by Susan Illene
“The angels will listen to you now that you’re on their good list,” Zoe said, defensive. “It makes more sense that it has to be you, and I’ve heard that Remiel agrees.”
Bartol ground his jaw. “I shouldn’t be here at all, considering you nearly killed my mate.”
“That was not my intention.” She sniffed. “But even if it was, it’s not as if you two are all that close to each other. She’s a weak little thing, anyway.”
Bartol stood, knocking his chair back. “She’s mine and a better woman than you’ll ever be. Talk about my mate again like that—or even think about hurting her—and I’ll make you pay in ways even Kerbasi can’t conjure.”
The two nephilim in the room looked at him in shock, an added mixture of worry in Caius’ eyes. Bartol wasn’t one for outbursts or a show of hot anger, but he didn’t care at that moment. For Cori, he’d break his rigid discipline. The deep need inside him to protect her was surprising even to him, but for all their differences, she was his. He knew that now more than ever. It had only taken one scheming female nephilim to show him how much he still cared for his mate. He would do anything for her, kill, maim, destroy—anything to keep her safe.
Zoe smiled. “Finally—you’re showing a little emotion. I’d begun to think the guardian tortured it all out of you.”
Bartol’s hands shook. He’d just given her a thrill by losing his temper. Bartol took several deep, calming breaths, drawing upon the place deep inside himself where no emotions or pain could reach. Zoe was not worth it. If he did not get himself under control, terrible things would happen. People could die, mass destruction could occur, and blood would run. He’d sworn he’d never let that side of himself come out again. Fighting battles had been fine until that one fateful day, but after that he’d had to learn control no matter what.
“Bartol?” Caius was rigid with alarm. He knew the deep dark secret that Bartol harbored and kept from everyone. It had been more than a thousand years, but there were some things no one could forget.
He relaxed one muscle at a time, starting from his face on down until every part of him including his toes were loose and no longer burning with rage. “I’m fine.” Picking up his chair, he sat back down. “Tell me. How did those humans die as you watched?”
Zoe glanced between him and Caius, sensing there was something more going on but unable to guess what. After a moment, she relented and answered, “They ate each other alive.”
Bartol’s stomach turned. He should have guessed if Zoe thought it was terrible, it must have been. He could not imagine such a thing.
“And the demon just left you alone?” Caius asked.
“Yes—he didn’t seem concerned about me other than enjoying having a witness to his work.” She brushed a lock of her strawberry blond hair from her face. “Bucharest was the last time I saw him, but I’m certain he’s moved on since then.”
Bartol narrowed his eyes. “Where?”
“I’m not certain of his location at the moment, but he seems to be bouncing around Europe, slowly moving west.”
Caius grunted. “Have there been any more dreams or predictions from your nerou?”
“Some, but none where we could pinpoint the location until after the fact. My sources are trying to focus on him, but they get other visions that aren’t related. It can be rather confusing for them, or when they do see the demon, the picture is too unclear to be of use. What we do know is he will be causing mass casualties again two more times over the next month,” she said, expression turning grave.
“Do you know the locations of those attacks?” Bartol asked.
She gave him a slow nod. “The first will be in Frankfurt, Germany in a little over two weeks—many hundreds will die. Approximately ten days after, give or take a day or two, he’ll conduct an even larger strike on London. The casualty rate will be in the thousands should he succeed. You have to find him and stop him before he gets to those locations or else he may become too powerful for anyone to handle—even the archangels.”
“We’ll need you to keep us updated on anything new you find out,” Caius said.
“I wouldn’t have summoned you here if I didn’t want the demon stopped.” Zoe lifted her chin. “If there are any more visions or dreams that could help, I’ll call. I don’t want the world taken over by an evil creature any more than you do.”
That remained to be seen. The fact she’d taken advantage of the situation by using her daughter as leverage to reveal the information she had on the demon said a lot. It never ceased to amaze Bartol how low she would stoop to get what she wanted.
“I also want a detailed list of all the events and locations you know of involving the demon—even the unconfirmed ones,” he ordered, standing up. “Get it to us by this afternoon so we can begin formulating a plan of action before we leave tomorrow.”
Zoe sat back in her seat and gave him a dismissive gesture. “Of course, whatever you need.”
Chapter 11
Cori
Cori spun around the kitchen and pointed at Micah.
“How much longer on the mashed potatoes?” she asked with an urgency that could have made some people think a bomb was about to go off.
Lucas’ twin brother was a halfway decent cook himself and had offered to help when he saw how frazzled she was this afternoon while trying to get Thanksgiving dinner ready. There were a thousand things to do and little time left to do them.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, pulling the large boiling pot off the stove.
“Don’t forget to add butter and milk.”
He gave her a wry look. “I promise I’m fully capable of handling potatoes.”
“He really is.” Emily finished filling a basket with rolls. “Not as good as you, but he’s a solid second place to anyone else I know.”
Micah narrowed his eyes at her. “See if I take you to any more rock concerts.”
Emily’s expression turned pained. “Please don’t make me choose between you.”
“Just get the rolls on the table,” Cori ordered.
