Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “I don’t require much sleep.” His lips pressed together. “Jordan, I’m leaving for a while.” He seemed guarded, as if he knew she wouldn’t understand. “But you’ll have protection.”

  “What’d you mean you’re leaving for a while?”

  “Unprecedented occurrences have unfolded. It’s necessary for the Powers to convene.”

  “Unprecedented occurrences, like what?”

  Markus gritted his teeth, nullifying his anger. “I can’t say. Not now.”

  “Oh?”

  “Get some sleep,” he said, flexing his fingers. He retreated until she could no longer see him.

  Too sleepy to absorb more, her head sank to the pillow.

  EM, HENRY, JORDAN, and Seeley lounged around the Christmas tree, admiring their handiwork. With the holidays just around the corner, the family had spent the past couple of days on last minute details.

  “One more week, and then no school for almost two weeks.” Jordan lay on the couch with her hands behind her head. Content, she wore sweat pants and a robe. She refused to dress, citing that it was nearly vacation, time to vegetate.

  “I wish I could say the same,” said a pensive Seeley. “A week off with nothing to do but put my feet up and rest would be just what the doctor ordered.” She looked at her daughter. “Exams come before vacation, so get studying.”

  “Thanks for putting a damper on my frame of mind.”

  “You kids have it easy nowadays,” Henry added with a grin. “Not like when Em and I were young. I’d rise at the break of dawn because the house was freezing, and during Christmas vacation, I’d spend my days shoveling coal in the chute. And shoveling the driveway and sidewalks, and all that was before my father left for work. I walked to school in all kinds of weather. My parents didn’t have an extra car to cart my butt all over the place.”

  “Yeah, Dad,” Seeley said full of cynicism. “And you’d walk ten miles in a blinding snowstorm, uphill—going and coming, right?” She turned to Jordan. “We’ve heard this story before.”

  She snickered.

  The house phone rang, and Em grabbed the cordless on the end table. “Seeley, it’s for you.” She covered the mouthpiece and mouthed, “It’s a man.”

  All ears perked up, listening to Seeley’s dialogue. After a minute or so, she banged the receiver, grumbling under her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Em asked.

  “That was Asa Trebane.”

  “Isn’t Trebane that despicable man Jack lived with when he was young?” Henry’s craggy face cringed. “The one who was responsible for his death?”

  “Yes, but remember, it was never substantiated.” Seeley collapsed on the couch next to Jordan. “The police said the house where Jack was killed had been vacant for years. And, go figure, Asa had a solid alibi. The detective thought I was psychotic as soon as I mentioned The Black Order and human sacrifice. I had to keep my mouth shut. They were ready to lock me away.”

  “With your affiliation in the media, isn’t there some way to expose this man?” Henry rubbed his hand over his chest. “I shouldn’t call him a man. He’s more like a devil.”

  “Asa’s one of the affluent untouchables,” Seeley explained, compressing her hands between her knees. “He’s right when he boasts that money rules. Asa has legitimate corporations around the world and illicit organizations overseen by his colleagues. He’s a puppet master and a powerful evil mystic.”

  “Why is this dreadful man bothering you?” Em’s cheeks turned rosy, and her eyes darted around the room as if Lucifer might appear at any given moment. The topic of the devil distressed her.

  Seeley caught Jordan’s warning eyebrow lift. She didn’t have the courage to tell her parents about Asa’s sordid offer. “The paper wants me to interview him for a feature article.” She wasn’t fabricating. Declan had been on her case for weeks to finish the assignment.

  “Nasty business,” grumped Henry. “What the paper won’t do for an exclusive.”

  Just then, the doorbell pealed. Jordan ran and opened the door to a frosty, teeth chattering Father James. “Jordan, may I speak with your mom?”

  “Sure. C’mon in, Father.”

  He stamped snow-caked boots on the porch before stepping inside.

  Henry ambled over to the priest and pumped his gloved hand. “So nice to see you, Father James.”

  “You, too, Henry and Emily.” Seeing Seeley, he asked, “May I speak to you?”

