Eve of Darkness

by S. J. Day

  Eve’s stomach growled its assent. “Lately, I’m always hungry.”

  “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

  “Mom!” Her protest was weak, her startled gaze moving to Alec. She’d missed taking her birth control pills for a week while she acclimated to the mark, and they’d burned up the sheets for hours . . .

  Alec’s jaw clenched. He gave a curt shake of his head. But how could he be sure?

  It wasn’t a question she could ask now.

  “Unless you’re a nun or sterile,” her mother said, “it’s possible.”

  Eve went to the kitchen. Decades of work as a registered nurse had made Miyoko brutally blunt when it came to discussing health matters. Setting her mail on the counter, Eve grabbed a soda from the fridge and wished a shot of rum would be worth the effort of pouring. Then she thought of babies and the effect of alcohol on them. She returned the soda to the fridge and grabbed a single-serving orange juice instead.

  “Don’t leave those letters there,” her mother said, dropping the laundry on the couch before joining Eve in the kitchen.

  “It’s my house, Mom,” Eve retorted, twisting the cap open and drinking deeply.

  “Who cleans it?”

  “Who asked you to? I keep my house clean, and I’m an adult. Don’t act like I can’t survive without you.”

  Miyoko’s face turned into a mask. “I know you don’t need me. You never have.”

  Alec walked into the kitchen. “How about I make some sandwiches?” he offered.

  “I made onigiri,” her mother said tightly.

  “Wonderful.” Alec set his hand on the curve of Eve’s waist. His voice was low and even in an attempt to soothe ruffled feathers. “I love onigiri.”

  So did Eve, which is probably why her mother had made the little rice “balls” to begin with. Steamed rice flavored with various sprinkled seasonings called furikake were shaped into triangular patties. Eve had grown up on them, and they’d always been a relished treat.

  Closing her eyes, Eve exhaled slowly. She hated feeling defensive around her mother. After all these years, she should be able to brush off the occasional pointing out of her shortcomings, but her mother had always been able to trigger volatile responses in her. One moment condescending and critical, the next cheerful and praising. Eve knew their chafing was due partly to culture clash. Her mother had come to the States in her midtwenties and she returned to Japan for annual visits. While she was a naturalized American citizen now, Miyoko was still a Japanese woman at her core.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Eve said, setting her drink down and leaning heavily into the counter. Not for the first time, she made a small wish for a smoother relationship with her own children when she had them. “I’m having a really bad day. I appreciate everything you do.”

  Her mother stood there for the length of several heartbeats, her small frame tense with indignation and hurt. “Does your crabby mood have something to do with your new job?”

  “How did you know about that?” Eve was superstitious—she didn’t like to share anything good that wasn’t a sure thing.

  “I’m your mother. I know things.”

  Eve groaned inwardly.

  “Someone stopped by while we were gone?” Alec asked, reaching into the container on the counter and pulling out a rice cake liberally sprinkled with beefsteak furikake. He handed it to Eve, then picked out another wrapped in seasoned nori—seaweed—for himself.

  “Yes. Two young men. They left a briefcase and a box for you.”

  Straightening, Eve asked, “Where is it?”

  “I put it in your office.”

  “Did they say anything?”

  “They were very nice.” Miyoko managed a smile. “I made some coffee, and they talked a little about Mr. Gadara’s accomplishments. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you.”

  Eve shivered at the thought of Gadara’s men around her mother, charming and impressing her. Winning her over. Snakes in the grass.

  “So it that why you’re grumpy?” her mother repeated. “Changing jobs is one of the most stressful events a person can go through. You need to take more vitamin B.”

  “That’s part of it.” All of it. She glanced at Alec, who eyed her orange juice with odd intensity.

  “You didn’t tell me you were thinking about quitting.” Miyoko’s tone was peeved.

  “I didn’t want to jinx it. Working for Gadara Enterprises is a monster leap, and I wasn’t sure I would make it. Besides, I only had an interview.”

