Key of Solomon: Relic Defenders, Book 1

by Cassiel Knight

  Even she wasn’t that stupid.

  Yet, she was still furious. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Devyn’s sweet face. Instead of warm and full of life, the younger girl’s face had the glossy, smooth appearance of marble. White, cold. Lifeless.

  “Why should I care?”

  “You are the only one who can save your fellow mortals from extinction. From death.”

  “Everyone dies,” she scoffed. “Sometimes the timing is bad, but at some point everyone does. After all, we aren’t angels. So what if it happens all at once.”

  “There are worse things than dying.”

  The words sounded familiar. Mikos had said the very same thing to her when she first met him. “Blah, blah, heard that refrain before. I’ll tell you what I told Mikos. Sometimes living is worse than dying.”

  “Do you really believe that, Alexandria?”

  Lexi winced at the sympathy in the angel’s tone. Again, not pity. Pity would have just pissed her off. The caring and compassionate manner of the angel did more to shake the foundations of her belief than pity.

  So she did what she always did. She resorted to anger to keep her strong. “My beliefs are my own. It doesn’t change the fact that Devyn is dead. Murdered. For what? A game between good and evil? I may not have faith, I may not be a believer, yet even I know that in a game, innocents get hurt.”

  Lexi paced a short path. “Devyn was an innocent with her whole life stretched before her. Now it’s gone. Snuffed by bad guys. Demon, angel or human. Doesn’t make a difference.”

  “It does make a difference. You will learn. We may not be blessed with understanding the Lord’s reasons, but all things and all life given and taken have a purpose.”

  God, she hated when that phrase was touted out as the explanation for everything. “The Lord had a reason Devyn needed to die?” Forgetting her earlier thought about not pissing off archangels, Lexi shouted, “Don’t you get it? Devyn is dead, and it’s my fault!”

  As the shout slowly faded, the words reverberated through her mind. Her fault. She’d killed Devyn just as sure as if she’d had done the act herself.

  She should have gone after the girl. Instead, she’d made a deal with Mikos to train to fulfill a role she didn’t believe in. Instead of searching for Devyn, Lexi had been secluded in this beautiful mansion playing a game.

  Archangel Michael kept his calm gaze on hers. Before he opened his mouth, she knew the words he’d say.

  She held up a hand. “Don’t, please. I know you’re going to tell me it’s not my fault. My mind tells me you’re right, but my heart says something else entirely.”

  Michael nodded. “I understand. This is something you will need to discover for yourself.”

  His outline began to blur. A translucent aura surrounded him, gaining strength with every passing second. “Do not wait too long to understand, Alexandria. Every breath you take brings Samhain closer. Before long it will be too late.”

  Long after the golden Archangel left, Lexi stared at the spot he’d inhabited. In the wake of the sustaining anger, she felt drained. As if she’d run a thousand miles. Uphill.

  She slowly walked to the broken glass and, careful to keep away from the glittering shards, knelt. Her hands rested on her thighs as she considered the broken pieces of the last link to her parents. The hollow ache in her heart swelled, leaving her soul feeling lonelier than she’d ever felt before.

  That was it then. Everything she had was gone. Sure, she could buy another frame. Maybe she would. But somehow, the act of throwing her parents’ picture across the room symbolized her throwing away her parents. And any memory of them.

  Carefully pushing aside the sharp fragments, Lexi pulled out the photograph. The same faces she’d looked at for years gazed back at her. Was there condemnation in their expressions? Real or imagined, guilt swept through Lexi. She flipped over the picture, not wanting to see her parents’ disappointed faces.

  Something stuck to the back of the photo. An old piece of paper, slightly yellowing and brittle at the edges. The glue holding the note to the picture had dried and cracked with age, the adhesive barely holding the two pieces together.

  With careful fingers, Lexi gently tugged at the paper until it separated. Pulling at the corners, she opened the small square. Faded writing, more like scribbling, really, covered the small square of paper.

