Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Jordan opened her mouth to speak, but Ezekiel raised his hand. “It’s impossible to answer your questions to your satisfaction.” Excluding further explanations, their essence evaporated.

  “I wanted to ask,” Seeley said, “why it’s so important for Rafe to play the part of Markus. Why does he need to be here?”

  ALL IS CALM—TOO CALM

  TREE LIMBS BORE plump buds and yellowed grass turned green and lush. Crocuses, daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths spread in Em’s flowerbeds. Jordan spotted the first robin of the season and welcomed its tuneful warbling. Peaceful days blessed the Chase women. Father James counseled them not to become complacent—the devil is always hard at work.

  Back to the grind, Seeley wrote articles for The Courier Express, with Declan consuming her days and most evenings. She then prepared for the much-anticipated family dinner. The menu included roasted chicken, baby red potatoes slathered with butter and chives, glazed carrots, and homemade caramel apple pie. They received Declan at the table, and all thoroughly delighted in Seeley’s savory dishes.

  With his gift of charm, Declan ribbed Jordan in his amusing manner, and her eyes glittered in admiration for his quick wit. He had the family eating from the palm of his hand and a smile plastered Seeley’s face for days.

  JORDAN BENEFITED FROM the monotony at Elma High. What infuriated her were rumors about Mark, or rather Rafe, and Ronan. Rumors that they shared more than just their lunches. And each night, she called for him to explain, but he never showed.

  Wandering into the boisterous lunchroom, humming with fresh gossip, she spotted Paisley and Cayden and headed toward their table. She lodged her tray next to Paisley’s. “Hey, guys, anything interesting going on this weekend?”

  “Why do you ask? Isn’t Thrill taking you out?” Paisley said, resentful.

  “I guess you got up on the wrong side of the bed.” Jordan peeled off the burnt pepperoni from her slice of pizza.

  “You and Ronan have the two hottest guys in school,” Cayden said while nibbling her homemade lunch of grapes and crackers.

  Bogus rumors and something’s brewing, I feel it.

  “Has anyone gone over to Ronan’s lately?” Jordan plunged a straw into her container of milk. “She’s been keeping a low profile.”

  Paisley blotted her mouth on a napkin. “I was there last night. She has mega bottled up frustrations. Something’s seriously pissing her off. She got a call, and I heard her say a weird name like Verona. She walked away, so I don’t know what they were talking about.”

  Jordan’s scalp bristled. And the charade continues…

  WALKING HOME FROM school, she heard footsteps, and Markus’s voice, “Hey, wait up.”

  She slowed until Rafe caught up to her.

  “You’ve been calling me,” he said. “That’s either a good sign or a bad one.”

  “You’re leaving me in the dark,” she said. “What’s going on with Ronan and Veronka?”

  “If I thought you should know, I would’ve told you.” He peered around the vicinity. “Seriously, Jordan, I don’t know how humans manage. I have to deal with Beth tugging on one arm and Ronan on the other, all the while trying to keep you out of trouble.”

  “You’re keeping me out of trouble, how’s that?”

  “Obviously, you’ve deduced my method.”

  Her lips pinched. “By not confiding in me.”

  “Markus said you’re competent, and can handle whatever—”

  “Markus? You’ve spoken with Markus?”

  Rafe’s lips compressed, taking a deep breath. “If you thought Ronan’s taken a break from her mysticism, you’re wrong. Each day she steps it up a notch. With Asa and Veronka cultivating her habits, Ronan’s capacity to unleash hell soars. They’re pleased to find such a gifted young lady to influence.”

  He evaded my question. But she let it go for now. “What can I do?”

  “It’s perplexing,” he said. “As Mark, I’ve befriended her, and Ronan’s confessed a few facts of her unwholesome childhood. I can see why she hates life and her father. Lucifer tempts those who feel mistreated, and she’s comforted by magic. The black arts offer ways to modify events and lure people to do her bidding.”

  “So you believe it’s too late to help her?”

  “That’s not what I said. The danger of losing her soul doesn’t impress Ronan. Like most teenagers, she sees death as a distant enemy. The teenage attitude of ‘just do it’ is engraved on her heart, without any thought of culpability. Trebane’s promise of reward adds greatly to her misconceived notions. And she’s discovered a seedy kind of love.”

