by Kristie Cook
“It hasn’t stopped Demons from using it before,” he said.
Maria’s gaze returned to his. “No, it hasn’t. This, Demonio, is the reason why it is better protected now.”
Marcas moved around me.
Maria rose shakily, her old age apparent. “I’m not afraid of you, Demonio. I’ve seen what you are and what you can be. I’ve spent my life among your kind because my so-called gift didn’t give me a choice." She took a shaky step forward. “I am not interested in your anger or your threats. I have lived a full life. Threats do not bother me. But I will help you.”
My gaze shot to her face. Marcas watched her warily.
“This time is different. Your brother has changed the rules of the game, and brought a Naphil many thought couldn’t exist into the fold. It has changed everything,” she said.
Marcas moved to her. “The ring.”
His voice was low, calm even. Maria reached up and placed a hand on Marcas’ shoulder. He didn’t push her away.
“I’ll help you. But only because I’m afraid of what will happen if you two stay bound. If you won’t take her soul, then there’s little choice left. The ring isn’t in Italy.” She dropped her hand.
I coughed. What? She was joking, right?
Marcas stiffened, and he grabbed Maria’s arm. “Where?” he asked.
“The SOS hid it in Egypt,” she answered.
I had to move back to the bench. I sat down hard.
“Egypt?” I whispered.
Both Marcas and Maria ignored me.
“Why?” Marcas asked.
Maria leaned against him, weariness filling her gaze. “The SOS was becoming afraid. You aren’t the first Demon to pursue the ring. Lilith has been the most aggressive. The SOS made the decision to move it after your mother’s last attempt. But they kept a few of Solomon’s artifacts in Italy. Only one would help you now."
Marcas took Maria by the elbow and led her to the bench. She sat next to me.
“The carpet?” he asked.
Maria nodded. I tried my best to follow.
“Who has it, Maria?”
“Alessandro."
I wanted to ask them what they were talking about but even I recognized the need for silence.
Maria looked down at her hands. “It’s been a long time, Demonio. He may not remember you,” she warned.
Marcas backed away from the bench and motioned to me. I stood and followed him. Maria’s hand gripped my wrist. I paused.
“Don’t do anything you feel uncomfortable with. There are always choices,” Maria told me quietly.
I looked up at Marcas. He was watching Maria with an unreadable expression.
His gaze moved to mine. “We need to go.”
I glanced away from him and placed a hand over Maria’s. “I’ll be careful,” I promised.
She patted my hand with her free one and let go of my wrist. “You’ll see me again,” she promised.
I walked away, and I didn’t look back.
“I’m assuming you know where we’re going,” I asked Marcas shortly.
He moved in front of me. “No, Blainey. I’m just going on instinct,” he spat.
I was sick of his snide remarks, and I threw him the bird behind his back. Jackass.
Chapter 28
The air is changing. The trumpet has been blown and the troops have rallied. The SOS is only a safe house. It won’t remain safe for long. What has Damon, in his insanity, caused?
~Bezaliel~
I closed my eyes and looked for my inner light. It made seeing in the dark so much easier. I just wished I could keep my eyes closed. Opening them meant I had to look at Marcas. Big joy.
“So, who’s Alessandro?” I asked.
Marcas turned a corner and moved up to a vehicle parked on the side of the road. With my new night eyes, I could tell it was red. He put his hand against the car door and it fell open.
I looked around us cautiously. “Ummm, please tell me this is some rental car you forgot to tell me about,” I hissed as I moved up behind him.
Marcas gave me a bemused look then pointed at the passenger side.
I sighed. “No such luck huh? Great! Now I’m an Angel who’s committed grand larceny. Is that even legal in Heaven?”
I slid into the car. I’d never get used to being a passenger while sitting on the driver’s side. It was just wrong. Marcas placed his hand on the steering wheel and the car started up. Seriously? Watching him made me wonder what kind of powers I was supposed to have that I hadn’t managed to discover yet. So far, I could throw light balls and see in the dark. Cool, but not as cool as producing clothes out of thin air, fixing broken china or walls, and starting vehicles without a key. I felt like I was in an episode of Criss Angel Mind Freak.
