by G. A. Rael
"You're different," she murmured, clutching his open jacket just in case he dropped her. Something in the way he held her in his gentle but unyielding grasp told her that wasn't a possibility.
"Tell me about it," he said bitterly.
"People are staring, Sam,” she whispered. "Let me up."
He glanced around. "I don't think they're doin' much of anything."
When Jordan followed his gaze, she realized everyone was frozen. "What the hell did you do to them?"
"They'll be fine," he said. "I just put 'em on pause for a bit."
"Why?"
"So I could do this," Samael answered, slipping his hand behind her head. Before she could even process his words, his lips claimed hers. The kiss was unlike any she had experienced. It wasn't slow or gentle or sensuous. It was desperate, rough around the edges and full of passion.
Just like the giver.
The most alarming thing about the kiss wasn't the ferocity of it or the fact that it happened at all. It was that Jordan found herself returning it, her hands combing his oak brown hair. Even as her mind hurled all kinds of harsh but appropriate accusations at her, she couldn't stop. Something in that kiss held her in its spell as surely as he held her in his sturdy arms.
Just like a tornado, the kiss was over as unexpectedly as it had begun. Samael kept her in his arms even after he put her back on her feet, which was good because her head was spinning and she didn't at all trust the way her entire body tingled as if it had fallen asleep.
"What the hell was that?” she asked breathlessly. More importantly, why had she taken part in it?
"Confirmation," he said curtly. To her surprise, he wasn't at all triumphant or cocky like she had expected.
"Confirmation of what?"
He took a step away from her and scratched the stubble he couldn't be bothered to shave even for a formal event. "This ain't good."
"Will you tell me what's going on?" Jordan demanded, following him to the edge of the dance floor. His long strides would have been difficult to keep up with even in normal shoes, but the heels Hermes had picked out for Jordan weren't doing her any favors. "You owe me an explanation after that!"
"I owe you jack," Samael spat, turning on her.
Jordan stopped abruptly. His sharp tone was a wall thrown up between them before she had time to dodge it. “Sam…”
"This is just bullshit," he muttered, shaking his head as he paced back down the narrow aisle on the dance floor. He plucked a wine glass from a man whose head was thrown back in suspended laughter and drank it all in one shot before tossing the glass over his shoulder.
Jordan followed him, finally reaching out for his arm. When she succeeded in stopping him, she realized she had no further plan. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what happened since the last time you came here. Did you get demoted again?"
He gave a bitter laugh, wiping a few purple drops of wine from his lips. "That ain't the half of it. I swear, if you knew how much trouble you've caused. Thousands upon thousands of years of perfect, divine order, thrown into chaos by one silly little witch."
She frowned. “It’s been what, a few weeks? Heaven can’t have changed that much.”
"I wasn't talking about Heaven, I was talking about me," he snapped, stabbing his chest with his thumb. "Yours truly, Chief Watcher of the dead who rise, the go-to authority on efficient celestial transport since before the separation between the ocean and the sky was a thing, taken out by a pint-sized pagan and her damned cat."
The color drained from Jordan's face. "They found out you helped me, didn’t they?”
“Helped you?” he laughed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Oh, that’s rich. The time for helping you passed long before we ever met, Jordan. We’re both royally fucked, just in different ways.”
“Sam!” Jordan cried, running after him as he started down the walk that led into the garden’s labyrinth.
Jordan tossed her heels aside and ran after him, oblivious to the broken shards of glass that dug into her soles. “Sam, wait!" Jordan had no more idea what had come over her than him, but she felt an irresistible call to go after him. His absence had been just a fact of life moments earlier, but suddenly the idea of him leaving was unbearable.
“I said stop!” she seethed, throwing her hand out. A transparent force rushed from her hand without her consciously doing anything, visible only in the waves of distortion it created in the air. The force hit Samael enough to stagger him, but Jordan’s fear that she’d harmed him was short-lived.
He turned back to look at her with a blank expression that made him look less like himself now than he had in another man’s skin. “Telekinesis,” he muttered. “That’s new, isn’t it?”
Jordan nodded stiffly, still staring at her own hand in disbelief. She remembered what Hermes had told her, about each consort unlocking a new ability, but a kiss could hardly be enough to bring a new power to the surface. Then again, if the power that correlated to Samael was as illogical and strong as her conflicted feelings toward him, anything was possible.
“You’re progressing quickly,” Samael said in a defeated tone. “Won’t be long now.”
“Won’t be long until what?” she demanded, barely recovered from her shock.
"They're coming, Jordan," he said gravely. "Tonight, before this gets any more outta hand, they're coming to kill you and everyone else will be collateral damage."
"Who?" she asked, feeling like she was running on half capacity.
"The whole marching band," he muttered. "It goes against the timeline, but they've been authorized to move forward considering the extenuating circumstances. Can't let a demon keep calling the shots now that the Apocalypse is already in motion."
“They can’t! Cold Creek is protected. Hermes —”
“Hermes don’t know shit,” he growled. “I told you, we figured out a way to breach the ward. Only thing holding Michael back before was the chaos the Moonstone would unleash if we attacked, but there’s been a change of plans.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The plans angels laid were concerning enough without being unpredictable.
