by G. P. Ching
Standing, Bonnie tugged Samantha up from the pavement.
“You two get out of here. I’ll take care of this,” Ghost said.
“What about you?” Sam cried.
“I’ll kill it and meet you.” He hooked his foot in the strap of the backpack.
Bonnie tugged at Sam’s elbow.
“Bonnie, here,” Ghost said, tossing her a card on a clip that he’d wrestled from the Watcher’s lapel.
Bonnie caught the item. The Watcher’s picture stared back at her from under the Harrington Enterprises logo. This was his identification, and her only way of getting inside. The name on the card read, C. Maxwell.
Ghost retrieved a dagger from the backpack and raised it to the struggling Watcher’s neck. Sam watched, shivering.
“Do you need our help?” Bonnie asked.
“No. You’re wasting time. It’s more dangerous if you’re here,” Ghost insisted.
“Let’s go,” Bonnie said, grabbing Sam’s hand and forcing her to move. Ghost could take care of himself, and he was probably right. If something went wrong, he could dissolve into thin air. If she stayed, Samantha would be a liability, as small as she was presently.
Bonnie forced Sam between the dumpsters, then back toward the building. Toying with the ID badge, she prayed she could pull this off. This Watcher wasn’t just influencing executives; he was employed by the enterprise. Bonnie wondered how deep she was descending into the enemy’s lair, and hoped she had what it took to make it out alive.
Chapter 13
The Beast
Bonnie broke from Samantha and approached the security guard in front of the doors gripping the Harrington Enterprises ID between her sweaty fingers.
“Mr. Maxwell. Back so soon?” the guard said, pulling the door open for her.
Bonnie nodded. Best not to offer an explanation. “Thank you, Fredrick,” she said in the voice of the Watcher.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
As she approached the bank of elevators inside, she raised her knuckle to push the call button and noticed her fingers were white from gripping the ID so tightly. She slipped the square plastic badge into her suit pocket.
“You know better than that, Mr. Maxwell,” a female voice said. Bonnie turned toward the click of heels on the marble floor. A gorgeous security guard with a thick braid of long blond hair approached, reached inside Mr. Maxwell’s pocket, and clipped the ID to the lapel of his suit. She gestured toward the doors. “With this chaos, everyone has to follow policy. Even you.”
Bonnie smiled. “Thank you.” The words came out way too high. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
The blonde giggled and winked. Oh crap, was she flirting?
To Bonnie’s relief, the elevator doors opened, and she escaped inside the empty compartment. She punched the button for the fourteenth floor, Harrington’s front desk per Gideon. The elevator ascended. Hovering above the number pad, Bonnie stared at her hands—man hands. Mr. Maxwell’s illusion had well-manicured fingers, long and tapered. These were executive hands, not hard-working hands like her father’s. He’d been a cop in Nebraska before he was killed in the line of duty, a beat cop, always willing to lend a helping hand. Bonnie didn’t remember much about him; she’d almost entirely forgotten the sound of his voice, but she remembered the feel of his hands—rough, calloused, hard-working hands.
The doors opened and Bonnie stepped out into a vast, pale space with floor-to-ceiling windows and sandstone floors. Shiny steel letters on the front desk read Harrington Enterprises. Heart racing, she glanced at the mousy secretary behind the desk—short, slightly overweight, emerging pimple over her left eyebrow. Definitely not a Watcher.
“Mr. Maxwell? Back so soon? I thought you were getting lunch?”
“I forgot something in my office,” Bonnie said in her practiced baritone.
“If you have a moment, Mr. Blake asked for you. He’s meeting with the board in conference room A, but afterward, he requested a meeting with you and Ms. Thomson at his private residence. He said to remind you to allow extra time to get across town due to the picketers.”
Bonnie nodded, hoping the woman couldn’t see the nerves she kept bottled up inside. She moved to the right. Gideon’s map of Harrington showed executive offices down the long hallway. Soon, she came across an office labeled Cordelius Maxwell, Vice President. She slipped inside.
