Eve of Destruction

by S. J. Day

  Alec laughed through the clenching of his gut. “Abel won’t want the responsibility. He doesn’t even keep his cell phone on.”

  “But he follows the rules.”

  “Is that what you need right now? With one archangel out of commission, a rogue Alpha with an ax to grind, a rash of slaughtered Marks, and an unknown breed of Infernal on the loose? You want someone who does only what’s required and follows the rules?”

  There was a length of silence before Sabrael spoke. “I never knew you had such lofty ambitions.”

  “There is a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “True. Such as, how badly do you want this?”

  Inside Alec, frustration and fury raged. He’d played this game before; it kept his hands dirty. “What do you want, Sabrael?”

  “I have yet to decide.”

  “Makes it hard for me to decide, then. Of course, Abel won’t give you a damn thing.”

  A frightening shadow briefly transformed the seraph’s features. His bluff had been called and he didn’t like it. “I will speak to Jehovah on your behalf. As an interim solution.”

  Alec snorted.

  Sabrael’s slow smile chilled Alec’s blood. “But you will owe me, Cain of Infamy.”

  “You’ll have to take a number.”

  “Number one.”

  Pointing a finger at him, Alec said, “Get me the go-ahead first. Then, we’ll see where we’re at.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Reed watched as Eve bolted up from her crouch. Raguel was gone, two Marks were dead, and she was alone; a state that had led to two Mark deaths already today. To make matters worse, he could feel Cain like a phantom limb. Altogether, his patience was short and his temper shorter.

  She spun around, her long ponytail arcing through the air. “Jeez! You scared me.”

  “What are you doing here by yourself?” he barked. “You should have come back as soon as the girl left.”

  “I lost my gun.”

  He wanted to shake her. “I don’t give a shit. What’s your aversion to a flame-covered sword? You know you can summon one at any time.”

  The line of her mouth turned sullen. “I’m not so great with swords.”

  “You killed a dragon with one,” he reminded. “Forget the gun for now and rejoin the others. You’re less likely to be attacked in a group.”

  “What if one of the group is the killer?”

  Pausing, he stared at her for a long moment. Then he exhaled harshly. “Enough, Eve.”

  “Richens didn’t make a sound. Perhaps his attacker wasn’t perceived to be enough of a threat to elicit a scream or a fight.”

  “Or the Infernal was a witch, warlock, wizard, mage, or faery who bound his vocal cords.”

  “Like the faery who participated in the exercise today? The faery who was within several feet of Molenaar when we found him?”

  “Your conspiracy theory is mucking things up in your brain. Did the faery stink or not?”

  “To high heaven,” she groused.

  “The Infernals who work for firms have a compelling reason to stay in the archangels’ good graces—they can’t go home. You know that. You said it yourself.”

  “It seems foolish to rule them out, though.”

  He chastised her with a shake of his head. “In the history of Marks, we’ve never had a rogue Mark in training. After a few years, yes. But not fresh. They’re too new to the realities of Celestials and Infernals to decide to go one way or the other. They just float with the tide for a while until they catch their bearings.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. “Hang with me; brainstorming helps me think. So, let’s run with the bad guy Infernal theory for a bit. They must be wearing that masking stuff to hide their scent, or Templeton would have smelled them.”

  “Or the rat was lying.”

  Eve ignored him and went on. “There was no residual smell around either of the bodies. With that level of brutality, the killer would have to be worked up. Blood pumping, soul rotting . . . maybe they cut themselves. I saw a forensic show on television where they said most knife wielders injure themselves. In any case, the scene should have stunk at least a little if it was really an unmasked Infernal who did it.”

  Reed felt himself smiling, despite the events of the day.

  “You’re laughing at me,” she accused.

  “No. I’m congratulating myself. You’re going to be a great Mark, babe. If you don’t get killed first.” He gestured toward the front door. “Speaking of which, we should be tossing these ideas around with the others. Just don’t get them all riled up this time.”

