by T. G. Ayer
Something tugged at her awareness and she probed back. Yes, there it was in the darkest, farthest corner. A hazy shape wavered, blending into the shadows so well no human eye would ever have seen it.
A dark creature. Perhaps a shade or spirit of some sort.
Now what was a man of God doing associating with a creature of the Underworld?
Not that Evie or any of the Warriors believed there was a single decent bone in their new Master's body. She blinked, keeping her face and body as relaxed and unaffected as possible. They need not know she was onto them, and this was one piece of information to file away for the moment.
As Evie watched Marcellus, the air thickened with anticipation. His eye twitched in the direction of the night creature. Marcellus glanced back at Evie, drumming his fingers on the arm of his well-stuffed chair. Concerned I may have seen your secret visitor? But Evie feigned ignorance, turning away from the offending creature and inspecting the envelope that minutes ago was the center of the attention of all three of the room's occupants.
Living occupants, that is.
"So, another one bites the dust?" Evie commented drily.
"Well, we have terminated another lowlife and saved humanity from being terrorized by one of Satan's minions, if that's what you mean." Marcellus' words were cool and critical as if he sensed Evie's judgment. "Evangeline, you seem to have doubts, my dear. Let me assure you that we are contributing to the good of humanity. That is, of course, who we serve."
"You haven't explained the reasons for wanting these." She waved her hand over the buckles and piercings spilling from the now-open envelope. "The possessions of the marks? We used to throw them into the smelter so they can never be used again by another being with evil intentions. You know as well as I do that some demons' possessions retain the owner's power. Hugely unpredictable in the hands of an Innocent." Evie baited him.
Marcellus' decree that all metal objects found in the possession of any mark must be returned to him during debrief had become a concern for the teams and many of the other council members. The very act of collecting items of demonic power alerted the other Warriors to the possibility that the new Master intentions were questionable. So the Warriors completed each mission as prescribed and metal items returned to him as per instruction, but anything Evie thought was of any value she retained and hid away.
In the last few months, most of what he had seen were belt buckles, earrings, and boot spurs along with a small pile of tongue and lip piercings. Demons had a fetish for the human art of body piercings. And cowboy boots. Evie had no idea if any of the other Warriors had weakened to Marcellus' demands, but his arrogance was beginning to seep through his refined persona. Now was just such a time. False confidence with his shadow friend, seemingly hidden within the dark corners of the room?
His forehead bore the slightest of creases as he contemplated his next move. Evie could almost hear his thoughts. Had to concentrate to shut them out. Her power to delve into the minds of humans was an asset. But not here. Amongst the Irin, she was forbidden to listen.
Part of her vow as an Irin Warriors inhibited her use of her telepathic ability within the grounds of the Brotherhood compound. It was a weak pledge, but for the most part, the Nephilim behaved.
In light of the circumstances with Baltazar and now the unwelcome, underworldly visitor in the corner, Evie's vow proved very difficult to keep, especially when all she had to do was lift the veil the teensiest bit, just hear a whisper of his thoughts.
No. She was stronger than her temptation. She had to find another way. Besides, who knew what magic he may have used to detect mindreading from the Nephilim.
Marcellus rose, veins pumping at his temple. It seemed the Master was forfeiting this round as he walked to the windows through which she had made her most bothersome entrance. It was his cue that he was done with her, for now.
Thrilled to leave, Evie exited the room, steeling herself from barging through the doors at a dead run.
Retribution Ch 3
Evie mulled over the meaning of the metal artifacts she'd retrieved from Baltazar. Barely rested, she headed to join the rest of the younger Nephilim for the morning sessions.
The sound of her heels on the floor changed from a soft patter on cool marble tile to a hollow clack on solid wood flooring and she found herself taking the main corridor to the West wing. Evie smiled. Her subconscious knew better what she needed. She had to see Master Patrick.
If the sound of Evie's feet on her journey had not roused her from her reverie, the odor of the Wing itself would have called her attention to direction and destination. The passage, lined with warm wood paneling at least two centuries old, gave off the aroma of "ancient." Mustiness clung from the beveled cornices of the ceilings, to the dust topping the curves of the wrought-iron lamps, and to the cobwebs, which swayed like little grey ghosts watching Evie pass. Ancient paintings of long-dead Irin Masters dotted the wall. Each face bore pained and long-suffering expressions as if they too could smell the odor and disapproved strongly.
The darkness and shadows oppressed Evie, and no magic was allowed, even to brighten the passage. No outside light reached these passages, which added to the sense of entombment in a warren of dead Masters. Evie shivered. The dark corridors had never seemed oppressive or dank. Not until Marcellus moved in. He'd brought a darkness with him that filled the shadows with suspicion and a hint of evil.
She walked on, chiding herself for being paranoid, and turned a corner. The West Wing was well loved, well cared for. Except for this almost-forgotten end of it. Evie's heart turned painfully in her chest. And she tasted the bitter bile of hatred.
She had tried. But opposing Marcellus' new position because of her gut instinct hadn't been enough. Especially when Master Patrick had assured her Marcellus was true to the cause. But nothing sat right in Evie's gut when she looked at the new Master. It was as if even the marrow in her bones rebelled against his authority.
