Velvety blue eyes peeked out from under a shock of chocolate brown hair as the boy offered his hand. “Ma’am. I’m Andy Tail— Wow.” He grabbed his stomach, right when mine did the same fast drop and bounce. He glanced at Tom and Pete, then back to the two remaining young men in the room still heading my way. He’d felt it, too, and with a chuckle that seemed more from nerves than humor, he finished, “Tailgate. Andy Tailgate. Hello, Mr. Smith, sir.”
Eli shook the boy’s hand after I did, glancing my way from the corner of his eye when he felt Andy’s dormant nephilim power. He straightened, wearing the same tense smile I’d plastered on my face.
Three nephilim living in the same house as my half brother? Coincidence? Not friggin’ likely. And after shaking hands with the two other boys, brothers who my stomach told me were also both nephilim, I was convinced nothing about the situation was an accident.
“No. Not likely a coincidence.” Eli’s voice set off a rush of goose bumps down my spine.
I shivered, lifting my chin, hoping no one noticed.
“It’s perfect, right? She’s perfect,” Andy said to the brothers after they’d shaken my hand and stepped back with matching grimaces turned to grins. He folded his arms across his belly, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and looked to Pete. “You gotta get Abe.”
“He’s blogging.” Pete shoved his hands in his pockets, his face creased with discomfort. He looked at me. “Abe knows you’re here, though. He’ll be down when he’s done.”
I nodded like I understood, but then asked. “Who’s Abe?”
“Abram Marino?” He’d made it a question as though I ought to recognize the name. I did, but he wasn’t supposed to know that.
Espionage is exhausting. I shook my head, pretending the name meant nothing.
“Oh. I just assumed the realty company gave you him as a contact.” Pete hiked a thumb toward the staircase. “He’s kind of in charge of things when it comes to the house.”
“When it comes to everything.” Andy chuckled with the other boys while still hugging his belly.
Pete threw them a chastising glance that shut off the low, male laughter like a switch. He ran his hand through his hair, then he turned a polished smile to me. “Abe just kind of knows things before the rest of us. That’s all.”
He could’ve meant Abe was well informed and diligent, but I doubted it. As the daughter of an archangel, my abilities had begun to surface years before my powers had been unleashed by Tommy’s sword and I’d been recruited into the ranks of illorum. I’d been able to feel others’ emotions, and that ability gave me an edge over normal humans. I wouldn’t be surprised if something similar happened with my half brother.
When Jukar decided the time was right, he’d likely send one of his goons to Abram with a black gibborim sword to fully bring him into his powers. Until then, if he was like me, the kid’s powers might leak like an old tire, a small trickle of ability that only hinted at the true power within. It’s not easy canning up that much angelic DNA inside a human body, and Abram and I had the most potent angel mojo surging through our veins. Poor kid. Poor me.
My heart picked up its pace. I couldn’t wait to meet him. Had his powers made his childhood as much of a challenge as mine had? How alike were we? How different?
One difference was clear. I had never been surrounded by so many nephilim at once. “There are twelve of you, right?”
I would bet they were all nephilim. I knew Abram was, but did they? Just as they’d reacted to me, and me to them, they’d react to each other every time they came near. It was a nephilim thing that most people never understood and lessened the more you were around the same person. But did these guys know what it meant? Did they know what they were? More importantly, was their gathering an accident or by design?
“Jukar had a hand in it, no doubt.” Eli’s words in my thoughts were like a breath-stealing kiss.
I sucked a quick breath. I couldn’t take it. “Yep. Thanks. Let’s talk later. Okay?” I slammed my mind shut to him, like tensing a muscle, before he could say another word, before he could touch me again. Crap. How was I supposed to keep him out of my bed when everything he did made me want to pull the covers over our heads and forget the world?
