“And,” she bit out with a glare, “he’s been spending time after hours in a lab at Stanford University.”
Achanelech rose from the bed and shrugged. “So, how does that prove he’s a threat? Besides, I thought Forrester was only assigned one portion of the vaccine development. Isn’t that why we chose to use multiple laboratories? To prevent exactly that? Discovery and interference from the Angelorum? What’s the connection?”
“Well . . .” She snatched a pair of gold hoops from her dressing table, and threaded them through her earlobes. “I’ll tell you, but you’d better not go off and do anything rash. Promise?”
He snarled and grabbed his socks from the bed. “Oh, for Lucifer’s sake, just tell me.” Swearing under his breath, his claws snagged the inside of the Kevlar casings as he eased his feet down to the reinforced toes. Emanelech suppressed a smile at the entertaining routine he repeated every morning. If he’d only put in the extra effort to learn an enhanced transformation spell, he wouldn’t still be plagued with this problem. Demon men, a stubborn lot.
“Turns out the scientist he ran to at Stanford for help? Angelorum.”
“Not exactly newsworthy, Em. You said as much already,” he said, slipping on his suit jacket.
She gave him her back, a smile creeping onto her lips as she toed her way into a pair of stilettos. She’d saved the best part for last. “Would it be newsworthy for you to know that she’s Eae’s daughter?”
Silence. Then a low chortle rose from Achanelech’s throat a moment before his arms encircled her from behind. “Sometimes you actually do make my day.” He hissed softly into her ear, his forked tongue teasing her earlobe before he deposited a wet kiss on her neck. A pleasurable quiver traveled through her.
Turning to face him, she locked her gaze onto his coal-black eyes. She swore she could see the wheels spinning wildly behind them. Lucifer knows, left to his own devices, he could screw up her plans. “Like I said, don’t do anything rash. Our source believes they may be close to developing the vaccine, the whole vaccine, not just the Forrester piece. So, whatever, you do—promise me you won’t kill them. If they succeed, this will put us way ahead of schedule and win us favor with Luc.”
“Yet. I won’t kill them yet. But after they finish their work . . .” He grinned with evil glee. “Eae’s child will make a very nice down payment on what Eae owes me.”
Emanelech squirmed out of his grasp. “There’s one thing that bothers me about this . . .”
“What’s that?”
She brushed her hair back, and secured it into a high ponytail. “According to our source, she’s human and not part of an assigned Trinity.”
A deep frown cut across Achanelech’s forehead. “That’s odd. What would one of Eae’s children be doing here of all places?”
“She left the Angelorum about fifteen years ago to pursue an education in the sciences. It’s not uncommon to take a sabbatical in the private sector. Coincidence, maybe?”
“Ha! Never. But you bring up a valid point. How did your source find out about this?”
“Didn’t say specifically. But mentioned a second copy of the Nephilim Genomic Map was recently checked out of the Angelorum scientific archives, and that we could expect a breakthrough shortly.”
Achanelech rubbed his palms together, wearing a sudden look of delight as he walked toward his cane stand with a near imperceptible limp. An affliction he blamed on Eae. “Ah, the poetic justice that awaits.”
“Ac-chieee,” Emanelech warned. “You promised. Nothing foolish, remember?”
He glared at her and puffed out his chest. “Foolish? Never. Calculated? Always . . .”
Chapter 18
ISA
San Jose, California.
ISA STOOD CLOAKED, leaning against the Country Day School fence and scanning the children’s faces until he found the one he sought. She stood alone while a group of boys kicked a ball past her, and the other children occupied themselves on a swing set and the remaining playground amusements.
Slender and tall for a child of three-and-one-half years, her long, silky blonde hair fell around her face as she reached down to pick up something from the ground. His eyes honed in on her hand. A small turtle lay cradled in her palm.
“Sara, what did you find?” the young teacher asked as she approached.
Sara held out her hand. “Can we keep him?”
