Fate's Consort

by Elysabeth Grace

  Analise huffed. “Your private army of mercenaries. Take me home.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Drake,” Angelis intruded. “I can’t allow you to return to your apartment until we neutralize any potential risks to you. Your safety is our primary concern.”

  “I’m sure it is since I’m paying you to babysit me, Mr. Angelis. How much?”

  He locked eyes with her and flashed a shit-eating grin intended to piss her off, which it did. Obviously, her resting bitch face and death stare meant nothing to him. “How much?”

  “Enough,” he replied. “However, money is an insignificant part of my job.”

  “I can’t leave the city, Mark,” she said. “Peter and I scheduled a meeting day after tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think you want to do business with Nathanson.”

  Analise closed her eyes. She was tired, angry, and terrified. Uber merc Angelis wasn’t improving her mood. “Mark, my day started badly. Either you muzzle your guard dog or I’ll do it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes. She was spinning out of control, even her cat was testing her. She needed order. It sustained the facade of self-control, allowing her to function like any normal human being.

  You are not a normal human being, Consort.

  Shush.

  She knew all her shortcomings, failures, weaknesses, and all-around inadequacies as a human. Dream Candy didn’t need to rehearse them.

  Do not take my words as an agreement with your thoughts.

  Right. You play me yet when we meet everything is wrong. Why should I believe you? Analise shifted on the seat. Answer one question, are you Peter Nathanson?

  Please heed Gabriel. His job is to protect you from all harm until we meet. I will explain everything once you arrive.

  Just answer the question. Are you Peter—

  Analise screamed when the car swerved, causing Will to brake suddenly. The roof buckled and the smell of sulfur seeped in. “Not again. I’ll be pissed if that smell belongs to another soul-seeker.”

  Seconds later, claws punctured the reinforced metal and peeled a section of the roof from its frame. A head poked through. “Come with me, my Queen.”

  Analise stared at the demon’s face. She couldn’t punch Angelis but. . .

  “You’re the second demonic asshole who’s come to me with this insanity. I’m so over this morning. I am not your damn queen.”

  The demon’s fingers began to knot like vines twisted beneath dirt. Smoke curled around each knot, spreading like cancer and consuming the demon’s flesh. Her eyelids shut tight, Analise telepathically followed the slow trail of death. She ignored the demon’s anguished pleas, although she winced when its shock rippled across her awareness accompanied by sadness, regret, and shame. As the soul-seeker died, he pushed a thought past his pain.

  I did not know. Forgive me, my lady.

  Then he was no more.

  Her body trembling, Analise sucked in a deep breath and forcefully pushed it from her lungs. Befuddled. Confused. Gobsmacked. Dumbfounded. Amazed. Flabbergasted.

  What are you doing, Analise Saria?

  Go away, Dream Candy. I really don’t need you inside my head while I’m dealing with all this.

  I do not understand.

  Today has been a crap day. One of my best friends murdered, Roger morphed into an angel and cut a demon’s head off, and I just killed one and can’t explain how.

  What does all this have to do with the words?

  Nothing and everything. Were you listening to me? I don’t know...they’re helping me deal with this horrible nightmare or the last bits of my sanity fleeing this hollow crown.

  Silence for a second. William Shakespeare.

  She ignored him. I don’t have time for this. With my luck, this isn’t a dream. This shit’s real and the next demon will probably kill me by accident.

  Soft laughter brushed her mind. You will not die, Analise Saria. Gabriel knows how disappointed I will be should you suffer any harm.

  The car slowed. Analise opened her eyes to see Roger’s navy silk shirt between her and the open car roof. She cursed when he lifted his weight from her shoulder. It would be sore.

  “See that she gets to her destination,” Angelis ordered before flinging open the door and leaping out. The door slammed shut as Will floored the accelerator.

  “What the hell?” Analise said.

  “Uh, Ms. Drake.”

  She stiffened and glared at Roger. “What?”

  His gaze dipped to where her fingers gripped his thigh. “My leg is getting numb.”

