by G. A. Rael
"They're not mutually exclusive goals," Darren said with a shrug. "To put it simply, I want answers."
"Then ask a question, but make it a good one,” he sneered, looking very much like his old self for a moment. “Wording is such a tricky thing."
Darren frowned. "Alright. To start with, who is Jordan with right now?"
“Samael,” Chase answered.
"That was Samael?”
"I believe so."
"Why don't you seem concerned?"
"I am concerned, just not for her safety," Chase said flatly.
Darren frowned. "You think he's got a thing for her, don't you?"
“He is her consort. It can hardly be helped, but he's not my biggest concern," Chase said pointedly. "Any other questions, Doctor?"
"No, just a statement." Darren took a step closer and leaned in. "I don't know what or who you are, but I know you're not the Chase Wylde I grew up with. To be honest, I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t for Jordan, because anything is an improvement on the original. That's the one and only reason I haven't outed you, because as much as I'd like to put a fucking two-by-four through your face, you've been better to her than I have," he admitted gruffly. "The moment that ceases to be true, the instant you give me any reason to believe you're even the slightest threat to her, physically or otherwise, I will rip you apart with my own fucking hands and I'll make sure there's not enough left of you for all the king's men to put back together again. Are we good?"
Chase stared him down for a moment. Maybe it was just Darren's imagination, but he felt like something almost resembling mutual respect passed between them. "Yes," Chase replied in his typical stiff-if-pleasant tone. "We're good."
"Good," Darren said, hitting the other man on the arm a bit harder than he had convinced himself that he meant to. "Let's go wrangle us one of the Dukes of Heaven."
"I don't understand that reference," Chase said, following him further into the garden.
"Of course you don't," Darren muttered. He stopped at the edge of the garden, frowning. "Did you hear that?"
"No," said Chase, looking around. "What is it?"
"It sounds like music. Almost like…trumpets."
"Well, there is a live jazz band performing onstage.”
"It's not that." Darren looked up at the sky. It was crazy, but that was where it seemed like the sound was originating from. "You really can't hear that?"
The sound went from a distant hum to a tidal wave crashing over them. A snarl of rage and instinct tore from Darren's throat and he fell to his knees, desperately trying to cover his bleeding ears. Not that it did any good.
Chase covered his ears as well, but he didn't seem to be affected in the same way. Whatever he was, enhanced hearing obviously wasn't part of the shtick.
"Jordan," Darren cried through gritted teeth, rising to his feet without taking his hands down.
"I'll find her," said Chase, taking off at a run. Before he made it even three steps, Hermes appeared out of nowhere. "You're up, Tink,” the demon growled, snatching Chase by the arm. "Time to make yourself useful, grab the Moonstone and get Wendy back to Neverland."
Before Darren could say a word, they disappeared. "Great."
He looked around for any sign of Jordan. Somehow, he knew he wouldn't find her. Before he could even make it through the panicked crowd in the garden, the roaring stopped and a black sports car jutted across the lawn. Darren recognized it as Chase’s newest toy and he caught a glimpse of Jordan in the passenger’s seat, looking intently at something in the distance.
Somehow, reason won out against the instinct to pursue them. If that unnervingly biblical sound had anything to do with the angel that was running around the country club, Darren knew that Chase’s speeding car was probably the safest place Jordan could be for the time being.
Darren turned back to the crowd and began searching for Mrs. Herrin. "Julia?" he called, desperately trying to find the small woman in a sea of masks.
"Darren?" Cindy's panicked voice was unmistakable as she grabbed his arm. "What in the world was that?"
"I have no idea, but I'm going to find out," he muttered. "Has Luke received any police reports?"
She shook her head. "No, he isn't even here and I can't get enough of a signal to call him,” she lamented, looking down at her phone. “No one can. Whatever it was must have jammed the signals. How is that even possible?"
"No idea," he lied. "Where’s Max?”
“He’s not here either, as far as I know."
"Do you have transportation?"
"Of course, but --"
"Good. Find Julia, get your sister and head into the city. Whatever you do, don't go back to Cold Creek, understand?"
"Sure, but why?"
"I can't explain it now, it's just a theory," he said, walking toward the stage before she could ask any more questions. He climbed up the stairs and past the worried band members. "Just gonna borrow this for a sec," he said apologetically, raising the microphone stand to his height. "Attention, ladies and gentlemen? I have an urgent announcement."
The crowd's panic began to quiet with the promise of new information.
"Jordan and Chase had to leave early due to an emergency. They're fine, but it looks like the loss of signal we're all experiencing could be connected to a very severe, localized storm nearby. There's no need to panic, but it would be best if everyone moved inside just to be safe."
"There's no need for that." A slender hand reached out to take the microphone from Darren and he turned sharply. The man was not nearly as tall as Samael, but he was broader and older with short black-and-gray hair and keen eyes. A hush fell over the crowd at the smooth resonance of his deep voice. Like Samael, he had no visible wings, but the energy that emanated from him was nothing short of intimidating and otherworldly.
