Eve of Chaos

by S. J. Day

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

  “Abel.”

  They both turned their heads to see Sara approaching. Eve ducked into the car while Reed was distracted, and hit the button for the lobby.

  “Hey.”, He caught the door before it closed. “What the hell?”

  Eve pushed his hand out of the way. “Your brother isn’t expendable to me, Reed.”

  He stared at her with a hard gaze until the doors shut.

  Once she reached the lobby, she switched elevators to catch the one that would take her up to her office on the forty-fifth floor. The number of Marks in the tower was declining steadily as the workday winded down, allowing the sickly sweet scent of their souls to settle down to a manageable level.

  As Eve entered the reception area, Candace stood and offered a slight wave. Eve smiled in greeting.

  “Ishamel said he’d be here at four-thirty,” the secretary reported, rounding her desk with message pad in hand.

  “Perfect.” Eve headed toward her office.

  “You have an e-mail from your sister, and also one from Sarakiel that’s marked urgent.”

  Eve paused and Candace almost ran into her from behind. “If it’s urgent, why didn’t she just call and tell me? She’s got my number.”

  “There’s an attachment, so that might be why. Want something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. You can go home now.”

  Eve went to her desk and sat before her computer. She accessed her e-mail and read her sister Sophia’s note first. Pictures of Eve’s niece and nephew filled the screen and caused her a pang of envy. She was the eldest, but Sophia was years ahead of her when it came to settling down. And as long as Eve had the mark, she would remain behind. Marks were sterile.

  She typed out a quick “as soon as I can” reply to Sophie’s query about when she’d be coming to visit. Then, she reclined into her chair and took a moment to push past unwelcome feelings of resentment.

  As she often did at times like these, she glanced around her office, taking in the mixture of traditional modern and Asian-inspired bamboo pieces that made up the decor. Most of the furnishings had been moved from her previous, much smaller office at the Wiesenberg Group. Part of the effort to blend her old life with her new. That’s what she remembered when she felt down—that she’d been allowed to blend her two lives together. None of the other Marks were so lucky.

  Refocused, she straightened and clicked open Sara’s e-mail. The name of the attachment that came with it gave her pause, since it was clearly a recording of a video feed from “CainOffice” made yesterday. Had Sara become aware of Alec’s problems? How much danger was he in if she had?

  Eve double-clicked on the video and waited for it to load.

  Once the replay began, it took her a minute to comprehend what she was watching. It took a bit longer to break the stillness caused by horror, freeing her to kick the computer’s power cord out of the outlet in the floor. The monitor turned black and the computer’s cooling fan stopped, leaving behind an empty silence.

  Breathing in and out deliberately, Eve leaned into her desk and tried to forget what she’d seen.

  “T-that wasn’t Alec,” she told herself. “That wasn’t him. You know it.”

  It’s ugly and painful, but we have something worth fighting for...

  He meant to tell her. She knew it. Lay it all out there and hope she’d understand. But she was still jealous and pissed off.

  Standing, Eve began to pace. Her emotions wanted an outlet and there wasn’t one. From the expression on Alec’s face, he had been as much of a victim as Izzie. Whatever comeuppance the German bitch deserved for making a play at another woman’s man had been served during the act.

  Which left only Sara.

  Eve stopped at the window and leaned against the console positioned in front of it. What the hell had the archangel hoped to gain by sending that video to her? Sara wanted her away from Reed, so why send her something that was troubling enough to push her right into his arms? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right? Sara had to know that if Eve was pissed at Alec, the best way to pay him back in kind was to hookup with Reed.

  “What do you want, Sara?” Eve wondered aloud, her fingers digging into lip of the console. “What do you stand to gain?”

  Hell hath no fury—

  Her eyes widened, her mind jumping to the conversation she’d had with Mariel.

  “Are you ready to go, Ms. Hollis?”

  Turning her attention to the door, she found Ishamel standing there.

  “What are you to Raguel Gadara?” she asked, straightening.

  His gray brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re his lieutenant, right? His right-hand man?”

  “Something like that.”,

  Eve nodded. “Is it just a job to you, or do you genuinely care about him?”

  There was a slight hesitation, then, “Raguel is a friend to me.”

  “Is. Present tense.” She stopped in front of him. “You think he’s alive, too?”

  He gave a brief nod.

  “Do you have access to everything? Can you authorize investigations?”

  “What do you want, Ms. Hollis?”

  She caught his arm and directed him toward the door. “Call me Eve, please. And don’t shift us downstairs. Makes me dizzy. Let’s do things the mortal way, if you don’t mind.”

  Again, the terse nod of his head.

  “Now,” she continued, “I don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but I want Gadara back, too.”

  They moved out to the hallway and turned toward the elevators.

  “And how do you plan to get him back. . . Eve?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  Ishamel stared at her intensely the entire length of the descent to the lobby level. Despite her determination, it still made her squirm. He had the eyes of a shark. Dark and dead.