Already, almost thirty guests had arrived. She was more than grateful she’d set a later time for dinner so that it wouldn’t start until six in the evening—only fifteen minutes away. It had given her the extra time she needed to get everything ready. They’d had to cook two turkeys stuffed with dressing, two hams, dozens of rolls, five different vegetables including sweet potatoes, the rest of the desserts, and appetizers. The last part was so that guests like Kerbasi stayed away from the main meal while waiting.
“On it!” Emily raced out of the kitchen with her breadbaskets.
Cori went back to work slicing the ham.
A couple of minutes later, Micah finished with the mashed potatoes and divided them into several serving bowls. With so many guests, they’d had to put an extra long table in the living room to accommodate the overflow. Even then, they’d have Emily and the teenagers eating separately in the den.
“Do you need me to carve the turkeys?” Micah asked.
“Yes, please.”
He pulled the electric carving knife out and set to work. With nephilim speed, he moved much faster than her. If she chose immortality, would she ever become like that? She couldn’t even imagine it.
Cori grabbed the platter with the ham she’d just sliced. Next, she balanced the second one in a way that proved she’d never worked as a waitress, but she had a death grip on them, so they probably wouldn’t fall. “I’m taking these out. You can bring the turkeys when you’re ready.”
“No problem,” Micah said, casting an amused glance over his shoulder. “Don’t drop those.”
“I won’t.” She hoped.
He laughed and went back to work, totally comfortable in his jeans and death metal t-shirt in faded black. It was always strange seeing a more “hip” version of Lucas. Micah had left his long, blond hair loose about his shoulders in casual disregard, and he had his guitar tuned up, ready to play after dinner. Some of his band friends had shown u
p as well. It wasn’t just Cori’s food the guests were excited about but also the later performance.
She reached the dining room table and did an odd pose that involved kicking one leg up in the air to get the first ham set down carefully. After righting herself, she blew out a breath of relief before heading to the living room to place the second. Some of the guests were milling around in there and watched as she found a spot for the next platter.
Kerbasi lifted his nose into the air, sniffing. With the sharp, black suit he wore—far too overdressed compared to everyone else—and his long black hair slicked back, he almost looked suave and sophisticated. “That smells good. Perhaps you should allow me to taste test it before the others to be certain it is as delicious as it appears to be.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Cori glared at him. “If you so much as touch anything on this table before it’s time to eat, I’ll chop your fingers off.”
He clenched his fists. “You wouldn’t.”
It wasn’t easy to hurt someone like him, but she’d found out fingers were a weak point on immortals. They could potentially be removed, though for him they’d grow back. Cori had no idea if she could really do such a thing, but if ever there was an immortal worth testing her mettle against, it would be Kerbasi.
“Try me,” she warned.
The guardian took a step back from the table. “You are cruel.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Cori spun on her heels and headed back to the kitchen. She found Emily in there grabbing a couple of the vegetable dishes. The teenager balanced them so well that she actually could have passed for a waitress. She smiled at Cori before heading back out to load the tables, whistling an unfamiliar tune. It was amazing how much she’d perked up for this holiday after all she’d been through during the year. Maybe she was truly putting the past behind her.
Cori wished she could do the same, but things were a little more complicated for her.
Micah took hold of both the turkey platters, balancing them easily. “I’ve got these. Do you need me to do anything else?”
A few veggie dishes were the only things left. They’d set the tables a while ago with everything else they’d need other than the main entrées.
“That’s it.”
He headed out, and she took hold of the last items. As soon as she delivered them, she called for Melena and Lucas, who’d been busy entertaining the guests since they’d started arriving an hour before.
“We’re ready.”
“Great,” Melena said, and hugged Cori. “Thanks for everything today.”
Lucas gave her a grateful look. “You can relax for now. We’ll take it from here.”
Cori nodded and moved to take her seat at the main table. Lucas called for the guests to sit as well, having already informed them of their assigned places. He and Melena waited in the foyer where they could easily be seen from the dining room on one side and living room on the other. Cori was impressed with how well they were playing hosts now that they were married and settled down. It was nice to see after all they’d been through.
“We want to thank everyone for coming,” he began.
“Even those of us who invited ourselves?” a werewolf asked, chuckling.
“Yes—even those who we may not like very much.” Lucas gave a pointed look at Kerbasi. “Melena and I have come a long way in the last few years, and while both of us once preferred to live solitary lives, we’ve come to appreciate how much stronger we are by having loyal friends and family to support us. We’ve survived impossible odds not by fighting them alone, but together. On this Thanksgiving Day, we are grateful most for that.”
Cori’s throat swelled. She hadn’t been there for all the trials Melena and Lucas had faced, but she’d seen quite a few. Would she and Bartol manage together that well with their own obstacles? Everything was still so uncertain between them that it was impossible to know, and she wasn’t even sure how she wanted it to turn out yet. The only thing she knew was that watching Lucas pull Melena into his side made her wish to be loved like that. They had the kind of relationship most people only dreamed about, and many didn’t believe could exist.
If only Bartol could have been here today.
