Demons in Disguise: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book Three

by A and E Kirk

  “Wait!” Cristiano’s hand on my shoulder kept me down. I felt him raise his head. “Move! Now!”

  “You’re all right?”

  He didn’t answer, just rolled off me, yanked me to my feet, and threw Heather over his shoulder again. We raced through the rain and hail to the northeast gate and jumped into a SUV parked on the other side. Cristiano produced keys and fishtailed us out of there, wipers flinging furiously against the continued unexpected downpour, the windshield cracking as larger chunks of hail and ice pounded the glass.

  I clung to the handle above the window, reaching back to touch Heather. She was unconscious but breathing. I couldn’t see any blood or bullet holes. A miracle.

  I turned on Cristiano. “You just left her out there to die? How could you? And don’t tell me you didn’t have any choice.”

  “Of course I had a choice.” He yanked the wheel and we skidded around a corner. I flung sideways. Mud splattered onto the shattered windshield as he said, “I chose you.”

  That stunned me into silence. But only for a moment.

  “Who was that?” I frantically searched the skies, but saw no more helicopters bearing down. “Were they Mandatum after us or part of the demon attack?”

  “I do not know,” he said, then gave me a questioning glance. “What demon attack?”

  Uh-oh.

  Not the one I saw in my Divinicus Nex vision. Nope. Certainly not that one.

  “Uh, I thought I saw demons.”

  Luckily, further conversation stopped because we screeched onto Novo’s private airstrip and raced to the Sicarius team’s plane.

  “Rocket launch!” Cristiano shouted to the pilot. “Now!”

  He dumped Heather toward a couch. She landed half on the floor.

  “Strap in,” he ordered with quiet urgency as he latched the door shut then disappeared into the cockpit.

  Engines already running, we took off with a lurching shudder. I stumbled, caught myself, then struggled to get Heather secured in a seat, checking more thoroughly for injuries, finding none. How was that possible? She began muttering. Singing. I realized it was our old high school fight song.

  Yay. Go team.

  She suddenly jerked up and looked around, frantic, eyes sparkling with hysteria. Through the clumps of wet, matted hair over her eyes, she saw me.

  “Thank God!” she said, grasping my wrists in a white-knuckle grip. “I remembered. We were hurting you. You screamed. So loud until...” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “It’s all right,” I said.

  “No. I wanted to kill you, Aurora-bora.” Her hands moved to clasp my face. She blinked rapidly. “You’re okay. It was just a dream. But it felt so real, I had to make myself pay.” She pulled up one sleeve. There were fresh, deep scratches dug into the burn marks left on her arm that night. “Why did they make me do it?” Her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s hard to remember. Oh my gosh!” She opened her eyes and stared in horror. “What did you do to your hair?” Then she slumped unconscious again.

  With a bump, the jet roared into a sudden, ridiculously steep ascent into the sky, I tumbled backwards. Cristiano swore and caught me mid-fall. He pulled us into one seat, me on his lap as he secured the seatbelt over us both, his arms around my waist an added layer of security.

  He’d removed the lab coat. G-force pressed me back hard against his naked chest. My shirt soaked through, my arms bare, I felt his skin, damp but warm against me, his breath on my shoulder.

  It was a hard ride up and seemed to take forever, but we finally leveled out. My stomach tried to settle. My lungs had been stifled from the pressure so I took a deep pull of air and dropped my head back until it rested on Cristiano’s shoulder.

  He spoke softly, his mouth next to my ear.

  “We will shower now.”

  I choked on my own breath. Made some sort of honking noise. Tried to jerk up. The seatbelt refused to oblige, digging painfully across my abdomen. I scrambled for the buckle, but it was down under Cristiano’s hip, and I couldn’t quite reach far enough to—

  His hands spread over the top of each of my thighs and squeezed. Hard enough to make me squeal from the biting tickle that jolted through my legs.

  “Enough,” he said sharply. I stopped squirming. His hands relaxed but stayed on top of my thighs. “Remain still and I will untangle you from our embrace.”

