Envy's Kindness (Seven Deadly Sins Book 2)

by R. A. Pollard

  Her hands itched to touch the glinting chrome and sleek bodywork. She felt like a gift had been given to her in that second, getting to see one of these bikes up close. A huge smile spread on her lips as she entered the grocery store, the gossips at the post office forgotten. Humming a little to herself, she moved through the store and decided to treat herself to a bottle of wine tonight. Her gloved hand reached out, and she grabbed a chilled chardonnay from the fridge.

  The bell over the door rang and in stepped Mr. Harley himself, dressed in full leather riders, his silver hair catching the light like a prism. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked around the store. She caught a glimpse of flashing silver eyes—they couldn’t be real! He took in everything before he turned to speak to Phillip at the counter.

  Sera kept herself hidden by the shelving, her eyes roaming over the male’s impressive back. That hair could not be natural, there was no way. She wondered absently if it was as soft as it appeared. She was paying too much attention to how good his ass looked in those leathers when his voice rumbled.

  “I’m searching for a young woman named Sera Holt. Would you happen to know her address? Please?” Her heart stopped beating.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beelzebub, Sin of Envy, leaned on the old-fashioned countertop staring at the old man who had gone very still when asked about the Seer. Ze narrowed his silver eyes, his leathers creaking in the silence. He couldn’t believe he had been voted to come to this backwater town and find the woman. There was too much going on back home for him to be here, but Lucifer had not so politely volunteered Ze to be the one to bring the female to them.

  Yeah, this is working out real good, isn’t it? Not only had he almost crashed his bike a few times due to dumb ass truck drivers, but now he was in Bum-fuck Nowhere, Iowa trying to get the old man behind the counter to open his mouth and talk. Ze didn’t need to read minds to know the old man was about to spill a bunch of bullshit to cover for the woman he’d been sent here to find.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know anyone by that name. No, wait, I do remember a young lady. She left town about six months back. I think her name was Sasha or Samantha, although it might have been Sera. My memory is not what it once was, you understand. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” Ze stared at the blinking human. His blatant lie had come out so easily, Ze had to admit he’d rolled it off without missing a beat.

  Ze knocked his gloved hand on the countertop. It was going to be so much harder finding the Seer without local knowledge. This was a big county with many farms. He would just have to listen around town for the chew on the female. If she lived here, someone would know about her, even if this human was determined not to tell him.

  “Thank you for your time, sir. Oh, would you happen to know where the closest motel is located, by any chance?” Ze didn’t expect much.

  “Sorry, sir. Hunting season starts this weekend, and the motels are booked from now until Thanksgiving. You might try down in Bashfield, fifty miles back out of town. Might get lucky there with a room.”

  Yeah, this was not working out the way he had hoped. Why couldn’t he have been sent to find a Seer who was not a recluse and clearly had this old man wrapped around her little finger? He nodded, thanking the old bastard again, and turned to exit the store. A small kid in an oversized jacket ducked behind some shelving, and Ze mumbled under his breath about small towns and annoying brothers. Heading for the door, he slipped his shades back on and wondered where he should try next. His eyes fell on the diner across the street, and he smiled. Food, coffee, and hopefully some information would brighten his day dramatically.

  The doorbell chimed as he exited. He was not happy about the idea of traveling fifty miles to find somewhere to stay. Maybe he could find a willing female for the night. A town like this had to be full of single women.

  “He is gone, Sera. You can come out now.” Phillip moved around the counter and walked to the door, watching the leather-clad man heading across the street to the BC Diner.

  Sera slid out from her hiding spot, the bottle of wine still clutched to her chest. What in the hell? Why would someone who looked like he belonged on an episode of Sons of Anarchy be looking for her? Letting out a shaky breath, she moved to the door and watched him vanish inside the diner before her wide-eyed gaze moved to Phillip.

  “What am I going to do? I don’t know that man!” Her gaze wandered back toward the diner, and she staunchly ignored the small voice in her head that made a note of just how much she would like to get to know him.

