by S. J. Day
“Yeesh.” She shook her head. “You scared me, Father.”
“Sorry.” Father Riesgo’s smiling green eyes softened his rugged features. He looked so out of place in the priest’s collar that it almost had the look of a costume. Frankly, he looked more renegade than missionary. His cheek was marred by a knife scar and his dark hair was overlong and slicked back in a short tail. Just shy of six feet and built like a tank, Riesgo wasn’t handsome, but he was very charismatic and singularly compelling.
“How are you, Ms. Hollis?”
“I’m good.” Thumping came from Eve smacked her hand down on it.
Riesgo frowned. “What was wthat?”
“What was what?”
“That noise.”
“I didn’t hear anything.” She glanced around war: ily, noting how the Infernals held back. Maybe due to Alec’s unspoken threat, maybe due to the presence of a priest. “So. . . how are you?”
His gaze lifted from the trunk to meet hers. “Better now that I’ve seen you.”
For some men, that would have been a pickup line. With Riesgo, it was her soul that interested him, not the package it came in.
“Have you been reading the Bible I gave you?” he asked.
“I did. Thank you. I’ve been meaning to bring it back to you, but work has been crazy lately.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Alec could melt wax with his voice, but Riesgo was no slouch in the alluring department. His voice bore the deep sultriness of a phone sex operator. Not that she’d ever called a sex line, but she imagined that’s what the men who worked them would sound like. Eve wondered if he was aware of how many women attended mass at St. Mary’s just to hear him talk with that suave Spanish accent.
“No questions,” she replied, listening to the rumble of the Harley fade as Alec circled the other side of the block.
“And you don’t want to keep it for future reference?”
More pounding came from the trunk.
“No thanks,” she said, careful not to raise her voice even though it was competing with the noise from the tengu. “I have a good memory.”
“What is in your trunk, Ms. Hollis?” he shouted.
“Excuse me?” Her car was beginning to rock and she pushed down harder on the trunk with her super- strength to keep it still.
He leaned closer. “What. Is. That. Noise ?“ “I don’t hear anything.”
A dark brow arched. Reaching out, his long fingers caught the keys held in her free hand and tugged them free of her grip. Not that she offered much resistance. She was too shocked by the way he took over. How could a man so clearly commanding in nature become a Catholic priest?
With his foreann, he pushed her back from the car. When it began to bounce violently, he shot her a challenging glance.
“You’re pushy, Father.”
Riesgo hit the trunk release and it popped open. The tengu froze. The car settled. With one hand on the lip of the trunk lid and the other holding the keys at his side, he stared down at what was a gargoyle statue to his eyes.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
The tengu’s head shook violently.
“It’s cute.” Riesgo glanced at her. The tengu stuck his tongue out behind the priest’s back. “What’s the matter with your car?”
“Nothing. Runs like a dream. I recommend the 300 to everyone.”
Alec’s Harley rumbled to a stop beside them. From behind the shield of her sunglasses, her eyes ate him up as if he was dessert. Which was a fairly apt description, now that she thought of it. He’d hooked her the same way ten years ago. A hottie on a Harley.
He cut the engine and smiled at Riesgo. “Father.”
The two men shook hands.
“You might want to take Ms. Hollis’s car to the dealership,” Riesgo suggested. “Her rear shocks are bad.”
Alec looked at Eve who jerked her chin toward the open trunk.
“I think it’s due for regular maintenance,” Alec conceded with a big smile, his teeth white against his tanned skin.
Riesgo turned back to Eve and held out the keys. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
Beyond his shoulder, she saw the proliferation of demons lying in wait. “Be careful on the way back to the church, Father.”
After another long look into the trunk, he shook his head and closed it again. With a wave, Eve hurried to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. Alec shot off ahead of her and she pulled out behind him. The tengu began kicking the backseat.
“Dumping him in the ocean is a great idea,” Reed drawled from the passenger seat.
