Its friend ramped up its pointless attempt to get through the wards.
Baruch shook the fiend that he held. “Sheket!”
“Bevakasha. Hey!” I sang, finishing off Baruch’s “quiet” with a “please.” He shook his head at me. “What?” I said. “I went to Jewish camp.”
“Araculum store images for later replaying,” Baruch said. “Bottom feeders farmed out to gather intel. But what exactly?” he added in a murmur, jamming his thumb into the underside of the demon’s neck.
It spasmed, keening.
Expression grim, Baruch jerked the still convulsing creature toward us. A series of images flashed across its rows of eyes as if from a stuttering projector. They were playing too fast for me to make sense of them but Rohan glared at me.
“It met with Asmodeus,” he said.
“That’s not my fault.”
“No, but Asmodeus probably sent them here, scouting for information on who killed his children,” Baruch explained.
Rohan shot me a pointed look. “That would be you.”
My stomach twisted into knots worthy of any BDSM Dom. I let out a squeaky “eep.”
“Ro.” Baruch’s chastisement was no less effective for his calm tone.
Rohan gave an annoyed sigh.
Baruch punched the demon in the left side of its head. Its eyes widened, briefly, comically, then all light and life faded as the demon disappeared with a pop and a puff of wiry hairs. Baruch brushed his hands off.
I gave him a shaky smile. “Tree Trunk, you’re my hero.”
Behind me, someone gave a snorting laugh. “Oh my God! I’ve been trying to place him for three years now. It was less celebrity, more Ent. My bad.”
My mouth fell open. The voice belonged to a Japanese guy, probably in his mid-twenties, with spiky hair and a sculpted body. How could I tell? He was only clad in tight black shorts, black combat boots, and a smattering of silver dust across his bare chest. Accessorized with cool nipple rings and a giant coffee cup in one hand that he sipped at. He stepped on the remaining araculum’s head without pause as he swaggered onto the property, not even bothering to confirm that he’d killed the demon. Which he had.
“Mtsots li ta-zain,” Baruch replied. He pressed his hand to a scanner on the inside of the fence and the gate swung shut.
The new guy made a kissy face at him. “Promises, promises.”
“What’d he say?” I asked.
In response he jammed his tongue in his cheek, miming a blow job. Then he mouthed the words “suck my cock.”
Ooh. I clapped my hands. “Say it again, slowly so I can learn,” I told Baruch.
“Rohan,” Baruch said, “kill him and bring her to the Vault.”
“That sounds suspiciously like the same thing,” I said, watching with dismay as Baruch stalked up the drive.
New guy shrugged. “In your case, they’ll still leave a body for the family to claim.” He didn’t seem particularly upset about his fate. I liked him.
Rohan took my elbow to steer me to this Vault, but I tugged free. “Don’t be rude. Introduce me to my new best friend.” I turned my back on Rohan in anticipation of the intro, resisting a giggle as I felt him bristle behind me.
“Nava Katz, Kane Hashimoto. Kane, Nava. Our newest Rasha.”
While Rohan delivered my credentials in a disgruntled voice, Kane eyed me up and down, took another sip of coffee, and then apparently finding me worthy, held out his hand to be kissed. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
I complied with the obligatory respectful pressing of lips to skin then pressed Kane’s hand to my heart. “Please tell me you don’t have a boyfriend.”
Kane ran a hand along his body in show model form. “Like I could limit this prize to one lucky winner.”
Oooh. How much would Ari adore me if I set them up? Probably not at all but Kane looked like serious fun. I grinned at him.
“You’re nowhere near as uptight as the other twin,” Kane said.
I flung an errant strand of hair out of my face, planting my hands on my hips. “You better not be dissing my brother.”
“As if I’d waste my time.”
“Ari should be the one here,” I said, starting my plug to put the rightful Katz child in his chosen place.
A flash of… guilt? agreement? crossed Kane’s face. “The power has spoken.”
I let out a frustrated breath. Stonewalled again.
Rohan tugged on my arm, having reached the end of his limited patience. “Come on, Lolita.”
I blew Kane a kiss and skedaddled after broody.
