Eve of Destruction

by S. J. Day

  Reed offered an all-encompassing wave and took note of the various occupants in the living room—a brunette in glasses shared the couch with a goateed guy in corduroy slacks. Another guy in jeans and white T-shirt was snoring from his spot on a nearby bed. A brown Great Dane paced the perimeter of the room, while Michelle pulled up a lawn chair and offered it to him. He declined the hospitality with a shake of his head and a grateful smile.

  Eve made the introductions, then continued with her interrupted conversation. “So there you have it. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience.”

  “Hey,” Roger grinned, “We’re not going to get upset about a shot at Alcatraz at night. We’ve been signing up for the lottery there for two years now, but never get in. And even if we did, there’s no guarantee we’d be allowed to film there.”

  “I’m not sure,” Linda said. “We were asked specifically to come out here to McCroskey. I hate to burn that bridge.”

  “I’m certain the invitation will be reextended,” Reed reassured smoothly, celestial persuasion resonating through his tone. “Gadara simply wants to make some small restitution for imposing on you. He hadn’t expected that we’d be using the area in the evening, too.”

  “That’s very nice of him,” Michelle said, her eyes dazed.

  “What the heck can you all do at night, anyway?” Linda asked.

  Reed’s brows rose. The brunette seemed unaffected.

  “Lighting,” Eve improvised. “Exterior and interior.”

  “Linda doesn’t like spontaneity,” Roger explained, “but I’m excited. Alcatraz at night isn’t an inconvenience.”

  Linda frowned. “We’ll have to talk it over and let you know.”

  Reed looked at Eve. Tough cookie, he thought.

  Her mouth curved. I like her. Aloud she said, “Well, let me know what you decide. But don’t wait too long. It’s a two-hour drive from here, without rush-hour traffic.”

  “I really want you to participate in an investigation.”

  Reed was taken aback by the fervor with which Linda made her pronouncement. He had assumed Eve was pushing herself to go along with them. He hadn’t realized she was facing pressure from the “ghost hunters.”

  “I’ll take a rain check.” Eve smiled. “I promise.”

  A few minutes later, Reed was standing on the sidewalk next to Eve and they were both staring at the Mark duplex across the street. From the outside view, the place was still and quiet. Everyone was inside, all the vehicle doors were closed, all the equipment packed away.

  “I’m going to Anytown,” she said. “Coming with me?”

  He looked down at her, noting her stubborn chin and challenging gaze. “I can stop you.”

  Her lips pursed. “Why?”

  “Safety?”

  “Right now, there are three of Gadara’s Infernals, two guards, and two investigators working in Anytown. If you come, I’ll have a guardian angel, too. A veritable army.”

  Reed seized the opportunity. “You’ll owe me.”

  Eve paused, then crossed her arms. “Owe you what?”

  He looked at her hands with their slender fingers. Certain she’d had a camera in hand when she set off toward the Ghoul School house, he asked, “Where’s your camera?”

  “I left it inside.”

  “Want to go back and get it?”

  “Want to stop changing the subject? What will I owe you? It can’t be sex.”

  “Why not? Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll want.” Might as well lay it all out there. He didn’t want her saying later that she had no idea what she was getting into.

  She snorted. “You didn’t want it from me a short while ago.”

  “And you didn’t hesitate to get it on the phone with Cain,” he countered. “We both found substitutions for what we really wanted.”

  “You can’t even compare the two. They’re not even in the same ballpark. I care about Alec. You—”

  “And that makes you better than me?” he challenged, cutting her off. “I’m an asshole for blowing off steam with someone who doesn’t give a shit about what I do, but you’re on the high road for using a guy who cares about you?”

  “I wasn’t using him!”

  “Bullshit.” Reed scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is all jealous bullshit.”

  Snorting, she said, “Jealous? You flatter yourself.”

  But her mind filled with images of him with the blonde—some were memories and some were made up in her head. She was torturing herself by imagining him doing things he hadn’t done. He couldn’t appreciate her possessiveness because it was driving her crazy. Some women could live with sharing. Eve wasn’t one of them. Remorse slithered inside him, then fury.

  His arm shot out and caught her nape, yanking her closer. With his nose touching hers, he whispered, “Your jealousy has got nothing on mine. I feel it every time you come. Every time. Think about that for a minute.”

  Reed licked across her lips, then released her. “So maybe I’ll want you to wash my car in a bikini,” he bit out, “or cook me dinner. Maybe I’ll want you to answer my phone for a week or wear a particular outfit. Or maybe I’ll want to fuck you senseless. I’m not sure. But whatever it is, you have to do it willingly.”

  Her shoulders went back. “You’re a pig.”

  He grinned wolfishly. “You love it. And Cain just kicked you to the curb so you have no obligation there.”

  “He did not!”

  “Okay, if he didn’t—nothing sexual. If he did, all bets are off.” His confidence rattled her further, he could tell. But he knew a Dear John speech when he heard one and he had no problem using it to get back in her pants.

  “You’re asking for a hell of a lot for a quick look around an abandoned town,” she complained.

  He stepped one foot into the street as if to cross over. “Take it or leave it.”

  “If I leave it and go anyway?”

