Eve of Destruction

by S. J. Day

  “You’re a good friend.”

  Eve couldn’t help but consider her own obligation to Mrs. Basso. Her friend and neighbor had died because of Eve’s connection to her. What had she done since then to justify that sacrifice? Nada, aside from making a sorry, half-assed attempt at going through the motions. She was shamed to realize how little she’d done to honor the memory of such a wonderful woman.

  Shrugging, Linda said wearily, “I wouldn’t go that far. Tiffany always did more for me than I did for her and that hasn’t changed. Because of her I began researching paranormal investigations, which is how I met Roger. I think he’s the love of my life. And we receive letters every week telling us how much Ghoul School helped someone in one way or another. It’s very rewarding.”

  Eve wondered where Tiffany was now. Was she still alive? Was she still marked? “What’s her last name?”

  “Tiff’s? Pollack. Tiffany Pollack.” Linda polished off her water and screwed the top back on. “I need to take a nap or I’ll be worthless tonight. Thank you for the water.”

  “Any time.” Eve smiled. “Or at least as long as we’re here.”

  Linda hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her shorts and smiled. With the empty water bottle tucked between the palm of one hand and her hip, she looked like a Wild West sheriff with gun at the ready. “I will be seriously disappointed if you don’t join us tonight, you know.”

  “I’m still working on Gadara,” Eve said, “but you can count on me tagging along if you end up going.”

  Her mind was set; she wasn’t leaving McCroskey without Linda, Roger, Freddy, and the rest of the GS gang. Not unless she knew—without a doubt—that it would be safe to leave them behind.

  “Oh, we’re going,” Linda insisted. “This is the first time a military installation has requested our services. We wouldn’t miss it.” Linda did a little victory hop. Then she hugged Eve. “You won’t be sorry, and I will be eternally grateful. Whether Mr. Gadara comes or not.”

  “I can’t say I’ll be good for anything more than screaming inconveniently,” Eve warned. “Anytown gives me the chills in the daylight.”

  And that was before Molenaar had been killed there.

  “I’ll protect you from the bogeyman,” Linda promised with a wink. “Don’t worry.”

  “Keep her safe for me, Freddy,” Eve said, giving the Great Dane a quick rub behind the ears.

  He woofed in reply. Watch your back, too.

  Eve gave him the thumbs-up. Then she followed them into the living room to resume the search for her gun.

  CHAPTER 13

  Alec was exiting the bathroom when his cell phone rang. He sprinted the short distance to the bed where he’d tossed it. Glancing at the caller ID, he winced.

  “Shit.” He ran a hand through hair he’d just finished dousing in the sink, an ineffectual attempt to cool off his raging temper. He was ready to kill. Starting with Abel.

  The last person he wanted to deal with was . . .

  “Sarakiel,” he bit out before the phone reached his ear.

  “Sorry, mon chéri,” Sara purred. Forbidden to use her archangel gifts at God’s suggestion, she relied heavily on the power of her feminine wiles to make up the lack. “I can hear your disappointment, and I do sympathize. Your brother has not been answering his phone, so I, too, have been waiting to speak with someone.”

  He really didn’t give a shit about Sara’s issues with his brother, but that wasn’t something he could say to an archangel arbitrarily. It wasn’t her fault that he was infuriated by the distance between him and Eve, and the closeness he sensed between her and Abel. He was confused by the singular connection between all three of them. How common were such meldings? How long did they last? What were the ramifications?

  “How can I help you, Sara?” She wouldn’t be calling him unless she wanted something.

  Sara laughed softly. “Do you know why there is an emergency conference call in a few hours?”

  His brows rose. Considering the events of the last two days, he didn’t know where to start, and he damn well wasn’t going to take a stab in the dark. He liked to keep his cards hidden. “Who initiated the call?”

  “Uriel. Who else would have something worthy of bothering all of us?”

  “It must have something to do with that new class of Infernal.” He didn’t bother to answer her question.

