by Eileen Wilks
He scowled and pulled her forward, his fingers digging into her pocket to retrieve the car keys.
She shoved him and backed away. “Don’t manhandle me.”
“You accuse me of such a thing? Perhaps you should stay here, Kate, until you decide with whom you belong.”
She frowned, her back stiffening. The thought of him leaving rattled her more than she wanted to admit, which only made her struggle harder not to cave.
He opened the back of jeep and took out her bags.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You,” Nathaniel said, pointing at Grant. “You want her to stay, so be it. I leave her in your safekeeping. Let harm come to her, and you’ll answer for it.”
“Nathaniel,” she snapped. “I’m still here.”
“Obviously,” he agreed.
“I meant don’t talk about me as if I were property or some weak little female that the big strong men need to protect.”
“You do need protection sometimes. You’re foolish to claim otherwise,” he said. He clasped her hand and she felt his ring cool and hard in her palm. He closed her fingers around it, clenching her fist within his.
“Wear my ring until I return.”
“What, are we in high school? I’m not—”
He caught her face in his hands and kissed her, hard and tender at the same time. At first she resisted but then couldn’t.
Delicious, she thought as her body tightened in anticipation of what she wanted . . . more.
She kissed him back, until normal consciousness melted, and an image burned her mind. She lay in her dorm room asleep. Nathaniel stood over her, his chiseled features rain-soaked as he opened her hand. Water dripped onto the ring transforming the flecks of dried blood into pink droplets in her palm. His harsh breath quickened, and his thumb rubbed the moisture along her hand creases. “We’re bound by blood,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have touched the ring. Should never even have spotted it.” She stirred, her lips parting. “Who are you?” he asked, staring down at her face, and then he leaned forward and brushed his lips over her mouth. When he straightened, he licked his lips. “Bound,” he whispered, taking the ring. Then, with a rush of air, he escaped through the open window.
The image blurred as Nathaniel stepped back.
“What the hell was that?” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“A good-bye kiss,” Nathaniel said, climbing into the driver’s seat. He shoved it all the way back to accommodate his height.
“I saw you in my dorm room. I was asleep . . . It wasn’t my memory . . .” she stammered. “Did you see that just now?”
He shook his head, starting the car.
“Where are you going? The next four blocks are the Sliver, which is neutral territory, but the entire city beyond that is the Varden, which is controlled by the ventala.”
“Maybe a visit there will help me figure out what they want from me.”
“So you’re just going to do what? Drive around? See if something seems familiar while half the ventala in the Varden may be hunting you?”
“If you wish to know, come with me.”
She still felt slightly disoriented from the kiss and the dorm room vision. Had it been a memory? One of his? Or just a dream that felt real? “No, Nathaniel. Driving around randomly makes no sense. Come inside the Etherlin with me and tell me what you remember, so we can figure things out together.”
“I don’t know where I belong, but it’s not inside those walls.”
She glared at him.
“I’ll return for you, Kate.”
“Don’t you dare leave.”
“I’m not yours to command,” Nathaniel said, scowling as he swung the wheel. He drove away. Feeling crestfallen, she stared after him until the jeep disappeared.
Finally, she turned to Grant. “What do you think?” she asked, saying what they were all wondering. “Is he a fallen angel?”
“He may be. According to legend, the angels who rose against God were cast out. Those who embraced the rebellion were damned to hell. Those who regretted their choice were doomed to walk the earth, always seeking God’s forgiveness, which would be withheld forever. They’re tortured souls without a seat at the table of the afterlife.”
“A lonely existence.”
“Exactly. I’m sure he’d enjoy having someone to ease that loneliness, but what would that mean for you?”
“Heaven’s gates would be barred against me, too,” she said, shivering.
“Very likely, which is why you should come inside and never see him again.”
“I have a connection to him. It’s palpable.”
“I’m sure it is. Remember that if he’s trying to trick you, he’s more than fallen. He’s damned. Don’t forget that higher demons are experts in subterfuge and temptation.”
Yes, he could be trying to trick me, she thought, but he’s not. A part of me already belongs to him, whether I want it to or not.
“It’s time,” Tamberi said, glancing at the clock and tapping her foot nervously. She opened the grimoire.
“All right, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Cato said.
“No. At least not yet,” she said with a sly smile as she started reading from the book. The floor cracked open, and orange light spilled from the center. Flames danced up, singeing the curtains and the dangling hair of the sacrifices who screamed behind their gags.
When the ritual was finished, seconds ticked by and orange and white flames exploded in the circle. Smoke writhed and took shape. Bones clattered and creaked, covering themselves in flesh as pale as milk.
Gadreel rose from his crouched position. White-blond hair hung around his exquisite face, and eyes of the brightest blue stared at them. The corner of his mouth curved into a smile.
“Hello, world of men, so nice to see you again.” His left hand slid lazily down his flat belly to stroke himself. “What have we here, Tamberi? You had a helper?”
She nodded. “My brother, Cato.”
Gadreel laughed and stepped out of the circle. With his free hand, he cupped her face. “Blood, black magic, and virgins—three of my favorite things. And now incest? Is it my birthday? Why, yes it is. Of sorts.” He licked his lips and kissed her mouth. “Thank you for my presents. There’s a reason you’re my favorite.”