  “Try it. I dare you.”

  A wicked light lit up her brown eyes. “Fine. But I want more.”

  “Babe,” he drawled, “you could barely handle what I gave you last time.”

  “I need you to track down a European Mark for me.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind who. Will you do it?”

  Reed held out his hand, “Deal.”

  Eve shook on it, then took off without him. “Come on, then.”

  He quickly fell into step beside her. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

  “Not really.” She glanced aside at him. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

  He reached out and caught her hand, linking their fingers together. “I want you to tell me what you think about the new Cain.”

  Her grip tightened. “I liked the old Cain better.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I’ve got bigger things on my mind at the moment, Reed.”

  He sifted through her thoughts, trying to see if there was more she wasn’t telling him. There wasn’t. So he pressed on, hoping to milk the situation for all it was worth. “You can only be truly in love with one thing, Eve. Cain is so focused on Jehovah he doesn’t have room for you now, and look how much happier he seems to be.”

  Reed didn’t tell her that he longed for advancement even more, thirsted for it like a vampire thirsted for blood. What a relief it would be to lose his fascination for her. How much easier his life would be if he weren’t thinking about her all the damn time. But he thought about the ramifications as they related to Cain, not to himself. If Eve was in his head, she would misunderstand his thoughts on the matter.

  “That’s a lie,” she said, her gaze trained straight ahead.

  “Excuse me?” She couldn’t be that good at reading his mind . . .

  “The only-loving-one-thing part. And Alec doesn’t look happy, he looks brainwashed. Lifeless.”

  He almost asked her if she’d ever loved two people at once, but he bit back the urge. Damned if he’d get hopeful over something that was temporary by necessit
y.

  “How are you feeling physically?” he asked, noting that she was still sans the sweater jacket she’d discarded earlier. It was probably a balmy day for the locals, but for a Southern California gal it had to be chilly. The air moved briskly around them, smelling of salt and sea.

  “I’m trying not to think about me either.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not as great as I’d hoped.” She looked at him with a rueful smile. “How about you?”

  While Reed really wanted to address her issues, he was willing to go first . . . and pick her brain through their connection in the interim. “I’m worried about Raguel. It’s easier on us to believe that he knew what he was doing when he went after that Infernal, but we’re just guessing. If he’s truly gone, we are in deep shit.”

  “You don’t think your brother will be a good firm leader?”

  “I . . . I doubt it. He’s been a loner a long time and he’s been disconnected from the mark system since its inception.”

  “You’ve been anticipating the creation of a new archangel for a while,” she noted, rifling through his brain in his moment of weakness. “You wanted the job.”

  “No,” he lied, training his thoughts to follow as if he were speaking the truth. “I think a new archangel should be familiar with all aspects of the system, like I am. You misread me.”

  “Hmm . . . but you do think there should more than the seven archangels? Did I get that part right?”

  “The world has exploded from a population of two to a population of billions, yet the number of archangels hasn’t increased.”

  “Makes sense. So even if Raguel comes back, Alec could stay the way he is.”

  “Yes.”

  “I would need a new mentor, then.”

  “Yes. You could also, possibly, be reassigned to a different firm.”

  Eve didn’t say anything to that, but then she didn’t have to. He felt her distress as if it were his own. He squeezed her hand.

  They reached Anytown. Reed took in the view he had missed in his first visit to the training area. The mannequins in various states of disrepair were especially effective in creating an atmosphere guaranteed to set trainees on edge.

  “Once a coveted community,” he intoned in mimicry of an announcer’s voice, “Anytown has suffered a steady decline in recent years and is now in dire need of revitalization.”

  “Totally.” Her nose wrinkled. “This place creeps me out.”

  “That’s the point. Every time I come here, it’s deteriorated further, but it’s been a mess as long as I’ve known of it.”

  She slowed, then stopped. Facing him, she asked, “McCroskey isn’t considered an international tourist destination, is it?”

  Reed laughed. “No. Unlike Alcatraz, which has tours almost daily, the McCroskey tour is an annual one.”

  “So, would you find it strange for a foreign national to have visited McCroskey?”

  “Depends. But for the most part, yes. I would find that noteworthy.”

  Eve nodded and resumed walking, but at a slower, more contemplative pace. “Edwards said that he’s been here before.”

  “Any details?”

  “Not really, but he did say there were a lot of bugs here. He called the place a ‘dump,’ I believe. Said it was overgrown and crawling with vermin.”

  Reed’s brows rose. “You can’t tell that from the public areas.”

  “Right. When we first got here, I remember thinking that it wasn’t what I expected. It was clean, well maintained. I told Alec I thought the troops probably missed this base.” She glanced at him. “So how would a Brit know its state of disrepair?”

  “A Google search would probably reveal that.”

  “But it doesn’t explain why he’s been here before.”

  “Right.”

  They turned a corner at the end of the main street and Reed saw the diner up ahead.

  “Izzie’s been to California before, too,” Eve said. “And she showed up to training with a gun, against Raguel’s orders.”

  “Izzie?”

  She stared at him. An image of the blonde who’d sucked him off popped into his brain.

