Eve of Destruction

by S. J. Day

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the training center. The entire floor was dedicated to creating the best fighting force of Marks possible. There were classrooms with desks as well as dojos, indoor firing ranges, weight rooms, and fencing studios. Alec sometimes stayed to watch the instructions, impressed with the level of efficiency. As the original Mark, he’d been forced to survive by the skin of his teeth. Some said he was born to kill, built for it, and he agreed.

  Eve led the way to a glass-enclosed conference room. As they entered, the conversation died and all eyes turned toward them. There were a handful of people in the room, ranging in age from late teens to middle age, male and female. Some sat around the long table that dominated the center of the room, others sat atop it with their legs dangling over the sides. Ken was pouring himself a glass of water from the silver pitcher on a nearby console. They all looked at Eve, then glanced furtively at Alec except for a nearby blonde who assessed him boldly from head to toe.

  “How are you feeling, Hollis?” asked a dark-haired Hispanic man in jeans and button-down flannel shirt.

  “Good. Thanks for asking.”

  As Alec joined Eve in the far corner, he returned every stare. Eve hopped onto the widow ledge, her lithe legs dangling and her fingers curled around the lip. They were white knuckled, betraying her unease. The tension in the room was thick and it pissed him off.

  He leaned back and crossed his arms, facing the room dead-on. Uncomfortable shuffling ensued, then a return to the previous discussion.

  Ken cleared his throat. “I cannae wait to get started.”

  “You’re two sammies short of a picnic,” a petite redhead said derisively, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  “Well,” Alec murmured for Eve’s ears only. “The girls are easily pegged with their nicknames, I think. ‘Goth Girl’ especially. I’m assuming the redhead is ‘Princess,’ since she’s covered in glitter.”

  Eve smiled. “I am so high school, aren’t I?”

  “It’s not your fault they’re easily identifiable. Besides, I liked you in high school,” he purred, alluding to the ill-fated tryst that led them to where they were today. He couldn’t regret it, and he took every opportunity to remind her of why she shouldn’t regret it either.

  Eve bumped her shoulder into his. “Can you guess which one is ‘Mastermind’? That one’s a bit harder.”

  Alec looked around. There were seven people in the room besides themselves. Since he had already identified four of the Marks, he quickly ruled them out—Ken, the red-haired princess with her glitter mascara and lip gloss, the Goth girl with her pale blond hair and pixie-perfect features, and the “Fashionista” whose height and rail-thin figure were the stuff of supermodel dreams. The remaining occupants were the guy who greeted Eve when they entered, a wan and slightly portly teenage boy in a nylon jogging suit, and a gray-haired gentleman in dress slacks and polo shirt.

  “The old guy?” he guessed. “He kinda has that Magneto vibe.”

  “You’re older than he is,” Eve reminded. “And no, he’s ‘Gopher.’ His name is Robert Edwards.”

  “Okay. Then it’s the guy in the jeans.”

  “Nope.”

  Alec’s eyes widened. “The kid? You’re shitting me.”

  Laughing, she said, “No, I’m not. He’s older than he looks. Early twenties. Name is Chad Richens. He and Edwards are both from England, so I’m guessing that’s one of the reasons why they gravitated toward each other. The other is that Richens can come up with schemes, but he doesn’t like to do the dirty work.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the time he had Edwards swap out everyone’s bayonets with dull ones from the previous day. We all worked twice as hard as he did that session, because he and Edwards were the only ones to have freshly sharpened blades. It was Richens’s idea, but Edwards was the one who actually made the switch. Claire freaked when Ken figured it out. I thought she was going to give herself an aneurism.”

  “The fashionista?”

  “Yes, Claire Dubois, from France. Isn’t she gorgeous? She says she wasn’t before the mark. Apparently, she used to be a meth addict. She burned her apartment down and killed her boyfriend in the process, which is why she was marked. She’s still very high strung and fidgets a lot.”