The tapping of her heels slowed to a halt as she came to the heavy oak door to Master Patrick's chambers. Patrick, relegated to the West Wing to live out the rest of his weak and ailing life, seemed to take it in his stride, with grace and dignity.
But it was a double blow for the Warriors. Despite the Council member's objections, Marcellus had been adamant that Patrick needed to recuperate in private.
Evie didn't believe it for one second. The Irin Estate was immense. Plenty of room for Master Patrick. Marcellus had an ulterior motive for hiding his ailing predecessor away from his most loyal followers, within the oldest part of the facility. Evie had to hand it to him. He was a master strategist.
Evie knocked firmly. Turning the heavy brass knob, she pushed the door open a little. With his hearing steadily failing, he didn't always hear her knock. If he was asleep, she'd come back again later. Evie peered around the door at the monstrosity of a bed. She hated the thing about as much as Patrick cherished it. A dark, almost black, polished mahogany four-poster hung with blood-burgundy and green-striped brocade curtains. The bed sucked every bit of the energy from the room.
Patrick was not in the bed, so she stepped quickly into the room, steeling herself against racing inside to search him out. Heart thumping, she scanned the gathering shadows. And found him sitting at his small writing table within the light of the morning sun. It filtered weakly into the room, pale and golden.
Dust-fairies swirled around on the sunbeams. Tiny trills of laughter filtered to Evie's ears, and she smiled. They moved around her as she passed from shadow to light and toward her mentor. Patrick looked up as she stepped closer. The fairies watched her as they flitted about, letting her pass. As tiny as weightless grains of sand, they floated on the breeze her shifting body made as she walked through a stream of the laughing creatures. Then they were back to basking in the sunbeams, their attention to the angel only a temporary thing.
Patrick smiled and it deepened the wrinkles at the corners of his deep, cornflower-blue eyes. Evie teased him mercilessly
that he would have made a great Pope since he looked the part. His smile brought life to a face dull and gray with his current illness and with age, which had only recently begun to reveal itself. Evie's heart ached with sadness. He had been the perfect Grand Master, his immortality only helping the success and solidity of the order. His own predecessors had been mortal, just as the rest of the current masters were. Patrick had used that as an excuse, saying perhaps it was time for humans to take charge of the Irin.
Evie smiled sadly as he held his gnarled, wrinkled hands out to her as she knelt beside him. "How are you, Evangeline?" His words scratched out, dusty, unused like his ink and quills, like the handmade parchment she'd sourced from the rarest suppliers that sat untouched on his desk, lit only by the sun's rays.
"I am well, Master," Evie answered, hiding a sad smile.
"Now, Evangeline. You know better than to lie to me." It was too easy to forget that the man who sat, glowing in the now brightening sunlight, had been a father to her. He'd always been able to tell when she was fibbing. They'd spent enough centuries together. Enough to learn more about each other than most normal families could learn in their short lifetimes.
Now, she dropped her eyes, unable to admit her concerns about Marcellus. "It's nothing, Master. I'll get over it."
But Patrick wasn't to be misled that easily. Evie watched him study her face. Knew before he opened his mouth what he would say. "Marcellus again?" His eyes were old, but still bright and fearless. His sigh was soft as she nodded. "Child, you have to give Marcellus a chance to prove his strength as a Grand Master. I can't be Master forever."
He leaned against the soft cushion of his chair back, as if tired of the world itself, and patted her hand. Evie bit her tongue against the accusation teetering at its tip, like a ripened fruit ready to burst. She'd voiced her suspicions to Patrick before. Suspicions about Marcellus' intentions where Patrick himself was concerned. But Patrick had merely batted the accusations away. ‘How would Marcellus kill an Immortal without detection?' Patrick had asked, his disbelief so evident in his question. Patrick had insisted his no longer being Master had no impact on Council decisions and posed no threat to Marcellus' rule of the Brotherhood.
But Evie had to wonder if those words were just a front and if Patrick was just giving up. Was there something more going on here than what Evie could see? She clenched her jaw. Evie meant to find out no matter what Patrick said.
For now she studied Patrick's face, her anger rising within her, an unchecked tide. "He's canned your plans to allow Sofia to join the Brotherhood you know," Evie said, bitter and angry again. Sofia was a Nephilim and a friend. She'd applied to join the Irin but had been refused by Marcellus because she'd once worked for the local Demon Chieftains. Patrick had overlooked it as mistakes of the past and had championed her application but Marcellus had felt otherwise and vetoed her entry.
A shadow of dark color rose in the old man's face and he seemed to war against his emotions for a moment. Evie was glad that at least that piece of information had elicited deeper emotional reaction from him. Sofia's plight deserved it. Eventually he released his breath and sighed, his face drooping sadly.
"I changed what I could in my time, Evangeline," he said, shaking his head as he looked at Evie, his eyes cloudy and paler than just moments ago. "The Brotherhood is centuries old. Time moves faster than the Irin."
"But she was ready to enter the Order before Marcellus found out. He cancelled the ordainment without even telling her. What is she supposed to do now?" Evie took care to ensure she didn't raise her voice. Patrick wasn't the one who deserved her rage.