  She squinted then sucked in a deep breath and held it. The photo slipped from her fingers. Her stomach lurched at the first line. My darling daughter.

  Her body wobbled out from under her. Lexi barely felt the glass shards puncture her skin. The pain, a minor inconvenience to be ignored. Which she did. In her shaking hands, she held a link to her parents. A letter.

  Finally releasing the air she’d hoarded, she took a few gulping breaths. Her heart pounded, thud, thud, until it felt as if the furiously beating organ would burst from its confines.

  When she’d calmed enough to focus on the rest of the letter, she started reading.

  My darling daughter. My heart shatters at the thought of you facing your heritage alone. If you are reading this, every fear we had came to fruition. Your mother and I never expected things to turn out as they have.

  There is little time and little space to tell you all you need to know.

  You have a role to fill, a role that at times, will seem more like a curse than a blessing. You must have faith.

  The letter went on to tell her things she’d learned from Mikos about being a defender. Seeing this in a letter from her father seemed to solidify the information. Making it seem somehow more real.

  Lexi continued to read. The writing was harder to read near the end, as if her father had scribbled the rest hastily in an effort to jot as much down as he could in a limited amount of time.

  Alexandria, this last part is extremely important. Take a close look at the photo of your mother and me. There is a sequence of numbers. Go to the St. Stanislaus Kostka Church in West Town. The Archdiocese hides a safe. Use the numbers to open the safe. Inside is a priceless object. You must destroy it. To my shame, I was not able to before…

  Severe blurring obscured the next couple of words. Lexi touched a finger to the blot. She sucked in a deep breath. It looked like, well, a few tears had dropped onto the page. Had her father been crying? She continued to read.

  I wish I could have seen you grow into the lovely, strong woman I’m sure you are. We’ll see each other again, my wonderful daughter. Just know this, you are loved very much and the only regret I have is not being able to hold you in my arms.

  With much love, Dad and Mom.

  A splash of wetness hit her hands, matching the one already on the paper. Lexi stared at the spot. More followed. She lifted a hand and touched her face. Tears tracked a slow path down her cheeks. After brushing aside the moisture, she swallowed hard and bit back any further tears.

  All this time she’d had a letter from her parents, something else of them, from them, behind the old photograph. What twist of fate had allowed her to keep the picture, with this precious letter with her no matter how many homes she had moved into?

  Carefully brushing through the glass, she grabbed the photo and got to her feet, the letter and photo clutched in her fingers. Moving over to the window, she pushed back the curtains to let in the bright sunlight. In the glaring light, the outlines of her parents sharpened.

  So did the string of numbers printed on the back of the square, a notebook maybe, in her mother’s arms. She’d never seen that before. Or never took notice.

  The sequence of numbers appeared random, yet, with a purpose. As if they were a combination. Which seemed to match with her father’s instructions to go to the Church of St. Stanislaus Kostka.

  She’d never been there, although she’d heard of the Polish Cathedral style church, which also happened to be the mother church for all other Polish churches in Chicago.

  Lexi waited a few seconds more, staring at the photograph and letter. Would there be any more messa
ges from her parents? Something else she was supposed to see or read?

  The fabric of the curtain slipped from her fingers, dropping back to cover the window, casting the room into semi-darkness. Lexi studied the picture.

  This time, she barely saw the item in her mother’s arms. No words or numbers. A trick of the light?

  She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Plenty of time for her to make it to St. Stanislaus, open the safe and retrieve the object her father mentioned. Which, if her instincts were correct, was the same item the soul-sucking demon Beliel wanted.

  The item for which he killed Devyn to get Lexi to retrieve. Oh, she’d retrieve it all right. And destroy it as her father instructed. Beliel had made a big mistake.

  Instead of forcing her to give him what he wanted, killing Devyn had only solidified everything Mikos had said about the bastard. So the last thing she was about to do was anything Beliel wanted.

