Nava Katz Box Set 2

by Deborah Wilde

  He tsked me. “Baruch would weep.”

  “Which is why you’re not going to tell him. I’m just rusty.”

  Ro tapped me with his mitt every time I dropped my guard.

  I worked on the combo he demonstrated. Jab-jab-jab-left hook-right cross. “Think of the wards as a line in the sand with evil, the demon realm, on one side, and good, earth, on the other. Demons have to work at coming through, at crossing that line, hence the use of poison that creates rifts in the fabric of reality. The process is hard and it’s painful, but the wards don’t care about them returning to their own side. That’s a quick portal deal for them. We’re facing the same issue in reverse. We need to reliably open a rift into the demon realm that will allow all of us through.”

  “Too many rifts,” Rohan said. “Call this one something else.”

  “Good point. I dub the one we need to open ‘Hellgate.’”

  Rohan jabbed the side of my rib cage, then hiked up the workout shorts he’d borrowed off Ari. “Open Hellgate and not get injured in the process.”

  “Exactly. Malik is working on how to make that happen. Getting home will be easy enough, because it’ll be a portal and those are a snap.”

  “Provided we’re alive.”

  “Sure, that.”

  “Why doesn’t Malik open a portal for us and bring us all home with him?” Rohan stepped up his attack.

  “Only things with a demon magic signature can return home via a portal. Malik’s gateway would kill you.”

  “But not you?”

  Guess that would depend of how much of Lilith’s dark magic was in me. Shrugging, I drove him back with a flurry of light punches. “Why are you so testy?”

  “I don’t like the plan.”

  It was as simple as possible. Go through Hellgate into the demon realm, jump directly to the court, then split our attack between killing the guards and holding the throne clear for Malik to claim.

  “You don’t like it because you don’t want me using the ring,” I said.

  “That and the entire thing. You’re trusting a demon to not double-cross us.”

  “I don’t trust Malik. I trust his desire for the throne. He was born to this.”

  “Just because you were born to something doesn’t mean you want it or have to take it.” Ro’s hands were too fucking fast. He was a silky menace.

  The boxing ring felt huge and confining at the same time. I couldn’t duck under his fists or slip sideways, couldn’t land a hit. I was trapped, my back against the ropes.

  His punches were battering rams pummeling my ribs and abs. He found every weak link in my defense and struck with surgical precision.

  The harder he came at me, the more I ached to land a punch and solidly connect with muscle, but my first few attempts were wild lashes that got me nowhere.

  Dark, submerged tendrils curled inside me. I held my magic in check, vibrating hard enough to shatter glass. I harnessed the chaos and adrenaline within me, converting it into a fluid motion from my hip to my fist.

  Throwing that punch was fantastic.

  Connecting was orgasmic. A physical, primal thrill that resonated deep in my gut.

  I drove Rohan back until I had him trapped on the other side of the ring, then I slammed a perfect uppercut into his jaw that sent him bouncing off the ropes.

  Chest heaving, I tore my gloves off with a snarl and flung them at him. “What was that?”

  “You gonna wait that long to fight back when you’re facing Satan and the upper echelon of demons?” he said.

  “I was trying to not kill you.”

  “No excuses. You froze. If you can’t use one type of attack you immediately switch to another.”

  My anger melted away. His point had been valid. I couldn’t freeze up when I was facing Satan. “Is it going to be just me?”

  Rohan pulled off his own gloves. “When the other Rasha learn you’re willingly helping a demon become Satan? You could lose the ones you didn’t already drive away when you joined up with the witches.”

  “What about you?”

  “Earth, demon realm, I don’t give a shit where. I always have your back.” His brows furrowed. “Did you really think otherwise?”

  “No, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in this crazy big top, riding on the back of an elephant while spinning plates and juggling balls. And I look out at you, the one person in the audience who I always find, who I always make sure is there, and I wonder if today is the day when you’ll tire of the circus.”

  “Yeah, well, I wonder when you’ll have had enough emo and want some happy pop song.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to write? Happy pop songs?”