  Alec studied the teenager. “How is Richens doing in the physical portion of the class?”

  “Not good. Even with the help of the mark, he has trouble with the combat training, which is why I think he tries to get through the sneaky way. He’s a video game junkie and strategy is his strength, not his fists. He also has a short fuse.” Her voice lowered. “Edwards told me Richens’s dad was abusive. I think he carries some of that around with him.”

  It didn’t escape Alec’s notice how well Eve had researched her classmates in order to better understand them. It was a sign of a natural hunter. Killing wasn’t merely a physical act. It was also cerebral. “There must be some potential in him, or he would have been assigned to a nonfield position.”

  “He killed someone. I don’t know the details. He won’t talk about it.”

  “Murderers usually end up with field work automatically.”

  “Stupid,” she muttered. “I think his being here is a major screwup on someone’s part.”

  “Watch it.” Alec shot her a chastising glance. Eve’s beliefs were her own and he respected her right to have them, but sometimes she voiced her opinions in a way that was too irreverent to be safe. “So, that leaves us with the dark-haired guy. He’s ‘Romeo,’ I take it.”

  Eve nodded. “Antonio Garza, from Rome. But that’s not why I call him Romeo. He’s got a thing going with Laurel . . . and being discreet isn’t his strong suit.”

  “Which one is Laurel? The princess?”

  “That’s the one. Laurel Hogan. Romeo wooed the Goth girl first, but she says he’s too much of a gigolo for her tastes. He’s better off with Laurel anyway. If you ask me, Izzie is missing a few tools in the shed.”

  Alec studied the petite blonde with a calculating eye. She was slender, pale, her blue eyes rimmed with thick kohl and her mouth painted a dark purple. He would describe her as “delicate,” despite her spiked collar and cuffs. “Why do you say that?”

  “Izzie’s pulled a Bowie knife on damn near everyone in this room at some point or another. She doesn’t like any of us.”

  “That’s an odd name.”

  “It’s short for Iselda. Iselda Seiler. ‘Izzie’ suits her more than ‘Goth,’ I think. Like the other girls, her nickname is more of a description than anything else.”

  Alec noted the guarded way Eve watched the other woman. Not that he blamed her. The blonde had been mad dogging him since he entered. “You don’t like her.”

  “I don’t mind her,” she corrected. “But she sure seems to have a problem with me. More so than the rest of the class, and that’s saying something.”

  “Is there anyone here you get along with?”

  “Well . . .” Eve shrugged. “I don’t not get along with anyone, but I haven’t made any friends either. I just keep a low profile and stay out of the way.”

  Alec turned to face her. He asked her about her experiences in class every day, and every day she found a way to redirect him to another topic. Their present conversation was the most she had shared to date.

  “How does Raguel feel about that?” he asked. “I bet he wants you front and center.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Sure, so he can pick on me and point out all the ways I’m doing things wrong.”

  Alec’s jaw clenched. When he was done with Charles, he would deal with Raguel. Eve had innate talent. It was a travesty that she didn’t know it because the archangel withheld his praise.

  As if Alec’s thoughts served as the archangel’s cue to appear, Raguel entered the room by floating through the glass door, displaying for one and all a small portion of his power. He was dressed casually in loose-fitting indigo linen pants and tunic, but the intensity that radi
ated from him belied the outward appearance of leisure.

  A brief nod passed between Alec and the archangel, then Raguel looked around the conference room. His lyrical voice rolled though the room like smoke, “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, moreh,” the class greeted in unison, using the Hebrew word for “teacher.”

  Raguel frowned. “Where is Molenaar?”

  “He hasnae shown his face yet,” Ken answered.

  Alec glanced at Eve, trying to remember which classmate was absent.

  Her lips formed the words, the Stoner.