Eve swerved like a drunk. “Damn it! Don’t startle me like that!”
“You’re jumpy,” She felt his gaze move along the side of her face.
“Hell is breaking loose. Literally. I have good cause.”
His hand settled on her knee. The warmth seeped through the worn denim and into the flesh beneath. I won’t let anything happen to you.
In the enclosed confines of her car, the scent that was distinctly Reed’s filled her nostrils—leather and starch, a hint of spice and heated male skin. Comforted by his proximity, she set one hand atop his and squeezed.
The tengu continued to bounce around in the trunk of her car.
“If you dent my car,” she yelled over her shoulder, “you’ll really piss me off!”
The intensity of the blows reduced, but the frequency didn’t slow.
Alec passed through Brookhurst, confirming that he was headed for Gadara Tower. That worked for her. She didn’t want the tengu in her house for any reason. The damn things were bad luck.
Sensing Reed’s disquiet, she asked, “What’s troubling you?”
“I’ve been looking into our Nix problem.”
“Oh?”
“It’s been two months since you blew him up, but there have been no new reports of murders with his calling card—until this past week.”
“Maybe the police have kept it under wraps. They do that sometimes.”
His fingers linked with hers, then he moved their joined hands to his thigh. “You watch too much television. And quit feeling guilty for touching me.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “Burning a stick of dynamite at both ends makes me nervous.”
An image of him covering a disheveled Sara on the floor entered his head, and subsequently hers. Her breath held as she absorbed the searing flash of jealousy she wasn’t expecting.
Reed stared straight ahead. His Ray-Bans hid his gaze and his profile revealed nothing more than a ticcing muscle in his jaw. “It’s not what you think’ he bit out.
Eve blanked her mind. “You don’t know what I think.”
“You drive me nuts.”
“That’s not me. That’s all the stuff you have rushing through your brain.” There was a tremendous amount of information moving through him—kill orders flowing down from Alec, assignments meted out to the Marks under him, reports coming back in from them. The human mind could never handle such an influx and outpouring of information simultaneously, but mat ‘akhs dealt with it daily. The teeny bit she felt through him was cringe-worthy.
Eve tugged at the hand he held. He released it. “I think we need some distance between the three of us.”
His lips thinned. “Why do women always pull this shit when they get jealous?”
“Fuck you, you conceited bastard.”
“I’m not the bastard,” he bit out.
“I’m a liability and you know it. This dating bullshit isn’t worth the risk. Alec can.’t feel anything for me and you’re not there yet. We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. Better sooner than later,” His head turned toward her. “Is Cain getting this little speech, too?”
She nodded. “He will.”
“So. . . you’re saying Cain is heartless, and you think I don’t care enough yet: Where does that leave you? Still pining over him?”
“Not enough to hang on, obviously.” Her gaze went back to the road
. She merged into the left-hand turn lane at Harbor Boulevard, one car behind Alec. “Listen, the cons outweigh the pros here. I’m a vulnerability that neither of you can afford. And I feel guilty. I hate that.”
Reed’s fingers tapped his thigh. Because he was rock-hard muscle, the flesh was like a solid surface beneath his impatient touch.
You’re gonna notice shit like that, he scoffed, in the same breath that you ‘re saying you don’t want me?
“I didn’t say I don’t want you. I just said this isn’t going anywhere.”
“Quit worrying about where it’s going and focus on where it’s at.”
“I want to focus on staying alive.”
“You need sex to do that. It’s the way Marks are wired.”
“I know.”
The silence that filled the car was heavy enough to block out the cavorting of the trapped tengu.
Reed’s voice came dangerously low, “Oh, hell no.”
She made the turn onto Harbor, then glanced at him. “Excuse me?”
He pulled off his shades and stared at her with hard eyes. “I’ve played this game by your rules. Now you’re telling me the board’s getting put away before I score? Fuck that.”