  Ro leveled me with a flat stare that was so loaded with how unimpressed he was that I smirked. “I’m trying to find the dimensions in my music,” he said. “In my life. It’s okay if sometimes you’re in the big top, because the circus is also cotton candy, clowns, and adrenaline-packed high wire acts.”

  “That’s deep, Mitra.”

  He grinned. “I am nothing if not profound.”

  “Great,” I said. “Then you can use your profundity to convince the witches and Rasha that taking out the old guard puts us way ahead of where we are now. There’s always going to be a Satan and we know what we’re getting with this one.” I tilted my head. “Or just use your pretty face and charm them.”

  Rohan rubbed his jaw. “Not so pretty now.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Aw, baby. Did I break you?”

  “Yes.” He pouted.

  “Want me to kiss it better?”

  He tipped his bruised jaw up to me and I pressed the gentlest kiss to it.

  “That was a damn good uppercut,” he said.

  “It was, wasn’t it? You know, you bruised me way more. You going to kiss it better?”

  He flipped our positions and backed me up against the ropes. “Hold on and don’t let go.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Ro dropped to his knees, yanked my dance shorts down to my ankles, and licked Cuntessa. He shot me a lopsided, cocky grin. “That.”

  A ragged moan escaped me and I held on. The rope cut into my sweat-soaked wrist wraps, the woven red strips wound across my palms, over my knuckles, and between my fingers. The boxers in the various fight posters papering the brick walls were two dozen voyeurs too many, so I focused on the top of Rohan’s dark head.

  He ran his fingers up my leg, dipping butterfly kisses closer and closer to Cuntessa, before pulling back and suckling on my right thigh, lighting up all the nerves in that area with his blowing, licking, and kissing.

  I giggled, twisting half-sideways.

  “Ticklish?”

  “A bit. Ohhh.”

  He exhaled, warm air caressing my labia and sending shivers down my legs. He licked Cuntessa slow and gentle in tiny circles. His tongue was warm and soft and I was rapidly becoming a drenched mess.

  His eyes flicked up to mine with a darkly knowing look and I squirmed, my grip on the ropes the only thing holding me upright. Ro let out small moans that vibrated through me, making me even wetter, and then he slipped a finger inside me and I was lost.

  I’d spent so long keeping my walls intact, but with Rohan, I happily let them tumble down. I was a million times stronger giving him my heart and soul than I was when I’d so rigidly guarded myself.

  I thrashed against the ropes, my growing cries echoing off the walls.

  A metal door clanged.

  “That’s the security door downstairs.” Ro’s eyes were alight with mischief. “Stop or go?”

  My heart hammered almost as badly as my clit throbbed.

  I pushed his head between my legs again.

  “Rohan?” The gym manager Hank’s heavy tread of footsteps slowly came up the stairs.

  Ro licked me faster, sloppier, thrusting two fingers in and out of my cunt.

  The lower half of my body clenched, my orgasm building like a tornado.

  Hank’s phone rang. He was p
ractically at the top of the stairs, but he mercifully stayed where he was to chat about some delivery.

  I stuffed a hand in my mouth, my hips bucking.

  Rohan growled against me and that was it. I shattered. And if I had to lose my lazy afterglow to scamper back into my shorts, the sacrifice was well worth it.

  16

  Ari called me while I was throwing the second-tier clothing that I’d left at my parents’ house for a reason when I’d moved out, into a suitcase. Clothing was a necessity and I’d chanced this quick stop. Luckily, my emergency credit card was still stashed here and I’d put my passport into my folks’ small safe when I’d returned from Los Angeles the last time, so I had some identification and access to money should I need them.

  The good news was that Ms. Clara was awake and was going to be fine. The even better news?

  “Put him on!” I squealed.

  “Navela?” Rabbi Abrams sounded subdued.

  “Rabbi, are you okay? Did Sienna hurt you?”

  “She was very solicitous. We were treated with care and compassion.”

  Rabbis could wield limited magic, such as the ritual spell to induct initiates, but they didn’t have inherent magic, so Sienna wouldn’t have conducted her experiments on them.

