by S. J. Day
“Sure,” Jones said, unsmiling.
Eve led the group into the kitchen and began preparing the coffeemaker. “So what brings you to my door?”
“We found a local florist who remembers selling water lilies on two separate occasions to this man,” Ingram said.
She looked over her shoulder. The detective held up a sketch artist’s rendering. Mostly she found the ones she saw on television to be useless for identification purposes, but this one was good. It looked eerily like the Nix. She took the carafe over to the sink.
“Have you seen this man, Ms. Hollis?” Jones asked.
“No.” The mark burned.
“What about you, Mr. Cain? Have you seen him?”
“I haven’t, no.” Alec, moved to the cupboard that held the mugs.
“I don’t believe you,” Ingram said bluntly.
Eve sighed and filled up the water reservoir of the coffeemaker. “I’m sorry about that.”
“So are we.” Jones propped one foot on the rail that ran along the bottom of the island. “You see, either both you and Mrs. Basso received flowers—which is what we think happened—or another woman in Huntington Beach has been targeted. The rest of the lilies were purchased at various locations in Anaheim. We don’t want to waste our time on you, if there’s another victim out there.”
Holding her tongue was killing Eve. She could hear the frustration in the detectives’ voices and it broke her heart. She hated to send them on a wild goose chase, but what else could she do? Telling the truth wasn’t an option.
Alec pulled the bag of coffee beans out of the freezer. “Did you look at the security tapes?”
As Eve took the bag from him and poured the beans into the grinder, her hands were steady but she was shaking inside.
“We did,” Jones admitted. “This man visited Mrs. Basso.”
“But not Ms. Hollis,” Alec finished.
Eve realized he’d planned ahead and doctored the video. She was both grateful and admiring.
The din of the grinder blocked out all conversation for a few moments, then she filled the filter and turned on the coffeemaker. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and faced the two detectives.
“I really wish I could help you,” she said softly.
Ingram smiled grimly and toyed with his handlebar mustache. “We think you can, Ms. Hollis. You’ll be seeing us around until we’re sure either way.”
“I’ll have to stock up on coffee, then.”
Alec moved the mugs from the counter to the island. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way . . . Cream and sugar, anyone?”
Eve was curled up on her living room sofa watching Wildest Police Videos when the knock came to her front door.
She debated ignoring it. Today was the first day in three weeks of training where she didn’t feel like she had been hit by a truck. She didn’t want any unwanted visitors ruining it. Even with her ability to heal rapidly, Mark combat training was hard work and it was six days a week. She’d come to seriously appreciate the classroom-only days. And Sunday. Now known affectionately as “vegetation day.”
The knocking came again, louder.
With a small grunt, Eve pushed to her feet. Out of habit, she paused at the console table by the door and withdrew her gun. Then she peered through the peephole. Alec stood there, smiling.
“Angel,” he called out in that rumbling purr that caressed like warm velvet. “It’s just your friendly neighbor.”
Pulling the door open, she waved at him with her gun hand. He was wearing shades, a tank top, knee-length Dickies shorts, and pure sex appeal. No one wore it better.
He pushed his sunglasses up and smiled. “Pretty soon you’ll be more deadly than that weapon.”
“I still like the way it feels.” She hefted it reverently. “Weighty, solid.”
With one hand on the jamb, Alec leaned in. She watched, riveted. He stopped with his lips a hairs-breadth away from hers.
“I’ve got something weighty and solid,” he murmured, his breath gusting across her lips. “Wanna take it for a ride?”
“That’s so crude,” she whispered back. “I think it turned me on.”
He kissed her. “I was talking about my bike.”
Her mouth made a moue.
“I want to take you out,” he said. “Let’s have some fun and relax a little.”
“We can have fun here.”
“And we will.” His dark eyes burned with promise. “Later.”
“What’s wrong with now?”
Alec laughed. “Much as I love having sex with you—and you know I do—we’ve never been on a date.”
Eve frowned. “A date?”
“You. Me. Outside. In the sun. Doing things together in public that won’t get us arrested.”
“What things?”
He shouldered his way in and plucked the gun from her hand. “I was thinking we could take a ride down the coast to San Diego. It’s a beautiful day.”
She watched him return her weapon to its padded case and zip it up. Then he tucked it back into the drawer.
A date. Something warm and fuzzy expanded in her chest. “Let me change.”
“Don’t. You look hot.”
Eve looked down at her outfit of shorts and tank top. Totally, ridiculously unsafe for motorcycle riding. But then again, there were some perks to being marked. Alec had hyper reflexes and she was built like a tank. Kinda. Sorta.
“If you turn off the television,” she said, “I’ll go get my boots.”
Alec caught her arm. “Wear those.” He pointed to the flirty flip-flops tucked beneath the console.
“Not very practical on a bike,” she pointed out.
“Let’s be impractical. It’s Sunday. You’re supposed to take the day off.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
“Have I ever told you,” he purred, “how sexy those little flowers you have painted on your big toes are?”
Eve slipped on the shoes. “What’s in San Diego?”
“Seahawks versus Chargers.”
“That’s such a guy date,” Eve teased, smiling.
He grabbed her keys and shades. Then he pulled her out to the hallway and locked the door. “We’ll take care of the girl parts later.”
