by Nick Freo
“You better shove your halo up your ass because I’m going to go to that hotel, I’m going to find out what happened to Kyle’s father, Kyle is going to fuck me like the apocalypse is coming, and you’re going to shit out—”
“Lilah,” I cut in, grabbing my shirt and jacket. “Just get dressed. Cara and I are going to find a way to get there. Cara, did you find a garage while you were looking around?”
“You didn’t notice when you walked in?”
I pulled on my shirt. “Mr. Gray used magic for us to get inside.”
She nodded. “Yes, the garage is on the west side. There was an iron door leading out of the sunroom. I’d bet it leads to the garage.”
Lilah grabbed her shirt and yanked it on. The left side of it was tucked in her underwear. I pulled it out. She grabbed my hand, smiling up at me. God, her lipstick had smeared, but she just looked more overwhelming in the best way. She was like an ocean wave, right before it was about to drown me.
“Let’s go find us a Hummer. A Maserati or a Jaguar wouldn’t be bad either.”
Or a nice red Ferrari. Or a Mercedes-Benz A-Class.
I took the gun holster off, setting it down on the armchair.
“Feeling fully loaded?” Lilah teased.
“I know it won’t do any good,” I said. I slid on my jacket. “Besides, I have the hellfire now.”
She looped her arm around mine. “That’s right. You’re all hot shit now.”
Cara moved past us, a chill spreading under my skin for a split second. She guided us down the stairs. After the first few steps, Lilah released my hand, touching her own skin again like it felt brand new to her.
We passed by more rooms I’d never seen, most of them resembling storage units. The sunroom was filled with exotic plants, which I’m certain were beautiful at one point, but they were now leafless, brown, and dead. As Cara opened the iron door—which seemed twice as large as it needed to be—I prepared myself to be pissed about all the money my father had wasted on world class cars instead of, you know, supporting his family.
The garage was massive—it resembled a small factory more than a garage with various machinery along the edges and tools hanging up above them. Yet, in the center, where at least a dozen cars could have fit, there was only one.
“Well,” Lilah said, leaning up against me. “I mean, at least we can pretend we’re the FBI.”
The black BMW SUV significantly resembled police procedurals’ nondescript black SUV except that there was some erosion around the fenders and bumper.
“It’ll work,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be certain about that.” Lilah shrugged. “Still. Shotgun.”
Cara stepped forward quickly, blocking Lilah from the SUV. “Wait. You’ve been with Kyle this whole time. I’ve barely gotten to know him. I should get the passenger seat.”
“You should find a dick to ride, because I’m riding in the passenger seat and I don’t care what you want,” Lilah retorted, charging forward. Cara grabbed her arm, yanking her back. The garage dropped several degrees.
“How fast do you think you can get that hellfire out of your hands?” Cara hissed. “Is it faster than I can throw you into this cement floor?”
“Cara,” I called out. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
She glanced at me before nodding. She kept her eyes on Lilah for a second longer before joining me in the southwest corner of the garage, near a hydraulic jack and a milling machine.
“I think it’s better if Lilah is in the passenger seat. You’re the only one with healing powers—this way, you’ll be more protected and able to help us later. And if we need to attack, she’ll be more useful in the front.”
“She can’t be trusted,” Cara said.
“So, you’d prefer to have her behind you?” I asked. “You can keep an eye on her while you’re behind her. You can’t do that if she’s behind you.”
We both looked over at Lilah. She was cleaning underneath her nails with a box cutter.
“You’re right, of course,” Cara said. “But you owe me. It’s not in my nature to yield to demons.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey!”
We both turned. Lilah was already in the passenger seat, the door wide open.
“The key is already in here!” she called out. “Let’s get going. I wanna get some breakfast before the diners close.”
Cara folded her arms over her chest but walked over to the BMW. I followed her, getting in with the sinking feeling that I was entering a confined metal box with an angel and a demon. It could be better. It could be worse. It could end with all of us dead in a ditch.
