by S. J. Day
Eve’s movements slowed, then stopped altogether. He waited, then looked over his shoulder.
Her gaze met his. “You said you think he secured the endorsement he needed with a bargain.”
“I do. Hasn’t he proven that’s the way he works? He bargained with God to mentor you. He bargained with Grimshaw to get to you at the masonry. He bargained to resurrect you after Asmodeus’s dragon killed you. Cain will break any rule, and he’s in demand. Others barter with him to accomplish tasks they’re afraid to do themselves.”
“The way you bargained with Sara to get her guards to help me in Upland?”
Reed froze. How much did she know about that transaction? “Is that what you were digging around for earlier?”
Her gaze lowered. “Did I get it wrong? Did you do it for her?”
He swallowed hard, relieved by her apparent ignorance of his prostitution and terrified by the sudden expectation between them. It felt like a turning point and he wasn’t ready for it yet. Didn’t know how to get ready for it. “Not for her,” he managed, finally.
The grateful kiss she pressed to the wet skin of his biceps made him look away before she saw whatever his face might reveal. She could bring him to his knees with a look. It would be best if she didn’t know that.
She cleared her throat. “It would have to be a seraph who helped your brother, right? They’re the only ones who have the ear of God.”
“Not the only ones, no. The cherubim and thrones are also near Him. But the thrones are humble angels. They lack the ambition to strike a devil’s bargain with Cain.”
Eve held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not in the right frame of mind to have a lesson on the hierarchy of angels.”
“Good’ He gestured at his back and gave her his best smile. “Please?”
As Eve resumed scrubbing, Reed faced forward. “I’m really worried about Gadara,” she murmured. “It’s driving me crazy that everyone seems to have written him off. I want people running around, pushing for answers, hitting the pavement. . . something.”
He nodded.
“I have an idea.”
Reed tensed at Eve’s tone, which held a note of reluctance, as if she knew in advance that what she was going to say would cause an unpleasant reaction. “What?”
“We want Gadara. Satan wants me. Why don’t we offer a trade?”
He froze. His chest lifted and fell in normal rhythm, but his heart raced. It shouldn’t. He wasn’t aroused; he was horrified. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
Facing her, he caught her by the hips. “No fucking way.”
“Come on.” Her gaze was forthright and earnest. “If we put our heads together we can figure out a way to pull it off without one of us getting killed.”
“Helllloooo? Earth to Eve. This is Sammael we’re talking about. Aside from Jehovah, nothing exists that can defeat him.”
Her jaw took on a stubborn cant. “I’m not talking about defeating him. I’m talking about tricking him.”
He shook her. “And what do you think he’s going to do when all is said and done? He’s already set a bounty on your head!”
“If he really wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”
Convoluted logic or not, she had a point. Still, the risk she was willing to take made Reed’s gut churn. “He likes to play with his kills,” he bit out. “That’s all.”
“Just think about it.”
“No”
“It’s the only option we’ve got!”
“Bullshit.” He had a much better trade in mind, but she wasn’t going to like the terms. “It’s not an option at all.”
Eve opened her mouth to argue, but he sealed his lips over hers and shut her up.
“I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Reed offered. “And no, it won’t be Kung Pao chicken.”
Eve finished pulling a T-shirt over her head, then glanced at him. His head was down, his eyes on his belt buckle as he fastened it. Perfectly polished, as usual. She took a good long look at him, appreciating his elegance even more for its artlessness. He hadn’t primped when he exited the shower; didn’t even glance at the mirror. A quick run of his hands through his hair was all that was needed due to the precision of his cut.
This was what she’d once thought her married life would be like. Great sex. Showering together before work. A man she couldn’t get enough of looking at. She was turned on by the dichotomy of Reed’s present composure contrasted against his fervency in bed and the heat with which he’d rejected her suggestion of a trade for Gadara.
Even knowing that he wanted to advance to archangel and lose whatever feelings he had for her, she still wanted him.
Eve sighed. It had been clear from the beginning that she’d never be able to keep either brother. Their purpose was infinite, hers was finite. She didn’t want to hold either of them back and she wasn’t willing to give up her own dreams of normalcy, which meant it was up to her to keep her heart out of it.
Reed was reaching for his watch on the nightstand when he caught her staring. He paused, his previously absorbed expression changing to one of bemusement. He really had no idea what to make of her, and that told her that whatever she was to him, it was unique.
She licked her lower lip and watched his breathing quicken.
“Got a minute?” she asked breathlessly.
His slow smile made her toes curl. “I’ve got all the time you need.”
* * *
“What the hell am I looking at?” Alec asked, straightening from the microscope.
Hank smiled. “The reason for your tengu friend’s doci1e behavior.”
“Explain.”
“The mask suppresses aspects of Infernal genetic makeup, hence the reason for the change in their scent and skin. I just adjusted the spell they used to alter emotions instead. Think of it as Valium for demons.”
“But it requires the same materials?”
“Yes.”
Alec made an aggravated noise. The masking agent had been made with Mark blood and bone. They had a limited stockpile that they’d confiscated from the masomy in Upland, but once it was gone, there was no way to get more aside from killing Marks. “Does it wear off?”
