by S. J. Day
The moon had drifted farther along in the sky, shining less light into the space and creating more shadows. Eve was suddenly exhausted and a giant yawn escaped her.
“Tell me why you are here,” Izzie said, kicking off her boots.
Eve headed down the hall to her room. “Not tonight, I have a headache.”
“We can help one another.”
Eve paused at her door. “How exactly are you going to help me?”
The blonde shrugged. “I will think of a way.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.” Stepping into her room, Eve shut the door and crawled into bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Festive tropical music poured from hidden speakers while a warm ocean draft gusted through the open French doors of Greater Adventures Yachts, the manufacturer of the multimillion-dollar boats that funded the Australian firm.
Reed feigned the appearance of examining the photos of various ships on the wall, but in truth, he didn’t see any of them. Instead, he saw the horror of the night before—the blood splattered over acacias and broken melaleuca trees, the wide circular depression in the wild grasses, the skin of Les’s Mark torn from the missing body. Caught on various twigs, the flesh flapped in the evening breeze as a macabre banner, taunting them with their helplessness.
What the hell were they dealing with?
“Are you all right?” Mariel asked from her position beside him.
“Not really, no.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re good at what you do because you let the shit get to you.”
He managed a slight smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me.”
“Abel!”
Reed turned at the sound of the familiar, jovial voice. Uriel approached with his ever-ready wide grin and bright blue eyes. Sans shirt, the archangel sported only tropical shorts and flip-flops. His skin was tanned mahogany and the ends of his longish hair were bleached by the sun.
Bowing, Reed showed his respect and appreciation for the courtesy Uriel paid him by allowing him to investigate on Australian turf. As he straightened, the archangel clapped him on the shoulder.
“It is good to see you again,” Uriel said.
“And you as well.”
Uriel accepted Mariel’s extended hand and kissed her knuckles. “Let us go up to my office.”
They left the large waiting area and ascended a short flight of steps up to an expansive loft. A glass-topped, white wicker desk faced another set of open French doors. The stunning view of the beach beyond was a bit like the vista Eve’s condo enjoyed. However, the water in Huntington Beach was a dark bluish-gray. The water here was bluer. Beautiful. Reed found himself wishing Eve were here to see it.
Dropping into the chair behind the desk, Uriel said, “It is unfortunate that you are not here under more pleasant circumstances.”
Mariel took a seat.
Reed remained standing. He noted a small rack on a nearby console that held several bottles of wine. He crossed over to it and carefully lifted one, reading the brilliantly colored label. “Caesarea Winery?”
“A new venture,” the archangel explained.
“I hope it does well for you.”
“It always pays to be cautious and plan for contingencies, which is why I invited you to come out here.”
“We appreciate the invitation,” Mariel murmured.
“Where’s Les?” Reed asked. “I would like him to be present, if you don’t mind.”
“On the beach. He will be up in a moment.” Uriel’s features were grave. “He is taking the loss of his Mark very hard. I told him to hit the waves for a bit and clear his head. Everyone needs to be focused on the puzzle at hand.”
“It’s a terrible puzzle.” Mariel’s voice was soft and filled with sadness. “Something truly heinous.”
As if on cue, Les entered through the balcony doors, dripping wet and sprinkled with sand. No one missed the catch in Mariel’s breathing, least of all the handsome Aussie, who gifted her with a slight smile. “Hello.”
Uriel launched into the discussion without hesitation, looking between Reed and Mariel. “What did you determine last night? Is this situation similar to what you both experienced with your Marks?”
“Yes.” Reed returned the wine bottle to the rack. “The same.”
“So you believe it is the same Infernal?”
“Or the same classification,” Mariel said. “We don’t know if this is one demon or several.”
Uriel looked at Les, who nodded his agreement. “It’s a possibility to consider.”
“Three attacks in three weeks.” Reed thought back to the order he’d received to vanquish a tommy knocker causing trouble in a busy Kentucky mine. The faeries were Takeo’s specialty; the Mark had vanquished many of them. “For a new class of Infernal, there seems to be no learning curve. This demon has jumped straight into killing on a mass scale. And it’s not attacking defenseless mortals or novice Marks; it’s taking out our best and brightest.”
“I sent Kimberly after Patupairehe,” Les said grimly, “but we never saw any. So I’m wondering what happened to the original assignment.”
“Perhaps this Infernal is killing other demons, as well as Marks?” Uriel suggested.
Reed crossed his arms. “Or the seraphim are vulnerable in some way. Either erroneous information is leaching into the system or our lines of communication aren’t sacred. An Infernal could be intercepting the assignments as they’re sent down to us.”
“How would that be possible?” Mariel breathed, clearly horrified by the thought.
Uriel leaned forward with his forearms on the desk. “Marks graduate from their mentors every day. Killing one established Mark a month barely puts a dent in our numbers. It hurts, yes. But it is not fatal.”
“I’m not sure the goal is a thinning of our ranks.” Reed’s cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID, sent Sara to voicemail again, and passed the conversation over to the Aussie handler. “Les has a theory.”
