The Rise of Babylon

by G. A. Rael

  Maybe he was wearing earphones, she thought. Chase loved music, even if he was particular about it. She knocked louder but there was still no answer.

  Jordan frowned, feeling the duplicate key to the office burning a hole in her pocket. She had thrown it out more times than she could count only to fish it out of the trash each time. She knew it was wrong to invade his privacy, but she also knew she was never going to get answers if she was afraid to take them for herself.

  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door to find the office empty. It didn't make sense. Bob was observant. If Chase had passed him on the way out, he would have remembered it.

  Chase’s office was as neat as always, save for a small, uncharacteristic mess on his desk. He had left a stack of papers out and his computer screen was open. He had obviously been in the middle of working when he left, which was strange in and of itself. Jordan had once made the mistake of trying to seduce him away from a case he had brought home only to be told that he would happily ravage her as soon as his document was backed up and his folders neatly put away.

  Jordan bit her lip, sitting down at the computer chair. Even if she wasn't convinced that snooping in his work files was a felony, she doubted they would yield any information relevant to what she wanted to know, so she left the computer alone.

  In fact, she wasn't sure what she wanted to know. If nothing else, she hoped she would find something that would put her on the right track as far as which questions she needed to ask.

  The desk drawers confirmed nothing other than Jordan's suspicions that Chase should probably be treated for clinical OCD. He had a tray that kept his pens separated by color and another row of small storage boxes for paperclips, thumbtacks, binder clips and rubber bands. If there was anything that made her question whether he had the potential to be a killer, it was his uncanny knack for organization.

  There was one drawer that was locked and Jordan regretted not making a copy of more than just his office key. She felt around underneath the desk, not really expecting to find anything when her fingers brushed across a key taped to the underside of his desk.

  "Come on, Chase," she muttered under her breath. The drawer slid open effortlessly, but its contents were instantly disappointing. Only a pair of cufflinks so well polished they gleamed, a pair of scissors, some sealed folders she didn't dare breathe on never mind move, and a long envelope with what looked like tickets sticking out. She carefully slid the tickets out of the envelope and gasped when she realized they were for a show she had been wanting to see for years. It was always sold out and she had no idea how he had gotten them. The show was a few days before her birthday.

  Jordan placed everything back the way she had found it and slid the drawer back carefully, like the whole desk might crumble if she shut it too hard. Now she had no answers and she felt like shit.

  She carefully pushed the chair back in and peeked through the blinds before wandering over to the bookshelf. There were eight full shelves that lined one entire wall, each packed with a whole series of legal texts. From state law to the United States Constitution, his office had its own perfectly alphabetized library of everything anyone could possibly need to know about criminal law, torts, tax code and... The Creatures of Gaelic Lore?

  Jordan frowned, slipping a simple red book off the shelf that stood out from the others only by its title. When she opened the inside cover, there was no author's biography or pretext. Just a table of contents and page after page of lore on all the fabled creatures of the British Isles. The Black Dog, Dragons, Elves, the Fae, Tom Thumb and the Wyvern were all discussed in candid detail with a few supposed eyewitness accounts peppered in for good measure. Most of the creatures Jordan had never even heard of, but a few brought back sparse childhood memories of the fairy tales that had made it past her mother's stringent filter.

  Chase was about as far from whimsical as it got. She couldn't imagine why he would even have such a book, never mind why he would keep it on the same shelf as his legal texts. Out of sheer curiosity, she turned to the page on the Black Dog first. It was an otherworldly creature that lingered near death and ferried the souls of the dead to Hell.

  The front door closed and Jordan nearly dropped the book. She pushed it back into its slot on the shelf and bolted from the room, barely managing to lock the door and collapse against it before Chase appeared around the corner.

  "Oh, Jordan. This is a pleasant surprise," he said in a strained voice that made it clear her appearance was anything but. Jordan knew she didn't have the right to be hurt after such a gross betrayal of his trust, but that didn't stop her. His vacant smile turned to a frown. "Are you alright? You seem... damp," he said, dabbing at her forehead with the corner of a handkerchief she had no doubt he was going to throw in the wash afterward.