  Moving to the table in the corner, Alec began connecting the various cords that would power up his satellite videophone. He needed to talk with Raguel about the hellhounds before the archangel spoke with the others and since the archangel was playing his power games and refusing to answer his summons, Alec was forced to reach him the secular way. He also wanted to touch base with Uriel. Uriel would explain what happened to him, Eve, and Abel this afternoon without withholding vital information, as Raguel and Sara were likely to do.

  “Yes.” She didn’t sound pleased. “That is what I suspect, but I was hoping for confirmation.”

  “Well,” he drawled, “I imagine that’s why you are having a meeting.”

  “Do not toy with me, Cain.”

  “Of course not, Sara. I would never do that.” The mark on his arm burned in reprimand for the lie. “Listen, I have my own shit pile to shovel through at the moment, but I can tell you that Raguel assigned Abel and Mariel to investigate the most recent sighting in Australia. That guarantees they’re the two most knowledgeable malakim. If you want to stay one step ahead, you might want to stick close to one of them.”

  “That might be possible, if your brother ever bothered to answer his phone. Where is he?”

  Alec had known Sara would disregard contacting Mariel. The archangel had never gotten along well with other women, even easygoing ones.

  “He’s with Eve,” he replied, knowing what the answer would do to Sara. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. While Alec couldn’t agree with that statement absolutely, he did concede that the two had their comparative qualities and he wasn’t above using jealousy to get his brother out of the way. “Considering the danger involved, he’s keeping a close eye on her.”

  “I bet he is.” Sara’s voice was tight. “I never took you for a trusting soul.”

  “I trust Eve.” And that hadn’t changed. She was certain that she was in love with him, regardless of her infatuation with Abel. While that didn’t alleviate the feeling that he’d been sucker punched in the gut by a rakshasa demon, Abel had fucked himself six ways to Sunday by messing around with the blonde. As usual, his brother had no idea how to put someone else’s feelings before his own.

  “Where are they?”

  “Fort McCroskey.”

  Sara made a disgusted noise. “A dreadful place.”

  “Lucky you’re in France.” But not for long, he’d bet.

  “Actually, I am on a plane.”

  His smile turned into a grin. “Where are you headed?”

  “California.”

  Beautiful. “When do you arrive?”

  “I have only been in the air thirty minutes.” Her frustration at her inability to use her gifts was evident in her disgruntled tone.

  She wasn’t as far along as Alec would like, but it was better than nothing. Sara would keep Abel on his toes and away from Eve. She would also have a contingent of guards with her. Security was never tighter then when two archangels were in close proximity. Eve would be in the safest spot in the world.

  “They were planning on pulling out of McCroskey,” he advised. “They should be back in Anaheim by the time you arrive.”

  “Thank the Lord for small favors. I will check in with you in a few hours. Find out where they will be when I land. And keep your phone on.”

  “If it won’t get me killed.” Alec snapped the phone shut.

  It behooved him to help her, but he only took orders from God. Presently, his latest order was to kill the Alpha, and that took precedence over everything else—including his need to deal with his relationship with Eve.

  If he ha
d his way, he’d be on Grimshaw land by nightfall. He definitely wouldn’t have his phone powered on then, although he would have it with him. Charles was the reason Alec wasn’t with Eve, so sending the Alpha to Hell had to happen as soon as possible. He certainly wasn’t waiting for a call from Sara to get things started.

  Pulling out a chair, Alec sat and used his cell to call Raguel, inwardly cursing the unnecessary inconvenience. The phone rang longer than usual, then, “Montevista.”

  He paused a moment at the unexpected voice. “Where’s Gadara?”

  “Cain.” The relief with which his name was spoken increased his unease.

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m Diego Montevista, the head of Gadara’s security team.”

  Alec leaned into the seat and asked quietly, “Where is Gadara?”

  “I t-think—” Montevista cleared his throat. “I think Gadara is dead.”

  “Say that again.”

  “There was a creature here, a beast. It s-swallowed Gadara.”

