by T. G. Ayer
She hurried to see Patrick. What would he say about her discoveries? She hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed in her.
Evie ached for some kind of release from her confusion. Yesterday, Patrick had refused to acknowledge anything was wrong even though she had seen his face, seen the disk had been of grave concern to him. But he'd remained so calm about it.
What could possibly be his reason for not helping her find out more about Marcellus and his plans for the Brotherhood? He was ill, but she'd never known Patrick to back down from a challenge. And now that she had the Seals in her possession, all she wanted was for Patrick to tell her she'd done the right thing. But what if he thought it was a bad idea?
Not that she could return the Seals anyway.
She'd slowed her pace on the way to speak to him. Would it be too late to talk to him? But it was just on three in the morning and her rendezvous with Barry was not far off. Patrick's immortality had not lessened the requirements of the human body, he still needed sleep and food like any normal person. As did Evie and the other Nephilim.
Unlike angels, their humanity demanded they care for their fragile bodies. If their bodies gave out, they had no option to find another one. Although most Nephilim were long-lived, it was a common misconception that nothing could kill them.
Evie tapped her knuckles on the door, but the knock sounded flat as the door swung open with the pressure. Why was Patrick's room door left open? He valued his privacy, especially now that he was so frail. He rarely accepted visits from the students either.
Alarm lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
She pushed the door open with her toe as her hand went to her side to retrieve her blade, glad she had taken the time to retrieve the weapon. Evie stepped quietly into the room, pulling her glamor over her to conceal her presence. In case an intruder still lurked within Patrick's room, she'd be able to catch them in the act.
She wasn't sure what she expected to see, but when her eyes fell on Patrick she knew what she had sensed even before she'd entered the room.
An icy cold filtered through Evie as she stepped toward the bed, fingers of grief closing slowly around her heart.
Death's pallor had touched the room throughout Patrick's convalescence, but tonight it hung thick and suffocating within the room. Fingers of moonlight snaked across the room and stopped at the foot of the bed as if afraid to reach any farther, leaving the hideous four-poster in murky shadows.
Even before she reached his bedside, Evie knew the hand she touched would be cold and lifeless. Her fingers grazed his knuckles. Ice bled into her blood. She gulped down a grief-ridden sob. Cold seeped into her body as if the simplest touch of Patrick's flesh soaked up the iciness of his skin, progressing through her limbs and turning her blood to shards of ice.
She turned her attention to the room then, eyes hot, vengeance brimming in her soul. Evie searched every nook and cranny, even inside the closets. Lastly, she opened the glass doors and checked the length of the balcony. Only after she was certain there was nobody in the room did she slumped down beside her father, teacher, and friend.
This time he didn't sneak a peek at her through half-shut eyes. Didn't smile that benevolent smile he reserved for only her.
Tears burned her throat and ran unchecked down Evie's cheeks. Though she made no sound as she sobbed, Evie was screaming inside. The terrible, wailing, heart-wrenching scream of familial loss and despair.
Chapter 13
Evie sat next to Patrick's body in the silence and the shadows. She felt the bleak cold of the encroaching morning seep into her. The icy touch of Patrick's hand within hers seeped all the way to her heart. Although his health had been steadily getting worse, Evie had never allowed herself to contemplate what she would do when his illness finally conquered him.
She stared at his face through a sheen of tears. He didn't have anything to tell her after all. No advice, no reprimands. And worst of all, no goodbyes.
At last, when her fingers were cramped and as cold as Patrick's, and when her shoulders began to burn, she moved. Evie laid Patrick's hands on his chest and smoothed the covers around him. His eyes were closed. He'd always joked about the coins. Always kept the two confederate silver coins in his bedside drawer just in case.
He'd laughed about it and so had Evie. Now they would come in handy.
Although it had been bandied about as a joke, Evie suspected that Patrick really did believe in the tradition. He would want her to place the coins on his eyes—his payment to Charon.