  “While you’re here, could you bless the house again?” Henry asked. “It’s been years.”

  “Yes, Henry, that’s a good idea.”

  Father James, wringing cold hands, followed Seeley into the kitchen. He seemed to have no energy, and his shoulders sloped as if he bore a heavy burden. Falling onto the chair, the priest sighed heavily.

  “You’re not well, Father?” Seeley asked, concerned.

  With a flick of his wrist, Father James dismissed her worry.

  She switched on the burner to heat a kettle of water.

  “Did you hear what happened in Kansas, in Osage County?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t heard from them since I left weeks ago.” By the tone of his voice, it was bad news. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  “It’s been hushed-up. They’ve had unusual decapitations.” Squinting his eyes and rumpling his mouth, his head moved side to side. “Bishop Stevenson wired me yesterday. Tragic, tragic.”

  “Decapitations?”

  “Yes. People are sawing off their own heads.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Gory. They found—”

  Seeley plastered her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know the specifics.” Fetching two mugs and tea bags, she poured the boiling water and handed one to her priest.

  “People are misguided,” Father James said. “Led astray by meritocracy and the pursuit of wealth. They fall, body and soul, into the darkness of self-love.” He placed his hand over the rim of the steaming water. “The atrocities are widespread. Be vigilant, always on guard.” He smiled a thank you as she set the mug in front of him.

  “I’ve ordered another one hundred copies of Jack’s book to be printed.” Lifting his hunched shoulders, he sat straighter. “Religious bookstores are selling out and are asking for more. I see this as a good sign. We need people to be informed. They mustn’t put on blinders nor be indolent of the awful truth.”

  “Father, I’ll give you the money for the printing,” Seeley offered. “Are there more groups you’d like me to meet?”

  Swallowing the hot tea, Father James answered, “If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother. I’m celebrating healing masses at area churches, and I’d like you to speak on the dangers of satanic manipulation, how people are misguided by the slight, clever pull of the devil.”

  Seeley shrank at the idea of giving a speech from the ambo. “Father, I…what if…what if I screw up?” Her voice trembled. “I’m not a public speaker.”

  “You’re a respected reporter and journalist.” He cupped his hands around the warm mug. “You don’t have to mention your psychic capabilities. But isn’t it time to use your knowledge to warn people of what’s hunting for their souls?”

  As much as she hated speaking in public, she consented with a queasy stomach. Then she mentioned her pending interview with Asa.

  “You must remember that he has no power over you whatsoever. Your convictions are healthy and strong. Use justice and discretion,” he said. “Show the public who he is. Of course, I need not advise you to print anything that can’t be corroborated. He might be a damned man, but I still pray for him.”

  Tipping his mug and finishing the tea, Father James stood. “Well, let’s get this house blessed again. Do you have any holy water handy, or should I bless some?”

  Seeley swung open the end cupboard. Every shelf was filled with plastic containers of holy water. “Take your pick.”

  THEY STRIKE OUT AT FRIENDS

  JORDAN TRUDGED OUT the door,
late for school as usual. A blustery current tackled her, whisking her hair into a messy nest. Rotating her face into the wind, she gathered the rebellious strands into a ponytail as bitter cold nipped her nose. She shouted, “My soul for a warm car,” but the words died in the breeze. She rounded the corner of the house to see Markus perched on the hood of a car.

  “Hey, Mark, am I getting a ride to school?” she joked, happy to see him.

  He jumped to the snow dusted ground, holding wide the side door. Adding a pompous bow, he waved his arm. “Your carriage awaits, my dear lady.” His voice changed to a sarcastic tone. “And what’s with calling me Mark?”

  “Everyone calls you Mark. I thought maybe I should too.”

  “If you wish, you can call me Mark.”

  Warming up in the car and aiming to right her wronged hair, Jordan studied him. “Last time we talked, I thought you’d be away for a while.”

  “I was.” His head tilted. “But I needed to return.”

  “Why?” Is it my imagination, or is my angel keeping secrets?

