“Mom, he’s French and a trained chef. What else can I tell you? Feel free to discuss this with Simon if you’re unhappy with his choices,” Cara said, pushing down her exasperation and calling her mother’s bluff. Cara was convinced her parents would trade her for Simon in a heartbeat… well, not really, but they undeniably adored their new son-in-law-to-be. He could do no wrong in their eyes.
“Oh, honey. I can’t do that,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I don’t want to offend him.”
Cara sniffed. “Oh, but it’s okay if I offend him?”
Her mother released a breath of surrender. “Then pickled quail eggs it is. Whatever you both want… your father and I just want you to be happy,” she said. “Would Simon mind adding a few crowd-pleasers for our meat-and-potatoes relatives?”
Cara’s lips tipped up in a smile. “That I can ask him.”
“Are you still meeting the wedding planner later for the site review at the farmhouse?”
“Yes, around three,” Cara said.
Her mother sighed. “I really wish I could go with you, honey. I’m so sorry my work schedule has been impossible. Speaking of, I have a meeting in a couple of minutes.” A career woman through and through, Corrine Collins had worked Cara’s entire life. Vice President of Human Resources at a large pharmaceutical company, her mom had always been her role model. Cara had followed in her footsteps quite nicely as an investment banker up until her grandmother’s letter had changed her life a couple of months ago, along with the gift to heal people, and a mysterious $50 million inheritance that needed to remain secret.
“Don’t worry, Mom. It’s fine,” Cara said. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
“See you then, honey. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Where was I? Cara settled back into the cushions of the chaise lounge. From the terrace of her penthouse apartment, she could see Central Park over the tree line across the street. Tuning out the city sounds below, she tried to relax for a few more minutes in the unseasonably warm morning sunshine.
Silly her. She’d decided to plan a wedding on her break from saving herself and the rest of the free world.
Green eyes closed, her auburn hair cascaded over the back of the chair from the high ponytail on her head. Sun bathed her creamy Irish skin, covered by only a string-bikini, in warmth. Thanks to her new Nephilim DNA, she no longer feared skin cancer. And her skin now turned a light golden brown rather than the color of boiled shrimp dappled with freckles.
A loud yawn sounded beside her. Cara opened one eye and turned her head to the side.
Her Whippet, Chloe—the canine sun goddess—lay stretched out on her side on the lounge chair next to Cara. She reminded Cara of a paper cutout silhouette with her dark greyhound-like profile against the light-colored cushions. A white heart on the back of her neck and the white tip of her tail were the only interruptions in her dark brindle coloring. Next to Chloe’s chair sat a dog bowl filled with water and a bottle of SPF 50 for her delicate pink underbelly. Looking at her dog, no one would ever suspect she was an Angelorum Sentinel who could see demons.
All she’s missing is a pair of sunglasses, Cara thought, eyeing Chloe jealously and wishing she could be as carefree as her companion. But Chloe didn’t have a to-do list a mile long to take care of before the day ended. All she had to do was stave off any demon attacks if one were to pop up.
Cara wanted to make every minute count before her eight-week hiatus ended in five days and her Trinity—she, Michael, and Simon—had to report back to the Angelorum Sanctuary next Wednesday. Her lips turned down in a frown. They weren’t really a Trinity anymore now that Simon had been removed as her Trinity Guardian and his best friend, Isaac, had taken his place. Then again, the fact that Simon was named the Second of the Holy Twelve to her First was a more important position than being just a Guardian. Plus, she had a whole security team of Guardians now, not just one. A shudder traveled over her sun-warmed skin. The fact that she needed a security team in the first place still freaked her out. Not to mention her role in the future of humanity to lead the battle between good and evil.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep cleansing breath and let it out slowly. Five more days. She could pretend to be normal for five more days. Opening her eyes, she reached for her lukewarm cup of coffee and took a sip. Blech! She wrinkled her nose.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, she thought, and put the cup down. Coffee probably wasn’t the wisest choice anyway. A restorative cup of herbal tea or a power smoothie would be better than a substance that would cause her to hang from the ceiling by her fingernails.
