“Wow.” I gawked like a hick at an RV convention as we entered the building. It was like we’d traveled back in time to 1916—the year the award-winning, historic hotel was built. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from impossibly high ceilings. Light sparkled from the giant fixtures, gleaming off the marble floor so that the whole place felt like a glamorous movie set.
My hard-soled boots clicked across the tile as we passed the elegant seating arrangements on either side. Huge, high-backed couches with deep, quilted upholstery and matching chairs were set around glossy wooden tables, all very reminiscent of the early 1900s. Gigantic gilded arches were everywhere, all filled with bronzed ironwork and glass windows. There were decorative balconies with thick balustrades and polished railings and cream-colored walls set off by a splash of green foliage. Wow was the best way to describe it.
We passed through without a word toward the reception counter, a grand piano in the far corner setting our march to music. Employees in pressed, black suit jackets and starched white shirts busily raced back and forth behind the counter. I zeroed in on the one girl who’d stopped to work in front of a computer.
“Excuse me.” The girl—probably twenty-three or twenty-four, glanced up at me, her face already bright with a smile.
“Hello. Welcome to the Omni William Penn, how can I help you?” She rattled off the greeting in a quick, practiced cadence. I’d bet money she said it in her sleep. Her good cheer reached all the way to her doe-like eyes as though she genuinely liked her job. Lucky her.
Her gold-plated name tag read Tammie Colby, and I tried to match her cheeriness. It was a stretch, but I could manage it for a few minutes. “Hi. I’m looking for Gertrude Newberry. Do you know if she’s working today?”
“Oh.” Tammie’s enviable smile dimmed, round eyes glancing back and forth among the three of us. “I’m so sorry, but we don’t really give out that sort of information. May I ask why you’re looking for Gertrude?”
Dan reached in his back pocket for his wallet and flashed Tammie his badge. “Officer Wysocki. I spoke with Miss Newberry on the phone and she agreed to answer some questions. This is Miss Hellsbane. She’s, uh, she’s with me.”
Tammie nodded like she understood, though her expression belied the gesture. She looked at Fred. “And you are?”
“None of your concern,” he said.
“He’s undercover…as a drug dealer.” I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh…”
She did the same Ooohhh…I get it—not really nod before her smile returned full-watt. “Well, I guess if it’s official police business…”
I could almost feel Dan cringe beside me. He hadn’t said it was official business and I knew a part of him prickled wanting to set the record straight. Thankfully he kept his mouth shut.
Tammie’s gaze fell to the computer behind the counter. Her bouncy, rich, brown ponytail slipped around to brush her cheek and I glanced at Fred to see if he’d noticed. He had.
Angels don’t learn by watching the way humans do. They learn by experiencing. And the best way for Fred to learn what I felt when I sensed a gibborim was to feel it himself. Basically, that meant he had to be tapped into my mind 24/7. The flipside of that was I’d somehow tapped into his mind too. No one understood how I was doing it—including me. It was supposed to be an angel thing, bonding their minds and spirits so they were practically one being. Although, when there are millions of you, it’s easy to ignore the din of everyone’s thoughts and emotions, even lose track of any one angel. For me, there was just Fred.
Whatever. I’d done it and Fred was pretty pissed about it. Not that hearing his thoughts and feeling the wild swings of his libido were the stuff of my dreams either. But at least I knew for sure, despite his uppity attitude, that Fred was just as susceptible to the charms of humans—especially female humans—as any angel.
Thoughts raced through his head—and mine—lingering on the color of her lips, the glow of her skin, the curves of her body. His heart surged and he clenched his jaw, tucking his hands under each arm and fisting them as though he was holding himself back. Apparently, the hypocritical seraph preferred brunettes.
Tammie’s smile brightened. “Yes. She’s here today.” Her long lashes lifted with her gaze. “I can have her come down in a few minutes to speak with you, if you’d like.”
“Perfect. Thanks,” I said, trying to match her sweetness. It just wasn’t me.