  “Impossible!” Alec bolted upright, knocking the chair to the floor. “He is an archangel.”

  “Yes, I know, Cain. I’ve lived at his side for years. It doesn’t change the fact that he was eaten alive by a . . . a thing the size of a tank. I saw it with my own eyes, and I’m not the only one who bore witness.” The conviction in the Mark’s voice was undeniable.

  “What happened to the Infernal?”

  “The earth opened up and sucked it down. One moment the beast was there, the next the ground split and it sank into the fissure. There were mortals everywhere. An entire company of soldiers stood a few hundred yards away, but all they saw was the felling of two trees.”

  Alec stared at the blank video screen, his chest lifting and falling in its same measured rhythm even as his world spun haphazardly.

  An archangel. Dead. He couldn’t imagine it. Not like this. Without fanfare or storms from the heavens. Without a shockwave that reverberated through the world.

  It was too quiet. Too still. All wrong.

  “How long has he been gone?” Alec asked.

  “Less than thirty minutes.” Montevista exhaled harshly. “It gets worse.”

  “How the fuck can it get worse?”

  “I just got off the phone with Abel. There was another fatality in the class.”

  Alec gripped the edge of the table, images of Raguel’s students sifting quickly through his mind. He reached out to Eve, felt her touch him in reply. Cool and collected. Controlled. She had pushed him aside earlier. He’d thought it was because she was mad at him; now he suspected she just hadn’t wanted him to cloud her mind with his worry.

  “Chad Richens,” he murmured, seeing the scene through her mind’s eye.

  “How did you know that?” Montevista asked. “Did they call you first?”

  “No. You need to get back to the other students.”

  “I’m on my way now.” In the background, a car door slammed shut and an automobile engine rumbled to life. “Gadara suspected Charles Grimshaw of this morning’s attack, but I’m not sure this second killing fits the Alpha’s MO. Gadara said he would circle us for a while before striking again—”

  “Charles thinks he has the upper hand; he’s not going to play it safe anymore.” And it would only worsen when he learned about Raguel. “Why was Richens alone after what happened this morning?”

  “He wasn’t. All of the other students were nearby.”

  Yet no one heard a thing, and Eve had been right there. Alec considered his options. He could get back to Monterey in a couple of hours . . .

  But first he had to understand what he was walking into. Charles wanted him. A trap wasn’t inconceivable.

  Montevista growled. “I know how bad this sounds, but my team isn’t inept. We’re being ambushed. Stalked. It’s against the rules to—”

  “Fuck the rules.” Charles had obviously tossed them into the fire. They would, too. “How did you get Raguel’s phone?”

  “He left it behind.”

  “Was his confrontation with the Infernal planned?”

  “Totally. He was gunning for it.”

  Alec’s thoughts raced. “Did you check the phone for messages?”

  “No.”

  “Do it.”

  Standing, Alec walked through the adjoining door and headed to the bathroom. Giselle lay on the pile of towels he’d spread out on the floor—still cuffed, gagged, and now deeply asleep. As he watched, she made soft chuffing noises of pleasure. His gaze lifted to the far wall. He’d bet there was a poor soul in the next room, taking a nap and having a doozy of a nightmare. Feeding the Mare.

  “Power up,” he muttered to her. “You’re going to need it.”

  “What did you say?” Montevista asked.

  Alec shut the door quietly. “Nothing. Find anything?”

  “A text message from Uriel about a conference call at three o’clock. That’s only a couple hours from now.”

  “Right. I’ll be there. Make sure Abel is there, too. Don’t let any of the Marks out of your sight, especially Evangeline Hollis. Don’t expect her to cooperate either,” he said dryly. “Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t.”

  “She’s a woman,” Montevista said, as if that explained everything. Which it did.

  “She’s my woman.”

  “Understood.”

  Alec rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window at the Mustang parked just outside the door. Hop in, hit the gas. So easy. He wished.