“You say that to everyone.”
“Yes, but in your case, I mean it.” He glanced at Cato. “So what do you think, Beri? Should we start with him in the middle?”
“What?” Cato choked.
Tamberi nodded and laughed.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ride you too long, Cato. There’s a lot to be done before sunrise. My angel enemy’s distracted by a girl, and I’ve risen before he’s got his bearings in that new body.” Gadreel stretched with lazy sensuality. “Did you follow all my instructions, Tamberi?”
“Yes, everything’s ready and in motion.”
“Beautiful. By morning, I’ll retrieve my ring, defile his girl, and cut out his wings.” Gadreel’s smile flashed wicked and bright. “Happy birthday.”
Nathaniel rubbed his chest as the piercing pain faded. For an instant, an inky blackness had fallen over his vision. Then, with a blink, it cleared, leaving a powerful urgency in its wake. Nathaniel pressed the gas pedal down and struggled to make sense of what he’d felt.
Hurry. The word beat in his mind like a drum. “Hurry where? To do what?” Nathaniel demanded.
He hadn’t recovered his memory yet. At least not fully. He was a soldier of Heaven. That had been a sharp realization that came without memory. He didn’t know how he’d come to be, but when he’d been confronted by the men from Etherlin Security, a knowledge of himself had emerged. In the same way that he knew his right hand from his left and how to wield a weapon, he knew he was an archangel, an instrument of God’s wrath, and that he was not meant to be examined or interrogated by men. Nathaniel had felt that if he’d stayed, the men would’ve become more insistent and t
he situation would have escalated to violence. Also, he’d felt a rising tide of jealousy and desire. When Kate had been friendly and familiar with the other men, a part of him had wanted to lay claim to her in the basest, most primal way.
He tightened his grip on the wheel. His passion for her had become volatile. He’d wanted to conquer her resistance, and that battle would have made the exchange between him and the men impossible to control. So when Kate refused to leave with him, he’d left her there, though even now he wanted to turn back.
What are she and I meant to be to each other?
No answer presented itself, but he realized that thoughts of her cooled the urgency that had overtaken him when he’d felt the pain in his chest. It was as though duty and desire pulled at different parts of his soul, each conquering the other in his mind from moment to moment. He shook his head, and then ran a hand through his hair to push it back from his face.
Duty, first. Surely that’s how things must be. But even as he had the thought, a part of him rebelled against it. Go back for Kate, a calm voice seemed to whisper. Nathaniel clenched his jaw. No. Not now. Not yet.
Instinct made him drive southwest from the Etherlin gates until he was among glossy black-and-white high rises that looked familiar. A building with a red awning over the front entrance caused a flash of memory wherein a crowd of people dressed for a night out stood in line. In his memory, he passed them on his way inside.
Do I live in this building?
Nathaniel twisted his spine by moving each shoulder forward and back. The muscle cramps worsened, but now that he understood why, he didn’t mind. Wings. He would have wings, and when he did he would fly and hunt.
Hunt what?
Demons, he thought. Archangels hunt demons. It’s what I’m on this earth to do.
He waited for more detail to emerge, but none came.
Instead, recent memories scattered across his mind. The way Kate had laughed when he’d mentioned time travel, the sound as bright and self-assured as the midday sun, her head tipping back so her hair swung like a curtain inlaid with bronze and gold. And the way she kissed, which was so uninhibited that it shocked him . . . and made him ache. He could’ve kissed her deep into the night. He’d wanted to steal her away, to stake his claim on her body by burying the swollen organ between his legs inside her. He knew with certainty that making love to Kate would feel like a slice of Heaven. Need throbbed heavily through his flesh.
I should have taken her. She belongs to me.
He inhaled sharply and clenched his teeth against instincts so raw they threatened to overwhelm him. No, her consent is compulsory. Strength is not a license to take by force what must be freely given. Strength of character must match strength of body, or I am no better than my enemies.
Even as thoughts of Kate swamped him, something else fought for his attention, too.
Hurry.
Again, the rush of adrenaline, the urgency to move without an exact direction.
He rubbed his temple and pulled into a parking spot, looking up at the building’s lacquer accents and Art Deco lines. He had a knowledge of architecture, he realized. He’d lived through thousands of years of history, had seen buildings and monuments erected. Fragments filtered through like light through a veil.
Nathaniel climbed from Kate’s jeep and walked to the smoked glass doors under the maroon canopy with white lettering that announced CRIMSON. He remembered the thump of loud music.
Crimson’s a nightclub.
He wondered if Kate liked to dance. His body tightened at the thought of holding her in his arms again. All that softness that smelled sweet as spring rain, her lips the texture of flower petals pressed . . . He shook his head to clear it.
In the lobby, the security officer looked down from his perch and raised his eyebrows.
“And who are you supposed to be? One of the wise men after he’s been mugged?”
Nathaniel glanced at his clothes. Kate had mocked them as well. He’d assumed that he’d traveled through time in them, but that was apparently not true. He ran his hand over the rough cloth. It felt comfortable and familiar, but he clearly needed to change if he didn’t want to invite derision.