The scent of death and blood hit her immediately. “Ugh,” she whispered, feeling nauseous. She rerouted her breathing through her mouth. The huge executive office was meticulously clean. Not a grain of dust on the hardwood floor. Not one document on the granite-topped desk. Where was the smell coming from?
She crossed to the desk and moved the mouse in a circle to wake the computer. Password protected. She expected as much. She opened the top drawer. Nothing. No pens, pencils, staples … nothing. She closed it again. Opened the side drawer. Nothing. The file drawer. Nothing.
“What does this guy do all day?” she whispered. Her eyes fell on a credenza against the wall. Slowly, she walked over to it and opened the long, narrow drawer. Fingers. She gagged, bending at the waist and catching herself on her knees. The entire drawer was filled with human fingers. White, black, yellow, brown, some manicured, some with dirt under the fingernails. All lined up and displayed like some grotesque collection.
She closed the drawer and swallowed repeatedly to keep from vomiting. Thank God she hadn’t eaten anything since Eden. There was no way she could fight the urge to empty her stomach if there was anything in it. Disgusted she backed toward the exit.
She pulled up short when the door to the office swung open. A familiar looking blonde in a black suit poked her head in.
“Cord, I thought you were going to eat?” the woman said.
Bonnie nodded, thinking it safer than testing her impression again.
“Well, get on with it. Lucifer—” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “—Mr. Blake wants to meet at the penthouse as soon as he finishes with the board.”
Bonnie stiffened. Lucifer. She’d said Lucifer. She looked at the woman’s badge dangling from her lapel. Auriel Thomson. Auriel. She was in the body of Cordelius Maxwell, Cord. Cord and Auriel, Lucifer’s right and left. He was here. Watchers weren’t just influencing Harrington Enterprises, they were running it, and the CEO was Lucifer himself!
“What is wrong with you?” Auriel asked.
Bonnie swallowed. “Need to feed,” she murmured.
“Well get it done. Blake isn’t a patient man. You know that as well as I do.” She began to close the door but paused over the threshold. “Do you have a window open in here?”
Bonnie shook her head.
“It stinks. Like sunshine and fresh air.”
Shifting her gaze toward the sunny window, Bonnie racked her head for something to say. Auriel could smell her, the scent of the Soulkeeper within filtering out her skin. What could she say? How could she explain?
Don’t panic. Think! Bonnie narrowed her eyes, trying to remember her lessons from Eden. A Watcher like Cord wasn’t human. He wouldn’t offer an explanation.
Bonnie shrugged and flashed Auriel the finger. The blond Watcher peeled her lips back from her teeth and left, allowing the door to close behind her. Bonnie blew out the breath she’d been holding.
The sound of Auriel’s heels faded as the Watcher made her way down the hall. Bonnie counted to ten to make sure she wouldn’t have to deal with her again, then skated back out, walking quickly the way she’d come. Unfortunately, in that direction, Auriel had stopped at the end of the corridor and was talking to a balding and overweight human in a lab coat.
Bonnie shifted left. If she remembered Gideon’s diagram correctly, this hall led past the conference rooms and break area and eventually to the elevators. A burst of laughter came from conference room A, and she picked up the pace. As she rounded past the break room, she heard the door open behind her and glanced over her shoulder. There he was, all blond, blue-eyed evil wrapped up
in a tailored purple suit. Lucifer. Lucifer was here in the flesh!
While shaking hands with the departing board of directors, the devil caught her eye and nodded. Bonnie tried not to react. One mistake and he’d have her soul. She nodded back, skin crawling, and turned the corner for the elevators, thankful for the stretch of hall and distraction of the board members that hopefully hid her scent. The front desk was unattended. Bonnie wondered where the mousy woman had gone, maybe to the bathroom or perhaps a Watcher was having her for lunch. At least, she wouldn’t have to make small talk with the secretary while she waited. She punched the button.
The voices from the conference room closed in. The board of directors would need to leave. What if one of them wanted to talk? What if Lucifer showed them out? She pressed the button again, then eyed the door to her left. The stairs.
