by T. G. Ayer
Patrick had always held his debriefs in his library at the end of the day with all the members gathered around him in a comfortable circle. He knew how to claim and keep the attention and the passion of the Nephilim who served the Irin. A motley crew, they had shared the desire to assist Patrick in his mission to help those in need. But now, that passion was waning. Marcellus ran the ship with a tight fist, and their love for the job was quickly fading.
Evie had to force herself to pay attention. Daniel began to hand out folders to each member, puffed with his own importance. Done, he took up position at his Master's right hand, awaiting his next instruction. His subservient demeanor downplayed the hard intelligence that shone from his eyes when he thought nobody was watching. Evie didn't trust him for a second.
Marcellus' voice broke through her thoughts. "Each of you now have your instructions and your targets. Any questions?"
No responses from the table.
"I am sure most of you need not be reminded, again, of my request regarding anything of a metal construct found on any of your marks. It is imperative that each and every item be returned to me immediately upon your return to base." Marcellus turned his head and looked straight at Evie. "There may be those among you who will question that instruction, but let me remind you of this. You serve the Brotherhood. Not the other way around."
He panned the room with those clear grey eyes.
Evie felt a wave of dissatisfaction ripple around the table. Marcellus' words were not going down well with the three teams present. Whether he knew it or not, the Grand Master of the Irin had just sown the seeds of rebellion, however miniscule.
Filing out of the room with the rest of the team, Evie gripped the paper folder tightly. She was both keen on knowing who Marcellus needed her to kill, and looking forward to learning more about what he was up to. Perhaps a little demon interrogation might do the trick. But it still angered her that she worked for that madman.
A voice beside her pulled her out of her thoughts. "What the hell was that all about?" Flash asked, his eyes matching his name. "That sucker's going from bad to worse."
Evie was uncertain how to handle Flash's question. She had so many questions about Marcellus' intentions that she was beginning to be overly suspicious. To see spies in every friend and traitors around every corner.
"Not sure, Flash. It seem pretty weird, this new take on our missions."
"Yeah. Not sure how much more of this I can take." Flash's face was etched with fatigue, his eyes lined with red veins.
"What you been up to? You look trashed." She frowned, studying his face a little closer.
"Huh? Oh…Algeria today, the Pyrenees tomorrow, and the Sahara yesterday." His shoulders slumped. "Enough to make a man cry."
Flash was another Nephilim whose strength and power was unquestioned within the Brotherhood. Clearly why they worked him so hard.
"You really should slow down. You don't want to have those fabulous wings jam on you while you're thirty miles up in the sky."
Flash smiled and shook his head, regret clear in his eyes. "Not much of a chance, girl. While I'm here, and while Shortstuff keeps on this metal foraging tack of his, there will be no rest for any of us. Especially not the ones he has already collared like dogs."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Who do you think ratted you out?" Flash stared at Evie, forcing her to question herself. "Even if you don't want to know, its Kara. He's had her under his thumb for a while now. You might want to have a chat with her before she gets you in trouble big time."
With a wink he tipped her a tiny salute and shuffled down the hall with the rest of the teams. Ash and Ling had given her some space while she and Flash were talking and were waiting just ahead. Ash raised her eyebrows and produced a silent wolf whistle. Ling just rolled her eyes and pulled her along down the hall. So Flash was a hottie. Evie wasn't interested.
"You two make a smokin' couple." Ash smiled with a distinct matchmaker gleam.
"Not interested," Evie answered, her thoughts still on Flash. Why would he give her Kara? Was he helping her or was he just getting her on a different track away from the real traitor—himself?
"You're kidding, right? You keep playing hard to get, he's gonna take his Flash and sizzle elsewhere."
"Ash, I keep telling you, he's not interested in me that way. And even if he was, I certainly am not. I don't have the time for a relationship. Besides, I have plenty of years ahead of me to dedicate to a love life."
"Yeah, we know, your first priority is to find good old Gabe." Ash shook her head. "I feel sorry for you.... You do know you are probably chasing a ghost, right?"
"I will find him."
