The Rise of Babylon (Harem of Babylon Book 2)

by G. A. Rael

  "He already knows you're not human. At least if he sees you investigating, he might see you as an ally rather than a threat.”

  He had a point. Darren followed as Max walked toward the small gathering of perfectly dressed men and women. As they drew closer, he realized they were all wearing sunglasses and they all had long, light hair in shades ranging from platinum to spun gold. As Max and Darren grew closer, the cluster of strange guests began to disperse and head into the building.

  "Hey!" Max yelled. A woman in a high, tight ponytail looked back over her shoulder, but Lucas was suddenly in front of them, blocking the newcomers from view with his broad frame.

  "What do you two idiots think you're doing?"

  "Sorry, Uncle Lucas." Max's entire demeanor shifted and he took on an almost submissive posture Darren had never seen him exhibit around anyone, never mind Lucas. The mayor and his wife had never had children of their own, but Max was clearly his favorite progeny among the Danbridge clan. He had always been easier to find at Dabridge Hall than his own home.

  "We just wanted to talk to them," said Darren, feeling like a teenager at Lucas' doorstep again, bearing the brunt of judgment for whatever scheme his nephew had gotten them embroiled in. More often than not, Max had been the one corrupting him, but that argument had never held much sway with Lucas.

  Lucas looked between Darren and Max in silence and Darren couldn't help but feel like the man was assessing whether Darren knew his secret. Max shook his head ever-so-slightly and Darren pretended not to notice.

  "Is there some reason we shouldn't, Lucas?" Darren asked, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. "Talk to Chase's friends, I mean. I'm on the council, so I figured I should at least introduce myself."

  Lucas stared at him, his eyes even more golden in the sunlight. Staring him down in the light of day, Darren couldn't imagine how he had ever missed it. The mayor might have been wearing a suit of flesh for the moment, but he was undeniably a wolf.

  “You’d have to show up to the meetings for that to matter. You're on thin ice," Lucas said in a rumbling tone, stabbing his finger into Darren's chest. "So are the bride and groom. Being my wife's favorite pet won't be enough to protect Jordan if she brings any more chaos into this town. As for you, I might not have enough evidence to run you out of town, but that’s only because you haven’t given me a reason yet. Maybe Cold Creek needs a veterinarian with a track record of helping people more than it needs a meth addict with a history of beating his girlfriends, but the second you become more of a burden than an asset to this town, you're gone. Do I make myself clear?"

  Darren held his ground and hoped that he looked like a calm and collected adult rather than the shivering teenager he felt like inside. "Perfectly, sir."

  "Good," Lucas muttered, straightening his jacket. He had the kind of solid muscular bulk that formal wear just didn't quite know to accommodate without straining at the seams. "And show up for the damn council meetings. Trust me when I say you don't want to make it inconvenient for me to keep an eye on you."

  "They just became the highlight of my week."

  Lucas gave them both another stern look before lumbering off to find his wife.

  Once he was well out of earshot—at least, Darren hoped the length of the garden was out of earshot for a werewolf—Darren let out the breath he had been holding ever since Lucas had appeared in front of them. He stared at Max for a moment and he stared back before the two of them started laughing.

  "I fucking told you not to go after them," Darren said, half-furious and half-amused.

  "I didn't think he was watching," Max argued, choking on his laughter.

  "I don't think I've been that scared since you took his car on a joyride and told me he'd let you borrow it," he muttered.

  "Hey, I wanted to share the experience."

  "You just needed someone who could legally buy beer."

  "That, too," Max agreed, glancing over at the guests who were slowly but surely filing into the club. "That could've gone a lot worse."

  "I guess at least I don't have to worry about your uncle putting a bullet in my skull as long as I stay in line," he muttered.

  "Would that even work?"

  "No, but there are few problems a werewolf's teeth can't solve temporarily," came Samael's unmistakable voice.

  Darren spun around to see the angel standing there in a tux that would have made him look respectable, if not for the bolero tie he wore in place of an actual bow tie.