“Don’t know yet, but I would be surprised if it didn’t.” Hank gestured to the right and a sudden light illuminated a kennel that contained the tengu. “I chipped a piece off his heel and ran some tests. The masking agent was mixed with the cement. That might have been the inspiration for the creation of the hell- hounds.”
“But even though the mask was built into the tengu, you could still change its purpose?”
“The materials in the tengu are immutable, but the magic isn’t. The damned creature was a nuisance, so I cast a spell on it and—” Hank pointed at the tengu, “—that’s what happened. So I began playing with the formula to see what variations I could come up with.”
A movement by the cage drew Alec’s gaze. Fred stood to the side, taking notes.
“It’s interesting,” Alec conceded, looking back at Hank. “And Valium for demons could come in handy, but considering the limited quantities of supplies, I don’t see it being viable.”
“It’s the first time anyone has subdued an Infernal’s base nature,” Hank huffed, clearly affronted.
Alec patted her on the shoulder. “Great job. Now… can you make me something I can use? An antidote to the mask? A mask for Marks that uses Infernal ash instead of Mark blood? Something along those lines?”
“Those are not the same lines. They are two very different things.”
“You know what I mean.” Irritation and impatience crawled through him, making him eager to get away. Whatever endorphins his recent orgasms had afforded him were rapidly diminishing. “You’ve had the masking ingredients for months. I expected more from you by this point.”
Fred whistled and sidestepped out of the light.
Hank’s beautiful features hardened. “Go away now, Cain,” she said with dangerous softness
. “Before one of us says or does something that we both regret.”
Knowing that Hank was right, Alec shifted away.
“Hey.”
Sara smiled at the cocky young man who called out to her. As she passed the volleyball court in the open courtyard of Izzie’s apartment complex, he watched her with avid interest. Dressed in only board shorts and a pair of sunglasses, he was handsome enough and boasted a well-muscled physique. She briefly considered dallying with him just for the sport, but the notion quickly soured. His leer told her he lacked the experience to properly satisfy her.
Dismissing him, she climbed the steps to the second floor and knocked. She had to knock again before the door opened and Izzie was revealed. Fresh from a shower and makeup free, the blonde looked impossibly young. Fragile and wary as only a child could be.
Sara pushed her way inside when the door didn’t open fast enough for her. The apartment was expansive and bilevel, with vaulted ceilings and steps up to the open dining area and kitchen, as well as a guest bath and bedroom. The master suite was on the same level as the living room and steam from the shower brought humidity into the lower half of the space.
“What happened to you?” Sarakiel demanded, eyeing the Mark critically.
“Cain.”
“Really? You look worse for wear. Not that I am surprised. Cain is Cain, after all.”
“I am not so sure about that,” Izzie said wearily. Bundled inside a thick terry-cloth robe with wet hair hanging around her shoulders and wan face, she padded over to a red velvet sofa and sat.
Sara joined her. “Tell me.”
When the tale was finished, Sara settled into the crook of the sofa arm and considered the possibilities. “Did Cain give a name to the seraph?”
“No.”
“Can you get it out of him?”
“You don’t understand.” Izzie’s slender fingers played with the loops of cotton. “He was reluctant at first, and later, like a. . . machine. There was nothing in his face. . . in his eyes. Nothing. He spoke in a language I couldn’t understand.”
“Hmm. . . I will see for myself.”
Izzie’s head cocked to the side. “How?”
“There are video feeds all over the tower.”
“He is not the same man I met before. Something isn’t right with him.”
Sara pulled out her cell phone. She tried Abel again, knowing she would only reach his voice mail but needing to make the, attempt regardless. On a whim, she texted a message to Evangeline.
How would the Mark handle the news of Cain’s infidelity? And how far would Cain go to keep the knowledge from her?
A seraph. She hid an inner smile. That limited the scope of her search considerably. Whomever it was, he’d paid a visit to Cain recently enough to spark the ludicrous plan he’d presented to Izzie. Perhaps the meeting had taken place in the tower. While the divine radiance of the seraphim was undetectable to mortal technology such as the video cameras used in Gadara Tower, perhaps Cain had spoken the seraph’s name in the course of their discussion. It was a lead, however faint.
“What do you want me to do now?” Izzie asked.
“Mariel will not assign you once Cain speaks with her, so enjoy some time to yourself.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
Sara brushed the back of her fingers across Izzie’s pale cheek. “You will go far, Iselda.”
The Mark curled deeper into the couch with a weary sigh. “As long as I go to Heaven. Having seen the alternative, I will do whatever it takes to go the other way.”
“Anyone up for tacos?” Eve entered the living room and noted the setting sun just beyond her balcony window. The sky was multihued, telling her that she’d spent hours in bed with Reed. Long enough for Sydney to give up on the Wii and switch to her laptop. Montevista was nowhere to be seen.
“I am.” Sydney snapped her computer closed and stood, stretching. “Montevista went to check on the perimeter guards again.”
“Great. We can catch him downstairs and save him the trip back up.”
Sydney rounded the coffee table. Eve once again marveled at how different the Mark looked in street clothes versus her work attire. Dressed in a dark pink Juicy Couture jogging suit, she didn’t look anywhere near her centuries-old age.