The drive was mostly filled with Lilah creating a mind-blowing number of new sexual innuendos, Cara sighing loudly, and me, trying to not run over every idiotic driver that insisted on tailgating me or every pedestrian that ran straight across the middle of the road. Clearly, the BMW didn’t look as much like an FBI vehicle as Lilah thought, or else people would consider obeying the law.
Of course, I didn’t report a murder. Or my father’s death at all. I didn’t report a supernatural figure trying to murder me. And I slept with a demon. So, when it came to moral judgments, I shouldn’t be the first in line to point fingers.
Cara gave instructions throughout the drive, but as we got closer, she leaned forward, her chin propped up on the back of my seat. Her vanilla and sugar cookie scent rippled over me, and when her fingertips pressed up against my arm, it was hard to concentrate on the road.
“That’s it. The tall white building up ahead. There’s a parking spot right here. We can walk the rest of the way. There’s a boutique across the road, so I’m certain there are no spaces nearby.”
The hotel stood out against the grim, dark colors of the rest of the city. It was dome-shaped, almost like a smooth igloo, with most of the walls made out of glass. When I parked the car, I could only see the roof of the building and a thick layer of snow on top of it. The rest of the buildings either had a thin layer of snow or no snow at all on their roofs.
“It must be well-insulated,” I said. “Heat’s not escaping from inside.”
“Well, that must be nice for Serena.” Lilah shoved open her door.
“I would have thought a hotel would have a lot more floors.”
She jumped out of the car. “There’s nothing rich, bitchy people love more than a limited supply. A small hotel with a limited supply of rooms is their wet dream.”
I followed her out of the BMW. Cara hustled to walk beside me. Lilah wrapped her arm around mine.
“You know they’re not going to like the way you’re dressed Lilah,” Cara said. “You could have put on some pants.”
“I mean, I could have, definitely,” Lilah agreed. “But then you wouldn’t be able to see my ass when you blow smoke up it.”
Cara looked at me like she expected me to intervene. When I didn’t, she picked up her pace to walk in front of us.
I wasn’t certain of my chances of preventing a war between Heaven and Hell, but the possibility of starting one was starting to feel more likely.
When we entered the hotel lobby, it didn’t feel like it was well-insulated. At first, I thought the hotel must be abusing the air conditioning controls, but then I saw how the hotel concierge was looking at me. The front desk woman was scowling. A doorman’s shoulders stiffened when he saw me, but he didn’t look at me again. A housekeeper’s nose scrunched up, and she shook her head, turning around to walk away from us.
Cara walked straight up to the woman working at the front desk.
“We’re here on Arbiter business,” she said. “We need to speak to Serena Foster. Can you direct us to her, please?”
“Arbiter business?” the woman glanced at Lilah and me.
“Yes,” Cara said. She turned to me. “He's been commissioned to serve the Arbiter. Show her the mark.”
I raised my right palm and mouth the words silently. I am the Arbiter.
The woman's eyebrows rose at the symbol appearing
on my hand.
“Where is Serena Foster?” Cara prompted again.
“The elevator,” the woman said, sliding over a plastic keycard. “Just put this in the lock.”
Cara nodded, taking the keycard. Lilah and I followed her to the elevator. Lilah kept looking behind her, her body coiled and ready to explode. Heat radiated off Lilah with enough intensity that I had to take a step away from her.
When we stepped into the elevator, there were no buttons or any indication of floor numbers. There was only a triangle screen with the image of an eye staring at us. The doors closed.
“Why the fuck is that eye staring at us?” Lilah said. She turned to Cara. “Those were angels. Are you trying to fuck with us? Are you gonna start a war right now? Because I will goddamn ruin you.”
Cara shook her head. “I have no idea what’s going on. Angels have bases all over. I didn’t know this was one of them.”
“Cara, where’s the keycard?” I asked.
