by Tamar Sloan
Arielle’s eyes sting with the promise of fresh tears. Those work trips suddenly take on a new meaning. Was her academic life little more than a facade for her occult research?
How much has her mother hidden from her?
Arielle bites her lip. Of course her mother protected her from this. Arielle is so naive she never noticed a thing. Never questioned her mother’s obsession with history and the Middle East.
Arielle’s cousin is an angel. Her mother is someone who has dedicated her life to understanding the supernatural. Aunt Shell…Arielle realizes she hasn’t even asked if she’s more than human, too.
Maybe her mother suspected that Arielle couldn’t handle any of this.
Right now, it feels like she’d be right to think that.
Look closer…
“A clichéd pep talk isn't going to help, Trinity.”
If she looks inside, all she’s going to find is a lost, scared, unexceptional girl.
Arielle’s eyes flood with moisture and the blues and yellows of the tiles blur. A tear escapes and it’s barely made it to her cheek before she dashes it away with a frustrated swipe. She may be clueless, but she refuses to fall apart.
The tiles come back into focus and Arielle stares at them with renewed energy. She knows she’s being ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. If she can hold onto this, then maybe she can hold onto hope.
She frowns. A tile in the center is ever so slightly raised.
Arielle rises and walks over, unsure why it has her so curious. Maybe it’s because she’s suddenly attuned to the unusual.
Maybe it’s because she’s learned nothing is a coincidence.
She runs her finger over the tile, discovering that it’s slightly, but definitely higher than the others. She grips it with the tips of her fingernails, wondering what in the world she’s doing. Even as her mother covered this wall she’d joked that she was far from a professional.
The tile comes away, exposing a hole in the wall behind it.
Arielle stares with wide eyes at the roll of parchment lodged in it. Barely breathing, she gently pulls it out.
Another message from her mother!
With trembling fingers, Arielle unrolls it. In the midnight gloom, all she sees are scribbles. Striding to the lamp, she turns it on. Maybe she’s found a clue that could help them find her!
But the soft glow reveals that the scribbles are actually symbols. Hieroglyphics of some sort. A language Arielle has never seen before.
She collapses onto the couch. “Come on, Mom. I could’ve really used a break.”
Two muted knocks on the door have Arielle leaping to her feet, the parchment clapped to her chest. Her pulse flutters in a panic as she realizes it’s after midnight.
Who would be visiting at this time?
She makes her way to the door as silently as possible, suddenly wishing she’d taken her phone. For all she knows, the boogeyman is real. A quick peek through the peephole has her letting out her breath.
Arielle opens the door. “What are you two doing here?”
Reign and Mac recoil in surprise at the sight of her. “Ari?” Mac asks incredulously. “What are you doing here?”
“Me?” Arielle glares at Reign, his rejection stinging anew. “You’re really taking this stalking to the next level.”
Mac’s eyes widen with realization. “You live here?”
“Yes. This is my house.”
Reign’s eyes close as he sighs. “Of course it is.”
“We’ll I’ll be,” drawls Mac. She grins. “Do you mind if we come in?”
Arielle frowns but steps back. “Just keep it down. My aunt is asleep upstairs.”
Mac enters with Reign just behind, and Arielle hates that she notices his proximity as he brushes past. She attributes it to her exhaustion.
“Ari, is that you?”
Arielle spins around, seeing Aunt Shell coming down the steps, holding her dressing gown around her. She stops when she sees Arielle has company, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, Aunt Shell. We didn’t mean to wake you.” Arielle’s glad it’s dark, because her cheeks flush. “Ah, these are my friends, Reign and Mac.”
“You have friends over in the middle of the night?”
Arielle shifts uncomfortably. She’s never been good at lying. “Ah, yeah. They’ve been texting me all day wanting to come over and…” She racks her brain. “To, ah, study! When I didn’t answer, they just rocked up.”