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
EVE OF DARKNESS
Copyright © 2009 by Sylvia Day
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-6041-0
ISBN-10: 0-7653-6041-1
First Edition: May 2009
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
APPENDIX
THE SEVEN ARCHANGELS
1. These are the names of the angels who watch.
2. Uriel, one of the holy angels, who presides over clamor and terror.
3. Raphael, one of the holy angels, who presides over the spirits of men.
4. Raguel, one of the holy angels, who takes vengeance on the world of the luminaries.
5. Michael, one of the holy angels, to wit, he that is set over the best part of mankind and over chaos.
6. Sarakiel, one of the holy angels, who is set over the spirits, who sin in the spirit.
7. Gabriel, one of the holy angels, who is over Paradise and the serpents and the Cherubim.
8. Remiel, one of the holy angels, whom God set over those who rise
.
—The Book of Enoch 20:1–8
THE CHRISTIAN HIERARCHY OF ANGELS
First Sphere—Angels who function as guardians of God’s throne
• Seraphim
• Cherubim
• Ophanim/Thrones/Wheels (Erelim)
Second Sphere—Angels who function as governors
• Dominions/Leaders (Hashmallim)
• Virtues
• Powers/Authorities
Third Sphere—Angels who function as messengers and soldiers
• Principalities/Rules
• Archangels
• Angels (Malakhim)
ABBREVIATED PLAYLIST (in no particular order)
“Killing in the Name of”—Rage Against the Machine
“Blasphemous Rumors”—Depeche Mode
“California Love”—Tupac
“Carry on Wayward Son”—Kansas
“Dead or Alive”—Bon Jovi
More extras at www.sjday.net
AUTHOR’S NOTE
There are some projects in an author’s career that are inspired. The Marked series is definitely that for me. Eve came to me like Athena of Greek mythology, springing from my head fully armed and prepared for battle. Her story was then expanded upon by random synchronicities. I won’t attempt an explanation for how often random events offered prompts and clues at the exact moment I needed them, but I’m grateful.
Residents of Huntington Beach and Anaheim will note that I took creative license with locations. The fictional Henry’s Ice Cream shop is located where Lorenzo’s Pizza used to be on the corner of Cerritos and Euclid. Both the Circle K and Lorenzo’s are gone now, leaving a hole in my life that only Lorenzo’s pastrami sandwiches could fill.
St. Mary’s Church as described in the Marked series is nothing like the actual St. Mary’s by the Sea, which is located in a different part of the city and is much smaller and older. My St. Mary’s more closely resembles Saint Vincent de Paul in some aspects of appearance and location, but it’s fictional in every way.
I’ve taken other liberties with my beloved hometown area. Locals will spot them; non-locals won’t care. I hope you enjoyed the story in either case!
Turn the page for an excerpt from
EVE of DESTRUCTION
S. J. Day
Available June 2009
A TOR PAPERBACK
ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-6042-7 ISBN-10: 0-7653-6042-X
* * *
Copyright © 2009 by Sylvia Day
CHAPTER 1
Evangeline Hollis woke to the scents of Hell—fire and brimstone, smoke and ashes.
Her nostrils flared in protest. She lay on her back, unmoving, willing her brain to catch up with her circumstances. Licking her lips, she tasted death, the bitterness coating both her tongue and her mouth in a thick, immovable wash. Her muscles shifted in an attempt to stretch and a groan escaped her.
What the hell? The last thing she remembered was . . .
. . . being burned to a crisp by a dragon.
Panic assailed her with the memory, quickly followed by her mind lurching into full awareness. Eve jackknifed up from her sprawled position, sucking in air with such force it was audible. She blinked, but only inky darkness filled her vision. Her hand reached up to her arm and her fingertips found the raised brand there. The Mark of Cain—a triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it. The eye of God filled the center.
The mark burned whenever she took the Lord’s name in vain—which was often—and whenever she lied, which was a little less often but useful on occasion. When dealing with Satan’s minions, playing dirty leveled the playing field.
Where the fuck am I? In her upright position, the smoky stench in the air was magnified. Her nose wrinkled.
Maybe I’m in Hell? As a longtime agnostic, she still struggled with facing the reality of God. Heaven, Hell, souls . . . They were concepts that couldn’t be explained with reason.
Besides, if there was a merciful God and a Heaven, she’d be there. She had only been cursed with the Mark of Cain for six weeks, and she hadn’t yet been properly trained in how to kill Infernals, but during that short time she had eradicated a tengu infestation, killed a Nix, and managed to vanquish a dragon. She’d also helped to put a lid on a major new threat to the good guys—a concoction of some sort that allowed Infernals to temporarily hide in the guise of mere mortals. And she’d managed to get Cain and Abel to work together for the first time since they were kids.
If all that wasn’t enough to save her soul, she would take her chances with the Devil. Maybe he’d have a better sense of fair play.
As Eve’s mind struggled to catch up with her present circumstances, the sound of singing penetrated the fog of her thoughts. She couldn’t understand a word, but it was familiar all the same. The language was Japanese; the voice, her mother’s.
The idea of sharing Hell with her mother was oddly both comforting and chilling.
And look for Eve of Chaos,
on sale June 30, 2009.
