious smile. “Your mother didn’t have time to teach you about all that is within the Book,” Angeline snapped. “If you think to spar with me, I suggest you don’t. You would be as chaff in the wind to me.”
Lauren laughed, but it was not the meek, mild-mannered laugh that Angeline knew. It was a mocking laugh filled with contempt. “I’m sure Mama thought that, too,” she sneered, “just before I pitched her into Raphian’s open arms.”
A faint quiver of disbelief passed over Angeline’s face, but then she recovered, stepping closer to the man at her side. “Can you do something about her, Jaleel?”
Jaborn was watching Lauren as he questioned the older woman. “What would you have me do, Precious One?”
Angeline hissed, clutching at his arm. “Stop her from freeing him, you fool!”
Jaleel stepped away from her, shaking loose of her fevered grip, and went to Lauren. He looked down into her face. “That I can do,” he answered.
Lauren locked her gaze with his. “I don’t think so.”
“Try me, milady,” he said, his gaze intent on her.
Angeline sensed a strange undercurrent flowing between the man and woman before her, but she was too afraid of Syntian getting loose to try to understand what might be happening. “He’s in a cell in the basement, Jaleel,” she said in a rush. “Can you speak a rune she
can not break?”
“He had better not try.”
Jaleel’s eyes turned hard as he stared at Lauren. He spoke to Angeline. “Which way is the basement?”
Lauren reached out to stop him, to grab his arm but he moved too quickly away from her. She called out to him to stop, but he ignored her, his long stride widening the distance between them as she rushed to intercept him.
“Jaleel!” Lauren yelled. “No!” She started after him.
Angeline made a grab for the younger woman, surprised how easily Lauren evaded her attempt. She ran after the girl, yelling for the servants to stop her, but no one came to do so.
Jaleel reached the locked basement door and jerked at it, furious when it held. He yanked hard against it and the casing splintered; the door pulled half off its hinges as he slammed it against the wall.
Syntian’s head came up quickly. He scrambled to his feet as he saw the dark bulk of the man coming down the dimly lit stairs. He knew who it was and even before Jaborn reached the bars of the cell, he heard Lauren yelling for him to stop.
“Jaleel! Please don’t!”
“Bastard!” Syntian heard Jaborn hiss at him. He backed away from the bars only a fraction of a second before the man on the other side of them thrust his hand through in an attempt to grab Syntian’s throat.
“You’ll not have her!” Jaborn bellowed. “I have claimed her as my own!”
Syntian was oblivious to the two women careening down the basement steps. He was staring into the enraged eyes of one of his own kind and he knew he faced an enemy that was far more powerful and much more deadly than any he had ever faced before. The man on the other side of the bars was already pulling at the door, cursing and spitting like the demon he was in an attempt to get the lock open.
“Syntian!” Lauren whispered as she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the apparition of her husband locked within the confines of the cell. She stopped, pained by his appearance: the gauntness of his face, the haunted look there, the filthy trousers and greasy hair hanging in matted clumps about his naked shoulders. Overcome with the horrid smell emanating from the rear of the cage, she put her hand over her mouth and saw him jerk a glance toward her.
NightWind 1st Book: HellWind Trilogy Page 31