Even as she says the words, she knows how lame it sounds. Aunt Shell takes the final steps down and pauses as she takes in Mac and Reign.
Neither of them look like study buddies.
Aunt Shell’s face breaks into a broad smile. “It’s the young gentleman who changed my tire for me,” she says with pleasure. “How lovely to see you.”
Arielle glances at Reign in surprise. Young gentleman? Lovely to see you?
“We’re so sorry,” says Mac. She draws up a bright smile. “We can get pretty carried away when it comes to genetics and Mendellian inheritance. Don’t we, Reign?”
“Yep, we sure do,” he mutters.
Mac elbows him. “What’s your favorite part?”
Reign glares at her from under his dark brows and Arielle can’t blame him. They can’t afford her hastily concocted alibi.
“Probably genetic polymorphisms and their influence on the development of various disorders.”
Arielle’s brows shoot up as Aunt Shell slides a glance her way. “Handsome and clever.” Before Arielle can put a stop to the mortifying innuendo, Aunt Shell frowns. “But now isn’t the time to study.”
“Of course,” Mac agrees. “We’ll be going shortly.”
Reign nods. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Aunt Shell pats his arm reassuringly. “Of course, you wouldn’t have.” She glances at Arielle. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon, young man.” She takes herself back up the stairs, throwing them a baleful glare. “At a more appropriate hour.”
The moment she’s out of sight, Arielle turns back to Reign and Mac, indicating for them to follow her into the living room. There, she sees the parchment. She quickly picks it up and clutches it to her chest. “How did you find me?”
“Actually, we weren’t weren’t looking for you,” Mac says cheerily. “Reign got into a spot of trouble, so we needed somewhere to hang for a bit.”
Arielle glances at Reign. “More stolen cars?”
He shrugs. “Just assaulted a police officer, this time.”
Even in the half-light of the hall, Arielle can see his don’t-ask expression, so she doesn’t probe further. It’s none of her business, anyway. “Did Gabby give you my address?”
Mac shakes her head. “Nope. The Professor did.”
“The Professor?” Arielle chokes, the air feeling like it just tightened around her.
“I met her about a year ago, at the university library,” Mac explains. “She was researching Joseph of Arimathea. It was fascinating.”
Arielle blinks. Her mother even told Mac—a girl who was a stranger—about Joseph. And yet, she told Arielle nothing.
“She gave me her address. Said to come see here if I ever needed anything.” Mac jams her hands in her pockets. “Your mom’s a special woman, Ari.”
Pain lances through Arielle’s heart. “Yes, she is.”
“I haven’t needed to take her up on the offer, until today.”
Arielle nods then glances over her shoulder. “Come into the living room so we can talk. I don’t want to wake up Aunt Shell.”
Reign and Mac follow her, Mac whistling quietly under her breath when they enter.
“If I knew how cool this place looked, I would’ve come sooner.”
“My mom travelled to the Middle East a lot. She always brought something home with her.”
Reign remains just in the doorway in a manner that Arielle’s beginning to recognize. It’s like he never quite lets himself fit anywhere.
Mentally shaking he
rself, she puts the parchment down on a nearby table and crosses her arms. “So, Reign needs somewhere to lay low for a while?”
And as fate would have it, that would be her house.
Reign shifts, his gaze settling on Mac. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
Mac ignores him as she moves around the room, occasionally brushing her fingertips over a lamp or a vase. “We were at our foster home when the cops rocked up.”
Arielle startles but quickly hides it. Foster home?
“Just after we learned some guy called Detective Kane has been asking after Reign,” Mac continues.
Sweet ghosts. Detective Kane was asking about the stolen car on the day her mother disappeared.
“Reign had to punch one of them out for us to get away. Then we quickly learned that Kane’s been asking around the street, so we knew we couldn’t go back to the hangout.” Mac smiles brightly. “We were running out of options when I thought of the Professor.” She opens her arms. “And here we are.”
Arielle turns to Reign. “I’d imagine you’re having second thoughts.”