  “Cain?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know what to do.” The Spanish inflection in Montevista’s voice was more pronounced, deepened by sadness and confusion. “Who should I notify? Who do I take orders from? You?”

  “Yes, me. I’ll take care of the peripherals.”

  Whether Raguel was truly gone was debatable. Alec had known the archangel the whole of his life and he had yet to see Raguel do anything completely self-sacrificing. A kamikaze attack wasn’t in keeping with what Alec knew. But there was no benefit to what-ifs at this point. The fact was simple: a once-in-an-immortal-lifetime opportunity had arisen. He could step up to the plate and take over the firm for the present, proving he was capable of the position.

  But . . . the odds of him securing the necessary blessings without manipulation were slim, and thanks to Eve’s penchant for landing in trouble, he was running out of favors and secrets to exploit.

  “What do you want me to do?” Montevista asked.

  “Your job is to keep those students safe until you can be extracted. What’s holding things up in that department?”

  “Hank is flying up here, along with a crew to investigate the earlier slaying. Once they bring Gadara’s private plane, we can fly out. I tried to arrange an immediate departure, but the Monterey airport is tiny and none of the airlines had the space to accommodate the whole class on such short notice. Breaking up into smaller groups was just too risky.”

  “And venturing out in public while you’re waiting would endanger mortals. If an attack is coming, you want to be somewhere you can fight back.”

  “Exactly.”

  And yet no great battle had been fought for Raguel’s life, despite the proximity of a literal—albeit mortal—army. “Why was Raguel near a company of soldiers?”

  “The base commander gave permission for a television show to film at Anytown—the place where Jan Molenaar was killed this morning. Gadara hoped to convince the colonel to reschedule.”

  “Get Abel to follow up with that.” A television show. Somehow he’d missed that.

  “You say that as if he’ll listen to me. I’m only a Mark.”

  “—who’s following my orders. He’ll do it. And tell him to answer his phone when I call. I’ll get with him in a few minutes, and he sure as shit better pick up.”

  He checked the clock on the nightstand. Two hours before the conference call.

  The mark on his arm burned with vicious intensity, reiterating Sabrael’s ord
er to put down the wolf.

  Alec scowled heavenward. As if he could forget. He was hoping that killing the Alpha would kill the problem.

  But first he had to get over his aversion to blitzkrieg attacks. He was a sniper by nature, choosing to wait for the perfect moment. One strike, one kill. He didn’t have that luxury now. The longer Charles was alive, the bolder and more dangerous he would become.

  “I’ll talk to you at the time of the conference,” Alec said. “But if you need me beforehand, you have my number.”

  “I wish you were here. Protecting an archangel against possible threats is a hell of a lot different from protecting a multitude of untrained Marks from actual danger.”

  “I promise to get there as soon as I can.”

  Alec snapped the phone shut. Then he set to work on keeping that promise. Turning with the intent to wake up Giselle, he nearly ran into the giant occupying the doorway between the two adjoining rooms.

  “Sabrael,” he greeted, only slightly surprised. He blinked, engaging the wash of celestial tears that protected his eyes from the blinding brilliance of the being before him. Sabrael stood in his customary pose—arms crossed and legs spread wide to better anchor him to the ground.

  The seraph’s piercing blue eyes examined him. “You will proceed with your assignment, Cain.”

  “You know about Raguel?”

  “Of course.” Something dark passed over Sabrael’s features.

  “I’m going to manage the firm in his absence.” Alec never asked for what he wanted, since the answer was always no.

  “You are far from qualified.”

  “Prove it,” Alec challenged with a jerk of his chin. “Tell me who’s lived with the mark longer than I have.”

  “Foot soldiers do not advance to generals overnight, regardless of how well they have performed on the battlefield.”

  “I would hardly call the passage of centuries an overnight occurrence.”

  Sabrael’s head tilted to one side. His unrestrained ebony hair slid over a massive shoulder and the top of a wing like liquid silk. “Perhaps Abel would be the better choice,” he murmured. “He is in the thick of things, as they say.”