Two goons stood on either side of the door, arms folded across their barrel chests. If she hadn’t been able to tell on sight, Izzy knew the minute Ogwald opened the door that both of the button men were human. The pungent stench of stale alcohol, heavy aftershave, and sweat permeated the air as she and the others exited the car.
Ashur approached them, looking down at the taller of the two from his lofty height. Without a word, the smaller man opened the door and motioned for them to enter. As he led them through to a secluded section in the back, Izzy bit her tongue to keep from snickering. Inside, the tables were lit by low hanging lights and covered in red cloths. The smell of delicious food wafted in the air and an Italian opera played on the hidden speakers, creating the perfect ambience for some wretched old mobster movie.
Her desire to laugh vanished the minute she saw what was waiting for them. Capone, Luciano, and Johnny Boy sat side by side at a long table, the rest of their pack stood along the wall at the back of the room. Looking at the odd ball trio, Izzy wondered who in the Hell had been the one to give the men their demons.
It had to be some joke, some terrible joke, she thought as she looked them over. The demonic presence had turned back the clock, erasing the lines of age from their faces, but hadn’t taken away their scars. Somehow the battle wounds that each carried from years of hard living while human, made their young faces seem all the more terrifying.
“Ashur, welcome. Sit, sit down. We have much to discuss here.” Johnny Boy indicated the three chairs that sat across the table.
Ashur ignored Tommy, choosing to speak directly to the man in charge, “You had better have a damn good explanation for this, Capone. I could end your paltry existence where you sit.”
“Ash. Ash. Violence only begets violence. If any blood is shed, it will be the end to your reign. Your harvest will never come, and then it will be me who goes down in demon history. You see, I haven’t brought your boy here to kill him, I’ve brought him here to place Damocles in his hand.”
Izzy’s mouth dropped open. To awaken the angel would mean death to them all. Only the very lucky would escape his sword, just to be hunted down until they were driven back to Hell or slain as well.
“That sword has been missing for eons. No one knows where it is,” Galia scoffed.
“Then let me show you exactly where it is.” Luciano, who had been glaring at Iyzebel with his mostly healed eye, raised his hand in signal to the mafia soldiers at the back of the room. Two men lifted a covered box and carried it over to the table, placing it before the made men.
Tugging the cloth away, Capone leaned back and smiled.
Before them, a beautiful oak cask with a glass top gleamed, hand carved angels dancing across its sides. Inside, it held the most powerful demon slaying sword ever crafted. The hilt, carved from a branch from the sacred Tree of Life, twisted in magnificent spirals to where it split off into the guard. At the top, Rafael’s symbol had been engraved and gold leafed into a ball of serpahnite. However, it was the blade that drew the eye. Cold blue steel, sharpened to the point of simply brushing a finger along the edge would wound, shined on the bed of white satin. Heavenly light collected and gleamed upon its surface, a warning to all who were born or made of Hell.
Despite its divine craftsmanship, all Izzy could see was death staring at her from inside the box. Stepping back, she pressed herself against the table behind her, unable to look at the blade that would end her life. The surety of that fact encased her entire being, promising her that the blessed steel would be her demise. Struggling to take over, her demon revolted. The beast longed to take up the sword and burn it in the fires of Hell until the embers of such power could turn it as black as Lucifer’s soul.
“Now, let’s talk.” Johnny Boy signaled for the box to be lifted once more.
Ash, Galia, and Sydonay took the chairs at the table, venomous expressions on their faces, while Izzy slid in behind Ogwald, Focalor, and Flurety. Using the demons as a wall to conceal her, she studied her surroundings. If the ‘sit-down’ turned ugly, she’d have to move fast, and she had no idea where they were holding Raf.
“Get on with it, Capone. This is a disrespect to the Fallen,” Ashur growled, his voice quivering on the verge of the change.
“Do you think I am a fool, Ashur? Do you think that I have not thought of the retribution that you could reap? If I learned anything in Chicago, it was to trust no one. This,” he raised both hands to indicate the situation, “is a matter of preservation of my kind.”