  “It’s not an embrace, so you’d better just—”

  His hands squeezed again.

  I jerked and gritted my teeth against another squeal. “Fine.”

  Arms crossed over my chest, I remained stiff while he slid an arm across my thighs and down over my hip, a lot slower than seemed necessary, his breath steady in and out on my bare shoulder.

  There was a click. The pressure across my stomach released. I flew off his lap.

  “And just for the record.” I faced him, pushed wet curls off my face. “I am not taking a shower with you.”

  His head tilted, his expression puzzled. “Of course not.” Then his features gathered into pleasant shock. “Oh, you thought I meant…” He smiled, as if both embarrassed and faintly amused. “My English. It lacks precision. I meant each of us should shower. Separately. I would offer you to go first.”

  “Oh.” Well that was a bit humiliating.

  He raised a thoughtful eyebrow. “Although not to say I would be disinclined to accept your tempting offer at a later date. After we take the time to know each other more intimately.”

  My throat rumbled a growl. “That wasn’t an offer.”

  “Pity,” he mused. “But I have hopes for the future.”

  I set my fists on my hips. “That is not happening. And you can just stop with all the—”

  “Innuendo? My apologies.” he said, not sounding very apologetic. “I must confess to amusing myself at your expense. It is your flustered reaction, the high color that blossoms in your cheeks. I find it enchanting. And dangerously appealing.”

  “Well, you can just stop being enchantingly, dangerously appealed. Or whatever. I have a boyfriend.”

  I would have needed a high-speed camera to capture the expression that shadowed across his face before he smiled amiably.

  “Yes. Several of them so I am told.”

  As I bristled, anger rising, his smile broadened to a grin.

  “You see?” He gestured toward my face. “There it is again. Dangerously appealing. I am unequal to the task of denying myself the pleasure.”

  “Uh-huh.” I chewed on my lip. “Just for the record, that’s not true about the—”

  “Many boyfriends? I know.”

  “How do you know? I could get around.” Oh, for heaven’s sake. What was I saying? He was goading me into insulting myself. This needed to stop. “Quit finishing my sentences. It’s really—“

  “Annoying? I believe you mentioned that earlier.”

  I shot daggers at him. “And apparently you didn’t listen.”

  He laughed, putting up his hands in surrender. “My apologies. Again. My resistance to your charms appears nonexistent.”

  “Good thing mine to yours isn’t.”

  “We shall see.”

  “No we—”

  “Will not? I beg to remain optimistic and politely disagree.”

  I felt my cheeks burning, which only made him smile more.

  I said in a rush, “Get some clothes on.”

  At least he didn’t finish that one.

  “Shortly I will wear less. I prefer showering naked. Perhaps it is an Italian thing.” His hand waved through the air. “But shower as you see fit. And quickly. You cannot go back to school looking like that. If you would rather, I will shower first.”

  He stood and began to unbuckle his belt.

  “I begin by removing every single article of clothing on my body and—”

  “No!” I jumped up. “Where—”

  “The bathing facilities are in the back of the plane. Towels and clothing await you.” He glanced at my irritated expression and sighed
with resignation. “Annoying, perhaps, but it saves so much time.” He brushed past me on his way to the cockpit. “I will enter the bathroom in twelve minutes whether you are still in it or not, whatever your state of dress.” He paused. “Or undress.”

  I snorted. “Woop-dee-do. A whole twelve minutes. Why so long?”

  “Fine,” he shrugged. “It will be ten.” Then he leaned over the pilot’s shoulder for a quiet conversation.

  I took a moment to sneer at his back and mimic under my breath, “Fine, it will be ten.”

  Without turning he said, “Now, it is less than ten.”

  “Grrr! And you are less than amusing. Do not, I repeat, do not enter that bathroom without my permission. Or else.” I glowered at his back. “Do you hear me?”

  Without turning around he said, “I hear you.”

  “You are not the boss of me, Mister Italiano Man, and don't you forget it.”

