“Pretty.” Azazel’s voice drew Michael’s attention. The demon appeared in front of him. “That worked better than I thought.”
Rage filled Michael. He was done asking for surrender. No angel or demon had the right to destroy life without an order from Him. Senseless execution was unforgiveable. Fury destroyed the mental center he’d found. He extended his energy, binding Azazel to the earthly plane, and grabbed his wrist. Michael reached inside the demon and yanked out two... correction, three—that explained the blast—distinct entities. It only took a flick of his mind to send two back to heaven and twist Azazel out of existence. With the demon gone, his body ceased to be as well.
Rob and Carl were merely acquaintances, but the loss of human life, especially as a result of his actions, even if indirect, ached through every inch of him—physical and ethereal. Michael dropped to one knee, exhaustion and grief roaring inside.
A LOT OF PEOPLE—AGENTS and humans—would kill for a job like Ronnie’s. Most of them not literally, though Gabe probably had in order to keep it. She should be grateful. Act professional. Feel fortunate to be in such a position.
She adjusted her weight in her seat, trying not to let it look like fidgeting, and kept her smile pasted in place. This was high on her list of things she never wanted to do, even on the best of days. Today, she wanted to be groveling for Irdu’s forgiveness. Comforting Izzy and making sure he was all right.
Putting her own life back on track.
Instead, she was kissing SEC ass.
Mr. Gimbel—he refused to give a first name—sat across from her, firing off questions about her recent rise to the position of Chief Operations Officer. When he trailed his gaze over her for the bazillionth time, the lust he radiated felt like slime over her breasts. “We don’t usually see people of your... With your... Who have such limited business experiences slide into a position like this.”
She was grateful she wore the suit coat and slacks, and left the camisole and skirt she would have preferred in the closet. This guy made a cherub hopped up on sensory addiction seem tame. At least with a cherub, she wouldn’t have felt the associated emotion.
“Ubiquity has a unique policy when it comes to advancement,” she said. “As long as someone demonstrates they can do the job, through actions and knowledge, they shouldn’t be passed over because of seniority or lack thereof.”
“I see.” He made a note on his tablet. “And what kind of experience and actions have you demonstrated?”
Could she deck him and claim it was an accident? When Lucifer told her the company wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, he’d understated things. No one here had any history. They all had paperwork and legal documentation, which made tax time easier, but when it came to investigating their past, there were no previous jobs or places of residence. She couldn’t fathom how someone had overlooked that, but apparently either Lucifer or Gabe—whoever was in charge of that detail—did.
It wouldn’t matter on a normal day. It was an issue when the SEC wanted to know why she’d only been with the company for six months as a Data Analyst—what Reapers were called on paper—and nowhere before this, and then achieved a top-ranking position.
She fought the urge to tell Mr. Gimbel she was older than the continental divide, rather than the twenty-three years her birth certificate claimed. He’d laugh at her, but that didn’t matter. If he believed her, it’d lead to an entirely new set of problems, like having to explain why the angels and demons here had falsified documents. All of them.
Someone knocked, and she swallowed her sigh of relief. “Yes?” She used her sweetest voice.
Tia stuck her head into the room. “We have an emergency.”
“Can someone else handle it?” Ronnie hoped not. This was better than an excuse to leave. It was a chance to talk to Tia and at least get one person to hear her out. “Mr. Gimbel and I are in the middle of an important conversation.”
“I’m afraid not. This is something only you have the knowledge to address.”
Ronnie wanted to kiss Tia for the phrasing. She turned to her guest. “I apologize. We’ll have to pick this up later.”
“Of course.” Mr. Gimbel’s tone implied this was anything but acceptable. “Perhaps this afternoon. You understand my questions are critical as well.”
She never let her smile waver. “I do. It’s been a pleasure. I assume you can find your way to your next meeting?” She stood, and he followed suit and shook her hand when offered.
“I can.”
