Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1)

by Lauretta Hignett

  But now, he wasn’t alone. Alex Sorensen was up on the desk with him, one hand wrapped around the assassin’s arm where he gripped the dagger, holding it high in the air and away from his body.

  The other hand was wrapped around the man’s throat. Alex squeezed both, his knuckles whitening. The man in black let out a tortured gurgle, his face scarlet. He struggled, trying to move, but Alex only squeezed tighter, his blazing blue eyes and tensed jaw betraying his terrible rage.

  His anger was glorious. He looked like a furious, avenging angel.

  My vision blurred; I blinked frantically to clear it. Dale drew me closer, and with a deftness that I would marvel over later, he kicked the phone cord with one foot, knocking the cordless off the desk and into his lap. In a flash, he’d summoned security.

  But they were going to be too late too.

  Alex Sorensen flexed his biceps, pulled the assassin closer. “Who sent you?” His voice was a low rumble.

  Choking, his face almost blue, eyes rolling back in his head, the dark stranger shook frantically, trying to formulate an answer. Alex relaxed his grip on the man’s throat slightly but increased his hold on the hand that held the dagger. I could hear the bones crunch as he crushed the man’s fingers in his grip.

  The dagger fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

  But the tension eased on the assassin’s throat. As soon as the man could flex his jaw, I watched him crack it open. Instead of answering Alex, he swept his head sideways to his shoulder and bit down on a bead that decorated his dirty black robe.

  “No!” Alex gave an angry shout; his hand came up to the man’s throat.

  But it was too late. The man’s eyes were wide and his expression strangely triumphant, but the light in his eyes soon died as foam started streaming from his mouth.

  Chapter Eight

  “Goddamnit.” Alex dropped his hands, and the man crumpled onto the desktop. His head and shoulders slid off the side, dangling precariously.

  His face angled toward us. His eyes were bloody. Alex’s chokehold had burst all the blood vessels in the stranger’s eyes, and they stared sightlessly. Sticky foam dripped out of his mouth, his lips set in a grotesque leer.

  “Ew!” Dale pulled me into a tighter hug and dragged me away. “Getawaygetawaygetaway…”

  I had no trouble complying. Dale and I scrambled to our feet and backed out from behind the reception desk, clutching each other.

  Alex Sorensen frowned down at the dead man, and with a lithe, almost casual step, he jumped off the desk, barely making a sound as he landed. It struck me as odd that such a big man could do that so quietly.

  Then, it struck me as odd that I could think about anything other than the fact that a black-robed stranger had tried to kill me.

  “Okay. What the hell was that?” Dale’s big brown eyes were perfectly round. “Where did that guy come from? What was he doing?”

  “I…. I don’t know.”

  Dale swooshed me around so he could look me in the eye. “Eve, are you okay? Was that guy… was he trying to kill you?”

  I shot a glance at Alex, but he was standing very still, staring at me. There was a strange look of expectation on his face.

  I was as clueless as Dale. “I have no idea,” I answered flatly. “He just walked in, spat out some mumbo-jumbo, and tried to slit my throat. You know, the usual.”

  Alex cocked his head quizzically. The expression sat oddly on his face—the furrowed brow, narrowed eyes. I got the feeling he wasn’t often surprised.

  “What do you mean?” Alex said softly, his tone low. I shivered. The sound of his voice reminded me again of distant thunder; this time, it was deep and rolling, with an undercurrent of darkness. “What do you mean, the usual?” he asked again.

  I shrugged. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  He took a step closer to me, his expression hardening. “I still don’t understand.” His laser-beam stare shot over to Dale; he assessed my friend quickly and dismissed him... then his gaze returned to me. His lips parted; there was a question in his eyes he was trying to decide how to phrase...

  The outside door banged, and two of the night security team rushed in, guns drawn.

  Alex took a step back from me and held his hands out to the side slightly, clearly to show that he had no weapons. Not that it would matter; the guy could clearly snap me like a twig in an instant.