  They exited to the circular driveway. Idling near the center fountain, the requisite limousine waited. At least it was requisite for Ishamel. Eve was more interested in Reed’s Lamborghini, which he’d arrogantly left parked directly in front of the entrance. The convertible was a silver beauty, as sleek and dangerous as its owner. She pictured him driving over from his meeting with the demons at Downtown Disney and her jaw clenched. Instead of shifting from location to location, he’d used the car for effect. Maybe as a way to humanize himself, to seem at ease and unconcerned when meeting with a king of Hell. Bravado was a necessary tool of the trade when dealing with demons.

  She glanced at the valet booth and pointed to the Lamborghini. “Do you have the keys for this?”

  One of the three valets nodded but looked wary. Ishamel snapped his fingers and the valet kicked into gear, ducking inside the booth to pull keys off one of the many hooks on the wall. He ran over to them and Eve held out her hand.

  “Thanks.”, she said when he dropped the key ring into her palm.

  She pulled open the passenger door for Ishamel before running around to the driver’s side. Sliding behind the wheel, she adjusted the seat forward, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

  “Wish I hadn’t left my sunglasses at home.”, she murmured, half afraid to borrow Reed’s car without permission. He might find it amusing, or he might be furious.

  Ishamel held his hand out and she found her sunglasses clasped between his fingers. With a wry smile, she accepted them. It sure would be handy to be able to shift anywhere and back in the blink of an eye. She pushed the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. It roared to life, then purred deliciously.

  “Seat belt,” she said, while securing her own.

  Then they were off, gliding around the center fountain and exiting onto Harbor Boulevard. The police station was on the same street just a few miles down. Eve told herself that Reed shouldn’t get too pissy, since she was just taking a straight shot up the road.

  “What do you need from me?” Ishamel asked. “Can
you. . .“ She hesitated, then glanced over at him. “Would you be open to spying on an archangel? Do you have people who’d be capable and willing to do it?”

  “Cain?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and hoped that she wasn’t screwing herself royally. “Sarakiel.”

  “Ah. . .“ In the periphery of her vision, she saw his fingertips drum silently on the seat. “And you need this information for use in retrieving Raguel? Are you certain you don’t have personal considerations?”

  “You don’t have to tell me what you find,” she said. “Just look into it and if something strikes you as off, deal with it as you see fit.”

  “An odd request,” he murmured.

  “Trust me, if you find what I suspect you might, there won’t be any doubt that it isn’t personal.”

  He didn’t say anything. Eve hoped that he was thinking it over.

  A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the police station and she slid the car into a diagonal space that had empty spots on either side. She didn’t want to have to explain a door ding to Reed on top of the grand-theft auto.

  They entered the station and shortly after, Ingram joined them from somewhere in the back. He led them to a room with a beat-up table and a large two-way mirror. A form and a pen waited there. He directed her to sit and give her statement regarding what she remembered in as much detail as possible.

  Eve sat and began to write. Ishamel moved to the far corner and sat in a chair with his eyes closed. He looked as if he was napping, but she suspected he was sending orders to whoever fell under his purview.

  She was halfway through her second page when the door opened. The stench of Infernal assaulted her nose and her head snapped up. A uniformed officer entered the room with a bottle of water in his hand. She watched, wide-eyed, as he set it on the table. His mouth curved in a malevolent smile. His detail crawled up from beneath his shirt, coming to rest over his Adam’s apple. It was an insignificant design as suited a lesser demon.

  “Thought you might like something to drink,” the demon said in a friendly voice designed to fool those who might be watching through the glass. Eve got a different show from the front. His lip curled back, revealing the pointed canines of a vampire. “Holler if you’d like anything else. There are plenty of us out there.”

  Sitting back slowly, she glanced at Ishamel. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were open. The Infernal didn’t pay him any mind. Eve didn’t know if that was because he was stupid and couldn’t pick out a celestial without a Mark’s scent, or if he was so cocky he didn’t view a mal‘akh as a threat.

  “Thanks,” she said aloud. Then, she spoke through her smile. “The bounty’s over.”

  “I ain’t heard that.”, he hissed back. “Lying bitch.” The Infernal departed, but his stench lingered, capping off what had been a brief but crappy day. She set her pen down.

  Either the demon was seriously out of the loop, or Sammael had reneged on his end of the deal. She wished she knew which one was true.

  “We should go,” Ishamel said. His lips moved without sound, Before too many of his friends arrive.

  I’ll finish this later Eve wrote a quick “to be continued. . .“ on the page, then stood.

  Ingram was at the door the moment she opened it. “Are you done? Before you leave, I’d like to go over your statement with you.”

  “No, not done yet,” she said, glancing to the left and right, highly conscious of the number of eyes watching her.

  It wasn’t safe for her to be out anywhere with a price tag stapled to her forehead. Not that she could tell Ingram that. What could be safer than a police station, right?

  “We need that report, Ms. Hollis,” he said sternly, his mustache twitching in a way that hinted at impatience. “It’s vital to our getting a clear picture of what happened.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would take this long.” She touched his arm, but pulled back when he tensed. “I borrowed my friend’s car—since you have mine— and I have to get it back to him.”

  “It’s only been thirty minutes,” he pointed out.

  “My client is very busy,” Ishamel said smoothly.

