Clay racked the shotgun and threw his shoulders back. I stared at him and swallowed. “You don’t have to do this.” I didn’t want to lose him. I couldn’t, not after Griffin. We were walking into a battle and I wasn’t stupid enough to think that we’d survive. Azazel wasn’t the kind of guy to let bygones be bygones. I had too many of the weapons he wanted and he had the one I needed.
He took a step closer. “You really think I’d do that? Bail on you now?”
“No. But I was hoping I could talk you into it.”
He slid his hand behind my head. “Sorry. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
I laughed nervously. “If this won’t shake you, I guess I’m stuck with you.”
“Guess so.” He pulled me against him and kissed me hard, then let me go. “Now let’s go get that sword.”
We marched through the gate and stopped ten feet from the back of the van. I tipped my chin up and yelled, “You’ve kept me waiting long enough!”
“Evangeline.” Harrold’s voice cut through the night and he appeared from the corner of the building, then walked toward the van, stopping beside it. “We meet again.”
“I said no minions.” I was done screwing around and I’d meant what I’d told Matty. We were through with the games.
He laughed. “You know that’s impossible. Azazel would not need what he’s seeking if he were free to meet with you.”
I crossed my arms. “I’ll wait.”
Silence stretched across the night. I wasn’t about to change my position. The next move was his.
“Remember two things,” Harrold said quietly. “You asked for this. And we gave you the opportunity to work for the right team.”
I didn’t bother to respond.
“Suit yourself.” He turned to the van and pushed it as if it were a child’s toy, sending it skidding sideways past the last door. It rocked up on the far wheels, then crashed down with a shudder. I returned my attention to him, hiding the fear and surge of adrenaline racing through my body. Matty still didn’t emerge and I had no idea where he’d gone or where the sword was. Clay stepped closer to me.
Harrold turned to face us and lifted his arms, palms up, then raised them in a sweeping, controlled motion. All three doors rolled up, revealing a black-clad army, the sinister mirror image of the one behind me.
Flat black armor, shielded faces, unearthly sharp weapons.
Now I understood Metatron’s warning with crystal clarity. If these two armies clashed, nothing would remain.
The army marched forward in perfect uniformity, stopping behind him. “As I told you, Azazel couldn’t make our little tête-à-tête tonight, but he sent someone.”
“I said no minions,” I repeated myself. The men Azazel had corrupted couldn’t speak for him, couldn’t truly act on his behalf. They could do despicable things, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted someone who held the power to give me Griffin’s soul, or at least the sword. I wanted a way to prevent the holy war, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice Griffin’s eternity.
The dark angel stepped forward and removed his helmet. Silken black hair spilled down his shoulders and he looked straight through me with startling green eyes. My jaw dropped at the unmatched beauty of his face. I blinked and inhaled deeply. He pushed his hair back and I narrowed my eyes to study the incongruence, glancing again at the hand to figure out what had caught my attention. He saw my glance and held his hand out to me, opening the palm, twisting it, then closing the gnarled, disfigured vestige.
I quickly studied the rest of the army, noting their similarities, both in beauty and disfigurement. Each one had model-worthy faces, but they were like models who’d been in horrific car wrecks on their way to a photo shoot and then horribly put back together. Most had gnarled arms, fingers, limbs. It was a brilliant distortion of our earthly ideas of beauty. I yanked my attention back to the one beside Harrold.
“Evangeline,” Harrold said with a wicked smile. “I’d like to introduce Lucifer.”
Chapter Twenty-three
I didn’t fear him. Odd, I know, but the effect of having Lucifer here had the opposite effect and infused me with a sudden rush of confidence. Azazel wouldn’t have sent his partner if they didn’t believe that we had a chance of succeeding. If they thought we were going to fail, they’d have waited patiently for it to happen, then they’d have collected the relics, and continued on with their disturbed mission. For them, as for me, the stakes were incredibly high. Azazel was worried.
I smiled. He should be, because he was going to lose.
“He’s truly imprisoned, Evangeline,” Lucifer said, his velvet voice a match for his perfectly curved lips. “But Azazel did agree that you deserved the respect of a face-to-face meeting.” He bowed. “I do hope I’ll suffice in his stead.”
“Sure. Give me what I want.”
He smiled and I got caught up in the striking beauty of it, like when a billboard catches my eye and I’m forced to appreciate a work of art.
“We’re evenly matched,” he said. “You have one weapon, I have one. We both want the third.”
Holy shit. He didn’t know that I’d just given the sword to Metatron. I managed to hide my shock and clenched my fists. We still had work to do here and I wanted him to know that he couldn’t bully me. “I don’t make deals.”
“Yes, I thought you might say that.”
“Then what’s your counter-offer?”
He grinned. “You’re a brilliant girl, truly a worthy adversary.” He said it with a sense of wonderment, as if he’d not expected me.
I doubted that would afford me any allowances, but it infused my confidence another notch.
“The trouble is, you don’t understand this game you’ve been playing.”
