Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “I’m done, caput.”

  Following the workout, they tramped to a nearby café. Jordan’s dampened spirits seemed to be recovering in the sunshine of a warm day. As an alternative to sidestepping the thawing snow, she hopped, thumping both feet into the puddle. Cold water splashed far and wide. Seeley flung back her head laughing. Jordan was back.

  “I’M GOING TO school tomorrow,” Jordan said during a commercial break. “There’ll be tons of work, and I need to catch up and keep busy.”

  Her grandparents had gone to bed, and her mom lay on the couch as they watched television.

  “Good idea,” her mom said, pillowing her head on her arms.

  “And after school, I’m going to see Ronan.”

  Seeley jerked up, squeezing her eyes and massaging her temples. “That’s not an intelligent decision.”

  “She helped us. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have gotten inside the mansion.”

  “Don’t you think Ronan has her own agenda? It’s even possible Asa asked Ronan to help, so he could trap you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Jordan rested her elbows on her knees. “I need to talk to her about what happened.”

  Her mom caved with a word of advice. “Be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.”

  HEALING

  THE SCRUMPTIOUS AROMA of bacon and eggs wafted to Jordan’s room. She hurried to the kitchen with a healthy appetite. Earlier, she’d turned on her cell phone and had been amazed at the number of voicemails. Thrill had called twice a day. Paisley, Cayden, and even Ronan had also called. Her grandparents and mom joined her at the table to lend support on her first day back to school. She listened to a couple of voicemails, then began to press delete, delete, delete.

  “I did the same with Declan’s messages,” Seeley said. “But you’ll see them today.”

  She glanced at her mom. Seeley tried to keep a stiff upper lip for her sake, but she was hurting. Her mom had finally been happy, until hell had come calling.

  “What’d you tell school?” she asked.

  “A death in the family.”

  Jordan lost her appetite.

  “Would you like a ride to school today?” her mom offered.

  “No thanks, I’ll walk. It gives me time to think.”

  Rounding the corner of the house, she half expected to see Markus leaning on the mailbox. Her whole world had turned upside down. Yet, as she jostled through the corridors at school, she realized nothing had changed, only her. Markus was gone. It’ll never be the same.

  Quickly dismissing her train of thought, she headed into Mr. Basinski’s math class. There she was—Ronan. She appeared healthier than ever, and the same bewitching eyes.

  “Move, Debbie, that’s Jordan’s desk.”

  None too happy, the blonde collected her books and moved.

  Mr. Basinski’s eyes widened at the sight of Jordan. He tweaked his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. From his pocket protector, he slid out a ballpoint pen to mark his attendance roster.

  “Can we meet later at Taste?” Jordan asked Ronan after class.

  “Should I ask Cayden and Paisley?

  “Just the two of us.”

  Hastening along, she spied Thrill conversing with an adoring chick. The girl said something to make him laugh, and Jordan liked the rightness of his features. Noticing Jordan his expression turned serious. He walked toward her, leaving the female sputtering behind him.

  “Jordan,” he said her name with sincerity. “I missed you. How you feeling?”

  “I’m good.” She was glad he didn’t mention the death in the family.

  “Can we get together tonight, maybe see a movie?”

  “That’d be great.” Anything to keep my mind off Markus.

  RUMMAGING IN HER locker, she heard Markus’s voice, and it made her heart flutter.

  “First day back. How’s it going?”

  “Rafe, I don’t want you hanging around me. Understand?”

  He wore a sad smile—Markus’s smile.

  “That’ll be hard, seeing as I’m supposed to be watching over you.”

  “If you must,” her response filled with acid. “Then do it at a distance, so I don’t have to see you.”

  His mouth hardened in a constricted line. Rafe, wearing Markus’s body, strode away.

  After school, she’d driven Henry’s car to Taste, and after ten minutes of deliberating about what to say, Ronan entered. Not stopping to order coffee, she stripped off her pink fleece, and parked herself almost on top of Jordan’s elbow.

