The Passion Season

by Libby Doyle

  I can never tell them how he seeks me still. How I can hear his voice when I am weak. When I fall into self-pity. Not even Pellus knows.

  “How is it then, that he did not succeed?”

  “Is that the point of this gathering?” Barakiel leaned forward in his seat. “To probe my loyalty?”

  Kalaziel slid her eyes to Remiel, who answered him. “Yes, warrior. If you are to participate in our tactical meetings, even in a limited way, you must be vetted.”

  Barakiel glanced at his commander.

  No doubt the High Command ordered her not to tell me. They wanted to see my unvarnished reaction.

  “I do not know how he failed to influence me. Perhaps you should ask one better versed in these matters. Perhaps someone who has not been exiled to the Earthly Realm for an age.”

  “This is necessary, warrior,” Remiel said, obviously not amused by his remark. He glanced at her again, then focused on the diamond-encrusted walls.

  “My mother was Lucifer’s mate in Union,” Barakiel said, not even bothering now to keep the pain from his voice. “Their minds had become one. She must have opened herself to him. They had a special bond.”

  “You are their progeny,” Kalaziel insisted. “You must also have a special bond.”

  “I had a special bond with my mother.” Barakiel spoke slowly, enunciating his words as he raised his chin to glare at Kalaziel. He freed his anger. His hatred. “He took her from me.”

  You think I would spy for him? He murdered my mother. He abused me, and I have been paying for his treachery my entire life.

  “He had no special bond with the Corrupted, yet he controls them,” said Praviel, the newest battalion commander, a thick-set warrior given to festooning his robes with absurdly ornate brooches. According to Remiel, Praviel had objected vociferously when the High Command suggested Barakiel participate in tactical meetings.

  An ally of Abraxos.

  The other commanders seemed surprised that Praviel had spoken. Kalaziel threw him a deadly look, but he charged on.

  “Many of us knew the Corrupted before the rebellion. They were arrogant and power mad like your father, but they were hardly the aberrations they are now. How is it that he could poison their minds so thoroughly, yet his own son emerged from his lair unscathed?”

  The glare Barakiel turned on Praviel was so filled with venom that the commander blanched.

  “Willingness,” Barakiel said. “And loyalty. These warriors admired my father. Loved him even, when they were still capable. When they fled to the Destructive Realm to escape the Council Forces, its poison must have begun to work on them all.”

  “They were like your father? Filled with that same hungry emptiness?” Kalaziel asked.

  “No. They had been devoured, like my mother. My father was different. He bent the emptiness to his will.” Fear washed through Barakiel along with his memories. Sweat rose on his skin. “He is the one who devours.”

  Kalaziel scrutinized him for a moment.

  “And we are left to wonder still,” she said, “why he did not succeed in devouring you.”

  “The Council believes my father seeks my death or enslavement because one day I could challenge him.” Barakiel sipped his root wine, focusing on the garnet color tilting in the crystal goblet as he weighed his words.

  “Perhaps the same quality of mind that allowed Lucifer to become the Lord of Destruction resides in me.” He straightened and scanned the table before he met Kalaziel’s gaze. “But I serve Balance, and I serve the Realm. If you are not convinced of that by now, words are not going to convince you.”

  The commanders exchanged glances. Barakiel caught Remiel’s eye. She was plainly angry, but he did not think her anger was for him.

  Grimacing, Kalaziel flicked her head as if to shake away unpleasant thoughts. She took a swallow of her root wine. “He wanted that quality of mind. He wanted you as his ally,” she said.

  “Yes, I believe so. He offered me his power. I played along until I had the chance to escape.”

  “Why did he not sense your subterfuge?”

  “He did sense my subterfuge. I was never alone. He waited for the power of Destruction to creep into my mind, to make me vulnerable. Like my mother. Like the Corrupted. He wanted to devour me. It did not happen. I was grieving for my mother, a vicious, biting pain. I think it saved me. You must understand, its origin was love.” Barakiel tried to remain impassive, but he knew his eyes betrayed him.