  Rafe and Jordan roamed along the sidewalk.

  “I’ve been keeping close tabs, hoping she’ll leak some information about the Order’s next move. She’s vain in regards to her mystical prowess and recently talked of Asa’s aspiration to blend their powers. He’s only proposed blending of powers with one other person.”

  “My mother.”

  Rafe nodded, and ironed his palms over the thigh of his jeans, appearing stressed. “At the moment, everything seems calm. Too calm.”

  With her house just across the street, she peered up at him. “It’s hard to believe she doesn’t know about Asa killing Markus.”

  “Yes, it’s strange and disconcerting. And it only proves my point. The Order is manipulating her for a reason.”

  “Ronan knows you’re an angel. Well, she thinks you’re half-angel.” She brushed a strand of hair from of her eyes. “Why is she so keen on wanting more from you? Um…you know what I mean? You’d think she’d despise your presence, since you’re a divine spirit.”

  His skin heightened over his cheekbones with a sheepish grin. “Ronan’s intent on Markus changing masters.”

  “Really?” Jordan balked. “Does she truly believe you’d be loyal to Lucifer?”

  “Wiser angels have fallen.”

  “So she wants you, or, I mean, Markus to crossover to the dark side?”

  His eyebrow quirked.

  “What if I tell her Markus is dead, would she leave you alone?”

  “She fancies Markus,” he said, “although any angel’s power, no matter which angel, would appease her. Setting foot in her house causes me grief, even in human form. I’ve gone as far as to sprinkle blessed water, but it sizzles before it even touches the floor. That only means one thing; hell’s consuming fire has found another home.”

  JORDAN RECEIVED RONAN’S grief-stricken call after dinner. “I’m dying here, Jordan. My heart’s falling to pieces. I love him. I love Markus so much, but he keeps pushing me away,” she cried. “Tell him how much I need him, how much I love him. He’s the only person who can save me. You know that.”

  Listening to her bellyaching, Jordan simmered. She wants to drag Markus to hell, actually, Rafe. “Remember when you asked me who Asa gutted with a butcher knife?”

  “Are you even listening to me? What’s that got to do with Mark?”

  “Why hasn’t Asa told you?”

  “Probably because it wasn’t important.” She sounded insulted. “What are you getting at?”

  “You don’t really love Mark.”

  “I do. With all my heart,” she replied quickly.

  “You want to use him, but it won’t work.”

  “What are you saying? I do love him.”

  “Asa killed Mark. My Markus.”

  “That’s not true,”— she argued, sounding breathy. “I’d know it. Why wasn’t—” Cutting short her sentence, and after a weighty pause, she asked, “Then who’s Mark?”

  “A facsimile, an imposter. His name is Rafe.” Jordan figured the deceitful Asa more than likely had exploited Markus as an incentive if Ronan compromised her magic powers.

  “I don’t believe it. Mark, Mark is gone, forever?” Ronan’s voice fell to pieces, blubbering and coughing. “Can–can you come over?”

  “I guess so,” she murmured, reluctant. “I’ll be there soon.” Just as she disconnected the call, Rafe appeared in cargo
shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he said. “You can’t go there.”

  Glad he’d discarded the Markus guise, Jordan said, “Are you on vacation?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your clothes, oh, never mind.” She bit back a chuckle as he smoothed his Hawaiian shirt. “I told her,” she said full of certitude.

  “You told her what?”

  “About Asa, Markus, and you. Maybe now she’ll hang up her magic bowl of witchery.”

  “That’s unlikely.” His brown eyes glared, so unlike Markus’s. “She’s gone too far.”

  “I had to try, or she’ll be lost forever. And hurt more people. I’m going over there.”

  Rafe chased his fingers into his mane of hair. “As I explained earlier, her residence holds me at bay.”

  “I doubt she’s had time to concoct a diabolical scheme.” She was already cuffing on her high tops while Rafe paced. “She’s reeling with the information of Markus’s death right now.”

  “Why don’t you call Thrill to go with you?” he suggested, grasping at straws. “They’ve been friends a while. His persuasion might be more helpful than you think.”