“You’re a demon, Capone. These greasy assholes are nothing compared to what you were given. Yet, you surround yourself with humans as if you were still playing mobster, and you challenge those who could destroy you with a flick of a nail.”
Capone’s temper flared, his ever present cigar nearly breaking in his hand as he pounded his fist on the table. “Don’t talk to me of disrespect. You, who doesn’t know the meaning of family. This thing of ours, it is beyond you. It is bigger than Heaven and Hell.” Taking a deep breath, the smile returned to his face, “I only wish to protect what is mine. What do I care about what the Voices of Hell want or do? What do I care if you claim humanity for your own? I only want protection.”
“What are you asking for, Al?” Galia’s tone was bored and more than irritated as he glared at the don.
“I have heard, through friends of ours, once the culling begins, you plan on taking out the families. I wish to come to an agreement about those who will not be touched.” Capone snapped his fingers and one of the same men that had carried the sword produced a piece of paper.
As Al laid the contract down on the table and turned it to face the three demons, Johnny Boy added, “In our family, we earn respect by deeds. You do for us, we will do for you.”
Hundreds of names had been written in blood upon the page, scrawled in a looping script. From her vantage point, Izzy couldn’t read them clearly, but her eyes strained for Giovanni anyway. He had been good to her, he had treated her with kindness, and she wanted him to survive. Even more, she wanted him to become a halfling like her, a made-demon instead of a made man.
“The terms?” Sydonay’s voice lost the seductive prowess, her demon showing itself in the whispered undertones.
“Sign the paper, offer these men your protection, and after the harvest, leave us to our own. You can have your angel, we keep the sword. You attempt retribution; we have the bigger gun, so to speak.”
“You have risked all this for the lives of less than four hundred men and demons? Are you mad?”
“Madness. Don’t talk to me of madness. I spent years in Alcatraz, standing outside myself, watching my mind decay like rotting meat. You know nothing of madness. I risked it for family, for the loyalty of bonds that can’t be broken. Tell me, Ashur, what did you risk the joys of Heaven for? What price was worth betraying your own?”
Ashur didn’t consult his first or second in command—there was no reason. He’d have handed over any one of his people to secure the return of Rafael before it was too late. The room temperature heated as he stood from the chair, massive ebony wings ripping outward. With the tip of a single black talon, he cut into his wrist and let the blood well up.
With my signature on this contract, your men may become exempt, but you have made an enemy far greater than you can imagine.” In a quick, easy gesture, Ashur dipped his nail in the blood and signed his name. Pushing the paper back to the center of the table, he growled, “Now, give us the boy.”
The three mobsters stood, their eyes like black glass as they glared their disapproval, and Capone offered his hand to Ashur, “A deal it is then. The kid’s in the back.” He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen when no one moved to take his hand.
“Iyzebel, go,” Ashur growled through his teeth.
Izzy stepped out of her hiding place behind the elderly twins and the bulldog faced Ogwald, “Yes, Ashur.”
As she turned to leave the room, Capone caught her by the arm, his meaty fingers gentle on he
r skin. “Iyzebel, my dear, I heard you had an unpleasant encounter with my friend here today. My apologies.” With an elbow into Luciano’s ribs, he goaded, “Still can’t believe you let this slip of a doll take out your eye, Lefty?” His laughter roared out of him as he propelled her toward the double doors leading into the kitchen.
Ashur lunged, “Get your hands off her!”
The sound of bullets sliding into chambers and deep demon growls filled the room, as Capone and Ashur stared each other down. Capone’s demon side came forward, but he still looked harmless in comparison to Ashur’s dark form. One wrong move and the room would be nothing but bloodshed and gore. The firepower would only slow the demons down, but it could kill a halfling like Izzy. There was no doubt who would win the battle, the Fallen had all the advantages, but the war would be lost if they awakened Rafael.
