Silence.
Sean’s face was closed for their guest, but Dec knew exactly what he was thinking, knew what his next move would be. They’d been down this road more times than he could count. While Sean waited for an answer to his last question, Li Jun sat stone faced and sweaty, his heartbeat getting faster and faster as the seconds ticked by.
“I’ve heard enough.” Dec stood abruptly and jerked his head at Sean. “He’s a dead end. Time for Plan B.”
The first sign they were in the right place was the bat-sized mosquito that landed on Dec’s arm the very second he rematerialized in the jungle. The second sign was the energy-sapping heat that hit them like an open sauna. A rumble of thunder warned them they were about to get drenched. Oh, good. Maybe the friggin’ insects would drown. He swatted at three more mosquitos before he took three steps towards the beach.
Beside him, Sean swore in Latin and then in Gaelic before finally switching to English. “Sonofafuckingbitch! I think I’m missing my right ear! Let’s get out of here before I lose something that’ll make Aisling unhappy.”
Dec coughed a distracted laugh because Sean expected it. His heart wasn’t really in it though. Uriel was sure this was where Keil was, but where the hell were they? It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t pull up any actual memories of spending time here. Just a feeling in his gut? Déjà vu, maybe?
They stood on the edge of a small bay that was bordered on two sides by jungle-covered mountains. The landscape curved around the water before leveling out enough to support the burned out shantytown that hugged the shore and clung to the hillside across from their position.
The flash of memory struck so hard his knees buckled.
Torrential rain. Screams of terror. Black-uniformed soldiers.
He knew this land. Knew this town.
“He’s here, Dec. I can feel him. He’s across the water.”
“Something’s not right here.” He let the lingering feeling of memory wash over him again, hoping for a hint, a clue, something to tell him what was coming next. But there were no more images, no more memories. All that was left was a hint of suffering that made his stomach clench. “Let’s go get him.”
A second later, they were across the bay. His spidey senses went into hyperdrive as the devastation came into focus. The tin-roofed buildings had been destroyed. Anything that could burn—had. The bitter reek of wet ash hung over the ruins, held in place by the heavy air. Although the houses were leveled, most of the tiny fishing shacks were intact on the docks. The fish that had been brought in were decaying in the heat; the rank smell made his stomach tighten even more. A couple of rats ran across his combat boot in their rush to make it to the buffet. He didn’t flinch.
“What in the hell?” Sean murmured under his breath before reaching into the holster on his waist and slowly drawing his weapon. All business now, he pointed his chin towards the narrow road that wound upward.
Dec nodded once and turned the safety off of his Sig. It looked like a bomb had gone off.
Grenades.
Keeping close to the buildings, they made their way to the second street where what used to be a bar still stood partly intact. How it had survived was anybody’s guess. The humans who’d been hanging out there hadn’t been so lucky. Two corpses lay tangled together as they had fallen. Dec copped a squat to examine them. Shot. Multiple times. They’d died instantly and so had two others who lay sprawled behind a stack of pallets. These two had also been sprayed with bullets, but they’d been hit in the back—probably trying to run.
“Oh, good. You’re here too.” Keil lurched forward from the side of the building. Dressed in a pair of boxers and covered in ash and blood, he stumbled towards them with glassy eyes.
“Where’ve you been, Keil? We’ve been trying to find you for days.”
Sean elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, “Is he stoned?”
Keil cocked his head to the side before fixing his gaze on the space above Dec’s head. “Do you see it? The colors . . . It’s . . . No. No. Stay back! No!”
“Keil? Hey!”
Staggering to a halt, Keil stared around in horror before collapsing to his knees with both hands clapped over his ears. “Not my fault . . . Not my fault . . . Uriel says . . .”