  “I’m not dragging him into this mess.” That’d be a fiasco. Poor, unsuspecting Thrill. “And besides, he doesn’t know what I do. And I don’t want him to know.”

  He stopped pacing, appearing distraught. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “What’d you mean?”

  Rafe went into a trance. “Do not go to Ronan’s.” He blinked, coming back. “I’m receiving an urgent summons. Do not leave.” He blasted her with a surly brow. “Understand?”

  He vanished, and she stood there at a complete loss regarding his emergency. Call mom? Seeley had left with Declan well over two hours ago, but this new knowledge blazed a hole on Jordan’s tongue. Why spoil her night?

  Nervous and waiting for Rafe to reappear, she practiced probing beyond her human psyche to manufacture a sword. Since sparring with Markus months ago, she’d been attempting to achieve the insufferable feat.

  Shuttering her eyes, deeply inhaling, and slowly exhaling, she sought inner balance. Diligent in her contemplation, she cleansed her brain of useless trivia. Minutes ticked by before she felt a shifting of spirit. Her mind transcended, and she entered a new dimension. Feeling the rippling pull of energy and the rising heat encircling her fingers, she raised her arm. An image of a sword took shape and hardened. Just as she was about to grab hold, a flash of lightning drew her eye, snapping her concentration. Jordan sighed. Apparently, it was a sign that she wasn’t ready yet.

  The hour crept at a snail's pace. Where’d he go? Ronan’s, without me? Her nerves coiled tighter than a drum, and she made a rash decision.

  She galloped down the staircase. “Em, Henry, I’m going to Ronan’s for a while. I’m borrowing mom’s car. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, honey,” Em said through a giggle while watching her favorite television sitcom. “See you later.”

  Sticking the key into the ignition, Jordan experienced an eerie foreboding.

  THE EARTH QUAKED, THE HEAVENS

  SHOOK, I TOOK REFUGE IN THE

  SHELTEROF YOUR WINGS

  RONAN’S SIDE DOOR was ajar. Jordan pressed the doorbell and knocked. When no reply came, she banged louder.

  “Ronan?”

  Her hands came away sticky. What’s this goo? Paint? Pressing the door all the way open, she wiped her hands on her jeans. Normally drafty and cold, the air was muggy, and an obnoxious stink plagued her nose.

  Advancing farther into the kitchen, she noticed the wallpaper was riddled with strange symbols. I’ve seen these, in Dad’s journal. Cautious in walking toward the living room, the splattered markings continued.

  “Ronan?” she called again.

  Under her foot, a floorboard creaked. She froze.

  A motionless man stood with his back to her, looking out the picture window. An immaculate white tailored suit and matching white shoes contrasted with his lubricated hair, which was black as tar. The man drew the curtains shut, and leisurely turned around.

  At first, Jordan thought he might be Ronan’s absentee father, though every bone in her body told her otherwise. She stared at the strikingly handsome man. He reminded her of a legendary movie star. His uneven smile was unconventionally appealing, and he walked forward with grace.

  Heavy footfalls turned Jordan to fleetingly glance to the staircase. She wasn’t surprised to see Ronan and Asa. They stopped midway between her and the man in white.

  Jordan broke the creepy hush. “Ronan, what’s going on?”

  “Meet…my father.” Ronan signaled to the mysterious, handsome man.

  Hypnotic obsidian eyes centered on Jordan, the man smiled wider, showing teeth. “I finally meet the elusive Jordan Chase.”

  “Mr. Beckman?” she asked.

  Even his snicker sounded elegant.

  “Mr. Beckman?” Ronan’s inflection braced with contempt. “I’m free of that incestuous smutty scum. The prick gave his life to Lucifer.”

  “You k–killed your father?” Her blood congealed, making it difficult to catch a breath.

  Ronan scowled, disfiguring her pretty face. “Martin Beckman was finally worth something. My ascension to a privileged realm. Martin was never my true father.” She looked to the man by the window. “Here is my father.”

  “Ronan,” his words were sickly sweet as she scurried into his open arms. “My daughter, side by side with Asa, will lead my world.”

  “Look around you.” His manner was electric. “Martin’s blood offers me sanctuary. His blood consecrates this abode and his daughter to me.”