She leaned over, pulled open the drawer and rifled around for the silver pieces. Coins in hand, she nudged the drawer closed and turned to place them on Patrick's eyelids when she stiffened with shock. The rubbing of the Seal was gone. Patrick had taken the copy on the piece of fine paper, folded it carefully and placed it on the table beside his water glass. Now it was nowhere to be seen.
Something glinted on the floor between the table and the bed. Evie fell to her knees and peered closer. Patrick's crystal water glass now lay on the floor, half hidden by the bed-covers. Puzzled, she gripped the lip with two fingers and dragged it toward her. Sitting back, she turned the glass around in her hand and hissed with pain. She withdrew her hand sharply as blood welled from the edge of her fingers. The shattered lip had sliced into two of Evie's fingers leaving her with a pair of deep, jagged cuts.
She rose and rifled through Patrick's closet for a handkerchief, quickly wrapping it around the cuts. She pressed down hard to stem the flow of blood, then sat on the bed to contemplate the discovery of the broken glass.
What had happened to cause him to drop the glass with such force that the crystal would shatter at the lip? Had it fallen from Patrick's hand, it would have fallen heavy-bottom side down. Naturally the bottom of the glass would have been damaged, not the lip.
Further searching and Evie came up empty. No sign of the rubbing and no further clues about the broken glass. She'd searched a second time, more for reassurance than thoroughness. She hoped to find the chipped piece of crystal. That at least would have given her a clue as to how the glass had broken. She stood at the foot of the bed, staring at Patrick's unmoving body, feeling hopeless and helpless. Everyone had said Patrick was coming to the natural end of his life. And here—
Evie gasped.
Did you make it look natural?
She'd heard that phrase not so long ago. Not long ago, Daniel had asked Marcellus if he'd made "something" look natural. Could they have had something to do with Patrick's death?
Evie's gut spasmed, and her instinct screamed. She'd known all along Marcellus was instrumental in Patrick's illness. This just confirmed it. But what could she possibly do about it? It wasn't as if she could bang their door down and have them thrown in jail for murder. Here in the Brotherhood, Marcellus was judge, jury, and executioner.
The room faded into darkness. A cloud hid the weak moon on the horizon and took away the bare light. Evie stood still in the darkness and made a decision.
She could do nothing here. But she could make sure the bastard never sets his eyes on the Seals.
There had been a niggling doubt about whether she was doing the right thing taking the Seals but now, sitting on Patrick's bed, beside his cold corpse, she was sure. Baa'ruk would be waiting to take her to the entrance to Hades.
She was now the Guardian of the Seals of Hades. And she had to protect them with her life.
Patrick would approve. She had to believe he would approve. Had to believe he would give her his blessing. Before the cloud-cover receded, Evie left the room, leaving the door ajar as she'd found it.
She had a demon waiting.
She had work to do and now there was no reason to wait.
Back in her room, Evie retrieved the Seals from their hiding place and stuffed them into her backpack, taking extra care to ensure that each disk was well wrapped. The last thing she wanted was to have the Seals knock against each other and announce to the world that she had the dreaded things in her poss
ession.
The room lay silent behind her. Empty. Her eyes filled with tears. For Patrick. For herself. For everything she was likely to lose. Friends. Her purpose with the Irin.
Evie felt like she was saying good-bye. It wasn't as if she was leaving for good, though. She just had no idea what was in store for her. Maybe they wouldn't find the entrance, or maybe she wouldn't need to cross the River. Maybe she could return the Seals to Hades and come home, and everything would be okay. For now, she had to get a move on.
But what if Barry didn't come?
Pull yourself together. He'll be there, and all this will be over soon.
Evie's laugh was silent and bitter. When it was all over she'd be back under Marcellus' thumb and back to normal. Back to being without Patrick and to watching Marcellus control the Warriors. But there was no turning back now. Best to get out before Daniel and the Master find they were missing their Seals.
Not to mention missing a Nephilim.
