“They suspected that they were being watched,” Drio said. “So, they’re staying with a witch friend of theirs.”
Shivani. I relaxed.
Before we were allowed to go to see our parents, Baruch insisted that I take them back to the warehouse where I’d been held. His reasoning was that this was the perfect time to get the jump on the rabbi. He must have seen that the idea made me highly uncomfortable because he said I didn’t have to go in, but I said I would. With all my friends surrounding me, maybe that place of horrors would be reduced to just a place.
We waited for Ro to finish up his call and Kane to wash off the poison.
“How’d it go?” I said to Rohan once he’d returned.
“Mom and I fought. I told her I wasn’t going to tour with the new album, just have the release party on Asha’s birthday.”
“Uh, she does understand you have a few things on your plate, right?”
“She wants me to stop being Rasha and concentrate on my music.” Rohan flexed his fingers, studying his hamsa ring. “She said that all Asha wanted was for me to play music and be happy and now I had second chances at both. If I threw this away to hunt demons, I’d be dishonoring my cousin’s memory. I mean, fuck, how could she say that?”
“She’s scared she’s going to lose you. I’m not excusing it.”
“I’m a hunter.” Dark magic danced along his palms. He stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I get she’s my mom and me being missing must have been awful for her, but that doesn’t excuse dumping this guilt trip on me.”
“You’re right. Will the album be done by September 27?”
“It has to be. I’m keeping this promise to Asha.”
Music had incredible restorative power. Dance and music had gotten me through many challenging times. Writing music had brought Rohan out of the darkness before, and it could speed up his healing now. Calling attention to the dark magic might make Ro feel worse and compound the problem, but I’d never met a piece of advice I didn’t want to share.
“Working on your music might help with that as well.” I nodded at his hands still jammed away in his pockets.
Rohan pulled his hands free. The dark magic was gone, but doubt and fear still lurked in his eyes. “Yeah.” He pulled himself up straight, back in deadly hunter mode. “Let’s get the rabbi.”
I portalled everyone except Ms. Clara to Mandelbaum’s lair.
The rabbi and his group had moved out.
None of the men said much as we cleared each room, but they got especially silent when I stopped in front of the place where I’d been held captive.
Rohan went to open the door for me, but Drio nudged him out of the way.
“You need to do this,” he said.
Baruch put his hand on my shoulder, which gave me the courage to turn the knob.
Other than the Tomb, which was gone, the room was exactly as I’d left it. My magic surged out of me. I whirled in a shrieking fury, obliterating everything in there, blowing up machines, decimating the dingy mattress I’d slept on, and melting and twisting that damn metal table.
Mandelbaum would never get the jump on me again.
I stood in the wreckage, fists balled, and wondered why even with all my power, I didn’t feel any better. I mustered up a smile. “The worst part was staring at that paint job.”
Ro stepped in closer to me, darkness once more slithering in his eyes. “His decorating tastes are punishable by death in at least three states.”
“Right?” I leaned against my boyfriend.
“We’ll find him,” Kane said. “I’ll follow the money. Same with Sienna. She’s feeding those Rasha. There’s bound to be records of supplies. We’ll start with cities where there are already chapter houses.”
Baruch cracked his knuckles. “There are always demons to interrogate.”
Ari crouched down to examine a bloodstain on one of the few remaining pieces of mattress.
I swallowed and held his gaze, dropping my arm from where I’d been rubbing the now-healed wound on my side.
“You gonna tell me what happened to you?” Ari got dangerously still.
“Not rape.”
“Just regular torture,” he said flatly.
“It wasn’t pretty, but there are some things I don’t want you to know.”
“I’m going to kill him.” That Ari could so matter-of-factly utter this vow about the man who had led the organization that my brother had dedicated his life to, was both terrifying and sad.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Get in line, bro. Get in line.”
Chapter 8
My mom opened the door, took one look at Ari and me, pulled us both into a fierce hug, and burst into tears. The last time she’d cried had been at our bubbe’s funeral four years ago.