The teacher furrowed her brow. “Hmm.” Then she laid her hand on the child’s shoulder, and turned to one of the teacher’s aides, “Crystal, Sara and I are going to check on the old terrarium and see if we have any turtle food left.”
Crystal gave them a smile and nodded.
Unfurling his wings, Isa flew in silently behind them as they entered the low-roofed building. Slipping in the door before it closed, he followed them back to the classroom.
“Let me check the supply closet,” the teacher said, opening a large wooden door and flipping on the light.
Standing outside the teacher’s line of sight, Isa dropped his cloak.
The child stopped stroking the tiny shell with her fingertip and looked up, her gaze infused with deep intelligence.
A smile crept onto Isa’s lips as he recognized his old friend behind her eyes.
“Miss Jessica,” she yelled, without looking away. “I need to go potty. I’ll be back.”
Isa cloaked as the teacher peered out the door holding the terrarium. “Do you want to leave your little friend in here?”
Sara smiled and surrendered her small pet to the teacher, and then headed toward the bathroom while Isa followed. Turning on the light, she left the door ajar long enough for Isa to slip inside.
As she turned the lock, he reappeared and dropped to one knee. The child threw her arms around his neck.
“It’s so good to see you, old friend,” Isa said, pulling her closer.
“And you, Ishmael,” she replied in a child’s voice. “Living through this period of human development always makes me feel so . . . helpless.”
Isa chuckled. “An Angel Who Thwarts Demons is never helpless, no matter the form. Think of it as an unexpected advantage against your opponent.”
“Rescuing turtles is my greatest strength at the moment,” she said, smiling precociously. Crossing her arms over her chest, she paced and shook her head, her demeanor transforming well beyond her years. “Does Eae know that I’m here?”
“No. It was Hope who sent me. She saw you in a vision . . .” Isa pointed to the indentation over the child’s lip and frowned. “I don’t understand . . . you’re marked.” The human angels of the Angelorum were born without a philtrum, a sign that Layela, the Night Angel, didn’t erase their memories of prior lives and, more importantly, of Heaven, on their soul’s journey to birth.
Sara gave him a wry smile, and touched her lip. “My father’s stepfather is a plastic surgeon. He fixed my lip when I was an infant. My parents thought it was a birth defect.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Sara, honey? Are you all right, do you need any help?” her teacher asked.
“No, I’m good,” she yelled through the door, the tone of her voice returning to that of a guileless child, and then her blue eyes locked on Isa. “We don’t have much time. You’ve come for a reason?”
“Would you like me to deliver you to Eae?”
She gave her head a sharp shake. “Not yet. Not until after the First is Called. I must stay hidden until then.”
“I understand. This will help.” Isa slid the amulet over his head from underneath his shirt, and handed her the stone on the silver chain. “Hope said you must wear this.”
The child gasped and her eyes widened. “This is Eae’s.”
Isa nodded. “Yes. She gave it to me when I accompanied Hope on this mission . . . to keep me safe.”
Sara frowned and slipped the amulet over her head, hiding it under her clothes. “But what of Hope?”
Guilt seized his chest, and he averted his eyes. “She sacrificed her wings,” he w
hispered. “I didn’t know until after it was a fait accompli.”
Sara’s small hand touched his cheek, her face a mask of pain. “You and Hope should never have had to pay for our sins.” Throwing her arms around Isa’s neck, she squeezed him into a tight hug. “I’ll make this right,” she said before dropping her arms.
A second knock sounded at the door.
Sara flushed the toilet. “Coming,” she said, moving to leave. She stopped and looked back, her tiny hand frozen on the knob. “Journey Forth in Peace and Love, my friend. Godspeed.” With that she flung open the door and left it that way.
Isa slipped out, glancing back only once at the powerful angel trapped inside the body of a little girl who, right now, pretended to fawn over her new pet.