  He appeared confused. “Of course not. No one is the, as you say, boss of you, since you have no occupation. Unless there is a job about which you have not informed me.”

  I grunted and turned to stalk toward the back of the plane, but my foot tangled in the lab coat on the floor, almost causing me to face-plant.

  Stupid coat! And stupid Italian owner of the stupid coat! I kicked violently, trying to remove the stupid thing, but it was wet and extremely uncooperative. It acted more like glue. I finally had to snatch it off my foot.

  I paused, holding the coat up by the shoulders for a better look. Water dripped off the edges.

  “Holy crap,” I murmured.

  The back of the coat was shredded to pieces by dozens and dozens of bullet holes. I could still smell the gunshot residue.

  I looked toward the cockpit for a clear view of Cristiano’s bare back. There were no signs of injuries. At least, not new ones.

  “Hey, Armani, care to explain this?”

  Cristiano looked over his shoulder, first at me, then at the destroyed coat. His expression remained carefully blank.

  “No,” he said, then resumed his conversation with the pilot while pointedly tapping an index finger on the face of his watch.

  After a frustrated growl, I raced toward the back of the plane.

  It was bigger than expected. I passed at least two bedrooms and one combination science lab/computer tech room, but with my limited timeframe, didn’t pause for a tour.

  The bathroom was roomy and luxurious. Marble and glass. Impressive.

  I noticed the lavish shower was indeed big enough for two. I wondered how many shared showers Cristiano had taken with other females. How close were he and Nitara? He thought a threesome with Eros and Psyche wasn’t out of the question, so maybe the relationship with the female members of this team translated into—

  Okay, Aurora, shut it down. None of your business.

  No, you needed to be more interested in how Armani appeared to be bulletproof.

  By the time I’d undressed and popped out the dark contact lenses, the shower spray was steaming. The dye washed out of my hair easily, brown water swirling down the drain. The spray tan, not so much, but it dissipated significantly with vigorous scrubbing.

  The wet clothes clinging to my body had chilled me down to my bones, but the hot water cranked high helped reverse my road to hypothermia. I found myself lingering under the delicious heat, then I panicked over staying too long and jumped out to dry off and dress.

  At least the door had a lock. Which I’d double checked, so I’d have some warning if Cristiano tried to—

  The door opened.

  Cristiano walked in.

  I was clothed. Barely. Just pulling the T-shirt over the waist of my jeans as he entered. They were the same clothes I’d worn to school that morning, and darn if they didn’t seemed to have been washed and pressed.

  Armani stood in a swirl of steam, eyes of pale green flicked over me, appraising.

  “You’re a little early,” I said crossly.

  His watch started beeping. He pressed a button. It stopped.

  “No,” he said. “Exactly on time.”

  Smart aleck.

  “You said you heard me.”

  “But I did not agree to obey.”

  God he had some nerve.

  He stepped close and looked into my eyes. He gave a short nod, then reached out to gently grasp one of my wet, red curls and twirl it around his fingers.

  “The color. It is much improved.” Then he grazed his knuckles down my cheek, frowning. “But your skin…”

  “Yeah, that might take a few days.”

  His hair, still a damp and disheveled mess of dark, soft curls, fell over his forehead as he looked down at me. His hand lingered on my jaw, his thumb moving in a soft, tender motion to touch the tip of my chin.

  Discomfort jimmied through me. Just as I started to back off, his expression turned distant, and he stepped away.

  “You may raid the kitchen,” he said in a brusque tone, then his hands went to his belt.

  Before I made it out, I heard his pants hit the floor.

  CHAPTER 73

  Strolling through the mostly empty library with her new BFF like they’d known each other for years, Principal Clarke laughed. “Tennis Zeus. I get it. He wore Tennis Zeus. That’s very funny.”

  Next to her, Psyche waved at Cristiano and me sitting at a large table set up in a back corner and covered with books and papers. Cristiano had shed his Sicarius gear for casual trousers and buttondown shirt. His hair was once again gelled into smooth waves.

