Saol Mates (Primani Book Six)

by Laurie Olerich

  “You moron! Get out of the street!”

  Slapping his hands over his ears and clamping his lips together before he said something he’d get in trouble for, he stalked towards what he thought would be the quiet of the park. Stopping dead, he groaned. No! He swiveled his astonished gaze in a 180° sweep. Humans everywhere! Talking! Laughing! Breathing! Where did they all come from? His sanctuary was packed. There were benches along the sidewalks, but they were filled with people eating their food. There wasn’t an empty seat in sight.

  Growling under his breath, he cut across the sidewalk to a tree and pressed his back against it to think. His head ached. If he had his wings he could simply fly away! If he had his fucking wings, he wouldn’t be in this damn mess to begin with. Would he be trapped in this hellhole for eternity? It was inconceivable. He’d kill every living thing and his father would be displeased. His job wasn’t to kill the human race. Not yet anyway. That mission was still on the distant horizon. No, even if he despised the noisy creatures, his father did not. He couldn’t smite the island of Manhattan either. Raphael would have his ass if he hurt his precious pets.

  Wincing at the sudden staccato sound of automatic weapons fire, he rubbed his eyes in search of some relief. If he could somehow tune out the noise . . . Closing his eyes helped to settle his thoughts until the obnoxious blasting of two car horns jarred him from his musings. The horns, followed by the squealing of tires and the crunch of metal, were nearly outshouted by the humans who were driving the cars.

  That’s it! He couldn’t hear himself think, let alone make plans.

  “Quiet!”

  Everyone within one hundred yards went silent—muted by the power of God—or at least the power of Af. His father would likely frown on his methods, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was losing his mind. Surely a wee bit of angelic interference was better than an insane Angel of Destruction? Of course, all the people ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, their mouths moving with silent screams.

  The key word being silent.

  They’d live. Drawing a deep breath, he tamped down the distracting rage pouring through him and prepared to meditate. Leaning back again, he closed his eyes and brought Seth’s image to the front of his mind. Where are you, Seth? Here demon, demon . . . Come out, come out, wherever you are!

  Beginning with his most recent memories, he backtracked to the day Seth got the jump on him. The more he remembered, the more furious he got. By the time he visualized the friggin’ asshole eating the flesh off his bones, he was glowing with rage. Rubbing his healed ribs, he clenched his jaw and imagined all the ways he’d kill Seth. He’d been around awhile so there were plenty of ideas floating around in his head. He just had to find him first.

  After ten minutes of scanning the world for Seth’s energy, he came up with a big fat zero and an irritating buzz in his ears. Damn it to Hell. Where was he? That smarmy demon had a lot to answer for. Before he killed him, Af was going to force him to undo the dark mojo he used to pin his wings. Uriel was sure it was Lucifer’s doing, but Af wasn’t convinced. What would Lucifer gain by grounding him? Af was one of his go-to guys. It didn’t make sense.

  Just as he opened his eyes, a drop of rain plopped onto his head. Then another. And another. All around him, people had fled to gather in terrified clusters outside his sound-free zone. Now they glanced up at the sky and began to wander off.

  Oh, look! There’s a helpful policeman staring at him with the urge to be a hero stamped all over his face. He took a step in his direction, but Af shook his head, and warned, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, officer.”

  The man stopped suddenly and turned around to leave. Good idea. I don’t have time for interruptions.

  As the rain fell hard enough to plaster his hair to his skull, he thought of another rainy scene.

  A rainy tropical scene.

  A rainy tropical scene with the cause of all of this trouble kicking and screaming in the middle of it.

  If she was still alive, he could track her. If she was still alive, she was with Seth. He’d made it clear he was going after her himself. The girl would be easy pickings for Lucifer’s bright and shiny suck up. Feeling more optimistic in spite of the rain now molding his clothes to his body, he extended his sight to tap into Rori’s mind as she lay sleeping in the penthouse.

  Every human’s soul had a unique signature that allowed it to be tracked. He only needed to see the girl from Rori’s vision one more time. Once he identified her signature, he’d commit it to memory and use it to find her. Find the girl. Find the demon.