Ding. The elevator arrived and the thick metal doors slid open, molasses slow. Cord! The real Watcher met her eyes through the crack in the opening elevator. Bonnie dodged for the stairs, the real Cord stumbling out behind her. She made it through the door, slamming it behind her in his face. There wasn’t a lock. Calling on her Soulkeeper strength, she jumped the railing, falling to the landing below.
The real Cord smashed into the stairwell above her. “You’re dead, Soulkeeper!”
Bonnie dropped to the next level, feet flying as she rounded the landing. Heavy footsteps pounded behind her, and a growl echoed through the staircase. Heart hammering her breastbone, she dropped over the next railing. But he was too quick. He landed next to her. Talons ripped. Blood sprayed the wall. She crumpled to the floor.
In an instant, he flipped her on her back, wrapping a hand around her neck and bringing his face close to her shredded one. “Why do you look like me?”
Bonnie didn’t answer. She struggled against his grip, but he pinned her hands under his knees. She didn’t stand a chance.
“In a quiet mood, are you?” he hissed. “Lucifer will loose your lips. Although, your friend has left me in need of feeding, and it might be interesting to try a bite of such attractive flesh.” He licked the blood from her face. She moaned, jerking her aching cheek away from his tongue.
Cord plucked Bonnie’s right hand out from under his knee and brought her fingers to his mouth. “Maybe just one.”
Bonnie began to weep as he inserted her pinky finger between his teeth. He clamped down on the tender flesh below her second knuckle. She screamed, anticipating the bite.
Instead, the Watcher’s mouth opened again, an inhuman squeal crossing his lips. Cord dropped her hand and twisting away from her. A chopstick stuck out of the base of his neck. Wham! Ghost formed over her, kicking the Watcher in the gut and sending him flying. Blinking forward, Ghost thrust a second chopstick into the Watcher’s ear and a third in its upper right side, plunging it deep, under the ribs. Cord dropped like a rock, black blood flowing.
Ghost’s hand found hers and yanked her to her feet. “Come on. That’s not going to kill him.”
He helped her down the stairs, half carrying her—quite the feat considering she weighed two hundred pounds in this form. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you kill him before?”
“I tried. A vigilante from the crowd spotted me and rescued him!”
“Oh God, Jesse …”
“I was able to blink out of there, but I had to leave the weapons behind. Thank God for the Chinese restaurant on the fifth floor.”
“Is Sam okay? Did he come after you?”
“Yeah. I made sure he didn’t find her. In fact, I distracted the bastard as long as possible. I think he got sick of chasing me.” They reached the bottom level, a landing outside a spa with a waterfall and a rice paper screen. The serenity did not match the panic within her.
“Two doors,” she said.
“Better go out the back. That way leads to the lobby and security,” Ghost said.
Pounding footsteps began again above them.
“Sounds like Cordelius has healed himself,” Bonnie said. She thrust against the bar to the rear exit. Ghost pulled her onto a side street, where a small crowd rushed her.
“What do you know about Elysium?” one man asked, shoving a microphone in her face.
Ghost pushed the man aside and ushered her around the corner, where Sam was waiting. She pulled Bonnie into the closest door, an Irish pub. The place was dark and nearly deserted. Perfect. Inside the bathroom, they joined again, quickly shifting back into themselves.
“You need Malini,” Sam said, pointing to the part of her face that felt raw and open.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Bonnie grabbed her sister’s hand and raced out of the pub. Ghost hailed a cab, and she pushed Sam through the door he held open for them. Just as she lowered herself to the seat next to her sister, she saw the real Cord emerge from the building. The crowd closed in on him, obviously confused that the same man had exited twice. Those almost purple eyes met hers, and a sneer played across his lips.
She slammed her door.
“Floor it!” Ghost yelled. Thankfully, the cabbie complied.
Chapter 14
The Second Curse
Alone in the devil’s abode, Abigail ate another nut from the package God had given her. Today, it tasted of a full Italian dinner: salad, spaghetti, and cannoli for desert. The box had kept her alive for weeks. Not the same as eating for real though. Her body had changed, her hands bone thin, her skin taking on the gray tinge of death. And there were other changes. Changes she’d rather not think about.
