“Police reports filed on the last murder. I was hoping we could find any evidence of the getaway, but there doesn’t seem to be any. The guy just…vanished. Besides, it happened in the middle of the night, so there weren’t any witnesses.”
“Sounds supernatural to me. Speaking of which…” I bit my bottom lip and cleared my throat in anticipation of the difficult oncoming sentence.
“Belial contacted me.”
Michael went still, staring at me with a mixture of anger and worry etched into his face. “When? How?”
“Last night, in a…dream.” I fought to keep a straight face. The memory of the demon’s mouth on my skin made guilt rise up inside me, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.
The archangel closed his eyes. “What did he want?”
“He said he wanted to report that the murderer is not a demon. None of them are under orders to harm Seers.”
“He expects us to believe that? We have no reason to trust what he says.”
“True, but he does have a point. It’s got to be an angel gone rogue. Nothing else adds up. How’s the search in Heaven going?”
“Not well. We’ve had a league of angels pouring through the roster for months and it’s still not finished. We can’t exactly call them all in, either. Many of them are deployed in dangerous areas or are on important missions. We’re going to have to find another way to locate this guy.”
I stood up, scooping my shirt off the chair where it dangled. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe we’re not looking in the right place.”
“What do you mean?”
I pulled on my shirt, gathering my thoughts as I did. “How do angels and demons enter the human world?”
“The Doors. There are two of them—one for angels and one for demons. They have to pass through in spirit form and into bodies engineered by what we call Puppeteers. Without a body, the spirit will fade back into the void between Heaven and Earth or Hell and Earth. Since we don’t know who the angel is, it would be useless to ask our Puppeteer if they gave him a body.”
“Wait a second. What if he used the Demons’ Door?”
“What?”
“Think about it. If he didn’t want us to figure out what he looked like, then he would enter through the Demons’ Door so we couldn’t trace it back to our side.”
“But that would mean that the demons would know who he is. Why would Belial contact you if he already knew what the rogue angel looks like? And why wouldn’t he tell you that?”
“Maybe he was trying to drop a hint. Maybe he needs our help to stop him. He told me that demons wouldn’t kill a Seer because they’re too valuable. He might have the information, but that doesn’t mean he has the means to catch the rogue angel. We should be able to get a picture or something.”
“We’d have to ask him to get in contact with their Puppeteer.”
“Why can’t we do it ourselves?”
He frowned at me. “We can’t see the Puppeteer without an archdemon present. She won’t talk to us alone. We’ve tried it before.”
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “Let me guess—the only archdemon on Earth right now is Belial?”
“Naturally.”
“That’s why he contacted me. He probably knew that we’d come to this conclusion sooner or later. Bastard.”
Michael stood and then touched my shoulders. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. There might be another way.”
“We’re already running out of time. We’re gonna have to find him and ask him to take us to the Puppeteer.”
“It won’t come cheap.”
“Nothing ever does.”
My husband exhaled and then reached for his cell phone. “I’ll contact Gabriel. He should be able to get us a location soon.”
“Great.” I grabbed the caramel apple on the table and unwrapped it. Truthfully, I wasn’t hungry—I just needed a sweet distraction. That cold knot from before burrowed into my guts and stuck there like a chewed up wad of gum on the bottom of a desk. Everything in me did not want a reunion with Belial, but I knew it would have to happen. If I wanted to save the future Seers of the world, I would have to make a sacrifice. Somewhere, Belial was whetting a knife for me and preparing for the feast.
Eat well, you son of a bitch.
Chapter 5
Jordan
“YOU’RE NOT STUPID enough to not call for back up if you get in over your head, are you?” Michael asked, staring into my eyes as if he could tell what I was thinking.
I kept my voice playful to disguise my growing anxiety. “Do you think I am?”
“You really don’t want me to answer that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then don’t ask rhetorical questions. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
He leaned down and pressed a short but sweet kiss to my lips that made me feel just a tiny bit calmer. “You’d better be.”
I nodded to Gabriel before stepping out of the car, instantly swallowed by the cool darkness of night. I waited for traffic to pass and jogged across the street, muttering sarcastic comments to myself as I went.
“It’s no biggie. You’re just strolling into a club full of demons with no backup. Big deal. People do it all the time.”
The Morsel was a nightclub in Queensbury. Gabriel had done some digging to find Belial’s most recent public appearances in the New York area and they were primarily at this place. It was a nest for demons, a safe haven, if you don’t mind the irony. They let some humans in “for fun” but it was mostly the Fallen that populated its insides. Lucky me.
The doors to the club were blood red, a color not lost on me considering my background with the fallen angels, and there was a sinewy black man wearing a frown standing outside with a clipboard. The line wrapped around the side of the street like a snake, bristling with new activity as the demons spotted me walking towards the entrance. When I was close, the black guy arched one thick eyebrow at me.
“Can I help you?”
“I need to get in,” I said without any malice or fear. It took quite a lot of effort, to be honest.
An arrogant smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. “First of all, there’s a line, and second of all, I doubt you really want in. They’d eat you alive.”