  “Alec says sometimes you have to shake things up,” she grumbled, “to see what falls out.”

  “Everyone has been shaken up enough.” And it was about to get worse. Somehow, he had to tell them about Raguel without inciting total pandemonium. The Frenchwoman in particular seemed fragile.

  She nodded. “You’re right. We have work to do, too. Garza and Hogan are missing, so we should—”

  “Romeo and the princess are back. Looking rumpled and slightly worse for wear.”

  “Maybe there’s something in the water. Seems to be going around.”

  “Could be. Toss a little aphrodisiac in the food, get everyone so horny they’re too busy getting off to fight back, and wham! Take ’em out. Brilliant Infernal strategy.”

  Eve snorted. “You’re a riot.”

  “It was your idea. And where did you come up with those nicknames?”

  “Don’t you know?” She stared at him. “You were in my head.”

  And what an experience that had been. He had no idea how other women’s brains worked, but he knew he liked the way Eve’s did. It was convoluted and slightly twisted—as he’d come to accept as the norm for females—but regardless, it functioned with what he considered to be the perfect mix of creativity and common sense. She also had the hots for him. Not just the horny kind of hots, but the deeply rooted type of fascination that could lead to something that scared the shit out of him.

  “I was interested in other things at the time.”

  “Hope you enjoyed the view,” she said testily. “I got nothing out of you, besides a swift kick in the ass.”

  He hadn’t had a choice. He couldn’t allow her to see his ambition to ascend to archangel. And her role in that. “Sure you did. You’re so attuned to me now, you have no defenses. I walked right up to you and no alarms went off.”

  “It’s called distraction.” But her frown belied her words.

  “You wish that’s all it was.”

  She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and looked adorable while doing it. “Why can I still feel you and Alec in my head?”

  He was still reeling from the experience. He had a picture of Cain in his mind, one built by a lifetime of association. Yet Cain, as seen through Eve’s eyes, was not the same. “Hell if I know. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

  “Well, someone has to know what happened and how long it will last.”

  “Yes. And I intend to find out. In the meantime, let’s rejoin the others. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Eve scrubbed both hands over her face. “I feel naked without a gun.”

  The statement would have sounded melodramatic coming from most people, but Eve had spent a few hours of every week for the last few years practicing her aim at a Huntington Beach shooting range. As a single woman, living alone, she’d felt as if she needed the added protection. Reed was more inclined to think her senses had picked up on the Infernal undercurrents, even if her brain hadn’t yet been trained to catch on. She was made for this work.

  He gestured toward the door. “We’ll ask the others if they’ve seen it.”

  “Ugh.” Eve’s nose wrinkled. “I’d prefer to think it was around here somewhere.”

  Reed crossed his arms. “Why?”

  “I set it down earlier. You know . . . before.” Her gaze moved to the hallway, which was clearly visible from where they stoo
d. “I don’t want to think about one of them seeing . . . hearing . . . I would rather believe I didn’t embarrass myself.”

  “You would rather pretend it didn’t happen,” he corrected. “I won’t let you.”

  Eve glared. “If you want to remember your tryst with a tart, go ahead. But don’t presume to make that decision for me.”

  “A tryst,” Reed repeated wryly, indulging in an inner smile. “With a tart. My . . . You are jealous.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Irritated by his own feelings of guilt, he taunted her by reaching for his belt buckle.

  “Whip it out,” she challenged. “See what happens.”

  Pausing, Reed assessed her warily. He couldn’t get a read on her thoughts. “What do you intend to do to it?”

  “Did Izzie get the third degree, too?”

  “No.” His hands went to his hips. “I told her what I wanted. Her opinion didn’t matter.”

  “Yes, that seems to be the only way you like it.”

  Reed’s jaw clenched. She was referring to their lone encounter in the stairwell. He hadn’t been able to get in her fast enough. Everything in his way—her clothes and conscience—was disregarded in the intensity of his need.