  He inhaled. “I don’t have a clue. I’m not privy to God’s wisdom. It’s important that I stick around. For now.” He scratched his whiskered jaw line. “I shaved a day ago, and now I have to do it again. Facial hair is very annoying.”

  He split the conversation to a new avenue. “Don’t angels shave?” Jordan snickered, checking his scruff and shaggier than normal hair.

  “How many angels have you seen with beards?”

  “Make sure you shave. You look more like a guy in his twenties than a seventeen-year-old.”

  His mouth pursed with a nod.

  “Have you made any headway with Ronan?” she inquired after he parked in the school’s lot.

  He veered toward her, elongating his arm on the seat. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve done nothing except to hit a nerve. She seems to think we’re like—how do you say it?—an item.”

  “Oh, great Gatsby.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing, just my way of saying, oh shit.”

  “Hmmm…I thought the three of us could get together and have a discussion on the risks of witchcraft. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

  “I doubt it, but it’s worth a try,” she conceded.

  “I’ll arrange it. Meet me at the car after school. We’ll go to Taste.”

  Jordan nibbled her bottom lip. “Do we have to be ethical about the whole thing? Couldn’t we just scare her into submission?”

  Whump, whump, whump, whump sounded on the side window, startling them. Turning, they faced a seething Ronan.

  “What the fuck’s going on?”

  Taken aback, Jordan scooted out, carting her backpack from the floor. Boyfriends, girlfriends, and dating were not her expertise. Markus will smooth it over. She headed into school, and charging around a corner, she bumped head-on into Thrill. Books and papers scattered over the hall.

  “Slow down there, Jordan. What’s the rush?”

  She swept her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve been late every day, and I wanted to make homeroom on time.”

  Sitting on his heels, Thrill helped retrieve her things. “The guys are going to Hidden Lake on Friday after school. Do you want to come?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun.”

  His amber eyes glowed like honey. “It’s usually a blast. Tons of snow, so dress warm. I’ll pick you up at your house right after school.”

  HOPPING UP AND down to keep warm, Jordan shivered next to Markus’s car. She cheered when he emerged from the school, but he was alone. “Where’s Ronan?

  “She said she’d meet us there.” The asperity in his voice was perceptible.

  Despite the traffic, they arrived at Taste Coffee House within minutes. She appreciated the mouth-watering scent of fresh coffee. “Um-m-m, that’s such a great smell,” she said to no one in particular.

  At the glass counter, she lingered over a variety of delectable baked goods: three shelves of fudge brownies, coffee cakes, an oversized macaroon, and peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies.

  Markus paid for two coffees and opted for a sunny window seat, offering them the illusion of a summer day—if they didn’t look out the window. Pedestrians scurried over walkways in the inclement weather. They draped their coats over the chairs. His V-neck sweater molded to his chest, and as always, his jeans looked brand new and fit to perfection.

  “Where do you get your clothes?”

  He merely smiled and raised the coffee to his lips.

  “I’m stunned Ronan didn’t come with us. She has quite a jealousy problem, and catching us this morning probably blew her mind. Especially if she thinks the two of you are, like…um…a couple.”

  “I’ve made myself perfectly clear.” He wiped his fingers over his mouth. “We’re friends. How can she not fathom that?”

  “Girls construe things differently than boys. You took her out a few times. I know you’re trying to put a stop to her shenanigans, but she’s interested in more.”

  “All right, all right, I get the picture. Teenagers, bah.” Markus fidgeted, and then burned his lip on the hot coffee, making a sour face.

  She covered her off-center grin with her hand. Right at that moment, he was a typical boy. I don’t like it.

  “Why the strange look?” His eyes, like the violet sky at dusk, looked straight into Jordan’s.

  “Oh, nothing.” Usually he read her so well. “Doesn’t Ronan have a guardian angel?” she asked softly so no one would think she was nuts. “People can’t see their angels like I see you, but I thought everyone had one.”