  Like he’d just snapped the man in black.

  “Stand down, Security!” Dale shouted, clearly relishing the drama now that the danger had passed.

  “What the hell, Dale?” Mickey, the night security guard, yelled back. “What’s going on?” Mickey’s partner, Steve, rushed in behind him, sweeping the lobby with his gun.

  “Whoa,” Micky gasped when he saw the dead assassin on the desk. Both security guards holstered their weapons and slowly walked toward the corpse.

  “The threat has been eliminated, Security,” Dale shouted back.

  “I can see that, dickwad.” Mickey shot a quick look at Alex, but his gaze returned to the body immediately. “Oh, God,” he said, looking panicked. “What did you do to him, Dale?”

  “Oh, he was the one that was doing all the doing, Mick.” Dale’s hand fluttered on his chest. “This dude walked in and tried to stab Eve.”

  “Oh.” Mickey surveyed the body while his partner radioed the police. “So he didn’t have a reservation?”

  “Nope.” Dale cleared his throat and turned to Alex. “Just so you know, sir, while it is true that Revelations is very exclusive, it’s not entirely normal for people to kill for a reservation here.”

  “I got it.” Alex nodded. There was no humor in his eyes at all. In fact, his eyes never left my face. I squirmed under his assessment. It was almost as penetrating as that knife would have been.

  Dale seemed to remember that Alex was a guest. “Sir, would you like to sit down? Or I can take you back to your bungalow?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mickey ran his fingers through his hair in panic. The most he had ever had to deal with was the odd rowdy, drunk CEO. It was clear that a dead body on the reception desk was out of his league. “So, did he say anything? Or did he just come in, knife swinging?”

  Suddenly, they were all looking at me. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to summon the breath to make a sound. Desperately, I looked back to Dale.

  He took the hint. “He was talking to Eve; I don’t know what he was saying. I was by her feet trying to get that damn printer to work. Next thing I knew the guy had jumped the desk, pulled her up into a headlock, and he was about to slit her throat.”

  Mickey stared at me in horror. He was a lovely guy, a family man with a great sense of humor. This had been the most dangerous thing that had ever happened at Revelations, and I felt bad for causing it. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

  I nodded. “I’m fine.” My voice croaked.

  Mickey nodded. He gave me a quick, reassuring smile, and turned back to the corpse. “So what happened to him, then?” He reached forward and gave the corpse a prod with his index finger and shuddered.

  “Cyanide,” Dale gasped dramatically. Now that he wasn’t scared, he was keen to milk this moment for all it was worth. “He bit his shoulder, and his mouth started foaming. Cyanide, for sure.”

  Mickey frowned. “He walked in here to try and kill someone, and when that didn’t work, he killed himself?”

  The front door banged, and I jumped. The same two police officers who had just left walked back in. “We didn’t even get out of the car park,” the older cop said gruffly. The younger one pulled out his notebook expectantly. They came over, unhurried, and grimaced when they spotted the body on the desk. The younger officer poked the body with his pen. “Well, well, well. What happened here?”

  “Cliche.” I didn’t mean to mutter it out loud, but apparently I was still in shock.

  Unfortunately, everyone heard me. Dale fixed his gaze on me. “Honey, are you okay?”

&
nbsp; Mickey put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a bit pale. You look like you might faint.”

  There were black spots coloring my eyesight, and I was shaky as hell.

  But I wasn’t a fainter. What I was, was getting very, very angry.

  “Well, no, genius,” I snapped. “Some homeless dude just tried to stab me in the throat. And then he poisoned himself right in front of me. It hasn’t been a great night.” I jabbed my thumb toward the dead man. “I don’t particularly want to stand around here answering questions with a decaying corpse beside me.”

  The policemen raised their eyebrows, but I was beyond caring. Somehow, I wasn’t too pissed to notice that a tiny light sparked in Alex’s eyes, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk. He obviously found me amusing.

