Key of Solomon: Relic Defenders, Book 1

by Cassiel Knight

  Lexi tapped her foot and tilted her head. Showing her annoyance while seated in a plush chair and covered by a cozy throw should have been easy.

  Somehow, she feared the effect was lost.

  “Well?” she finally said when Rocky continued to twitch.

  He sighed, then met her gaze. “The Phoenix is Mikos’s angel name. Sure, like a nickname.”

  “I didn’t realize angels had nicknames.”

  “Some do. The powerful ones.”

  Hmm. So Mikos was a powerful angel. An unsurprising revelation. “So, how powerful is he?”

  “He’s one of the top. In fact, if he had stayed, he might have been only second to Michael.”

  “Michael?” Not the first time she’d heard that name. “As in Archangel Michael?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  A thought occurred to her. “What did you mean when you said if Mikos had stayed? Stayed where?”

  “Well, you see—” he began.

  “Rocky.” Threaded with a silken vein of warning, the voice cut into Rocky’s explanation. She knew that voice.

  Mikos stood in the doorway, his icy gaze on the shapeshifter. He wore a charcoal duster over dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Inky hair looked tousled, as if he’d recently been in high wind. A folded newspaper peeked out from under his right arm.

  His austere appearance reminded her of Neo in The Matrix. Yum. Solid strength and power fairly screamed from Mikos’s pores. Lexi looked away before she met his eyes.

  She so didn’t want a repeat of the effect he seemed to have on her. Bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop her libido. She didn’t need his encouragement.

  Rocky bent his head. “Sorry, boss,” he mumbled.

  “When you have eaten, I expect a report.”

  “Sure, sure, no problem.” Without looking at Lexi or Mikos, Rocky blinked from view.

  Well. Talk about someone being peeved about secrets. “What’s with the gloomy-gus appearance?” Lexi said, gesturing to Mikos’s attire. She met his eyes now that she had a hold on her emotions.

  Right. Sure she did. Anybody want to sell her the Golden Gate Bridge?

  Mikos turned and faced her. “Go change and meet me in the training room.”

  Arrogant jerk. He didn’t wait for a response, just spun around and strode back out the door. Obviously he expected her to listen. Lexi grimaced.

  Pushing aside the throw, she stood. Okay, fine. She’d do as he said. Not because he ordered her, but because she was tired of sitting on her ass. Physical exertion sounded like a good idea.

  Thirty-minutes and fifteen seconds later, physical exertion sounded less like a good idea and more like torture. Lexi bent over, both hands on her thighs. Her chest heaved. Sweat, not the, er, delicate feminine kind, trickled down her temples and pooled in the valley of her breasts.

  She straightened and wiped the moisture from her face. The bastard, she thought, fixing a baleful look at her tormentor.

  In a short time, she’d learned more about defensive fighting than she’d ever thought she’d wanted to learn. When Mikos wasn’t kicking her ass, he kept up a near constant litany of how past defenders had saved the world. All he succeeded in doing was pissing her off. As if it made a difference what her supposed ancestors had done.

  As much as these lessons in faith annoyed her, the constant hammering disrupted the joy she usually felt in sparring. The angel apparently had a stick up his ass since he came at her hard and fast.

  During the last couple of days she’d held her ground, giving as good as she got. Mostly. Now it was apparent that Mikos ground her belief in her own abilities into the mats at his feet. Sure, she was good.

  He was much, much better.

  Lexi could already imagine the lovely blue and purple bruises she’d be sporting on her arms and legs.

  Grudgingly, and only to herself, she admitted his behavior today increased her defensive ability. Still didn’t mean she enjoyed acting as a punching bag for a raging angel.

  He lunged, aiming a rear punch at her jaw. Taken nearly off guard by his lightning fast movement, Lexi had just enough time to center her stance. As his fist neared, she thrust out her right arm, deflecting his arm downward.

  At the same time, she pivoted on her left foot toward him, using the force of the pivot and deflecting arm to counterstrike.

  Which never landed.

  He twisted and broke free, flipping over backward and landing in a half-crouch.