My smile widened. Ah, yes, that familiar feeling of annoyance. Right up my alley. “I can clearly see the line but thanks for pointing it out. The reason you’re going to let me in is that I’m relatively sure your boss wouldn’t be thrilled if you turned me away.”
He snorted. “And who’s my boss?”
“Belial.”
When I spoke the demon’s name, the bouncer’s smirk withered, replaced with a serious but contemplative look. “Name?”
“Jordan Amador.”
His brown eyes grew large. Well, well. He did know who I was. “Prove it.”
I stared. “What do you mean prove it?”
“Word on the street is that you’ve managed to send Belial and Mulciber home with their tails tucked between their legs on two separate occasions. It’s hard to think a little thing like you can do that kind of damage, if you don’t mind me saying.”
I sighed. He had a point, but it was still an incredible nuisance. “Fine. What kind of proof do you want? I don’t have a driver’s license, but I have ID.”
The bouncer shook his head. “Papers can be forged. I want to see the scar.”
I went still. “The scar?”
“The scar the Spear made. Then you can go in.” His gaze didn’t waver on mine. Several feelings boiled in my gut: anger, humiliation, and defiance, but none of them would help me get into this joint so I stuffed them all down. I yanked the neckline of my shirt downward to expose the mound of scar tissue over my heart. He let out a low whistle and stepped aside, opening the door amongst the groans of jealousy from the people in line.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Seer.”
Pulsing music surrounded me in an instant as I walked up the stairs—also tastefully done in crimson—that led to t
he main part of the building. It served as both a bar and a dance club. There were black lacquered tables everywhere with people seated at them and a huge hardwood dance floor in the middle. Behind it stood a stage where there were four men in tuxedos: two at microphones, one on the drums, and one on a white guitar. I stopped when I reached the top of the steps, glancing around at my harrowing surroundings. The bar was along the left wall, crowded with demons clamoring for drinks, but there was another staircase leading to a basement to the far right. I tried to ignore the pounding chorus of the Kills song the band played telling me that I was a fever.
I let my energy flow out of me and fill the club, distantly aware the demons were whispering to each other about my presence but ignoring it. Finally, I felt a fiery energy coming from the basement. It had to be him.
I maneuvered my way past the tables near the basement staircase. I felt the gaze of every single demon as I walked, locked on my solitary form like lions watching a lamb. The key was not so much acting like they didn’t scare me but rather acting like they wouldn’t bother me. They were naturally suspicious of my presence because of the rumors and because I wouldn’t have just wandered in here for no reason. They were cautious predators.
To my utter shock, there wasn’t a huge, intimidating man at the next set of double doors but a little girl no more than twelve or thirteen years old with chestnut hair and lifeless green eyes. She was at least seven inches shorter than me and held a clear clipboard in her pale hands.
I cleared my throat, trying to disguise my surprise as I spoke. “Hi. I’m looking for Belial.”
“He’s busy,” she answered without batting an eyelash. Creepy.
“I’m sure he is, but I get the feeling he might be interested in seeing me if you let him know I’m here.”
She gave me a very bored once-over. “I’m not so sure about that.”
That stung. I brushed past it anyway. “Could you check? Please?”
The girl continued staring at me before touching her earpiece. “I’ve got a Seer here that wants to see the Master. Should I let her in?”
A muffled voice on the end replied. She lowered her hand to the door and pushed it open, nodding for me to go in. “Knock twice when you want out…if you make it that far.”
“Thanks, Sunshine,” I deadpanned, brushing past her. This hallway was long and dimly lit with concrete steps and bare walls, but the noise was entirely different. I heard the distant rumble of chanting as I walked, squinting as I tried to see what lay at the end of the hall.
When I reached the archway, I could see stadium seating all centered around a raised arena with a rusted metal cage over the top like a wrestling match. There were two men locked in a vicious fistfight, hurtling each other from one end to the other. I wondered what the hell was going on when one man slammed into the side of the cage nearest to me, and then I saw it—a long curtain of jet-black hair. Belial.
Just as I recognized him, he raised his head and looked over his shoulder right into my eyes, slowly smirking as he realized it was me. Seeing that smirk in person after so many months made the skin on my arms crawl.
He straightened up just as the other man ran at him, his fist cocked. With inhuman speed, he whirled around and shoved his palm into the man’s nose, breaking it. The man hit the floor howling in pain and clutching his face. The spectators went wild, their voices eventually melding into one terrifying chant of, “BEL! BEL! BEL! BEL!”
The demon strolled over to one end of the cage and one of his associates unlocked the door, letting him out. He hopped off the stage and crooked a finger at me without turning around. I took a deep breath and followed him up the steps of the stadium to an office.
The chanting stopped as soon as I closed the door, meaning these walls were sound proof. Of course they were. Shit. I couldn’t dwell on this fact for long because Belial spoke, catching my attention.
“Well, well, well. Jordan Amador. I never expected to see you darkening my doorstep.”
I squared my shoulders and turned, intent on being firm and cold with him, but then my eyes fell across his bare chest and words died in my throat.