He looks away. “All you need to do is say the word, and we’ll be gone.”
Except Arielle, fool that she is, doesn’t plan on doing that. No matter how rude and taciturn Reign’s been, she’s not someone who would just turf him out on the street.
“Well, you’re not going to be much help from a jail cell,” she retorts. “As long as you stay quiet and out of sight, the guest house will work just fine.”
He straightens, blinking a couple of times. “Ah, thanks.”
It’s Arielle’s turn to blink. Those two gruff words seem to wrap straight around her heart.
“Whoa,” Mac says, something in her voice making them both turn around. She’s standing beside the table and holding the parchment, looking at it in amazement. “You have the instructions on how to open the Gates of Hell?”
21
Reign
Reign shakes off the weird sensation that just crept into his chest. Few people have offered him somewhere to stay; it’s nothing more than that. It has very little to do with the idea of spending more time with the girl who just made that offer as if anything else wasn’t an option…
Glad for the distraction—and a little alarmed at Mac’s choice of words—he quickly joins her. Looking over her shoulder, he frowns.
“That’s written in by a two-year old, Mac. One who had way too many fruit loops for breakfast. It’s illegible.”
Arielle nods, glancing at it even though she doesn’t move. “It’s some sort of ancient hieroglyphics. I suspect it’s a language that doesn’t even exist anymore.”
Mac moves the parchment closer to her face, as if she’s suddenly become long-sighted. “Really? But it’s talking about the Gates of Hell.”
Arielle is instantly by their side. “You can read it?”
Reign’s stomach drops to his feet. Surely, Mac can’t read it…
His best friend moves the parchment back out to arm’s length. “It is most definitely a set of instructions on opening the Gates of Hell. All seven of them.”
“Is this because you’ve spent too much time at the library?” Reign asks, an uneasy feeling wrapping around his spine.
“It must be,” Mac says, sounding a little edgy herself.
“What does it say?” Arielle breathes.
For some reason, Reign’s pretty sure they don’t want to know.
Mac’s eyes scan the weird symbols marching across the ancient paper. Her dark eyebrows scrunch down low. “For each Gate an Innocent must be killed.”
Seven Gates. Seven Innocents. If someone had told Reign this twenty-four hours ago he would’ve asked to sample whatever they were smoking. But now…the words coming from Mac make him feel ill.
“An Innocent?” Arielle asks in horror. “What’s an Innocent?”
Mac glances at the back of the parchment, as if she’s looking for more information. “It doesn’t really say.” She looks up at Reign and Arielle. “An innocent life taken as a ritualistic sacrifice somewhere? Maybe a virgin?”
Bile is trying to creep up Reign’s throat. “That’s just sick.”
Arielle’s blue eyes are wide in the half-light. “If this is real, we need to stop it.”
“Whoa, let’s slow down here.” Reign takes a step back as if to emphasize the point. “We don’t know what any of it means. I’m thinking we give this to Gabby and Colt. Get their take on it.”
Mac nods, looking pensive. “Where was this?”
“My mother had it hidden in the wall,” says Arielle.
“But why?” Mac persists. “Why did Sierra have it here? Why not keep it in the crypt?”
Arielle shakes her head. “I’ve discovered my mom had a lot of secrets.”
There’s a catch in Arielle’s voice that has Reign glancing at her, but she quickly looks away, avoiding his gaze.
He’s talking before he realizes what he’s doing. “If I cared about someone, I sure as heck wouldn’t have told them about all of this. I’d have tried to keep them as far away from it as I possibly could.”
Arielle’s brows crinkle as she considers his words. Next, she chews her lip in a way that draws his attention to it.
But Reign looks away before those fire-blue eyes can trap him again. He’s not even sure why he spoke. He’s not the type of guy who tries to reassure others. He doesn’t ask for comfort, and he doesn’t hand it out.