Cara handed it to me. It felt like a boiler room on one side of me and a refrigeration unit on the other. The faster I got us out of this elevator, the happier we’d all be. And, maybe, we’d come out alive.
I waved the keycard in front of the eye. It blinked once and returned to staring. I held up the card to the screen. There were three beeps, and the elevator lurched down.
Down.
I lowered the card. The eye had disappeared, but it had been replaced by swiftly decreasing numbers. -4, -5, -6, -7, -8, -9, -10.
We kept going down. Cara wrapped her arms around my arm, her chill almost reassuring as we were plunged further into a strange architectural feat. Lilah didn’t seem to even notice Cara’s movement. Her eyes were focused on the elevator doors. She was slightly crouched down like she was going to pounce on the first thing she saw when the doors opened. It didn’t seem like half a bad idea.
My ears popped at minus twenty-three.
The elevator lurched to a stop at minus thirty. As the elevator doors opened, a million thoughts popped in my head—underground lairs, that we’d entered Hell, that if they had dug far enough, we could indeed end up in China.
Instead, there was a man in a black shirt, black pants, and a suit jacket standing in front of a long, metal hallway. Cara, Lilah, and I managed to step out of the elevator, but couldn’t get a second step away from it because the man was blocking the way. An iciness rolled off his body that was difficult to ignore. It was also difficult to ignore that he was at least six and a half feet tall.
The guard didn’t look at me, his attention quickly landing on Cara.
“What are you doing with these two?” he asked her. “You should know better. They’re not welcome.”
“We’re here on Arbiter business,” I said. “We need to find—”
“You can speak when somebody is asking you a question,” the man cut me off. He scowled, his head shifting slightly to look back at Cara. “Miss, you are an angel. These are not the types of individuals we associate with. If Michael knew—”
“Michael knows,” I interrupted. “This is important Arbiter business. We’re looking for Serena Foster.”
If it was cold before, it was arctic now. The man turned so quickly toward me, I took a step back. His hand lunged forward. I dodged it, but his other fist came fast. It hit me in the ribs and I stumbled backward.
“10-33!” the man yelled. “Intruders! 10-33!”
As I prepared to hit the man, fury taking over me like a brewing storm, a flash of red and black flew past me. I watched the flames slam into the guard. He frantically slapped at his burning jacket, but I could still smell the burning flesh and sulfur.
Three men—two that were similar in build to the first man and the third one built like a cannonball—came running down the hallway.
“Lilah, don’t,” Cara said as Lilah prepared to form more fire.
“Fuck you,” Lilah spat back. “If you want to side with them—”
“I’m not. If you escalate—”
“Stand back, Kyle,” Lilah ordered. “We’re about to deep fry some angel wings.”
The three men reached us with stunning speed. One of them grabbed me, but this time I was ready. I wrenched his arm back, strength pulsating in my body. He screamed. In my periphery, I could see one of the men desperately trying to pat out a growing fire on his arm while the third one had managed to pin Lilah to the wall.
As I was distracted, the man whose arm I must have broken managed to twist away from me. His fist hit me in the temple so hard that bursts of black flashed in my vision. He hit me again, his fist driving into my abdomen. Rage destroyed any thought in my head. I shoved him back, giving myself enough space to launch my fist forward.
Before all of this angel and demon bullshit, I was a good fighter. I had to be when I grew up in a poor neighborhood in this city. It was the kind of situation where you had to give a beatdown to some big kid or end up a target until you left the area. But now, when I hit this asshole, his head lurched to the right so fast that it was the first part of him that hit the floor.
“Stop!” Cara yelled, grabbing the shortest man. He shook her off easily before heading toward me. I barely managed to create a burst of hellfire, but it was enough to scrape across his face and force him to his knees while I dealt with the other man on the floor.
The man grabbed at my ankle. I lunged downward, my fist colliding against his ribs. I heard a snapping sound, but he didn’t let me go, so I hit him again. This time, there was a definite crack. I looked up to see the first man running down the hall before a rush of heat flung past me. The hellfire slammed into his back. The screaming echoed.