I hadn’t seen the result of the angel feather I’d once plunged into Belial’s chest until now. It was ghastly. The skin over his heart rippled with brown burn marks and nearly bisected his abs, starting at the shoulder and dripping down to his bellybutton. It looked almost shiny in the dim light, meaning that his human body had tried its best to heal the damage but probably never would.
Belial caught my gaze, flashing me a brief smirk. “Admiring your handiwork, I see?”
“That’s not—”
“You don’t have to make excuses. You should be proud. No one’s ever managed to mark up one of my human bodies to quite this extent.” He walked over to his desk where a fresh towel had been laid. He began drying off the sweat and blood from his upper body, which was mildly distracting for reasons I didn’t want to admit to myself and probably never would.
I crossed my arms beneath my chest, making sure to keep my voice level so that Gabriel and Michael could hear our conversation. “Why don’t you just get another one?”
“For the same reason you still have your scar. A memento, as it were.”
I frowned. “It’s not the same thing. I keep this to remind myself how dangerous and evil your kind is. You keep yours because you’re vain.”
He chuckled—a dry sound that made the skin along my spine prickle. “Perhaps.”
Now blood-free, he tossed the towel aside and walked towards me. I dropped my arms as adrenaline pumped through my veins in an instant, preparing me for a fight. He couldn’t touch me because my soul was bound to Michael’s, making me too pure for any demon to withstand bare contact, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to make a pass at me anyway.
I made a small sound of alarm when my back hit the door, not noticing that I’d retreated so far. Belial stopped mere inches in front of me, placing one hand on the door to trap me against it. I wished very badly for my gun because I had almost forgotten his annoying habit of invading my personal space.
“To what do I owe the tremendous honor of your presence?” Belial asked, rooting me in the spot with his reptilian gaze. “Did you miss me? Is your sex life with the angel less than satisfactory?”
I glared up at him. “Even if it was, I doubt I’d be coming to you.”
He let out a short bark of laughter, startling me again. “So you say. But here it is, a year later, and you’re once again in my presence. Admit it, Seer. You need me.”
“Go to hell,” I spat.
He flashed me that poisonous smile again. “A little late for that. Now why don’t you tell me what brings you and your little angel brigade to my doorstep?”
“How did you—”
Belial snorted, looking as if he were insulted. “Like they’d really send you in alone to see me. I’m not an idiot.”
He yanked my duster aside to reveal the tiny microphone clipped to the inside of the lapel. Damn. “You’re losing your touch, Prince of Heaven’s Army. Though I must admit I appreciate the gift of seeing my dear sweet Jordan again. Perhaps we’ll make this an overnight stay—”
I jerked the cloth out of his hands. “That’s enough.”
He rose to full height, shrugging one shoulder. “Very well. What do you want with me, Seer? Other than my charming smile and rapier wit, of course.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re here about the rogue angel. We think he had a human body engineered to keep us from tracking him. We suspect he didn’t use one of ours and so that means he had to have used one of yours. You’re the only one privy to that information and that’s why I’m here.”
The arrogance and amusement slid aside to reveal a pensive expression. “So you want to know if my Puppeteer made him a body?”
“Yes.”
He scrutinized me for a long moment and then walked back to his desk. “What will I get in return if I surrender this information?”
I
took a deep breath, forcing the words out of my mouth. “What do you want?”
He tilted his head, making his long hair cascade towards the left side of his face. The movement seemed perfect, almost like he practiced it in front of a mirror. He probably had, the vain bastard.
“A favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
Belial leaned his backside against the desk and propped his hands on its surface. The small movement drew more attention to his chest. I ignored it now that I was sure he was doing it on purpose.
“I don’t know yet. But one day, I will call on you and you will answer.”
I shook my head. “No way. That’s too vague. I’m not going into this agreement blind.”
He nodded. “Very well. Let me ask you this first: what do you intend to do if I am able to help you locate this rogue angel?”
“We’re going to find him and stop him before he can kill anyone else.”
“Stop him, you say?”
I nodded. A devious look flickered across his eyes. “Will you kill him?”
That stopped me in my tracks. I paused, brushing the hair out of my face in a nervous gesture. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought about it.
“I…don’t know. If it comes to that, maybe.”
“Then may I suggest I throw my hat in the ring? Let me come with you to kill the angel.”
I went still, shocked by the request. “What?”
He crossed his arms. “You cannot imagine the amount of satisfaction I will gain from killing one of God’s personal soldiers. I’ll accept that as my payment.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Out of the question.”
Belial shrugged again. “Fine. Then be on your way, Seer, because there are no other terms I will accept.”
My phone buzzed inside my pocket. I reached for it, holding up a finger to the demon and turning my back on him as I answered.
“Hello?”
“Tell me you’re not considering his offer,” Michael said, his voice hard with anger.
“What other choices do we have?”
“I’m not sure,” Gabriel chimed in. “We can continue the investigation regardless of Belial’s assistance, but we still do not have a description of the angel and it will be that much harder to find him.”
Paranormal After Dark Page 212