“The potential casualties from the Moonstone’s activation were deemed acceptable under one circumstance,” Samael answered, emotionless. “As long as it’s the final battle.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “Armageddon? But that’s… That’s not possible! Yeah, I haven’t exactly kept up on my Bible reading, but there’s other stuff that has to happen first.”
“Don’t matter. The timeline’s been moved up. The risk of the other side winning was declared too great to let things proceed according to plan, so Michael’s been granted authority to get creative.”
“By who?” Jordan cried.
Samael raised his eyebrows and jerked his head toward the sky.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“You got friends in low places, baby doll. Enemies in high ones.”
Jordan swallowed hard. All her life, she’d been convinced she was God’s least favorite creature, but knowing he was literally out to get her seemed too far-fetched to be real.
“This can’t be true,” she said, overcome by numbness. “There has to be a way to stop it.”
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to hand over that Moonstone and save us the trouble of ripping Cold Creek apart to find it?"
"Go to hell, Sam.”
He smirked. "Didn't think so."
“Why are you here?” she hissed. “What the fuck was tonight about, if you’re just planning on letting them kill everyone, me included?”
The angel’s face grew sullen. “Tonight was about getting an answer,” he muttered.
“An answer to what?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have it.”
With that, Samael disappeared without a trace. The moment he was gone, time picked up as usual and the wind rustled the leaves in the hedges lining the labyrinth. Jordan staggered deeper into the maze, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind
her. She barely made it over to a bench before she collapsed.
"Hermes," she cried, too weak to be fully audible. “Hermes!” Her second try was only slightly more successful.
The demon appeared in the maze nonetheless, tearing off his mask and running to her when he saw the blood. "What happened?" he demanded, already starting to pick the glass from her flesh. “The heels weren’t that bad.”
“Samael came here to gloat,” she said urgently. “Michael is coming. They found a way through the ward and they’re coming for the Moonstone. The final battle is tonight. We have to get these people out of here.”
The humor drained entirely from his face. "They're coming now?"
"Yes," she said, watching him intently. "Why don't you seem more surprised?"
"I never put anything past an angel."
"We have to evacuate everyone," she said, partially recovering from the shock. Or maybe she was just numb.
"There's no time," Hermes murmured, sweeping his hands over her feet. Jordan winced as shards fell onto the pavement and Hermes slipped the short heels back onto her feet before he rose. "Your pumpkin is about to turn into an atomic bomb. Fortunately, this is a masquerade party, so that might buy us a little time to run."
"Run?" she asked in disbelief, standing. The pain was gone and so were the wounds. "We can't just run; everyone I love is here."
"And if you stay, Michael and the Trumpets of Judgment won't hesitate to blow them all away if it means getting to you."
“I can’t just leave! We have to fight!”
“Fight?” he scoffed. “When a lion fights a tiger, it’s a fight. When a kitten fights a lion, it’s an appetizer.”
“Then what the hell have you been training me for?” she demanded.
“I’ve been training you to survive,” Hermes answered without missing a beat. “You want to protect everyone out there? Get as far away from them as possible. Otherwise, they’re all just shields and the angels won’t hesitate to strike them down to get to you.”
Jordan hesitated, but he was right. The angels were coming for her, but once again, there was nothing she could do to stop them from hurting the innocent people around her other than run. At least this time she had the choice.
"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to keep up with him.
"We're making a pit stop in Cold Creek for the Moonstone, then we're getting out of here. I don't know where, but far. Bali, the Antares Galaxy, Nirvana if we really want to be safe."
"At least let me find Darren!"
Hermes glanced back at her, arching a sleek eyebrow. "I think you mispronounced your fiancé's name."
Jordan's face glowed with shame. "I need to find both of them, and Mrs. Herrin."
"Add Tina and Cindy and the whole town while we're at it," he said, rolling his eyes. "Trust me, the further they all are from you, the safer they are."
"But Darren is undead," she protested, finally wrenching out of his grasp. "They'll kill him."
Hermes' eyes narrowed. "Darren might have been the first shot fired, but the Horns are the heavy artillery. One little zombie means absolutely nothing now. When we raised Darren from the dead, it could have started the Apocalypse. Once Michael shows up to the party, there's no turning back. Right now, the Moonstone is our one shot at getting out of here alive.”
She hesitated before taking it. As his fingers brushed hers, the entire labyrinth began to tremble with a low blaring sound that seemed to be coming from far away and from everywhere at once. Jordan could only cover her ears as the heavenly roar was joined by no less than a half dozen others. Hermes grabbed her and pulled her to his side as confused murmurs from the garden turned into screams. If it hadn't been for his firm grasp, she would have collapsed from the sound alone.
The demon covered her ears and when his hands fell away, the indistinct roar transformed into the crisp sound of roughly a dozen trumpets blaring a song of victory in the distance.
"It's them?" she asked, barely able to hear her own voice over the sound. Hermes had made the sound more bearable, but it was still unfathomably loud.
"Yes."
“Then why are we still here? We have to move.”