  That’s it. Grinding her teeth until she felt a twinge in her jaw, she launched her own offensive. Ignoring her various aching muscles, she shuffled forward with her rear foot. Her body shifted forward, snapping a front-leg straight kick at Mikos.

  Which didn’t land either. Damn it!

  He grabbed her kicking leg at the calf. Shit, she’d let anger rule her mind. Both froze. Lexi knew she could have attempted escape by closing the distance and wresting free. Didn’t matter. The important part was she’d allowed emotion to put her here.

  Balancing on one leg, she glared at Mikos. Her gaze clashed with his. She fancied she could almost see sparks shooting from the pewter eyes. She was sure her amber ones matched his fury.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she ground out the words between clenched teeth. She was tired, grumpy and muscles she didn’t know she had screamed. The last thing she felt like dealing with was a pissed off angel.

  He released her leg. Lexi danced back, wanting some serious distance between her and the obviously disturbed man.

  His face wiped of all expression, Mikos tilted his head. “My problem?”

  “Don’t act stupid. I’ve been working with you for enough hours to know you are doing more than training. You are trying to beat the shit out of me. What gives?”

  He held her glare for a moment, or two, then ran a hand through his dark locks. “Where is the Key?”

  Lexi shot him a withering glance. “Are we back to this?” She strode over to the side table and snatched a towel, wiping the moisture from her temples and forehead. “Nothing’s changed, Mikos. I don’t know where it is.”

  A slight flare of guilt reared its head. Had she even tried?

  He joined her at the table, standing close enough she could see faint silver dancing in his pupils. And the trickle of liquid trailing a path from the hollow of his neck, down into the vee of the T-shirt beckoned for a taste. If she concentrated, she could almost taste the sweetly salty liquid.

  Lexi sucked in a silent breath. For Pete’s sake. Her freaking libido was overreacting again. Of course, the fact her libido did anything at all was a source of concern. And aggravation.

  As if he could read her wayward thoughts, Mikos’s jaw tensed and the corner of his lips twitched. Was he going to do his woo-woo thing? Or had he done it already, which accounted for her raging hormones? Freaking hormones that shouldn’t be doing anything, raging or otherwise.

  He walked toward her and tossed the newspaper onto the table in front of her. “Page three.”

  Lexi tilted her head, confusion warring with curiosity. So, secrets didn’t make him angry. It was whatever was in the newspaper. She studied his expression. Or, was that something else besides anger? Concern?

  Fear?

  She bent her head to the newspaper and flipped to page three. Shouting out its message in a full-page spread complete with pictures, an article titled King Solomon cavorted with Demons danced across the space. Dead center was two pictures.

  The first was of a round jar sitting on a fan-shaped base. The photograph had a grainy appearance, like it wasn’t actually taken, but more as if was scanned from an old picture. Ornate handles, covered with curlicues, jutted from each side. She could barely make out the sigils covering the jar. The article named it the carcera spiritus, a prison for spirits. Demons.

  Oh boy.

  The article made further, vague references to the Temple of Jerusalem having been built by demons, King Solomon’s supposed ability to perform magic, including allusions to a grimoire ca
lled Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis, the Lesser Key of Solomon, which contained the incantations and invocations used to summon and control the demons.

  A niggling tickle of memory eased its way to her mind. She’d heard of the Lesser Key. Divided into five parts, the grimoire, or book on magic, essentially acted as a manual to invoke and oblige demons to do the will of the conjurer.

  She’d flipped through a copy once. The memory of the uncomfortable, someone-walking-on-your-grave shivery feeling, at the listing of demons’ descriptions, their seals and details on how to prevent the spirits from gaining control over the conjurer still had the power to evoke that feeling.

  Pulling her gaze from the jar, Lexi focused on the second picture. A ruggedly handsome man with sandy brown hair and green eyes stared back at her.

  No, the picture was not in color. Yet, she knew the color of his hair and eyes because she knew the man. Or, at least had met him once. The caption below the picture gave the same name he’d given her. At least he hadn’t been lying about that.