  “And it turned into an offer?” Her mother wiped the spotless counter with a dishtowel. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re beautiful and smart. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  Eve’s irritation fled completely. “Thank you.”

  Miyoko shrugged. “It’s the truth. Is he Jewish? Or Middle Eastern?”

  “Gadara? He’s African-American. Why?”

  “His name. It’s in the Bible.”

  “It is?” She glanced at Alec, who was reaching for another onigiri.

  “Gadara is the place where Christ turned demons into swine,” he explained before taking a bite.

  “Did he pick that himself?”

  “Who picks their own name?” Miyoko shook her head. “Aside from celebrities. Anyway, I’m going to finish the laundry and go home.”

  “Is Dad coming back today?”

  “Tomorrow, but there are things I have to do.”

  Eve sighed, feeling terrible for having hurt her mother’s feelings. “I wish you would stay.”

  “You have a guest. You don’t need me.”

  “I don’t have to need you to want you around, Mom.”

  “Not today.” Miyoko rounded the island the opposite way and returned to the living room. She sat on the couch and folded laundry.

  Alec rubbed between Eve’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”

  “No. My life sucks.”

  “I can help you forget about it for a while,” he purred softly.

  She pivoted and faced him head on. Her mouth opened, then shut again. The kitchen wasn’t the place to talk about sex and the inevitable ramifications of it. Her hand fisted in his shirt and she tugged him to her office.

  “I’m sterile,” he said curtly before she could speak.

  She gaped. Alec was the most virile man she’d ever come across. “W-what?”

  “I watched you exchange the soda for orange juice. You’re not pregnant.”

  Hurt straightened her spine. He said the words with such finality, his dark gaze cold and remote, his lips thinned.

  “God forbid, right?” Her mouth curved in a mocking smile. “You wouldn’t want the complication, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want,” he snapped. “There is nothing Heaven or Hell can dish out that is as painful as the loss of a child. Still, I might go through it again for you. But there’s no chance, Eve.”

  “Why?”

  “I almost lost my mind when the last of my children died. I said things to God that I regret. I couldn’t understand why I had to be punished in that way, too. Why I had to live interminably while my children lived mortal lives.”

  Her throat clenched in sympathy. “Alec . . .”

  “God did forbid it, angel.” His arms crossed. “The mark sterilizes everyone now. Female Marks don’t menstruate and the males shoot blanks.”

  Time froze for a moment, then rushed at Eve in a deluge. Years of dreams and hopes washed over her in a flood of tears that escaped in a hot stream down her face. “Will I get it back?”

  “I don’t know. Eve—” His entire frame vibrated. If she breathed deep enough, she could smell the turbulence in him. Alec was a man who felt as if every move he made was the wrong one. Another mistake in a lifetime of mistakes. He was passionate, impulsive, and headstrong.

  But could she blame him for what was happening to her? He couldn’t have foreseen how the decisions he made for himself would impact others. Bad shit happened to people. Rapes, beatings, muggings
, abuse . . . and countless other horrifying things. Miscarriages, accidents, starvation. But being a victim was a choice one made, and Eve refused to be a victim.

  “Angel?” Alec stepped closer, a move that was jerky instead of his usual graceful prowl.

  “Give me a minute.” She turned away to wipe her tears and was arrested by the tall, exceptionally dressed figure lounging in the doorway.

  “Rough day, babe?” Reed murmured, his gaze examining her closely.

  “It keeps getting better.” She swiped impatiently at her cheeks.

  “How can I help?”

  “Get the fuck out,” Alec snarled. “You’ve done enough damage.”

  “You only wish you could toss me out,” Reed retorted.

  Eve’s circumstances were what they were. Everything happened for a reason. She didn’t need to be religious to believe that. And it would take more energy to bitch than it would to do something about it. Instead of feeling crushed, her determination was strengthened. One thing at a time.