Eve gaped. “Don’t tell me I owe you a screw.”
“Damn straight. And I’m collecting.”
“That is the most immature, chauvinistic—”
“Yeah, yeah. Save it.”
“Give Sara a booty call if you’re hard up enough to blackmail someone for sex,” she snapped.
“I’ve been celibate for you. You owe me.”
Celibate for her.
Didn’t make up for him being an asshole. “From what I saw, Sara seems to miss your caveman side.”
“So do you.” He slipped his shades back on and crossed his arms. “That’s where I’m blowing it. I should be listening to your body language and not the crap coming out of your mouth. I should toss your ass over the arm of your couch and nail you. Then you’d know this brush-off shit doesn’t work with me.”
“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth.”
Reed held a hand to his ear. “Did you hear that? That was the sound of the gloves coming off.”
“Whatever. Grow up.”
“I wanted you to make the first move. Now. . His heard turned toward the window. “I just want you.
The last was said without the cockiness of the rest. It was softer. Resigned. There was more to his need than the physical. Outwardly, he didn’t show it, but she felt it.
While it wasn’t particularly common for Marks to connect romantically with their handlers, it wasn’t unheard of either. The flow of assignments and field reports between the two created a sense of intimacy that sometimes blossomed into love.
“Even if wanting me is what’s setting me up as a target for Satan?” she asked, hoping to goad him into lowering his mental guards.
“Even if.”
Eve turned her head toward Reed, only to find that he’d left; shifted off to someplace else in the world. That ability to be here one second and gone the next reminded her of superheroes like Superman or Spider-Man.
“But I’m not playing the role of the always- a-hostage love interest’ she insisted aloud. “You hear me?”
If he did, he didn’t answer.
From his position at the head of a massive U-shaped table, Sammael relished the view of Raguel, the most arrogant of all the archangels, kneeling on the stone ground before him with head bent and fingers curled with white-knuckled force. The pure brightness of his brother’s white wings was incongruous compared to the underlying wanness of his coffee- dark skin and the ragged appearance of his woolen shift.
Sarnmael leaned back into his chair with a smile. Pain. So beautiful and effective. Of all of Jehovah’s creations, pain was his favorite. Terror and depression followed a goodly distance behind.
But pain alone would not be enough to break Raguel.
Despite over a month of hellfire burning, there was a lingering elegance to the set of his brother’s shoulders, the sight of which Sammael welcomed. The archangel’s display of his gold-tipped wings was an additional act of rebellion designed to inspire fear in the lessor demons. It inspired amusement in Sammael.
“Are you enjoying your accommodations?” he asked solicitously.
Raguel’s head lifted, his dark eyes revealing a wealth of hatred and fury. He said nothing.
Perfect. There was no room for love of God when the soul was filled with viler emotions.
“Speechless? Ah, well. . . Are you hungry?” Sammael tossed a hunk of meat onto the floor. “It’s quite good.”
His brother’s eyes never left his. No move was made to reach for the sustenance, despite the obvious signs of emaciation. Raguel wouldn’t die of starvation, but he was suffering from it.
Smiling, Sammael raked his gaze over his surroundings. Both the Great Hall and the wooden table that filled it grew in proportion to its occupancy. So while it appeared that every seat was taken, in actuality the space was bereft of the number of minions that usually filled it. He hoped the absent ones were enjoying the lovely Southern California weather. Their vacation would soon be over.
“What do you want?” Raguel’s voice was hoarse from endless days of screaming. He was kept suspended over hellfire in a metal cage, his flesh seared with every flare, then rebuilt by his angelic gifts. Drained by the need for constant healing, he lacked the strength to free himself. Even now he kneeled, not because he deferred to the Prince of Hell, but because his legs would not support him. He’d put too much effort into re-creating those magnificent wings.
Suddenly irritated by that display, Sammael stood. His wings snapped outward, blood red and tipped with black. The demons in attendance roared and raised their.fists. Raguel’s chin lifted. Ever defiant.