  She ignored the second picture and looked up at Mikos. “King Solomon? What’s the big deal?”

  “Do you know this man?” His finger jabbed at the man.

  For a moment, she thought denial sounded like the way to go, but then decided against it. “Yeah.” A hitch of shoulders. “I met him once.”

  She glanced down at the picture again. McKay’s handsome face didn’t make her insides stand up and take notice the way Mikos’s hard lines and darkness did.

  “When?” His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality.

  She raised her eyes to find him watching her. “The night I died.”

  Despite being pleased with the serene tone of her voice, the knife-like pain cut deep. No matter how much she worked to keep that fact deep in her psyche, it couldn’t be denied. She had died and been brought back.

  “So, I met him. What’s the problem?”

  “He’s looking for you.”

  Lexi felt her mouth drop open. Mikos laid a finger on the spot and right there, in black and white, was her full name. Not Lexi Harrison, but her full, long ass name for all of Chicago to see. How the fuck had they found that?

  She could feel Mikos’s sharp gaze boring into her as she scanned the article. Jackson McKay offered a reward to anyone who could lead him to the location of one Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison, formerly of blah, blah, blah. Her whole life spelled out in stark black against brilliant white.

  The amount of the reward left her reeling. One million dollars.

  One. Freaking. Million. Dollars.

  For her.

  For that much money, she’d turn herself in.

  Another fact leaped out, slapping her in the face. The bastard had listed the University and the location of Blush. She couldn’t ever go back there. Not unless she wanted to be the target of every fortune-hunting asshole.

  A gut wrenching sensation of anger mixed with fear twisted her insides. She stared at the opposite wall, not really seeing the washed-out, beige surface. Instead, she saw an empty expanse, devoid of purpose. Under the mercy of someone else to make it complete.

  Much like she felt at this moment.

  What the hell was she supposed to do now? This little hiatus with Mikos was really all it was. She’d had every intention of returning to school and returning to work, yet, in a few printed lines, those options were gone.

  All because of a supposed destiny she didn’t believe in. Where was her mind? The hope of something better? Something she could believe in?

  Yeah, she’d made a promise to try. Big deal. It’d been made under false pretences and hopes. That meant she didn’t have to abide by it. Right? That feeling should have bolstered her resolve, but for some reason it only left her feeling hollow.

  She lifted her gaze from the damning words and met the angel’s dark eyes, aware her expression must be as dull as she felt. Behind his glittering gaze, a note of empathy dwelled. Or pity? She didn’t care to see either.

  “I can’t go back to my old life, can I?”

  “No.”

  One word. That’s all it took for her world to collapse. All her hopes, dreams and desires falling into a puddle of dirt to be swept away like so much other trash.

  He held her gaze for a moment or two. He rubbed a hand across his chin. “Lexi, I am sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” A weak laugh escaped. “For what, Mikos? For ruining my life? Is that your fault or mine? Maybe mine. I’m not a woman to be pushed around and let others have control and yet, I allowed that from the moment I met you.

  “So, sure I can blame you,” she paused. “Well, I actually, I do blame you, but not as much as I blame myself for being so weak-willed as to let these things happen.”

  “I’d expected you to regain your knowledge by now.”

  Whoa. She didn’t know what kind of response she expected him to make. At least an argument or denial. Not an off the wall type comment. “Regain my knowledge? That’s supposing I had it in the first place, right? What are you talking about?”

  Mikos sighed. “The location of the Key. The things your parents should have passed on to you. We have less than a week to find it.”

  “How’s that my problem? I told you I wasn’t who you wanted.”

  His turn to scowl at her. “You are. Even after everything you’ve seen, you still insist on denying your heritage? Your faith?”

  “Damn it, Mikos, don’t make this out my problem. I never lied to you about how I felt.”

  “Indeed. Yet, you lie to yourself.” A frown set into his features. “Worse, you betray your father’s memory by your deceptions.”

  “What?” Lexi blinked rapidly. Lies? Deceptions? Had Mikos lost it? “My father?”

  Mikos scowled again. “Your father was a defender. He knew the importance of the Vessel and the Key.”