  Figure out the tengu.

  Deal with the Nix.

  Lose the mark.

  It was all doable.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, wanting out of her jeans, which were stiffened by the dried water from the Nix. “Then I’m going to do some online sleuthing in regards to Gehenna Masonry. You boys can either kill each other, or help my mom fold laundry.”

  They stared.

  “Or cook dinner, if you know how. I’m starved.” She waved over her shoulder on the way out the door.

  CHAPTER 13

  Eve stared at her computer monitor with focused intensity. She had allowed herself a good, hard cry in the shower—a shower that now had an aluminum cross dangling from the showerhead. She, a lifelong agnostic, now had a cross hanging in her shower and the Mark of Cain on her arm.

  Laughter at her situation had come first, then the tears that wouldn’t stop. She let it all out, her frustration and anger, her sadness and worry. She was pretty sure she cried more tears than she ever had in her entire life. And then she told herself that was all the self-pity she was going to wallow in. It took too much out of her.

  But the aftermath wasn’t pretty. She felt wrung out like a dish towel. Both Reed and Alec watched her with guilt and wariness. She’d finally retreated to her office to save them all the discomfort.

  Reed had folded laundry with her mom, while Alec made a thick hearty stew for dinner. Miyoko insisted on cutting vegetables and offering spice suggestions, then she left for home with obvious reluctance. Stubborn to the last. Eve fully expected a phone call tomorrow, asking why Reed—her supervisor—would come over for dinner and fold her clothes. She hoped she had a good excuse by then.

  Presently, she was using Google in her search for information about Gehenna Masonry. She had been distracted for a time by a brief search of Meggido Industries. It existed. And Alec was listed as the CEO and founder. The name “Meggido” also came up as a location better known as Armageddon. Alec had called himself a headhunter specializing in disaster avoidance. She had to laugh at his twisted sense of humor.

  “What’s so funny?” Reed asked.

  Eve glanced up and discovered him lounging in the doorway as he’d been when he first arrived. It was an insolent pose with his hands in his pockets and his pale blue dress shirt open at the throat. The room was dark, which allowed backlighting from the hallway to turn his silhouette into a dangerously compelling form.

  She shrugged in feigned nonchalance. No matter what he did or said, she couldn’t dispel the memories of their encounter. “Nothing. What’s up?”

  “What’s up with you?”

  “I’m researching the mason who created the tengu.” Eve’s gaze returned to the monitor.

  “How’s it coming?”

  “Fine. It’s hard to know if you’ve found what you’re looking for when you don’t know what it is.” She watched him enter the room with that delicious stride that was just short of a swagger. The brothers moved so differently, yet they affected her equally. “Where’s Alec?”

  “Checking the balcony for any water leaks.”

  “Because of the Nix?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can he get in that way?”

  “He can get in anywhere there’s a water source.” Reed stood beside her, staring down. He watched her with that indecipherable look she was becoming familiar with but didn’t understand. She got the “I want to jump your bones” part of it, but the rest—the confusion, regret, and sympathy—she didn’t understand those.

  Eve turned in her chair and leaned back to look up at him. She kept her exterior cool and unaffected, even though he presented an intimidating sight. With the planes of his face lit only by the glow from the monitor, he looked more devil than angel. “Gehenna is a relatively local company,” she said. “They’re based in Upland, California.”

  “That’s what? Forty-five minutes from here?”

  “Depending on traffic.”

  He nodded.

  “Their web domain name is only a few years old,” she continued. “They’re obviously a new company, but they became solvent quickly from the looks of it.”

  The light came on and Alec walked into the room.

  “We need to go there.” He directed a narrowed glare at his brother. “Take a look around. See what they’ve got going on.”

  “Go yourself,” Reed argued. “I’ll stay with her. No need to endanger her unnecessarily.”

  “Bullshit.” Alec approached the desk. “You should’ve considered that before you assigned her to this. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “I assigned her?” The incredulity in Reed’s voice was undeniable.