“This isn’t a game to me.” It was deadly serious. One I was willing to die for, one that Griffin had already given all that he could. It pissed me right off that he would dismiss it so flippantly. This probably was nothing more than a stupid weekend playoff game to them. What did they care if their wars wiped us out? That was what they wanted anyway, to go back to the beginning when they were responsible for populating the earth with their own giant offspring. The sooner the game started, the sooner they could get back to life the way they wanted it.
“It is a game, Lina. A God game. If you don’t understand that, then who are you to play at this level? We”—he tapped three long gnarled fingers to his chest, then spread his arms to encompass the mass of demons standing behind him—“we have played this game with Himself for millennia. But this time, we have nothing to lose. What about you?”
I refused to feel the fear he wanted to instill in me. “If that’s your best threat, it’s weak.” I took a step forward. “See, you think that having nothing to lose is what makes you the best player, because you’ve truly never had anything worth losing. You may think that your power, your freedom … that those things are worth losing, but you don’t have a clue. I’ve known your power, the heady rush of being on top of the world, knowing that I’ve conquered every fear, every evil, every challenge, but that’s nothing—nothing compared to the rush that comes from being loved—loved by a soul mate.”
I laughed and looked him straight in his beautiful face, then met the gazes of the other demons. “Soul mates require a soul. An essence of goodness, of rightness. You’ve missed out on that and let me tell you, that’s a tragedy. Maybe having loved ones gives me liabilities, makes me vulnerable, because now I have so, so much to lose, but you’re wrong. So very wrong.”
He sniffed and the demons let out a low laugh.
I continued, embracing the truth of what I’d just realized. “Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s the soldier who has everything to lose that will expend it all on the battle field to save her loved ones.” I stood up straighter, feeling the weight and power of the angels behind me, as well as the physical force of the love extended by my most precious people—both living and dead. I so did not want to start another holy war. And I wa
sn’t sure he did either. They’d lost massively the last time, and we still had a relic to find, one Azazel desperately needed. One we both needed with a fierce desperation. “I’ve come for one thing. Give me Griffin’s soul and we can both walk away to fight another day.”
He laughed, and it was the deep bass of a thousand church bells. Lucifer looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re something else, Evangeline. Our common Father knows the greatness in you. It’s why he afforded you the angels who stand behind you. But what’s different, what sets you apart from all the others, is that you see your own greatness. Few do, and it seems a shame to waste a treasure such as you.” He chuckled again. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, women like you—the ones who know their worth—they’re incorruptible. I can’t touch them. Can’t even get close. But”—he brushed his fingernails across his chest and examined them—“enamored as I am with you, I reject your terms.”
I raised my arm and felt the army behind me tense. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my blade and I smiled, mocking him with his own comment.
“Suit yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-four
I looked over at Clay. He nodded, tension etching across his face. I didn’t know how this night would end. We had one relic left to find. I was trying to negotiate with the devil, for God’s sakes, and now I had an army of angels behind me and an army of demons in front of me.
“You do know that if we start ourselves a war here, Lucifer, that there is a chance your pal Azazel will never be released from his prison, and isn’t it true then that your legion here will never actually reign? Is that a chance you’re willing to take? If we go our separate ways and continue to ‘play the game’—as you so eloquently put it—we’re on equal footing. Isn’t that the fairest way to play a game, or do you always have to cheat to win? If we war tonight and your legion loses, then I can only assume that all will be lost for you. But, let’s say you take us all out. Let’s say you win. But do you really win? I’m under the impression that I may be the only one who can find what we all seek. I mean, if your minions are so good at their job, why haven’t they pieced it all together? Why is your BFF still imprisoned?”
Lucifer stared at me, amusement and hatred gleaming in his eyes.
“I have a point, don’t I?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I really do like you. I can so understand why Griffin fell in love with you. You’ll be joining us soon enough, Evangeline.” He laughed then, like he liked the thought of playing a bit longer. “Why the hell not? Let’s keep playing the game.”
He turned around and faced his army. With the snap of his fingers they all disappeared but I felt they were all still right there, just unseen.
I turned and faced the glorious angels that Metatron had sent me. The light within them had increased. They’d indeed had my back for this war and I was grateful. “I think it’s safe for you to go home now.”
The light intensified further until that’s all it was—one glorious light, and then they, too, were gone.
I dropped to my knees. Clay came over and crouched beside me. “You just negotiated with the devil, Lina. That was insane.” He took my hands in his and the warmth of human hands filled me as I fell into him.
“I’d like to go get a drink. I don’t think this game is going to get any easier. Something tells me that the rules just changed.”
He nodded, stood, and reached for my hand.
I smiled up at him. “You still in? I mean, after all that?”
“You’re kidding, right? Are you still in?”
“Yeah. I’m still in.”
“Come on, partner. I’ll buy you that drink.”
Follow Lina and Clay on the next adventure in The Lucifer Legion, COMING SOON!
Extras
Also available:
The Dead Celeb
An Evie Preston/Grey Tier Book 1
by Michele Scott (AKA—A.K. Alexander)
(read on for a sample)
Chapter One
MY NAME IS EVIE PRESTON and I hang out with dead rock stars. Oh, and the occasional dead movie star or two. I’ve learned quite a bit about those who live on the other side over the past few months. For instance, they aren’t all ghostly and transparent. Oh no. The ones I see are almost always in full- color and 3-D except when they exert, ah...certain energies. Then they go a bit hazy. Oh, and they prefer to be called spirits.
