Chains of Fire

by Christina Dodd

  She flashed him a warm smile, then turned to her audience. “According to my source, there were two feathers that were torn from Lucifer’s wings as he fell in flames into hell. If this is true, and one went into the foundation of this building, then what can the Chosen Ones do should they find and retrieve the second one?”

  “That is absolutely fabulous information,” Wendy said in excitement. “Because there’s another source—again undocumented—that says that whoever possesses angel feathers and faith should be able to—”

  Apparently Samuel decided they’d said enough, for he called, “Isn’t anybody going to pat us on the back for our success?”

  As one, the Chosen Ones turned. En masse, they swept toward Samuel and Isabelle.

  Charisma and Jacqueline hugged her. Rosamund jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Aaron hugged her, then pounded Samuel on the back. Caleb pounded Samuel on the back. Genny hugged him and laughed delightedly.

  As the Chosen Ones surged around them, Isabelle glanced toward the spot where Osgood had stood.

  He had vanished.

  She saw the door to the stairway close. She breathed a long sigh of relief.

  She was so happy to see him go.

  Wendy stood watching in puzzlement. “What did you think would happen up there? You act as if your life were in jeopardy.”

  The Chosen Ones exchanged glances.

  “What?” Wendy looked from one to another. “Mr. Osgood is a very learned and erudite man. His knowledge of ancient writings is unique in the business world!”

  “He is most definitely unique.” Isabelle rubbed her arms again.

  Rosamund turned to Wendy. “Would you like to go with us? To our headquarters? We could use another researcher!”

  “No! Why would I do that?” Osgood’s staff member was clearly befuddled by Rosamund’s invitation. “This employment is by far the best I’ve ever had. There are few positions for librarians with my expertise. Most people think what I do is unimportant.”

  “It’s not. What you know will save the world—or destroy it.” Blunt as always, Rosamund said, “Come with us. It’s not safe to stay here.”

  “Are you mad?” Wendy gestured at the vast lobby, the gold and marble and crystal. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Don’t you get it? We’re the Chosen Ones,” Rosamund said. “Well, not me, exactly, but my husband and these other people—”

  “Come on, darling.” Aaron urged her away. In a low voice, he said, “You can’t save her.”

  Rosamund looked around, realized the Chosen were moving toward the door, and called, “It’s been good speaking with you, Wendy. Good luck to you. . . . If you change your mind ...”

  “Of course.” Wendy backed away. “Good luck with your search for the second . . . feather....” She looked around, suddenly nervous, wiped her damp hands on her pants. “I’ll go back to work now.”

  “That poor woman,” Isabelle said in a low voice.

  Samuel wrapped his arm around her waist and swept her toward the door. “Yes. That poor woman. But she has made her choice.” He lowered his voice. “Now let’s get out of here. Osgood will keep his word, but when you stand in a hornet’s nest, sooner or later you’re going to be stung.”

  Once outside, John pulled out his phone and called McKenna.

  When they reached the street, the Rolls was waiting. They climbed inside, all of them, and as Aaron was shutting the door, McKenna pulled away from the curb.

  “Take the long way around, McKenna,” John instructed. “We have business to conduct.” He sat on one side of the car and scrutinized the neighborhood and the traffic.

  Aaron sat at the rear and did the same.

  Caleb, always on alert, observed everything around them as they left SoHo.

  Isabelle drew a sigh of relief. They were safe. At last, they were safe.

  Turning on her, Samuel took her shoulders and shook her. “Woman! What did you think you were doing in there?”

  Chapter 58

  Isabelle blinked in astonishment and offense. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You touched Osgood. You snapped at Osgood. The man holds the devil in his soul, and you faced off with him without a lick of sense!” Samuel was shouting at her.

  He was shouting at her.

  She pointed a finger into his face and shouted back. “Are you trying to insinuate that I didn’t know what I was facing? Have you not noticed what we do on a regular basis? I know the evil that exists in the world. I confront it every day. But I don’t choose to look only at that. I choose to remember the bravery I see around me and emulate it.”