"Yeah... and you'll be looking for him for another few centuries before the trail starts getting warm."
Evie nodded and met Ling's eyes. Ling raised an eyebrow in question and looked at her hand. Evie took note of the set of three thin acupuncture needles the other girl rolled between her forefinger and thumb. Ling would have at least seven ways to use those needles to incapacitate an opponent. And she wasn't against using it on Ash, especially when she got into one of her random lectures. Evie laughed and shook her head.
Ash, distracted by the sound, looked from Ling to Evie and then to Ling's hand. She fell into a fit of tickled laughter. "Don't you even think about it, Ling! Gosh you two. I'm gonna have to keep one eye open when I sleep."
"Only if you continue your little matchmaking plot." Evie waggled a warning finger at the still-giggling Ash.
"Hhmmm! I'm so afraid." Ash turned around and walked down the passage, knocking her knees together as she went. She looked ridiculous. Evie and Ling fell into step behind her and laughed all the way to dinner.
After the evening meal, the girls parted ways to prepare for the night's work. As of yet, Evie had not admitted to anyone on her team that she was in possession of one of the mysterious disks. She had been tempted to ask Ling to hand her disk over so she could hide it with its partner. But Ling was a possessive creature, and until Evie found out more about the true purpose of these disks, it would be best not to cause further friction within the team. Evie had gone looking for Kara, hoping to have a little chat with the other Nephilim, but oddly she'd been unable to find her. And strangely enough, Marcellus had not remarked on her absence, sent out a search party, or shown any concern about her unexplained absence from the grounds.
Evie's file had informed her that she'd been assigned to a demon in the Bayou. She wrinkled her nose. She hated swamps, mosquitoes, and humidity. And tramping around in the thick of all three did not sound like fun. She supposed she could stop for beignets on the way back. Make herself feel a tiny bit better.
The paper crinkled in her hand and Evie scanned the printout.
Demon, second class. Name: Renfru. The printed sheet contained information as to his exact whereabouts and nothing else.
Evie sighed. This was not good enough. These new orders were nothing like Patrick's missions. He'd sent them on aid missions. Not that they never had the odd assassination to perform, but they were first and foremost protectors of the people. Since Marcellus took over, the Warriors had become glorified killers, assassins, and Evie wanted it stopped.
Her first port of call would be Patrick. He'd most likely be less inclined to advise her in any action against the new order, but at least he would be able to give her an opinion on the disks themselves.
Her knock at Patrick's door was firm and loud. She hoped he'd hear her as she entered. Her eyes went straight for the bed and Evie's heart and hopes plunged. Patrick lay upon the white pillows, pale, and wrinkled and grayed. Corpselike. The thought sent Evie flying to his side. She gasped as she gripped his hand and still felt warmth, then berated herself for fearing the worst. She'd expected the icy cold fingers of death.
Patrick's eyes cracked open and she felt her heartbeat slowly return to normal. She hesitated, guilt stabbing through her as she gazed at his frail form. He barely had the strength to open
his eyes and here she was so ready to burden him with her worries.
"I'm still here, Evangeline. No need to fret." Even his smile was weak and frail.
She snorted. "Fret? Whatever makes you think I'd fret for you, old man?" She squeezed his hand and sent up a plethora of prayers.
"What's the matter, child? I can feel the negative energy rolling off you," he asked as he moved himself upward to lean against the pillows piled against the headboard.
Evie sat beside him on the bed. "I promised I wouldn't bother you with these concerns, but it's gotten so much worse today." She paused, unsure where to begin. "I asked you earlier about metal on the demons and what the Brotherhood may want with them."
Patrick nodded.
"Well then, what would Marcellus want with this?" As she posed the question, Evie drew the disk from her pocket. She turned the old man's hand over and laid the metal in the middle of his weathered palm.
Patrick was silent as he stared at the disk. It was solid metal. Heavy. He lifted the ring to his eyes and studied it closely. He looked quite strange, squinting at the piece from various angles. He'd seemed to have drawn energy from somewhere because he was suddenly lively enough to ask for his pencil and paper. He lay the paper over the disk, then using the pencil, ran the edge over the ridges of the engravings, working slowly, meticulously, taking a copy of it. Somehow, the symbols appeared clearer on the penciled copy.
