Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  Fear brought my chin up, my gaze finding the red, angry eyes of the female Demon easily.

  Lexi was pissed. “You wanna fight, Little One?”

  She moved with lightning speed toward me, her pointed teeth and newly expelled claws shining in the overhead light. Terror paralyzed me.

  Conor shoved himself in front of me, and I grabbed his shirt desperately. I didn’t want him protecting me! I wanted him out of danger! I pushed at him, but he wouldn’t budge.

  Lexi snarled as I quit fighting Conor and braced for impact, but something stopped her midflight and she bounced onto the floor.

  “Want to calm this down a notch, girls?” Marcas said calmly from the spot he’d been in since we’d gotten there. His hand was raised.

  Lexi bared her fangs, his interference feeding her anger. “What the hell are you going to do with her?” she growled.

  Marcas pushed away from the wall and slowly moved between us. “Kill her if I can, save her if I have to.”

  Chapter 25

  There is danger coming for them both. Lilith is angry, but she bides her time. Her son must know this. He is an unusual creature. For while he is as much Demon as he is man, there is rumor that he once fought his own kind and almost gave up his soul.

  ~Bezaliel~

  Thirty minutes later, I still wasn’t feeling the calm. Marcas had stopped Lexi from attacking me, but he couldn’t turn my thoughts off. Had the light that shot out at her been because of me?

  “She’s giving me the creeps,” Monroe whispered from beside me.

  We’d moved to the back of the room, and I glanced next to me warily. Alexis peered at me from a stool against the bar. She didn’t sit; she leaned in a position that gave everyone in the room a wonderful view of her cleavage. If I was supposed to be impressed, the effect fell short. Her skin tight leopard print skirt and solid black v-neck top suddenly undulated as she shifted, and I fought not to roll my eyes.

  “You smell nice, Angel. I’ve never had Nephilim blood before,” Lexi snarled.

  I threw her my best "fuck you" stare. “Being bound to one Demon is enough, thank you,” I snarled back.

  Lexi stiffened, her smile tight. “Marcas is more Demon than you can handle, princess.”

  She lifted a leg onto the stool, and I looked away so I wouldn’t have to see what color her panties were.

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to be handling him,” I mumbled irritably.

  I wanted nothing to do with Marcas beyond getting unbound, and he made no secret that he felt the same way.

  Lexi moved closer, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t stand the hatred I knew I’d see in her eyes. I had enough of that in my life at the moment.

  “Our mother has plans for him, you know,” Lexi said unexpectedly.

  Startled, I looked up to find myself facing a mirror positioned just behind the bar. A reflection of the female Demon looked back at me.

  “Am I supposed to care what your mother wants?” I asked.

  Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She smiled, her fangs flashing. I was getting sick of sharp teeth.

  “He’s one of her oldest children, he’s the first of her sons with Cain, and he’s incredibly powerful. He and Damon have been groomed for great things. Lilith won’t let you get in the way of that. I’m amazed Marcas has chosen to protect you."

  My gaze left her reflection only to discover Marcas’s figure in the mirror as well. He was across the room talking on a cell phone. I watched him curiously. Why was he protecting me?

  “So he’s being prepped to do incredible evil? Wow, that’s comforting,” Monroe huffed from next to me.

  Lexi faced her. “If that’s what you want to call it, mortal. But, I warn you, Lilith is not the type of Demon you want to fool with." Her tone was harsh, threatening.

  I saw Marcas look up from his cell phone conversation and our eyes met in the glass. My body suddenly felt way too warm.

  “I think we should rest while we can,” I suggested to Monroe. My gaze stayed locked on Marcas’.

  “Human weaknesses,” Lexi said derisively.

  I didn’t care what she thought. We had our limits and if we weren’t aware of them, then we were only hurting ourselves. Conor and Luther stepped up next to Marcas, but he didn’t break eye contact with me. Luther followed Marcas’ gaze, and I saw his eyes narrow.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Monroe said wearily.