There'd be hell to pay and Evie intended to be as far away from the fireworks as possible. She shut the door and tiptoed past the other rooms. Ling and Ash would be asleep and snoring their way to dawn. The temptation to rouse them from their beds and take them with her was almost overwhelming. She would have loved the company. But she conceded it was safer to leave her friends at home. She'd never be able to live with herself if anything happened to them. They would have been just as eager as she was to take this journey, especially since it meant thumbing a nose at Marcellus.
But Evie had to do this herself. By killing Patrick, Marcellus had taken this beyond the line. Marcellus had attacked her family and for Nephilim, vengeance overpowered all else.
This was her fight.
Return the Seals, come back, and hold Marcellus and Daniel accountable for the death of her family.
Slipping out through the darkened kitchen, Evie watched for the guards. A dark, imposing figure tramped past and Evie held her breath until he disappeared around the far corner of the building. With the coast clear she scrambled through the herb garden and fruit trees which grew all the way to the back end of the estate. The pungent scent of thyme, rosemary, and chives assaulted her nostrils as her jogging feet broke leaves and released the aromas to the silent morning air.
Every few seconds she paused behind a tree trunk, listening for footsteps. Expecting any minute to hear the crashing of booted feet on the soft ground—Marcellus' mob in pursuit of the Seal thief.
The grounds were large, taking her at least fifteen minutes to make her way to the electric fence that wrapped around the Irin land. At the fence Evie thrust out her wings in a flash of feathers and flew over. It was more of a winged leap rather than a short flight and she landed on the other side in a swoosh of retracting wings.
A deep, soft cough echoed among a copse a few feet in front of Evie. The bushes rustled and blond dreads poked through the branches. Relief cooled Evie's heated brow.
"Hi," she whispered and crouched down beside him. She kept her personal space clear around her, still slightly unnerved with Barry the albino demon, secretly relieved that he'd actually kept his word.
"Hi. You're in the clear." He nodded at the darkened estate. "Nobody followed you. We'd better get going."
Evie took one last forlorn look at her home, before Baa'ruk led her to the other side of the copse. Hidden beneath a fall of branches and dead leaves, was a sleek, black motorcycle.
Evie's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "What in Heaven's name are you doing with a Ducati?" She was in awe.
"Heaven had nothing to do with it." Baa'ruk smiled at her and tossed a shiny black helmet at her. "We have to make a living while Earth-side. And the boss prefers we stay away from illegal stuff. I'm a mechanic."
Evie's fingers stuck to the helmet in hands suddenly slick with sweat. There was only one bike. How do you ride any motorcycle without holding onto the driver? She suppressed the urge to shudder, grateful for the darkness which cloaked her prejudice.
"We'd better get going." Baa'ruk tossed a booted, leather-clad leg over the bike and sat, waiting for Evie to hop on behind him.
"How come you just don't disapparate there?" she asked. Anything else besides this.
"Because within the Underworld, all forms of magic which do not belong to Hades have no power."
"Oh," was all Evie could manage while intensely aware of the demon's thickset body right in front of her. The machine roared to life and jerked forward. Evie—with no choice left—clung to Baa'ruk's padded jacket, thankful for its thickness. She gripped the fabric instead of hugging his torso to hold on.
With the helmet snug around her head, she was unable to ask where exactly they were going. The bike implied it would be nearby. Well, nearby for someone who could easily traverse the length of the US in one night. She considered the very possible option of flying Baa'ruk to the location. But she was stumped again. Flying meant she'd have to hold on to the demon, hold him far too close for her liking.
She'd rather make out with Flash than be that close to a demon.
Evie smiled, slightly ashamed. Flash was a good guy, nothing wrong with him in the make-out department, either. She was being unfair to bring him into the equation. And although she was far from interested in Flash as a canoodling partner, he would be a fairly nicely packaged, good-looking option.
She concentrated on holding on.
Holding on meant getting away. For now, Evie just wanted to be as far away from Greylock as possible when the disappearance of the Seals was discovered.