Yeah, I know...I sound completely insane. Like, “commit me” insane. But honestly, I am not crazy. Believe me, the first time I saw Bob Marley in my place (well, technically not my place, but I’ll get to that) in the Hollywood Hills, getting high and singing “Buffalo Soldier,” I thought I was either dreaming, hallucinating, or, yes, completely nuts. Thankfully, it was none of the above. In fact, Bob is a very real, very dead guy who likes to hang out with me, along with a handful of other deceased, famous rock musicians (and a few who never quite made the charts, one of whom I’ve recently developed feelings for—more about him later). So, not only do I hang out with dead rock stars, I also think I am in love with one, or at least in lust… which makes me totally screwed up. But I am not crazy. I swear.
Before I go any further, though, I need to take you back a few months to the day after my twenty-eighth birthday. Welcome to Brady, Texas—population 5,500—and, according to the sign on the main road into town, “The Heart of Texas.” Truth be told, the signs were everywhere. Signs, that is, telling me to get the hell out of Brady.
I was at Mrs. Betty LaRue’s place. Her house smelled of Tide, home cooking, and mothballs. Betty was comforting me over the dismal turnout of my Mary Kay presentation—my latest attempt at becoming an entrepreneur—which she’d kindly hosted.
We were drinking apple-cranberry tea, with her Lhasa Apso,
Princess, curled in a ball under Betty’s chair, and my dog (of indeterminate breed...possibly part-coyote and part-lab, with a dash of border collie in there), Mama Cass, across my feet. I loved how Betty always let me bring Cass in the house. My dog went everywhere with me, but not everyone was as gracious about her presence as Betty.
“I really thought this would go much better,” I said, bringing the warm cup of tea to my lips.
Betty smiled sympathetically, the fine lines in her eighty- something face creasing deeper into her skin, “Oh, honey, I don’t know what happened to my girls today. I am so sorry. I thought there’d be at least ten of us. They all love my snickerdoodles. But you know how some of us old gals are; we forget things.” She twirled a yellow-white wisp of curled hair around her finger. The rest of it was pulled up into a loose bun (or chignon as Mama calls it). She’d obviously been in to see my mother that morning for her weekly hair appointment.
I nodded. “It’s okay, Betty. Thanks for hosting anyway, and the cookies were delicious. Three isn’t such a bad turnout.” Thing was, only Betty bought anything. Her friends, Margaret and Hazel, came for the cookies and samples. “And I made about ten dollars, so that will buy me a couple of meals. You’ll love that anti-wrinkle cream, by the way.”
Betty ran a hand over her face and laughed sweetly. “Child, ain’t nothing gonna work on this face now. And I’m proud of these lines. I earned them.”
I laughed back. “So you only bought the cream because you felt sorry for me?” Cass’s ears perked up and she lifted her head to peer at me.
Betty sighed. “Evie Preston, I have known you since you started kicking up a fuss in your mama’s belly.” She winked at me. “I’ve watched you try so hard to be exactly what your mama and daddy wanted, especially after all that bad business. And there was that unfortunate situation with—” She paused. “What was his name?”
She brought her cup to her lips, her hand shaking ever so slightly. I sighed, knowing exactly what bad business she was referring to. As for the unfortunate situation, he was the star quarterback my senior year and the lucky recipient of my virginity. Sadly, he was also the jerk who then decided to share the news with the en
tire town. Thank God my mother was able to intercept that little tidbit before it reached my father’s ears.
Betty waved her free hand in the air as if to brush the painful thoughts away. “I know you were hoping to be a good Texas girl and marry a good Texas boy and have babies and run a family like your folks did, not because you really wanted it,” she said, shaking a finger at me. “But because your parents wanted it for you. And now, my dear,” Betty leaned over and gave me one of her rare, stern looks. “It’s high time you stopped pretending and started living!”
“What do you mean?”
“You got a God-given talent. You need to get out there and do something with it.”
She tried to set the tea cup down on the side table and almost missed. I grabbed it and set it down for her. Betty beamed at me. “Thank you, honey! Always so polite.”
I looked down at my dog, licking the unpolished toes peeking out of the only pair of high-heeled sandals I owned. “Fact is, Betty, I know I’m good, but there are a lot of good musicians out there.” I dejectedly twirled the ends of my long, baby-fine hair. Mama always said God hadn’t been paying close attention when it came time to give me hair. It was stick straight, dark brown, and silky. I couldn’t do a darn thing with it, except put it into ponytails.
Betty waved her hand again. “Nonsense!” Placing her hands on the sides of her chair, she slowly pushed herself up to a stand and ambled over to the white brick mantle. She grabbed an envelope and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your birthday was yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“You remembered?”
She frowned. “I may be old, Evie, but I don’t forget birthdays. Especially when they’re for people I care about.”
The God Game: Evangeline Heart Book 2 (Evangeline Heart Adventures) Page 9