I looked his way. Eli’s dark brows knitted tight, his eyes questioning and maybe a little hurt. A look of doubt and mistrust that became more and more familiar crossed his face again, and his body stiffened, the irrational emotions of a Fallen stirring irritation. Ugh. I shrugged, trying to apologize with my expression. But it wasn’t the same as hearing my voice in his head, and I just couldn’t do that. Not if I wanted Eli to earn back his grace. I couldn’t keep tempting us both.
“Yeah, twelve, for now.” Pete kept his hands safely shoved in his Dockers pockets and tossed his head to get his falling bangs from his eyes. “The house fits thirteen. Jude bailed on us last semester. We’re interviewing potentials, but so far we haven’t found anyone who really fits in. Until we find someone, Abe and I have our own rooms. I can show you around if you want.”
I forced a smile and nodded. I mean, I was supposed to be there to see the house, right? “Sure. That would be great.”
Pete led the way from the living room, back through the entry hall and into the dining room. The high-gloss table filled the room, long enough to fit eighteen. We stopped, staring at the room appreciatively, nodding at the big china hutch and the classy bar cart in the corner.
“You guys host a lot of dinner parties?”
Pete rolled his shoulders. “Not really. We host a lot of meetings and a few fundraisers, but usually it’s just us.”
“Fundraisers?”
Like I’d opened some weird self-imposed floodgate, the golden-haired Pete stood straighter, eager to explain. “Yeah. All the time. Political fundraisers, debates, registration drives. We even had a couple congressmen and one senator spend the night before.”
“And you’re all Republicans?” Young, good-looking white men from affluent families? It seemed like a safe bet.
He scoffed. “Hell no. Independent.”
“Right.” Okay, so that would’ve been my next guess.
“At least that’s the closest party we identify with, but even they lose track of what’s important, what we need to do to get this country, get the world, back on track.” Pete’s blue eyes lit up, his body suddenly taller, energized.
“Yeah,” Andy said from the pack following behind. “We’re starting our own party. It’s called The United Party. Cool, huh?”
I looked at him and could almost see the idealism shining off him, all sparkly and new. Enthusiasm lit his eyes and made his smile wide, his back straight. I glanced at his housemates and saw the same “we’re going to fix the world” optimism glowing from each of them. Kids.
“Very cool.” Who was I to squash their ambitions with a reality check on American politics, corporate backing, and the influences of lobbyists? Besides, human politics were meaningless in the grand scheme of things. There was a real war going on, a war between good and evil, Heaven and Hell, and these boys, these nephilim, were exactly the kind of people pulled out of their comfy, ignorant lives to fight on the front lines. Let them have their human dreams and ideals while they could.
“Abe does a daily vlog about what’s going on, what we’ve accomplished, and what still needs to be done. It’s awesome. Have you seen it? We’ve got almost a million subscribers.” Andy beamed. The kid was seriously into this stuff.
I shook my head. “No. Sorry. I don’t really follow politics.”
“It’s more than just politics.” Pete rubbed the back of his neck as though the explanation was terribly complicated to explain. “Abe talks about what’s going to happen in the world, not just politically, but socially, economically, everything. He does a whole report on what he’s been told and what we should do about it.”
My smile dimmed. A bad feeling squirmed in the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean, told? Who tells him this stuff? Where does he get his i
nfo?”
The boys traded wary glances before Pete sighed. He planted his feet wide, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back on his heels. “Okay. So any time we tell people about Abe and his sources they either laugh in our faces or just walk away. But they always stop laughing when Abe turns out to be right.”
“So who are Abe’s sources?”
“They’re—”
“Shut up, Pete.” Jim broke his silence. “If Abe wants to tell her, let him do it.”
Pete glanced Jim’s way, irritation creasing his brow. He wasn’t happy at all that his frat brother had put a plug in his info purge, but he dropped his hands and stood straight. “If we don’t tell people what he can do, how do you expect them to know why they should listen?”
“He’ll show them.” Jim stopped in front of his frat brother and poked a finger into his chest. “Until he does, they never believe anyway.”
Pete shoved the finger away, glaring. “She’s different. She’s one of us. You felt it. He’d want her to know.”