  “You get on home, Sera. I’ll spread the word, although knowing the people in this town, he is already hearing all sorts of things about you. Let’s hope he hears so much that he won’t know which way to turn. I have known the people here for years. They won’t let slip you live local, girl. Now off with ya. I’ll have Terry deliver your order this afternoon.”

  Sera could have kissed the old man, if not for the fact she didn’t want to relive the last five years of his life in an instant. Handing the bottle back to him, she moved to the door, checking outside before quickly rushing to her rusty truck and sliding into the driver seat. She turned the key in the ignition. The truck sputtered, threatening not to start. Panic rushed through her veins like ice water, her skin prickling, but the truck coughed then started with a roar. Sera let out a breath and pulled away from the store, heading back down Main Street.

  She saw the silver-haired male exit the diner, shaking his head with confusion. Apparently, he hadn’t found out anything. Excellent. His star-like gaze rose as she passed, their eyes meeting for a second. Quickly, she looked away, locking her eyes on the road and hoping he didn’t see anything to identify her. Don’t rush, just drive slow. Keep your eyes forward. He didn’t see anything. Hell, those eyes of his were hypnotic, like stars sparkling, and with that silver hair, he was every inch the fallen-angel biker sent from hell to corrupt her. Damn, if not for the fact she would come near to dying if she touched him, Sera might have even risked it, just to see if his hair was as soft as it looked.

  The town vanished behind her, and she finally let out a breath. God, what a morning. She hoped that would be it. No biker following her, no panic attacks, just a nice evening alone. But doubt bit at her. Someone would let slip she lived here, no doubt someone like Sandra Marshall.

  Ten miles outside of town she turned onto the dirt road that led up to her farm house. Every five seconds her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror to make sure she hadn’t been followed. No leather-clad Harley riding fallen angel in hot pursuit, what a shame. Not that she could do anything about it, but damn. The man looked like he was born to ride that bike.

  Ze didn’t know whether he should be laughing or roaring in frustration at the inane chatter he kept hearing from the people in this town. They told stories about a girl who was covered in scars from head to toe, about someone hiding out from the Mafia, or the FBI, or both. Hell, even a tale of a woman hiding from an abusive father who was going to force her into marriage. All he needed now was for someone to say that the woman he searched for was an alien and he would have an edition of Inquisitor Magazine on his hands.

  It appeared that the storekeeper had been spreading the word about a stranger in town. That was a magnificent feat given he had just been in the damn store less than fifteen minutes ago. His eyes skimmed the people. The only one who entered after him was a small boy now eating ice cream at the counter. Ze guessed he was the messenger from the old coot across the street, so although everyone had been perfectly polite and friendly to him, hardly anyone would give him a straight answer. This was a lesson in patience and finding someone the old bastard had yet to tell about his presence here. His coffee cup was refilled by a sweet lady called Doris, who gave him a smile and patted his hand reassuringly.

  “You look like you could use a shoulder to cry on, young man. I get off at four—take me for a drink?”

  Oh great, now he was being propositioned by fifty-something women. Why did he have to get sent
on this task? With a groan, he stood and dropped his money on the counter. His idea of shacking up with a willing female for the night didn’t stretch to cougars.

  “Thank you, Doris, but I really need to get to that motel in Bashfield, I think it was. Sorry. Thank you again.” Ze needed out of this small town before he was hog-tied and forced to marry some backwater man’s daughter because he looked at her wrong. He moved quickly to the door before another person accosted him. He opened it for two ladies entering, their chatter reaching his ears.

  “I don’t know where that little chit gets off just waltzing into town the way she does. Making my husband pack all that food for her. It is not like she is crippled or anything.”

  “There is something very odd about that girl, Margery. Walking around like it’s full winter, even in the middle of summer. I have never seen her at church; it is positively indecent. I bet she’s running some kind of illegal business out of that house. Why else would she live so far outside of town?” The voices of the two women faded as Ze exited the diner.