Ronnie almost let the door hit him in the ass when she locked it behind him. She nodded Tia toward the now empty chair across from her desk. “I owe you lunch. Your choice.”
Tia’s worried expression eased a little. “I’ll hold you to it. This really is critical, though.”
“That’s fine. Anything’s better than him.”
Tia cringed. “You say that...” Instead of taking a seat, she hovered at Ronnie’s computer. “May I?”
Ronnie nodded.
Tia typed a phrase into the browser, and then clicked Play on a U-View video. Despite there being no sound, Ronnie swore she could hear the rush of water crashing over the single warehouse, in what she knew from yesterday’s experience was Boston.
“Holy shit.” Ronnie dropped her voice. “Did you do that?”
Pink dotted Tia’s cheeks, and she ducked her head. “Yes.”
“Double shit.” Ronnie’s gut clenched and churned, as the implications sank in. First Irdu with the weapons, and now Tia with this kind of immense power and control over water... They were stronger than almost any natural-born agent. And the world could see the proof in Tia’s case. “This is on a public-facing... Why hasn’t this been taken down yet? We can’t have this kind of stuff out there.”
“I didn’t know who to talk to, so I came to you as soon as I found it. You know what happened, and I could have pulled it myself—” Tia snapped her jaw shut.
Ronnie was stunned to hear Tia had access to do that. U-View might be a child company, but it operated under independent management. Or as independent as was possible in a structure like this. Tia shouldn’t have access to yank videos. “We’ll talk about that in a minute.” Ronnie was already dialing a familiar extension.
“Not a good time.” Raphael’s irritation echoed over the speakerphone.
Ronnie rolled her eyes. He had been her boss before, and they’d never gotten along. They reached a tentative understanding when she promoted him to manage development and information technology at U-View, in that she understood he didn’t like her, and he understood she’d been promoted ahead of everyone else. Again. He didn’t seem to care much that she was an incarnation of an original angel.
She wasn’t in the mood for niceties. “You’ll make time for this. You’ve got a video on your site.” She rattled off the number in her address bar. “You’ll know what it is when you see it. It comes down now.”
“I don’t have—”
“Now.” Ronnie disconnected. She turned back to Tia. “What do you mean, you could have pulled it yourself?”
Tia moved to the other side of the desk, fiddling with her fingers. She didn’t sit. “I’ve been learning on my own, and...”
“And what?”
“There are a few security holes, so I gave myself access to the databases.”
Ronnie shouldn’t entertain the teensy hint of pride amid her concern. This was bad news. If Tia found the hole, someone else could. “You have to let us know about these things, so we can patch them.”
“I was going to. But I was having fun.”
“I won’t write you up this time.” Largely because Ronnie had so much guilt about what led up to the incident in the video. “But we also have to fix it.” She was already calling Raph back.
“It’s pulled.” Raphael’s irritation was almost tangible.
“This is about a different problem. I need you to assign me a developer to work directly with Tiamet.”
“That goofy little imp who u
sed to sit next to you? I liked her. She never made waves.”
Ronnie didn’t know which part of his comment bothered her the most. If she thought Raphael had a sense of humor, she’d wonder if he was trying to make a joke. “She’s in the room with me.”
Tia didn’t look fazed. “Hello.”
“You can’t have someone if you don’t tell me what it’s for,” Raph said.
Ronnie learned long ago that getting the job done drove him, but there were heavy doses of ego mixed in. It was a delicate line to walk. “Tia’s my best; you can spare someone who can keep up with her. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be the guy who plugged the security hole she found, than the person she had to step around to get it done?”
“We don’t have a security hole.”
“It’s a big one.” Tia sounded pleased.
“How do you know? You’re not development.”
Ronnie didn’t have time for this. It was like talking to Mr. Gimbel, minus the visual undressing. “We don’t do things that way anymore.”
“Right. Everyone there rises to their own level of incompetence instead.”
“Give me a developer, or I’ll pull rank.” Ronnie hated to play that card.