  Jordan gaped at the walls weeping blood, feeling defiled. Barely able to utter a word, she said, “Who are you?”

  Her question went unheeded as the man combed Ronan’s long locks, his voice a soothing coo. “Markiel, or should I say Markus, creates mayhem in my realm. Ah-h, but when he made the decision to become your human bodyguard, it was the chance to rid the netherworld of that particular enemy.” As if pacifying Ronan, his tone turned contrite. “We had to dispose of him. Asa’s plan worked to perfection, thanks to Ronan’s expertise.”

  Ronan, her complexion depleted of color crossed back to Asa.

  “You plotted against Markus?” Jordan said, her hackles on the rise. “We thought you were helping.”

  Footsteps clattered on the kitchen tile. Jordan twirled, half-expecting a flock of demons. Half right, Veronka swept in, her face gnarled in arrogance.

  “The eyes are the mirror to the soul.” Jordan stared into the demons soulless pupils, ringed-red. “And yours are empty.” Her declaration elicited a cackle to spout from Veronka.

  “If only I had a soul to offer Lucifer, it would be the blackest.” She grabbed Jordan’s head and kneed her in the stomach before letting her crumple. “You’re not so strong without that angel,” Veronka ridiculed.

  Quick to retaliate, Jordan scissored the demon’s ankles and sent her sprawling backward. On her feet, she crouched, ready to fight.

  “Stop!”

  Jordan wheeled around to witness the man’s sultry poise snap.

  “Young lady, I don’t generally make appearances. You should be honored to meet me.” He wove a deadly cocoon with his silky voice. “Who do you think I am?”

  I can’t wait to send you back to hell.

  His arms rose in exaltation. “I am the way, I am the life. I am the way to master this life, to gain wealth beyond your wildest dreams, and to live a life of carnal fulfillment.”

  Terrifyingly, his body began to blur and coalesce into a voluptuous woman. An obscene leer decorated her face. The woman roiled into a mass of skeleton bones, a vortex of flesh and eyes, and developed into a coiled, scaly serpent. The serpent grew enormous, and its forked tongue licked her face.

  Its snake hide molted like a banana peel, revealing a child, gazing in wide-eyed innocence. The child’s naive eyes modified
to a blazing red. His skin ripped asunder. A behemoth, horned beast crawled out, burgeoning wings, not resplendent like her angels, but greasy, like feathers dipped in motor oil, a thing of humped sinew and immortal energy, naked and blood red, breathing fire.

  “Is this how you see me in your nightmares?” Maniacal laughter rose from the hellfire that ensconced the room. Pivoting its trunk-like neck, barbed horns fractured the ceiling, raining plaster.

  Undulating tremors rocked the beast, and the white-suited man stood there once more. “I am…I am…” His hand flipped in a circling motion, as if they were playing a guessing game.

  “Lucifer,” breathed Jordan, knees knocking in her high-tops.

  Tapping a finger to the tip of his nose, he verified her guess.

  “Jack Chase promised me his first born.” He seethed. “Seeley stole Jack’s soul from me. I want what’s owed. The time has come when the warrior will be one with me.”

  Pain ripped through Jordan’s shoulder as Veronka twisted her arms behind her. A vindictive Asa walked forward.

  “Ronan, don’t let this happen,” Jordan shouted. Her mind latched onto the nearest lamp and whipped it at Asa’s head. A mere nod from Lucifer made it crash to the floor. He belched a snigger.

  “To tell the God awful truth,” Asa said. “Ronan thought she was helping. She was, in a way. My way.” His lip curled over his teeth. “You could not break through the enchantments without help. Your blood and Markus’s was the key to enter. The house should’ve been sealed from the others. Her charms were to weaken the angels and take you. Ronan’s love for that angel destabilized my sorcery. Letting heaven’s army penetrate my home.”

  “You promised me Mark if I gave you Jordan,” Ronan cried.

  “My good fortune of killing Markus was destiny, a gift for my lord,” Asa went on, “Ronan is an exceedingly skilled child, who must be ruled with an iron fist as she matures.” He bowed to Lucifer. “Forgive me, I live to do your will.”