Simon had left at eight o’clock to meet Michael at his dojo in Brooklyn for a sparring match, but not before they’d had a little “sparring match” of their own. A wicked smile touched her lips followed by a rush of heat. Cara had a hunch her new DNA was responsible; she’d been insatiable lately and Simon was only too happy to oblige.
Cara hadn’t finished counting all the pluses and minuses of her altered state, but then again, only two months had passed since Kai had injected her with the Nephilim vaccine to save her life. She hadn’t decided yet if she considered her increased “appetite” a blessing or a curse.
Cara shook her head. What a difference two months can make; too bad most of it she couldn’t discuss without risking lives. Even now, other than Simon and Michael, no one knew about the inheritance; everyone still thought she had a lucrative house-sitting gig between the penthouse and the Connecticut farmhouse. Eventually, she would announce that she and Simon had purchased both properties, making life a whole lot easier. Straddling between friends and family who lived normal lives and those who engaged in the war between angels and demons was both challenging and exhausting.
At least she could talk about her engagement. Of course she couldn’t mention Simon was 147 years old and sprouted angel’s wings on occasion, but the fact they were living together was fair game. He’d moved into the penthouse with her, and over the course of the last couple of months they’d made it their home. Most of his clothes now occupied half of her walk-in closet, his favorite canvases adorned her walls, and his best pots and pans filled her kitchen cabinets.
Her cell phone rang again. Looking at the caller ID, her brow furrowed as she calculated the time in San Francisco. “Hi, Kai.”
“Hey, Cara.” He released a breath. “Listen, I can’t make the flight later. Something’s come up with Melanie.”
Cara sat up when she heard the strain in his voice. “What’s the matter?”
Kai let out a sigh. “Can I give you the CliffsNotes version now and the full scoop when I see you?”
“Sure, whatever you’re comfortable with,” she said, not wanting to push. Between their nine-year friendship and their soul connection, Cara could read every nuance of Kai’s emotions, even over the phone. Out of respect for his privacy, she never pushed the boundaries of her enhanced ability to connect with him. Other than using it as a cosmic GPS, the rest had gone untested.
“It’s not that… it’s complicated. Bottom line, Melanie’s asked to be checked into a psychiatric hospital,” he said.
Kai’s wife, Melanie, had been possessed by a demon for almost a year. As a result, she’d been drafted as an unknowing accomplice in the kidnappings of Kai and their four-year-old daughter, Sara. After Simon drove out the demon, they’d all expected her to make a full recovery.
“What?” Cara couldn’t keep the alarm out of her voice.
“Listen, she’s had a rough time since she came home from the clinic after the rescue. She’s been hearing voices. I don’t know how to help her.” He paused. “I need some time to get this squared away before I drop off Sara in Virginia with my mom. All going according to plan, I should still be there in time to leave for the Sanctuary.”
Kai had been asked to accompany her, Simon, and Michael on their trip back to the Angelorum Sanctuary. As was typical, Constantina had provided few details, but Cara assumed it had something t
o do with finding the rest of the Twelve. Kai had also shown signs of possessing a Messenger bloodline when they’d rescued him and Sara from Achanelech. Cara had figured that out when she’d suddenly been able to speak with him telepathically—quite a surprise after their long history together.
Cara frowned and clutched the phone to her ear. “What did the Angelorum clinic say about this?”
“They admitted that they’ve done all they can and suggested specialized psychiatric help from here on out.”
Cara, sensing Kai’s despair, asked gently, “Do you need to stay behind? This sounds important.”
Kai released a breath and Cara pictured him running his fingers through his conservatively cut blond hair. “No,” he replied. “Besides, the doctors won’t allow any family contact for the first two weeks after she’s admitted. It’s okay. I’d rather be with you guys than here going crazy by myself.”