  Markus chewed on his lips. “She did, but angelic beings, pure in spirit, cannot dwell in evil for very long. Ronan’s been practicing the dark arts for years. I’m able to endure evil longer in human form.” His eyes shut tightly and then reopened. “Although, she insisted I meet her father, and after an hour in her house, my body felt like it was on fire.”

  “Markus, when a girl wants you to meet their parents, it’s because they want their parents’ approval,” she said a tad riled. “You haven’t the slightest notion of how dating works.”

  “I’m trying to help Ronan and protect you at the same time. I don’t like the society you humans are burdened with. Dating, you know…whatever.” He flicked a defeated hand.

  Jordan pressed her knuckles to her lips to quell bubbling laughter. Then entwining her fingers with his, she squeezed. “This is a great experience for you. Now you’ll understand how it feels to walk in our shoes.”

  A chill ran through Taste when a cluster of kids filed through the door. Ronan, Paisley, Cayden, Rolly, and Thrill headed to their table, chafing cold hands. Like an eclipse of the sun, Ronan’s eyes darkened as they focused on Jordan’s hand.

  Conscious of their tangled fingers, Jordan slid out of his hold and buried them in her lap. “Oh, golly.”

  Thrill gave Markus a thump on the back. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  “Just waiting for you guys to show,” Markus said, casually.

  Jordan couldn’t think of a worse time to discuss witchcraft. She flinched when Ronan said, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Ronan looked at Markus, then at Jordan, her expression almost childlike.

  Jordan nearly fell off her chair when Markus, in a low, friendly voice, said, “Ronan, we’re your friends.” He glanced at each person’s face, then back at her. “We don’t want you to get hurt. We want to help you.”

  “I don’t understand.” Ronan was dumbfounded.

  All eyes were on Markus. “The Ouija board, the séances, not to mention the incantations. You’re infiltrating the spirit world,” he said. “You’re skating on thin ice, my friend.”

  Jordan could hardly believe it when Cayden, Rolly, Thrill, and even Paisley, who was generally Ronan’s number one supporter, nodded in agreement. Markus had anticipated their reaction the whole time. He was more insightful about human nature than she’d given him credit for.

  “We we
re just fine before you showed up, Mark.” She sounded pissy.

  “No, not really, Ronan,” Thrill said.

  She rounded on him like a viper ready to strike, and turned on Cayden and Paisley. “You agree with them?”

  “It was fun for a while,” Cayden, said in her nasal whine. “But last week freaked me out. I like being in control of my own body.”

  “You’ve always been a weakling,” Ronan mocked. “What about you, Paisley?”

  “I dunno.” Paisley chased a finger under her runny nose. “I’m cool with it. I guess.”

  “Since we’re being truthful, Thrill, I know you have the hots for Jordan.” Ronan wasn’t done chastising. “Do you see what’s going on between them? They’re hooking up behind our backs, just like Meg and Robert.”

  Jordan jolted. “Don’t get me started. That’s a lie.”

  Ronan appeared crushed, eyes downcast, staring at her feet. Lifting her head, a cunning smile carved her face. “Markus, be an angel and drive me home, okay?”

  She knows. Ronan’s sly disclosure didn’t register on his face, and he refused to meet her gawking stare.

  “Would you mind giving Jordan a ride home?” he said to Thrill.

  “Of course.” Thrill grinned at his good fortune. He then asked Mark, “You’re going Friday, right?”

  Ronan answered for all of them. “We’re all hanging at Hidden Lake on Friday.”

  It was then that Jordan recognized a trace of trepidation in Markus’s eyes.

  TO KEEP BUSY, Jordan knelt in the closet, discarding old jeans and shirts. Nightfall overtook the room, and as she stood to switch on the light, Markus materialized, bringing his glow.

  “She knows. Ronan knows,” she said, overstepping a pile of clothing.

  “It was only a matter of time.”

  “You knew she’d find out?”

  “Ronan’s woven into the deadly fibers of Asa’s cult. He’s helping her refine her talents.”

  “When did Ronan learn you were an angel?” She kicked over a stack of tattered jeans. “And why are you keeping secrets from me?”