  Ze grinned, so being hit on by a cougar looking for a good time had paid off finally. Seemed that the Seer was here, somewhere outside of town. Perfect. Well, that would narrow it down at least; once he was outside the town limits, he could summon one of the three Cerberus brothers to help him track her down. Those hellhounds were always happy to help out if it got them out of work down in the Underworld.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  True to his word, Phillip had her groceries delivered to the drive of her home. Sera made short work of packing them into the truck and heading back down the four mile stretch to the old farmhouse. Dusk was falling by the time she was done, the sky painted in hues of red and purple. She loved this time of day—nature always showed such brilliance. Each setting sun gave a different picture. She would never tire of it. The two-story wooden farmhouse came into view, dark against the etched sky, only a few lights glittering in the gathering night. It appeared that the biker dude with the starlight hair had given up. Phillip left a note for her with her groceries, informing her he had been seen leaving town early in the afternoon.

  That was a blessing at least. Even better was that Phillip had included her bottle of wine and not charged her for it. He really was a kind old man. How he had ever married that harridan, she would never know.

  Sliding from the truck, Sera grabbed the bags and jogged up the steps to her home. She always felt better when she was here in her little protective cocoon from the world. Pushing open the door, she headed through the house to the kitchen, where she dropped her groceries on the counter. Humming softly, she headed back out to grab another armload.

  Her mind drifted to the man she had seen this morning. Hell, he was becoming an obsession. Not just that sweet bike of his, but the man himself. The whole time she had kept herself hidden in the store, she had listened to his voice, wonderful and deep. It had been blatantly clear he didn’t believe a word that Phillip Dunham had said. Still, he had taken it in stride, leaving to find someone more amenable to his questions. Now Sera yearned to hear that warm tone again.

  Shaking her head, pushing away the wisps of desire, she refilled her arms with bags. It didn’t matter how much she would love to ride on that bike, or let’s just say it—take a ride on the fallen angel biker it belonged to, it was never going to happen. As she went up the steps, she wondered if that silver hair of his covered his entire body. She was brought to a stop at the sudden soft rumbling of a purring motor in the night.

  A single light shone in the darkness, moving closer to her home. Her breath caught in her throat, but she refused to turn around. This couldn’t be happening. Her feet were stuck to the ground as if glued. Swallowing down the rising panic, she dropped the bags of food, self-preservation finally breaking the spell.

  She bounded up the stairs and threw open the door, slamming it behind her and bolting every lock installed on the flimsy wooden slab. She then backed away, shaking her head. No, this simply couldn’t be happening. The rumbling died away, and the light blinked off, leaving the small glass inlay of the door dark once again. This was not her. She had never been one to hide from people like a scared deer in headlights. She could just tell him to leave, she could do that. Hell, she had hunted murderers and rapists. Sending one hot biker packing wouldn’t be that much of a task, right?

  Ze stopped the bike and took in the homey scene before him. The door to an almost totally rusted-out hunk of junk truck stood open, illuminating the food strewn across the ground. Broken eggs oozed out of their shells and mingled with spilled milk in the dirt, leaving a disgusting puddle in the middle of the driveway.

  The only thing that came to mind in that second was the Malakhim. Those messed up angels had decided that ending the human race was next on their to-do list. Couldn’t they just take up needlepoint if they were bored? Damn bastards were hunting for the Seers. Women with magical blood running through their veins. Their whole plan hinged on capturing one alive so they could make her open Pandora’s Box and release the remaining Sins trapped within, thereby bringing about the total destruction of the world. So the carnage of groceries strewn like leaves had him rushing from the bike and pounding on the door.

  “Sera Holt!” He shouted her name, pulling on the door. Muffled whimpering and crashing came from inside. Panic rose in his chest. He gripped the handle and yanked. The flimsy door ripped from the frame, and Ze rushed into the farmhouse battle, ready to defend the Seer with his life.