She picked up the phone, and Dan and I turned to find an out of the way place to wait. Fred followed several seconds later…after he’d realized we’d walked away.
We took the two striped armchairs nearby and Fred stood sentry behind mine. The second my butt hit the deep, cushioned chair my stomach dropped. I recognized the sensation instantly—knew what it was, or more importantly what it wasn’t.
I looked over my shoulder at Fred, but the angel was already standing straighter, scanning the lobby like a birddog scenting fowl.
“It’s not a gibborim,” I said.
Fred didn’t stop his scan to look at me. “I know.”
The sensation was the same as I’d felt any time another nephilim was near. But there was more this time—a buzzing in my chest that vibrated through my veins, tingling all the way to my fingers and toes. It was a wild kind of power, and I’d only ever felt it once before—last year at the religious conference. It was the feel of an unmarked power. And Fred had felt it too.
I sensed more than saw him tense behind me, as if in preparation to move, and I shifted in my chair to see him. “It’s not what you’re looking for.”
Fred’s brows creased and I could almost see his white eyes behind the dark glasses zeroing in on the lady across the lobby. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, fit and pretty. She had short, dark hair that curled under her chin and brushed the collar of her airy, black summer blouse. Matched with dress slacks and pointy-toed boots, the woman’s smart-fitting outfit made me think businesswoman rather than stay-at-home mom.
She was the one. I knew it the moment she glanced my way, her blue eyes connecting with mine—the same queasiness tightening her face. She’d probably gone to the religious conference last year and had her angelic half awakened. Most likely she didn’t have a clue what it meant, or what Rifion had done to her. One thing I did know was her wild, unfocused power meant she wasn’t a gibborim.
Her pace quickened, instincts likely warning her of a danger she couldn’t possibly understand. She made it into the hall, turning the corner for the elevator, and moving out of sight.
I stood. “You’re only here for gibborim,” I said, sensing Fred’s heightening interest.
His attention flicked to me. “I am here for whatever reason I choose, nephilim.” And just like that he was gone.
Crap. I glanced at Dan. “I’ll be right back.”
He frowned. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t take time to explain. I had to catch up with Fred before he did something irrevocably stupid. My power surged with my will, and time folded over space. The world blurred, and I drew my sword, calling the blade to form as I took a step. My next landed me in the moving elevator just in time to block the angel’s sword from cutting through the lady’s neck.
Seeing me appear between them, Fred pulled his blow at the last instant. The impact still drove me to my ass, the force vibrating through my bones and knocking the air out of my lungs. I fell back on the woman cowering behind me, ignoring her frantic sobs as I scrambled to my feet.
“What the hell are you doing?” I blasted at him.
“Stand aside,” he said with a wave of his sword. “Her power has been awakened. She is unmarked. This makes her a danger to humanity,” he said.
The woman latched her arms around my legs. “Please help me. Get me out of here. Please. He said he’s going to kill me.”
I glanced down at her. Tears smeared black mascara lines down her cheeks. “You’re fine. He’s not going to hurt you.”
Fred shoved back the hood of his jacket and p
ulled the sunglasses off his face. The woman gasped and huddled into the corner. “You cannot save her, Emma Jane.”
“You were only supposed to go after gibborim. She hasn’t done anything wrong. You can’t just kill her.”
“I can. Her angelic half has been awakened—”
“I know. You said that. But she’s still…she’s still human. She’s still innocent.”
“She is not,” he said. “She is sullied by her angelic blood. Her power is unfocused, corruptible. As she is, she is vulnerable to the seduction of Fallen and demons alike. We cannot allow such a weapon to wander freely among humans.”
The woman lost it, screaming, and shaking her head. “No!”
I shifted over, walling my body between the angel and the poor, sobbing woman. I wobbled, trying to keep my balance with the lady grabbing at me like a life raft. “You can’t do this, Fred. I mean, who are you to pass judgment on her?”
Fred’s creepy, light eyes flicked to me—his face deadly serious. “I am a member of the Council’s envoy. This is my duty.”