  “So, tell me what happened. Did my incantations help? I know they did, but how well?” she babbled. “I heard Asa gutted someone with a butcher knife, is that true? Did you see it? I want details, girl. Mark was stingy on all the specifics.”

  Jordan started at Mark’s name.

  Noticing her stunned expression, Ronan said, “You call him Markus, but I like Mark.”

  She doesn’t know? Is the Order keeping Markus’s death a secret, even from Ronan?

  “When did you speak with Mark?”

  “The very next day, we kind of hooked-up.”

  Jordan cringed at her choice of words. “It took a while for your spells to work, but we were able to break in,” she said, her pitch flat. “The wickedness remained, though.” Sipping her coffee, she peered at Ronan over the brim.

  “What did you expect? The mansion belongs to a higher realm.” Bitterness spewed from her mouth. “You should be singing my praises, since I saved your mother. You have no idea how much it drained me.” She pressed her brow, as if reducing her strain. “I’m still trying to get my strength back.”

  “Speaking of my mom.” Jordan swished the mocha coffee in her mug. “How did you know? I mean, you called Mark and then met us at the diner. You knew before anyone.”

  “That’s not true. Mark called me first.”

  Jordan was speechless. She’d deduced that Ronan had called Markus, not the other way around. The angels had insisted they needed Ronan to get into Asa’s. If the plan to rescue her mother had been in motion before they’d called Ronan, why had Markus come to get her at the diner?

  “If Markus called you about my mom, then why’d you both come to the diner? They could’ve handled it without me even knowing.”

  “Veronka let the cat out of the bag,” she bragged, needing to feel superior, “by discussing the fancy-schmancy festivities a few days beforehand. She wasn’t very discreet, almost like she wanted me to know how to use my charms to the fullest.” Ronan’s fingernails kept a rapping beat on the table. “Unfortunately, you were part of the package. They needed your presence to fulfill—” Ronan abated her explanation seeing Jordan’s narrowing eyes. “What’d I say?”

  “You and Veronka. You planned—” Jordan managed to thwart her compulsion to smack Ronan in her pretty, witchy face. She then recollected Ezekiel’s words before the slaughter. ‘Markus, it was a bad idea bringing her here. I don’t care what Ronan said.’

  It was like solving a misleading math equation, and now it made perfect sense. Markus must’ve surmised Ronan’s ruse and wanted to take her home to safety. Because of her stubborn, pigheadedness, she’d refused to be left behind. It’s my fault. Markus died because of me!

  “Like I told Mark,” Ronan went on, not recognizing Jordan’s confliction, “Trebane’s enchantments restricted any heavenly beings. Once you entered the house, he planned to fortify the spells so no one could get in or get out. That’s where I came in. I diluted his enchantments long enough to let them in. And I was lucky enough to weaken them so you could get out. And from what Mark said, Asa was overpowered. He didn’t count on that.”

  Yeah, after one of our own had fallen. Jordan shuddered, harboring a surplus of tears. “You said I was part of the package, how so?”

  She seemed distracted, randomly checking the bistro. “Your presence was needed to…to make it work.”

  “What about Trebane and Veronka? Aren’t you afraid of them seeking reven
ge? You betrayed The Order.”

  “Like your father?” Ronan jabbed her words like a knife.

  “Not exactly like my father.” Ronan would never comprehend the pride she felt at her father’s betrayal. What made me think I’d get the truth from her?

  Ronan completely changed the subject and rubbed her palms together like hatching a brilliant coup. “Mark and I work well together. Don’t you think?”

  “Is that why you helped us?” Jordan asked with disdain. “You have a crush on him, so you let life and death hang in the balance?”

  “Don’t get bent out of shape.” A shadow crept over her face. “Mark and I could be like the dynamic duo fighting crime.”

  She wanted to scream, Markus is dead. The angel’s dead. Restraining herself, she said, “Good idea. Take it up with Mark.”

  CLIMBING INTO A pair of jeans, Jordan looked at the time. Thrill would be there shortly. She ransacked her bureau for her violet knit sweater with the scoop neckline. Then she dashed across the hall to her mom’s room and held out her arms. “How do I look?”