“Know what? Who are his sources?” I asked again, already suspecting the answer.
“Angels,” a voice said from the entry hall outside the dining room. We all turned just in time to watch a small entourage of young men file in to join us. The floor of my stomach dropped out so hard and fast my knees went weak.
Damn, I was right. Every one of the boys in the house was a nephilim. And I had a feeling my little brother knew it. Maybe they all did.
The third one through the archway spoke in the same voice as before. “They’re talking about the angels who visit me. Crazy, right? Except I think you, of all people, know it’s not. Isn’t that right, Ms. Hellsbane?”
“Are you Abram?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
We didn’t look a thing alike. To begin with, he was shorter than me, which, at five-foot-four, is really sad for a guy, and he had strawberry blond hair, more blond than strawberry. He was cute, with green apple eyes, straight teeth, dimpled cheeks, and wavy hair that could use a trim. He dressed well, like the other boys, in a white buttoned shirt, red tie, and gray dress slacks. He’d rolled up his sleeves to the elbows and shaved his face except for a narrow strip of hair down the center of his chin. Normally I detest facial hair, but it didn’t look bad on the kid.
Abram stood with his feet planted, hands in the front pockets of his slacks, a cocky smile hanging lopsided across his freckled face. The other boys gathered around him like the plumes on a peacock, all of them towering behind him, loyalty practically radiating off of them. Abram was definitely his father’s son.
The young man smiled. “Hello, Emma.”
I flinched at his use of my first name. I thought I was undercover. I’ve been wrong before…occasionally. “Do you know me?”
“I know of you.” He winked at me, his ginger eyelashes nearly translucent. “I was told an advocate was coming for me. I just assumed it was you based on our reaction to one another. Plus, the realty company told us your name.”
“They did?” Andy’s nose wrinkled.
Pete elbowed Andy in the chest. “Shut it.”
The other boy huffed in pain and rubbed the spot, scowling at his frat brother.
They told him an advocate was coming? Jukar wanted the kid kept in the dark. Something didn’t track. Was someone on Jukar’s team deliberately defying him? Oh wait. I don’t care. “Advocate. Hadn’t heard that.” I tugged the side of my skirt lower out of habit. “The realty company told you that?”
My brother winked, very flirty and super creepy. “Not exactly.”
Oh, that so was not gonna happen. Eww.
Before I could push him for an answer, the other boys stepped forward, one by one, to introduce themselves, several of them offering excuses for why they couldn’t stay and adding polite apologies. A few minutes later all the boys had filed out, and the only people left in the dining room were Eli, Abram, and me.
Abram glanced over his shoulder as if to ensure the last of his brothers had left, then looked to me with another wink. “Guess we should talk.”
You have no idea, frat boy. “Who told you about me?”
“The angels.” Abram rested a hand on his puffed chest, grinning.
“What was the angel’s name?”
Abram’s strawberry brows went up. “You believe me? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I said, totally serious. “What’s his name?”
He shrugged and snorted. “They’ve never said. I’m not really in a position to ask.”
“They?” I’d just assumed Jukar, in his twisted sense of justice, had been feeding his kid enough information to keep him ahead of the human curve. But who else was visiting Abram? Did Daddy Dearest know?
“Yeah.” He pulled one hand from the front pocket of his slacks and reached up to scratch his head, looking away like he needed to think about it. “I’ve been visited by seven or eight different angels. A couple I’ve only met once, but the rest show up at least once a month. One of them gave me this.” He held out his right hand, flashing the ugliest ring I’d ever seen.
Except I had seen this ring before. The thing was huge, way too big for the kid’s stubby fingers. Made from some dark metal, it had a pentagram carved on top and small humanoid figures on the sides. The creepy little people had horned, animal-like heads and vertically set rubies for eyes. The ring was nothing but trouble.
Eli stepped closer. “The Ring of Solomon.”
“You can’t keep that, Abram.” I reached out on reflex, but he pulled away even quicker.