Les ran a hand through his dripping wet hair and laid it out. “I think the demon might be absorbing the Marks it kills. Parts of the physical body, and also some of the Mark’s thoughts and connection to their handler.”
The archangel paused. His gaze moved over all three of the mal’akhs before him. “What evidence do you have for such a claim?”
“The Infernal knew where I was shifting almost before I did.”
“That is hardly proof,” Uriel scoffed. “I would call it dumb luck, unless it happens more than once.”
“It will strike again.” Mariel’s tone was resigned. “But learning from our failures doesn’t sit well with me.”
Uriel arched a brow at Reed. “Suggestions?”
“To find it, we need to know how it hunts. I’ve been considering the similarities between the three kills, trying to find a pattern we can use.”
“All three Marks were in remote areas,” Mariel said. “Places the Infernal couldn’t have simply ‘stumbled’ upon them.”
“All three were hunting an Infernal they specialized in,” Les added. “They were in their element.”
“All three were under the direction of established, prominent handlers.” Uriel’s mouth was a somber line. “Handlers with years of experience and information.”
Reed believed Les was onto something with his theory, which led him to a horrifying realization . . .
“Eve . . .” he breathed, his gut clenching.
She wasn’t safe. She had been paramount in his thoughts at the moment the Infernal had absorbed Takeo . . . and possibly Takeo’s connection to Reed. If Sammael knew about her, he would exploit her to the fullest extent. Cain had been a focus of his since the dawn of time and he would seize any opportunity to minimize Cain’s effectiveness or turn Cain against God.
The archangel stared at Reed, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “Would he not have gone after her directly? Why come here first?”
“Maybe Kimberly and I had som
ething he thought he could use?” Les suggested.
“Or maybe there’s more than one,” Mariel repeated. “The Infernal who killed my Mark was much smaller than the one you saw.”
“We need to coordinate with the other firms,” Uriel said.
“We can start by establishing teams to covertly accompany experienced Marks on remote hunts for Infernals they specialize in.” Reed’s gaze touched upon Mariel and Les, then came to rest on Uriel. “We can also set a trap to prove or disprove Les’s theory.”
“How?”
“We can feed the Marks false information and see what happens.”
Uriel nodded. “And what if the only way to access that information is through death?”
“It’s a chance we have to take. We need to know.”
“I agree.” The archangel’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You have no qualms. You should have my job.”
That was Reed’s plan. Not to take Uriel’s place, but to join him in the rank of archangel. The creation of a new firm was long overdue. Reed fully intended to step into position as firm leader when the time came. Handling Eve was going to help him do that. By supervising her—and therefore Cain—he would prove that he could handle any task. From the training of new Marks, to the managing of the most powerful Mark of them all.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he demurred. “I hate to lose Marks, whether they’re mine or not. But casualties are inevitable in war.”
Mariel’s verdant eyes were sharp and assessing. “You have someone in mind?”
“Not yet. I’ll work on that. In the meantime, Eve is in training now. In light of the possible danger, I will shadow her until Cain returns.”
“Understandable,” Uriel said. “I will arrange a conference call with the other firm leaders.”
Mariel pushed gracefully to her feet, her long red hair swaying around her shoulders. She offered a shy smile to Les, who managed to return the gesture despite the grief that shrouded him.
Reed and Mariel left Australia in the blink of an eye. They shifted to Gadara Tower, landing in the subterranean Exceptional Projects Department.
Touching his arm, Mariel said, “Sara is going to be livid when Uriel calls.”
“That’s her problem.”
“And subsequently, yours and Ms. Hollis’s.”
Reed’s jaw clenched. Ambitious, masochistic, and shrewd, Sara had wanted to head any investigation into the rogue Infernal creature so that she could take the credit for its eventual vanquishing.
“There’s nothing to be done about that,” he dismissed. “The Infernal has never hunted on her territory. She’s in no position to lead an investigation.”
“She’ll expect that your relationship will give her an advantage.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” They’d never had one. He had been a stud to service her and she had been diverting. Once he realized she would rather sabotage his efforts to advance to archangel than help him, he’d ended the affair. However, although she didn’t love him, she didn’t want anyone else to have him either.
Mariel studied him carefully. “Has Sara seen you with Ms. Hollis?”
“No.”
“You better pray she never does.”
His mouth curved. “You’ve never seen me with her either.”
“I’ve seen you without her, that’s plenty.”
Reed caught her elbow and led her down the long hall, away from the traffic and Infernal stench that distinguished the lobby area. Eve said the E.P.D. reminded her of noir films. He could see the resemblance in the muted lighting, inlaid glass doors, and smoky air.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
“Pay attention to all the orders that come down and protect my Marks. I’ll skip a call before I send one of my crew to get slaughtered.”
“Uriel isn’t one to delay.”
“Thank God. And you? Are you leaving to join her now?”
Reed kept his face impassive. “After I grab a few things.”
“Be careful.” Her tone told him she wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You, too.”