  "Look who finally showed," said Darren. "You're about thirty minutes too late to voice your objections to the blessed union.”

  "I made it here fast as I could," Samael said, folding his broad arms. "Kinda thought I could count on you to keep her from doing anything rash while I was away."

  "Trust me, this was plan B," said Darren. "And it worked."

  The angel cocked an eyebrow. "How's that?"

  "You're here, aren't you?"

  Samael frowned, looking between Darren and Max. "And how exactly do you factor into all this?”

  Max's eyes narrowed and for a moment, Darren was worried he was going to attack Samael. He wasn’t exactly sure what the outcome of a werewolf-versus-angel battle would be, but it couldn’t be pretty. “If you can’t figure that out, you probably don’t need to know.”

  "I can tell what you are plain as day, least as far as your breed is concerned," Sam said pointedly. "I'm just wonderin' how you're involved with our girl."

  "Max, this is Samael," Darren said quickly. "He's the one I told you about. You know, from up North?"

  “Yeah, I’m aware,” said Max.

  Samael gave Darren a dirty look and a heavy shove. "Just gonna have a chat with my buddy Darren, won't be a jiff," he said, pushing Darren toward the maze. "You told a werewolf who I am?"

  "Not just a werewolf," said Darren. "The werewolf."

  Samael cast a glance back at Max, who was watching them closely. He had no doubt Max could hear every word they were saying.

  "You mean that's the one who saved Jordan from the demon?"

  "And the one who sprang her out of the vault," he said. "It wasn't an attack. Jordan called to him.”

  "Bullshit, even a werewolf couldn't hear inside one of them things.”

  “It wasn’t an audible call, from the way they both tell it.”

  The angel's jaw clenched, but he finally stood down. “If that’s the wolf Jordan described, he’s no run-of-the-mill werewolf.”

  “Yeah, I know. He told me.”

  “I don’t suppose he also bothered to tell you why he saved Jordan?”

  “Give it a minute,” said Darren. “It’ll come to you.”

  Samael’s gaze drifted over to where Max was standing. The younger man smirked and gave him a sarcastic wave.

  “Number five?” Samael asked unhappily.

  “Yep.”

  That undid whatever composure Samael had left. He’d only been part of the picture for a few months, but he seemed more upset by the news than Darren or Chase had been. ”When?"

  "Last year, as soon as Jordan came into town."

  Samael scowled. “I take it he’s the one who killed all those people, too.”

  “It wasn’t his fault. The Moonstone messed with his head and Jordan was in danger. He wasn’t himself.”

  Samael squinted. “So now you’re defending him?”

  “We go way back,” Darren admitted. “And he took the fall for me with the mayor, which means you owe him by proxy.”

  Samael grunted. “Looks like Hermes finally has all his ducks in a row.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “You trust him?” Samael asked warily.

  “With my life,” said Darren. “Or at least, whatever I have left.”

  “Good enough for me, I suppose.” The angel seemed resigned, but not convinced.

  “Any luck finding Hermes?”

  “Why do you think I came back? He’s out in the car.”

  “Please tell me he didn’t succeed
in finding Lucifer.”

  “If he had, neither of us would be here,” Samael said darkly. “Come on, I don’t wanna leave him alone for this long.”

  “How were you able to convince him to come back, anyway?” Darren asked, following him toward the parking lot.

  “Who said anything about convincing?”

  Before Darren could ask what he meant, Max caught up with them. “I finally get to meet the prick who manipulated Jordan into selling her soul and bringing you back from the dead?”

  "I'd advise keepin' it brief and honorific," Samael said, looking over at him. “He's higher ranking than he lets on."

  “I’m not rolling onto my back for a demon anytime soon,” Max muttered as they came upon a classic golden convertible with huge fins and a pair of dice hanging from the window. It didn't take a second glance to know it was exactly the kind of car Samael would choose for a road trip.

  "Sweet ride, but where's Sylvester?" Max asked, peering into the empty vehicle.

