Inception (The Reaping Chronicles, 1)

by Haviland, Teal

  He looked around the walls of the room again.

  No windows. So much for escape options.

  “Make yourselves comfortable.” The greeter remained focused only on Lucas, making him uncomfortable. “I’ll let them know you’re here.” Before she left, she turned and motioned to a small bar area. “There are some fine Brandy and Scotch choices if you’d care for anything to drink.” She shut the heavy doors behind her.

  “Jeez!” Lucas said in a slightly exasperated tone.

  Gabby put her finger to her lips. He did as she wanted and said nothing else while they waited in silence for the Elders.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Lucas heard the doors begin to open again and then saw Gabby stand to face them. Lucas mimicked her and stood, as well—prepared to meet creatures he’d once thought were only of peoples’ imaginings.

  As the first Elder entered the room, the light from the fireplace seemed to reach further toward the doors as if to greet her. Although the fire’s golden light was what reflected off the vampire’s eyes, all Lucas could see was red.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Javan ~ An Obstacle

  Javan left the cozy scene on Haber Drive as soon as they all went into the house. Now that he remembered what happened in Lucas’s home, he couldn’t block the memory from his mind. It was like the replay button was stuck. Back in his loft, sitting comfortably on his patio with nothing to concern him except the cool breeze carried to him through the dark of night and the glass of whiskey in his hand, he allowed the images to consume his thoughts—letting his mind drift back seventeen years.

  He’d been following the family around for a couple of weeks, waiting for his chance to eliminate Mason Hunt and his bloodline. It was Mara who told Javan about Mason’s lineage being related to either the arrival, or destruction, of the Destroyer. The angel who’d been sent to protect Mason was a Cherubim, just as Mara had been before she was cast from Heaven.

  As soon as he heard the reason the man was being protected, Javan made the decision to kill Mason. But finding him had proved to be more difficult than Javan had originally thought. It took almost two decades to find him. When he did, he realized he would have to eliminate Mason’s daughter and grandson, too.

  It took several more weeks of constant snooping, eavesdropping, and spying by him and Mara before he was satisfied that Mason had no other descendants. It was just the three of them. His opportunity to kill all three at once came when Mason’s daughter, Hannah, brought her child to Mason’s home.

  He’d arrived at the house, simply walked up to the door, and knocked. Mason answered the door himself, but before he could speak, Javan thrust him into the wall fifteen feet behind him. Mason hit hard enough to shake the walls of the house, then landed on the floor. Instinctively, Javan knew death would consume Mason quickly and diverted his attention to the stunned audience.

  Hannah’s husband, Stephen, was next. Javan hadn’t planned on killing Stephen, but he lunged at him. If he’d just sat and continued staring blankly, Javan would have let him live.

  Maybe.

  But he had to try and be the hero. He died from a broken neck.

  Hannah died a little slower. Javan smirked at the memory. She’d started screaming that he would be punished by God, that he was going to go to Hell.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  Javan suffocated her, covering her mouth and nose with his hand. But he didn’t let her die until she watched the life drain out of her infant son’s face first—tears had streamed out of her eyes faster than Javan knew was possible.

  Then the angel came.

  He knew as soon as she walked through the door what she was and that others would be coming. As he turned to the back door to exit, he felt the whip hit his face, then the burning of its scorching fibers as it sliced easily through his flesh. He was able to flee before he found himself out-numbered. As he vanished into the night, the angel in the house released a shrill scream.

  It had taken nine months for his face to heal. The jagged scar often burned as though still fresh. But that’s what happens when a weapon designed for an angel is wielded. Not many angels could use the Sundering Whip. It took a great deal of practice and skill to use one with desired results. Javan knew the angel was talented in its use. If he’d been even slightly closer to her, the whip would have made quick work of removing his head from his body.

  Recalling the incident made the scar burn again, feeding his desire for revenge. Javan could have acquired a new body, one without the scar, but he rather liked the visual reminder of his first accomplishment on his path to becoming the most powerful and worshiped being in the universe. He never expected to find that angel again. He never imagined he might be able to settle the score. He now entertained the many ways he wanted her to suffer, but he knew he’d have to be careful.

  Javan began to wonder more about her, why she was not one of the Fallen, but also clearly not an active angel. She was aging.

  Why is she hanging around?

  Regardless, he had to keep in mind he was one of the Fallen, and because of that, he was weakened. Since she wasn’t damned, he didn’t know how much of her power Yahuwah had allowed her to keep. She kept at least one of her weapons, and there was no telling how many others she could use against him.

  It was getting dark. He wondered where Lucas had been all day. Gabrielle’s car hadn’t been in her driveway when he drove by on his way from, or back, to his loft. They were together—he knew they were. He felt the familiar mixture of rage and jealousy that sprang to life inside him anytime he thought of that boy with Gabrielle. His blood felt like it expanded in his veins, his pulse echoing in his head. It was maddening.

  Who was Lucas to the angel on Haber Drive?