“Shana? What’s happened?” Dad pounded down the stairs, skidding to a stop when he saw our huddled group. He threw his arms around all of us, saying, “Oh, thank God,” over and over again.
Rohan stood awkwardly in the foyer.
Dad opened his arms. “Come here, son.”
We all shuffled around to include Ro. Part of me wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was, but most of me was too fucking happy that we were enveloped in a cloud of Mom’s Chanel No. 5 with Dad’s graying stubble scratching my cheek.
Mom insisted on feeding us all, ordering a week’s worth of our favorite Chinese food.
Ari and I sat on either side of Mom, each of us holding one of her hands. I’d changed out of my tunic into a cute blue sundress with pockets. Ro was to my right, with Dad across the table.
A stupid pile of food sat in the center. Ginger beef, spicy squid, Szechuan green beans, gai lan in a garlic sauce, lettuce wraps, deep fried tofu, shredded spicy pork and spinach, shrimp fried rice, and Shanghai noodles—we did our damnedest to decimate it all.
Our parents pressed us for what we’d been through, but although Ari and I gave them heavily edited versions, they seemed to age before our eyes. Mom kept twisting her wedding ring around her finger, while our father emitted a series of harsh exhales that grew louder as we told our tale.
When our eyes had glazed over from the amount we’d eaten, and Rohan had resorted to covering his plate so my mother couldn’t empty more food onto it, Mom reluctantly declared we’d had enough.
We filed into her home office. Ari, Rohan, and I squished onto her sofa, while she sat at her desk and booted up her MacBook.
I told her everything that Mandelbaum had said.
Mom muttered things like “This is bad” and “He’s a lunatic” until I couldn’t take it anymore and demanded she explain.
“Have you ever heard of the End of Days?” she said.
We all shook our heads.
“I was extremely remiss on your Jewish education.”
“Mom.” Ari crossed his arms. “Stick with the topic.”
She tapped a pen against her thigh. “Okay. Let me back up. Back in the Middle Ages, there was a famous rabbi and Torah scholar called Maimonides. One of his principles of Jewish faith was that one day there would arise a dynamic leader.”
“Like Jesus? A messiah?” Ro asked.
“Yes, but not in the Christian sense of a savior. The Jewish messiah is called the Mashiach. He would be a direct descendent of King David. According to Isaiah 11:2-5, he’ll be well-versed in Jewish law and observant of its commandments. He’ll be charismatic, inspiring others to follow his example, be a great military leader, and a great judge. But most importantly, he’ll be a human, not a god, demi-god or any other supernatural being.”
“We’ve got Mandelbaum, a rabbi who leads a military organization,” Ro said. “Even though he’s not Rasha, he is a descendent of David. And very proud of that fact.”
“He can’t be the only one who fits that criteria,” Ari said. “And why now?”
“It’s not just now,” Mom said. “Supposedly a person with that potential is born every generation. But the messianic age demands certain conditions. The potenti
al must be born in a time that has lost hope, where many are disgusted with the breakdown of ethical and moral standards. Life is cheap, crime is rampant, drug and alcohol use are on the rise. Sound familiar?”
“Fuck.” I grimaced. “Sorry, Mom.”
She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “To truly become the Mashiach, this person must fulfill a number of tasks. They must rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem, that would be the Third Temple, and gather Jews from all over the world. Nava, you said he had permission from the planning council to start building the Temple. That takes time. He’s been working on this for a while.”
“Seven years,” I said. “How do the rabbis fit into it?”
“Ah.” Mom put on her reading glasses and consulted her computer. “Right. The Mashiach will re-establish the Sanhedrin. That’s the council of high rabbis. They’re the religious supreme court and legislature of the Jewish people.” She read off her screen. “‘I will restore your judges as at first, and your counselors as in the beginning, afterward you will be called the City of Righteousness, the faithful city. Zion shall be redeemed with justice, and those who return to her, with righteousness.’ That’s from Isaiah 1:26-27. The Sanhedrin would be able to formally recognize the Mashiach as the King. In fact, all nations of the world will recognize him as their king and accept his rule.”