  "I'm fine," she assured him. "I just, uh, ran up the stairs. I should get in better shape."

  "Your shape is perfect," he said, giving her an appreciative once over that made her slightly less concerned his avoidance was the result of him no longer finding her attractive. "A nice brisk walk in the mornings would reduce your risk of heart disease by fifty percent, though. I heard it on the radio the other day."

  Jordan sighed. "I'll keep that in mind. Look, I'm sorry to bother you. I know you don't like surprises, but we keep missing each other and I—well, I really miss you," she admitted. "And we need to talk about what happened at the party."

  "I know," he said with a strangely sad smile. "And we will, I promise. Just not tonight. I'm actually meeting Jason in New York to talk about the promotion."

  "That's another thing we need to talk about," she murmured. "I'm supposed to pressure you into joining the town council, but I don't even know if you'll still be in town come January. Or what that means for us."

  Chase set his briefcase down and took her face in his hands, looking intently into her eyes. "Jordan, I meant what I said that night. Nothing is more important to me than you are. No matter what else changes, that never will."

  She leaned into his hand, wondering when his touch had become such a source of comfort. Even if he was also the source of most of her distress at the moment. "Have fun in New York," she said, reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in his button-down.

  "I wouldn't call it fun," he said, running a hand through his hair. "When I get back, maybe we'll take a trip of our own. That's my idea of fun, even if we can only make it to a cabin in the woods.“

  "Mine too," Jordan agreed, closing her eyes when he leaned down to kiss her. Her legs turned to gelatin as she draped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. When he kissed her, it was easy to forget all his eccentricities and the apocalyptic prophecies that had been swirling around in her mind ever since the night of the party. Whenever she was in his arms, as few and fleeting as those moments had become, she felt safe in a way she couldn't quite explain.

  The kiss ended much too soon, but Chase held her for a moment, probably because she looked as unstable as she felt.

  "I should get going if I'm going to make my train," he said, glancing at his watch. "Your show is on soon anyway, isn't it? The one you watch with Mrs. Herrin, I mean."

  "Oh," she said, still a bit dazed. "Yeah, but she canceled."

  "Why?" His surprise was justified. If there was anyone as set in her habits as he was, it was Julia Herrin.

  "She has a date," Jordan said wryly. "She finally said yes to the butcher."

  "Alec Meridan?" His eyes widened. "Jordan, you didn’t—?”

  "Of course not! I think all the black magic, white magic stuff is nonsense, but casting a love spell on two unsuspecting people is about the lowest you can go," she said, folding her arms in indignation. The matter had been a source of great conflict with Hermes. "Apparently, our engagement party was so traumatic it made a lot of people do some deep thinking about the brevity of life and one thing led to another.”

  "They say the hallmark of a great party is one your guests will always remember," Chase said brightly, leaning to
kiss her on the forehead. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone, hm?"

  "I will," she promised. Chase walked her to the door and they parted ways.

  And just like that, Jordan had no plans for the evening. She told herself that was probably a good thing after all the nonstop socialization leading up to the party, but if she was being honest with herself, the idea of being alone scared her more than anything.

  Too much time alone with her thoughts was the very thing that had turned Heaven into Hell.

  Chapter 16

  Darren

  "So, you really gonna keep avoiding Jordan like she's got the plague or do I have to stage an intervention?" The angel cut an imposing silhouette looming over the pool table. He frowned intently at the neatly racked triangle of pool balls and squinted slightly as he pulled the stick back for his first shot. Only a few balls were even slightly dislodged from the cluster. "Well, shucks," Samael muttered, flinging his hat to the ground with enough force that Darren thought it might go through the floor.

  "Everybody sucks their first time," Darren said, inwardly relieved that there was something the angel wasn't good at.