  He’d have to do some digging himself, and through the use of others, to get his answers.

  He parked his car in the loft’s garage and entered the elevator. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, he saw Mara sitting by his door.

  “Where’ve you been?” she asked.

  “I could ask the same of you.” He smiled. An added glare showed it wasn’t friendly. “But since we aren’t each other’s keeper, fuck off.”

  Javan opened the door and walked in, leaving Mara behind to close it.

  “Lock it, Mara.”

  He felt her eyes on him as he walked away—studying him.

  “Since when do you lock the door?”

  Javan sighed in an exaggerated fashion and threw his keys on the kitchen counter.

  “Since when, Mara, do you find it necessary to play twenty questions with me? I want the door locked from now on. Period.”

  Javan poured them both a drink. He needed her loosened up and tipsy so she didn’t have her radar scanning him or his loft so thoroughly. “Drink up. We have a long night ahead of us.”

  Mara took the drink hesitantly from Javan, who smiled at her over the top of his glass, and drank his in one big swallow. Mara followed suit. He was sure she could tell he planned on getting her drunk right along with him.

  She set her glass back down, and he poured them both another large shot, then took his glass and the bottle of tequila to the couch, flipping on the TV. The news was reporting the sad discovery of a police officer who had apparently committed suicide. A smile moved across Javan’s face and he turned the volume down.

  “I already know how that story ends.” He focused his scowl back on her.

  He had so much on his mind, and the last thing he needed to concern himself with was the local news. All he wanted to do right now was tell Mara what he needed from her, and then have her get the hell out of his way.

  And out of my loft.

  “Mara, I’m going to need you to be out a lot this week gathering information.”

  There was another reason he needed her to be as scarce
as possible for at least the next week, but she didn’t need to know about the impending visit from Cecily. Especially since he was looking forward to spending some more time with his new Qalal friend.

  “Sure. What do you need me to find out?”

  “I need you to do some research into the background of Lucas and that woman he lives with. I don’t know what her name is, but I’d venture a guess you know Lucas’s full name, so start there.”

  “Sure, it’s Watkins. Why?”

  He shot Mara a look, causing her to flinch.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Mara … how old is Lucas?” The name, Watkins, was Mason’s daughter’s last name.

  He could see Mara trying to figure out why it triggered such a hostile response and maybe wondering what her next answer might bring out of him. Cautiously, she responded.

  “Seventeen. He’ll be eighteen sometime in April. I can’t remember the date.”

  Javan stared at the TV, but he didn’t see its images. All he saw was the scene from seventeen years ago, the baby Hannah held in her arms—the one she cried over as she watched him die.

  Time seemed to stop as he realized he may not have succeeded in destroying Mason Hunt’s bloodline, after all. He could see Mara trying to say something to him, but he didn’t hear her. Instead, he heard his pulse echoing in his head again, thrumming loudly past his ears. As he contemplated his probable failure, he felt an inhuman growl begin deep inside him, coming from depths he didn’t know his hate and anger could reach. As the reality of who Lucas most likely was took root in his mind, added to Gabrielle’s relationship with him, Javan’s heart raced. Darkness caused by rage closed in around his vision. All he could see was that worthless boy. Lucas had just been in the way of him getting his love back. Now, he was a huge obstacle on his path to becoming the Destroyer.

  An obstacle I am going to take immense pleasure in eliminating.

  With a guttural sound escaping his body, unleashed into the freedom of his loft, a second glass in as many days shattered—destroyed in the hand of the demon imagining Lucas’s death.

  Chapter Fifty

  Lucas ~ New Truths

  Lucas watched as eight Elders walked, almost glided, into the room. They dressed in expensive suits and carried themselves purposely—refined in appearance and demeanor.

  All except one—the female Elder—the first to enter and whose eyes the firelight danced off. As Lucas considered her beauty, he found he only could describe her as … dazzling.

  She was svelte, dark hair styled in a sharply angled bob, and elegantly dressed in a fitted, full-length black gown that was slightly longer than the stretch of her long legs. A high slit beginning in the front and angling to the left caused the extra fabric to sway back and forth on the floor behind her as she walked, as though its purpose was to remove any trace of her footsteps. The neckline plunged deeply, and as she turned slightly, Lucas saw that the back plunged even deeper.

  They all looked to be in their twenties except for two, and they appeared to be no older than thirty-five.

  Lucas found it interesting that the physical appearance of most of the male Elders wouldn’t have drawn attention to them in any part of the world. Only two were exceptionally good-looking. But every one of them were exceptionally alluring. They all garnered his attention so strongly that it left him almost stunned. Or maybe the feeling was caused by one of their abilities. A way to make it easier to get their victim to do what they want.

  The Elders bowed their heads slightly to Gabby in greeting as each walked by her and took a seat across from them. If she was tense, it didn’t show. But he knew his own body language was bound to be transparent. Still, he was glad he came.

  At least, I will leave knowing the effect they can have on me.