  “Can you come by the tower for the rest?” Eve asked, regretting that she was taking up the detectives’ precious time. They should be working on crimes they could solve, not dicking around with her. “Do I have to fill it out here?”

  He frowned.

  Jones appeared behind him. Shorter and lighter than his partner, he’d approached stealthily. “I’ll give you a call in the morning and set up a time.”

  “Good. Thanks.” Eve shook both their hands quickly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Ishamel caught her arm and steered her toward the door. “When we get outside the front doors, I’ll shift us back to the tower.”

  “I can’t leave another car behind. You’ll have to come back and get it.”

  “I don’t drive. Abel will have to do it.”

  “You don’t—”

  They’d barely put their hands on the handle of the double doors, when they were ambushed. Bold as you please. Shoved outside with hurricane force.

  Ishamel sailed into the landscaping on the right side of the door. Eve was sent spinning like a top on the ball of one foot, making a few revolutions before she stumbled to halt.

  “Ms. Hollis.”

  She looked at the door and saw Jones standing on the threshold, holding it open. She brushed flyaway tendrils of hair back from her face. “Yes?”

  He looked around her. She did, too, trying to see where Ishamel might have gone. The only evidence of the tackle was some broken branches on one of the bushes and some fine ash that bore witness to the death of an Infernal. The mal’akh himself was gone, most likely shifted away to avoid being seen.

  “Where did your lawyer go?” the detective asked.

  “Bathroom.”

  Jones frowned, but nodded. “I was wondering. The car you borrowed. . .“ He looked beyond her to the parking lot and whistled. “It is the Lamborghini.”

  “Ub.. . yes.”

  “Mind if I check it out?”

  “Uh. . .“ Shit. Her gaze darted around the lot again. It looked peaceful enough, but she didn’t want to risk the cop, too. Infernals had already proven that they’d take anyone, anywhere, anytime.

  The door opened again and Ishamel stepped out, looking none the worse for wear. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jones was already walking toward Reed’s car. Eve rushed to catch up. Ishamel followed at a more discreet pace.

  It would be safer to shift, the mal‘akh said. But it appears we have no choice.

  She disengaged the car locks and alarm with the remote, and Jones opened the driver’s-side door. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “No scissor doors?”

  Eve gave a clueless shrug.

  The detective stood in the V of the open door and looked at the interior. With the top down, he had an unobstructed view. She glanced at Ishamel, who stood guard on the other side. The feel of Infernal eyes was strong.

  If they could just get in the car…

  “Very nice,” Jones said. “How does it drive?”

  “Like a dream,” she said, with a smile that felt strained. “Detective, I’m sorry. I really do have to run.”

  “Right.” He backed out of the way. “I’ll give your office a call tomorrow.”

  “Great.”

  Eve hopped into the car and got it started. Ishamel waited until she put the transmission in reverse before climbing in beside her.

  Jones stood nearby, watching them with an eagle eye. The detective didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.

  Backing out of the spot, she hit the road.

  It was hard driving while trying to keep an eye on any possible threats. Eve relaxed slightly when they reached the intersection of Katella and Harbor, feeling somewhat safer in a crowd. The sidewalks were clogged with tourists and business-attired pedestrians leaving the convention c
enter. The excited screams of riders on the various California Adventure amusement park attractions competed with the thumping bass of a nearby car radio. There was a tiny souvenir shop next to the 7-Eleven on the corner; its wares spilling over into its equally tiny parking lot. Customers picked through racks of Disney- and California-themed T-shirts, while a postcard display stand reminded Eve of unfinished business.

  “Would you investigate a postcard I received right after I was marked?” she asked, returning her attention to the road. “It came from Gadara Enterprises, so someone there has to be responsible for it.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  The tower was only a short distance away but from the looks of things, Eve was pretty sure Ishamel had already called in reinforcements. There seemed to be an inordinate number of white Chevrolet Suburbans around them.

  “Well, for starters,” she said, “who sent it. I want to ask them why.”

  A police car flashed its lights and chirped its sirens until it maneuvered into position directly behind her.

  “Jesus,” she breathed, wincing at the burn of her mark. “Is he trying to pull me over?”

  Ishamel looked over his shoulder. “I sent it.”

  “What? Why?” She eyed the cop through the rearview mirror. The Infernal revved his engine and grinned beneath his shades. The vamp again. Her hands fisted on the wheel.

  The Lamborghini was at the light, first one on the line, but in the middle of the multilane road. She was stuck until the signal changed.

  “Divine compulsion, perhaps?” Ishamel replied. “I saw the postcard on Raguel’s desk and thought it might pique your interest. The building wasn’t done and it needed a designer.”

  “If you’re trying to say that it had nothing to do with turning me into a Mark, I don’t believe you.”

  He looked at her, then resumed staring at the squad car behind them. “It had everything to do with the Change. You were agnostic. Appealing to your secular talents was a substitution for appealing to your faith, which is why Raguel scheduled a job interview with you. The postcard was meant to be a follow-up, an added lure. But Raguel was called away and Abel was. . . impatient. You were marked before it reached you.”