by Ching, G. P.
Perhaps desperate times called for desperate measures. Lucifer needed a monster. Cord’s replacement must both wreak destruction on the humans and control the legions of Watchers on Earth. If he could enlist the brethren for those duties, he’d be more powerful than ever.
Auriel held up a disembodied finger between her own. “I miss Cord,” she murmured, then popped the digit between her teeth.
“There is only one way to gain the allegiance of the brethren,” Lucifer continued. “We must get Damien to agree to help us. He has always been their leader.”
“Yes, My Lord, although I found Asher quite entertaining for a number of years.” Asher was the pretty one. Always had a thing for the ladies, even the human ones. She supposed with the elimination of the compact between God and the Devil, he was exercising that particular vice again. Since Noah, human sexuality had been off-limits. Not anymore.
“Asher is too easily distracted. I will call Damien to me, and we shall enlist him in our cause. He will bring the others.”
Auriel nodded. She finished her meal and wiped what remained of Mr. Kowalski off her face with a tissue from her pocket. “I am ready, My Lord.”
Eagerly, Lucifer closed his eyes, and Auriel understood he was sending his call through shadow, a talent he alone possessed. The Devil owned the stuff Watchers were made of. Once he connected with the thumbprint of Damien’s black heart, he would pull his essence into his presence. The call could not be refused.
Auriel wasn’t at all surprised when three funnels of darkness channeled into the conference room. The brothers always stuck together. She surveyed the brood as one by one they fully formed. Their massive shoulders seemed to fill the open space around the table, despite this being the largest conference room in the building. She’d forgotten how formidable the Wicked Brethren could be.
Damien’s gray-green eyes narrowed with suspicion. Dressed in a business suit the color of money and Italian loafers, he looked like the typical executive. Auriel’s eyebrow arched when she noticed his dark hair was peppered with gray. His appearance, like all of the Watchers, was an illusion. He didn’t have to have gray hair or slight wrinkles around his eyes if he didn’t want them. But why would he want them? Upon further thought, she remembered Damien’s particular vice was greed. Perhaps his appearance facilitated his priorities, this illusion serving him well in the business world. Rumor had it he was exceedingly rich and even owned a castle in Romania.
Next to him, the lustful Asher turned his bright smile her way, his movie-star good looks giving Auriel a warm, melty feeling. His sandy blond coif, wild on top and short on the sides, made his aqua eyes dazzle. She knew it was an illusion, but somehow Asher wore it better than the rest.
Near the back of the room, the silk-shirt-wearing Levi checked his jeweled rings to ensure he hadn’t lost any in his travels. He was wearing a decidedly Greek illusion these days, with longer dark waves and olive skin. Levi’s vice was envy and thus he was the least predictable. The only certainty was his desire to obtain whatever anyone else had, whatever that might be.
“You called,” Damien said, straightening his suit and adjusting the shiny watch on his wrist.
“Yes, I did. I am in need of your services.”
“The brethren are very busy, My Lord. We cannot offer you our assistance at this time.”
“I’m not asking, Damien. I’m enlisting you,” Lucifer said in a deadly quiet voice.
Damien stepped back. “Now is not a good time. I respectfully decline.”
“I respectfully do not accept your decision,” Lucifer growled.
“Why us? Why now?”
“The apocalypse needs you. If I am to win this challenge—and if I win, you win, Damien—I require your assistance.”
Levi groaned, throwing his head back and spinning in the swivel chair where he’d taken up residence. He’d hooked one tall boot over the arm of his seat and looked decidedly pirate-like. “Sounds like a lot of work. Why should you get to call the shots after all these years, Lucifer? The Wicked Brethren have done splendidly on our own for centuries. Find someone else to help you.” He waved a hand in the air.
With a growl, Lucifer extended one hand and clenched it into a fist. Levi stopped spinning. The demon writhed in pain, face reddening as his hands gripped his neck.
“You have done fine on your own, Levi, because I have allowed it,” Lucifer said. “Do not forget that I own the very stuff you are made of, down to your black heart.” He flicked his hand open and the demon flew out of the chair and smashed against the back wall, his overdeveloped muscles leaving a dent before he slumped to the floor.
