by S. J. West
I notice Gabriel give me a sideways glance before saying to Ravan, “I have a surprise for you, by the way.”
“Oh, really?” Ravan says with undisguised curiosity. “And what sort of surprise might that be?”
“A gift,” Gabriel replies, sounding as if this gift is something Ravan would never be able to guess the identity of on her own.
“And when will I receive this gift?”
Gabriel shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “Whenever you want; it’s in Lucian’s office.”
“Well, you know I have zero patience when it comes to getting something I want,” Ravan declares, almost giddy with excitement. “Show it to me.”
“Would you like to come along?” Gabriel asks me. “I think you might find it interesting.”
Gabriel looks at me with an amused expression on his face. I have no idea what he finds so funny, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll tag along.”
Before I start to follow Gabriel and Ravan, I look over to see where Lucian is. He’s still standing with Malcolm, talking in hushed tones. Just before I turn my head away, I see Malcolm raise his gaze briefly to look at me. A troubled expression mars his otherwise-handsome face before he returns his full attention to Lucian.
I follow Gabriel and Ravan down a hallway, and into what I presume to be Lucian’s office. A desk sits on the left side of the room with several monitors mounted on the wall behind it. It looks, to me, like some sort of surveillance system. The glass wall straight out from the door looks like it might be new. It still has a large ‘X’ in silver tape that newly installed windows sometimes have.
Gabriel walks up to the desk and reaches for something propped up against the wall behind it. When he holds it up for Ravan to see, I instantly recognize it as being the sword I saw lying on the dock when I woke up. When I asked Lucian if the sword belonged to him, he said it belonged to someone else, and that we didn’t need it.
“All yours if you want it,” Gabriel says to Ravan, with a smile.
“If I want it?” Ravan questions, like Gabriel knows full well that she does.
Ravan walks up to Gabriel, who gladly hands her the sword. As Ravan takes hold of its hilt, that annoying little voice deep inside me begins to scream in frustration again.
Ravan swings the sword back and forth a couple of times, as if testing its balance. She looks up at me, smiling in triumph.
I don’t like that smile. I don’t like it one bit.
CHAPTER TWO
I stand there and watch Ravan swing the sword with expert precision. With each slice through the air she makes, I can tell she’s becoming more and more frustrated about something.
“Why isn’t it working for me?” Ravan asks Gabriel angrily.
“Maybe you need an actual opponent,” he suggests.
As if by magic, a sword appears in Gabriel’s right hand, indicating to me that he’s probably an angel as well. It’s a beautiful sword, with a blade made from what looks like emerald and a hilt made of gold. There is writing along the blade, which is also gold, but it looks more like a series of runes than true letters.
Gabriel raises his sword and strikes at Ravan half-heartedly. When she meets his blade with her own, a loud ring reverberates in the air, hurting my ears. Ravan pushes Gabriel back in frustration.
“Nothing!” she yells, looking down at her sword like it’s purposely betraying her in some way.
“What exactly are you expecting it to do?” I ask out of curiosity. For some inexplicable reason, I’m experiencing joy from Ravan’s frustration. I know I shouldn’t be, but I simply can’t help it.
Ravan looks up from the blade of her sword. The loathing in her eyes for me in that moment is unmistakable, making me wonder why she and I seem to have a natural animosity towards one another.
“It’s really none of your business,” she says rather curtly, her earlier friendliness vanquished by my simple question. “But don’t worry; I’ll find a way to make it bend to my will. It’s only a matter of time.”
“There you are,” I hear Lucian say behind me as he walks into the room.
I turn in time to catch sight of the smile on his face slip away when he sees Ravan holding her newly-acquired possession.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to touch that,” Lucian tells Ravan, a dark undertone of anger lacing his words.
“I thought it would be a nice engagement present,” Gabriel tells Lucian, as if he’s hoping to deflect the other man’s anger onto himself. “It was my idea, Lucian, not hers.”
Lucian looks between the two of them for a moment before forcing a smile.
“What a wonderful idea, Gabriel,” Lucian declares. “I suppose a wife of yours deserves something as extraordinary as that sword. It is one of a kind. Now, don’t the two of you have more important business to take care of?” Lucian looks pointedly at Ravan. “I believe this country might need the leadership of its president right about now, don’t you?”
From the aggravated expression on Ravan’s face, I can tell she doesn’t like Lucian’s tone with her.
“You don’t seem very grateful for what I did for you tonight,” she tells him, lifting her chin haughtily.
I see Gabriel squeeze his eyes shut after Ravan’s statement, as if he’s preparing himself for Lucian’s reaction to her insolence.
“Of course I’m grateful,” Lucian says, “like any master is toward a pet that does what it was told to do.”
“I am not your pet,” Ravan practically growls.
“And like any pet,” Lucian continues, as if Ravan didn’t say anything at all, “it can be replaced with one that’s more obedient, especially if its usefulness runs its course.”
“Come on, Ravan,” Gabriel says, lightly touching her left arm. “We should get back to Washington to handle things.”
Before Ravan can even make a reply, which would have probably just made matters worse, Gabriel wisely phases them both away.