He wouldn’t even be calling until tomorrow. Cori should have asked him to make an extra call for the holiday, but she hadn’t been sure if he even celebrated Thanksgiving. For that matter, she didn’t know how much time he’d spent in America before going to Purgatory. Maybe none of this even meant anything to him. It was hard to fathom how an immortal, eighteen-hundred-year-old man might feel about any holidays. He’d probably seen so many come and go in his lifetime, some traditions long gone now, that maybe it was easier not to get attached to them. Sometimes, Cori felt totally out of her depth with how to handle living in the supernatural world. Melena practically made it look effortless. Whether Lucas cared about Thanksgiving or not, at least he pretended he did for the woman he loved.
“Can we eat yet?” Kerbasi asked from somewhere in the living room.
Melena looked in his direction. “Only if you tell us what you’re grateful for today.”
The sensor never missed an opportunity to teach the guardian a lesson even though it wasn’t her responsibility anymore. Oddly, Kerbasi usually did what she wanted. Maybe he’d gotten into the habit of it, or maybe that was one of her conditions for allowing him to continue staying in the shack out back. It wasn’t much, but the guardian seemed to prefer it to finding a larger place where he’d be all alone.
“I’m thankful that Cori is a better cook than you,” Kerbasi replied with a distinct smugness in his voice.
Melena laughed. “So am I.”
“Anyone else?” Lucas asked, glancing between each room.
A chorus of voices sounded.
“I’m glad it’s not snowing today!”
“Cheers to good food and wine,” another added.
“Let’s be grateful there’s finally been peace in Fairbanks after a rough year!”
Eventually, the voices died down. Melena waited for complete silence before announcing, “Let’s eat!”
Everyone pulled in their seats and dug into the meal. Lucas, as usual, headed off to the kitchen where a separate plate waited for him in there. His wife talked and kept the guests in the dining room entertained. Over the din of conversation around Cori, she caught snippets of the others chatting in the living room, including the alpha werewolf, Derrick. He’d brought half a dozen pack members along, so he chose to eat with them rather than take a seat at the main table.
There was one guest who didn’t speak at all and ate quietly—Ariel. She’d come in at the last moment from her RV next to the house. The former archangel didn’t show her face often, but she’d promised Cori she wouldn’t miss this meal. She took each bite of her food slowly, as if unsure whether to enjoy it or not. During her long months in Hell, she hadn’t been given anything to consume. Angels didn’t have to eat, but Ariel had been turned into something else after her wings were stripped and she was cast into Satan’s domain. Her body required sustenance now if she wanted to be at full strength, similar to a nephilim’s dietary requirements. She’d once admitted the hunger she felt while there was almost worse than the torture, though she still found it rather unpleasant to have bodily functions like a human.
“Is everything okay?” Cori asked her.
Ariel slowly swallowed. “The food is good.”
“We should, uh, hang out again sometime,” Cori said. She’d come over to the trailer a couple of times to play cards with the former archangel and found it to be quite pleasant. One on one, Ariel handled being social a lot better.
She smiled. “I would like that.”
The meal continued, and food steadily disappeared from the serving dishes. More than once, a stray hand went under the table with a piece of meat for a hungry shifter cat waiting underneath. To not do so would be to risk having your shoes chewed on or a pant leg ripped by sharp teeth. Sable had purposely
changed herself into a tiger so that she could maximize space in her stomach and eat more. Most everyone was familiar with her habits and catered to them.
Cori began to worry she might not have cooked enough food when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Melena was already on her feet, having sensed the new arrival well in advance.
“It’s just Kariann,” the sensor explained.
Cori relaxed. Since she’d set dinner time for after dark, she’d invited a few vampires she knew to come over, but none of them had taken her up on the offer. Maybe they were upset over her tattoo affecting one of their brethren, or maybe it was only because they couldn’t eat. They hadn’t given a specific reason. She supposed she could understand why they might avoid the torture of being reminded they’d never taste food again if that were the problem.
But then why was Kariann here now?
The blond Amazonian woman stepped into the foyer, holding a medium sized man in one hand. She tossed him to the floor with a snarl and kicked him in the stomach. He cried out, revealing a set of sharp fangs. Dried blood covered the lower half of his face and ran down his neck onto his shirt and gray jacket. Cori noted his fuzzy red aura, denoting him as a young vampire. Either his wounds had already healed, or the blood came from somewhere else.
He wrapped his arms around his head, covering his short, curly black hair as Kariann pushed her boot into his chest. Faint mewling sounds came from his mouth. She must have beaten him into submission before bringing him over, which wouldn’t have been difficult to do since she was a six-hundred-year-old vampire. Kariann could kick some serious ass, and she had little mercy for people who pissed her off.
Derrick rushed into the foyer, face red. “What in the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
“Caught this one outside the Dark Star Tavern, gorging himself on a human,” she said, digging her heel deeper into the vampire’s chest.
The Dark Star Tavern was the only supernatural drinking establishment in the area. It sat on the outskirts of Fairbanks, totally out of place with its medieval style building. The place even had a thatched roof. Cori had passed by it many times driving from her home to her shop, but she’d never been inside. It wasn’t safe for humans and boasted a warning sign at the entrance. She could have visited since her change, but she still didn’t feel like part of the supernatural crowd.