Damien’s eyes shifted from his brothers to Lucifer. “What is in it for us?”
It always came down to greed with Damien. The sin was both his greatest strength and weakness. This was good. Lucifer had taught Auriel that a servant with no desires couldn’t be properly motivated. One thing about the Wicked Brethren, their desires were as strong as their physiques.
“If you help me, and I win the challenge, you will become Earth’s princes. Each of you will be given your own domain to rule as you will, and all of the riches of that domain will be yours.”
Sprawled on the floor where he’d fallen, Levi started to snore. Asher, who had strutted across the room to Auriel’s side, turned toward the brother and laughed. “Seems Levi could do without ruling anything.”
“Levi,” Damien said. The brother stopped snoring and got to his feet, brushing himself off.
“This conversation bores me,” Levi said.
Auriel could sense Damien fighting with himself as his eyes darted between Levi and Asher. Was freedom such a strong motivator?
“Nothing compares to serving Lucifer, Damien. It is its own reward,” she said.
Lucifer grinned at her comment. “Come, my pet,” he said to her. He wrapped one arm around Damien’s shoulders, and then took Auriel’s hand. At the moment her fingers touched his, smoke swallowed the three of them, wicking them from Harrington to a rooftop in the sky. Auriel gasped at the grandeur of the panoramic view.
“Where are we?” Damien asked.
“The roof of the Empire State Building.”
“Why?” Damien stared across New York City, pursing his lips as if this side trip was highly inconvenient.
“Only to show you all that could be yours.” Lucifer motioned toward the city with his open hand.
Auriel stiffened. She’d been promised the world. Was not New York part of the world?
“The city of New York?” Damien clarified.
“And every other major city. You will be my second. The world and all the riches in it will be yours. When I win, you can bathe in the jewels of the humans you eat for lunch.”
His second? Auriel was his second. She clenched her fists at her sides.
Damien’s battleship-green eyes reflected the city. He licked his lips. “The world economy, all the money in all the world, will be mine to rule autonomously,” Damien said, not a question but a demand.
“Of course. But all or nothing. You must convince your brothers to join me as well or no deal.”
Damien clasped his hands behind his back, his face growing stony with thought. Auriel found herself wishing he’d say no, suddenly threatened by the Wicked Brethren’s presence. Her wishing was futile.
“Consider it done,” Damien said.
Lucifer’s self-satisfied grin said it all. He reached out a hand and sealed the deal with a firm handshake.
A strange foreboding made Auriel’s insides itch as she watched the arrangement, but there was no going back. Cord had been replaced.
Chapter 2
Patrol
Midnight. The witching hour. Jacob wove through a cluster of trees by the full moon’s light, then raced across an open stretch of frozen grass. He leapt over the occasional human remnant, a foot, a thumb, a chunk of unidentified organ, in pursuit of a Watcher on a killing spree. His patrol team had tracked the beast for twelve blocks, but this was the
first they’d made visual contact, and Jacob was not about to waste it.
His mother, Lillian, ran beside him, about one hundred yards to his right, dagger glinting in her hand. She was almost fifty years old, but her Soulkeeper powers made her lithe and spry, and able to wield any weapon upon first contact. She had no problem keeping up with his inhuman pace.
The third member of their patrol team, Cheveyo, circled west, hoping to head the creature off. The Hopi Soulkeeper was as fast as he was deadly, and he knew exactly what he was doing. There was a risk of getting too close. If the beast sensed Jacob, it could pass into shadow and escape, an end that would mean more work for the three of them to meet their nightly quota. So far, though, that hadn’t happened. This Watcher staggered at a half-hearted run, seemingly drunk from his overindulgence on human flesh.
Still, an experienced Soulkeeper never underestimated a Watcher. A flash of leathery wing dodged behind a tree ahead. Jacob sped up until his quad muscles burned, breath coming in huffs, the water in his flask humming to be used.
A bloody arm flew at his head.