  Her turn to scowl. “I was five when my father died. If he told me anything, I don’t remember.”

  At the same moment the words left her lips, a wayward memory rose. Her father had whispered something into her ear the day he left. A phrase? A warning? Her five-year old mind hadn’t understood the words then, then promptly forgot he’d even spoken, beyond a promise to bring her something back.

  When her parents never returned, everything disappeared in that one instance. Between the telling and the hurried rush by the babysitter to offload a precocious child, right into the not-so-welcoming arms of the State. Of course, she couldn’t remember. No matter that the words hung on the boundary of her consciousness, looking for a way in.

  “Lexi.” Lost in her dark thoughts, she hadn’t heard Mikos speak. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Do you have a memory?”

  She opened her mouth to reply then snapped it shut. “I have lots of memories, Mikos, most of them bad. None where my father gave me any information about the Key and its location.” She shrugged. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  Shit, she sounded like a broken record.

  Unwilling to see the look of disappointment in his eyes, Lexi dropped her gaze to the article. “So, what do we do about this?” She gestured, her finger unerringly pointing right at the reward. Talk about a Freudian slip.

  “Do?”

  “Yeah, do. McKay’s after the same thing you are, right? Any chance he can find it before you?”

  “Not without your help.”

  “My help?” She choked out a laugh. “If I can’t help you then I certainly can’t help him.”

  Mikos tilted his head. “The reward is a significant amount of money. Enough for you to quit dancing. Do what you want. Live the kind of life you’ve dreamed.”

  Lexi squirmed. Did he know her thoughts? “How do you know what life I’ve dreamed of?” She laughed again, the sound brittle even to her own ears. “I don’t even know what kind of life I want.”

  A tiny voice scoffed. Of course, she knew what she wanted. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, the thoughts of family and a home were a niggling ache she couldn’t get beyond.
Pushed aside, forced deep, sure, but never forgotten. If she held it so close, how could Mikos have found out?

  “Sure, the money would be a help, but why would I want to work with another crazy person. One is enough for me.”

  A dark eyebrow rose. Amusement flickered in the eyes that met hers. Had he actually ever smiled or laughed? She couldn’t recall a single time when he had. What would a full on, belly shaking laugh do for him?

  “Mikos, you are needed.”

  The musical voice, tinged with the hint of steel, broke into Lexi’s musings. She spun. Marisol stood just inside the room, her expression cryptic, yet knowing at the same time. No fangs protruded from behind her lips.

  Today the striking redhead wore emerald green from head to toe. It should have looked ridiculous. It didn’t.

  Damn it.

  Marisol strode further into the room, keeping her gaze locked onto the Defender. From the amount of perspiration molding Mikos and Lexi’s hair to their skin, it was obvious the two had been sparring pretty hard. And from the pinched look in both their eyes, something else besides sparring had gone on.

  Mari didn’t know what to think about the new Defender. Granted, she hadn’t but met her once before now. But that wasn’t it. She couldn’t read Lexi.

  Defender or not, Mari should have been able to gain some sort of access to Lexi’s feelings. Her emotions. Mari found nothing when she probed. That’d had never happened before. It meant she would have to rely on her impressions.

  A disconcerting thought.

  “Something is amiss?” Mikos asked, pulling Mari’s attention from Lexi.

  Mari hesitated, her gaze flicking between the two. When he bent his head in an imperceptible nod, she continued. “An unprecedented massing of Beliel’s minions. Michael would like us to convince them to return to Hell.”

  Mari couldn’t help the grin that pulled back her lips. More than anything, she loved a good fight. When she and Mikos, after deciding to refute Lucifer, were recruited by Michael, she never had second thoughts about what she did. Her purpose.

  Unlike Mikos, Mari knew she’d never be permitted to return to Heaven. And where Mikos felt an all pressing need to return to what used to be their home, she didn’t. Even before Lucifer had decided to rebel, she’d been restless. Seeking something. Something she didn’t find as a seraphim. And something she hadn’t found as Lucifer’s minion.