  Find the demon. Get his wings back.

  It took only a few seconds to locate Rori and get to work. She was still soundly asleep on her bed. Perfect. In sleep, her subconscious was vulnerable to exploitation. He was inside and nosing around in a flash. It really should’ve been harder to slip into her head, but it was a piece of pie, or cake, whatever. Once inside, he shoved aside her recent memories until he came to the vision of the girl. There you are.

  Struggling and probably screaming her bloody head off, the girl was exactly as Rori described her. As he watched, the soldiers dragged her away from her boyfriend’s body. One tossed her over his shoulder and took off. Seth.

  Gotcha, you prick. I’m coming for you.

  Rori mumbled in her sleep and twitched her middle finger. Was she coming around? Pushing thoughts of vengeance to the side for now, he used his sight to identify the girl before Rori figured out what he was doing.

  Irina. Her name was Irina.

  Rori gasped and stiffened. Poof! Irina and Seth dissolved into blackness. Had she sensed him? Noooo, definitely not possible. He was too good for discovery. Backing out, he drew his sight back to his own mind.

  Wiping his hands on his pants, he took a long, slow look around the park and smiled with satisfaction. My work here is done.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Irina screamed and turned to run, but the freeway vanished in a screeching whirl of light. Crushing pressure twisted her body until her spine nearly snapped. Then it was over. Seth held her flush against his chest in the middle of a bland hotel room.

  “Oh, my God! How did we get here?” Hysteria forced the words from her throat.

  “Shut up.” He clutched the back of her head, bending her over his arm, covering her mouth in a brutal kiss that drew blood. His fingers dug into her skull as she struggled to break free. Clawing and kicking, she fought with all of her strength, but it was like throwing herself against a mountain. He ignored her struggles as he let his anger loose. Gripping her braid in his fist, he pulled her head back to bare her throat.

  Nipping the skin, he flicked his tongue over her artery before saying, “What part of demon do you not understand? I warned you. You were afraid before. Now I’m going to give you a reason.” With that, he dropped her to the bed and straddled her waist. She screamed and he jammed his hand over her mouth. With sharp, angry movements, he jerked his belt free and wrapped it around her head, gagging her with it. “I wanted to make this fun for you, my sweet. I really did. Since tomorrow’s your last day on the human plane, I was going to give you a treat tonight. But, no, you had to run.”

  Shaking her head, she shrieked around the gag, tears flowing as if the dam had finally broken. Above her, he only wagged his head in disapproval. Clucking his tongue, he dropped his gaze to her chest and began unbuttoning her shirt. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her neck almost gently, murmuring soothing words in that guttural voice that sent dread swarming over her skin. Flicking his tongue over her throat, he lingered over the pulse jumping in her neck for the space of a heartbeat before sinking his fangs into it.

  The quick burst of pain receded to an ache as he suckled slowly. One lean hand held her head at the angle he wanted while the other gripped her shoulders, holding her still and holding himself in position. His weight pressed her deeper into the saggy mattress until she was nearly cocooned. Helpless to push him away, s
he lay there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling while hot tears poured over her cheeks. It was funny how clear certain things become when you’re about to die. Her mind fixated on the creature that would kill her. She felt the hot softness of his tongue as he used it to coax her blood into his mouth. Every few seconds, she felt his lips press more tightly as he swallowed. She’d thought it would hurt, but it didn’t really. The hypnotic motion of his tongue stirred something deep inside. Her belly coiled in on itself as an ache throbbed between her legs. His fingers were firm on her shoulder, but she wanted him to touch her in other places. Secret places he had no right to know. Places he’d already been. Her hips curled upward seeking more shame. She was going to die. Now she was surely going to Hell as her soul must be damned to have lust for this monster taking her life.

  What has he done to me?