“Eww.” Jacob ducked the disembodied limb. White flesh slapped the grass behind him. He didn’t miss a step. Focused, he called the water, an arc driving from his flask into his palm, the spray forming a broadsword of ice perfectly balanced in his hand. He bounded off a park bench and ricocheted into the air, over the Watcher’s head. The Watcher attempted to dodge left. Jacob’s sword came around. The Watcher ducked, and the icy blade nicked its wing.
Poof. The Watcher twisted into shadow and disappeared.
“Damn,” Jacob cursed. A blob of oily blood plopped to the grass near his toes.
“It hasn’t gone far,” his mom said. She’d closed in for the fight. “I can feel it.”
“Me too,” Jacob agreed, turning in a circle. “Did you see how sluggish it was? It could barely move.”
“No self-control,” Lillian murmured. “Gorged with blood.”
Back to back, mother and son circled, blades at the ready. Snap. Jacob cranked his eyes north in time to see talons falling from the tree branches. He dove out of the way, swiping at the Watcher as he rolled. Contact. Only the wound wasn’t enough to kill. The Watcher landed on Lillian, knocking her to the grass. His mother dropped to the snow at an awkward angle, her dagger trapped beneath her body.
“Mom!” Jacob reacted, swinging his sword at the creature’s neck.
Boom. Another Watcher barreled into him. Where did it come from? Jacob took an elbow to the eye before he could land a sidekick in the center of the thing’s chest. The Watcher transformed into a black mist on contact.
“No way,” Jacob growled. Slicing the foggy air where the scaly flesh had been moments before, his enchanted weapon snagged. He yanked. Ha. The Watcher formed on the ground, leg spewing black blood. “Not fast enough with the quick change,” Jacob said. Boot planted on the beast’s neck, Jacob plowed his blade into the empty heart of the demon. The Watcher exploded, chunks of scaly flesh flying across the park on impact.
“You just never know how these things will die,” he said, grinning. He wiped the oil slick from his eyes with the sleeve of his coat and turned back to help his mom. He didn’t have to follow through. The Watcher had already released her and was backing away, skin bubbling and eyes bulging.
“About time, Cheveyo,” his mother said, accepting Jacob’s hand and trying to stand in the slippery muck of black blood and snow. She’d barely found her footing when Cheveyo’s Watcher exploded, ensuring every exposed surface in a ten foot radius was completely coated in black excrement.
Cheveyo shook his shoulders like a dog, sending black droplets in every direction. “I will never get used to that,” he said.
“Ugh. Do you mind?” Lillian spat. She tried to use the scarf around her neck to wipe her face, but the Watcher blood was everywhere.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jacob said. “Give it five hundred or so more times.” Cheveyo’s gift was kick ass. The guy could possess Watchers, but since the stuff Soulkeepers were made of could not coexist with the stuff Watchers were made of, his presence destroyed them from the inside out. His soul automatically returned to his body when he was finished.
“Are you hit?” Cheveyo asked Lillian, pointing to a slice across her chest. White fluff poked out of the rip in her jacket.
“No,” Lillian said. “Just my coat. It didn’t break the skin.”
“Cool. So that’s quota, right?” Cheveyo asked.
Jacob nodded. “Yep. Counting the one in the zoo, we killed our three for the night.” Weeks ago, Malini had set a quota for Watcher deaths, a strategy to shift the Soulkeepers’ role in the war from defense to offense. Sometimes they killed more but rarely less. Jacob felt like they’d made a real dent in Lucifer’s arsenal, and Malini said the scales now tilted slightly in God’s favor.
“Sweet, because it ain’t getting any warmer out here, and I’m starving.” Cheveyo took off in the direction of Sanctuary. The place they called Sanctuary was the basement of what used to be a Catholic church and their new mission control since the portal to Eden was destroyed six weeks ago.
“Hold up, Jacob. I need to talk to you,” Lillian said, slowing her steps to put room between herself and Cheveyo.