My stomach growled. “Not that I’m complaining or anything … okay, I’m complaining, but please tell me that there’s food where ever we’re going,” I said as I buckled the seat belt. The last car ride I’d had with Marcas hadn’t been all that rad. I was seriously devoted to protective gear this time around.
Marcas glanced at me. His eyes spoke volumes. I was getting used to this one-sided verbal communication thing. This should worry me but it didn’t.
“Don’t give me the whole ’high maintenance’ look. It’s not that I have a thing against blood. I’m just part of the ’I like my food well done’ fan club. Donuts, dumdums … now that’s fine cuisine,” I protested as Marcas drove. I was babbling again. Logically, I knew that meant I was nervous.
“You’re talking about high fructose corn syrup and fried flour, not food,” Marcas said flatly.
I glanced at him. Had he actually gone all normal person speak mode on me? Be still my heart, I was impressed. “Well, well, the Demonio does speak. I beg to differ, my blood-bound Demon counterpart. Dumdums are the nectar of the Earth.” I was nothing if not dramatic.
Marcas snorted, his lips twitching. Had he almost smiled?
“Earth bound Angels tend to have a thing for sugar. They crave it. Some even need it,” Marcas said quietly.
Was he talking about Sophia? The thought actually made me feel a little depressed. I’d ask myself why, but I wasn’t really sure I wanted the answer.
“You’re spoiling my mood, Craig. And here I thought I was one of a kind. Are you telling me I’m not the only person who eats cake frosting like it’s ice cream?” I asked sullenly.
Marcas sped the car up. “Never fear, Blainey. You’re definitely one of a kind.”
I glanced at him. Was that a compliment or an insult? Marcas took a curb fast, and I looked down at the speedometer. Even if I didn’t understand the numbers, it would be impossible not to feel the speed.
“Is there a reason we’re speeding like a bat out of Hell through what’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful countries in the world?” I asked. Nervous butterflies twitted in my stomach.
He glanced in my direction. “You’d feel it if you let your guard down."
I stared. “Feel what?"
Marcas shifted gears. “The Demons.”
I held my breath. The what? I looked around us. The windows were dark.
“Feel it, Blainey. I know you knew what Luther and Lexi were when you met them. It’s the same difference. Just open up your mind and feel,” he ordered.
I sat back in my seat. Nothing came to me.
Marcas took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on my arm. The floodgates of Hell opened. Literally. Nausea swept through me and I doubled over in pain.
“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed.
Marcas removed his hand. “God has nothing to do with that,” he said sourly.
My fists clenched the seat. “What was that, Craig? That wasn’t just one Demon!” I cried.
My eyes searched the night. The city was flying past my window. I didn’t know how Marcas saw to drive.
“It’s at least fifty Demons,” Marcas answered.
“Fifty! Oh, my God!”
My heart began to beat w
ell beyond the normal pulse rate. I was tempted to sit in Marcas’ lap. I wasn’t being a girl, I was just being smart. Right now, he was stronger than me.
“You need to learn to feel them on your own, Blainey. They’ve been following us since we landed. They aren’t as close as you think they are. They are closing in, but we still have time. Maybe a day or two. But we do need to hurry,” he said calmly.
I looked over at him. “You’re telling me we are being followed by at least fifty Demons who I’m sure aren’t looking to make friends and you want me to take feeling lessons. What is this? On the job training?”
My tone was edged with terror. Marcas moved onto a road that led out of the city. He ignored my question. I took in deep breaths to calm my breathing.
“Who’s Alessandro?” I asked him again.
Marcas picked up speed. “He’s the head of the Swords of Solomon."
He was what? I closed my eyes and counted slowly to ten. It didn’t work.