I traced the floral pattern on the sofa cushion with my finger. “What’s in it for everyone else?”
“World peace, no more wars, no more famine, and a better standard of living across the board,” Mom said. “Jews have been praying for the Mashiach’s arrival throughout history. Even at the gates of the gas chambers, many Jews sang ‘Ani Ma’amin’ which translates as ‘I believe.’ It’s a song about the coming of the Mashiach.’”
“What’s the cost of this great messiah?” Ro asked.
Mom rolled her chair over to her bookshelf. She pulled out a slim volume and flipped through it. “The End of Days.”
“That sounds delightful.” I picked up a pencil and sticky pad off the corner of my mother’s desk and drew little rabbi stick figures with X’s through them.
“Before this new age is introduced,” Mom said, “the world will experience vast economic fluctuations, social upheaval, and widespread despair. It’ll culminate with the opening of the Gates of Alexander and the release of the most terrifying demons Gog and Magog.”
“Do you know anything about the Ring of Solomon?” I added horns to the rabbis. The resulting drawing reminded me of my hallucination while I’d been strapped to the table, so I scribbled it out.
Mom typed in a URL and brought up an academic webpage. “Given to Solomon by God, it featured a hexagram.”
“A Star of David,” Ari said.
“Correct. Made of iron or brass, the ring gave Solomon the power to command demons.”
Ugh. Sienna was right again.
“That’s one way to get all the global powers to agree to his kingliness,” I said. “Command demons to attack and be the only hope of stopping them.”
Ari whistled. “You think that was his ultimate aim? Bind this Gog and Magog and then send in the Brotherhood?”
“If that was his plan,” Mom said, “he’s perverted the entire notion of the Mashiach. It wasn’t to rule the world and dominate non-Jews, it was actually to create a world where Jews would be free to involve themselves with the Torah and its wisdom without other concerns.”
“Could demons use it on each other?” Rohan said. “Is that why Hybris wanted it?”
“If it really does exist as some kind of sacred amulet, then no,” my mother said. “The demons would be the target of a ring that was given to a human. Therefore, they’re exempt from using it.”
“Finally,” Rohan said. “A piece of good news.”
Mom clicked on to the next webpage. “Oh. This is interesting. The archangel Michael gets involved. ‘Take this ring, O Solomon King, son of David, the gift which the Lord God hath sent unto thee. Wear this ring and all the demons of the earth, both male and female, thou wilt command.’”
My vision blurred red, my internal fire flaring hot and fast.
I snapped the pencil.
Mom looked alarmed.
“Give me a minute.” I closed my eyes to sort through what could have set me off. “Lilith had some connection to this ring and Mandelbaum was convinced she’d stolen it. Is there anything about her possessing the ring on the website?”
My headache broke through the effects of the Tylenol. I massaged my temples, but my scalp was too tender to be touched.
“No.” Mom flipped through her overflowing Rolodex on her desk. “I have a colleague. Semi-retired, but if I ask he’ll speak with you. Let me call him and arrange a meeting. If anyone can give you answers about the ring, it’ll be Josip. Dr. Markovic.”
“Thanks, Mom.” As soon as I had some free time, I was using up every single massage therapy session I’d accumulated up until now. I opened my mother’s desk drawer. Sure enough, there was a bottle of aspirin. I helped myself to some pills. “You know, Mandelbaum likened his plan to a phoenix. He absolutely wants to become the literal ruler of the world. The phoenix isn’t reborn without fire, and the world isn’t remade without death and destruction. He’s ushering in an apocalypse.”
Ari scrolled through his phone. “There are a few possible places for the Gates of Alexander. Central Asia, Dagestan in Russia.”
“Conjecture,” Mom said. “There are no literal gates. These demons are believed to be either Turkic tribes that Alexander encountered or Mongols.”
“But demons exist and these gates might as well,” Ro said. “Shana, any idea what kind of timeline we might be looking at?”