  “It’s the way you like it, too,” he bit out.

  “A one-shot deal.” Her mouth thinned to a fine line. “Lucky for you, you found greener grass elsewhere.”

  It didn’t escape his attention that she was starting to sound like Alec. “The grass wasn’t greener. It just didn’t have a guard dog.”

  “Don’t blame this on Alec. He didn’t deserve to be hurt the way he was today.”

  “He’s a big boy, Eve.”

  She ran a hand over the top of her head and growled softly. “It’s one thing to know that what you’re doing can hurt someone. It’s another thing altogether to feel their pain as if it was your own. Alec really cares about me and I repay him by having a stupid crush on you.”

  Reed struggled to stem cruel words. Damn it, that stung. He could tell her that what happened today wouldn’t have been possible if they didn’t have feelings for each other, but she knew that already. It was simply easier for her to pretend otherwise. Too bad for her, he was sick of pretending.

  “The hurt you felt was your own,” he shot back.

  “And you love that, don’t you?” Her lovely face took on a hardened cast, shutting him out. “It didn’t matter to you who you stuck your dick in, but you’re gloating that it mattered to me.”

  “Think how much worse you’d feel if I’d stuck it in you. I did us both a favor.” And he was an asshole for doing it. He’d lied to himself about hiding the encounter from her. Her discovery had been inevitable, and some part of him had wanted to get to her that way. To show her how it felt to him, knowing that Cain could have her any time.

  She laughed, the sound absent of any joy or humor. “You went to Izzie for me? What a great line. Pass all responsibility for your actions to my shoulders.”

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her closer. “You would have spread your legs in a heartbeat if I’d bothered,” he snarled, “and we both know it. But like I said, I’ve seen that show. I’m waiting for the episode where you come to me.”

  As short as she was, Eve still stood up to him. Her chin lifted, her shoulders went back. “You don’t need me, Reed. You want me, sometimes—apparently only when Alec is around to be irritated by it—but that’s as far as it goes. I won’t give up what I have for that.”

  Reed pushed her away. “Then you should be really damn happy I played the gentleman today. Lord knows I didn’t do it for me.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his cell phone and turned it back on, keeping his gaze on the illuminating face rather than meeting Eve’s wounded and furious gaze. Due to Sara’s frequent calls, he had powered up his phone only long enough to call Raguel. He had no one to call now, but the act of playing with the damn thing gave both him and Eve the chance to cool down. They needed to work together on this, not bicker about what couldn’t be changed.

  His phone beeped as it woke to full operation, but there were no waiting messages. That bothered him more than a full voicemail box. Sara was more inclined to escalate her attempts than to give up.

  Eve acted as if she were focused on dusting herself off. “Let’s go.”

  “Listen.” Reed looked at her. “I don’t know how long these residual connections between us will last.”

  “We can’t get rid of them soon enough for me,” she muttered.

  “You’re starting to use some of Cain’s phrasing, and we’ve established that we can feel each other’s emotions. That could be disastrous for all of us, if we don’t get it under control.”

  “How so?”

  “If Cain is gung-ho in his hunt for Charles, you could feel the same recklessness.”

  Her frown altered into raised brows. “And if I feel fear, he could feel it.”

  “Right. Which means we need to keep you even-tempered and focused while he’s hunting Grimshaw.” Not for his brother’s sake, but for Eve’s. If she was inadvertently responsible for crippling Cain in battle, she would never forgive herself.

  “Then you should probably know,” she began with a determined glint in her dark eyes, “that if Gadara can’t get the base commander to delay those kids across the street, I’m going with them into Anytown tonight.”

  Reed froze. “You are not going back there.”

  “We can’t leave them here alone!”

  “Raguel is dead, Eve.”

  Eve stumbled back as if struck. He’d meant to break the news with more tact, but her pronouncement took him off guard.

  “Abel.” A grim masculine voice broke the heavy silence.