We headed deeper onto the property, walking–or in my case, jogging–past towering Cypress and Arbutus trees dotting a perfectly manicured lawn. I gave a low whistle at the amount of land the Brotherhood owned. “This is like a whole city block.”
“Deep pockets.” Rohan rounded a corner and a massive 1920’s brick manor, flanked by two long, raised beds, their flowers in bud, came into view. It wasn’t Windsor castle but it still qualified for mansion status.
Messenger bag pressed to my chest, I craned my neck up to take in the arched doors, beveled bay window in the turret, and multiple chimneys. Impressive, but with nary an archer or vat of boiling pitch in sight. My shoulders relaxed out of my ears. “Gatsby throw a party or two here?”
“Close.” Rohan picked up the pace, forcing me to run up the front walk. “The estate was originally built with bootlegger money.”
“Where’s Rabbi Abrams?” The sooner I could make a strong case for getting Ari re-confirmed as an initiate, the better.
“Away for a couple days,” Rohan said.
Hmm. Perhaps I could speak with someone at Brotherhood HQ in Jerusalem. I eyed the offices on the ground floor, sussing out if there was a lowly admin assistant I could charm contact info out of, but Rohan twirled his hand at me to move me along.
I marched up the wide front stairs, my determination to put Ari back on his rightful path the only thing keeping me from punching Rohan in the head. Though I knocked into him as I shouldered past into the cathedral ceilinged foyer. I glanced up the wide curving staircase to the second floor but no help appeared from those quarters. Fine. I’d be the perfect newbie Rasha so my new mentors would be more inclined to listen to me.
I hung my bag on the knob of the coat closet door, along with my hoodie, leaving me in my red Good Morning, I see the assassins have failed T-shirt.
“Nice to see you dressed for the occasion,” Rohan said, tilting his head to check out my ass. “Tap,” he read. The word written across my butt on my black sweats. “I don’t get it. Is it some kinky promise of backdoor spirits?”
I forced my teeth to unclench. “Tap as in dance, you perv.”
His face lit up in unholy glee. “Like Shirley Temple? Please tell me there’s video.”
There was and I was hot shit in it. I gestured to my outfit. “These are my workout clothes. Since I’m guessing there will be working out involved.”
As Rohan marched me through the house, I caught glimpses of bright rooms with wide arched doorways, dazzling crown molding, and intricate inlaid wood flooring “Are all Rasha as crazy good-looking as Kane?” I asked, rubbernecking at the rooms like a tourist. From the decidedly masculine furniture, there was no doubt this was an all-male lair.
“There’s a reason we’re called the Fallen Angels,” Rohan replied.
“Yeah, delusions of grandeur.” I scooted past a massive painting of a malevolent demon hurtling toward the fires of Hell. On the table next to it was a small, painted demon statue with an exaggerated grimace and tusks who I’d guess to be of Thai or Indonesian origin. “You named yourselves.”
He flashed me a grin. “If the label fits.”
“Don’t be cocky. It’s insufferable.”
“Only if you can’t pull it off.”
Wow.
“Question,” I said, curious about how clean and clutter-free the place was. Very weird given the all-alpha atmosphere. “Who takes care of things? ’Cause I�
��m not doing some Snow White gig where I keep house. I am Rasha. Hear me roar.” I thought about it. “Well, crackle.”
“We have Ms. Clara for that.” Kane had joined us, minus the coffee cup, but not plus any more clothing yet. An elaborate set of black wings was tattooed on his back, their tips licked by flame. A few feathers had fallen, scorched, to the base of his spine. Had he not been gay and already assigned in my mind to my brother, I’d have enjoyed exploring that tattoo. With my tongue.
The heavenly scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies broke into my lustful imaginings. “Does she make cookies on a regular basis?” I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“The best,” Kane said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Yes please. Happy to meet the kindly housekeeper who baked. Ignoring Rohan’s growled, “Downstairs in two, or else,” I skipped off to the kitchen, envisioning the plump, good-natured granny wearing her white ruffled apron, a tray of cookies in hand, fresh from the oven.