For the first time in over a decade, Isa had the strong desire to spend the afternoon hiding at the bottom of a bourbon bottle. A place he’d promised Hope he’d never revisit. But his longing for home suddenly consumed him, along with a sense of dread the likes of which he’d never felt before. Even though Hope wouldn’t tell him, in his heart, he knew that they might not live to see the battle they were positioning the Angelorum to win. Unlike his angelic friend who would carry memories across every incarnation, Isa would not, nor would anyone outside the three hundred Angelorum Watchers. Isa wished he held Hope’s faith in the teachings that they would be reunited in death. But in his mind . . . dead was dead.
“THAT’S IT,” the bartender said, giving Isa a hard look. Before he could respond, his shot glass had been replaced with a steaming cup of black coffee. “It’s on the house.”
Isa snarled at the guy as he walked away to hide the shame swirling in his gut. Hope and Tom needed his protection, and here he was wallowing in self-pity. He glanced at his watch for the first time in hours. Even with impeccable vision, he had trouble keeping the numbers from swimming around in a blurry haze. They came into focus for only a split second, but that was long enough: 6:42 p.m. He was already late.
Devil it. He’d leave the SUV in the parking lot and return to campus by air. He had pulled the six-to-two evening shift again this week, all the better to slip between campus and the new lab to check on Hope and Tom. They had stepped up their efforts over the last several weeks, and were close to having a workable formula.
He pulled out his phone and swore under his breath. There were two texts from Hope sent twenty minutes ago. Lucky for him, the font was big enough to make out even as it shimmied before his eyes:
Do you have time to stop by the lab for dinner with me & Tom?
Oh, we’re having Mexican . . . let us know by 7 p.m.
As much as he wanted to join them, Hope would be less than pleased once she figured out how he’d spent the afternoon. He slowly punched in a message back.
Had something before work, will stop by later on patrol. Not a lie, but not the whole truth. A dull ache of loneliness gathered inside his chest. I love you . . .
Love you too, xoxo
He pocketed his phone and staggered toward the door. Halfway there, he thought better of it and took a detour to the Men’s Room.
As Isa finished at the urinal and tucked himself away, a wisp of Nephilim energy curled around him and tugged. He stood up straighter, and looked behind him. He was alone.
This was Raphael’s territory. His Guardians covered Northern California, many of whom Isa had met over the last fifteen years. But the energy footprint he sensed was unfamiliar. All it took was a single meeting for one Nephil to imprint on another.
Isa washed his hands and splashed some cold water on his face with his eyes glued to the mirror. The Nephil energy pulled away and disappeared.
Isa mumbled a “thank you” to the bartender on the way out, his gait having much improved with the burst of adrenaline suddenly burning its way through his bloodstream. The memory of the other Nephil’s energy put him on alert, and his muscles tensed ready for fight or flight. He worked to shake off the remaining fuzziness in his head as something gnawed at the fringes of his memory.
He walked out of the dark bar and squinted in the dusky light. Although steadier on his feet, driving was still out of the question. Regardless, he needed a few things from the car before he took off—his campus access badge for one.
After securing his items in closed pockets, he locked the car and headed away from the busy road to the back of the bar where he could cloak and find an adequate space for takeoff without getting hit by an incoming car.
A high-pitched Nephil distress cry sounded from behind the building, followed by the wisp of power he had felt in the bathroom. His instinct to save his brethren kicked in, and he rounded the corner just as he remembered that Raphael’s Guardians didn’t work alone . . . but in pairs.
Before he could stop his momentum, his torso was immobilized in bands of fleshy steel from behind. The lot was empty beyond the dumpster. The Nephil’s screech ceased behind a veil of invisibility, a moment before Isa let out a warning cry.
An inhuman whisper echoed in his ear. “Night, night, Nephil.”
He felt a sharp prick on his neck and then collapsed into darkness.
Chapter 19
SANDRA
Palo Alto, California.
“DID ISA TAKE THE NIGHT OFF and forget to tell me? He never showed up for work,” Miguel said. “Thought you should know . . . in case something’s up.”
She pressed the cell to her ear and walked to the far side of the secret lab, leaving Tom and Calvin to work undisturbed to the sound of Green Day in the background. Had it been her night to choose the music rather than Calvin’s, it would’ve been Mozart coming through the speakers.