  Analise jerked her hand away. “Sorry.” Her hands shook violently as she laced her fingers. “Mark.”

  “Not now, Empress, and you owe my fifty dollars,” he said. “Once we land in New Mexico, you’ll have answers. Trust me.”

  The car came to a stop. Puzzled, given the sense of urgency, Analise looked out the window. They were parked near an open field. She recognized the land as the place for an annual Pumpkin Festival.

  “Great,” she muttered. “I’m in the middle of nowhere, about to leave my one means of transportation. So much for the ‘I’m in control of my destiny’ plan.”

  Roger and Will got out and quickly scanned the area before opening the car door. Mark reached for her hand and pulled her behind him as he exited. He took off running, forcing her to keep up as they raced past a grove of eucalyptus trees and into another open field.

  “If I’d known we were doing a marathon, I’d have stretched,” Analise panted. “Slow down before my legs cramp.” Mark slowed. “Thanks, I thought—”

  The noise of a sleek silver helicopter drowned the rest of her words.

  Chapter 6

  The Pacific Ocean receded from Analise’s view once the helicopter turned eastward. The aircraft flew quietly, making it easy to make sense of the chaos around her. Once she put her checks and balances back into place, come up with an explanation for her nightmare, the soul-seekers, and two deaths and a disappearance, she’d feel more in control. There was nothing logical about her dream, so she set that aside. Mei Li and Iris, on the other hand, made heartbreaking sense. The serial killer who stalked her had returned.

  What didn’t make sense were the demons, who were an unexpected addition to her paranoia. Was Angelis right? Was Nathanson’s sudden interest in AnthroGen, Mei Li’s murder, and the demons’ sudden appearance all connected? Analise knew Tampa was a victim by virtue of proximity, yet her death hurt just as much as Mei Li’s. A minute earlier or later, the woman would still be alive.

  At least the demon was dead. His death replayed itself in Analise’s mind. The moment of recognition, the apology and plea to leave, and a flaming sword. . .

  Why was she the target of a supernatural kidnap attempt? Despite a healthy willingness to suspend disbelief, demons were a whole other order of ‘excuse me’ and ‘I want no parts of that’. The centerpiece of the puzzle was Roger the shifter. Because of their complex genetic structure, shifters were human and some type of animal. To her knowledge, shifters weren’t capable of creating illusions. She was familiar with stories of demonic illusions, and Roger the archangel was different. It wasn’t an illusion. He was Raphael, which raises the possibility. . .

  Analise shook her head and refused to trip over that rock and fall down the rabbit hole. Roger was a shifter with characteristics unknown.

  What is it about Roger that troubles you, Tamahaq? You accept the existence of shifters, telepaths, and now demons. Why not angels? You realize the contradiction.

  We’re not having this conversation, Analise replied to the woman’s voice inside her head. Besides, this isn’t about my belief system. This is about an out of the ordinary shift. He became the Raphael I’ve seen in a painting. Everything I know about shifters is the shift is always human to animal or, rarely, animal to human.

  There are many interspecies shifting, Tamahaq. A point we’ll take up later. I suggest you read the Tamahaq’s diary once you return from Tsin
Łizhin.

  Can we shut this down? I don’t need you adding to my paranoia. Analise sighed. It’s not helping.

  Her world had tilted on its axis. People she cared about died, which meant she was definitely a menace to society.

  You did not kill those you loved. Tamahaq, I really need you to do what you must free us, the voice intruded. Being trapped inside your head at the moment is no fun.

  Trust me, because I didn’t commit murder, well except for the demon, doesn’t absolve me of guilt. If not for me, Martine and Mei Li would still be alive. I’m done with this topic, and you can leave any time.

  She sealed the part of her mind where the voice lived and glowered at Mark. He closed his iPad cover and rested his head against his seat.

  “How long are you going to glare at me before you break your vow of silence?”

  “I don’t know if I will ever speak to you again.”

  His hands gestured a shrug. “As you wish, Empress.”

  Analise wanted to scream, I’m scared, frustrated, and confused. I want to have a tantrum, be sent to bed, and sleep until it all disappeared.