“About what?” Jacob asked, matching her steps. He would have loved it if the three of them could have poofed back via the enchanted staffs, but they rarely used them to travel anymore, especially not for quota. For one, they were unwieldy once the team got where they were going. And, more importantly, Malini was afraid the sorcery that powered them might draw Lucifer’s attention.
“About the extra mouth we have to feed.” Lillian looked at Jacob pointedly.
“You can’t blame Hope—”
“I’m not talking about Hope, Jacob. Of course, I don’t blame the baby.” Lillian quieted. The only sound was her feet crunching on the frozen ground.
“You’re talking about Cord.”
“Yes.”
Jacob took a deep breath and blew it out. “Malini thinks he could be useful to us. She’s been talking about making him part of the team.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Grace and I agree we can’t trust him. Sure he looks like an angel, but he used to be a Watcher.”
“He says that life is behind him. He bleeds silver. He’s an angel now.”
“But we can’t trust him. She needs to keep him locked up until we know for sure what we are dealing with.” Lillian pulled the sections of her coat together and crossed her arms against the chill air. Spring might be on the horizon during the day, but at night, Chicago was in full winter.
“Malini told me…” Jacob hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to share what his girlfriend learned in the In Between. Seeing the future was an untrustworthy discipline, and the Immortals practically spoke in code.
“What, Jacob?” Lillian pressured.
“She said Cord might be important to our cause in the future. Mara said so.”
His mom wiped a bit of black blood off her cheek and scratched her nose. The blood caused irritation if left on the skin too long. They needed to get back to Sanctuary and clean up before they were all itching from head to toe. “It’s not that I’m unhappy with Cord’s change. I think his transformation made a difference in morale,” she said.
Jacob nodded. “No doubt. The team didn’t think we had a chance until his conversion. Now everyone is wondering if it’s real, and if it could happen again.”
With a deep sigh, Lillian nodded her agreement. “I still don’t trust him. Having him in the pantry is better than having him on the streets, but I question whether he’s somehow getting information back to Lucifer.”
“Mom, Cord was Lucifer’s right-hand man. If he were still working for the Devil, something would have happened by now. It’s been weeks. Lucifer has had more than enough time to counter an attack or call our souls to him. He would have sent a legion of Watchers to kill us in our sleep. Or worse, he’d come himself and pick us off
one by one. Angel or not, Cord is out of the mix. No way is he feeding information back to Lucifer.”
“We hope.”
“Oh come on, you have to admit that things changed once we had Cord. The Watchers seem disorganized. I saw a survey on the news today, less than fifty percent of Harrington Security users are satisfied with the product. I’ve got to think Cord’s absence has something to do with that. Malini says his conversion was part of the third gift.”
“Maybe.”
Jacob stroked the stubble on his chin. “Why do you think Lucifer hasn’t called Malini’s soul to him? We know he can. He did it when he held Dane in Hell. What’s stopping him?”
“I wish I knew.” Lillian shook her head. “It has to have something to do with the third gift, but none of us really know for sure, do we?”
“Malini said she can’t fully explain the third gift or Cord’s conversion, but she knows it is helping us. The immortals say it has something to do with baby Hope. She has the Soulkeeper gene.”
Lillian frowned. “I believe Hope is important. How could the daughter of Abigail and Gideon not be? But this lull in Watcher activity isn’t going to last forever. We are in the eye of the hurricane. The fourth curse has to be coming soon. We can’t take any chances.”
“Yeah.” Jacob crossed the street, squinting at Cheveyo far ahead in the darkness. He silently prayed the newest Soulkeeper wouldn’t encounter more Watchers on his own. He’d handle a loner like a rock star, but if there were others, the pack might snack on his body while he possessed the first one. Jacob picked up his pace to close the space between them.
“About Cord,” Lillian pressed again.
Jacob groaned and tipped his head back.
“I’m serious. People are starting to talk behind her back. Malini won’t listen to me. You have to convince her to keep him right where he is. Letting him out could be a disaster.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.”
“But I believe in her, Mom. Malini is rarely wrong. If she says Cord is going to play a role in this thing, and that we might need him, I’m going to back her up.”