“If we assume that he wants to pull this off as soon as possible?” Mom consulted another book. “Rosh Hashanah. The Mashiach’s coming is signaled by two things, the occasion when all souls will be judged for their last time and a tremendous shofar blast that will be heard around the world.”
“Judgment and the shofar, two hallmarks of Rosh Hashanah.” I checked this year’s date on my phone. The evening of September 18. “That gives us a month. If that rift opens on top of everything before then, the legion of demons who enter our world will make Mandelbaum’s position stronger.”
“Provided he can control them,” Rohan said. “Otherwise, even if we’ve freed the rest of the Rasha and we all fight, we’ll be sorely outnumbered.”
“Mandelbaum is an evil psychopath,” I said.
“No, he’s a man who believes he’s ushering in a better world.” Mom shelved the books she’d used. “That noble purpose makes him especially dangerous. Don’t dismiss him.”
“Yeah, Sparky. You’re always going on about shades of gray.”
“Fine. There are good points in both Mandelbaum’s and Sienna’s visions of a better future, but his is a misogynist dictatorship that could wipe out half the world and Sienna’s is a man-hating cabal. We need to ensure that neither of them ends up with ultimate power. I’m tired of everyone and their narrow-minded thinking.”
“That’s very ‘my way or the highway’ of you,” Ari said.
“Well, everyone else is stupid. Present company excepted.”
Mom promised to let me know when I could meet with Dr. Markovic and we headed outside to the car Ari and I shared.
A grizzled gardener next door trimmed Mrs. Jepson’s prized rhododendron bush.
“Hang on. I need my sunglasses.” I fumbled in my purse, raising my eyebrows at my brother.
“Military,” Ari murmured.
I sauntered up to the gardener, asking when Mrs. Jepson would be back.
“No idea.” He clipped another branch, giving it a lopsided appearance.
I clapped him on a very well-defined shoulder. “Mrs. Jepson never lets anyone trim her rhodos.”
He slapped my hand off of him, but Ro and Ari were instantly at my side.
Ro jammed a finger blade into the gardener’s neck, grabbing a gun from the small of the man�
��s back before the man could retrieve it.
Ari drew magic from the bush’s shadow to bind the man’s hands. “A pistol against three Rasha with magic. Were you not expecting all of us or—” His head snapped up and he knocked us sideways onto the ground.
A bullet ripped into the rhodo sending up a shower of shredded petals.
“Jepson is going to be so pissed,” I said.
My brother shadow-transported all of us into the backyard. “Stay low.”
While Ari scouted for the sniper, Ro and I peppered the gardener with questions. His stoic silence was unsurprising. Mercenaries didn’t tend to break easily.
I gripped his shoulders intending to inflict a quick memory loss on him. Generally, the memories involving me appeared as hot spots in the target’s mind. I erased them without knowing their exact contents, but this time, I probed, tracking the conversation Mandelbaum had had with this mercenary. It had occurred in the same baby-poo yellow, pockmarked concrete hallway where I’d been held captive.
“You bugged my parents’ home?” I said.
The mercenary spasmed in my magic net and his face turned a florid red. “Stay out of the rabbi’s business. Wouldn’t want that hot mom of yours to get hurt.”
I rendered him unconscious. Alrighty. Three on the magic scale was knock out territory on humans. “We need to move my parents.”
Ari staggered out of the shadows, dragging a limp body. The newcomer was bleeding from the head. Red blossomed across Ari’s shirt. He tossed a pistol with a silencer to Ro, wheezed in a breath, and fell face down on the grass.
“Ace!” I dropped to my knees, sending healing magic into him. There was an exit wound on his back so the bullet wasn’t lodged inside him, but he wasn’t breathing.
Esther’s lifeless body flashed before my eyes. There was less magic in the world available for healing than ever before, and if I couldn’t get enough to heal Esther, what chance did I have to heal Ari?
I increased my magic, but Ari didn’t stir.
Ro nudged me aside and I almost decked him. He rolled Ari over carefully. “Keep up the magic, but let me do mouth-to-mouth.”
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 154