  “I don’t want you to do that!”

  “Samuel, you’re an idiot,” Aaron murmured.

  “Don’t you talk to me that way, Samuel Faa. It’s not about what you want. It’s about our mission and what we, all of us”—she gestured around the car—“choose to accomplish. I did what I had to do. I wanted to get out of there with the contract finished, and for that he needed to touch me to know I had died.”

  Samuel started to speak.

  She talked over the top of him. “Furthermore, I was not going to leave you behind. Ever. So it’s a good thing you decided to come with me, because I would have hated to have to add to my offenses by knocking you out and dragging you downstairs!”

  McKenna listened to the delighted laughter as his passengers urged Isabelle on. Glancing in the rearview mirror at the high fives, Irving’s man-of-all-trades asked, “Who would have thought the seven inexperienced Chosen I picked up off this very street almost three years ago would have ever been able to face Lucifer himself?”

  Samuel looked around at the odd group of people he had come to think of as family. “It’s a miracle,” he said dryly.

  Isabelle kissed him. And kissed him again.

  “All right. That’s true. I haven’t the right to deny you your work.” He leaned close and looked into her eyes. “But listen to me. Don’t ever frighten me like that again. Don’t challenge the devil on his own turf. My heart can’t take the stress—and I can’t live without you.”

  She was startled to see tears in his eyes. Cupping his face in her hands, she said, “Oh, Samuel. I love you so much. I promise to be at your side . . . always.”

  “You’ll marry me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I will,” she said.

  As she went in for another kiss, Charisma stuck her hand between their faces. “None of that! Not yet! Tell us what happened.”

  Isabelle relaxed back against the seat and, as New York City glided by at a stately pace, she let Samuel tell the story, and smiled at him when he emphasized the way she dealt with Osgood and forgot to mention Osgood’s offer to him, and how he refused temptation.

  “So you two are together, in love forever.” Aleksandr leaned forward, rubbing his palms together nervously. “You both faced your greatest fear and conquered it. Has the prophecy worked as it should? Were your talents enhanced? Did you get your marks?”

  The interior of the car grew quiet. All eyes fixed on Samuel and Isabelle.

  Samuel gestured for Isabelle to go first.

  “Usually when I touch someone who needs healing, I feel their wounds, their pain. I touched Osgood—and I felt his soul like a living thing.” She looked at her hand, surprised that the skin had not scorched. “Osgood the man has always been dark, treacherous, exulting in vice, lies and deception, endlessly seeking power, and he found what he wanted when he invited the devil to share his body, to do evil works through him. It was the perfect melding of man and demon, and now the two beings are so intertwined . . . Lucifer is like a cancer, sending tendrils into Osgood’s soul, corrupting an already black and wicked creature.” She looked around at her friends, reluctant to impart the bad news, but knowing it must be done. “Always in the past, the being that worked the devil’s will on earth was human, and could be destroyed. Frankly, at this point, I don’t know that Osgood can be killed.”

  “I’d like to give it a t
ry,” Caleb said.

  “You think Osgood’s body has been made immortal by Lucifer’s attachment to him?” Remembering those faces frozen forever in the walls of the Osgood Building, Samuel felt fear like a lump in his stomach.

  “I’m giving you my impression, and the gift is new to me. I could be wrong,” Isabelle said.

  “Genny?” John turned to his wife, who, although she was not Chosen, saw their gifts with a special vision.

  “I’ve always perceived Isabelle’s gift in her touch. But now it clings to her . . . for lack of a better word, her aura.” Genny studied Isabelle. “It’s greater, more inclusive. Before, she healed with her hands. Now she sees with them, too.”

  Isabelle nodded. “Yes! That’s what it feels like. Later, Osgood was so reluctant to shake my hand—he was hiding something because he knew I could feel him.”