  Seth drank carefully. He couldn’t afford to damage her. She had to be unscarred for the final buyer. The tiny puncture wounds would be healed easily. Any larger wounds would be a problem. So even though he was so pissed he wanted to rip her throat open and shower in her blood, he took his time enjoying the rich sweetness flowing down his throat. Her body was lush, young, sweet. He’d sample more than her throat before this night was over. There were many veins to tap. Next he’d drink from her breast. Then after giving her a rest, he’d press his mouth to the thick artery in her groin, but for now he needed to stay in control and not give in to his nature. Carefully toying with the artery, he was able to keep the flow slow enough to keep her alive, but fast enough to satisfy his hunger.

  His fingers were numb from gripping her shoulders when she’d finally stopped struggling. Good. She’d given up on the fight. Things would be easier now. More pleasurable for them both.

  Leaning back, he reached for his athame. Bringing the flat side of the blade to the punctures, he murmured, “vi diate,” and the holes were sealed.

  Her eyes were closed now. Her breathing should be slow, shallow, from blood loss and fear. He studied her more carefully and smiled with real pleasure. Her lips parted as she panted softly. Her hips lifted to rub against his thighs. The uptight little Christian was aroused. Well, now. This was a nice surprise.

  The sun rose as it always had—in the east. Why she thought it would be different today, she didn’t know. With her face pressed against the passenger side window, she stared with unseeing eyes, missing the scenery as it blurred by. They were on the way to meet one last buyer. This one was in Washington D.C. It was the capital of the United States. Was this man a politician? Someone important? Rich? Perhaps she could plea for asylum. She had heard the United States offered this. What it was, exactly, she didn’t know. But if the man was a politician, maybe he would save her. Or maybe not. In her country, politicians were not elected for their honor but for their military followers. She had not heard of any who really cared about the people. They all wanted to taste absolute power. Was it the same here in America? Perhaps it was. She lost nothing by asking the question, though. She would beg if she had to. She fiddled with the button for the window. The tiny purple bruise on her wrist mocked her. She was ruined. It did not matter what happened to her now. She was going to Hell.

  The demon—that was what he was regardless of how he’d made her feel last night—cast his eyes in her direction as he pulled the car into yet another hotel parking lot. He’d explained this was only a few miles from the big white house where the president lived. Perking up, she peered through the window. Could she run to this place? There would be police there. Would these police help her or were they corrupt? She searched in all directions, but the only thing she saw was more freeways. Perhaps he had lied. Perhaps there was no white house.

  “We’re here. Touch up your lipstick so you look pretty for this man.” He waved aside her sullen glance. “Watch your attitude. I’ve heard this one’s rich and mean. You may want to keep on his good side.”

  “For what? I am as good as dead no matter what I do, right? At least let me keep my dignity.”

  He leaned across the console and smiled. “Too late for that.”

  Seth ignored the girl while he scrolled through his messages for the name of the next bidder. Senator William P. Scott was registered under the name James Brassard in room 319. The room sat on the back side of the hotel. The building was situated near a cluster of chain restaurants, a strip mall, and two gas stations. Not quite D.C., it was close enough to have the high taxes, heavy traffic, and occasional terrorist alerts. Seth didn’t give a shit about any of those things. He didn’t pay taxes. He didn’t have to drive. And he was sometimes the chief planner of the terrorist attacks. What he did mind about this area was the obsessive use of security cameras. He preferred to keep a low profile. It was best for business. As he closed the car door, he studied the cameras located at the entrances. Turning his face away, he caught the girl by the elbow and towed her inside. This was the last stop before the auction tomorrow. If they made good time, they’d make it to the house in the Catskills early enough to relax before the camera crew showed up.

  Chapter 18: Wings and Angel Things

  IRINA’S SOUL BLINKED like a plane on a radar screen. Af hooted a triumphant laugh and elbowed his way through the crowd. Yes! She was south of him. Someplace called Virginia. He’d bet the fate of the world that Seth was still with her. In five minutes, he’d be knee deep in demon blood! He’d spend all day peeling those bloody scales off one at a time. Seth would beg for death long before it came. Caught up in this imminent victory, he dismissed the human witnesses and launched himself into the air—

  aaannnd landed flat on his face in the middle of the wet sidewalk.

