Home > Eve of Chaos(33)

Eve of Chaos(33)
Author: Sylvia Day

“Got it.” Alec shifted them up to his apartment.

His mother sat on the black leather couch in the living room. His father was apparently in one of the back bedrooms. When Eve jerked her chin down the hall, Alec took the hint and joined his dad, leaving her alone with his mom.

Ima looked up at her with reddened eyes and nose. She looked years older than she had the night before, with deep grooves around her pretty mouth and slumped shoulders. Eve took a seat beside her and offered her a commiserating smile.

Setting a hand on Eve’s knee, Ima asked in a whisper, “How did you get the necklace?”

“Satan lent it to me.”

“Why?”

“It wards off Infernals.”

“Does it?” Ima looked away. Her tone grew distant. “I didn’t know. It didn’t do that for me.”

Eve looked down the hail, making sure that Alec was still occupied with helping his father. Then she leaned in and queried softly, “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Nodding, Ima explained, “When I married Adam, Jehovah gave it to me, along with twenty-three other pieces of jewelry.”

Was the piece around Alec’s neck the only one that was charmed? Perhaps they all had a unique gift. “How did Satan get his hands on it?”

“I gave it to him. In a way, it’s fitting that you would give it to Cain.”

A sentimental gesture. A gift of some meaning, apparently. A message delivered, as Satan had said.

“You shouldn’t say any more,” Eve murmured. “Cain shares my thoughts and memories. Whatever I know, he eventually finds out about.”

“Ah, I see.” Ima gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Adam and I have been together forever. That’s not going to change now.”

“I hope I see you again. A longer visit, perhaps.”

“I would like that.”

Ima hugged her. A few moments later, Adam did the same, albeit with some awkwardness. Then Alec shifted away with them. The parting was bittersweet for Eve. She’d spent only enough time with them to learn that she wanted to spend more.

Knowing there was much to be done before the morning dawned, Eve returned to her condo. Sydney was cooking chili in the kitchen, Reed was on the phone with his insurance company, and Montevista was in the shower. Once again, Eve kicked off her heels, hoping it would be for the last time tonight. She was beat. She pushed them under the console table by the front door and padded down the hallway to her office.

Ishamel was there, sitting at her desk and staring intently at the computer monitor. He leaned back when she entered and sighed. That sound softened him in her eyes, as did the sight of him sans jacket and waistcoat.

“Hi,” she said.

“How are you?”

She hummed a noncommittal sound. “I’ve been better.”

“I found what I think you were looking for.”

“Oh?”

The mal‘akh gestured at her monitor. She rounded the desk to see what he was referring to.

Frozen on the screen was a grainy image of Sarakiel in sunglasses, sitting at a picnic table in what looked to be a public park. Across from her sat another blonde woman and a large dark-haired man.

Eve asked, “What am I looking at?”

“Sarakiel.” Ishamel pointed at the familiar figure. “This is Asmodeus. And this is Lilith.”

Eve’s mouth formed an O. She leaned in closer. Unfortunately, not much was distinguishable aside from body type and hair color. She couldn’t get a good idea of what Adam’s first wife looked like, much to her disappointment. “That can’t be good. How did you get this?”

“Raguel is gone. Two archangels are on his turf. I thought it’d be wise to keep a close eye on things in his absence.”

She straightened. “You rock.”

“Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Tell me what this means.”

Moving over to the futon, Eve sat with her legs tucked beneath her and explained what Mariel had told her.

She finished with, “Trading a handler would knock twenty-one Marks off their game, but only temporarily. I can’t see that being worth trading Gadara for. Unless the handler was Abel.”

“That ups the ante considerably,” Ishamel agreed. “Exactly. And leave it to a demon to tell Abel to his face that he was being traded.”

“How did you narrow the culprit down to Sarakiel?”

Eve shrugged. “It’s a woman thing, I guess. We can be vindictive when slighted.”

“You’re taking a risk telling me this,” he pointed out. “You are all expendable to me, if that’s what it takes to get Raguel back.”

“Right.”

“So you must have a plan.”

“I guess you could call it that.” She smiled. “Clusterfuck also works.”

Ishamel nodded. “Count me in. What do you need from me?”

***

“An odd location for a meet, Cain,” Sabrael murmured. “The most popular place to commit suicide in the United States. Is this a message of some sort?”

“Nothing so morbid.” Alec blinked and engaged thick tears, protecting his eyes from the seraph’s brilliance. “Eve pointed it out while watching a television show about witches.”

“Far from morbid,” the seraph said wryly, “I think that qualifies as romantic.”

The view from the top of a Golden Gate Bridge tower was unrivaled. The waters of San Francisco Bay shimmered with the city lights and the sea breeze was cold, damp, and brisk. It kept Alec’s head clear, which he appreciated.

Sabrael took a seat beside him, his powerful legs dangling over the edge: “Are you enjoying your ascension?”

“For the most part.”

“Am I here to be thanked?”

Alec’s mouth curved. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“What would happen to me if Raguel came back?”

“Ah. . . Excellent question.” Sabrael turned his flame-blue gaze on Alec. “I was not expecting something so thoughtful.”

“Glad I could surprise you.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know. Will I die?”

Sabrael laughed. It was a gorgeous, heavenly sound. Unique to the seraphim. “My dear Cain. I doubt Jehovah could afford to lose a Mark of your talents. You are irreplaceable, I would say.”

“Good to know.”

“However, you would lose the North American firm and all that comes with it.”

“Everything, then,” Alec clarified. “Would I return to the way I was before? Would I at least be restored to a full mal’akh?”

“You misunderstand me. I would see to it that you retained your archangel gifts, despite the lack of responsibilities that usually accompany them.” The seraph’s voice took on a biting edge. “Do not forget that you owe me, Cain. No matter what task I decide upon, having you as an archangel is of greater benefit to me.”