There was no doubt in Darren's mind that this was an angel, and he had never been more terrified in all his life. In fact, it felt like his feet had been frozen to the floor. When he looked down, he realized it was more than just a feeling. Thick shards of ice had grown around his shoes, anchoring him to the floor.
"There is no need for any of you lovely people to panic," the angel continued as he walked across the stage. "Do the sheep need to fear destruction at the hands of the shepherd merely because a wolf has chosen to hide among them?"
All throughout the garden, a little fewer than a dozen men separated themselves from the amorphous crowd. Each one was tall and broad, but they blended into the crowd well with their black suits and white masks.
"I am Raguel, the archangel of judgment," the man on stage continued. "Be not afraid. I have come for one whose time of judgment has arrived, not to harm innocent souls. Give us the one you call Jordan Adams and all will be well."
The audience erupted in low murmurs. Whether it was because no one knew where she was or simply because they didn't know what to think, no one came forward.
Raguel's benevolent expression didn't last long. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way. Boys?"
The angels descended on the crowd, ripping off masks and manhandling the guests. Darren tried to move and felt the ice crack around his feet.
"My, you're a strong one," said Raguel. "I guess that's to be expected for an abomination."
"You're not going to touch her," Darren said through gritted teeth.
Raguel smirked. "Such loyal lapdogs the undead make. It's easy to see why the witches never learn their lesson about necromancy."
The angel waved his hand and the ice shattered. Darren staggered free of the crumbling shards and watched him in confusion.
"You won't tell me where she is, I know there's no chance of that. The good news is, you don't have to," Raguel said, sneering. "You'll bring her to me."
"What makes you think she's not here?"
Raguel drew a blade of ice that seemed to materialize in his palm through sheer will. "Because if she was, I very much doubt she'd let me do this," he said, plunging the blade into Darren's stomach before he c
ould react. Darren doubled over, grabbing Raguel's arm to keep himself from complete collapse. The angel let him slip to his knees and Darren choked as the blade dissolved within him. Blood filled his lungs and panic began to spread throughout the crowd.
Raguel looked around, smirking. "I didn't think so. Don't worry, Darren. It's hard to kill something that isn't actually alive. Your better half should be getting a notification that something is wrong right about now and she'll come running. If there's one thing I'll say for the whore, it's that she's loyal."
Darren spit a mouthful of blood onto the stage. "She won't come." And if Chase let her, he was a dead man. The kind who stayed that way.
“We'll see," Raguel said, wiping the blood off his hand with a clean towel he had picked off one of the waiters. "While we're waiting, why don't you tell me how that atheism is working for you?"
"Not too good," Darren coughed. "Makes me glad I joined the other guy's team."
"I wonder if your arrogance will last through the first trumpet."
"Trumpets, horns, what is it with you flyboys and your need to blow things?"
Raguel wrapped an unyielding hand around Darren's throat. "You die tonight one way or another. Trust me when I say you don't want to find out what 'another' means."
Darren inhaled the blood rising in his throat in his attempt to breathe. It was uncomfortable, but the realization that the oxygen deprivation was having no effect on his ability to think was far more disturbing.
"Don't you think this is a bit much? Hermes is the one who's trying to start the Apocalypse. He's just using Jordan."
“How sweet. If there’s one thing the whore is gifted at, it’s seduction. That petty demon is as much her plaything as you are by this point.”
"Jordan had never even kissed a guy when we met. You seriously expect me to believe she's the Whore of Babylon?" Out of all the bullshit he’d been forced to come to terms with, that was the one thing he still wouldn’t accept. Just because Hermes was trying to force her into some twisted role didn’t mean it was true. “Jordan’s not capable of hurting a damn fly.”
"There's no need to believe what you can see for yourself soon enough," said the angel.
"And if you're wrong?” Darren demanded, clutching his stomach. "What could she possibly be capable of doing that's worth exposing yourself to all these people and potentially killing an innocent woman?”
"The Whore will seduce the masses into blasphemy, but it's not what she will do that matters. It's the one whose passage into this world she will make possible."
"That's a little cryptic for a guy who's bleeding out to decipher, bud.”
Raguel smirked. "I wonder if your smug loyalty will remain when your beloved gives birth to another monster's child?"
"What the hell are you talking about?”
"Does ‘the mother of the abominations’ ring any bells? It's not just a term of endearment."
"Yeah, you people really should have been a little clearer about which bullshit we're supposed to take literally and which bullshit is just for bedtime stories,” he choked.
Raguel struck Darren with enough force to send him into the abandoned drum set on the stage. Darren struggled to raise himself to his feet as the angel approached. He didn't care what Raguel did to him. The longer he played punching bag for the bastard, the more time Chase would have to get Jordan as far away as possible.
"Wait," Darren said, holding his hand up as another blade of ice began to materialize in the angel's hand. "Wait, I'll tell you where she is, but first you have to let these people go."
Raguel stopped, his arm raised in the air as he held his half-formed blade. "And why would I do that?"