  Lexi committed the numbers to memory. A lump the size of a bowling ball lodged in her throat when she looked at her parents. The only physical thing left of them and she could only do one thing with it.

  With shaking fingers, she tore the photograph into tiny pieces. Each tear ripped through her body. Now that she knew of the photo and its message, she couldn’t risk anyone else finding it before she could get to the church.

  Sure, Mikos said he had his wards, yet, she didn’t put anything past a demon. After all, Mikos was an angel and didn’t have the dark side a demon did. He couldn’t be expected to safeguard everything against evil.

  She stared at the pieces in her hand, small enough now to fit into her palm. Burned, they should really be burned, she thought then decided it didn’t matter. No one would be able to assemble the pieces in enough time to beat her to the church. Unless they used magic. Lexi shook her head.

  Enough. Time to get going. After tossing the torn shards of her past into the trash, she went into the bathroom. She needed a shower then she’d see about getting something to eat.

  And deal with Mikos.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.”

  Dennis Diderot

  The crash and shattering sound of the glass jerked Mikos’s gaze to the second floor. He headed for the staircase, then halted with one foot on the bottom step. His senses screamed with the presence of a powerful immortal. A point of fact, Michael visited Lexi.

  As much as Mikos wanted to storm up the stairs, to take Lexi into his arms to protect her from the death of her friend and the mind games the Archangel would play, he didn’t. Michael would not appreciate the disturbance.

  Mikos didn’t want the all-knowing angel to see how much the mortal had worked her way under his skin. Not just lust, but something more. Something as equally forbidden.

  Instead of rushing to her side as every fiber of his being demanded, Mikos spun on his heels and went into his library. As he thought about the events over the last several hours, he paced in front of the fireplace. Back and forth so many times he lost track.

  Ignoring the silence from the second floor, he focused on the chaotic and disturbing thoughts whirling through his mind. He hadn’t expected the young woman to be unscathed, yet he hadn’t anticipated Beliel would kill her outright. Maybe once he’d gotten the Key and no longer needed Lexi’s good will. But to simply kill the girl…? Illogical.

  What would have been the purpose? To frighten Lexi? To make her fear for her own life? A foolish thing to do, and Beliel had never acted the fool before. Because of this, Mikos felt as if he trod unknown territory. Could there be another demon as Ash said? Had Morningstar released Rahab? All signs indicated he had.

  Lexi hadn’t seemed to notice, or recognize, the markings on the girl’s chest. He and Mari had. At least they’d recognized the purpose behind them. A summoning. An old summoning that only one who’d been close to Morningstar would know.

  Who had been summoned? And who had done the summoning?

  Mikos paused in front of the fireplace, his gaze seeing but not focusing on the collection of Canopic jars. He’d sent Mari to the Demon Realm to see what information she could glean. He could call Ash. As that thought crossed his mind, Mikos forced it back.

  No, no, he’d not call Ash. His brother had made a choice and, despite his visit and warning, was still Morningstar’s Slayer. For all Mikos knew, Ash could have been the one to kill the girl. The summoning wasn’t a normal one to call the Slayer but that didn’t mean Ash hadn’t been the intended demon.

  Mikos ran fingers through his hair. Beliel still needed the Key. Which meant he still needed to find Lexi. As much as it pained him to admit, the girl’s death was of less importance than insuring the Key was kept hidden. Mikos’s lips twisted. The protector had no idea where it was located.

  That should make him feel secure. It didn’t. It meant that Beliel would increase his attempts to acquire the protector. He knew, as well as Mikos did, that just because Lexi couldn’t recall the location of the Key, didn’t mean it wasn’t hidden in her subconscious.

  With Samhain less than three days away, if Beliel was to succeed, he’d need the defender. Otherwise, he’d have to wait another year and somehow, Mikos sensed Beliel didn’t believe he had the time. Maybe Lucifer had indeed become aware of the lesser demon’s bid for more power.