  “Hey, dumbass, get out of the way!”

  “Weirdo.”

  Someone stepped on his fingers as the crowd parted around him before he rocketed back to his feet with his face flaming with embarrassment. Two men dressed in black business suits dodged him without slowing their pace. A woman on his right wasn’t as quick and barreled into him, sending a cup of scalding coffee flying across his chest.

  “What the hell, dude? Get out of the way!”

  That’s enough! Throwing his arms out wide, he snarled, “A plague on you all!” before shoving his way into the nearest alley to regroup. Panting with humiliation, he punched the side panel of a delivery van. “Fuck!”

  What was he thinking? His wings were gone. Gone! He couldn’t fly to Virginia. He couldn’t fly anywhere! Sonofabitch. He was so screwed. Shielded from the street, he rounded his shoulders, trailing his fingertips over the spot where his wings should be. He could almost feel them tugging his shoulders upwards as they unfurled and lifted for flight. Gazing at the sliver of sky peeking between the suffocating buildings, he imagined himself soaring up and away from this disgusting alley, wings behind him as he climbed into the heavens, the bracing cold surrounding his body as he cut through the cloud cover and the searing heat of the sun warming him, softening his feathers . . .

  With a ragged sigh, he threaded his fingers through his hair and sagged against the van. It was pointless to dream. Dreams were for creatures that were powerless to take action. He had no use for dreams. He made things happen. It was in his DNA. He would find Seth and get this cursed sigil removed. He would fly again if it was the last thing he ever did.

  There was no other ending for him. He was an Angel of Destruction. The power in his feathers gave him that distinction. He needed his wings for so much more than flight. Staring at his reflection in the van’s window, he caught himself raising one shoulder in annoyance, twitching wings that weren’t there. Shit. Without his wings, he was just another angel. And an earthbound one at that.

  To add insult to injury, a pair of purple and grey pigeons settled on the dumpster in front of him. Studying him with their beady, black eyes, they started pruning their tail feathers, making stupid pigeon noises as they worked.

  “So you can fly? Good for you. Too bad you’re at the bottom of the food chain. When you get old and slow, something will
eat your stupid asses.”

  The bird closest to him stopped pruning to raise its wing in a defiant wave. Was it mocking him? He hissed at it. With an un-pigeon-like squawk, it launched itself at Af’s head, leaving a trail of shit as it pumped its wings to get airborne.

  Whirling with fury, he shot the other bird between the eyes with a blast of energy that left him a featherless, smoking corpse. “Try to fly now, smartass.”

  Blowing up the pigeon didn’t make him feel any better. He was more pissed off than when he started out this morning. He’d thought he was free. He’d gotten around Raphael’s security system and found a way to track Seth. He’d thought this would be simpler.

  Escape. Find Seth. Murder Seth.

  He’d forgotten one big component of this brilliant plan; getting his actual hands on Seth.

  He couldn’t fly.

  Damn it all to Hell and back! He was going to get back into the sky if it killed him or anyone else who got in his way.

  Being trapped here while that bastard Seth roamed free was out of the question. Seth was going down one way or another. He might not have his wings, but he was still an angel; still one of his father’s best creations; still smarter and much stronger than most of his brothers and sisters. Other angels lived among humans—they blended in—how hard could it be?

  Think, Af, think. He’d planned the destruction of entire cities: Sodom, Gomorrah, Pompeii, Atlantis . . . Surely he could adapt to flightless transportation. As he stood in the alley, the beginnings of a real plan started to come together. The first thing he needed was a location. Where was his quarry?

  Irina’s signal was moving again. She was coming north. There had to be a way to get to her. Walking was too slow. He’d never catch up to them that way. How did humans get around? Howling police sirens brought his head up as two black and white cruisers screamed past the alley. Yes, walking was too slow . . . but driving? That could work. Moving around to the driver’s side window, he peered into the van. He’d been inside vehicles before. They all had the same basic equipment, right? Steering wheel. Pedals for going and stopping. How hard could driving be?