I turned to check everyone else’s status. Lilah was standing over one of the men, seemingly deciding how badly she wanted to hurt him. She only had a bruise on her cheek. The other man was holding onto his shoulder, his eyes closed. The stench of sulfur filled the air.
“Kyle,” Cara said, her voice nearly trembling. I looked up, but she was looking down the hallway. A group of seven women were approaching. Or at least, I could tell a few of them were women, but all seven of them were wearing cloaks with the hood pulled up. Cara’s voice became more urgent. “Kyle. We need to go.”
Their voices were all in unison as they spoke. They were chanting, their voices rising and falling, their emphasis on certain syllables all in sync with each other.
“Kyle.” Cara stopped. She stepped over the man with the broken rib and moved toward the five women. When she spoke to them, her voice was soft and docile. “This is all a misunderstanding. We’re not a threat. We are asking your permission to leave. We won’t disrupt you again.”
The one woman in front of the six others lowered her hood. Her dark hair curved around her neck. “We will grant your request, but only because of your standing amongst the angels. And you must do it now.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Cara turned toward me, grabbing my arm. I didn’t move. I stared at the seven women.
“We’re looking for Serena Foster. Do you know where she is?”
“The request was granted on the belief that you would leave immediately,” the woman said to Cara, not looking at me. “Do you rescind your request? If so, we will have no option but to use our powers to enforce our security.”
“No, we absolutely do not rescind our request. He’s new to all of this.”
More forcefully this time, Cara yanked me toward the elevator. To my surprise, Lilah followed us without a word. When we were all back in the elevator, I pulled the keycard out and showed it to the eye, which was back on the screen. As the doors began to close, I could see the seven women turning around, walking back down the hallway. Even their stride was in sync.
After the doors clicked shut, I turned toward Cara.
“What the fuck was that about?” I asked. “They could have known about Serena. I bet they did know about her.”
“Cara was saving your ass,” Lilah said. I twisted around, nearly breaking my neck at Lila
h’s defense of Cara. She shrugged. “It’s just the truth. It’s foolish to face a coven in its seat of power. Not only are they powerful as hell, but they’re cranky. They form covens for a reason. And that reason is that one witch is a nightmare. A whole group of them is a harsh, harsh reality.”
Lilah patted my cheek before turning around to look at her blurry reflection on the steel wall. She ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to us.
“I’m calling shotgun again.”
Chapter 10
When we reached the ground floor of the hotel and evacuated the elevator, I bumped into a housekeeper.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, helping her upright. The woman jerked away. A chill passed through me. I looked up. Three staff members behind the front desk had their eyes locked on us. The doormen took a step toward us, his jaw clenched. A man in a suit tightened his grip on a suitcase, his eyes narrowed.
Cara kept her body between us and the hotel staff as we walked out the front door. We moved as quickly as we could to the BMW. I had never been more grateful to see a BMW in my life.
I jumped into the driver’s seat while Lilah slid into the passenger side. Cara got into the backseat without any complaints or accusations.
“Wow,” I muttered. “I’m not going to be giving them good reviews.”
As I turned the key, I heard yelling. We all turned to see two men in white security uniforms standing in front of a scrappy-looking guy. He could have been around my age, but it was hard to tell because he was wearing clothes that were too big for him, including a bomber jacket and baggy jeans, and he was covered in tattoos—including a neck tattoo that climbed up to his cheek and formed a trident—which made it hard to see any sign of age on his skin. But, if I had to make an assumption, I would have said the two massive gold chains around his neck and the large gold ring that appeared to depict a middle finger indicated he wasn’t older than thirty.
“Get going!” one of the security men yelled as the other pointed in the opposite direction the man was heading.
“Fuck off!” the man yelled. As he kept walking, I realized he was striding toward our BMW.