  An impatient huff whistled across her mind. Ignoring it, she pressed a button on the armrest console. A television screen on the wall flickered on. Analise grabbed a sleek remote and searched for a San Francisco news channel.

  “Hi, Tiffany Chalmers here and welcome to Channel Six News.”

  The woman on the screen was news-reporter pretty as she read from the teleprompter, the ubiquitous half-smile plastered on her artificially plump lips. Even the woman’s name was fitting, though it was probably as fake as her polished smile.

  My, we’re awfully petty this morning, although I suppose there is a legitimate reason.

  Analise ignored the telepathic intrusion. Listening to the reporter talked, she snorted. It was the same with all television reporters. The carefully modulated voice and the amusement threaded into the fabric of their speech.

  “San Francisco PD remains baffled by last night’s homicide. Officers discovered the body of twenty-six-year-old Mei Li Kwan inside a SoMa condo. Kwan, who lived and worked in Santa Cruz, was an employee of AnthroGen Labs, which is headquartered here.”

  The tv anchor inhaled and performed the slow release of expectancy. “SFPD has issued an APB for Iris Jensen, the condo’s owner and reportedly the last person to see Kwan alive. Police are asking anyone with information to call 800-555-6644.”

  Analise pressed the off button and closed her eyes.

  Guilt is not warranted, Tamahaq.

  Why not? If I’m the catalyst, shouldn’t I carry the blame?

  The voice huffed. If you want to carry a necessary weight, then make sure it’s valid. Ignoring who and what you are, refusing to see truths, and hiding from your destiny are reasons for you to feel guilt. Are you ready to listen to me?

  Analise ignored her as she often did, determined to find her own way out of this mess. Because listening meant one thing—

  I don’t have time for this, Analise Saria Willoughby.

  Analise started to argue when a black curtain closed off her awareness. She was angry and pushed Analise down a particular path of memories.

  Male laughter mingled with her mother’s horrified screams followed by absolute silence. The silence flowed into the child protective services office where sixteen-year-old Analise sat quietly listening. Listened while a social worker smugly said, “Analise is socially inept but shows no sociopath or psychopathic tendencies.”

  Her foster parent, Teresa Renard, gaped at the worker’s callous words but said nothing. Silence stalked Analise into the bedroom where she wept, the first time since her parents’ deaths. Silence buried her grief in the feather pillow on the bed where she flung herself.

  Analise fought the memories keeping her awareness shrouded in pain. She didn’t want them, not ever. Didn’t want the raw anger and grief triggered by Mei Li’s death and the demon attacks to erupt. But she long ago learned, rather painfully, the intrusive female presence and the memories had a will of their own. There was a purpose for today’s cinematic choice, a necessity for her to relive the moment Analise Willoughby discovered she wasn’t entirely human.

  Her sixteen-year-old self repeatedly punched the pillow, seeing the social worker’s face. The one time she’d been this angry her mum calmed her. Now that Kella Willoughby was no longer alive to ease the rage, Analise’s fury sparked and spread quickly across her body like molten lava. She embraced the sensation, sucked it inside until every cell was aflame. The blaze rose to the surface and ravaged her teenage body. She stiffened, her muscles paralyzed, and her skin stretched tight across her bones, leaving her gasping for air. The pain was relentless and terrifying.

  When she tried to call Mrs. Renard, the only noise Analise heard was the soft growl of a cheetah.

  Are you done? Analise angrily demanded. The answer was a smug for now.

  She let her gaze settle on Mark. Although his eyes were closed, he wasn’t asleep. “After everything that’s happened today, Marcus, I’m not parachuting out of this helicopter.”

  He peered at her. “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it? Not even a ‘Marcus is my uncle?’ Just okay.”

  “Yep.”

  Torn between hysteria and laughter, Analise chose laughter and swiveled her seat to face him. “No more secrets. I want you to talk to me not your hired guns.”

  Mark hesitated before he said, “Agreed.”

  “The monosyllabic doesn’t become you, and I can fire you.”