  “How did you manage to escape?” Kalaziel’s voice had grown gentle.

  She believes me. I wonder if the others do.

  “At that age, Lucifer underestimated me. He left me in the custody of Zadkiel, a Corrupted. I killed him.”

  “I remember Zadkiel,” said Hagith, one of the oldest commanders, who had not stopped chewing his lip and glaring at Praviel until that moment. “A skilled and fearless fighter, but treacherous. He would undermine his fellow warriors to gain the commanders’ favor.”

  “He gained my father’s favor. He was among the three Corrupted my father chose to implement his commands.”

  Kalaziel spoke in a faraway voice. “A High Command of Destruction.”

  “A poor imitation,” Barakiel said, shifting in his seat. “They may have dared to offer their opinion occasionally, but my father’s control was absolute. I think the only one he ever listened to was Melembec.”

  “Yes. You said during your debriefing that Melembec was one of the leaders,” Kalaziel continued. “The Council thought he had been killed.”

  “His mate saved him. Razael, the third Corrupted in Lucifer’s twisted High Command. She dragged Melembec from the battlefield. The two of them, uh, they are disgusting.” Barakiel gulped some root wine, then coughed. He began to breathe heavily.

  “Are you all right?” Remiel asked. He managed to nod.

  “You told the debriefers you had spent time with Melembec and Razael, but you refused to say anything further. Why is that?” Kalaziel asked.

  “It was too painful.”

  “I am sorry, Barakiel, but you are going to have to tell us about it now.”

  Remiel placed her hand on his arm. She didn’t know this story, but he was glad of her touch as he prepared to speak. He told himself this was his duty, that he had no choice. He kept his eyes fixed on his deep red wine.

  Speak calmly, in a strong clear voice.

  “My father left me with them. They would bind me. Melembec would rape me while Razael watched. Or he would penetrate her while she put her mouth on me. I could not control myself.”

  Barakiel struggled to keep his voice even. Although it had taken a long time, he’d made peace with his trauma. He tried not to think about it, but now that they’d forced him to, he felt the bindings cutting into his flesh. He felt the powerlessness and pain as he heard Melembec’s grunts. The shame when Razael made him respond, made him give her that part of himself.

  If I can give that to Zan, only to Zan, every time I love her I will be cleansed.

  A few of the commanders curled their lips in revulsion. The Covalent were especially repelled by such violence.

  “I am sure Lucifer gave them leave to do that to me,” Barakiel said. “He sought to break me. He did not succeed.”

  Let this teach them even more that I would never serve my father.

  CHAPTER 13

  Philadelphia

  A LIGHT RAIN FELL from a breezy sky as Zan and Rainer pulled up to his place. Zan knew she should’ve already given Rainer her little speech about keeping their relationship casual. She’d been thinking about it all week, but come Friday her nerve failed her. They’d gone to dinner and a photojournalism exhibit and she hadn’t said a word about it. Now here she was, fully intending to have sex with him, but afraid he expected her in his bed until Monday. More afraid that she wanted it, too.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here at all. Like I could resist.

  To make matters worse, she sensed a vulnerability in him, a need for her. Zan had
been trained to observe people closely. She wished she could turn it off. Wished she hadn’t noticed his haunted eyes as he took in the photographs of war.

  When they were inside the house Rainer went to the refrigerator to remove a carafe. “Would you like a drink, Zan? I made this for you. Seltzer and fresh pomegranate. Very tasty.”

  Please stop being so sweet.

  “That sounds delicious. Thank you,” she said, unable to look at him. He poured a measure of the fizzy red liquid into a champagne flute and handed it to her before he poured one for himself. She sipped and peeked at him over the top of her glass.

  “Is something bothering you?” he asked.

  “Um, Rainer, I should let you know, I have no intention of staying here tonight.”

  He gave her a probing look. “Why not?”

  “Because, um, I have a lot to do tomorrow. I have band practice and some things I have to do for work and I need a nice, long sleep.”

  Rainer pursed his delectable lips. “And the real reason?”