  “Before he left us, you tried to touch him. I can’t believe you tried to touch him.” Samuel’s voice rose again.

  Isabelle turned to him. “Do you have something to say?”

  He took several deep breaths. “Yes. You said you’ll marry me?”

  “I will.”

  “Will you forgive me, too?”

  “For yelling at me about Osgood?”

  “For using my mind control on you. For forcing you to tell Benedikta Vos’s location, for not knowing how betrayed you would feel, for thinking that the ends justify the means.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her gaze and some of that billowing elation faded. “That.”

  “It was wrong.”

  “Do you really mean it?” When he would have reassured her, she waved him to silence. “I mean, do you understand in your heart that manipulating me was wrong?”

  “I am not naturally a good man. I am wicked to the core of my soul.” Obviously, he really believed that. “But I do learn, and after I was through being resentful that you had left me for no good reason, I wondered why I loved a woman who was so unreasonable . . . and that made me remember that you weren’t unreasonable. Which made me think you at least believed you had left for a just cause.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Believed?”

  “That hurt me. And I hated it. But I didn’t want to ask myself if I thought your reasons were just. I was afraid to face that realization, so I put that off as long as I could. But you didn’t come back. And I was miserable.” He flushed. “So I asked myself how I would react if someone had taken over my mind for whatever reason and—”

  A ripple of laughter slipped through the car.

  Samuel broke off.

  Isabelle glared around at her friends. “This is important! Would you mind at least pretending you’re not listening?”

  A few coughs. Gazes averted. The only sound the humming motor and muted street noise.

  She focused on Samuel. “Go on.”

  To her surprise, he set his chin and kept talking. “I hated the idea of someone doing something so high-handed, so superior, so lacking in respect for me as a person. I treated you like a foolish child. I insulted you at the very base of your being. Mind you, I still think you were wrong—”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  Caleb groaned softly.

  “But when we’re married”—Samuel emphasized the phrase—“that will happen all the time.”

  John made an airplane-crashing-to-the-ground noise.

  Isabelle glared at their audience again.

  Eyes averted again.

  She asked, “What will you do when you think I’m wrong?”

  “I’ll try to convince you that I’m right . . . with my words.”

  “Score!” Charisma pumped her hand, then ducked her head and pretended to be examining her bracelets.

  Isabelle was so pleased, she wanted to cry. She wanted to dance. She wanted to make love with him until the world melted away and only Samuel and Isabelle were left.

  He got it. He truly got it.

  Taking his hands, she asked, “Do you really think you’re wicked?”

  “Every day, I fight the temptation to use my mind control to get what I want—and I want everything. So yeah, I’m wicked.”

  “I want everything, too, so I guess I’m wicked along with you.” She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders and smiled into his face. “Besides, do you really think a reasonable woman like me would love a wicked man like you?”

  He smiled right back. “I don’t think you can resist me.”

  Genny groaned.

  “He was doing so well,” McKenna called back conversationally.

  “Sooner or later, Samuel is going to revert to being Samuel,” Jacqueline said.

  Isabelle didn’t care what they said or did. She laughed softly and kissed his lips. “No, I never could resist you, Samuel Faa. And I trust you with my heart and my mind, forever and always.”

  Always quick to follow up an advantage, he asked, “When will you marry me?”

  Carefully she untangled herself from him. Taking a fiendish delight, she answered, “When my mother has arranged the wedding.”

  He slammed his head against the back of the seat. “No!”

  Charisma clasped her hands. “Oh, boy!”

  “A real wedding will be good for the group.” Aaron didn’t mind. He liked dressing up like James Bond.

  “Heh, heh.” Caleb smirked at Samuel. “You’re stuck now.”

  “You know you’ll have to wear a tux,” Jacqueline said.

  “Ha!” Samuel looked at his male friends. “You’ll all have to wear tuxes. I intend to make sure of it.”