  “Oh . . .” He winced. “That didn’t look good.”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  Reed quickly changed the subject. “Are you thinking Edwards is involved in some way?”

  “Honestly, I really can’t see how he would be involved. I’ve trained alongside him for three weeks and there’s nothing even remotely Infernal-like about him.”

  “And remember, the masking agent wears off. At some point or another, an Infernal in your class would’ve reeked.”

  “Izzie, though . . . There’s something going on with her. I just can’t put my finger on it. She gives me the evil eye a lot.”

  Reed smiled wryly. “She’s probably jealous. You’re smokin’ hot. Makes me hard just to smell you.”

  “Eww.” Eve smacked him. “Don’t be crude.”

  They paused at the end of the alley where Molenaar had been killed. The Mark was long gone. Since he’d been drained of blood before being pinned to the wall, there was very little left behind to proclaim that a soldier of God had died here. A couple of holes in the wall, that’s it. Two men and two women occupied the narrow space. Two in black—Raguel’s guards—and two in navy blue jumpsuits with the initials E.P.D. on the back—the investigators from the Exceptional Projects Department.

  A female guard caught sight of him first. “Abel.”

  “Draw any conclusions?” he asked, leading Eve closer with a hand at her back.

  The nearest investigator glanced up. He had a lanky frame, gray hair, and intelligent green eyes. “We’re still collecting evidence, but the jaggedness of the wound edges suggests that the head was severed with a physically wielded blade.”

  “Because magic would have left a clean slice, like a laser, right?” Eve asked.

  “Right. There are also contusions on the wrists and ankles. Our attacker was hands-on with this killing. But preliminary tests show no signs of Infernal blood. Usually in knife attacks, the assailants injure themselves. The hilt becomes slippery with blood and their grip slips.”

  Reed smiled, remembering Eve saying something similar earlier.

  “How do you test for Infernal blood?” Eve queried.

  “By spritzing the area with holy water. Even the smallest trace will sizzle and steam. It doesn’t have the wow factor of luminol,” he said dryly, “but it works the same.”

  “I have a question,” she said. “When we first discovered the masking agent, we learned that it was Charles’s in-laws—a mage and a witch—who had cast the spell that helped create the Infernal mask. Hank said it was the combination of mage and witch, male and female that allowed the mask to work on all Infernals, regardless of classification or sex.”

  “Right.”

  She pointed at Reed. “He killed the mage, but we never found the witch. Could she have found a new partner, someone who could alter the spell sufficiently to make it longer lasting?”

  The investigator scratched his head. “Doubtful. I think it’s more likely that the intimate relationship between the original pairing made the spell potent to begin with. Unless she’s fallen madly in love with another mage or wizard, any other combination would lack that edge.”

  “I agree.”

  The voice came from behind Reed, forcing him to turn his head to see who was speaking. Hovering at eye level was a tiny blonde pixie in a minuscule green dress. Bernard. In a Tinker Bell glamour.

  Reed scowled.

  Eve leaned forward to look around him. “Hi, Bernard.”

  “Hey, toots. What a day, eh?”

  “Has it only been a day?” she asked, weariness evident in her tone. “Seems like an eternity.”

  “Let’s take a closer look,” Reed said, dismissing the Infernal.

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I saw enough earlier. I’ll just hang out here with Bernard.”
>
  “I thought the whole point of coming to Anytown was to check things out.”

  “I wanted to guesstimate the time it would take to get from the video store—where Claire last saw Molenaar—to here. When you’re done, we’ll walk the various routes and see if we can get an average timeline.”

  “We’d appreciate it,” the investigator said. “When we were called out here, it was for one scene, not two. We’re understaffed.”

  Reed looked at Eve. “Give me a second, then we’ll go.”

  She winked at him, a playful gesture that rocked him back on his heels. She took hits, but kept on trucking. That trait made him admire her, and that admiration was leading them both into dangerous territory. Especially now that Cain had apparently stepped aside.

  He’d traversed half the distance between Eve and the murder site when his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID.

  Unavailable.

  He turned the power off and shoved it back into his pocket.

  Prolonged exposure to darkness destroyed minds. Prisoners who were sent to “the hole” in prisons usually emerged disoriented and senseless. Even He Who Inflicts Punishment on the World and the Luminaries felt claustrophobic dementia flirting with the edges of his mind, and he had only been in the belly of the beast for a few hours at most. But then a prison “hole” would be preferable to the gore he was presently stewing in.

  If he was forced to fight now, Raguel would be at an undeniable disadvantage. He’d been cramped into the fetal position for hours, cocooned in his wings to protect his flesh from acid, lacking water and sitting in a waist-deep pool of Mark blood. The beast purred and cavorted gaily, inundating him with noise and nauseating jostling. Raguel definitely wasn’t at the top of his game, and that would worsen the more time passed.

  But Sammael would make him suffer for as long as possible. Not only for retaliation purposes, but because his freedom would come at a steep price.

  By the time the vessel within which he waited finally cried out its agony and collapsed, Raguel was ready to claw his way out. Light pierced into the obsidian darkness with a sword’s blade. It seeped in while the blood poured out, the exchange courtesy of the downward slice through the beast’s torso.