  In the process of stuffing clean laundry in drawers, Seeley said, “I like that sweater. The color looks good on you. Have fun tonight.” She rotated to the task at hand, and then looked back at Jordan. “Hey, you haven’t mentioned what Ronan had to say.”

  “Can I tell you later? Thrill will be here any minute, and I still have to fix my hair.”

  “Sure, go.” A trace of a smile touched her mom’s lips.

  Hunting for a purse, Jordan noticed the sparking dots. Rafe’s coming. “Didn’t I make myself clear?” She refused to look at him. “Stay away from me.”

  “What did you say to Ronan?” he asked, ignoring her rudeness. “She wants us to get together and talk about combining our abilities or something like that.”

  “Oh that,” she said smugly. “Ronan wants you and her to be the next dynamic duo.”

  He looked bewildered.

  “Like Batman and Robin or Bonnie and Clyde. Who knows?” Fishing under the bed, she found the blue purse and brushed off the dust.

  “You’ve got holy water?”

  “Would you please leave me alone?”

  “I can’t. Not until—” Rafe winced, rolling in his lips.

  “Not until what?” She analyzed the angel’s expression, focusing on his eyes, which least reminded her of Markus.

  Rafe shook his head and his body dissolved.

  HE WILL CERTAINLY

  SCATTER THEIR BONES

  THE FINICKY JITTERS infected Seeley whenever Father James booked another round of lectures. And to her amazement, Saint Peter and Paul’s Church was three-quarters filled with people of differing ages. After the priest’s preamble, she embarked on an impassioned speech. Her gaze drifted from pew to pew, until one person in particular caused her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth. Her train of thought hit a wall. She stammered, and then salvaging a semblance of self-control, she continued.

  Finally, Father James closed the address. “Seeley, thank you for sharing with us tonight.”

  An enthusiastic round of applause brought color to her cheeks. As was the routine, they milled through the crowd, answering questions and selling Jack’s book.

  Seeley bent to collect her coat, but a large hand beat her to it.

  “May I be of service?” Declan smiled, whittling his hard edges.

  She channeled her arms into the sleeves.

  “Coffee?” Hopeful powder-blue eyes fixed on her.

  Seeley couldn’t resist and followed Declan in her car to a nearby restaurant. For weeks, she’d been rehearsing for this moment. Now, words escaped her. Fidgeting and afraid to look him in the eye, she aimlessly looked elsewhere.

  Declan covered her hands. “Seeley, I need to say it, again and again. I’m sorry. Every damn day, I rehash the events of that night, and I reach the same lousy conclusion. I don’t know what happened.” He released her hands when the waitress brought their coffee.

  “I was angry when Trebane stole you away,” he said, neglecting the brew. “That bitch hung onto me like a bloodsucker. I guess I drank too much listening to her.”

  “Listening to her saying what?”

  “Cripes, I don’t know what she does for a living, but she’d make a bundle on phone sex.”

  “Did she make you hot?” She repressed a quirking smile.

  “More like—” His hand covered his mouth then wiped down his face. “One minute you were at the end of the table, and then the next you disappeared. I looked for you with her on my tail. She slapped a drink in my hand, and I tipped it back in one gulp. That’s the last thing I remember until you threw a punch. I woke up in bed, by myself.” Remorseful, he frowned.

  “I should’ve warned you,” she said. “Asa’s people don’t play by our rules.”

  Declan’s suffering eyes pierced her through. She’d missed him terribly these last few weeks, and her leave-of-absence from The Courier was over. She had to make a decision.

  “Seeley, don’t be mad, but I did some research on my own. I know about Jack.” He paused when she stiffened. “And the accusations pertaining to a sect called The Black Order, and your apparitions. And now, to hear you speak tonight, you were amazing.”

  “How—how’d you find out?”

  “I have my sources,” he said. “Then I went right to Father James. The priest holds you in high regard, and he declined to divulge your talents. He corroborated my investigation with logic, not sensationalism or misinformed gossip. You’ve had a rough life for such a young woman.” Shelving his fingers under her chin, he raised her head to meet his eyes. “Seeley, would you come back to me? Please?”