Chapter 14: Seek and Ye Shall Find
IN THE DAYS AFTER URIEL’S INQUISITION, Af spent his time staring at the ceiling, alone, but not lonely. The swirled pattern of the plaster moved as he let his focus soften and blur. Memories and visions collided, jockeying for his attention even as he searched for one in particular. Was he torturing himself with second thoughts? With sorrow? No, not even close. He had no care for what happened to one human. No, it wasn’t regret that brought him back to her again and again. As he sharpened the shape of her face for the thousandth time, the snapping brown eyes mocked his attention. He was too late. The woman was gone. Rori’s retrocognition was accurate even if she didn’t understand what it was that she saw. She might sort it out eventually, but the past couldn’t be changed. Not by a lowly psychic. Not by mighty angels. And certainly not even by the most powerful of demons. Lucifer himself had no power over the past. Thank God for that.
The future, on the other hand, was another story altogether.
Both Heaven and Hell toyed with humans all the time. Manipulated people or events in order to force the outcome they wanted. It was simply the way the ages of man were created; some events were purposeful, moving mankind towards the inevitable collapse; other events were the result of many bored superior beings. Angels did it—demons did it too—none of them were above fucking with people just for kicks.
The woman was beyond his help, wasn’t she? He let her dirty face fade from his eyes. There was no point in dwelling on her now. Seth would have taken steps to keep her destiny from unfolding exactly as his boss had instructed. If she was still breathing, she wouldn’t be much longer. No. Seth had been clear about that when he’d taken Af to Hell. Fucking Seth! When he closed his eyes, the memory came back in full color, 3D drama:
His body hung from the rack, reeking of blood and sweat. Seth’s reputation as a master torturer was well deserved. There wasn’t much left of Af by the time Seth grew bored with him. The agony was continual. He’d wished for the blessed numbness of shock but that never came. Instead, he felt each and every cut, burn, and bite until he was sure he’d go insane with the pain. Yet his mouth had remained shut. No information had left his lips. He was a good soldier.
As he’d retreated into a state of protective stasis, he heard Seth say, “I’ll rip her to pieces before I let her reproduce.” He’d leaned closer to Af’s ears. “She’ll scream and beg and I’ll enjoy it right up until the light goes out in her eyes.”
By the end of that meeting, his wings had hung limply to the bloody floor, feathers bent, twisted, missing.
His beautiful, powerful wings . . .
Rolling his shoulders now, he could practically feel them unfurl from his body, rising out and up behind him; their immense strength rocketing him to the heavens above. He could nearly feel the softness of each feather as they brushed his bare skin. Behind closed eyes, he pictured the slanting sunlight filtering through them as he carefully smoothed each feather to keep them straight and perfect. Would he ever feel them again? Would he ever soar through the skies as he was created to do?
Throwing himself from the bed with a growl of frustration, he pressed his face to the huge window, seething with rage at the city sleeping below. These humans had no idea what happened between angels and demons. No idea of the suffering and sacrifices they made just to keep them alive. Humans! His father’s pet projects! Bah! Weak, mindless, cruel. They didn’t deserve the blessings of life. They didn’t deserve this beautiful planet. They didn’t deserve his father’s love.
Pacing while the rant continued to grow, his hand automatically lifted to stroke his wings. When it touched only the scarred skin, he jammed his fingers through his hair, shoving it back, and scratching viciously at t
he stubble on his jaw. Fuck! They didn’t deserve his restraint either! He slammed his fist into the glass, but it didn’t as much as crack. Pounding it again and again did nothing either. Roaring his fury didn’t help. That damn Raphael’s protection was too strong to break. Finally, with bloody knuckles and pain shooting up his forearms, he thunked his forehead against the cool glass and sighed long and hard.
“Fuck me. I’ve got to get out of here before I implode.”
Afternoon traffic was beginning to build as Rori and Aisling waited at a crosswalk with a dozen other pedestrians. Bouncing from foot to foot, she tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, but it clung to her like the humidity. She wouldn’t feel better until she checked on April. That nagging shadow wasn’t going away until she did. Double checking that her friend was all right would put her mind at ease and distract her from worrying about her absent groom. Worrying about him was automatic, but pointless. Dec would move mountains to be here for their wedding. Nothing would keep him from showing up on time.