Mac rolls the parchment back up. “I’m guessing she kept it separate because if what it says it’s true, it could be uber dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“If what it says is true,” Reign adds. “Look, it’s late. Why don’t we try and get some sleep and talk to Gabby and Colt in the morning? If we’re dealing with Innocents and sacrifices and portals to Hell, we can talk game plan then.”
A part of him is still hoping this is some sick joke. That maybe there are secret cameras, and a too-perfect game show host is going to jump out any second.
Arielle gasps. “No…” Her terrified gaze bounces between Reign and Mac before settling on him. “What if the people who took my mother believe she’s an Innocent?”
Seven women abducted.
Seven Gates of Hell.
Ritualistic sacrifices…
Reign decides to outright reject the notion. “Unless you were adopted, I’m going to make the call that your mom ain’t a virgin.”
Arielle instantly relaxes. “That’s true.” She lets out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we all need to try and get some sleep.”
Mac wipes her hands down her face. “I’m liking that idea.”
“The attic is this way.” Arielle’s just taken a step toward the door when a crash powers through the house.
Reign is instantly in front of the two girls. “What the freak was that?”
Mac steps around him. “It sounded like it came from the front entry.”
Arielle grips Reign’s upper arm. “But—”
A tall man strides into the living room. Cold blue eyes scan the space until they fall on the three teens standing in shock. His lip curls in satisfaction. “Give me the parchment.”
Every muscle in Reign’s body is wired with adrenaline. He draws in a breath and expands his chest, shifting so he’s blocking Arielle even more. “Go screw yourself.”
The man angles his head, his brown hair messy and unkempt as he extends his hand. “Now. Or I kill you all.”
The flat, ruthless way the man says the words has Reign’s pulse spiking. It wasn’t a threat. It was a cold-blooded promise.
Arielle steps around Reign, her hand still holding his arm like a lifeline. Even though he can feel her trembling, her voice is steady when she speaks. “You’re not having it.”
Something flares in the man’s eyes only to be quickly enveloped by ice. “Very well.” He reaches behind to pull something out.
Reign already knows it’s a gun.
“What is going on in here?”
The sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs has everyone gasping.
“Run, Aunt Shell,” Arielle shouts.
The man quickly steps to the side, remaining hidden as Arielle’s aunt enters the living room. “It’s after midnight, Arielle. What—”
She freezes when the man presses the gun into her back, her eyes expanding exponentially.
“I was just striking a deal,” he says. “And you’ve just become my collateral.”
Arielle moans in anguish, the sound tearing at Reign’s heart. Aunt Shell is now frozen with fear, her terrified eyes pleading with them.
“All I want is the parchment and no one dies.” He shrugs. “We all win, really.”
Mac steps forward. “Deal.” She holds out the rolled up parchment. “Just don’t hurt anyone.”
The man shoves Aunt Shell forward, snatches the parchment, and is gone.
Reign’s about to go after him when Arielle’s hand tightens on his arm. “No,” she says, her voice laced with panic. “He has a gun.”
“So do most people in my neighborhood,” Reign points out. If Lance hadn’t died by a bullet wound, Reign would probably carry one himself.
“Please don’t go after him.”
For some reason, Reign knows she’s imagining the dead body they saw today. He sighs. The guy would be long gone by now, and Reign doesn’t know this part of Mercy City. “Fine, then. But just for the record, I ain’t scared of no heat.”
Arielle lets out a breath. “Thank you.”
The flash of pleasure warms through Reign again
“What...what just happened?” Aunt Shell asks in a thready voice as she collapses on the couch.
Arielle rushes to her. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
Aunt Shell shakes her head, still looking dazed. “I just need to know what’s going on.”
“I found some…paperwork of Mom’s. The next thing we knew, that psychopath was crashing through the front door, demanding it.”
“What paperwork? What did it say?”
Arielle glances at Mac. “We couldn’t read it.”
Mac shakes her head. “It was written in gobbledygook.”