“My worries aren’t even half of yours,” she muttered. “You’re on shaky ground, my friend. I don’t want to see you fall.”
Walking toward the elevators, Reed thought of Eve and suspected it was already too late. God help him.
“God help us all.”
CHAPTER 7
Monterey was a chilly, foggy town in the morning. The gray sky and thick, misty ground cover added to the somber mood of the training area. Lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Marks, Eve gazed warily at the view beyond Gadara, who stood before them. Peeling paint, broken windows, and haphazardly leaning structures formed a dystopian city occupied by rotting mannequins and junkyard cars.
“Welcome to Anytown,” the archangel said in his luxuriant timbre. “Where anything can happen.”
He was smiling and looking far too anticipatory for Eve’s taste. His attire of khaki green sweat suit emblazoned with “Gadara Enterprises” was overly casual in her estimation. She had never seen him so laid back, and the skeptical side of her brain wondered if he expected to be camped out here for a while.
For her part, she’d dressed in comfortable jeans, T-shirt, and sweater jacket. On her feet she wore what she now considered to be necessary footwear—combat boots. All of her pretty heels and sandals were stored away. She missed them, but she valued her life more than her fashion sense.
“As Ms. Hollis so heroically demonstrated last night,” Gadara continued, “vanquishing a target is only half the battle. First, you must confirm that you have acquired the correct Infernal before proceeding. That is the focus of today’s training exercise.”
“Was that the plan before last night?” Ken asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“I wantae ken if our training was goosed because Hollis and Molenaar were scrapping like a bunch of haddies.”
“She attacked me!” Molenaar cried.
“This particular assignment was scheduled for later in the week,” Gadara conceded. “But this is a simple rearrangement, not a replacement. You will not be deprived of anything, Mr. Callaghan. I promise you that.”
Ken leaned forward and looked down the row at Eve. His expression clearly said he wasn’t pleased. She smiled and waved. He wore all black today—black jeans, black turtleneck, and black ski cap. On someone else the outfit might have been too stark and slightly intimidating. Ken, however, looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.
“This exercise is designed to simulate actual field conditions.” Gadara began to walk down the line, inspecting each Mark. “In this scenario, you are hunting a rogue faery.”
“What is the alleged crime?” Edwards asked.
“You are not concerned with why you are hunting, Mr. Edwards. That is something you will rarely know.”
“Got it. Sorry.”
Gadara held up a black armband, which he produced out of thin air. “For training purposes, you will wear these directly over your marks. It holds a thin metal pad that will heat up when in proximity to a similar band worn on your target.”
“The smell of the Infernal will not be enough?” Romeo asked.
Laughter swelled through the group.
“If there was only one, yes. But when will you be in an urban situation such as we are staging today and have only one Infernal in the area, Mr. Garza? Today’s exercise would not be a very realistic simulation with only one demon present.”
“So there’s more than one,” Eve murmured.
“Of course. In addition to your target, there are other Infernals within the designated training area. Some are working in collusion with the demon you hunt and they will try to distract you. The others are simply bystanders. Later on in the week, we will also be training alongside an Army platoon, which will add mortals to the mix and force you to work without arousing suspicions. But in the beginning, you will be
focused on hunting your designated target among a group of Infernals.”
“Well,” Ken said, grinning. “If our bands burn, we’ll know what tae do.”
“It is not quite that easy, Mr. Callaghan. You will see how fear alters your judgment and goads you to act rashly. That is the reason we train Marks so extensively. You must learn to ignore your terror and work through it.”
“What does the winner get?” Richens asked.
“You will succeed or fail as a team, which leads me to the rules of engagement. Number one: take pains to avoid wounding your fellow Marks. Anxiety fosters careless mistakes.”
“Yeah, Hollis.” Laurel blew a bubble with her chewing gum, then popped it. “Watch out.”
Eve looked at her and rubbed the space between her brows with her middle finger.
“Are you flipping me off?”
“Ladies, please.” Gadara shook his head. “You may save each other’s lives one day.”
“How much time do we have to catch the Infernal?” Romeo asked.
“This is not a timed assignment. We will remain at the training site until the Infernal is captured.” Gadara moved over to the nearby tent and picnic table. He set his hands on one of several large coolers resting on the tabletop. “There are sandwiches and drinks here, if you need them.”
“We should begin now,” Claire said. “I have no wish to be out here after dark.”
“It’s morning,” Izzie drawled. “There are eight of us. We will not be out here long.”
“Will we be given weapons?” Ken asked.
“To a certain extent.” The archangel swept his hand in a wide swath before him. A tarp covered with various knives and pistols appeared on the ground at his feet. Eve bit back a smile. The twinkle in his eyes told her he was thoroughly enjoying the free use of his celestial gifts.
Ken frowned. “I dinnae ken.”
“Injuries inflicted with these items are survivable. The bullets are rubber and the knife blades are short to ensure shallow wounds. So whether or not they will be of any use to you remains to be seen.”
“What’s the point, then?” Richens muttered. “A bloody mug’s game. That’s what this is.”