  "Save the consolation for your patients, doc. I ain't no cat."

  Darren chuckled, leaning over the table as he tried to find the best angle on Sam’s last bad shot. He couldn't help but smile at the slew of curses the angel uttered when he sunk two stripes. "I'll shelve my pity when you stop worrying about my love life. Or lack thereof."

  "I'd like to, if it wasn't for Jordan coming at me with those big puppy dog eyes," Samael said, crossing his arms as he watched Darren line up his next shot.

  "You've supposedly been alive since the beginning of time. You're telling me you can't handle disappointing one little witch?" he asked, stepping back from the table.

  Sam had no sooner taken his shot than it was Darren's turn again. "Why do you think I had to turn in my badge?" he asked sourly. “I only have one weakness, and she’s it.”

  Darren sighed, sinking another stripe. "Well, it's the same problem for me. You think I want to be the one to tell her what Chase is? Hell, I'm not even sure what he is myself, but he's definitely not human."

  "She needs to know, especially if he's a threat. She's bound to figure out we're keepin' watch outside her apartment sooner or later."

  "You were closer to him than anyone. She trusts you and you don't have a history with Chase like I do."

  "I was a bit distracted, in case you didn’t notice. I can’t even tell you what he is one way or another,” Sam replied. He sunk a ball for the first time and it only seemed to hit him a moment later that he had been successful. "Well spank my ass and call me Suzie, I got one."

  Darren's eyes narrowed. "You're an angel. Why do you even talk like that?"

  Sam chuckled, ignoring him. He lined up his next shot and missed.

  "You know," Darren said, leaning on his stick. "Since you're improving and I'm consistently mediocre, we could make this game a little interesting."

  Samael eyed him warily. "Look, I appreciate you lettin' me crash at your place and all, but this door only swings one way and that's in the direction of wherever the ladies happen to be."

  Darren rolled his eyes. "I meant I'd like to make a bet. If I win, you're the one who warns Jordan about Chase. If you win, I pay up. In cash," he said, holding up a wad of bills before placing it on the edge of the table.

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I am a mite strapped for earth currency at the moment. Eh, what the hell. Let's rack 'em up," he said, clearing the table before Darren could stop him.

  "There's no need to—” he broke off, sighing. "That works, I guess."

  "Tell you what, you go first this time," Sam said, skirting away from the table. "I think my luck's about to change.

  Hope not, thought Darren. He felt a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of an angel, but having that conversation with Jordan was just about the last thing he wanted to do. He told himself it was because she probably wouldn't believe him, but the truth was that he didn't know if he could handle seeing the look on her face if she did. Any pleasure Darren might have taken in getting her to finally see that Chase wasn’t who she thought he was had gone out the window when he realized she actually loved the guy.

  Darren's first shot was lackluster, sinking only a single solid, but it afforded him another. The next two landed one each and he began to relax as the likelihood of sending a proxy to deliver that unpleasant news seemed more and more likely. He stepped back, nodding for Samael to take his turn.

  As the angel stepped forward, something shifted in his posture. He still held the stick lazily, but his broad shoulders were hunched and his light brown eyes scanned the table with analytical focus. Even before the first three stripes went in, Darren knew he was screwed.

  "You hustled me." His tone was a mixture of disbelief and awe.

  Samael’s grin widened as he circled the table, giving Darren the distinct feeling of a tiger stalking its prey. "Now why would you go and say a thing like that?"

  "Because you seem to have gone from not understanding what ‘the little white one’ was for to grandmaster-level prowess in a remarkable amount of time," Darren said, watching as Sam sunk another shot. Then another.

  The angel gave a good-natured laugh that made Darren want to wring his neck like a wash rag. "What you need is another beer, on me."

  "You mean on me," Darren shot back. "Tell me, do you hustle the little kids you guard, too?"

  "I would’ve if any of 'em were as bad as you are at pool," he said without missing a beat. "Besides, I don’t do much guarding these days.”

  "Wait, you weren't always an archangel?"