  Conor glanced up into the mirror and then, and only then, did I look away. It killed me to do so. It proved that Conor was a weakness for me.

  “There are some rooms with clothes and toiletries in it if you’re ready to make use of them,” Luther said suddenly from behind us.

  It startled me and I jumped. It was amazing how fast these Demons could move. Why it surprised me was beyond me. They were demons, they could fly, and they could sprout all kinds of malicious animal characteristics. Gravity didn’t pertain to them.

  I turned to face Luther. “We are.”

  I could tell by his expression that he’d heard a good deal of our conversation with his sister. Either that or Lexi was sharing thoughts. It didn’t seem impossible, but I knew some human twins who could do it. I suspected the same of Marcas and Damon.

  “Where did the clothes come from?” I asked Luther suspiciously.

  He glanced at his sister. “I volunteered some items from my closet for Mr. Reinhardt and my sister has done the same for you and your friend."

  I cringed and Monroe moaned. Great. We were going to be in Italy dressed like vixens. James Bond would be proud.

  “Her clothes aren’t going to fit me,” I pointed out quickly. I was, by far, the shortest person in the room by a good foot. Not to mention, I had the flattest chest out of the three females present.

  Luther didn’t seem concerned. “We’ll make it work.” He stood back and held his hand out toward us politely. “Ladies. After you.” He bowed.

  Monroe and I shared an amused look.

  “Would you be Darcy or Mr. Bingley?” I asked Luther in a faux British accent as we moved in front of him.

  His only response was to point at the side of the room. We followed his direction.

  “Not an Austen fan, I presume,” Monroe whispered. I hid a smile.

  Luther led us through the door we’d seen Lexi enter from earlier and we found ourselves in a hallway that branched off into several intimate living chambers. The first one we came to was wide, with a large canopied bed on a raised dais and a black sofa and chair against the wall. The floor was stone but had strategically placed throw rugs that complimented the furniture and bed. A vanity was positioned near a large stone fireplace and a wooden door stood open to a bathroom filled with white and black marble tile. I didn’t have to glance behind me to see the look of admiration I knew was on Monroe’s face. She adored those two colors.

  “You’ll rest here, Ms. Blainey,” Luther said with a smile as he motioned for Conor and Monroe to follow him farther down the hall.

  I wanted to protest, but I just watched them walk away instead. What was the point? Luther closed the door behind him, and I walked over to the bed. There was a black robe thrown over the rust colored comforter, and I picked it up before moving into the bathroom

  Closing the door, I faced the mirror. Tired eyes met mine. My face looked pale beneath the bright bathroom light, and my red hair had mostly escaped the pony tail I’d had it in to frame my face wildly. It was not a pleasant sight.

  I stripped down quickly and moved to the tub. The water felt delicious against my sore body, and I soaked for what felt like an eternity. It was only when the water turned cold that I finally washed my hair and climbed out reluctantly. I dried off and pulled on the robe.

  “What now?” I muttered as I belted the dressing gown and moved back into the bedroom.

  “Do you always talk to yourself, Blainey?” his voice asked suddenly, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Marcas!

  “What the hell!” I yelled.
r />   My gaze moved to his where he leaned on the bed post some feet away, and I crossed my arms over my chest. What was it about the men in my life and them showing up out of nowhere? We needed ground rules.

  I frowned. “Do you have any sense of propriety?”

  He pushed away from the bed and held up a rose-colored cascade cardigan and blue jeans. I noticed he left undergarments lying on the mattress. “These should fit you better than Lexi’s attire.”

  I searched his gaze but there was no emotion there. “Who did they belong to?”

  I moved in just close enough to take the outfit from his hands. He didn’t answer me. I moved away from him. Silence filled the room, and I looked down uneasily at the robe. What did we do now that we were in Italy? Where did Marcas and I stand? I knew some from the conversation I’d overheard on the plane, but there were still questions.

  I looked up. “What do we do next?”

  The fact that I was only wearing a robe was beginning to bother me. Marcas didn’t seem to notice.