“What the fuck, Craig! There’s a mass of Demons wanting to see at least one of us dead, and we are driving into the hands of a group protecting an item we want to steal. Oh yeah, I see the brightness in this plan!” I yelled.
Marcas didn’t so much as flinch. “You don’t strike me as the type who enjoys taking the easy way out of anything, Blainey.”
I shot him a look. “You seem to forget I haven’t been given the choice. If it were up to me, I’d hit the easy button every time.”
Marcas snorted. He actually snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Fuck you!”
“If you did that, you’d at least have Damon off your back,” Marcas said.
Seriously? He went there? I covered my face with my hands and screamed. It may have been a little on the cheesy side, but the release made me feel better. I managed to regain a modicum of calm. Fine! So, there were a mass of Demons following us, we were driving to meet the leader of the Swords of Solomon, and Damon was back in little ol’ Lodeston, Mississippi hoping I’d breed with his brother? How dandy! Where was my fucking easy button?
I looked at Marcas. “Now might be a good time for you to teach me how to kill a Demon.”
He shifted gears before glancing at me. The look he gave me was a hard one.
I narrowed my eyes. “I need a quick lesson, Craig. If you go all Karate Kid on me and start that wax-on-wax-off shit, you will be the first Demon I try to kill.”
Marcas shook his head. I had to quit using movie analogies. I was pretty sure he didn’t get them.
“You’d only kill yourself with the attempt,” he pointed out.
I slumped down in my seat. “It’d be worth the try."
Marcas turned onto an empty dark road. I could see a field on my side of the car. A vineyard maybe?
“You have to tear out their hearts and crush it,” Marcas said suddenly.
My head shot in his direction. “What?”
“To kill a Demon, you have to tear out his heart then destroy it.”
I stared. “Demons have hearts?” My words dripped skepticism.
“Not typical ones, but they are built like mortals to a fashion. Demons can be grotesque and some are animal-like, but we all have some form of a heart. In our case, it’s only an organ for survival. Take that away and even we die. Those not Cursed return to Hell and are reborn,” he said.
I watched his face. It was calm and unlined. “How do you do it?” I asked him.
His brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Stay so calm, so detached?”
“I’ve been around a long time, Blainey,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, cut the old man crap! The old men I know are more emotional than guys my own age. Especially in the Southern U.S.. This is a Marcas Craig thing.”
The car turned, but I didn’t look out the window to see where we were going. My gaze was locked on his face.
“It’s a Demon thing,” Marcas corrected. “It’s never good to let a Demon know how you feel. It gives them a weakness to prey on. You either learn to shut yourself off or you suffer the consequences.”
“Death?” I asked.
Marcas gripped the steering wheel. “Much worse, Blainey. Death would be so much easier to handle."
I started to say something, but he shook his head.
I closed my mouth briefly. "And Angels? Why can’t they die?" I redirected.
Marcas’ hands tightened even more on the steering wheel. If he didn’t ease up, he was going to break the thing.
"They are born of light. They belong to Heaven. Only God can kill an Angel. When Lucifer fell, the ability to be invincible was taken away. But Demons can’t die either. Not really. Most of us are always recycled," Marcas said.
My brows furrowed. "And yet the Angels don’t have the upper hand?"
Marcas glanced my way. "You have to remember that Demons are constantly recycled when their bodies are destroyed, new half-Demons are continuously born to mortal women or bred by mortal men with Demon women, and Satan is constantly collecting human souls he forces into the war. Our numbers are always huge. And while Angels cannot die, they can be injured by Demons. And only Demons. And then they need time to heal."
It was fruit for thought, his words. I started to ask another question, but Marcas stopped me.
“We’re here," he said.
I looked out the window and gawked. How rich was the man who guarded the artifacts of Solomon? The white stone home we stared at now wasn’t much smaller than the Abbey itself, and the cars parked along the front would make any man or woman who saw them salivate in envy.
“I’m assuming the Swords of Solomon isn’t a full time position for this Alessandro,” I breathed.