  Mark shifted to the seat next to her. He entangled their fingers and gently squeezed. “I don’t think you know what to do without me to anchor your flights of fancy, Empress.”

  “You consider this a flight of fancy? Awakened at three o’clock in the morning, rushed into a car immediately attacked by a realistic version of a carving I once saw in an Algerian cave.”

  “Four.”

  She squinted at him. “Four a.m.,” he corrected. “At three a.m. I was climbing out of bed.”

  Her fingers flicked air. “Anyway, two of the ugliest things this side of a bad zombie movie show up, calling me their bloody queen. Roger, a Black archangel, behead the first demon to show up. The other one. . .that one I killed.”

  She sucked her teeth and exhaled. “A flight of fancy is not what I’d call this morning. Change of subject. Why are we going to Chaco?”

  Analise watched him squirm. He grabbed a lock of his hair and twisted the reddish strand before letting it fall from his fingers.

  “We need to retrieve something.”

  Her glower had him squirming even more. He flushed and said, “ Don’t give me that look, Lise. You’ve got to trust me.”

  “You, I trust. It’s Angelis who’s giving me rancid vibes. Remember, he said this trip was his idea. By the way, where exactly did you find Gabriel Angelis? Assuming that’s his actual name.”

  “It is his name. Rancid vibes?”

  “Yep. The vibes like you’re in a horror movie with snakes, swamps, and demons running around with bacteria-infected machetes.”

  Mark eyed her, shaking his head. “You need to just stop.”

  Analise shrugged. “I speak it as I see it. Who is he?”

  “Martine hired him. I kept his firm on contract. Rangers, Inc. is one of the best security firms in the country, even though he refuses to take contracts outside of California.”

  “Why won’t he take jobs outside Cali?”

  “You need to ask him.”

  “Assuming he survives the attack of the killer demons after his idiotic leap from a speeding car, trust me, I will.” She drew her knees up under her chin. “What’s in Chaco Canyon I haven’t already seen?”

  “Intellectual curiosity or pissed off?”

  “A little of both.” She looked at him. “Terrified because a serial killer is stalking people I care about. I don’t enjoy having to flee my home in the middle of the night. Most definitely not thrilled to find myself the lottery
prize in a demonic scavenger hunt, which doesn’t negate my ambivalence about angels.”

  She paused when he arched an eyebrow. “Early morning and no coffee.”

  Mark chuckled and draped his arm over her shoulder, tugging her close. “Again, do you trust me, Empress?”

  “You know better than anyone I’ve spent my life living comfortably wrapped in paranoia and self-control. Now I have to add bloody soul-seekers to the list of things to worry about. You can’t blame me for being a bit testy.” She nestled in his embrace and reached up to toy with a lock of his hair. “Stupid question. The only two men I trust are you and Richard.”

  “I’m asking you to give Gabriel your trust as well.”

  Analise started to pull away. Mark tightened his hold on her. “I believe what is happening is about you and AnthroGen’s research. If you’re taken, there is no way to stop the company from falling into the wrong hands.”

  When she relaxed, he added, “As to your demons, you’ve always considered the possibility of multiple species of supernaturals.”

  “They’re not my demons. I didn’t create them, and I’m definitely not their queen.”

  With a quick glance at Roger who flew the helicopter, Analise pursed her lips. “However, I’m willing to concede the possibility of angels if Roger offers up DNA.”

  Mark’s laughter earned a smile. “What about Angelis’ hypothesis about a link between the demons and Nathanson?”

  She shook her head. “You ran the stats. His acquisition style seems straight forward. He doesn’t seem the type to play with demons. If he sees something he wants, he goes after it.”

  “Your company is unique. AnthroGen’s employees don’t leave, not even the postdocs and consultants. Interns keep coming back until you hire them. You also don’t accept corporate money,” Mark responded. “That makes the acquisition ever more difficult.”

  “I do get the sense the man doesn’t like enigmas or things he can’t control.” She sighed. “Do you remember the dreams I told you about?”

  “Empress, it is normal for a woman your age to have erotic dreams,” Mark said paternally, patting her cheek.