  I, on the other hand, was not amused.

  I pointed at them. “I know I’m probably going to have to answer questions, but I’m not doing it here. Dale, I’m clocking off. Tell Martin, when you can find him.” I pulled off my name badge and threw it to him. It bounced around in his arms for a moment before he got a grip on it. He looked delighted he’d managed to catch it.

  Alex was grinning openly now. It annoyed me. I pointed at him. “You can start with him,” I told the officers. “He was the one who pulled the dead guy off me to start with. You can catch me back at staff quarters. I’ll be by the bar.” I turned on my heel and stalked out.

  Chapter Nine

  As far as police interviews went, it was the most comfortable one I’d ever done. Forty minutes after I stalked out of the lobby, the officers caught up with me by the pool in the staff bar.

  My feet were dangling in the water, and I had a margarita in my hand.

  The night was still very black, with thick clouds blocking the stars, but the threat of the early thunderstorm seemed to have eased away. The air was still velvety warm, with only two more hours before the dawn would chill the air very slightly, and an orange glow would chase away the darkness. I stretched out by the pool, slightly hidden from sight by the fronds of a giant palm. It was just the way I liked it. Hidden away, but with a good view of everyone else.

  The police interview didn’t take very long. I didn’t have much to say, anyway. I’d never seen the dead man before; I didn’t know what he wanted. I had no idea why he wanted to kill me. When the officer asked if the man had spoken to me, if he had said anything, I said yes. I didn’t like lying—I didn’t typically do it, which is why I found it odd that I’d lied so easily to them earlier about Alex.

  Of course, they asked me what the man had said. I told the truth again; I told them I didn’t understand the words he had used.

  And I didn’t. I had no idea what that man had been talking about.

  The officer didn’t press the point. They left quickly, with promises that they would keep me posted if they found out why he’d attacked me, and why he’d killed himself.

  And so I was left by the pool with just over an hour before Dale and Clover finished their shift, and an hour and a half to go before the courtesy bus would leave to take me back home to Margot. I closed my eyes and breathed in the warm, sultry night air like a tonic.

  I was so glad I was going home.

  Margot’s house was a sanctuary for me, like Revelations was supposed to be a sanctuary. But now one of my safety-holes had succumbed to the strange, violent drama that somehow had followed me around my whole life.

  I’d feel better once I’d gotten to Margot’s. Even if she was barely even there.

  Margot herself had an affinity for violent drama; she was an ER doctor at Cairns Base Hospital, the busiest in the city. She was a workhorse, often pulling double and triple shifts. She was working through her old family trauma in her own way, the most pure way—she was helping other victims heal.

  Margot was technically my aunt, but she was only six years older than me. The youngest of six girls, she was lucky enough to be born at the end of her father’s reign of terror, when he was old and his reflexes slow.

  My mother was the oldest, and she bore the brunt of it for all of her childhood. It shaped her; violence toward her was expected. It was the norm.

  Margot, thankfully, rebelled.

  I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to inhale some of Margot’s enormous strength into me. I was so lucky that she’d rescued me.

  There was a rush of noise, whoops, and catcalls as fifteen or so rowdy night porters poured into the bar. A good portion of them would be off for the weekend, so I could expect a good hour of trashy exuberance from them until we all piled on to the courtesy bus back to Cairns. Watching them would be a good distraction for me. But I edged back farther behind the palm anyway, so I could watch without having to engage at all. I liked being on the outside. I didn’t need anyone to notice me.

  Toby, on bartending duty and eyeing the boys with a grimace, deposited a fresh margarita beside me and whisked my empty glass away.

  He made a great cocktail. I felt the tequila warm my cold blood, while the lime and ice cooled my hot skin. Like any good bartender, Toby knew exactly what would help me. The alcohol was doing its job, soothing the rough edges of tonight’s nightmare, placing them firmly in the realm of crazy shit that was not my fault. And he left me alone, which I appreciated the most.