"She had petitioned only me and I have done what I can. If the Master of the Irin refuses to ordain her, I am powerless to change anything."
"That's exactly what I mean, Father." Her dislike for Marcellus was palpable and she had to restrain herself from a more vehement statement. "He has put a halt on as many of your projects as he can. He's even recalled the West Coast Cadre."
Patrick was startled enough to look at Evie with disbelief. The West Coast division was as important as their headquarters here at the estate. The West Coast Irin were their eyes and ears out there. The old man remained silent for a while, a look of quiet contemplation on his aged features. "He is the new Master, child. I cannot influence his hand in any way. He will change the Brotherhood and mould it as he sees fit. And even if you believe he is not what he seems, it will only be time that will reveal his intentions. In the meantime, all you can do is your job."
His hand was warm on Evie's head. In essence, she was still very much the child at the father's feet. Her father had chosen with wisdom when he had placed Evie with Patrick. Patrick who'd been a knight in his time. Who'd had the knowledge to oversee a Brotherhood, which had grown from a tiny flotilla to an armada of angelic Warriors. He'd fought for the inclusion of all winged Warriors, the Asgardian Valkyries and the Indian Apsaras among others. He'd been tireless in his raising of Evie, so determined, so dedicated.
Now there were only two things Evie could accuse him of—dismissing his ailing state of health, and refusing to listen to her suspicions of Marcellus. He gave Evie the impression he was strong in his belief that the Council had chosen wisely. He believed, too, that his illness seriously hampered his ability to lead the Irin.
Evie, on the other hand, was convinced Marcellus had a nefarious plan. Perhaps it was time to confide in Patrick. Tell him about the metal pieces they were constantly hunting for.
"May I ask one more question, Father?"
He nodded gravely.
"Aren't demons unable to take metal with them beyond the Veil?"
"That's right." He nodded again, a tiny frown of curiosity marring his pale forehead.
Evie forged ahead. "Would the Irin need the metal the demons hold for any purpose at all?"
Patrick was already shaking his head. "No. There's nothing the demons possess that can benefit the Brotherhood in any way. Why do you ask?" Now the frown was no longer mildly curious.
"No reason. Just a question." Evie wanted to think about Patrick's confirmation first. Find out a little more before she confided the whole story to the old Master. The very real possibility that Patrick may soon leave this world was something Evie preferred not to think about. She desperately needed to believe in his longevity. "How are you feeling today? Has Castor been to see you?"
"No better than yesterday, child. And yes, Castor's been and given me the rubs and the oils and whatever those potions are that he creates." Patrick made a face and Evie smiled. Castor was special to Patrick too. There was a strange silence as he paused, searching her face. "Evie, you must know I do not have much time left."
His tone was so matter-of-fact that for a moment she was lost for words. And before she found the strength to negate his statement he said, "No point in denying it. I am not long for this world."
"But why? How is this happening? You are Immortal. Centuries old!" Evie shook her head in disbelief, quivering with impotent rage. "This shouldn't be happening."
Patrick leaned forward and laid a hand to her cheek. "But it is happening. And I don't know how to stop it." Patrick regarded Evie with helpless eyes, his soft palm with its papery-thin skin cupping her face.
"Can't we find someone? Isn't there anyone who can help?" She grabbed his hand, careful to not hurt him.
"My dear child, if there were someone who could help me, they would have done so by now." He sighed, the ragged sound so tired and defeated, so soft Evie wondered if she'd imagined it. "Perhaps the Archangels could have helped. But I sealed my fate a thousand years ago."
Then he smiled at Evie. A paternal and loving smile that brought tears to her grieving heart. She would not allow herself to cry in front of him. This whole situation was impossible and unacceptable.
The sun had traveled west on its journey, and Patrick no longer sat basking in its warmth. His face, so recently golden in the warmth of the sunshine, was now pallid and worn.
"Come, child. H
elp an old man to his bed." Patrick held out his hand and Evie assisted the frail, almost skeletal man across the floor. The sunshine had warmed the wood and she could almost feel the heat rise up as she crossed the stream of rays. She performed a task which the old man had done for her countless times in the years of her childhood. She couldn't bear the thought that soon she would no longer have him around to comfort and advise her.
Coming to see him had just reminded her how close she was to losing him forever.
READ RETRIBUTION
Also by T.G. Ayer
Young Adult Paranormal
The Valkyrie Series
Dead Radiance
Dead Embers
Dead Chaos
Dead Wrath
Dead Silence
The Hand of Kali Series
Fire & Shadow
Blood & Gold
Time & Fate
Fury & Virtue
Spirit & Soul
Adult Urban Fantasy
The DarkWorld SkinWalker Series
Skin Deep
Lost Soul
Last Chance
Blood Promise
Scorched Fury
Fate’s Edge
Demon Hunter
The SoulTracker Series (A DarkWorld Spin-Off)
Blood Magic
Demon Kin
Blood Curse
Demon Soul
Blood Moon
Demon Born
The DarkWorld Origins
Pyros (Logan)
Ailuros (Kailin) - 2017