Marcas opened the car door and stepped out. I followed suit.
“You’d be surprised. He is the director of the group and there are a lot of private investors dealing in religious artifacts,” he pointed out.
I watched Marcas over the hood of the car. Why had he chosen to come here?
“How do you know him? How does Maria know him?” I asked.
Marcas shut the door and turned to face the house. “He’s her son,” Marcas explained.
He left my first question unanswered. Her son? Maria’s son? This made me pause. What was Marcas to Maria and Alessandro?
“How do you know Maria?” I asked.
The question had plagued me since we’d met her. He started walking across the yard, and I followed. I thought for sure he wouldn’t answer but he surprised me.
“She was a young girl when I first met her. She was an earthbound pursuit of mine once. At the time, she was a young widow of nineteen with a two-year-old son.”
I gawked at him. He had dated her? Maria? I froze. Really?
Marcas paused and looked over his shoulder. “Demons have earthly affairs, Blainey. You may do well to dispel yourself of any naÏve ideas now. I will never be a saint. Maria was beautiful once. Her soul still is. It shines with a brightness that would attract any Demon."
I stared at him. The curdling of my stomach wasn’t because he’d dated Maria. I wasn’t naÏve by any means. No, it was the sudden dawning realization of something much bigger than that. He’d been alive a long, long, long, long time. That meant he’d been with a lot of women.
“How many women does that put you at?” I asked.
My hand flew to my mouth. Had I actually asked him that? Jesus!
Marcas started walking again. I hurried to catch up.
“I won’t continue this discussion,” he said flatly.
I didn’t push him. It was a question I shouldn’t have asked in the first place. It didn’t mean I couldn’t ask them in my head. There were many. How long had he been with Maria? I had a hard time picturing the rosary clad woman with a Demon. Was it a rebellious time in her life? Maybe a time when she was angry at God? Could it have been because she was a widow? Had she blamed God for the death of her husband? I suddenly couldn’t wait to meet up with her again. She fascinated me.
> I looked up at the house and frowned. “Are we just going to walk up to the door?”
If the Swords of Solomon had gotten wind of our situation, they’d be ready to kill on sight, wouldn’t they? They’d have to be aware that Marcas was interested in the ring.
“We are going to talk with Alessandro, yes,” Marcas answered.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Won’t they want us dead?”
Marcas looked at me. “Not necessarily. I am their threat. You, on the other hand, will be news to them. They are mortals, Blainey. They won’t be aware of your existence or the fact that we are bound. You are a Naphil seeking refuge among a group who assassinates Demons. The fact that we are being tracked by Demons will help your case.”
I watched him. I felt like I was being debriefed for an undercover operation.
“I am not an actress,” I muttered.
Marcas lifted a brow. “It’s time you learn to be.” He rang the doorbell. “They already know we’re here. They have enough security to be aware of it."
I looked at the door. “And they haven’t captured us?”
“No doubt they are curious as to why a Demon is here with an Angel. They will have a Seer with the same gift as Maria. It is essential that they have men and women who can discern the difference between mortals, Angels, and Demons. I have a past history with an Angel. Maria has made you aware of this. It won’t seem out of place for me to be involved with another.”
Footsteps approached from within.
“Involved?” I whispered.
Marcas put a hand on the small of my back. It made me jump. What was he playing at?
“Just look down and appear scared, Blainey,” he ordered.
I did as he commanded. I didn’t have to pretend to look frightened. I was terrified. The door swung open. Light illuminated our feet, and I closed my eyes to let go of my night vision.
“Can I help you?” a female voice asked. Her tone was stern and cruel. There was no doubt she knew what Marcas was.
“I seek an audience with Alessandro. Tell him it is Marcas. Tell him I require a favor,” Marcas said coolly.
The woman grew quiet. The door drew further open. “I imagine you are aware of our group. I will inform Alessandro of your presence, but you will be guarded until he decides what is to be done with you,” she said.