“I’ve never failed you, and that was while I had no gifts beyond those of an average Mark.”

“What are you saying? Have you decided that the life of an archangel is not to your liking?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. But my goal was to head a firm, not acquire more gifts. Without the one, I have no need for the other.”

“I have need of it, and I will not give it up simply because you miss your Evangeline.”

“She isn’t gone.” Alec’s fingers curled around the red-painted ironwork. Despite the chilly temperature and the soothing necklace, his skin was growing as hot as his rising temper. “If I can get my shit together, her and I will be okay.”

“You have come to the wrong place to ask for sympathy.” The seraph’s tone lacked all inflection. “She weakens you, and Abel. She is a mediocre Mark, barely sufficient in the practical applications, and prone to blasphemy and irreverence. You are a fool if you think I will sacrifice you—the greatest killing machine ever created—for her.”

Alec’s grip tightened to the point of pain.

I won’t invest in a relationship with someone who can’t love me, she’d said, and he knew it was true.

Which made Abel a greater threat now than ever before. He’d become the go-to guy when she couldn’t turn to Alec.

Sabrael levitated until his feet were once again level with the top of the tower. “You will remain an archangel until I decide you are no longer useful in that capacity. I find that possibility very slim indeed.”

The seraph left.

Alec lingered, hoping that time would present the solution he searched for.

***

Once Sydney and Montevista were settled for the night—Sydney in the guest room and Montevista on the couch in the living room—Eve had Ishamel shift with her to the subterranean floors of the tower. Together they knocked on Hank’s door.

“It’s late,” Eve said. “Are you sure he’s still here?”

“He lives here.” Ishamel set a hand at the small of her back and urged her through the opening door.

“Welcome back,” Hank said, appearing out of the darkness. “You’ve had an interesting afternoon since you left me.”

“You could call it that’ she agreed dryly.

He must have noted Eve’s velour jogging suit and Ishamel’s casual state, because he changed from dress slacks and shirt to a black sweat suit that reminded Eve of Riesgo’s, although the priest was considerably more muscular.

Her resolve strengthened further. A lot of people were depending on her to not screw everything up. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

“Let’s sit?’ Hank led the way to the now-familiar rough-hewn table. Immediately afterward, Fred approached in a tight patent leather and metal bodysuit. Her face was heavily made-up and her long white hair was teased big. She set a tray down bearing a pitcher of Hank’s favored iced tea and three glasses, then sashayed away, revealing a horsetail-thing swaying from the rear of her outfit.

Eve stared. Ishamel looked away.

“Hot damn, Fred,” Eve called after her.

Hank gave an elegant shrug. “Note that the tengu is quiet. Seems he’s become enamored with Fred. The dominatrix guise keeps him distracted.”

Since Eve herself had been rendered speechless for a moment, she could see how well the getup worked. She returned her attention to Hank. “Do you have something or some way to keep Infernals from disintegrating when killed?”

One red brow rose. “Why?”

“I need a body.”

“The masking agent seems to preserve bodies.”

“It also restores them.” She shook her head. “I don’t need any more recurring kills. I want the vanquished to stay dead, but I need some remains. At least until cremation.”

“Hmn. The necklace might do the trick.”

Eve sat back. “You think?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Okay, next question. What happens to mortals who see things they shouldn’t?”

Hank’s fingertips rubbed back and forth along a deep groove in the table. “Depends on how credible the witness is and what proof they have, if any. It’s impossible to say until it happens. You’ll have to take your chances.”

Ishamel picked up a glass and swallowed tea in great big gulps. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked, “It just so happens that I might have a use for a Nix attractant. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you?”

“Why, yes.” Hank smiled wide. “I have one. Glad you can use it, since our firm leader ordered me not to give it to Evangeline.”

Fred reappeared with a lovely green glass atomizer bottle, which she set down in front of Ishamel. Eve studied the lili while she was close, looking beneath the cosmetics to the delicate features beneath. Eve wondered how closely Fred resembled her mother. She was a very pretty girl, with a delicate deportment that effectively hid the nature of the beast within.

“Thank you,” Ishamel said.

Eve’s lips pursed.

“What troubles you?” Hank asked.

“Would Lilith have a reason for wanting to get her hands on Abel?”

Ishamel stared hard at her. “You assume she is interested in him. Why not assume her motivation is the resulting gain? I see him as a means to an end.”

“Perhaps it’s you she wants,” Hank suggested, catching up on the conversation by reading Eve’s thoughts. “Perhaps she views you as a surrogate Eve, beloved wife of Adam. She hates both of them with a passion.”

“Let’s skip that avenue for now’ Eve said. “It’s a dead end. Lilith would either kill me or torture me. Either way, end of story. But if she had Abel, what would she do with him? Keep him or trade him, right? If she kept him, why? And if she traded him, what would she trade him for? What does Satan have that she might want?”

Ishamel laughed, a rusty unused sound. “Lilith wants everything. And she’s had pretty much everything in Hell in her bed at some point or another. The earth is a playground to her.”

Eve looked at Hank, who tossed up his hands in a clueless gesture. “Ishamel’s right. Lilith wants everything.”

“My mother.” Fred said, lingering at the edge of the circle of light that hung over the table, “is motivated by boredom. She does things for odd reasons and oftentimes for no reason at all. I gave up trying to figure her out.”

“All right.” Eve stood and yawned. “Thank you both for your help.”

Ishamel stood along with her. Hank remained seated.

“You’re determined to jump the gun and set this off tomorrow?” the occultist asked.

“I’m just setting the stage.” Her smile was grim. “Whether the show starts or not.. . We’ll have to wait and see.”

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