“All right,” Cara said, relieved. She would rather keep an eye on him anyway. When it came to Kai, she tended to be overprotective. He’d accused her of being a mother hen more than once during their long friendship.
“How are you feeling? Any changes I need to know about before your next blood test?” he asked, his scientist hat securely back on.
She felt his mood lift with the change in topic, probably because it was something he could control. Then again, all her male friends seemed to thrive on control. She wondered what that said about her.
She groaned. “Stop. You’re making me feel like a lab experiment.”
“Well, you kind of are,” he said matter-of-factly.
She debated what she should tell him, not wanting to add to his worry. “Well, there’ve been some things…”
“Like what?” She heard the curiosity in his voice.
“Call me crazy, but my skin is getting… smoother. The tiny laugh lines around my eyes I’ve had since I was twenty-one—gone. And my clothes are tighter.”
“You sure that’s not Simon’s cooking?” he said with a chuckle. There was no denying Simon’s prowess in the kitchen matched his prowess in the bedroom.
She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. “Very funny. He’s a brilliant chef, but I’m not getting fat, Knucklehead. I’m getting… muscular. For the first time in my life, I have a six-pack, and I’m not talking about the Sam Adams in my refrigerator.”
“Really? Lucky Simon,” he teased. That’s it, she was so not telling him about the increase in her sexual appetite.
“Come on, Kai. I’m serious. I’m getting taller, too. I’ve been putting pencil marks on the door jamb like a five-year-old. If the marks are right, I’m two inches taller than I used to be. Could I really be growing?”
Kai sighed. “It’s possible. Have you had any pain? Growth spurts are normally accompanied by muscular and bone pain.”
She released a breath, rolled her shoulders, and debated how much to reveal to Kai given the heavy load already on his mind. “Yeah. Last night was the worst, enough to keep me awake.” Understatement. At one point, she could’ve sworn she was being ripped in two.
Kai paused. She could almost hear his mind working on the other side of the phone. “Huh. I have you scheduled for an appointment with the Nephilim physiology department when we go to the Sanctuary next week. We’ll take more blood and do some additional tests,” he said.
“Okay, thanks. Check in on Sunday and let me know how things are going and when you think you’ll be here. Good luck, Kai. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.” He hung up.
Cara decided to leave out the part about the wicked mood swings—a definite minus on her running list of DNA-related changes. Like PMS on steroids, they gripped her instantly and ignited like a flash fire.
Fragments from the night they’d rescued Kai and Sara were trickling back into her consciousness. She still didn’t remember being stabbed during the rescue though.
Cara picked up her now-cold cup of coffee and gave it one last look before putting it back down. She took some more cleansing breaths and mentally reviewed her laundry list of tasks for the day. She had to pick up her engagement ring from the jewelers, meet Sienna for lunch in the Garment District to preview her wedding and bridesmaid dress designs, and pop up to the farmhouse in Connecticut to meet the wedding planner. At least she didn’t need to rush over to Simon’s loft and prepare the guest quarters for Kai. And Michael and Simon had let her off the hook today for weapons training with the promise she’d be there bright and early tomorrow morning… Well, maybe not that early. She found herself needing more sleep lately and theorized that it must have something to do with the growth spurts.
On second thought, maybe not so bad of a day planned after all.
But the madness would start again tomorrow when two of her bridesmaids, her closest girlfriends from college, arrived for the weekend—Jessa from California, and Irene from Washington, D.C. The three of them hadn’t been together in almost three years. Cara thought it might be fun, in lieu of a shower, to have some quality girl time before the jam-packed weekend of her nuptials next month.
Cara nervously fingered the diamond she wore around her throat. Deep inside, she knew the wedding would be her last hurrah. She sensed darkness on its way even though Constantina assured her that they had a half-decent shot of making their wedding date without incident.
Chloe jumped off the lounge to stretch and take a drink of water from her bowl. Without missing a beat, she hopped back up and lay down on her other side.