“Yes, I can.” He held his hand close to his chest, smiling as though he wasn’t sure I was seriously trying to take it.
“It’s not safe.” Eli shifted closer, his hand flexing as though he considered snatching the ring off of my little brother’s finger. “Whoever gave that to you has put you in great danger.”
Abram angled away, his brow creasing at Eli’s movement. “An angel gave it to me. I think they know what they’re doing.”
“You’d be surprised.” I patted my hips for my cell phone, which I’d left in the car. Crap. “I need to run out and grab my phone.”
“Go. I’ll stay with Abram.” Eli looked at my brother. “Perhaps you could show me where you…vlog? Is that correct?”
Abram’s green eyes stared at Eli, full of mistrust. “Yeah. I guess. Follow me.”
It took everything I had to walk at human speed behind them into the entry hall. But the second they turned to go up the stairs, I teleported to the limo outside.
The car still rocked from the force and speed of my arrival as I searched the seats for my purse. It wasn’t there. But it had to be. I twisted around and reached under the seats, blindly groping through the space-time vacuum that exists under all car seats. I found a poorly folded map, a wadded, old napkin, a few putrefied fries, and three pens, but no purse. On my hands and knees I crawled across the compartment to check the other long seat. It was dark as pitch under there, but I found thirty-six cents, two peanut shells, a lip gloss, my lip gloss, a tube of hand lotion, my hand lotion, and finally the rest of the spilled contents of my purse. Awesome.
I grabbed my purse strap and pulled it out, reaching under again and again until I was sure I’d found everything that had spilled out. Everything except my phone. My face on the black carpeted floor, I crawled and stretched and groped and finally found the stupid thing on the opposite end of the bench seat in the farthest corner. Of course.
I didn’t even bother hopping back onto the seat before I ran through my contacts to find Mihir Thingal. I hadn’t spoken to him since college. What were the odds he hadn’t changed his number? Sitting on the floor of the limo, I thumbed his name and waited for it to connect.
After the fourth ring, I had my answer. “You have reached the voicemail of Mihir Thingal. I can’t answer the phone right now, so please do not hang up and call back another fifteen times in hopes I’ll be annoyed enough by the constant ringing to answer. It won’t work, and
I will find you. Just leave a message.” Beep.
“Mihir. What the hell? You were supposed to keep the ring safe. Do the words ‘epic fail’ mean anything to you? Call me back. Oh, this is Emma…Emma Jane Hellsbane. From college. Hi. Now call me back.”
I thumbed the end button. Too pushy?
Chapter Six
When had the police arrived?
I closed the limo door behind me, slipping my cell phone into the snug pocket of my skirt. The marked car sat parked right behind the limo. Had I totally missed it when I teleported from the entry hall to the limo, or had it pulled up while I was on my hands and knees digging around under the seats?
Thanks to an ex-boyfriend, I knew a lot of Pittsburgh cops. Unfortunately, he’d gotten custody of most them in the breakup. In fairness, they were his friends to begin with. What were the odds whoever had come in that squad car was one of the few who didn’t hate me for breaking Officer Danny-boy’s heart? Not that I’d done it on purpose, and not that he hadn’t bounced right back two weeks later, hooking up with a new recruit, or so I’d heard. Crissy something. Whatever.
“Emma.” I flinched at the strange voice inside my head. “Emma, come quick. He’s going to kill them!”
I snapped my attention to the house, scanning up to the small arched windows on the third floor. It was Abram. I recognized his voice now. I didn’t know how he’d done it, and I knew I didn’t have time to ask questions.
My power swirled inside me, called up with a simple thought. I pictured the landing at the top of the stairs inside and took a step. With my next I was there, teleporting again up the second flight, then again down the hall, then again up the stairs at the end to Abram’s room. It was a series of movements, decisions made and executed, but still faster than any human could track, so it seemed that one moment I was on the sidewalk outside the house and the next I stood at the doorway to Abram’s third-floor room.
Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld) Page 8