by Ching, G. P.
Gagging, she closed the container and placed it back inside the paper bag. She would have liked to put the whole thing in the garbage under the sink, but Lucifer’s enchantment only allowed her to touch the food and packaging. With her hand resting on the box in her pocket, she returned to her place by the window and waited for God’s promise to unfold.
Chapter 12
Harrington Enterprises
“The street is blocked. You’ll have to go on foot.” The cab driver pulled over at the edge of the burgeoning crowd, scratching the stubble on his chin as if the people in front of his cab were a mystery to him.
“There must be a thousand people on this street,” Bonnie said, handing the driver a twenty. “What’s going on?” She opened the door and let Ghost and Samantha out while the driver made change.
“Are all these people shoppers?” Ghost asked, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder, heavy with weapons from Eden.
“Nah. These guys are picketing that, er, pharma company. All bullshit. These hipster tree huggers think Harrington created that bird flu goin’ round in order to sell the cure.” He handed her eight dollars change.
Bonnie pocketed the five and handed him back the three singles. “You don’t think Harrington’s behind the bird flu?”
“Listen, girly, I don’t know nothin’ about these conspiracy theories but when I got sick, I took the Elysium and now I’m better. Thank you, Harrington.” He made a rough salute with his meaty hand.
A sharp tug on her elbow reminded Bonnie they needed to keep moving. “Right,” she said to the cabbie. “Glad you’re feeling better.”
The driver nodded and pulled back into traffic.
“Looks like Harrington is in deep doo-doo over Elysium,” Samantha said, eyeing the picketers as she blended into the crowd.
“Well, you heard Mom; that’s why we’re here,” Bonnie whispered. “Malini suspects there are Watchers behind this, and we know Lucifer’s behind the Watchers. We gotta try to find the source. If we can kill the Watchers influencing the executives at Harrington, we might get a foothold in this war.”
The woman next to her thrust her sign in the air and shouted, “Elysium is poison! Elysium is poison!” Her sign had a giant “E” with a red slash through it and smaller letters that said Elysium is more addictive than heroin, cocaine, and meth combined.
Ghost leaned in and whispered into Bonnie’s ear. “I’m going to blip to the front and see what I can see. I’ll text you.”
She nodded, as did her sister on his other side. Then he was gone. The crowd pressed in around them. Slowly, they snaked through the mass of chanting bodies and bouncing signs toward the front of the building.
“I’m scared, Bon.” Sam squeezed her hand, muscling her way through the throngs of people. “These people look really angry.”
“They’re not angry at us,” Bonnie said.
Sam paused in the crowd and cocked her head to the side, meeting her sister’s gaze.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Sam.”
Jolting, Sam fumbled for the phone vibrating in her pocket. “Jesse says there are cops upfront enforcing a barricade so that workers can come and go from the building. They are verifying everyone. The lower levels aren’t even Harrington-owned, but everyone who gets in has to show credentials.”
“Oh,” Bonnie said. “So how do we know who to look like to get in?
Sam shrugged.
They reached Ghost at the front of the crowd and pressed against the barricade. “I could blink inside the building,” he murmured.
“Don’t be stupid,” Bonnie whispered in his ear. “If Sam and I go and get into trouble, you can always blink in to help us. Unfortunately, that scenario doesn’t work the other way around. You’ve got to be our backup, Jesse.”
Slap. Sam’s hand smacked Bonnie’s arm.
“Ow!” Bonnie turned toward her sister, who was sniffing the air like a dog. “What’s your problem?”
“Do you smell that?”
All three turned their heads toward the front doors to the Harrington skyscraper. A security guard held the door open for an important-looking man exiting the building. The man paused outside and said, “Thank you, Fredrick,” in an entitled and condescending tone that didn’t match the words spoken. Bonnie watched his straight white teeth flash with every word. The man smoothed the silky fabric of his double-breasted navy suit arrogantly, and the professional cut of his black hair didn’t move, even when the wind came off the lake and blew Bonnie’s red locks back. That breeze carried with it what her sister had smelled, the scent of Watcher.
Bonnie locked onto the man, scanning him from head to toe and elbowing Sam to do the same. Six-foot-four, broad shoulders, narrow hips, chiseled jaw. She gagged on the stench of the black-skinned snake underneath and unconsciously toyed with the red stone necklace through the collar of her coat. She noticed Ghost adjust the backpack of weapons on his shoulder and cover his nose with his hand.