  Reed didn’t move his gaze from Eve, but she glanced at the door, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Montevista,” she breathed. “Where is Gadara?”

  The guard replied unflinchingly, “In the belly of an Infernal.”

  Reed studied the Mark, taking in the man’s stocky build and jaded eyes. There was a calm, steadfast air about him that inspired confidence. Reed could see why Raguel had relied on this Mark for his safety.

  Eve’s lower lip quivered. “What happened?”

  Montevista explained, visibly weary as he spoke. He looked at Reed when he was done. “Cain wants you to turn your phone on so he can call you.”

  Reed glanced down at his cell, understanding now why he’d turned it back on to begin with. He was still connected to his brother in some way. He glanced at Eve, who seemed not to notice his dismay. She might be the conduit, but if so, she didn’t feel the information passing through her.

  “What type of Infernal was it?” Eve crouched and began digging through the duffel bags again.

  “I have no idea.”

  She looked at Reed. “Was it your mystery demon?”

  “The description is the same,” he said.

  “We need to go back to that copse of trees and see what’s there that might help us go after Gadara.”

  Montevista exhaled harshly. “You don’t believe he’s dead?”

  “She doesn’t believe anything,” Reed growled, still stinging.

  Eve glared at him. “Gadara doesn’t strike me as the type to commit suicide. Isn’t suicide a sin?”

  “Murder defies God’s command,” Montevista answered. “Suicide is self-murder.”

  “So it’s doubtful Gadara would do it, right? He must have had a plan.”

  “We can hope, but how would he know how to deal with a class of Infernal we’ve never heard of before?”

  “We haven’t, but maybe he has. It’s the first time he’s seen it right? Maybe he recognized it.”

  “I doubt that,” Reed said. “Mariel and I described the creature very clearly.”

  “I’m just tossing out ideas.” Eve finally gave up looking for her gun and stood. “We also have to take into consideration the setup you walked into—fire alarm set and Infernal restraine
d outside. If they’d wanted the soldiers dead, they would have killed them before you guys got there.”

  Montevista looked at Reed. “Was she a cop?”

  “Interior designer.”

  “She’s pretty good at this for a novice.”

  “Enough to be dangerous,” Reed agreed.

  “Hey!” Eve pushed his shoulder, which didn’t budge him at all. “I’m right here.”

  He shrugged. “You’re here. Whether or not you’re right remains to be seen.”

  “You agree that the culprit is probably Grimshaw?” Montevista asked.

  “If Gadara and Alec think so,” she said, shrugging, “I’ll follow their lead.”

  “That’s a first.” Reed’s jaw set. “But you’re not going back to Anytown. That’s not debatable.”

  “It makes sense that it would be the Alpha,” she continued, ignoring him. “He’s the only demon we know of who has openly declared war on us.”

  Montevista tensed. “He has?”

  “He’s already killed me once.”

  “He has?” Running a rough hand through his close-cropped hair, Montevista cursed in Spanish.

  “And we’re not having a repeat performance,” Reed said grimly, “which is why you’re not going to—”

  His phone rang, interrupting his words. As he pulled it from his pocket, the muffled tune of his Jessie’s Girl ringtone became crystal clear. The caller’s name glowed on the screen.

  Cain.

  Growling, Reed lifted the phone to his ear. “What?”

  “Fuck you, too,” his brother retorted. “Has Montevista reached you yet?”

  “Yes. And we’re busy.”

  “Have you arranged to meet with the colonel?”

  Reed’s jaw clenched at the impatience in Cain’s tone. It didn’t help matters to see Eve and Montevista huddled together in conversation. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  “It’s absolutely my business, since I’m heading Raguel’s firm in the interim.”

  “No fucking way.” Raguel’s absence had created a firm vacancy. Shit. He should have made that mental leap earlier. His focus was still on finding Raguel, not replacing him. Once again, Cain was ahead of him, knocking him out of the running before he even had a chance to play.