He doesn’t know me; this is not where I live.
“I’m Nathaniel. You don’t recognize me?”
“No,” the man said with a laugh. “You’d never get into Crimson in that get-up.”
“I probably wasn’t dressed this way, and I may not have been at the club. I could’ve been here to visit someone who lives in the building.”
“You must really have tied one on if you can’t remember what you were doing here last time. Why don’t you go home and come back when you know who you want to see.”
Nathaniel glanced past the desk to the bank of elevators. The ones in the foreground had numbers, but the back one was separate and had the word penthouse above it.
Nathaniel pictured a rooftop garden. Statues. Orange trees. He’d been on the building’s roof.
“I’d like to see the person who lives in the penthouse.”
The man laughed again. “Buddy, except for a few beautiful babes and the guys who work for him, nobody tries to see the boss. And you’d better hope he doesn’t want to see you either because that would mean your number’s up.” The man continued to look amused.
“He’s an assassin?” Another archangel?
“He used to be an enforcer. Now he owns this building and about five blocks in every direction. His name is Merrick, and he doesn’t see anyone before five.”
Merrick.
Nathaniel knew of Merrick. He was a member of the ventala. Nathaniel pictured a man in a dark suit who moved with precision and killed without remorse. He’d been trained like no other ventala. Lysander. The name reverberated through Nathaniel’s mind. Merrick had been trained by Lysander—one of the fiercest archangels of all time. A fallen archangel.
“I’ve heard of Merrick,” Nathaniel said.
“Most people have.”
Nathaniel stepped forward and rested a hand on the counter. He studied the man, who shifted his considerable bulk. There was no malice behind the man’s eyes. No instinct dictated that Nathaniel challenge him.
“I understand that you are bound by your duty, but I would like you to call Merrick and tell him a member of Lysander’s former brotherhood asks to see him.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “You’re saying—” The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. “None of us has ever seen him, but everybody who works for the boss has heard rumors about Lysander.” The man narrowed his eyes and looked Nathaniel over. “You better not drop that name unless you are what you claim.”
Nathaniel smiled. “As with your employer, you would not like to witness me prove what I am.”
The man lifted the phone and conveyed Nathaniel’s message to the person on the other end. Setting the phone back in its cradle, he said, “They’ll check with him and call me back.”
Nathaniel nodded as the man looked him over again.
“So you’re allowed to tell people what you are?”
“If I revealed myself to you, then I must not be barred from it,” Nathaniel said, though he wasn’t sure that was true. He only knew that his instincts had not railed against his making the revelation.
“So what’s it like? Heaven?” the man asked eagerly.
“It defies description.” At least at the moment. “You need to see for yourself.”
The man shrugged. “Not sure that’s going to work out. This patch of concrete’s been pretty godforsaken. We do what we have to do to survive. Not sure how that’s gonna go over come Judgment Day.”
“It’s not too late to live as you were meant to.”
The phone rang, and the man picked it up. He listened for a moment. “Sure.” He replaced the receiver. “The penthouse elevator will take you all the way up. The code is 198724.”
“Thank you. And good luck on your journey.”
“I’m gonna take a journey?”
Nathaniel smiled. “The journey of your life.”
Nathaniel crossed the black marble tile to reach the elevator. He keyed in the code and the door slid open. Inside there were sleek steel walls. A pewter-framed painting of a white orchid dotted with crimson hung at the back, managing to be both sensual and ominous.
Nathaniel stepped inside and ascended.
Chapter Five
Nathaniel walked down the wide hall with its alternating lengths of indigo carpet and white marble. A black-and-white photograph of a French horn seemed to float above the ground, held in place by thread-thin wires. The walls were papered in a silver geometric pattern as though the corridor had been gift-wrapped by a mathematician with a taste for jazz.
Merrick answered the door in a white bathrobe and dark sunglasses. Nathaniel didn’t understand the sunglasses since the penthouse apartment was as dark as a cave. Nathaniel had the urge to throw the heavy drapes open and let in the light.
“Hello,” Merrick said, going into his kitchen. He emerged with a bowl of dates, dried figs, and spiced almonds. “What else would you like? Bread and cheese? Some spiced meat?” Merrick asked.
“This is plenty. Thank you.” From the first bite, a flood of warm emotion coursed through Nathaniel. These were flavors from a time now lost.
“A drink?”
“Is there wine?”
“There’s everything,” Merrick said, going to his bar. He uncorked a bottle and poured dark red wine into a goblet. Then into a heavy asymmetric highball glass he poured amber spirits and dropped a lime wedge.
Nathaniel watched Merrick. The ventala who had attacked Nathaniel were strong, quick, and agile, but they hadn’t been trained to fight by archangels. Merrick’s movements betrayed his superior training. No wasted motion. Nathaniel admired that.
“So you and I are well acquainted?” Nathaniel asked, taking the offered wine.
“No,” Merrick said, sitting across from him. “We spoke once when you and Lysander had a disagreement on my roof.”
“I fought with Lysander? Over what?”