"Because you're an angel, right? Maybe you don't give a shit about hurting one or two people to get the job done, but hundreds of innocents?" he asked, making it up as he went along. From the way the gears seemed to be turning behind the angel's cold eyes, he knew it was working. "How will it look to the others if you could have gotten what you wanted without all the innocent bloodshed, huh? Maybe you're not the downy-winged cherubs we tell kids are watching over them at night, but you must have some code of conduct. That's what separates you from us, isn't it? From the monsters?"
Raguel was silent, but it was hard to tell if that was because he was considering Darren's words or simply considering how to flay him open in the most excruciating way possible. Just when it seemed like things could go either way, he turned his back to Darren. "Move the humans inside. No one leaves until I say so."
The other angels moved swiftly at his command, herding the bewildered townsfolk toward the country club. Darren breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. The crowd was inside, but that didn't mean they were safe. As soon as Raguel figured out he was bluffing, they were in as much danger as ever, if not more.
"Now," said the angel, taking a slow, deliberate step toward Darren. "About that Whore."
Chapter Eleven
Jordan
Jordan followed Chase into the town square, which was deserted thanks to the fact that he had quite literally invited the entire town to the party. He hadn't spoken more than a couple of words in the car and none since they had gotten out of it. Gone was his jovial nature. He was in a very different mode that night and suddenly Jordan could understand why he had a near perfect record in court. It was more than a bit unnerving that he could turn it on and off so easily.
"Are you ever going to tell me why Hermes gave you the Moonstone and why you agreed to keep it?" she finally ventured as they headed in the direction of his office.
"I agreed to it for the same reason I agree to everything, Jordan," he replied in a calm if flat tone, slipping something from his pocket. At the last minute, he put his hand on her back and pushed her around the corner that led into the alleyway rather than continuing on toward his office.
"Why?" she asked, startled.
He stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into him. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Not really," she admitted.
Chase sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders in what probably would have been a reassuring gesture if he was acting like himself. "For the same reason I do everything else, Jordan," he said, his voice filling with warmth for a fleeting moment. "For you."
Before Jordan could question what that meant, he resumed walking. When he came to a stop at the bank's rear door, she hesitated.
"What are we doing here? The bank is closed and it's not exactly the time to open a joint account."
"I know, I have an appointment for that next week," he said, slipping a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it for her. "Ladies first."
"We can't go in there," she whispered, looking over her shoulder. "It's closed."
"Trust me, no one is around. It's fine."
"Did Eli give you that key?" she asked, reluctantly following him in. If it weren't for the urgency of the situation, she would have put up more resistance.
"Not exactly," he said cryptically. Even though the lights were off, there was still enough of a glow coming from the street lamps to make the small bank easy to navigate. "Follow me."
Jordan wanted to know what other option he thought she had, but she followed him in silence and watched as he walked over to the vault door. "Oh, no," she said firmly. “We are not breaking into the bank vault!”
"If we don't do this, there won't be a bank at all come tomorrow morning," he told her patiently, entering a long number into the security pad.
She wanted to ask how he knew the code, but decided she didn't really want to know the answer. "I'm committing a crime," she muttered, turning away as if that would somehow be less incriminating. "Twenty-five years of life without so much as a speeding ticket and now I'm an accessory to bank robbery."
"Darling, to be fair, you did spend a lot of that time locked away,” Chase said without stopping whatever he was doing to the vault door. “Not much opportunity for criminal enterprise.”
"Well, I'm glad you're being fai
r," she said dryly.
"I'm in," he announced after another moment, heaving the massive door open without any effort at all.
Jordan turned the rest of the way around as curiosity overrode her fear and she followed him inside. Several hundred boxes lined the walls, ranging in size from small to huge. Chase picked up a ring of keys she was fairly sure he hadn't had before and unlocked one of the boxes toward the top of the vault. It was one of the midsize safe deposit boxes and he pulled what looked like a simple metal tin out of it before setting it on the table.
"Is it in there?" she whispered.
"Yes."
She turned away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Time to go put off judgment day."
His only reply was the rapid clicking sound of the door falling shut. It was almost closed by the time Jordan spun around. “Chase!”
"I'm sorry, Jordan, but this will be the safest place for you to be when the Moonstone goes off. Someone will come for you within a few hours if I don't make it."
"What do you mean set off?" she demanded, rushing at the door only to have it slammed in her face. "Chase! Open this door right this instant," she cried, pounding on the metal sheeting in vain.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice faint from the other side.
"Did Hermes tell you to do this?" she cried. "You're just supposed to be threatening the angels with the stone, not actually using it!"
"The angels will be threatened once they understand that we're willing to follow through," he said with an unfamiliar coldness in his tone. "As for locking you in here, that wasn't Hermes' idea. I'm going against a direct order by not bringing you with me."
"An order? Since when do you take orders from a demon?"
Silence.
“Chase?”
"There are a lot of things I haven't told you, Jordan. Sometimes I wish the rumors that make you turn and whimper in your sleep were the only things about me you had to fear," he said quietly. "Nonetheless, I meant what I said. You're all that matters to me anymore and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means defying the devil himself."