“Are you okay?” Sydney looked her over. “You look sad.”
Eve was taken aback a moment, then realized that while she might not consciously acknowledge her feelings of loss over Alec, that didn’t mean they weren’t visible. “I’m fine.”
And she would be. Eventually. She didn’t regret her afternoon with Reed, even though she’d further complicated her already messy love life.
After grabbing some cash from her purse, Eve followed Sydney out the door and locked the many dead bolts she’d had installed for protection back when she was Unmarked. Then they set off, passing the door to Alec’s condo. He’d made it clear on more than one occasion that he would prefer to be living with Eve and not beside her, but the Hollises were Southern Baptists and shacking up before marriage was a serious no-no in her family. Even the next- door neighbor thing was a little too close for comfort .
The ride down to the lobby level was quick and they moved onto the marble-lined entryway with light steps.
“I’d kill for a place like this,” Sydney said.
“Don’t you?” Eve quipped, glancing at her. “You should check with someone about moving, if you’re not happy where you live.”
“I’m okay. But I could be happier in a place like this,” Sydney smiled. “Not worth it for me to hit up Ishamel about it, though. He freaks me out.”
Frowning, Eve asked, “Who’s Ishamel?” They crossed through the parking garage and exited out a self-locking iron gate. Eve glanced to her left, searching out the corner where Evil Santa missionary usually hung out. He was there and talking to Montevista. Luckily, the nut job was facing away from her, while the Mark looked directly at her.
“Heading to El Gordito,” she said, in her normal conversational tone, knowing his mark-enhanced ears would easily allow him to hear. He gave a surreptitious thumbs-up.
“Ishamel is Gadara’s factotum.”
“The secretary?” The man who kept Gadara’s office running like clockwork was white-haired and slightly stooped at the shoulders, with a penchant for sleeveless sweater vests and bow ties. Whenever Eve crossed his path, she wondered what he could have done to get marked. Since the mark arrested aging, he’d been old from the get-go.
“No, that’s Spencer. He handles everything inside Gadara Tower.” Pushing sunglasses onto her face, Sydney turned toward the beach. “Ishamel is the off- site guy. I’m sure you’ve seen him around. He dresses in gray from head to toe. Rides around in a limousine.
Eve’s stride faltered. Gray Man. She’d met him back when she was a brand-spanking-new Mark. He’d picked her up in a limo and driven her to Gadara Tower. “He’s creepy.”
They hit the sand and turned left. The restaurant was within sight, a casual Mexican cantina with a Plexiglas-framed patio.
Eve considered whether or not it had been a mistake to forget about Ishamel. If he was Gadara’s right-hand man, he would know how archangels functioned. Maybe he could help her figure out what was happening to Alec.
“I get the willies just thinking about his grin,” Sydney went on.
“It’s really more like a constipation-induced grimace.” Eve tried to recall other details about him, but without much luck. “What is he? I don’t remember him smelling like anything—Mark or Infernal—but I was really green at the time.”
“Ishamel is a mal’akh, but not a handler like the others. His sole purpose to make life easier for Gadara, handling all the pesky little details that are beneath an archangel but too important for Marks.”
“Arranging housing is too important for Marks?”
“Moving into more expensive digs would take authorization a mere Mark couldn’t give. Especially in this crappy economy. All the firms are taking
a hit.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Eve’s nose wrinkled. “I hate to admit it, but I guess I’ve come to see the firms as solid, invincible. But you’re right. We’re based in California—the epicenter of the housing market collapse. And Gadara specializes in real estate.”
They reached the patio and took an empty table with an unimpeded view of the beach. Trays and trash littered the surface due to an inconsiderate patron, but they tossed the mess in a nearby trash can and waited for a busboy to wipe the table down with a rag.
Montevista walked up just as the waiter approached.
“Three taco plates, please,” Eve ordered. “Extra pico de gallo and sour cream.” She looked at her companions. “What are you having?”
Sydney laughed. “I had no idea interior design worked up such an appetite.”
Eve was grateful the mark prevented blushing.
After the orders were in, drinks were on the table, and they were relatively alone, Montevista leaned back in his plastic patio chair and said, “The reverend on the corner is really gunning for you, Hollis.”
“Reverend?”
Montevista smiled. “Presbyterian.”
Eve reached for her iced tea. “He’s a whack job. Zealots like that should be marked. They’re clearly devoted. If the seraphim sent enough of them after Satan, he’d give up quick.”
“He thinks you’re a call girl.”
“What the hell?”
“Because of the number of men you have visiting
“Maybe I’m holding Bible study. Did he ever think of that?”
Montevista’s eyes twinkled behind his dark shades. “He says you have a body built for sin.”
“Gee, thanks. Did you straighten him out?”
“I fought the good fight, but he says I’m bewitched. I don’t think anyone short of God will get him to change his mind.”
“Great.” Eve crossed her arms.
Sydney smiled. “Hey, look on the bright side. I wish someone said I had a body built for sin.”
“You do have a body built for sin,” Montevista said with a soft purr that made Eve look twice.