I got the tray part right.
“Ms. Clara, meet Nava.”
I put out my hand, my smile freezing in place as the five-foot-nothing woman at the stove faced me. Yes, with the envisioned tray of cookies but could I have been more wrong about the rest? For starters, the only plump thing about this chick were her boobs, which strained against her buttery yellow wrap dress.
She plunked the tray on top of the stove.
I dropped my hand along with the lower half of my jaw. Ms. Clara was stunning. Late-twenties, tops, she was also like a giant–sorry–mini ball of sunshine from her golden sun-kissed skin to her blonde curls and blue eyes.
“Another girl.” She beamed at me, her voice breathy, as she tossed the oven mitt on the counter. “Finally.”
“Nice to meet you, Clara,” I said.
“Ms. Clara,” she snapped in a voice so stern that I flinched, standing at attention.
She giggled. “Oops.”
“Ms. Clara secretly moonlights as one of Vancouver’s top dominatrixes,” Kane informed me. He stared at her in open adoration. “She’s so badass.”
I was supposed to be the lone badass girl in this place. It was the one thing I had going for me here. She was supposed to be the old caretaker they adored like a nanny. “Sorry,” I said, smoothing out my T-shirt. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Clara.”
“Have a cookie, doll.” She held out a plate of perfectly formed, perfectly warm, and perfectly melty chocolate chip cookies. Perfect seemed to be a theme with her.
“Thanks.” I bit into it and moaned. “Oh. My. God.”
“A sound many a man and woman has made in Ms. Clara’s presence,” Rohan said, coming into the kitchen. He rounded on me with a mouthed “Or else.”
I took another bite.
“Rohan!” Ms. Clara was at least a foot shorter than Rohan, but when she caught him up in a hug, it was he who stumbled, her lean but toned arms pulling him down to her height. “I’d heard you were coming. How long are you back for?”
“Who knows? With this one?” He jerked his thumb at me. “You may be stuck with me forever.”
“He’s terrible,” Ms. Clara said to me, with an affectionate shake of the head.
“With worse depths revealed every moment,” I agreed, savagely taking another bite.
He shot me a wolfish grin. “Duty calls.” He gripped the back of my T-shirt and gave a sharp tug to get me moving.
I stood there, finishing my cookie.
“Don’t let them bully you,” she said. “And make sure they let you come up for lunch. I make a great iced tea with plenty of electrolytes.” She winked at me. “Plus, I’d be happy to give you some whip usage tips.”
“Damn. I’m going to like you, aren’t I?” I felt retroactively bad for feeling like I had to compete against her. I popped the rest of the cookie in my mouth, taking a moment to savor the joy dissolving on my tongue. “If only for more mouthgasms on a regular basis.”
“Aww, smutty.” She patted my cheek. “We’re going to get along just fine.”
Rohan groaned. “That’s all we need.” He led me from the room.
I tried to wriggle away from him but he kept his hand hot and steady on my coccyx. Fuck, he was turning my innocent body part into a dirty erogenous zone. “I can walk without assistance,” I said. “Upright and everything.”
“I’m checking to see if you go where I put you.”
“First into the line of fire?”
“You’re smarter than the average bear, aren’t you?” He poked me in the back to steer me down two flights of narrow stairs, past the ground floor offices, and into a basement. Even though the basement walls consisted of solid concrete blocks painted a bright white, the ceilings were still a good nine feet high, with wide, well-lit hallways. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were secret tunnels that they’d carted booze through back during Prohibition.
“Why’d someone choose the name the Fallen Angels? You’re not something that goes bump in the night.”
“We’re powerful beings fighting for good in the shadows.” Rohan stopped so abruptly before a thick iron door that I whacked into him. I stepped back, rubbing my nose while he placed his hand on a pad mounted beside the door to be scanned.
“Again, that’s my point. Fighting for good. Not fallen.”
“Everything falls eventually, Lolita, it’s all just a matter of when gravity kicks in. Either way, we’re the badass chosen ones wrapped in a really hot package.” He tugged on one of my curls. “Time to prove you’re one of us.”