  “Did Rabbi Mandelbaum free you? How did you get away from him?”

  “Boris asked me if I’d join his Sanhedrin. I chose not to and he let me leave. You’re okay? I’ll see you soon?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  Ari spoke a few words with the Rabbi and then took the phone back. “Nee. Sienna wiped their memories.”

  “What do you mean? He sounded fine.” I flicked Esther’s lighter, my talisman, the motion soothing.

  “The induction ritual. Kane and I were asking Rabbi Abrams questions and he had no idea what we were talking about. If Sienna has destroyed the archived information about it, then we have no way to make new Rasha.”

  I sparked a hole in the one sweater I still owned that was halfway decent. “What about the ritual I performed on you?”

  “Already asked the witches. It was specific to our connection. There’s one woman here, Sofia, from Milan. She’s sympathetic and promised to suss out what information the witches have, given that it was Lilith who originally created Rasha.”

  The one memory it would be useful to have. It was a point in favor of digging into my brain and finding out what exactly I knew thanks to Lilith.

  I folded the sweater and added it to the suitcase. “Rasha creation was only supposed to be a one-time thing.”

  Great. Now I sounded like Sienna.

  “It is what it is,” Ari said. “Also, it’s true Mandelbaum let Rabbi A go, but he didn’t need him. All the rest of the rabbis threw their lot in with Mandelbaum. They’re onboard for End of Days if it gets them the Mashiach. He has more than enough men for his rabbinic High Council.”

  A world ruled by their Jewish patriarchy was paradise to them, the human cost irrelevant.

  “Listen, Ace. I’m tracking down this Kyle dude tonight, but tomorrow we’ll come to Los Angeles. Gather the troops for a meeting.”

  “On it. Good luck.”

  “You too.”

  As soon as I’d hung up, I lugged the suitcase downstairs and into the carport out back to wait for Rohan, Leo, and Drio. Leo had kindly offered to drive the guys to the mall so they could buy some clothes. I placed a quick call to the Heavenly Pleasure Gentleman’s Club to confirm the start of Kyle’s shift only to be told by a very cagey person that he’d quit.

  “That was sudden. When did this happen?”

  “About two hours ago, eh?” The man on the other end of the phone spoke with such a broad Canadian prairie accent that he’d actually said “aboot.” I could have smacked him for pandering to the worst American stereotypes about us. Then he added a “sorry” for good measure and hung up.

  Leo pulled up. Drio had been banished to the back seat, but he’d shaved. Unabomber hadn’t been a good look on him.

  Ro got out of the passenger seat to throw my suitcase in the trunk. He took advantage of the popped trunk to kiss me, pressing his hard-on against my thigh. “I should have booked the gym for longer.”

  I laughed. “Sucks to be you.”

  A car door slammed.

  “Someone else drive,” Drio demanded, interrupting further kissing.

  “I heard that.” Leo got out of the car and shut the trunk. “I’m a model of good driving.”

  The sound of a car speeding toward us grew louder.

  Unease prickled along the back of my neck. My parents lived in a boring residential area I called “the land without soul.” The biggest danger was distracted drivers, not drive-bys. I peered down the back lane.

  A black van fishtailed around the corner at the far end, veering straight for us. The passenger window lowered and a rifle barrel popped out. The ensuing gunfire wasn’t the chaotic percussion of fireworks. It was single, repetitive cracks with an undertone of bass, bullets expelled in a cloud of powder gases. They embedded in the back bumper of Leo’s car.

  “Va fungul!” Drio wrenched the back door open.

  Leo shoved him and me into the back like a pair of dominos.

  Angry Rasha landed on me with a grunt, which did nothing to improve his mood. He barely got his feet out of the way before Leo slammed the door and hopped into the driver’s seat, Rohan tearing around to leap into the passenger side.

  “Stay down!” She wrenched the engine on and peeled out.

  Drio and I fell sideways. My purse whacked me in the face.

  The van careened toward us, bullets blowing out our back window and spraying Drio and me with glass.