  Nodding, Alec wondered at the composition of students in the class. Two former drug addicts, a teenager with poor motor skills, and an elderly gentleman most likely set in his ways. Marks came in all shapes, sizes, pasts, and temperaments. But only select Marks became hunters rather than behind-the-scenes personnel with occupations like personal assistant or travel coordinator.

  It was Dubois and the absent stoner who most disturbed him. Addicts had the hardest time acclimating to the mark. In addition to the loss of their homes, family, and friends, they also lost their crutch. The mark was an instant cure, changing the body so that mind-altering substances were no longer effective. Some novice Marks went crazy facing reality. They hadn’t been capable of functioning without drugs in their ordinary mortal lives. It was impossible for some to cope with sobriety in an extraordinary world filled with demons who wanted them dead.

  “We will leave on the hour,” Raguel said, “whether Molenaar is present or not.”

  Eve raised her hand. “What is the purpose of this field trip?”

  Raguel widened his stance and crossed his arms. He raked the room with a sweeping glance. “All of you carry fear. You must face it and learn to see past it. You have been tasked with eliminating the vilest of Hell’s denizens. The horror movies you enjoyed in the past are nothing compared to what you will face daily. I am taking you to a place where fear will be your closest companion. You will learn to function at your best when confronted with the worst.”

  Alec felt Eve shiver.

  He reached for her hand and tugged it from the lip of the window ledge. His fingers linked with hers, a silent offer of comfort. To say he felt shitty for his part in her marking would be an understatement, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He couldn’t change what happened in the past. He could, however, change the future. But he wasn’t working as hard on that as he should be.

  Eve wanted him to help her shed the mark and he’d promised that he would. But her desire to be free competed with his need to keep her around long enough to learn the mark system from the ground up. It was the best way for him to position himself as the most obvious choice to head a new firm. The Infernal threat was growing and more Marks were needed. Alec wanted to step into position as soon as expansion was finalized. He couldn’t do that as the outsider he’d always been. The wanderer, cursed to roam. Through Eve, he was finally established in one place, watching Marks from their inception. Once he completed mentor training, he would have hands-on experience with every aspect of the system. No one would be better suited to lead than him.

  “You will learn to work together,” Raguel went on. “You are not in competition with one another, although some of you act as if you are. You are a team; your goal is the same. The loss of one weakens all of you. By the time we are done, you’ll have become accustomed to both surviving and helping your brethren survive as well.”

  “Sounds flash,” the princess—Ms. Hogan—said.

  “Sì.” Romeo winked at her.

  Richens shifted uncomfortably. Izzie yawned.

  Edwards, however, drummed his fingertips into the tabletop. “I’ve been to Fort McCroskey. The place is a dump. Overgrown with weeds and crawling with vermin.”

  “Eww.” Laurel’s nose wrinkled. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “I will protect you, bella,” Romeo drawled.

  “You will all protect each other,” Raguel corrected.

  Ken rubbed his hands together. “We can do this.”

  “Is there Wi-Fi?” Richens asked.

  “Of course.” Raguel smiled indulgently. “All the modern conveniences. I do not want to completely isolate you. The intent of this exercise is to simulate actual field situations.”

  “Simulate?” Eve’s fingers tightened on Alec’s. “Are the Infernals we’re hunting simulated, too?”

  “In a fashion. Your prey will be real Infernals. There’s nothing on Earth capable of reproducing their scent, so we have to use actual demons.”

  A ripple of laughter moved through the room.

  “But they work for me,” Raguel went on.

  “A pity that,” Ken muttered. “I was hoping we’d finally get to kick some demon arse.”

  “All in good time, Mr. Callaghan. Gather around the table, please. Let us pray for success in our endeavors before we depart.”

  The students stood, forming a motley group that made Alec ponder the future of the mark system. Eve freed her hand from his grip and slid off the ledge.

  His brows rose.

  “I’m going to step outside,” she whispered.

  Izzie approached. “I’ll join you.”