  A section of wall beside his head suddenly exploded. He yelped and dropped to his knees, his silver gaze searching for the assailant, coming to rest on a five-foot-nothing pixie with flaming red hair and blazing jade eyes. She was holding a double barrel shotgun almost the length of her whole damn body, and the death glare was meant only for him. Holy crap—was this the Seer?

  “Get out of my house! You can’t be in my house!” She trembled violently. The gun must have been heavy in her grip, but her knees were strong. She was not budging, even if it did look like a stiff breeze could knock her over.

  “Whoa! Wait, I’m here to help you!” Ze stuck his hands into the air as another round of buckshot splintered the post and balusters of the staircase. He felt the telltale sting from wood shrapnel against his skin. Damn, he was lucky she was a crap shot. The force of the recoil made the small female stagger, but she recovered quickly, opening the breech, pulling out the spent shells, and replacing them with quick skill.

  “You have five seconds to get off my property before I blow your head off!” She lifted the reloaded firearm, sighting down the length of the barrel.

  Ze remained in a kneeling position, his hands up and eyes wide as he stared death in its dazzling jade eyes. “Listen to me, Sera. My name is Ze. I’ve been sent to get you. Isabelle assured me you would understand. She said she found you, reached for you from afar.” He was one dead demon if she didn’t drop the gun. Tiny as she was with her mane of wild red hair and flashing eyes, she held some strength in her little body, and her arms were beginning to shake.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know anyone named Isabelle!” Ze made no move toward her, nothing threatening at all.

  “Okay, she said this might happen. I have something for you. She told me you would understand. I have it written somewhere, damn it…” He patted his jacket pockets, trying to find the letter Isabelle had written to the crazy woman. Reaching inside his jacket, however, was a stupid idea.

  “No! Take your hands out!” Panic filled the room, and the gun went off a third time. The banister beside him exploded, sending shards of wood and pellets deep into the side of his face and neck.

  Ze hissed loudly and leaned forward, covering his face, swearing low. He gritted his teeth at the radiating pain. He was just lucky he hadn’t lost an eye. The gun clattered to the floor, and he looked up. The crazy pixie was terrified. Shaking her head, she backed away as if he were the one holding the gun on her.

  Her eyes were wide with terror, her skin
taking on the pallor of fear, losing all of that beautiful red rage she had held only moments before. The woman was breaking apart right before his eyes. Unsure if she was actually seeing him or just reacting to the blood, Ze winced and stood slowly. Her eyes were locked on the blood streaming down his face, dripping to the floor. Her hand moved to her throat.

  “My God. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, no, please…” she just kept repeating.

  His brother, Abbadon, had been right. Something bad had happened to this woman the last time she helped the police, and because of that, she had withdrawn from the world. Unfortunately, he had barreled in headlong, resurrecting whatever had terrorized her in the past. Guilt hit hard in his gut. He needed to fix this. He moved toward her, exercising caution. She didn’t budge, just continued shaking her head and mumbling she was sorry.

  “Easy, Sera. I’m coming toward you, please don’t shoot me again or anything.” He reached out, gently pulling her hand from her throat. “Come on, little pixie, look at me. Let’s get some of that fire back. I much prefer you trying to kill me than this.” Keeping his tone level, he tilted her head up keeping her gaze away from the blood on the floor.

  It was as if she were trapped in some inner world, unable to break free. Tears rolled down her cheeks, yet she uttered no sound. It broke him, seeing her in such terror. No one should have to live like this. He racked his brain, trying to think of a way he could get through to her without bringing her any more agony.

  Isabelle, his brother’s future wife and the Seer of Empathy, had mentioned that Sera was most likely gifted with psychometry—the ability to see the past. To his people, it was known as Hindsight, one of the great Seer gifts. Using his teeth, he pulled the glove from his hand. He prayed to Hades—and any other god who would listen to his damned soul—that this would work so he could break her free of this comatose stupor in which she was now stuck.