  “I need to know what you have planned for me,” I whispered.

  If he was going to appear in my guest room without an invite, then I was determined to ask questions he probably didn’t care to answer.

  Marcas’ gaze found mine, and the intensity I saw there startled me. “We find the ring,” he answered shortly.

  The Tolkien feeling I’d felt on the plane returned. “The ring?”

  He moved to lean against the bed again, and I sat on a sofa a good distance away. Proximity to Marcas made me feel strange.

  “It’s called the Seal of Solomon. It is a ring believed to have once belonged to the legendary Biblical king Solomon. It gave him special powers that strengthened his kingdom, most notably the ability to speak to animals and the ability to enslave Demons,” Marcas explained.

  I crossed my legs to keep my robe together. I wished he’d give me some time to dress.

  My gaze shot enviously to the clothes he’d brought me before I layed them aside, my eyes returning to his face. “And this Seal of Solomon is supposed to help us?”

  Marcas held my gaze. “There’s a chance it may.”

  “How?”

  “By letting you enslave me,” he answered.

  My eyes widened, shock coursing through my blood. “What?”

  Marcas’ muscles bulgeed as he shifted. “By wearing the ring, you would not only be able to trap me but your body would purge the Demon blood inside your system. The plan is to release yourself, and then let me go free,” he answered calmly.

  I stared. I wasn’t feeling calm. Was he serious? The thought of entrapping the man before me was tempting, but I honestly had no desire to control anyone. And he didn’t know me. He didn’t know me at all.

  “And you trust me enough to do that? You don’t know me. Not really,” I whispered.

  Marcas pushed away from the bed and moved down toward the door. Maybe it was an attempt to put more space between us. The air was so thick with tension, I found it hard to swallow.

  “I knew of your father, and I watched you some as a child,” he said suddenly.

  I stood, my robe forgotten. What was he saying? “I don’t understand.”

  “I was sent to watch you once.”

  “When?”

  His tone was harsh when he spoke. “The funeral. When Bezaliel left you unprotected.”

  Marcas’ eyes glowed red. I had a flashback suddenly of me at ten sitting in a car watching the red eyes of a man in shadow as we drove away from my parents’ graves. Marcas?

  “That wasn’t Damon?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “I was sent to kill you,” Marcas revealed.

  My blood ran cold. I had been a target even then? By Marcas? I walked toward him from across the room. My heart felt battered. The main scar belonged to my father. He’d left me. And, according to Marcas, left me unprotected. I wanted so badly to know why. And now … now I discover that Marcas had a chance to kill me once, but he must have failed. I was still here.

  “And you didn’t succeed?” I asked.

  Marcas’ gaze followed me as I moved. I paused a few feet away from him.

  “I didn’t try. It was a mission for my mother after Damon revealed his intention of using the Naphil child of Bezaliel for his own twisted purposes.”

  I remembered the vision I’d had of Damon stabbing him. It all made sense now. The whole damn series of events fell into place. Damon stabbing Marcas and talking about redemption, my father leaving and my mother dying, Marcas being sent to destroy me, the Abbey, Damon … now.

  “Then you knew this would happen?” I asked.

  “I knew my brother planned to use you for his purposes. I didn’t expect him to bind you to me. That’s where I underestimated him.”

  “Why not Amber?” I asked.

  Marcas turned away from me, and I stared at him hard. Something he’d just said suddenly made its way past my confusion, and I clutched my stomach. "It was a mission for my mother after Damon revealed his intention of using the Naphil child of Bezaliel for his own twisted purposes" No!

  “Because Amber isn’t Bezaliel’s," Marcas said.

  The statement sunk into my bones with a jarring awareness. No! My whole body went cold and I cried out without meaning to. My sister? I didn’t understand. Marcas had told me she and I were the only two non-monstrous Nephilim left on earth. What was he telling me now? That it was all a lie?

  “Of course she is,” I argued mostly to myself. Even Amber believed she was part Angel. My aunt believed it. Didn’t Damon believe it too? Or had he said that to convince my aunt to become involved with his scheme? I didn’t want to be the only anomaly. I was lonely enough.