"I can't," he said in a dull tone.
"Why not?"
The demon simply pointed up. Jordan turned her gaze toward the stars, brilliantly illuminated in the rural setting. It was a beautiful sight, but there was something off about it. Something uncanny. When she realized what it was, she covered her mouth to stifle a scream. "The stars are different. What happened to them?"
"The angels have turned the sky into an etch-a-sketch to make a Solomonic circle," he muttered. "I'm bound within its parameters."
"They rearranged the stars?"
"Like I said. Never put anything past an angel."
"What do we do?"
"I'm trapped here, but you're not. Stay here. I'll get Chase and he'll take you to the Moonstone. Bring it back here pronto and we might just stand a chance."
“Chase? How would he know where it is if you haven't even told me?"
“Attorney-client privilege," Hermes said with a wink before disappearing.
Jordan stood staring up at the sky in a mixture of awe and disgust. Orion's belt wasn't where it should have been. The trumpets stopped as suddenly as they had started and the earth was still once more. It was anyone's guess as to whether or not that was a good thing.
A moment later, Hermes appeared dragging Chase by the arm. He grabbed Jordan and the next instant, they were on the edge of the club's parking lot, just out of view of the few dozen guests who had understandably decided to leave early. "Hurry."
Chase was already opening the passenger side door and pushed Jordan inside. Apparently, his chivalry extended even to the Apocalypse. Without a word, he started up the sleek black convertible he had recently traded his Mercedes in for.
"Oh, and Tinker Bell?" Hermes called from next to the car.
To Jordan's surprise, Chase responded immediately if grudgingly to the nickname. "Yes?"
"If you let them harm a hair on her head, I will rip you apart piece by piece and put you back together again until I get bored and set the pieces on fire," Hermes said coolly. "But you already know that, don't you?"
Chase set his jaw but said nothing. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, taking off into the grass to avoid the mounting traffic jam in the driveway.
Jordan turned around to see the demon growing distant in the rear window, his hands slipped casually into the pockets of his designer suit as if he hadn't a care at the end of the world.
Jordan turned to face Chase while casting surreptitious glances up at the sky. "You wanna explain what that was back there? Or how you know where the Moonstone is?"
"It's not a good time," Chase said simply, coming to a complete stop and flipping on his turn signal at the stop sign.
"There might not be a good time, period," she protested. "It's the Apocalypse."
"Yes," he agreed casually, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he slowly pressed the gas pedal. "Looks like it."
Chapter Ten
Darren
Darren scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of Jordan—or the Lone Ranger, for that matter—and there hadn't been for the last twenty minutes. He instantly regretted letting her go off with him. Even if she had seemed glad to see the man, there was no telling what kind of monster he was if he’d known Jordan from her days as Alyssa.
Darren saw Chase talking with some corporate type by the bar and stalked after him. "There's the man of the hour. Got a minute?"
Chase glanced over, clearly less than enthused about the interruption. "Actually, I was in the middle of a discussion with a colleague, Dr. St. Clair. Our local dog whisperer," he said as an aside to his companion.
"It involves Jordan," Darren said pointedly.
"Of course it does."
Darren frowned. "It's urgent."
That changed his tune. Concern flickered on Chase
’s porcelain mask for only an instant, but it seemed real enough to Darren. "Excuse me for a moment, Roland," he said, touching the man's arm. When Roland was out of earshot, Chase turned back to Darren. "Is Jordan alright?"
"That depends on who the oversized redneck she took off with about half an hour ago is," he replied. "Says he knew Jordan from before. Any idea who he is?"
The way Chase’s pupils shrunk gave him away even as he said, "No idea. Where did they go?"
"They were on the dance floor one moment, and the next it was like they just disappeared," said Darren.
Chase’s sharp eyes narrowed. "Thank you for bringing the situation to my attention, Darren. I'll take it from here," he said, turning to walk away.
"Oh no," Darren said, falling in step with him. "I'm coming with you. I trust you only slightly more than I trust the corn-fed giant Jordan ran off with. As a matter of fact, I think you know exactly who he is."
"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you," Chase replied, scanning the crowd.
"I'm hurt, Chase. And here I thought the new you was a team player.“
Chase froze and looked back at Darren with an expression of pure malice. It was the most human side he had shown in years. Darren crossed his arms and watched the man carefully. "Did I strike a nerve?"
"Watch yourself."
"That sounds dangerously like a threat," Darren said, clicking his tongue. "And here I was finally starting to believe you'd turned over a new leaf."
"I have. That doesn't mean I have to put up with you."
"See, I think it does. I think you put up with a lot of things you really don't want to, but I don't know why," said Darren. "I'm willing to bet it has something to do with the personality swap you went through back in senior year, though. In fact, I'd wager my soul on that. You still have the warranty, don't you? Five carats isn't bad. A little ostentatious, perhaps, and it's not really to Jordan's taste, but at least now we'll all know you're overcompensating. The question is, for what?"
"What is it that you want, Darren?" Chase asked, finally coming to a stop in a secluded corner of the garden. "Because you said you wanted to find Jordan, but it seems like you're more interested in picking a fight with me."