The impulse to shove people out of the way and leap over the city maintenance truck blocking their path was almost impossible to resist. Only Aisling’s hand on her arm held her back.
“I know you’re worried, but getting run over isn’t going to help April if she’s in trouble. Once we cross the street, slip into that courtyard and we’ll travel my way. Quicker, yeah?”
“Can’t argue with that.” Teleporting would be much better. It would be a hell of a lot faster than snaking through the stream of people filling the sidewalks. The light changed, the walk sign lit up, and the crowd surged forward to swarm the truck that was still stuck in traffic. Just on the other side of the street, an itty bitty park was surrounded by an ivy-covered security fence. The narrow entrance was shaded by the heavy vines and a handful of overgrown trees. Aisling looked for people before taking Rori’s hand.
“Ready?”
“You’ve got the address. Let’s go.”
For secrecy’s sake, they rematerialized behind the apartment building to avoid being seen. Aisling squeezed her fingers one last time before saying, “This is it.”
Rori shaded her eyes with the back of her hand and swept them up the side of the ancient brick building, letting them settle on the rusting fire escapes that clung to the backs of each apartment. One word came to mind—ick. This place was a dump. Her sweet friend lived here? Visions of rats and passed out addicts tickled at her imagination. Further down the block, a cluster of shady-looking men eyed them with interest, and a couple of dark comments made the shortest of the three burst into laughter. Wow. Talk about Déjà vu! This place reminded her of her old apartment—and that wasn’t a good thing. She sent Ais a tight smile. “We should go inside. I don’t like the looks of those guys.”
Aisling wrinkled her nose and said, “Yeah, I’d hate to have to go all Warrior Princess on them. I just got my nails done and I don’t think the baby would appreciate the acrobatics either.” She swung her head around and coughed. “What is that smell?” Still searching the alley, she jammed her hand over her nose. “Friggin’ decomp again! Is everything in this city dead? Geez.”
Rori bit her lip to keep from gagging. “Good God! Where is it coming from?” She glanced around for a bloated dead body, but the alley was empty of corpses. Her misgivings were increasing by the minute. There was no point in delaying even if her stomach bubbled with tension. Surely April’s okay. No reason to think the worst, right? No reason other than that sinking sensation that caused her to swallow hard and force her feet to move. Just as she took a step forward, the air rippled ever so faintly just out of her view. What the heck? Whipping around and staring hard, she searched for the source of the shimmer but the space was free and clear.
“What’s wrong?”
Rubbing her arms against the sudden goose bumps, she shook her head slowly. “That’s a very good question, Ais. I thought I saw something . . . but there’s nothing here. So . . . I must’ve imagined it.” She tried to laugh it off, tried to label it stress, but the niggling feeling of unease held her back. Something was up.
After slipping through a service door, they made their way to the front stairwell. April’s apartment was on the fifth floor. Peering around for an elevator, she frowned. Oh, yay. The ancient elevator was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to use. Its doors were partly open to reveal a graffiti-covered interior that was littered with broken beer bottles. Someone had helpfully posted an out of order sign on one of the doors and stretched fluorescent green tape across the entrance to keep people from accidently entering the car. A thick layer of dust coated the tape. Clearly no one was in a hurry to fix the damn thing. How on earth had April managed to get up and down those stairs? What was she doing in this place to begin with? She had money, didn’t she?
Already partway up the first flight of stairs, Aisling called over her shoulder, echoing Rori’s angry thoughts, “I thought you said she lived in a nice condo? This place is a hole.”
“I don’t like this at all. She shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right!”
When they made it to the fifth floor, they had to skirt around a man who was sprawled on the landing with a ratty blanket clutched in his dirty fist. Was he breathing?