The box was almost empty. Did that mean she’d be rescued soon? Escape? Or maybe, her purpose would be served and she would die. Blind faith was a human condition, a privilege she’d fought for. She’d stopped trying to make sense of her circumstances a long time ago and simply surrendered to them, holding fast to the hope that this too would pass, one way or another.
The door opened and Lucifer stormed in, face red. Auriel was on his heels followed by a Watcher who could barely hold his illusion together. Flashes of snakeskin broke through spots on his neck and face. He slumped into the nearest chair, and Abigail got a clear view of his indigo eyes. Cord. Based on the black blood on his shirt and his struggling illusion, he’d been roughed up by a Soulkeeper. A human couldn’t do that kind of damage.
Lucifer rounded on Cord, dark menace filling the room. “Tell me everything. Every detail.”
“She was a redhead. Tall, thin. Beautiful by human standards. And a twin.”
“A twin?” Auriel repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Twin Soulkeepers?”
“Yes. I smelled them in the crowd, then tracked them down to an alley three blocks east. I saw red hair and attacked. One had transformed into…me.”
“The one who was in Harrington? To think, a filthy Soulkeeper walked through our front door!” Auriel shrieked. “I thought he smelled of sunlight.” She lifted the back of her hand to her nose.
Lucifer paced the length of the great room. “There were two on the list that fit this description. I thought we eliminated them.” Flames filled his narrowed eyes. “Eden. They’ve been hiding.”
Cord cleared his throat, his skin blackening around the mouth. “The twin, the one who didn’t look like me, was smaller. It was as if they worked together to form the illusion.”
Lucifer stroked his chin. “Soulkeepers as a group are not like us. They cannot imitate others on a whim. These two must have a gift, a specialized skill. I could not sense her soul. It must be part of her power to mask her humanity.” His dark eyes turned toward Abigail. “Explain about these twins, Abigail. What is the nature of their power?”
A sharp tug engaged deep within her chest, Lucifer’s sorcery compelling her to speak the truth. She resisted. Centuries living as a Watcher had taught her that Lucifer could not undo her free will, and Abigail refused to help him. She’d die first.
When enough time had passed for him to realize she would not comply, he growled in her direction. “Shouldn’t you have starved to death by now?” The dark one glared at
her. He knew. He knew she should be dead by now.
Abigail stiffened.
“There was something else, My Lord,” Cord said, thankfully breaking Lucifer’s maleficent stare. “Another Soulkeeper I couldn’t see. Invisible. I remember his smell but never saw the one who stabbed me in the neck.”
Abigail snorted. She would have loved to see Ghost make a fool of Cord.
A lamp flew from Lucifer’s hand and passed through Abigail’s chest, exploding against the wall behind her. She drifted toward the window, unharmed. If Lucifer was going to kill her, she’d go out making him as angry as possible. Abigail rested her hand on the box in her pocket. No, God promised this would not be her end.
Auriel paced, ignoring Lucifer’s outburst and fixating on Cord. “The Soulkeepers you saw, Cord, were they young ones? Teenagers?”
Cord nodded. “The ones I saw? Yes.”
“The Soulkeepers are almost always teenagers,” Auriel said, running her finger along her bottom lip.
“It is the Great Oppressor’s way to work on the soft hearts of the young,” Lucifer said.
Auriel approached him, pressing herself against his chest. She placed her hands on the lapels of his suit and lifted her eyebrows. “Young ones are required to attend schools here, My Lord.” She grinned wickedly. “All of them. We know three who attend Paris High School.”
Lucifer nodded. “We’ve tried to attack directly before, Auriel, with disastrous results. I’m not ready to expose our cause or risk our numbers. Better to be insidious.”
Auriel shook her head. “They have a system. All the young ones are required to learn the same thing. Perhaps we should run the schools and…reeducate them.”
Lucifer pinched her chin and shook gently. “You are a genius, my dear. We keep an eye on the Soulkeepers and win the young humans to our side.” Lucifer grinned. “We take a page from the Great Oppressors book and strike at the young, reeducate them to see things our way. We win their hearts.”