  But, as Ash indicated, did it bode ill for humans? Or Beliel?

  Mikos shook his head. He’d been in the Physical Realm long enough to understand human politics. One thing he’d never understand was angel and demon politics. The battle wasn’t about good defeating evil. It had always been about maintaining the balance. So that neither good nor evil ever took precedence.

  The politics played in the immortal realms were all about that balance. This made the games played even more unsteady. Who decided what shifted the balance? Some things were obvious. Like Beliel’s attempt to gain more power.

  The sealing by Solomon of the seventy-two demons into the Vessel had been necessary. Letting their power be absorbed by Beliel would set the lesser demon over Lucifer. Upsetting the balance. That could not be allowed.

  For all his faults and dark evil, Lucifer understood balance. He understood that as much as he might rail against God, the two needed each other.

  Mikos froze. His mind whirled with possibilities. So many things about the situation were unbalanced. Had Lucifer acted through others to stop the danger represented by Beliel’s actions? If that was the case, were the Lord of Hell and Lord of Heaven working together?

  Mikos felt his knees quiver at the implication. He collapsed into the side chair and rested his elbows on his desk. Staring at the scrolls and manuscripts littering his desk, the significance of both sides working together unbeknownst to their followers had eternal ramifications.

  At this moment, he felt as if he were a chess piece, in particular a pawn, to be moved about and sacrificed at the whim of the main players. That view also gave him a sense of what Lexi must be going through.

  What remained to be decided was what, if anything, would he do about his newfound knowledge.

  He rubbed fingers down his jaw line, grimacing when he bumped against the lump from the blow he’d received from Lexi. Lexi. Mikos drew in his lips thoughtfully, grateful to think about her instead of the games being played between light and dark.

  The pain at her friend’s loss had nearly undone him as well. Yet, he wasn’t about to let her destroy herself for revenge. She’d probably never forgive him for taking her away. He didn’t regret the decision and would do it again if necessary. At least she was safe. For the time being.

  Mikos concentrated on upstairs. He no longer felt Michael’s presence. He had no idea when the Archangel had left, just that Lexi was alone now. And it was too damn quiet.

  His lips firmed. Despite her anger, he had to go up and find out how she was. Even though he could simply materialize in her room, he took the stairs two at a time.

  Trying the door, he was
surprised to find it unlocked. He knocked softly. No answer.

  In the background, he thought he heard the sound of water running. Knowing, but not caring, that he was making an error in judgment, Mikos opened the door and stepped inside.

  His glance around the room locked in on the broken glass and pieces of wood lying in the corner. The source of the crash he’d heard earlier. He recognized what was left of the frame. The picture of her parents used to be resting on top of the dresser.

  Walking over to the shards, he bent down and peered into the pile. Where was her parents’ picture? The amount of anger she must have felt to throw the frame against the wall, destroying the only thing she had of her parents must have been so strong, why would she have picked up the photo? He’d have expected to see it discarded among the rest of the pieces.

  A door clicked. Mikos turned around. He met the startled cinnamon-shaded gaze of Lexi. Her wide eyes appeared huge in a pale face. She had a bath towel clutched around her midsection, the two ends clenched in a tight-fisted hold at her chest.

  Despite her slenderness, the towel didn’t cover as much as it tantalized Mikos with hints and flashes of olive skin and deep crevasses that beckoned his gaze.

  Lexi sucked in a startled breath as Mikos closed the distance, and pulled her roughly, almost violently, to him. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his lips hard and searching. Asking a question. The touch of his full lips was a delicious torment. Part warmth, part softness, all demanding.

  She must have made some kind of sound for he released her mouth, lifted his head slightly and met her eyes, his gaze searching. Asking. Hoping.

  Lexi answered by wrapping her arms around his neck and yanking his head down, pressing her open lips to his. In the back of her mind, she questioned her sanity in what she was about to let happen. For she wanted it as much as Mikos did. And really, why not?