“Cain is helming your firm,” Sammael purred, his hands clasped beneath his wings against the small of his back. “Our siblings do not seem to be in any hurry to bargain for you. Perhaps they do not miss you. The Seven is intact without you.”
“I am not concerned.”
“Cain has implemented some changes which have increased productivity and lowered Mark causalities. He has also exposed flaws within the existing system.”
“Is he hitting you where it hurts?” his brother goaded.
Sammael laughed. He began to round the corner to his left, his cloven feet striking the floor in rhythmic clops. The massive ruby chandelier above them followed him as he moved. It was the fate of lessors to live in darkness, except for the light he brought them. “For a time it seemed as if his fascination with Evangeline Hollis had passed, but now he courts her again. What does he see in her? What is it about her that makes him cleave to her as he has not done with any woman since his wife, Awan?”
“I care not.”
“Truly? Now I see why they have abandoned you. You have grown lazy.” He brushed a hand across a succubus’s cheek as he passed by. “After all these years, out of all the females in the world—all the Marks and Infernals, all the nephilim and mortals—he finally recommits to this one unremarkable woman. And you do not ask yourself why?”
Raguel’s jaw tightened.
“I ask why,” Sammael murmured, having no need to raise his voice since no one would dare to speak over or around him. “What distinguishes her? Would you like to know what I have decided?”
“Not especially, no.”
The silence remained unbroken, but the shock of Raguel’s disrespect rippled outward. It would spread like a cancer if allowed.
As Sammael passed a berserker, he touched him. A loving, gentle caress that made the demon smile... before he dissolved into a rancid puddle that splashed over the bench to pooi on the floor. Fear spread through the room and tainted it with an acrid scent.
“I am feeling generous,” Sammael said, smiling, “so I will tell you anyway. I think it is her lack of faith that fascinates him. I think he relates to her agnosticism and finds compelling sim
ilarities between them.”
“Cain is pious,” Raguel bit out.
“Is he? Can he be?”
“Has he not proven so?”
“He is God’s primary enforcer. He kills as often as he breathes. Can such a creature carry love in his soul?”
“His love for Evangeline Hollis proves that to be true.”
“Does he love her? Truly? Or does something more base and raw move him? Perhaps he has a hidden purpose. Or perhaps it is simply an incestuous fondness for her name. Eve. The Temptress. As fresh in my thoughts now as she was the day I met her.”
“I pray her memory festers in your mind like an open sore.”
Sammael’s fists clenched beneath the concealment of his wings. “Cain running a firm. Who could have conceived of him reaching such heights? It must chafe you terribly.”
“Do you have a point, Sammael?”
“I am just conversing, my brother. It has been so long since you and I were last together.”
Raguel flapped his mighty wings, using the resulting updraft to push his worn body to its feet. “I have nothing to say. Send me back to my hell.”
“Say please.”
There was a protracted silence, then a snarled, “Please.”
His brother’s hatred was a writhing, burning thing.
Beautiful.
Pleased with the progressing state of affairs, Sammael sent Raguel back with a snap of his fingers while simultaneously shifting to his receiving room. Azazel appeared a moment later, taking a knee and bowing. Aside from similar height and form, his lieutenant was as different from him as Heaven and Hell. White hair and pale irises showcased skin like ivory, while garments of ice blue and silver emphasized Azazel’s frosty demeanor. He could chill a room with his presence and was most useful in cooling Sammael’s fiery temper.
“My liege,” Azazel murmured.
“What was your impression of Raguel?”
The demon’s gaze lifted. “He is unbroken, but soulweary.”
“Good. Exactly the way I want him. Now, tell me you have news.”
‘The yuki-onna, Harumi-san, betrayed us to Evangeline Hollis. Cain has returned to the field. It will be more difficult to reach her now.”
Sammael smiled. “She has other vulnerabilities.”