“Oh.” Damn. I hated it when people stump me with the facts. “Well, even if she did know what she was doing, she’s still human. Eli said you’re not allowed to punish humans.”
“She is half human,” he said. “And the humanity that lies within her has been forever corrupted by her angelic blood. Father’s love of humanity cannot protect her.”
“I’m only half human,” I reminded him.
“Yes. But you use your corruption in defense of our Father. This is why I am offering you a chance to move from harm’s way before I strike. However, the offer is not without an expiration point.”
My throat closed and I swallowed hard. “Don’t do this, Fraciel. I didn’t agree to this. She’s not a gibborim; she just made a stupid mistake.”
I thought momentarily that my calling him by his real name had made an impact, but then he blinked and said, “She is not gibborim yet. But it is she and others like her from whence gibborim are made. Wisdom dictates that we strike our enemy at their weakest moment, before they realize their full strength. She must be put down. Step aside.”
“No.” I raised my chin. “That wasn’t the deal. I agreed to teach you how to sense gibborim. No one else. I’m not going to let you slaughter people because of what they might do.”
The tall angel sighed and rolled his shoulders in elegant regret. “So be it.”
Faster than I could reason, the seraph raised a hand to me and swung it sideways, mentally swatting me across the small compartment. I crashed into the brass elevator doors with an oath. The breath punched out of me, and I crumpled to the floor.
My brain spun and for an instant time seemed to stop, creeping forward horror-movie slow. Fred’s angelic sword sailed in a wide arch toward the woman on the floor, her mouth stretched open in a soundless scream.
I couldn’t move fast enough to stop him. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough even if I could. But just before his sword met the woman’s throat, another sword materialized to collide with Fred’s, and out of nowhere Eli’s body stood protectively between the avenging angel and his target.
In one quick move Eli parried and attacked, driving the other angel away. Fred slammed into the brass railing. As fast as the action started, it stopped, as though one of them called a mental timeout.
“Interfering again, Elizal?” Fred straightened, tugging the bottom of his jacket and lowering his sword to his side.
“Stopping you from making a grave error. This woman is not a gibborim. She can still be saved,” Eli said.
“Can she be saved? Perhaps. Should she be saved? Wisdom suggests not. I think you do not grasp the severity of the situation. These gibborim have already bested magisters. With angelic swords it is conceivable for them to move on all seraphim, on the Council itself. They must be stopped. All of them, including those who possess the mere potential.”
“That’s not your call, Fraciel. You were given leave to destroy the gibborim only. The others, potential or not, are to be left unharmed.” He turned and strode back to the woman, reaching a hand out to her. “I can save you, but in return you must sacrifice some of the life you now know. You must dedicate yourself and your power to making amends for the sin of your existence. Do you agree?”
I wanted to scream at the lady, Don’t do it! Don’t do it! But I knew it was the only way. She was a loose cannon the way she was. Either Eli would let her be marked as an illorum, or the demon Bariel would eventually mark her as a gibborim. I liked to think she’d live longer as an illorum once she took and used the sword Eli would give her.
The woman blinked up at him, her gaze flicking from his hand to his face and back again. After a few tense seconds she reached out and slipped her hand into his.
“Another female?” Fred asked.
“Another nephilim,” Eli countered and a spike of jealousy squeezed my chest. I breathed through it, knowing it was wrong in so many ways. He tucked the shocked woman under his arm and looked at me. “Your business meeting is waiting in the lobby. Good luck.”
“Very well, Elizal, take her,” Fred said, as if he had a say in it. “But this matter is not resolved. I will rejoin you shortly, Emma Jane.”
The next instant, Eli vanished with the girl under his arm and half a heartbeat later Fred disappeared too. The elevator lurched into motion again—I hadn’t even realized it had stopped. A warning bell dinged just as the shiny doors slid open and a collective sigh hissed over the crowd clogging the hallway outside.
“Finally,” someone said followed by other mumbled agreements.