  Behind me, the swooping branches of the fern shivered; someone had crept around the far side of the pool to join me. I grimaced, then smoothed my features out to greet them while mentally planning my escape route in case it was a boy. It wasn’t their fault that I was damaged.

  My heart bounced out of my chest when I saw who was settling down beside me.

  It was Alex Sorensen.

  How did I not see him coming? How did I not even sense him? My instincts were pretty finely honed. For such a big guy, he moved like a ninja.

  “You’re not supposed to be here, you know.” I let my gaze drift back toward the sparkling milky-blue water in the pool, so I didn’t lose my concentration in the perfect planes of his face. I wasn’t in the mood to be nice. And thankfully, here in staff quarters, I didn’t have to be.

  I could feel Alex smirk. “Not supposed to be, but I’m allowed to be, I believe.”

  “How did you get here? Did someone direct you?”

  “No.” He stretched out his feet, and, like me, dipped them in the cool water next to mine, and sighed with pleasure. “That’s nice. You’re lucky you’ve got a pool back here. This place treats you well as employees, huh?”

  “It does. We get a lot of perks.”

  “Must make up for having to deal with spoiled assholes all the time.”

  “You’d think so.” My innate drive to do the right thing was compelling me to turn and face the person I was talking to, and I finally gave in.

  My stomach gave a squeeze. He sprawled out beside me easily; relaxed. The lithe grace of his hard-muscled body was enough to give anyone palpitations. He wore a simple white t-shirt and khaki shorts, but they draped and caressed his figure like a finely tailored suit. His hair was back in his topknot, emphasising his chiseled jaw and beautiful cheekbones. His skin looked like caramel in the darkness. I squashed that feeling down deep and tried to maintain the thread of conversation.

  “Most of our guests are not assholes,” I said, trying to breathe evenly.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true. I did a stint at the front desk of a three-star motel before I started here. The people there were much ruder, in general.”

  “I wonder why that is,” he said idly, pulling a foot out of the water and splashing it back down softly.

  “People are people, no matter where you go. Some are lovely, some are assholes. And luckily for us, a good chunk of the guests have high profiles and don’t want their nice reputations sullied by acting like idiots. So we get a better proportion of good behavior than you would at a run-of-the-mill hotel.”

  Alex shrugged, and I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall, as if the careless motion were a miraculous feat
of nature. “But it must be hard to be surrounded by so many wealthy people,” he said. “To be inundated with top-tier, first-world problems.”

  “Not really.” I dragged my eyes away from him. “It’s one of the things I love about working here. I’m pretty consistently amazed by how unhappy rich people can be. It brings life into perspective. Money really doesn’t fix anything.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “You’re different.”

  I turned to look straight at him. “I’m not, actually. A thousand other people have said exactly the same thing, a long time before me. In a thousand different ways.” I waved my hand around airily. “Mo’ money, mo’ problems.”

  He just grinned. “Yeah, but you mean it. Nobody else does.”

  “They do. You’re just cynical.”

  “I am. But you are different.”

  That annoyed me. “You don’t know me,” I said.

  “I know people.”

  “Do you?”

  He met my gaze evenly and nodded.

  “I bet you meet a lot of assholes in the arms-dealing game,” I said flippantly, trying to hide my chagrin at breaking eye contact first.

  “Of course. The worst.”

  “And because of that, you think you know people?”

  He laughed. It was a beautiful sound, gravelly and deep but strangely light at the same time. I was reminded again of the sound of distant thunder. “I travel a lot. I’ve been around the world a few times,” he shrugged, and quirked the side of his mouth up in a crooked smile. “It’s funny, because I agree with you completely. People are people no matter where you go. Some are angels, some are demons.”

  I turned to him sharply, and he caught my eye. There was a challenge in his gaze.

  I was in no mood to be coy. I lifted my chin. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said smoothly. A smile was playing around on his lips again.