Laying her fingertips on Ash’s chest, Izzy whispered, “I’m fine. He’s not hurting me. I’m going to go get Rafael now.” She kept her voice calm and steady, looking into his eyes, soothing him as if he were purely beast.
His lips pulled back over large, sharp teeth in a snarl, “No, have one of your men bring him.”
Capone snapped his fingers, and one of the faceless minions skirted out of the room. Once the man had disappeared through the swinging double doors, Al grinned, his black eyes shining.
“Worried about her, are you, Ashur? That’s the trouble with dames, they make you weak.” Turning his attention back to Izzy, he winked, “If you ever get tired of being his slave, you come see me. I know how to treat a lady.”
Izzy couldn’t keep calm or quiet any longer. “You. Yea, I bet you do. Considering that all the truly great bosses died in a hail of bullets, but not you. Not the great Capone. It was your dick, not your gun that got you in the end. Lucky and Johnny, they didn’t go down with much glory either, did they? Old men who died of old age have no use to me.”
Capone drew his hand back to strike her, but Ashur was too quick. Grabbing the smaller man by the throat, he pinned him against the nearest wall. “You’re going to pay for that, you stupid fuck.”
Though his thick, clawed fingers wrapped around, Ashur’s hand, Capone chuckled and choked, “Weakness.”
“What the hell is going on here? Where are you taking me?” The sound of Rafael’s voice coming from the kitchen stopped Ashur from reacting further.
Dropping Capone and stepping back, he allowed his body to shift back to mortal form. Despite the ragged slits in the back of his jacket where his wings had ripped through and the fury in his green eyes, Ash looked perfectly normal.
As the goon pushed Rafael through the doors, the young man stopped, mouth hanging agape. After a moment of confused silence, he stammered, “Izzy? Mr. Daeva? Wha-what are you doing here?”
Iyzebel ran to his side, swallowing the ripple of electricity that shot through her skin as she took his hand. “Come on, I’ll explain later. Let’s get out of here.”
Raf pulled away. “No. I’ve been kidnapped, tied to a chair, left alone in the dark, and had this idiot,” he pointed to Capone, “tell me he was a demon. I want to know what the hell is going on, and what you have to do with it.”
She hated using her skills in front of the others. Any time she was forced to, she could feel their eyes burning into her, and she knew they all called her ‘Ashur’s little whore’ behind her back. Despite her displeasure, she knew she had no choice.
“Rafael,” Izzy purred his name as she pressed herself closer, brushing his arm with her breasts.
His body instantly softened, the wary look in his eyes fading to a confused and dull expression. “Izzy?”
“Yes, Raf. Come with me. Take me back to your apartment.” She stuck out her lip in a perfectly practiced pout, sexy and kittenish. “You promised to paint me.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Izzy took him by the hand again and gently pulled him toward the door. When the mobster that had brought Raf out tried to follow, Ashur growled, and she turned to see him with his hand on the man’s chest.
“Is your name on that list?”
“I don’t know.” The button man looked over at Luciano, “Boss?”
Ashur’s head spun toward the three bosses. “Is his name on that list.”
Johnny Boy answered, “No, but he is one of us.”
“If the name is not on that list, he is forfeit.” Ashur glanced back at Izzy, “I said get him out of here.”
She put her hand on the center of Rafael’s back and shoved him out into the night. As the door slammed shut behind them, Izzy heard a muttered cry and the sound of breaking bone. Ignoring what was happening inside, she ushered Raf to the waiting car, slid across the black leather seat, and slammed the door closed.
Desperate to keep him under her sway until they could make it safely away and think up a decent explanation, she cupped his cheek in her hand. Turning him to face her, she looked into his dark eyes—too distant, too vacant. She’d never seen anyone fall under her spell so quickly and completely.
“Rafael, are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” He mirrored her action, bringing up his hands to her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful. I want to paint you and kiss you. I want to destroy you.”