Chapter 14
Baa'ruk the demon rider sped into the Appalachians. The only sound on the quiet morning road was the voluptuous roar of the engine. They hung a right and sped into the foothills. Soon they were surrounded by trees and greenery, a good place to hide especially since the sun would soon make its appearance over the horizon. Evie scanned the clear skies. It was going to be a glorious day.
As the bike sped away from Greylock, taking Evie farther away from her dead mentor, she thought her pain would get easier. But grief still twisted its knife deep into Evie's heart. Would someone have found Patrick by now? Probably Castor. Evie could almost hear Castor's keening cry. Her heart ached for him. Another thing they would both share.
Now they would both be alone again.
And hour later Barry slowed, turning off the road into a stand of trees. He parked the bike out of sight of the road and said, "Let's have something to eat. It's been one helluva morning."
Evie was amazed that the demon had the forethought to pack a bag of food for the trip. Amazing that he had been so thoughtful. More amazing that she herself had totally forgotten her own stomach. Food had been the last thing on Evie's mind.
Barry's stale beignets filled the emptiness in her stomach, taking away the gnawing hunger, but leaving behind a queasiness that made Evie wonder if she would be able to keep the food down. She flailed about for something to think about other than Patrick, and Castor's lonely grief.
"You coming with me?" she asked Baa'ruk as she tidied away the remnants and crumbs, throwing her paper cups into a nearby trashcan.
"What? Are you kidding? Not to Hades—no way!" The demon laughed, his pale eyes crinkled and white teeth glittered in the weak dawn light. He had no need for his glamor this morning. Had shed it in totality.
"Why not? Don't you want to visit home? Or do you Earth-side demons have a no-return policy?" she jibed.
"Don't you know anything about the Underworld?" he asked in disbelief.
"Why would I be an expert on the Underworld? I have no interest in Hell as a vacation spot, thanks much!" Her lips twisted wryly.
"Hades, the Underworld, is the world of the dead. The shades. The spirits. The accursed. Demons live in Hell. We are very much alive in case you haven't noticed, that is until you kill us...."
Baa'ruk smiled, taking the edge off the accusation. Nevertheless, it did hurt. Her whole Warrior life had been based on the tenet of "shoot now ask questions later." The problem was she
was a crack shot. None ever survived long enough to answer any questions.
"We are children of the darkness, not of the dead."
"Yeah, I know. You are children of the Angels just like me." She laughed drily, unable to keep the distaste from her voice.
"Laugh all you want. It's the truth. You think appearances make you what you are?" Evie blushed, ashamed that she sounded like a superficial airhead. "A good few of us were Earth-side for centuries, guarding the Seals."
"Why not just hide them someplace together?"
"Because together, the Seals generate a power. Like a beacon. Certain interested parties have the tools to find them. That's why we need to keep moving and get you to the entrance fast." Baa'ruk had kept one eye on the road through the entire conversation.
"Fine with me. The sooner I hand them over to his Lordship, the sooner I can get back home to my life." Evie dusted her hands on her butt and pulled her helmet back on, fastening the buckle under her chin. This time, when she jumped on behind Baa'ruk, she forgot that she should have been totally grossed out at being so close to a demon.
The Ducati purred, then grumbled to a stop. Evie tugged off the helmet and ran her fingers through her hair as she slid off the motorcycle. They were standing at the base of a mountain in the middle of the Appalachians. Rocks spilled down it as if a giant's kid had tossed their marbles onto the side of the mountain, letting them fall haphazardly to the ground.
Baa'ruk began to walk up the incline and Evie followed. She considered hovering, giving her wings a turn. Then thought better of it. The last time she'd shucked her wings out in the vicinity of her demon companion, he'd gone into a sneezing fit. A demon engrossed in a fit of sneezes would be of no real use to her. Better not to incapacitate her guide.
They had climbed a few yards up the hill when Baa'ruk stopped. Evie stopped short of walking right into his back. She peered over his shoulder. The dark mouth of a cave beckoned, set into the rock face so strategically that unless you knew where to find it, you would pass it by a hundred times without seeing it.