"And?" Evie prodded.
"And nothing," Patrick answered, his voice breaking harshly on the words. He paused to clear his throat. "I'm afraid I cannot help you. It's fascinating and beautiful. But I haven't the faintest idea of its origin or its purpose." He shrugged and laid the disk back into Evie's hand, closing her fingers over the warmed metal. For one fleeting second, she thought she saw his forehead scrunch with worry and fear.
When she looked again his expression was clear and impassive. “It certainly doesn't look like much, but I'd take good care of it if I were you."
Patrick's manner seemed unperturbed, and he fell into a solemn silence, looking off into the shadows of the far corner of the room.
"Patrick," Evie called him softly, but she already knew he was off somewhere in his head, in that place he went where everything probably felt easier to deal with. She couldn't possibly begrudge him that. With a small sigh, she rose and left him there alone with his thoughts.
At the door she took one last glance at the old man and left feeling unsettled but more sure than ever that Patrick knew more than he was telling.
The disks were important and Patrick wasn't willing to help.
Chapter 7
Because of Marcellus, Evie was now flying the thirteen hundred miles to New Orleans. At this height, all she could see of the millions of little lives far, far below her were constant, glimmering specks of light. The air was cool on her cheeks as she flew. Her wings were strong, muscles corded, energy flowing through bones and flesh until the heat of it reached the very tips of her feathers. It still amazed her, the power and strength of those twin appendages of flight.
They allowed her to rise above humanity in a way that satisfied her deepest need. The need to distance herself from the sameness, the platitudes, the non-individuality of humans. Sure, human blood swam through her veins at this minute, but it seemed to Evie that her angelic blood often warred with and won over the lowly human DNA. She had certainly never consciously chosen a side; her angelic side seemed to win that internal tug-of-war all by itself. Until she’d learned more about humanity and seen the destruction they wrought on their own flesh and blood.
Now as she flew, Evie succumbed to the peace and serenity of the darkness. The moon was a shameful sliver hanging low in the sky. Not enough light to reveal the Nephilim as she headed to the Mississippi bayou that hid her next mark. Even so, Evie always flew with a glamor, guarding her presence from inadvertent observation. The skies had grown busier in the last century, and she never knew when she'd come across a low-flying plane or be spotted by a satellite.
Somewhere ahead, New Orleans lay on the horizon, hidden beneath the clouds, steeped in muggy, tepid air. Evie was here for Renfru—a particular demon in a prominent position in the hierarchy of Earth-side Demonica. Renfru. Just a name. Demons were blessed, no surname. Not that they would fit right into human society with such singular titles. Like all aliens living within the borders of the US, demons were forced to make the effort to obtain the necessary paperwork. From social security numbers and driver's licenses to credit cards and passports, they had everything covered to live the ordinary American life.
Their only problem was if you knew how to look, you'd find them. Evie sniggered. She had the luxury only because she could see right through a demon's glamor, while her own Heaven-powered glamor was impenetrable even to a high-level demon. She could stand right next to one of the brutes without the slightest danger of being discovered. Again she revered her angelic nature.
The Big Easy drew closer, reminding Evie of her mark's address. She hated swamps with a passion. Not that she was unable to stay dry. It was just the odor of wet sand and standing water, and the presence of so many alligators lurking below the deceptively calm waters. Evie didn't fear an alligator bite. But the possibility of being snapped at by rows of vicious teeth gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Now above the swamps, she flew lower, hovering over the lonely, darkened wetlands. Somewhere within its murky depths lay the home of the next demon she was required to dispatch. She felt the now familiar jab of her conscience, daring her to question if what she was doing was the right thing. How much longer could she go on doing Marcellus' bidding?
Evie pushed the thought out of her head and tried to concentrate on her assigned task. She just had the coordinates to work with, but they were enough. Her internal GPS tracking was faultless. Evie flew lower; the hushed whir of her wings doused her with longing. This was the only time she had to herself. The only time not under Marcellus' control.