  Heat crept over Zan’s face.

  “Well, I think we should keep our relationship uncomplicated for a while.”

  “Uncomplicated,” he repeated flatly.

  “Yes. Simple. I have a lot going on in my life and I, um, I want to keep things casual for the moment.” Zan thought she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he slid them away from her gaze. He took a sip from his glass, then softly harrumphed. When he looked at her, whatever hurt he felt was hidden behind a wry smile.

  “All right,” he said. “Truth be told, casual would suit my situation better as well.”

  Zan felt relieved. And disappointed.

  Jesus Christ. I’m a basket case.

  Rainer lifted his chin to squint at her. “Yes, Zan. By all means, let us keep things uncomplicated,” he said before he put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her in a way that belied his words. An electric tingle pooled at the base of her neck, flowed down her spine and exploded into a dozen tendrils that reached through her body like the shimmering arms of a golden firework.

  This man. He sends my imagination into overdrive.

  He took off her clothes, running his hands lightly along her limbs until she was a little delirious. When he’d finished, he tilted her head back to kiss her, his mouth soft and warm. Zan gazed at him, eager for him to kiss her again. He gave her what she wanted as his sensitive hands palmed her breasts. Then he sucked on his fingers and reached between her legs to softly press and caress her. Zan closed her eyes and moaned.

  “I need your clothes off,” she said, reaching for his belt. She removed his garments and pushed him back against the massive kitchen table. “Get on the table.”

  “Don’t I need a condom?”

  “No. I’ve taken care of it. I plan to have boatloads of uncomplicated sex with you and I want you unsheathed.”

  Rainer chuckled and hopped on the table. She climbed on top of him and rubbed herself against him, feeling her craving grow with each juicy pass. Rainer grabbed her hair with one hand and kissed her, hard, staring at her with fire in his eyes. She adjusted her position and slowly lowered herself, taking him inside her, expelling one long “Mmmmmm,” as she savored every delicious inch. Rainer swayed beneath her, encouraging her. Grabbing his shoulders, she swirled and rocked. She felt like she was telling him things with her body. She didn’t even know what they were.

  Closing her eyes, Zan felt a strange impression of strength as billowy shapes played across her lids. Her body swelled and she lost awareness of the room as her every sense was consumed by movement. Rainer placed his hands on her hips and swept into her, over and over. She came with a violent shudder and a hearty yell. Rainer joined her with a rumble and an ecstatic arching of his back, then lay flat on the table, still inside her, staring up at her with startled intensity. Still hard. Zan had not even caught her breath when she felt that hardness double in potency.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I can’t help it,” Rainer said in a husky voice. “You’re like the fresh promise of the Earth in springtime.”

  “The things you say,” she murmured. He pulled her breast to his mouth and sucked her so tenderly she felt a sweet internal spasm. She moved again, slowly and softly at first, but building to a deep and greedy diving of her hips. Rainer held onto the edges of the table, his whitened knuckles revealing the effect of Zan’s movements. “Don’t hold yourself back on my account,” she cooed.

  That was all he needed. He rose up and flipped her onto the table. He ran his hands along her legs until they were straight up in the air, then bit her calf with a growl. Zan couldn’t reach the ends of the table to hang on, but Rainer ran his hands back down her legs to hold her by the thighs as he shoved into her with hydraulic force. She gasped and strained on the table to receive him, to open herself so he could find the place that only he could find. He moved slowly and powerfully within her, pulling her to him. When she came, she lost all awareness of her surroundings again, conscious only of Rainer, the points at which he touched her, and the flowering, hot pleasure that spread through her body.

  When Rainer felt her come to him he cradled her and moved her forward in tandem with his final surge. He lay on top of her, softly pressing. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, gripped by a wave of devotion, quickly followed by a feeling of being horribly exposed. She loosened her grip and pushed at him. He rolled off and stretched out on the table beside her, sticking his nose in her hair and flinging his arm across her chest. He made a little purring noise she would have found adorable if she hadn’t been so suddenly filled with anxiety. She lay still for a few minutes until her heart slowed from its pounding.