The Watcher pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, unfolding them with a quick snap of his wrist. A gold lion’s head ring glinted from his right index finger. As he raised the glasses to his face, Bonnie was afforded a straight-on view. His dark-blue eyes shone almost purple, an impossible color for humans unless they were sporting contacts.
The wind shifted, her long red hair floating forward over her shoulder. Those purple eyes locked onto hers. The smile faded from the man’s face, and he slid the sunglasses on. One step, then another. He was coming for her.
“He saw me,” Bonnie whispered, but she needn’t have said anything. Sam was already pulling her back into the crowd, and Ghost was blinking in and out of sight, searching for a good place to hide and regroup.
“This way,” Sam said, eyeing her phone. “Jesse says there’s an alley.”
Holding hands, Bonnie allowed Sam to pull her through the crowd, snaking in and out of the protesters. Again and again, Bonnie looked over her shoulder, searching for the Watcher, but the mass of people had closed in behind them. The man was gone.
The crowd began to thin as they reached Ghost two blocks from Harrington. Two dumpsters obscured the entrance to the narrow, brick-lined alley where he waited.
“Squeeze through,” Ghost said from the other side.
Bonnie looked at Sam, who nodded and checked to make sure no one was watching. Bonnie slipped through first, her mass shifting down her leg until an abnormally large foot landed on the other side. She slimmed her body to slide through the gap, sending her extra inches to her foot, then her leg, her hip, and so on. When she was completely on the other side, she pulled Sam through, incorporating her extra mass so that she could fit.
“That was definitely a Watcher,” Sam said when she’d resumed her natural form and shape.
“Definitely. And he saw us. Do you think we lost him?” Bonnie looked through the gap in the dumpsters for any sign of the beast.
“I think so,” Ghost replied. “I hate to be the one to state the obvious, but one of you needs to become that guy. That’s our way in.”
Bonnie widened her eyes at Samantha. It made sense, but the thought was terrifying. They’d have to separate. Only one of them could go because the man’s form could not contain both of their mass. But who would go and who would stay? Bonnie watched her sister swallow, her twin’s eyes shifting to Ghost, who looked like he might cry.
No words had to be said. And, while she knew that Sam would argue with the notion, her sister needed to stay with Ghost. The two were an item, and separating them could cause a distraction they didn’t need.
“I’ll go,” Bonnie said.
“No,” Sam protested. “We should draw straws.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. How predictable. “Sam…” Her sister’s eyes darted away. Enough said. “I’ll go.”
“Hmm, so that’s settled, then,” Ghost muttered, shaking his head.
Grasping her sister’s hand, Bonnie melded with her twin, concentrating on the Watcher’s illusion and the
sound of his voice. Her body changed, absorbing the parts of her sister she needed, growing taller and more muscular. Her long red hair retracted into her head and her face morphed. When she’d replicated the Watcher she’d seen, Bonnie pulled away, detaching from her sister.
“Is it right?” she asked the now smaller version of Sam. Her sister looked about twelve.
“Perfect. You even remembered the ring,” Sam said.
Bonnie looked down at the lion’s head ring and nodded. “How’s the voice?” she asked.
“Go lower,” Sam said.
Bonnie tried again. “Thank you, Frederick.” She tried to imitate what she’d heard earlier.
“Perfect,” Ghost said.
“Let’s do this.”
A column of black smoke descended between them, forming into the Watcher with an echoing growl. He landed closest to Sam and blew into her, knocking her to the pavement.
“Jesse! Help!” Bonnie yelled to Ghost, who had the weapons from Eden in his backpack. She didn’t wait for him to save her sister. She barreled into the Watcher, fists flying. The creature retaliated, talons swiping toward Bonnie’s face. But, before contact, the creature hesitated, confused by her mirror image appearance and his own vanity. It was all the opportunity Ghost needed. From the backpack, he whipped a chain around the Watcher’s neck. Blessed with Eden’s holy water, it hissed as it touched his skin. The man howled and fell to his knees. In a few brisk moves, Ghost lassoed his wrists.
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 blonde 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 tha
t 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 blonde 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.