  "Nope. We've got ranks and promotions just like any organization. Guardian is pretty much an entry-level gig, but a few angels like it so much they stay. Me? I kissed a lot of ass and worked mine off getting promoted."

  "Well, at least I got hustled by a ruthless corporate angel instead of a fluffy little cherub," sighed Darren. "I guess that's something."

  "Yep."

  Darren cringed when the eight-ball sunk into the corner pocket and Samael raised the cue over his head. For a moment, Darren was afraid he was going to break it, but he settled for a triumphant fist pump and a "Whoo!" that drew attention from the few people in the hall who weren't already aware of how badly Darren had gotten screwed.

  "Bend me over the table while you're at it," Darren grumbled.

  Samael chuckled, throwing his arm around Darren's neck while simultaneously pocketing the cash. "Come on, let's grab that beer. Didn't you say you had a friend who might be joining us?"

  "Never responded to my text. I think I'm being ignored."

  "Tell you the truth, I'm kinda glad. I've been wanting to get to know you a little better seeing as how you're part of Jordan’s harem and all.”

  Darren cringed. “In name only,” he said, taking an empty stool.

  The bartender gave Darren a sympathetic look as she placed two frothy mugs in front of them. "You boys need anything, just whistle," she said, winking at Samael.

  "Will do—” The angel hesitated, leaning over to read her name tag, "Rhonda." He tipped his newly reclaimed hat to her before he took a sip of beer. He watched as she made her way over to the other end of the bar and let out a low whistle. "Small-town America does have its charms."

  "Guess so," Darren said, taking a huge gulp. As always, it was a chore to get drunk enough to matter those days.

  "Come on, you tellin' me an ass like that don't at least pique your curiosity?" Samael asked, nudging him.

  Darren steadied his glass, but some liquid still sloshed out over the brim. "That's what I'm tellin' you."

  "Huh." The angel's nails rapped against the fake wood surface of the bar. "What about that Allison girl, then?"

  "I'm sure you already know all there is to tell," said Darren. “Allison was my girlfriend in school. She cheated on me and I dumped her. We reconnected last year, and it tanked again. Not exactly the lo
ve story of a lifetime.”

  "Why'd it tank?"

  "We differed too severely in our opinions on offshore drilling."

  "I'm serious," Samael said, dropping his jokey veneer for a moment. "You know more about me than I know about you. I thought we had a bro thing going."

  "You hustled me."

  "Just a little bondin' between brothers," Sam said, grinning again.

  Darren rolled his eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that Samael’s loud voice was drawing attention, but he caved. “Jordan, alright? We broke up because I found out Allison did something really shitty to her and I lost it."

  "That doesn't sound good," he said, frowning. "Still, you broke up with your fiancée over a squabble with your ex?"

  "It wasn't like that," he mumbled. "Okay, maybe it was, but it doesn't matter now. Even before Hermes returned my memories, Jordan has always been this line that can't be crossed. Yeah, I've hurt her enough on my own, but the idea of anyone else screwing with her is just —”

  The handle of the mug snapped off in Darren's hand. He stared down at it, bewildered.

  Samael laughed nervously and Darren realized the couple down at the other end of the bar was staring at them along with the waitress. "Damn cheap plastic."

  "Those are glass," the bartender said, blinking.

  "Another round please, sweetheart," Samael called. One flash of those pearly whites was all it took to make Rhonda forget about the broken glass. She reappeared with two fresh mugs a moment later.

  "So," said Samael, "Safe to say you’re stepping into your role as a familiar nicely.”

  “Familiar? I can’t believe I’m actually correcting this, but technically, I’m her consort.”

  “You’re both. A familiar is any infernal creature that lends a witch power and acts as a glorified pet. Zombies are just about the most loyal damn familiars you can come by, second only to a werewolf. Everything you felt for other people while you were alive gets redirected to your mistress.”

  “Mistress?” Darren grimaced. “I’m not a dog.”