  “Okay, well like I said, I have a lot to do tomorrow.” She got off the table and looked around for her clothes.

  “You’re leaving?” Rainer sat up. “After that?”

  “I said I would leave, so I’m leaving.” Zan cringed inside to hear herself talk. Her voice was filled with false bravado.

  “You are the strongest-willed woman I have ever met,” Rainer said.

  “Ha! Strong-willed. My brothers would call it stubborn.”

  “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” His expression did not change. Zan gave him a fond glance.

  “Don’t worry, Rainer. We can do more righteous fucking next weekend.”

  She expected him to smile, but he frowned at her instead.

  “I also like to talk to you, you know.”

  Zan looked away. It had never occurred to her that she could hurt his feelings.

  I’m such a coward.

  “Rainer, I’m sorry. I told you. I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you told me.” From the look on his face, she knew he didn’t believe her for a second. She got dressed. Rainer leaned against the table, remaining gloriously naked.

  “Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?” Zan asked.

  Rainer tilted his head and smirked. “No.”

  “If you are trying to defeat my stubbornness, that’s not the way to go about it. Test me and I double down.”

  “Duly noted,” he said, wrapping his sculpted lips around each syllable.

  I have got to get out of here now, or he’ll succeed in keeping me.

  She left. I cannot believe I feel this way because of it. How can I miss her when she just walked out the door? I should be happy she wants an uncomplicated relationship, but I want more. I want her to trust me. I want her heart. My pain will be burned away in its fire.

  How can I be so ridiculous? I cannot even tell her what I am. Pellus would call it irresponsible, but I cannot help it. I want to love her. I will be good to her, please her like no one else can. I will protect her, support her. That is what matters. That is all that matters.

  I do not even know what it is, this rising of my mind, but it makes me feel weak. Serenely and beautifully weak.

  She said she wants to keep it simple, but I see how she wavers. I will
change her mind. The next time I love her, I will wake beside her. One more time lying in my arms in the morning light and she will be mine.

  Emanuel Morales had lived on the top floor of a dilapidated rowhome in South Philadelphia that operated as a boarding house. The whole arrangement was illegal. The place wasn’t up to code and the slumlord owner never obtained the zoning to run a commercial enterprise. After Mr. Hernan found out from Mani’s friends where he had lived, Zan tracked down the owner, Ted Kaminski, and requested a meeting. She assured him she didn’t care about his illegal business. She almost wished he had refused to talk to her. She would have had the city shut his trashy flophouse down.

  Zan met Kaminski out front. He was a corpulent man of about fifty who lived in New Jersey. They exchanged greetings and Zan reminded him that she was investigating the murder of Emanuel Morales.

  “Yeah, when you called I looked in my records,” Kaminski said. “Shows I threw him out for nonpayment. Like I said, I don’t remember him. They come and go.”

  With a huge effort of will, Zan refrained from calling him a scumbag. “What about the superintendent you mentioned on the phone? You thought he might remember Mr. Morales.”

  “Okay, yeah. Paco’s a guy I let stay for free in exchange for doing some work around the place. He might remember this guy. I think he’s here.” They entered the shabby house and followed the shadowy hall to a door at the back. Kaminski knocked.

  “Hey, Paco, you in there?” he yelled. Zan heard movement. A few seconds later Paco came to the door. He was a small, wiry man with jet black eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, maybe in his 40s. He blinked at them.

  “This is Agent O’Gara,” Kaminski said. “She’s from the FBI, but don’t get all freaked out. She just wants to ask about some guy. What’s his name?”

  “Emanuel Morales. His friends called him Mani.”

  Paco sized Zan up with a slight movement of his eyes. He mumbled something in Spanish and Zan cursed herself for not bringing Elena.

  “Please, sir. Mr. Morales’ body was found this past winter. Someone killed him. We are trying to bring his killers to justice. Mr. Hernan asked his friends where he lived. That’s how I knew to come here.”