“Now, Jessica,” Lucian turns to face me, “why don’t you allow me to escort you back to the party? There are some people I would like you to meet.”
Without waiting for me to accept his offer, Lucian places his hands on my shoulders and turns me towards the door.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to make a small request of you,” Lucian tells me as we walk down the hallway.
“What kind of request?”
“I would advise against straying too far from where I am,” he tells me. “Not all of my friends are yours…”
“Are you trying to tell me Gabriel and Ravan would have hurt me?”
“Not them in particular,” Lucian says cautiously, “but there are those within my circle who might try to harm you.” Lucian places what is meant to be a comforting hand on the small of my back. “Just stay close to me, Jessica. I’ll protect you, like I promised.”
I don’t make a verbal reply. I simply nod my head, as if I’m agreeing to his request.
I trust Lucian’s promise of protection about as much as I liked seeing Ravan wielding that sword. For whatever reason, it bothered me…a lot.
When we re-enter the room where the party is taking place, Lucian walks us over to the guest of honor, who is surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. They all appear to be hanging on his every word, but the lust in their eyes reveals what they’re most interested in.
“Malcolm,” Lucian says, his voice scattering the women with his one word.
Malcolm turns to face us. He only looks at me briefly before giving Lucian his full attention.
“I believe you remember Jessica,” Lucian says to him.
“Yes,” Malcolm says, eyeing me with amusement, “but, from what you’ve told me, she probably doesn’t recall who I am. That concept is a strange one, I have to admit. I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t remember me.”
“I guess amnesia will do that to a person,” I reply.
Malcolm chuckles. “As good an excuse as any, I sup
pose. So, is it true you can’t remember anything about yourself? Nothing at all?”
“Nothing,” I confirm.
It’s not the complete truth, but no one seems to be able to detect my lie.
“Well, let me know if I can be of any assistance to you,” Malcolm says. “I do hate to see a beautiful woman in distress.”
Lucian places a casual arm over my shoulders. “Don’t worry about Jessica. She’s under my protection now.”
Malcolm smiles, tight-lipped, “Well, I guess you can’t ask for more than that.”
“Come along, Jessica,” Lucian says, grabbing my right arm possessively, “I’m sure you could use some refreshments after your ordeal.”
As Lucian leads me towards the refreshment table, I notice the black woman who introduced Malcolm’s arrival walk up and hand him a glass of champagne. Malcolm bends his head down and briefly whispers something into her ear. Her eyes immediately find me as she nods at whatever it is he just said to her.
Lucian stays true to his word for most of the evening. He remains stuck to my side, making it impossible for me to find an escape route out of his penthouse. From what I can tell, the only exit from the room I’m in is the front door, which is obviously out of the question, since Lucian won’t let me out of his sight. I need to find a back way out of his home if I’m ever going to devise a successful getaway.
Even if I can find a way out of the apartment house, where will I go once I’ve escaped? I have no idea, but my inner voice is telling me it’s safer outside in the ruins of this smoldering city than it is trapped in here with Lucian.
I feel like Lucian’s prized possession that evening as he introduces me to a series of strangers at the party. They all seem amazed that I’m present, which only lends more proof to my theory that Lucian and I aren’t actually friends. If we were, no one should be surprised that I’m at a party he’s hosting, yet all of them are.
At one point in the evening, Malcolm requests some dance music.
“Might I have this first dance?” Lucian asks me, holding out his right hand to me and bending at the waist slightly, like a true gentleman asking a lady for her hand.
“I’m not sure I know how to dance,” I tell him. “Do I?”
A look of uncertainty passes over Lucian’s face before he says, “If you’ve lost the ability, I’m sure I can help you find it again. Just follow my lead, Jessica. I won’t let you fall.”
Lucian’s last statement brings me up short as I hear a ghostly voice from my past say, “I won’t let you fall. I’ll never let you fall, Jessi.”
My heart begins to race, because I know the voice I just heard, but I can’t seem to remember the name of the person to whom it belongs. The knowledge is inside my brain, but it remains irritatingly out of my reach.
I place my hand in Lucian’s, hoping that the dance will trigger another memory.
Unfortunately, the song is a slow one, and Lucian brings my body in close to his.
“Try to follow my lead,” Lucian murmurs intimately. “We’ll go slowly. Just sway your hips and shuffle your feet from side to side with the music.”
I do as Lucian instructs, but find such close contact with his own hips unpleasant, especially when I realize he’s becoming aroused by our movements against one another.
“You are rather beautiful,” Lucian whispers as I try to avoid making direct eye contact with him. I keep my gaze directed over his shoulder at the other people dancing around us. “I can see why he…”
Lucian cuts his sentence short. Curious to know why he stopped his train of thought so abruptly, I look into his eyes in the hopes of catching a glimpse of what he’s thinking. I soon regret that decision. It’s obvious by his heated gaze, and the protrusion now nudging my hips uncomfortably, that Lucian is thinking about only one thing.
“Excuse me…” I hear a familiar voice say behind me. “Mind if I cut in, Lucian? It is my party, after all.”
Reluctantly, Lucian pulls his gaze away from mine to look at the interloper.