“Like that would be new.”
God. She wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him. “Yes or no?”
“Fine. I’ll send Tiamet a name and copy you. We’ll schedule something, but my person determines how much time this deserves, not yours.”
“Thank you.” Tia sounded more chipper than she should. Her grin implied she was looking forward to this and not terribly bothered by the tense conversation.
Ronnie disconnected again. “You’re too nice.”
“You used to be too.” Tia winced, and looked away.
Ronnie sank back in her chair. “About what happened in Boston. Not the video; I mean to you. I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t,” Tia said kindly. “You did what you thought was best, and I was the one who insisted on staying. Izzy though...”
Yeah. Everything with him was wrong. Ronnie had no idea where to start in making it right, especially since he wouldn’t talk to her. “I don’t know what to do. And Irdu is so angry too.”
Tia patted Ronnie’s hand. “You’ll make things right. I know you will. What I meant came out wrong. You’re still good and kind.”
“I know what you meant.” And that was the issue. Ronnie understood all too well this job was sucking from her the person she wanted to be. She was at Ubiquity to make a difference, but hadn’t expected to surrender her soul in the process.
Chapter Twelve
Michael phased in several blocks from Red Square but didn’t assume a physical form. The incident from two days ago haunted him. The fire. Lives lost with no motive he could see. Two sparks ended before they could become more.
Dwelling on that wouldn’t help him here, but he needed to keep it in mind. Abaddon’s request danced with the impression of an ashen shadow on the sidewalk, telling Michael to try this politely. Reminding him he lost control with Azazel, not only by letting him get away the first time, but also with Michael’s response to seeing him again. The execution was appropriate. His rage while delivering it wasn’t.
He scanned the rows of shops and people. Staying ethereal wouldn’t hide him from other agents. If he could see them, they could see him. But it removed the distractions of his senses and made it easier to spot an aura in the midst of the crowds. He didn’t know how Abaddon expected him to find someone with so few details. Or perhaps she didn’t.
His gaze landed on a rainbow of colors, bright and vivid compared to the surroundings his mind interpreted as visual. A ripple, like water over stained glass. He knew the demon. Vine was Abaddon’s equivalent in Hell. An assassin. A soldier. And old enough he’d been in heaven when Lucifer left and took a third of the agents with him. Vine was a force to be reckoned with, even without the cherub he held.
Michael solidified, and the rest of the world bled in around him. The chill combined with sunshine on his face. Blooming flowers, fragrant and blanketing their beds. The chatter of hundreds of voices vying to be heard.
Ronnie would love it here.
The abrupt thought, combined with the shock to his senses, jarred his thoughts. How long would it take before her memory was just another in the sea of billions? Until her name didn’t squeeze his lungs, and beautiful places didn’t summon thoughts of her laughing face?
He stashed the surge of longing, and headed for the table where Vine sat. Michael wouldn’t lose control here. Not again, and not in a public place. Was that why Abaddon suggested the location? To reinforce her idea of talking it out? Michael would have stuck to his word anyway. This was a negotiation. A conversation with an old acquaintance. No reason to risk lives.
Except for his aura, no one looking at Vine would think demon, going by cultural definitions. His hair was cropped short, and he stood about five foot five inches. The logo on his University sweatshirt was faded, obscuring the school name, and it hung off his thin, spindly frame. “I wondered if you’d show.” Vine stood and extended a handshake and smile.
Michael returned both, and they took their seats. The cold of the wrought iron bit through Michael’s clothes. He must be spending more time than usual in his ethereal form to notice so much about how his environment felt. “I am on a mission.”
“So I’ve heard.” Vine waved over the waiter. “Same thing for my friend.” His Russian was flawless. At least to Michael’s unpracticed ears. He hadn’t been there in several centuries.
They made small talk until the waiter returned and set a pirozhky drizzled with honey in front of Michael. Of course it would be sweets. It almost always was. Not that he was complaining.