“One of us” as in chosen? Or did I get badass and hot status, too?
The door unlatched with a click.
“Welcome to the Vault.” Rohan’s eyes lit up with an evil glint, then he pushed me inside the all-consuming darkness and slammed the door.
Chapter 6
I froze, straining my eyes seeking out the demons that I was positive they had stashed in here with me.
After a moment, Rohan opened the door again. “Kidding.”
He flicked on the light to reveal a vast, well-lit studio. The ceilings and walls were the same concrete blocks as the hallway, but the floor was wall-to-wall blue padding. There were no windows.
“You’re a dick,” I told him.
He glanced down at his crotch. “It is legendary, but it doesn’t fully define me.”
“My God,” I muttered. Noting Rohan’s bare feet on the pads, I toed out of my shoes, stacking them beside the door. “Why is this called the Vault?” If there were valuables they were well hidden because there was nothing to see. Not even a punching bag.
“It’s the most secure room.”
I rolled out my shoulders. “Now what?”
“Training,” Baruch said, entering.
“Shalom, Sensei Tree Trunk,” I said, bowing with my hands together in Namaste position. “What’s first? Weapons?” I could totally rock a weapon.
Baruch and Rohan exchanged glances. “Absolutely not,” they said in unison.
Baruch’s fist whipped out and bopped me on the nose.
“What the hell, dude?” I prodded for broken cartilage and blood but it had been more of a tap for shock effect than to do any damage. I was surprised, but otherwise fine.
“Demon tag. Now you’re dead,” Rohan said.
Baruch kicked out, swiping my legs out from underneath me.
I landed hard on my back. My hands flew up to cover my face as Baruch dove down, grabbing me lightly by the throat.
“Dead.” Rohan yawned.
Baruch helped me up.
“I wasn’t ready–”
Baruch mimed ripping out my heart.
Rohan smirked. “And dead. Getting the idea?”
I turned my back to him, refusing to let him taunt me. “Baruch, please tell me what I did wrong so that I do not repeat the experience. Since I refuse to give Emo Snowflake the satisfaction of dying.”
The nickname earned me a sharp jab in my back.
The side of Baruch’s mouth kicked up in
the tiniest of grins but his voice was serious when he spoke to me. “You did not access your power. Your first instinct right now is to scream and run, like you did with the araculum.” He pinned me with the weight of his shrewd blue gaze. “You’ll be dead by nightfall unless you access your power at the first prickling of trouble.”
“Got it. But the power seems to show up on its own.”
“Your magic wants to be used,” Baruch explained. “If it’s not the first thing you fire up, you won’t live long enough to use it. Activate it. Get in, kill, and get out with as little physical contact as possible. Run if you have to.”
I shook out my arms and legs. “How do I access it?”
“How do you spit?” He waved off my grimace. “I’m serious. You spit saliva. You spit electricity. Both come from inside you. What do you do when you want to spit?”
I braced for some snarky comment from Rohan but he watched Baruch with a fascinated expression. “Okay, well.” I took myself through the motions. “First, I tense up my jaw. To activate the saliva.”
“Good. Then what’s the power equivalent of that action? Close your eyes. Visualize. Where is your power?”
I did as I was told, eyes closed. “It’s like there’s a switch.”
“Touch the spot.” That was Rohan in a silky rumble, who now stood beside me. “Where do you envision it?”
Oh, Lordy. What I was actually envisioning right now? Very different from what Rohan intended. My eyes snapped open and I pushed him back. He didn’t go anywhere so I stepped away from him. “Begone, irritant.”
The look he shot me from under his eyelashes, full of wicked heat, made my mouth flood with saliva. I swallowed hard.
Baruch tsked at him. “Stop toying with her.”
“I’m not toying. I’m deliberately distracting. Seeing if she can multitask.” He smiled innocently at me. “I can’t help it if she finds me irresistible.”
“Oh, I find you something, all right,” I growled, my hands out to throttle him. My fingertips sparked.
“Freeze,” Rohan commanded in a steely voice.
“Anger,” Baruch said. “Not fear. That’s what turns you on.”
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 7