  “It’ll give Irving something to look forward to,” Isabelle said. “So suck it up, all of you. Especially you, Samuel. You deserve every bit of torture my mother can devise.”

  “I thought you loved me,” he said.

  Okay, he was whining.

  “If I didn’t love you, I’d marry Senator Noble.”

  “If you married him, you’d never get laid again.”

  “That’s the other reason I’m not marrying Senator Noble.” She flirted with her eyes. “I like sex . . . with you.”

  McKenna coughed reprovingly. The car swerved.

  Outside, horns blared and a cabdriver beside them rolled down his window and shouted.

  “Right.” John ruthlessly brought them back on track. Turning to Rosamund, he said, “If you would, please, research this turn of events, find out if it’s possible that Osgood has become—or could become—immortal.”

  “Of course.” Rosamund loved to research, but she didn’t look happy now. She huddled against Aaron as if the winter’s chill had seeped into the car.

  “I’ll try to encourage a vision,” Jacqueline said.

  “Any information you can get from a vision or from your mother would be appreciated,” John said.

  Aleksandr turned to Isabelle. “So you have had your gift enhanced in a really scary way.”

  “Yeah, thanks for putting it like that,” Isabelle said.

  Driven by some need, he said, “You didn’t have a mark. Did you get one?”

  “Two.” Once again, she put her hands protectively to her upper arms.

  “Really?” Obviously intrigued, Samuel faced her. “What are they?”

  “It’s weird. You know that symbol of the medical profession? The rod with the two snakes twined around it?”

  “That’s the caduceus,” Rosamund, ever the librarian’s librarian, told her. “Actually, the rod of Asclepius is the true symbol of the medical profession—it has only one snake—but the two have been confused since the fifteenth century . . . ” Rosamund looked around at the glazed eyes and trailed off. “No one cares, do they?”

  “I’m fascinated,” Aaron teased her.

  She pinched him, and her smile promised retribution ... later.

  “Isabelle, your marks?” Samuel prompted.

  She told him, “Around each arm between my elbow and my shoulder, like decorative cuffs in glorious Technicolor, the serpents coil . . . and their eyes glitter.”

 
; “Really?” Samuel sounded more than interested. He sounded . . . aroused, and his gaze lingered on her catsuit. “I can’t wait to see.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said.

  “And appropriate for your gift. Isn’t the symmetry of the universe amazing?” Charisma sounded as pleased as if she’d directed matters herself.

  Samuel got a funny expression on his face. “Isabelle, your mother is going to be mortified that everyone thinks her daughter got tattoos.”

  Isabelle smiled smugly. “I thought of that.”

  “She’ll blame me,” Samuel added.

  “I thought of that, too.”

  They laughed together.

  As if some anxiety tugged at him, Aleksandr glanced out the window at the New York streets, then interrupted their amusement. “You got what was promised to you, then, Isabelle. What about you, Samuel?”

  “I saved her,” Samuel said simply. “That’s enough for me.”

  “But we all hope that’s a onetime thing,” Aleksandr said. “So the prophecy didn’t work for you?”

  Isabelle looked sharply at the young man. He seemed almost pleased at the idea.

  “There’s more,” Samuel admitted. “I developed my gift, the mind-control thing, in my teens, and it’s pretty powerful. But I’ve never been able to communicate with my thoughts.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. “Yet now, I can.”

  “Early this morning, I heard your voice call me to help Isabelle,” Jacqueline said. “And instinctively, I knew what to do.”

  “I heard you, too,” Genny said. “You called me to give back. And I did.”

  “Now I know that if I open myself to another mind, we can communicate.” He sent his thought to Isabelle. Can’t we?

  She jumped. She stared at him. Yes?

  He relaxed against the seat. “It’s as easy as falling off a log.”

  “Wow.” Isabelle rubbed her head. “That was weird.”

  “But not painful or anything, right?” Samuel asked.

  “Just weird,” she assured him.