“How’s life? Up to anything interesting, besides your mission?” Vine asked. He partially reclined in his seat, one ankle over the other knee, occasionally sipping his coffee or taking a bite of pastry.
Michael wasn’t in the mood to blather, but that was mostly the anxiety of the last few days crawling through him. “I do a bit of this and that.” Not so much of the that, with the garage and his latest restoration project gone. It would be a while before he was comfortable picking up a car project again. “How about you?”
“Life keeps me busy. I spend a lot of time inspiring people to follow their dreams.”
It sounded noble. All angels and demons were tasked with helping humanity grow and evolve as individuals. Hell’s definition of what that required was looser. “In other words, promoting rebellion?”
“Only when there’s no other option. To each their own, you know?”
Michael did know. “No matter who gets hurt?”
“People get hurt, regardless.” The shift in Vine’s posture was subtle. The way his spine straightened wasn’t as obvious as his aura growing brighter, indicating he drew on power from within. “They hurt each other. They get offended by anything that doesn’t agree with them. I’m not doing anything but helping people shed their inhibitions and realize those around them choose to be hurt. An individual can’t hold themselves responsible for how others react. They’d never improve if they did that.”
“Unless there’s physical pain involved.” Michael knew the argument. What sounded logical quickly fell apart in the hands of someone selfish or sadistic.
Vine shrugged. “Some people get off on that. But I know what you mean. It’s not as if I motivate people to go on killing sprees. There’s no personal growth in wholesale slaughter.” He focused on Michael, eyes narrowing, and icy blue streaking the light around him. Vine shifted his gaze to something behind Michael. “So glad you could join us, love.”
Michael felt the angel before he saw her. Her aura was jagged and fractured, pushing at the edges of his power, as if probing him for weakness. She wore chaos better than Azazel had. She took the seat next to Vine, and Michael’s tension skyrocketed. He didn’t know her, which wasn’t as odd as it should be. It meant Gabriel had trained and named her. G
abriel had done a lot of that over the past century.
Her appearance was a sharp contrast to Vine’s. Her curves were apparent in her black and violet corset and leggings, and she had her wings out. Another reason for Michael to be on edge. She wore them like a costume, but the flickers of purple racing over them said they were anything but an accessory.
“Cassiel, this is Michael.”
Her eyes grew wide, and she rested manicured nails in front of her lips. “Not the Michael.”
Michael tried to be subtle about reaching deep into the ether and calling his power. “The one and only.”
“He’s here to convince us to change our wicked ways and go back to serving.” Taunting seeped into Vine’s tone.
“We already serve,” Michael corrected him. “That’s what we were made for, and regardless of your methods, that’s what you do.”
“No.” Cassiel shook her head and laughed. “We don’t. It’s time humanity took on that role and paid homage to their creator.”
Michael extended his shields. As the force moved out, people stood to leave. Nothing like a mass exodus. One by one, diners agreed it was time to go. None of them was sure why, except it felt like the smart thing to do. “It doesn’t work that way,” Michael said.
Vine’s smile morphed into a sneer. “It will.”
This time, Michael was prepared when the energy around him shifted. He’d learned his lesson with Azazel. He cast out a second bubble of a shield, inside the previous one. Vine’s explosion collided with the invisible wall, which wrapped it up and snuffed it before it connected with the surrounding buildings. Before the blast of flame dissipated, Michael projected a third wave to keep Vine and Cassiel from drawing power from the air around them.
“Stalemate.” Vine chuckled.
He was right, but Michael wasn’t going to admit it out loud. This kind of display—redirecting people, stopping damage, and preventing his counterparts from accessing energy—took a force of will. Even an original had limits, and he was nearing his. Which led to his next problem. In order to strip Vine or Cassiel of their cherubs, he had to refocus and touch one of them long enough to perform the exorcism. Those precious seconds would be all it took for the other to attack Michael, or worse, the surrounding city.
Soul Betrayer Page 10