  Eve’s gaze darted to him, trying to visually verify the surprise she heard in his voice. She caught him quickly adopting a frozen mien that gave nothing away. But the brief glimpse of astonishment was enough to spark the suspicion that Reed wasn’t as in charge of things as he should be.

  “Didn’t you?” she queried.

  “He won’t tell you the truth,” Alec scoffed.

  Reed’s arms crossed. “Don’t speak for me.”

  “You’re a one-hit loser, bro. Better get that into your head. You’re never going to be alone with her again.”

  Eve stood. “Enough. I find the ‘hit’ reference offensive.”

  Alec muttered, “Sorry, angel.”

  “I make my own choices,” she said. “And right now, I’d really like to go back to that building with the gargoyles and take a closer look at them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we can’t go out to Upland tonight; it’s already too late. And I feel restless, as if I should be doing something. I don’t like that feeling.” She looked at both men. “It can’t hurt.”

  “It’s not going to be open.”

  “Is that normally a deterrent to you?” she challenged.

  “It’ll be guarded,” Reed interjected. “But you should have a Gadara Enterprises badge. As one of his employees, any guards should let you in with no problem.”

  He glanced at Alec with eyes lit with triumph. “You’ve got a lot to learn, bro.”

  Turning to the black lacquered box that had been left for her earlier, Eve lifted the hinged lid with its inlaid ivory cross and rummaged inside.

  “They left a box for you, too, Alec,” she said, gesturing to a cardboard packing box waiting on the sofa. “It’s in there.”

  “Fuck that,” he snapped. “Raguel only wishes he could file me into his ranks.”

  Eve’s box was the size of a large shoe box and it was filled with a haphazard collection of items ranging from some type of pepper spray to lip balm. She dug out a leather wallet-looking thing and flipped it open. Inside was a picture ID featuring the photo taken of her when she went in for the initial interview. She shivered thinking about how everyone had known she was minutes away from being marked, yet no one said anything or interceded in any way. If it had been the other way around, she would have to
ld the recruit to run like hell and don’t stop.

  “That’s it,” Reed acknowledged, looking over her shoulder.

  Eve’s fingertips traced over the embossed Gadara logo. Reflective watermarks caught the light and prevented easy duplication. The symbols were a combination of familiar images—such as a cross—and others that looked like hieroglyphs. “I thought all of Gadara’s employees were Marks. Can’t they smell what I am? What’s the point of this badge?”

  “The employees who work in Gadara Tower are Marks,” Reed explained. “They act as an early warning system to keep Raguel safe. It would be impossible for an Infernal to infiltrate the building undetected. But subsidiary companies and satellite buildings have some mortal employees.”

  “Keep him safe? I thought he was an archangel. Who would mess with him?”

  “An Infernal looking for a major promotion.”

  “Couldn’t an archangel kick their ass?”

  “If they saw the hit coming. The seven firm leaders live temporal lives, aside from seven weeks a year when they are free to use their powers while training Marks.”

  “They lose their powers?”

  “They have a choice,” Alec corrected. “They can use their gifts, but every time they do, there’s a consequence. It’s up to them to decide whether the transgression is worth it.”

  She snorted. “Another example of God trying to drive someone crazy.”

  “How else would they sympathize with mortals, angel? The archangels need empathy and understanding in order to maintain their motivation. They refused to bow to man as God ordered. What better way to see the error of their ways than to walk a mile in mortal shoes?”

  “Empathy and understanding?” Eve smiled without humor. “Frankly, I would be tempted to be frustrated and resentful. Why should I have to lose the privilege of using my powers to protect people that don’t give a crap about me? Unless the archangels are truly angelic—which Gadara certainly didn’t seem to be—the whole power-versus-punishment deal is just stirring the pot.”

  “‘Angelic’ and ‘devilish’ are mortal constructs,” Reed pointed out.