  “See, I told you Principal Clarke,” Psyche said as the two women approached. “I picked up all her assignments and have had Mr. Cacciatori tutoring her the entire afternoon. Her teachers thought it an excellent idea to help her catch up. ”

  “Your generosity to our more needy students is admirable, Mrs. Rose,” the principal said. “You too, Mr. Cacciatori. Aurora, I hope you take full advantage of this fine opportunity.”

  After a few more pleasantries, the two wandered off, the principal saying, “Please call me Angie. And you must come to dinner sometime. We’d have so much to talk about. I’ve never met a fellow ancient history buff with such extensive knowledge.”

  Well, duh. Easy when you lived it.

  Psyche had covered for me well. Even had the office call my parents to explain the whole tutoring business with Cristiano and the fact that I’d be late, but not to worry because Mr. Cacciatori would be driving me home.

  When they’d gone, Cristiano said, “I still believe I should inspect this safe room where you have ensconced Heather.”

  “I told you, no.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Are we not over this lack of trust?”

  “Apparently not.”

  After we’d arrived back in Gossamer Falls, he’d helped me smuggle Heather through the dark hallways of the high school basement. He’d transferred her from his shoulder to mine, luckily she was petite, and jabbed her with a needle.

  “What was that?”

  “Vitamins,” he’d said, then gone to secure our story with Psyche while I lugged little Miss Heavier-Than-She-Looked to the safest, most secure place I could think of.

  The sanctuary.

  Using the double-spiral symbols hidden in the walls to open secret passageways, I’d navigated the tunnels, electric lamps in the walls ca-chunking to life to light my way with their warm, golden glow.

  Flint’s spiral design had one smooth, swirly side while the other end was a boxy geometric that reminded me of a Greek key pattern. During our endless hours mapping the tunnels, the Boys and I had also discovered some markings of just one spiral or the other. All the swirly ones opened for me, but the geometric ones didn’t. As I’d hurried along, I’d come across a single geometric spiral every so often and touched it just for fun, but as usual, none of them had reacted. It was worth a try, but I didn’t sweat it. Jayden was working on figuring it out, and I currently had more pressing concerns.

  I’d finally made it to the mini-apartment in the
cavernous space where I’d dumped the snoring Heather on Lizzy’s bed. After leaving a note telling her to stay put and that I’d return later, I’d met Cristiano at the library, where I was now on pins and needles and finding it difficult to concentrate.

  “Still no news on what the heck happened at Novo? Are the Hex Boys all right? Is there a manhunt, or girlhunt, for Heather?”

  “Keep studying.” Cristiano waved a hand at the papers and books while typing on his cell phone.

  “But—”

  His cell buzzed and he answered it, standing up to pace as he had a quiet conversation in some language I didn’t understand. Latin again, I think. Who speaks Latin? Finally, he said, “Ciao,” and hung up.

  “Well?”

  He held up an index finger, then tapped on his phone with one hand while grabbing a chair and setting it next to me. He eased himself down, sitting so close our thighs touched, then put an arm around the back of my chair and used the other hand to hold the phone in front of us so we could both watch the video he’d cued up on the screen.

  At first it was only various short clips of the attack on Novo. Loathsome lizard demons at the front gates bursting from the green bubbles. Helicopters racing across the sky laying down gunfire—thankfully not the one that had come after us. All of which I’d already seen in my vision or experienced in terrifying live action.

  Then the video cut to two jumpsuit guards bursting from a building, guns blazing. Between them they dragged a girl wearing patient garb. She struggled to free herself, but one man jerked her forward while the other reeled back his arm and threw something toward the building.

  A second later the Novo complex was rocked by a massive kaboom! The explosion blew out doors and windows and shattered a huge chunk of the building. Smoke and debris shot into the air.

  The girl ducked, her dark hair flying across her face in a crazy mess. Three black choppers dove into view, flying toward the ground so fast it seemed they would crash. But at the last minute, all three noses lifted in unison, and the machines hovered over the girl and her captors.