  “Declan, I-I can’t.” She wanted him desperately. “I can’t take the chance.”

  “Can’t take a chance on me?”

  “If you’ve learned about my past, then you know my life is complicated. What if you get hurt because of me or my daughter?”

  He considered her rationalization for a brief second. “I don’t know the all the details, but I do know that I want to be part of your life, come hell or high water.”

  Seeley drew an apprehensive breath. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  Light was leaking underneath Jordan’s door when Seeley knuckled the frame. She mumbled to come in. Clothed in flannel pajamas, her hair in a ponytail, Jordan was hunched over a composition notebook.

  “That looks uncomfortable,” Seeley said. “You know it’s close to midnight.”

  “I need to finish this report on the holocaust.” Jordan kneaded her aching neck. “How’d the speech go?”

  “Good.” She tugged playfully on Jordan’s ponytail. “Guess who showed up?”

  Jordan gaped at her with frightened eyes.

  “No, not him.” She shook her head. “Not Asa.”

  “Phew,” Jordan breathed. “You had me going. Who showed up? Someone good, I hope.”

  She expounded on the satisfying evening, the crowd in the church, and the appearance of Declan Donavan.

  Jordan looked at her sideways. “You like this guy?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I’m happy for you. When’s he coming to dinner, so I can get to know him?”

  Noting the familiar sparks, she stepped aside to make room for the emergence of Zeke and Rafe. Both angels came into focus, smiling.

  “IT MUST BE good news,” Seeley said.

  Ezekiel crossed muscular arms over his strapping chest, looking like the epitome of a warrior. “Even though Asa’s alive, his troops are destabilized. Yes, good news for a change,” he said, his voice as hard as nails.

  Taking in Rafe’s natural appearance, his broad build, brown eyes, and brown hair, Jordan snapped, “I’d rather you looked like that instead of Markus.”

  Ezekiel groaned. “You know he has to wait out the school year, and then he’ll be gone.”

  “Why can’t he just say he’s moving out of town or going back home to his parents, or something?”

&nbs
p; Rafe positioned his hands on his hips. “I need to be here, so stop complaining.” He gave no further explanation.

  “Stop giving Rafe a hard time,” Ezekiel ordered. “You’re being difficult. He’s here to do a job, and your cooperation would be appreciated.” His gaze turned compassionate. “I understand how badly you miss Markus, but in time…give it time.”

  Sliding off the mattress, Jordan hedged closer to Ezekiel. “Help me to understand,” she said, eye’s pleading for clarification. “He couldn’t die, Markus wasn’t fully human. His transformation had just begun when Asa—” The words stuck in her throat.

  “Jordan,” Ezekiel said while giving her an assured shoulder squeeze, “He has a divine plan.”

  She shucked off his hand. “Markus was still part angel. He needs to come back. Angel’s don’t die.”

  “Angels are pure spirit,” Ezekiel began. “Destroying an angel is difficult. However, it can be done, as Asa figured out. In human form, we’re physically susceptible—”

  “If you die when you’re human, you can still come back as angels, right?”

  “For your edification, no, as I said, angels are spirit. Humans do not evolve into angels like so many people believe.”

  Thumping despondently next to her mom, Jordan leaned her head on her mom’s shoulder. Seeley stroked her cheek before she shoved away from her placating.

  The angels had begun to wane when Seeley said, “Wait. Does Asa know? Is he aware of Ronan’s involvement?”

  Jordan’s head perked at her question.

  “It’s vague,” Rafe said. “Logic says, yes. Someone as competent as Asa should’ve detected Ronan’s conjuring. Unless she conspired with Veronka for some unknown purpose. We wait, listen, and watch to see what plays out.”

  “I hate this,” Jordan complained. “Can’t angels be like…like spies and find out what’s happening with Asa and the demons?”

  “Remember,” Rafe said. “Angels cannot abide the impious darkness. In that way, we’re stronger in human form. But in any form, angels cannot and should not interfere with our Father’s plan.”