Cara shook her head and chuckled. “I think you and your Aunt Sienna were separated at birth.” Chloe loved the sun as much as Cara’s best friend. Speaking of Sienna, Cara glanced at her watch. She needed to get started on her errands if she had any intention of getting to Nicolas Alda’s design studio by noon, and avoid Sienna’s wrath for being late.
Chapter 6
IRENE
Fort Meade, Maryland. Thursday, May 23, 9:45 AM ET
“MISS HICKEY, we understand that you still have a close personal relationship with Miss Collins,” said the disembodied voice of one of the NSA agents in the darkened conference room. “We need your help. Your country needs your help.”
Irene Hickey had received their phone call yesterday at the State Department where she worked as a linguist for the Foreign Service, specializing in Semitic languages including Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic.
Is he serious? she thought as she sat in the bowels of the National Security Agency, wondering why she was there…until the full-screen image of her former Georgetown roommate and close friend, Cara Collins, was projected onto the ninety-inch LCD monitor in front of her. Thank God the room was dark. She hoped they hadn’t heard her gasp when Cara’s image popped up on the screen.
As if to prove their point, the screen changed to a photograph Irene had posted on Facebook from Cara’s visit last spring. They were standing in front of the Capitol building, both wearing large smiles with their arms draped casually around each other’s shoulders. The Japanese tourist had snapped a frame-worthy picture. Five feet two and ninety-eight pounds soaking wet, Irene was the smaller of the two. Even though they were the same age, Irene looked like Cara’s kid sister with her short, red hair and a fashionable pair of black, cat’s-eye-shaped glasses framing her green eyes.
“Why are you showing me Cara’s picture? Has she done something?” Irene asked, not happy that they’d hacked into her Facebook account. Her privacy settings were set as tight as they could go, and these guys were definitely not on her Friend list.
“We’re not saying she’s done anything. We want you to listen and watch a satellite feed we picked up on the first of April at a warehouse thirty miles south of San Francisco.”
A green-tinted night vision scene played, showing a dark warehouse complex and a parking lot. A moment later, the chatter started.
Irene froze. After a full five minutes, she leaned back in her chair, baffled. Although the language had some familiar elements, she’d never heard it b
efore. She picked up hints of the Semitic languages, but different. Her first instinct was that she was hearing a proto-language, a language from which others had evolved.
“I’ve never heard that language before,” she finally said into the darkness. The sound intrigued her, reminding her of her studies in the divine languages used for religious purposes. Most were no longer spoken today. “How did you get this?”
“We tapped into their wireless radio system. The exchange captured our interest for two reasons. One, we were already monitoring the warehouse for suspicion of terrorist activity by an individual known as Le Feu; and two, because we haven’t found a single linguist yet who knows what language they’re speaking.”
One of the agents fast-forwarded. The next scene showed a large crowd of men arriving on motorcycles. They parked next to some black SUVs then disappeared into the darkness while the strange chatter continued in the background.
“This is about thirty minutes later.” The scene jumped ahead.
The bikers reappeared and settled on their motorcycles, waiting with a few others who milled around. A small child was among them sitting on the lap of a handsome black man with long braids. The picture focused in on the little girl’s face.
Oh. My. God. Irene thought with immediate recognition.
“The child is the daughter of Dr. Kai Solomon,” said one of the agents.
Irene knew Kai well—he was a mutual friend of hers and Cara’s. He’d been a senior at Georgetown when she and Cara had been freshman. Cara and Kai had a long history, starting with their relationship during Cara’s freshman year.
More people appeared from the darkness. The satellite zoomed in on Kai as he entered the light. His daughter, Sara, ran toward him. Leaning down, he scooped her up into a tight embrace.
Another man emerged, carrying someone in his arms.
The satellite camera moved in, revealing an unconscious Cara.
This time, Irene couldn’t hide her sharp inhale.
“A large blond man carried your friend, Cara Collins, out of the warehouse. He is, as of now, unidentified. A ghost. We have nothing on him.”
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