Dan pushed to the front. “Emma, are you okay?”
I stepped out and let him lead me through the crush of people. “Yeah. What happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said.
I shrugged. “Oh. Nothing. I mean, well, you know…” I leaned in to him and whispered, “Angels. But it’s taken care of. Did Gertrude show up?”
“Yeah. She’s over here.” We crossed the glimmering lobby to the striped chairs and Fred who’d already teleported to where we’d been waiting.
Gertrude Newberry was not what I expected. By the name I’d pictured a wrinkled sixty-year-old shuffling around in a maid’s uniform struggling to make ends meet in the same job she’d held for the past thirty years. I mean, who gets ahead with a name like Gertrude?
The shapely, thirtysomething woman in a formfitting business dress and red-soled, black heels, was not a person who should be named Gertrude. Lara Croft? Maybe. Attila the Hun? For sure. But Gertrude? Hell no. She wielded the clipboard and walkie-talkie in her hands like a sword and shield.
“Miss Newberry?” Dan said and the woman turned, removing her designer glasses in a graceful, sexy move she’d probably practiced.
A warm wash of desire rolled through me and it took a half beat before I realized it was coming from Dan. I glanced from him to Gertrude and back again and my belly soured. I clenched my jaw, biting back anger, and turned my full attention on Attila the Gertrude. Jealousy’s so not my color, but I hadn’t been prepared for competition.
“It’s Miss,” she said. She wore her caramel-brown hair in a tight bun at the crown of her head and just enough makeup to soften the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her lipstick was understated, her eye shadow a perfect complement to her hazel eyes, and her cheekbones were high enough to make any model envious.
“Sorry,” Dan said, grinning before throwing me a sheepish glance. He cleared his throat, flattening his flirty expression. “Ms. Newberry is the hotel’s events manager, among other things.”
“Hi, Ms. Newberry,” I said, maturely offering my hand. “I’m Emma Hellsbane.”
She shook hands like a teamster—short, strong, then release. “Yes. Officer Wysocki said you hoped I could identify someone in a photo?”
“Right.” I dug the picture from my back pocket, unfolding it to show her. “This man. I know it’s blurry, and it would’ve been like
, twenty-four years ago.”
She flinched from looking at the picture to stare at me. “How old do you think I am?”
“Oh. No. I realize you weren’t working here at the time. But I thought maybe he was still around when you started, or, I don’t know, maybe you have a record of former employees you can check.”
She leaned over the photo again, slipping her glasses back on and studying it for another few seconds. She straightened. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think he was ever an employee. But I can tell you where he did work.”
“How?”
She pointed at the photo, and the bright orange tag he wore on a lanyard around his neck. “I recognize that ID color. We host a lot of events for different companies. That’s the one the Bedford Conglomerate uses.”
“Bedford?” The name was familiar and I looked to Fred, trying to remember where I’d heard it.
As though he’d listened to the question in my thoughts he said, “Perhaps Elizal mentioned the name in association with his, uh…student…Joan.”
I shuffled through information and memories filed away in my brain. Joan of Arc—Eli had told me a Fallen calling himself the Duke of Bedford was responsible for her torture and death. But that’s not where I’d heard the name last. Where was it?
Then it hit me. Last year on the island of Capri, Italy, Eli had walked a thin line between invested observer and interference when he’d teleported me out of reach of an attacking demon horde. They’d been posing as Bedford Company employees on a business a trip.
But before he whisked me to safety Eli had said that he’d recognized the Fallen with them acting as the company’s CEO. He knew him only by the human persona he’d adopted when they’d first met—John of Lancaster, first Duke of Bedford.
The Bedford Company. The Duke of Bedford. Could this be a picture of the fallen angel who’d killed Joan of Arc? Was my angelic father—the angel I’d spent the past year searching for—the same Fallen who’d allowed Eli the precious seconds he needed to save my life last summer? But why?
Hellsbane 02 - Heaven and Hellsbane Page 18