As she dropped gently from the sky, a fine layer of moisture bathed her heated skin. The evening still bore the remnants of a hot and sticky day, and even the atmosphere was unable to summon cool and refreshing condensation.
Evie smiled. If Ash were here, she'd be fretting that the high humidity would destroy that pin-straight style she'd adopted recently. She passed over the city, her ears teased by the strains of grumbling cars and tooting horns. She headed a few miles out to Bayou Sauvage. The weak light of the moon threw the barest layer of gray illumination on the cypress swamp.
Evie hovered over the skulking river, which travelled so slowly an observer could be excused for assuming it was just a pool of standing water. The surface was littered with moldy leaves, while jerky rustling hinted at the presence of a frog or two. The closer she drew, the more distinct the sound of the bayou night became. Cicadas and frogs threw a symphony of chirps and croaks across the darkened waters. She took a deep breath and tasted musty air.
Along one of those incredibly tired tributaries, sat a dilapidated wooden house. Such a poor excuse for a home. It would better answer to the name of shack. Evie lowered herself over the building and landed on the aluminum roof with a grimace of distaste. She kept her glamor tightly woven around her as she tested the roof's ability to hold her weight. For all its ramshackle appearance, it was soundly built and the roof held strong beneath her. Evie tensed and retracted her wings, the flutter of it sending her hair into her eyes. She brushed it aside and dropped to her knees, hoping her keen ears would reveal any occupants.
Nothing.
Just the frogs and cicadas competing for attention.
Evie leaped to the ground, landing softly on the balls of her feet. Without her wings she was unable to fly, but short drops were easy as she still retained an essence of anti-gravity. She didn't float, just dropped at a slower rate, allowing her to find her footing more easily. At the entrance of the shack, Evie surveyed the warped wood of the porch that sat lopsided at the front like a dislocated jaw.
A sound
traveled to Evie's wary ears. The splash of water. Regular, like a paddle breaking the surface of the river, a gentle waterfall of droplets, and then a slight plunk, only to repeat itself over and over again. The direction from which the sound originated was distorted, unclear as the dense air played with it before delivering it to Evie's ears. Evie sighed and sought cover despite her glamor. The moon had slipped behind a bank of clouds as black as the sky itself. It was now as dark as pitch. She'd have to wait for the intruder to arrive rather than have him plough straight into her in the pitch darkness. She could see clearly enough, but she'd rather not get caught unawares.
The splashing stopped and silence lay upon the bayou, dense and thick as the muggy air. Evie waited, wishing she'd had company. Since Marcellus had taken charge, all the old procedures had flown out of the window. No longer did any of the Nephilim go out in pairs. Their jobs had become lonely, and far more lethal than she was comfortable with. Evie's last few kills had left her feeling confused and worried.
Bushes rustled and moved aside as a dark figure entered the clearing in front of the shack. The figure strode forward, something large and heavy slung over one shoulder weighing him down slightly, injecting a slight roll in his gait. Evie watched him walk to the door, and shove it open with his free shoulder. She followed, careful not to make a sound. She stood at the open door and watched as he dumped the contents of the black bag onto a table that looked like it had seen better days—probably about a century ago. Evie peered around his arm, wanting to reassure herself that the contents of the bag was not some recently deceased wino providing Renfru with his main course for dinner. She was relieved when all she saw was groceries.
He turned to the door then, as if he'd sensed her presence. His eyes searching the porch and the dark night beyond. Seeing nothing, he returned to his task.
Now, Evie studied the man. Demon really, but he looked like a man. A glimmer of sorts sheathed his body as if he wore a clear plastic coating. Like a bubble of water, light refracted against its surface and all the colors of the rainbow glowed around him. Rather pretty if you didn't remind yourself that he was a demon who hailed from the fiery bowels of Hell. Evie concentrated and slipped past the shimmer of his glamor, to the real Renfru. She shivered a little. Boy was he ugly. Well, she'd have to consider this another practical lesson in demon appearance. Evie was hoping to avoid the dissection part of the lesson.