  "Shit," Samael spat, rushing over to inspect the car, closer to panic than Darren had ever seen him. He grabbed the convertible hood and yanked it up to reveal a strange symbol carved into the top of the car. "He's gone."

  "You used a sigil to keep him locked in the car, didn't you?" asked Max.

  "Don't give me that sanctimonious tone, it shoulda worked," the angel grumbled, frantically scanning the area. "Dammit, he could be anywhere.”

  "Uh, guys?"

  Darren looked over his shoulder to find Max on the other side of the car, leaning over something. "I think this guy might have an idea of where he went."

  Darren rushed over to find a slender man in the country club's gray uniform lying on the ground beside the car. The only sign of injury was a small knot forming on the valet’s forehead and he was still breathing. As Darren looked him over, he began to come to.

  "Hermes can't have gotten far, this guy was just knocked out," said Darren.

  Samael knelt in front of the valet and grabbed him by the lapels, trying to shake him awake. "Hey, buddy, look at me!"

  "Easy, he's got a concussion,” Darren warned.

  The man groaned again, but Samael's less than medically responsible efforts succeeded in rousing him. "Hey, where'd he go?"

  "Who?" Samael demanded, touching the man’s forehead. The knot began to shrink immediately. "Who did you see?"

  "This guy, he was real pretty," the valet slurred. "Almost like a woman, he... He asked me to come over, said he couldn't get the top down and he'd owe me a huge favor if I could do it form him."

  Darren and Samael exchanged a knowing look. "I'm sure he did,” the angel said disdainfully. "Which way did he go?"

  "I dunno, I just got into the car and he —” The employee stopped as if catching himself and turned bright red. "I uh, I opened the top for him, it wasn't stuck or anything. Next thing I know, my head was flying into the steering wheel and I woke up to you shaking me."

  "That's real enlightening," Samael said, dropping him. "What's your name, kid?"

  "Jimmy."

  "Well, Jimmy, it would be better for you if you don't say anything about this. To anyone."

  Jimmy sat up, more clearheaded than he had been a moment ago. Darren would have offered to take him to the hospital, but he was grudgingly aware that Samael had done at least as much for him as a doctor would have.

  "I-I won't," Jimmy stammered, getting to his feet. He looked around nervously at all three of them. "I'm uh, not gay, y'know. He just —”

  "Hypnotized you?" Max offered dryly.

  "Yeah," Jimmy said, brightening as he staggered away from the car. "That's it, he hypnotized me," he mumbled to himself, wandering back over to the valet stand.

  "Well, at least now we know demons are smarter than angels," Max mused.

  Samael scowled.

  "So I'm assuming the fact that he's a demon means he could be anywhere," Max said, looking around. "Any idea where to start looking?"

  Darren fixed his gaze straight ahead on the country club. "Just one."

  "The reception,” Max muttered.

  "Hermes would never miss his chance for a grand entrance," Samael agreed, taking off in a straight line toward the building. Darren followed with Max close on his heels.

  "Is he a danger to Jordan?" asked the werewolf.

  Darren hesitated and so did Samael. "To her, no," Darren conceded. "To everyone else, yes."

  "He's pissed that I more or less hogtied him and dragged him across the border," Samael said, flinging open the door to the club. Even the lobby was decked out in lights, flowers and a banner that read, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wylde. " "I wouldn't put it past him to cross a few names off the guest list."

  Max's eyes met Darren's, frantic.

  "Go check on your aunts,” said Darren. “Try not to alert your uncle to the fact that Hermes is back.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but demons reek,” Max warned, disappearing into the small crowd that had gathered to enjoy the live band and unnecessarily extensive array of food.

  "Where’s Jordan?” Samael asked, scanning each face in the crowd. "I don't see her or Chase anywhere.”

  "Probably backstage," Darren muttered. "The bride and groom always have the first dance when they come out."

  "I'll check back there, you keep an eye on things out here. Make sure your dog doesn’t start yapping.”