  “My sister?” I sobbed.

  Marcas turned to face me again. “Is still your sister, but she isn’t Bezaliel’s.”

  He made no attempt to comfort me.

  I felt faint. “How?”

  Why hadn’t he told me this before? Was he afraid I wouldn’t have come with him if I’d known? Would I have come? I had come with Marcas partly to protect Amber so she wouldn’t have to be used for Damon’s nefarious purpose. Had there been any point? Of course there had been! Damon would have still used her to get to me. I had seen enough movies and read enough books to know the bad guys always used leverage.

  "How?" I repeated, a mad sort of calmness settling over me.

  “Have you ever heard the Greek myths of the gods who took on a familiar human persona in order to lay with mortal women?” Marcas asked. I nodded. “Daniel was the man originally married to your mother. He was of the pure line of Seth. Together they had Amber. A month after Amber was born, her father was killed in a hunting accident. Bezaliel had been watching your mother for some time. He’d run into her once as a teenager, and he’d been fascinated ever since. It was said she was a remarkable woman. He loved her from afar. Lusted after her. When he saw Daniel die, he took the opportunity he’d been waiting for, assuming Daniel’s appearance and returning home to your mother. But your mother was a smart woman, and she knew something was different. She confronted Bezaliel. He confessed what happened. She grieved; he stayed with her. Together, he helped her through the passing of her husband, and she agreed to lay with him. You were the result. Your mother and Bezaliel were an unusual pair, but they made what they were work. Unfortunately, there were higher powers involved and there was no way of denying your birthright. Bezaliel had no intention of leaving you, but when it was discovered a normal Naphil baby was born you were put in danger. Your mother was murdered and your father was ordered away from you.”

  My body swayed toward Marcas. “My mother was killed because of me?” Tears trickled down my cheek. I had been the cause of her death. Me. The grief was overwhelming.

  “You were only a baby, Blainey. Your mother knew when you were born what she was doing. She knew when she discovered that she was pregnant that there were risks. She took them anyway. You may have been the reason you
r mother was sought out, but you didn’t kill her,” Marcas said gently.

  I looked up at him. For the first time, I was sure I heard compassion in his voice. His eyes locked with mine. He was suddenly closer. I wasn’t sure which one of us took the step forward.

  “I’m the only one? There’s no one else like me?” I asked. I knew the answer, but the need to ask was still there.

  “The only sane one,” Marcas answered.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. The pain felt good, and it kept the worst of my inner turmoil at bay. Marcas’ eyes turned stormy.

  “Does my sister know the truth?” I whispered.

  “No. And neither does your aunt or her Order.”

  So Damon had fooled them. The silent conversation between Marcas and Damon at the Abbey made sense now. "You lied to them."

  I looked at Marcas. From what I’d witnessed so far with Marcas, Damon, Lexi, and Luther, I knew Demons could communicate with their twins. Was Marcas communicating with Damon now? I pushed the thought away.

  “How do you know for sure I’m his? I don’t look like an Angel,” I asked desperately.

  Couldn’t they be wrong about all of this?

  I went on my tiptoes, putting Marcas a few inches away from my face. “Could you be wrong about me?”

  His eyes stared into mine. “No, you are more Angel than you are aware, Blainey. You saw the light you threw at Alexis."

  I exhaled. “That was me, then?”

  “It was.”

  My gaze searched his. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” I whispered.

  Marcas’ eyes narrowed. “Ask me that again one day, Blainey. But not today."

  His expression was unreadable..

  “And you think the ring will work?” I asked.

  Marcas nodded. “I think it may. But it’s never been tried before and there are dangers.”

  “Dangers?”

  “Wearing the ring should purge the Demon blood from your system, but there’s no way to know how violent the illness could be or how it would happen. It could kill you and permanently enslave me,” he answered simply. There was no emotion in his tone. I didn’t understand him. The thought of dying terrified me. It could kill me?