“But he texted me right before seven,” she said. “I thought he was already there.” A quick glance at her watch showed it was ten o’clock. She wasn’t expecting him for another hour or so.
“Nope. Never showed, and his cell goes straight to voicemail.”
A ripple of fear passed through her. “Let me see what I can find out and call you back.”
“Thanks. I’ll work the rest of his shift but he owes me one.”
“Agreed,” she said absently. Isa’s reliability had always been his strong suit. This didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned he wasn’t at work? He’d called to fill her in after he’d dropped off the amulet before lunch, and hadn’t mentioned any side trips.
She dialed his cell. As Miguel said, it went straight to voicemail. His phone was either off or out of range. Well, there was one sure way to contact him: a long-range ping on their Trinity hotline. “Isa? Is everything all right?”
She pocketed the cell in her lab coat and paced as she waited for a break in the silence. A sick feeling settled in her midsection with each passing minute. Nothing trivial would keep him from responding. He’d given up the amulet . . . Something must have happened. And whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
There was one more thing she could try, but fear constricted her lungs. No . . . she wouldn’t do that yet. The answer might be unbearable, and she couldn’t handle carrying that burden before implementing her emergency plan. From this moment on, she had to assume they’d been found out.
She tried another call, this time with a little more desperation. “Isa? Where are you? Answer me.” She stood frozen for another couple of minutes, willing an answer from the deafening void.
After a text to Miguel, she stalked back over to where both Tom and Calvin where busy at work and turned down the music.
“Team meeting. Now.”
Tom’s head flew up. His energy buzzed over the skin on her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Ditto that,” Calvin asked with equal concern.
She pulled nervously at her braid, taking comfort in the feel of her hair under her fingertips. Like sucking a thumb, it was the extreme comfort response she’d fallen back on since childhood. “Isa . . . I think the Dark Ones . . . have Isa,” she whispered through shallow breaths, not willing to think anything worse. His DNA alone gave him value. She was reli
eved they’d briefed Calvin a few weeks ago on the players which would save a lengthy explanation now. It hardly mattered anyway, since they would be one of the memories that she would have to erase.
Tom was by her side in two strides. “What do we need to do?”
Sandra took a few deep breaths and pulled herself together. She motioned for Tom and Calvin to take a seat at the team collaboration table they’d set up in an open space next to the bulk of their equipment. “Sit.” She paced next to them, unable to stay still. “We have to assume the Dark Ones are on to us. We’re almost there, so we can’t stop now. But we need to protect the work . . . hide it.”
“But where? Do you think they’ll find this place?” Tom asked, his gaze darting around the equipment-filled warehouse.
She shrugged and stroked her braid. “It can’t matter. We need to keep the work someplace protected, secure, a place no one would ever suspect. What’s certain is it can’t stay on our person or with our effects. That would make it too easy to find.”
Calvin swallowed. “What do you suggest?”
Shifting to the mental list she’d prepared a few weeks ago, she started at the top. “Cal, tomorrow, go to the post office on Cambridge near El Camino Real, rent a box in the name of Dr. Kai Solomon. Make it for long enough that we don’t have to worry about the rental expiring. I’ll give you a charge card to use that can’t be tracked back to us.”
Tom frowned. “Kai?”
Before she answered, she turned to Calvin. “Cal?”
“Hmm?”
“Go to my office.” Calvin’s lids drooped and his mouth relaxed. Without a word, he pushed back his chair and walked away.
“What the frig was that?” Tom hissed across the table, watching Calvin plod toward the library.
She sighed. “Post-hypnotic suggestion. It’s time to release him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t remember anything after he rents the post office box. I’ll have him mail the charge card back to Watson & Haskins with the keys while he’s there. Then it will be only us . . . We can’t put him at any further risk.”
Tom folded his hands and took a deep breath, his mouth flattening into a hard line. “We’re not going to make it out of this, are we?”
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