  "I will," Darren said, irritated that Samael was better equipped to deal with Jordan's most pressing threat than he was. He noticed that the Wylde family friends in white were nowhere to be seen and remembered he had one more thing to fill the angel in on later.

  At least there was a full bar.

  Chapter 29

  Hermes

  All the marionettes were in their places while the puppetmaster watched from the rafters, tugging their strings in accordance with his every whim. The dead boy stayed behind while the angel flew off to rescue the princess, and the loyal little dog nipped closely at his heels. It was a brilliant play, but it got lonely watching the world from above sometimes. The royal subjects were getting antsy. The prince and princess were due to dance, soon. They were his favorite little puppets, of course. They always had been. That didn’t stop the bitterness from coiling through his heart like a thorny vine.

  Hermes sipped a martini, perched atop a long crossbeam in the country club's vaulted ballroom, adorned with soft yellow lights and ivy. The crow parted as the curtains did and the prince slipped through, leading his beloved by the hand. The demon considered himself a master of foresight, but even he hadn't quite anticipated what a beautiful bride she would be. Her brilliant white gown brought out the peach undertones of her skin in a way that made his mouth water for the taste of it.

  She thought herself sullied, but she was still so pure and she had so far yet to fall. It might be Chase's hand that guided her head against the pillow that night, but it was his that would soften the blow of that final fall from grace.

  As the newlyweds spun around the dance floor to a soft waltz, the demon tapped his foot in time to the song. Soon, vicarious satisfaction was not enough and he reappeared behind the curtain as the dance came to an end. His knights were dutiful in their service, but maneuvering around them could be cumbersome at best. He saw his chance when Chase was distracted by some imagined crisis his mother had drummed up with the caterer and slipped through the crowd of dancers, tapping Jordan's shoulder with a gloved hand.

  "May I have this dance?"

  The look on her face as she spun to face him was priceless. It was a look of shock that melted into pure rage, of course, but her anger was sweeter than any kiss. The epithet that escaped her pink lips was softer than any term of endearment. He caught her wrist as she raised her hand to slap him, and the fact that she thought she could endeared her to him in much the same way a kitten pawing at a lion might.

  "You have no right to be here," she seethed, her arm trembling as she strained against his light grasp.

  "I thought my
coming here was the entire point of the affair," he said innocently, slipping his hand around her waist and drawing her to him in an attempt to mask her resistance as a waltz. “Weren’t you trying to lure me in, after all?”

  She didn't seem to have an argument for that. Instead, she withdrew the tendrils of her rage inside of her and fell into step with the most grudging compliance.

  "You make a lovely bride," he said, certain she would take it as a quip. He saw no reason to correct her.

  "What, no joke about the white dress?"

  He smiled. "Humans put a lot of stock in the things that happen in between the first kiss and the honeymoon. I say what matters most is who ends up being your last.”

  She gave him a look that assured him his comment had gone far over her head. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

  He held her close and shielded her from view of Darren, making eye contact with the man across the room. He wouldn't interfere directly. He knew better. Even Samael did.

  "Samael came to find me in Caracas, but I was planning on coming back soon anyway," he explained.

  Jordan rolled her eyes like she didn't believe that either. “Well, you didn't need to. We're fine without you."

  "Is that so?" He struggled to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

  "What's so funny? It's the truth."

  "You know, I find it adorable when you say things meant to hurt me."

  She blinked, caught off-guard. "Why?"

  "Because it makes it painfully obvious that you care.”

  She didn't seem to know how to respond to that. He took advantage of her verbal incapacitation and pulled her head against his chest. She barely came up to it, even in heels.

  "I was going to get you a wedding present, but I didn’t have time, thanks to Samael,” he said, savoring the feeling of her relaxing against him, even if she was only putting up with it because she didn't want to make a scene. "Would you like a secret instead?"

  Her head lifted slightly and his fingers toyed with her curls. She really did remind him of a porcelain doll sometimes, soft and fragile. It was easy to forget what she truly was, even for him.

  He never forgot for long, though. Not fully.