  He felt his heart begin to betray him as it skipped a couple of beats, then sped up. The Qalal seemed to notice. Eight sets of eyes looked in his direction, staring at him incredulously—eyes belonging to bodies that also had a set of fangs each. He felt their eyes search him. Maybe they were trying to figure out why he was there.

  Or wondering how I will taste.

  Lucas felt a shiver begin to creep down his spine, and he suppressed it the best he could. The silence seemed to drag on for an unbearable amount of time. It was so quiet even he could hear his heartbeat. Just like the vampires seemed to be able to.

  How hard was it for them to resist their urge to pounce on him at that moment? To puncture his veins and release the warm, fresh nourishment he held beneath his frail skin?

  Finally, the first male to walk in the room spoke, never withdrawing his gaze from Lucas. Lucas tried to do as he was instructed by not returning the look for long. He was sure it made him look like terrified prey, but he didn’t care. This was far more intense than he’d imagined it would be.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Gabrielle?” the vampire asked in a flat tone, soaked with disinterest.

  Lucas wondered if this was the leader among leaders since he was the one who spoke. He appeared to be in his late twenties, brown hair, perfect skin, and looks that would make any woman fall at his feet—or fangs. He was tall but not overwhelmingly. What was overwhelming was his allure. Gabrielle had been spot on; Lucas was drawn to him—frightfully so. He was very glad she was here. There was no way he would make it out of this room, otherwise.

  “I’ll get to the point, Phillip,” she said in a calm, imposing voice.

  Lucas couldn’t fathom being able to form words and push them out of his mouth in their company. He was completely incapacitated.

  “Please.” Phillip smiled, but it didn’t alter his smug expression.

  “I had a vision. It involved an attack on a group of humans by Qalal.”

  Lucas finally felt them take their eyes off him, their interest piqued by Gabby’s statement—releasing him from their mental snare.

  Phillip seemed to ponder her words. When he answered, his tone remained the same, as did his expression. “Was it a provoked attack?”

  Lucas knew he was asking if the humans knew of the vampire’s existence. His thoughts flashed back to Gabby’s concern that he might be the cause of the attack. He still didn’t think his being here would turn out to be the reason.

  “I don’t believe so, but it was unclear. I wanted to meet with you in case you know of any rogue covens that might try something this brazen, and to make you aware it’s coming so you can assist me in hindering the occurrence all together. If it’s your desire to do so.”

  Lucas thought her last statement was wrought with a subtle warning. Based on the momentary shift in Phillip’s expression from arrogant to fearful and then back again, he would bet he was on target.

  “Gabrielle, you know it’s always our desire to assist you as much as we can. Have we not always done so in the past?” Phillip’s tone didn’t convey the fast shift Lucas noticed in his expression. It remained as flat as when he first spoke.

  “Yes, Phillip, you have. And it hasn’t gone without notice, I assure you.”

  With her reassurance, Lucas thought he noticed Phillip and the other Elders relax a little.

  “But,” Gabrielle continued, “difficult and dangerous times are approaching, as I’m sure your Seers have told you. I don’t know where some hearts are at this time. I’d like to believe your desire to be forgiven is still intact and not overcome by the Darkness that taunts you with the misery of your relentless, unquenched thirst. But how am I to be sure?”

  “There is no reason for us to falter, especially now. Our Seers, in fact, have brought to our attention many … differing scenarios. None of us knows which will come to pass. But we do know the fabric that makes up what humans think their world consists of is going to be altered,” he replied, making a point to glance at Lucas with a fleeting smirk when he said the word
humans—like they were insignificant. “Or, maybe a better choice of words would be … shredded.”

  Lucas noticed eyes on him again, and he began to feel a desire come over him to stay longer in the manor with the Elders.

  Why would it matter? We could still catch our flight in plenty of time tomorrow if we stayed here instead of going back to London this afternoon.

  He shut his eyes tightly against the thought. Why would he think such a thing? He opened them, and they immediately focused on the female Elder. He had been trying to avoid looking at her in particular. As soon as his eyes met hers, he knew he had been right to do so. Penetrating, red eyes—the eyes of a predator—soothed him. Lucas felt the room recede and the vampire draw closer to him. Lucas didn’t think what his mind thought he was seeing was really possible but then questioned how sure he was that the Qalal was, in fact, still sitting with the others.

  Is she getting closer to me … or am I going to her?

  He wanted to look at Gabby for reassurance, but he couldn’t move.

  It seemed to Lucas that the conversation was growing faint. The words spoken between Gabby and Phillip became muffled, like he was hearing them through an unseen wall.

  Like it’s taking place in another room entirely.

  He could still see Gabby in his periphery, though. Time seemed to have slowed, but he couldn’t reconcile why he thought so.

  Lucas’s thoughts about the strange feelings began to lessen as his mind drifted further away from Gabby and the male Elders. He had become almost entirely oblivious to everyone and everything but the female vampire when he thought he heard his name spoken. It was the voice of his angel—a voice that, even with the intense power the vampire had over him, he was unable to ignore.