Izzy pulled back, the flash of his eyes frightening her as he said the final words. “What? What did you say?”
Before he could answer, the others exited the restaurant and Ogwald held the car door open. The others chose to stay and hunt, and Ashur was the only one to join them in the limo. Sitting back he wiped the blood from his hands with a white handkerchief. Izzy scooted away from Raf, lacing her fingers with his to keep contact, but distancing herself just the same.
“Ashur, I think we need to talk.” She shot a sideways glance at the still stupefied artist at her side.
Giving Rafael the once over, Ashur shook his head, “Whatever it is, Izzy, it doesn’t matter. You have to do it tonight.”
“Ash,” she hissed. “You don’t—”
“I said it doesn’t matter. We can’t risk it. Given tonight’s little incident, we can’t afford to leave our assets unprotected.”
Izzy stared at him in disbelief as she snarled, “As you wish.”
As if he were humoring a petulant child, Ashur sighed, “If it makes you feel better, I will make sure Ogwald is close by.”
Izzy simply nodded, her attention returning to Raf. Still clutching her hand, he brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. His head was bowed and a small frown pulled the corner of his lips down. Creases decorated his brow, as if he were deep in thought.
Ashur leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of Raf’s face. “Hey. You okay?”
Raf’s head jerked up, his eyes focusing for a split second, hatred written in the glare. The expression faded just as quickly as it had formed, and he muttered, “What the hell did you two get me into.”
Watching him fight the effects of her power, Izzy struggled. Because he’d reacted like no other, she had no way of knowing what was too much or too little. She wanted to pull back, allow him more clarity so that the despondent look would fade. She wanted to see him angry or confused, anything other than the befuddled weakling. However, she knew the angel waited just beneath the surface, and to release the man might give the creature its opportunity to awaken.
“We did nothing. The man who held you captive is insane. He believes himself to be a mafia boss and a demon. The men that were with him are well paid for their part in his manic delusion. After hearing about your debut at our residence, he wanted money, and we supplied it. Perhaps you should be more careful who you open the door for.”
Raf puzzled over Ashur’s words for a moment, before he seemed satisfied enough to lean back and continue the light tracing of his thumb over Izzy’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. You saved my life, I’m positive. Thank you. Thank you both. Please tell the other’s thank you as well.�
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Izzy was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. A little thread of guilt passed through her as she realized, the man was begging for forgiveness and showing gratitude to the very same cause of all that had befallen him. Shaken by the useless emotions that coursed shame into her heart, she lost herself in the rest of the drive.
Chapter Ten
The drive had been quiet, and once they’d dropped Ashur at the house, Izzy rolled down the divider and asked Ogwald to take her and Raf back to his apartment. The fresh memory of Rafael’s words still burned in her mind, and she left the divider down so that Ogwald could keep an eye on what happened over the next few miles.
At last, the car pulled up to the apartment building, and Ogwald opened the door. “Iyzebell, if you are okay with it, I’d like to go up and make sure everything is okay first.”
Izzy looked at Rafael, waiting for his reaction. To her surprise, he silently handed over the keys and waited patiently with her next to the car. In the light of the street lamp, with the world passing them by as if they were ghosts in the night, she could see the strain clearly on his features. Deep lines showed around his tired eyes, made more prominent by the paleness of his skin and dark circles.
Before she would have thought him weak, would have mentally cursed him for being human and lacking strength. Knowing he was not really a mortal, her opinion changed.
You should hate him. You know that. He is a killer. A monster. He has slain your brethren and condemned so many to the pits. He left them nothing more than wraiths in the flames, unable to bring themselves together again after he cut them down with that sword. As she chided herself, the demon in her growled in agreement. It hated the angel. It feared the angel.
Yet, the small part of her that was still a woman argued with vehemence. An angel as a lover. He is a powerful creature who shares your strength, but who will not dominate over you and turn you into a weak kitten. You can hate what you desire, but you cannot deny the need that burns for him.
Voices of Hell Page 8