“Hang on a sec.” Aisling nudged him with her toe and he grunted. “Alive.” Using her foot, she turned him over and he promptly pissed all over himself. She jumped back with a disgusted cry. “Ewww.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’ve seen enough. April’s going to explain what the hell she’s doing here, and then I’m getting her out. Dec has connections. We’ll put her up in another apartment. Some place better. She deserves to live out her life in comfort. This is no place for such a sweet little old lady.”
Fueled by righteous determination, they marched to the end of the hallway and stopped in front of April’s apartment.
Apartment 506.
“There’s that smell again!” Pressing her hand over her nose, Aisling exchanged a worried look with Rori.
“She has to be fine, right? Surely she’s okay.”
She knocked. Waited. Knocked three more times, each one harder than the last. “Come on. Come on. Answer the door.” Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she glanced at Aisling. “Can you hear anything? Maybe she’s asleep.”
Aisling shook her head and said, “I don’t hear any heartbeats inside.”
“Oh, my God! We need to get in there. Now! We need to—”
“She’s not there.”
Rori whirled to find a man watching them from the doorway of the apartment across the hall. Despite his ramrod-straight posture and neatly trimmed white hair, he looked as ancient as the elevator. His wrinkles had wrinkles and a generous spattering of age spots too. He reeked of death. Beside her, Aisling wrinkled her nose.
“Where is she? Is she all right? I’ve been worried sick!”
He studied them closely for a full minute before saying thickly, “You must be Rori. She spoke of you all the time. You were her favorite. It’s a shame you weren’t here when she passed on.”
A tidal wave of grief swamped her; gripping her heart, stealing the air from her lungs. Stunned and sickened, she repeated his words, “Passed on. She’s dead?” How did I not know? How did I miss this? Trying to hold back the sobs that stole her voice, she finally managed to ask, “What happened? She seemed tired when I saw her last, but she said she was feeling okay. She missed our weekly meeting today. I got worried and came to look for her.”
The man squinted at her without saying a word. He finally chuckled. “Now that doesn’t surprise me one bit.” He dabbed his eyes with the corner of a yellowed handkerchief and said, “She wasn’t one to complain. So you say she missed your last meeting? At the library, I assume?”
She nodded miserably, her throat tight with a howl of grief that she refused to release. Swiping at the tears that were running unchecked, she sagged against Aisling and pictured her friend’s face the last time she saw her. April was gone. She’d bee
n so wrapped up in her own life that she hadn’t sensed it. Didn’t know her friend was gone. Was she alone? Was anyone there? Did anyone hold her hand while she passed?
Aisling wrapped her arm around her shoulders and asked, “When did she die?”
The old man chuckled again, the sound turning phlegmy as he began to cough. His face turned a brilliant shade of pink before he finally settled down to the business of breathing again. When the wheezing breaths turned to gasps, he answered, “She left us a month ago.”
Whoa! What? “I just saw her . . .”
He nodded slowly, his mouth curling into a slight smile. “I’m sure you did. She was quite fond of you for some reason. She wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
“But . . . but . . . are you saying she was a ghost?” Too surprised to process, she blurted the words in a rush of breath. Leave? What did that mean? Had she moved? Died? The oppressive feeling that had been nagging at her, urging her to come here, was fading fast. In its place were a handful of helpful, new emotions . . . confusion, worry, and an ever-present, slowly simmering feeling of anger that surprised her with its intensity. Someone was playing her. She narrowed her eyes and cleared her throat to encourage him to continue his explanation. “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”
He burst out laughing and kept laughing until he ran out of breath and began to cough and wheeze. Oh, good Lord. This couldn’t be good for him. The last thing she needed was for him to stroke out at her feet.
Aisling moved to his side and patted at his back, her brow creased with worry. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know what to do with this either. I’m confused.”
He got himself under control before saying dryly, “I don’t think April would appreciate being called a ghost. The word implies a dead being and dead is not something April does well.”
Saol Mates (Primani Book Six) Page 16