  “I would prefer you two remain,” Raguel called out, having picked up their exchange with his celestial hearing. “Whether you join us in prayer or not is moot. We need to act together in everything.”

  Alec caught Eve around the waist and drew her back against him. He said a prayer for both of them. With the way their luck had been so far, he knew they needed all the help they could get.

  CHAPTER 3

  As her car approached the unguarded entrance of Fort McCroskey, Eve took in her surroundings. In the glow of the setting sun, the signage delineating the end of public land shimmered from a recent coat of fresh paint. The road beneath her tires darkened as she crossed the threshold, compliments of a new layer of asphalt. Ahead, lights attracted customers to the commissary, the parking lot of which boasted more than a few cars.

  “It doesn’t look abandoned to me,” she said. “Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but I pictured this place looking a lot different. Cobwebs and tumbleweeds. That sort of thing.”

  Alec glanced at her from the passenger seat. “You haven’t seen the best parts yet.”

  “Oh, great. Something to look forward to.”

  “Look forward to me coming back,” he purred, giving her one of his looks. He was, quite simply, ferociously sexy. And he knew it, which made him even more dangerous.

  She jerked her attention back to the road. “You’re going to get us into an accident. It’s hard to drive when your toes are curled.”

  Eve slowed to maintain the distance between the front of her car and the white van carrying the other Marks. The white Chevy Suburban behind her carried six of Gadara’s personal guards, as well as a week’s worth of provisions and all of their equipment.

  Occasionally, some of her classmates looked back at her, but never with any show of friendliness. She probably should have ridden with the group to foster solidarity, but she didn’t have the energy. She didn’t know if coming back from the dead was supposed to feel like killer PMS or not, but she was seriously cranky and sluggish.

  They drove down streets lined with homes whose architecture ranged from 1950s duplexes to 1980s single-family dwellings. The residences were all well lit, with cars in the carports and large manicured yards. She’d done some research on the place and learned that it had been established in 1917, became an official fort in 1940, and closed in 1994. Nowadays, it still served a variety of uses, both civilian and military. The homes they passed now were occupied by married soldiers attending the nearby Defense Language Institute and the Naval Postgraduate School.

  Eve lowered the window and let the crisp, salt-tinged air into the vehicle. Although the base hugged the same Pacific Coast as her condominium, the northern climate was very different. The temperature was cooler, the sky more overcast, and the trees were pines instead of palms.
She wished they were riding Alec’s Harley instead, but the seven-hour ride would have been tough even for a mark-enhanced body.

  “I bet the soldiers who were stationed here loved it,” Alec said.

  “It’s a shame it’s closed. I had a friend whose brother was stationed at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. He called it ‘Fort Lost in the Woods, Misery.’ I’m sure he would much rather be here.”

  “No doubt.”

  They followed the van around a bend in the road. Eve caught sight of a building with boarded-up windows and butterflies took flight in her stomach. She told herself it was a mental thing—her body wasn’t supposed to react to stress—but that didn’t help. She was nervous and scared. “So . . . Do you know anything about the training that goes on here?”

  He reached over and squeezed her knee. “I checked around while they were loading up the Suburban. Raguel has only used McCroskey a couple times so it was difficult to find anyone who has been through the experience. The two Marks I spoke with said it was a pivotal assignment for them, one that changed their perception of everything.”

  “For the better?”

  “So they say.”

  “Only two Marks?” She swallowed hard. “What happened to the rest of them?”

  Alec shot her a wry look. “They’re out in the field, doing their job. They’re not dead.”

  Eve exhaled in a rush. “Good to know.”

  “I will get you out of this before it kills you,” he vowed, looking grim and determined. “You’re not going to end your days marked.”

  Her reaction to his promise was so mixed, Eve couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Three weeks ago, her reply would have been, “You bet your ass.” Now, she was ambivalent. She had never in her life quit something because she didn’t like it. She made it to the end before saying she’d given it her all.