  Mandelbaum must have been saving the very few Rasha he had for more important things. Guns worked just fine to kill us and it could be played as a tragic shooting. With all the gang activity in Vancouver, these things happened and people were caught in the crossfire.

  Drio pushed my head down onto the seat, grabbed his black leather jacket that had fallen onto the floor of the car, and held it over us like a shield, obscuring us as targets. “You’re going to get yourself killed, you stupid demon.”

  “We don’t have time for you to drive like an old lady.” Leo veered wildly, bumping over a curb and taking out two defenseless trash cans before humping back down onto the road with a neck jarring thud.

  “I’m Italian,” he growled. “I can drive.”

  “Yeah, like someone’s nonna.”

  “We’re going to die,” I screeched, grabbing the seat so I didn’t roll off as she fishtailed it down the winding streets. There was a reason I always chauffeured us when Leo and I went out.

  “And not even because we get shot! Because you’re going to NASCAR race us into oblivion—Leonie, that was almost a racoon!”

  The car shuddered, making a horrible grinding noise. White acrid smoke seeped through the vents into the car from the motor overtaxing.

  Bullets flew toward us in slow motion clarity, like a visual effect from an action film.

  I portalled the entire vehicle out in the split second before they riddled the car.

  After a moment of tense scouting to see if we really had escaped, we saw we’d ended up in the lane behind my parents’ house.

  “Those bastards!” Leo stormed out of the car, checking it for damage.

  We all clambered out.

  “You can portal a car?” Rohan said.

  “Apparently?” My legs buckled out from under me and I grabbed the door for support. “Barely.”

  Rohan brushed the glass out of the back seat then ordered me to sit.

  Muttering under her breath, my bestie stomped down the road.

  “Where are you going?” I said.

  “To find them and make them paaaaay.”

  Her voice rose in a shriek as Drio tossed her over his shoulder. He marched back to the car, Leo bouncing, hanging upside down off him, her red hair flying every which way. She squirmed around, trying to get free. A curious lo
ok came over Drio’s face.

  “Quit moving.” He dumped her unceremoniously next to me.

  We talked her out of her blood vengeance idea, more or less, and drove the car to a Speedy Glass Repair shop where they promised to replace the windshield in under two hours.

  We used the time to top up our energy with a burger run and a stop at Leo’s to raid her place for undercover supplies. Either Kyle was a demon working for Hybris and skittish after the mass slaughter of his fellow spawn the other night, or he wasn’t a demon, but was skittish because someone or something had threatened him.

  Rohan and Drio were dispatched to pick up Leo’s car.

  I looked at myself in Leo’s bedroom mirror, twisting from side-to-side for the full view.

  “I find this offensive.” Leo frowned at me.

  “I do too.” I’d borrowed her red and black flannel shirt and her “I am Canadian” red toque. “That fact that you own these items is upsetting.”

  “It’s my Canada Day wear. I am a proud Canuck.”

  “Who was trying to bang one of the Molson beer girls the summer after first-year university.”

  She tossed her hair off her shoulder. “A rare failure.”

  “Must have been the lumberjack shirt.”

  Outside, someone leaned on the horn. I looked out the window. “Drio’s getting cranky. If you don’t want him here, say the word and he’s banished.”

  “Exiled to an island?”

  “With only rats to eat and packs of marauding wasps.”

  “I may take you up on that.” Leo ushered me out of her apartment and locked up.

  The Heavenly Pleasure Gentleman’s Club was a lofty name for a third-rate titty bar on the Downtown Eastside. The stoop outside the blacked-out front entrance was sticky and the inside was dim. Onstage, a large-breasted dancer ground listlessly to vapid pop and the air was fragrant with a mix of stale beer and shame.

  Removing all the female staff and the handful of male customers from the equation left me with two options for Kyle: a large Asian bouncer or the gangly bartender in the Metallica T-shirt and a ballcap with the Vancouver Canadians baseball team logo.

  I said a few words under my breath and flicked my fingers, putting to use a trick that Esther had taught me. The air along the side of the bartender’s neck shimmered, indicative of a glamour.