“Of course, Malcolm,” Lucian says graciously. Though, from the sudden tenseness of his body against mine, I know Lucian is irritated by Malcolm’s intrusion. “Just as long as you promise to give her back to me afterwards.”
Lucian takes a step back, releasing his hold on me.
“I solemnly promise to let her go at the end of this song,” Malcolm says with an easygoing grin.
Even though I don’t know him and have no reason to trust him, I breathe a sigh of relief when Malcolm takes me into his arms.
As soon as Lucian is out of earshot, Malcolm whispers, “Are you all right, Jess?”
I hesitate before answering, because something inside me wants to tell the truth, even though the situation calls for a lie. Malcolm has just become one of Lucian’s trusted advisors. That’s what this party is celebrating. Why should I trust him?
“I’m fine,” I say, leaving my answer short and purposely avoiding Malcolm’s gaze.
“Jess,” he says urgently, “look at me.”
Reluctantly, and only because I know Malcolm will probably keep hounding me until I actually do look at him, I meet his gaze and find worry in his eyes for me. I may not know this man, but something tells me that his concern is genuine.
“Do you really have amnesia or are you just pretending to?” he asks in an urgent whisper.
I look at him incredulously, “Why would I pretend something like that? Is that the kind of person I am?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Malcolm sighs worriedly. “But I had to ask.”
I notice Malcolm glance over my shoulder in the direction Lucian walked.
“Ok, listen to me very carefully,” he says, in a voice so low I have to strain to hear his next words, “when the shit hits the fan, stay behind me.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask in confusion.
Malcolm sighs heavily again. “All hell is about to break loose, and I don’t want you to get caught in the middle.”
“Why?” I ask, feeling my heart race. “What’s about to happen?”
Malcolm looks down at me and says, “Your husband is about to come here to get you, which, I should add, is completely against the advice I sent to him through Noel. But he’s not listening to reason, apparently. All he can think about is getting you out of here, no matter the cost.”
“My husband?” I ask, feeling my heart lift with joy. “Who is he? What’s his name?”
Malcolm is only able to take a deep breath in preparation to answer my question before I hear a woman scream behind me. Even before I’m able to turn around, I hear the clash of more than a few swords.
At the front door, there are at least 20 people who weren’t in the room just a second ago. I would have remembered them, since almost all of them are wearing leather outfits similar in design to mine. Some are all in black and others are wearing outfits with different colored leather sewn together. A few of the partygoers scatter like frightened children, while the majority head straight for the party-crashers, determined to get rid of them.
One man in particular stands out in the crowd, because he’s shirtless and only wearing a pair of blue jeans. However, it’s not only his casual attire that draws my attention. It’s also the fact that he looks exactly like Lucian. The man looks at me, smiles, winks, and then disappears, telling me by this action that he’s an angel too.
Lucian, who is now holding a glowing black sword, is fighting a blond-haired man dressed in black leather. I can’t see the man’s face because he’s backing Lucian into a corner with his own sword. It isn’t until Lucian phases behind the man, forcing him to turn around, that I finally see the stranger’s face.
I watch as this man blocks Lucian’s forceful downward swing with his sword and matches every swing thereafter with the same ferocity and precision. I continue to stare at his face because I feel certain I know him. Could this man be the husband Malcolm mentioned?
The man must sense me watching him. He looks my way for
a fraction of a second, but that seems to be all Lucian needs in order to land a devastating strike. I watch in horror as Lucian stabs the other man straight in the gut. Blood spurts out of the blond man’s mouth as he falls to his knees.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I make a mad dash towards the stranger and Lucian, grabbing a large candlestick from the table where the refreshments were laid out. Just before Lucian is able to swing his sword to lop off the head of the man kneeling before him, I’m able to whack my supposed friend on the back of the head. My blow doesn’t seem to hurt Lucian much, considering the small grunt of pain he gives, but it does distract him long enough for the other man to raise his sword and slice Lucian from groin to mid-sternum.
Letting out a cry of pure agony, Lucian quickly turns around, swinging his sword towards me. Just before the blade guts me, I’m pushed out of the way by someone who looks exactly like Malcolm, but can’t be.
“Get back, Jess!” Malcolm’s doppelganger orders.
I feel someone grab my left arm roughly. The Malcolm I know shoves me behind him for safekeeping.
“I thought I told you to stay behind me!” he yells in frustration.
“Take your hands off her!” I hear a woman order.
The Malcolm I’m standing with turns around, keeping his body strategically positioned between this new threat and me.
As I chance a glance around Malcolm, I watch as a petite woman with long, dark hair wearing a black and purple leather outfit strides determinedly towards us.
“Do you really believe your strong enough to take her away from me, Nina?” Malcolm challenges.
“You know I can,” Nina says without a hint of bravado, only certainty. She holds two short swords in both of her hands as she approaches Malcolm.
“Would you really fight an unarmed man? I thought War Angels had a better code of ethics,” he taunts.
The woman named Nina twirls the swords in her hands and slides them into the sheaths on either side of her hips. “I don’t need them to whip your ass, Xavier. Hand to hand combat is fine with me.”
Malcolm closes the short distance between him and Nina by phasing. Even with his unexpected move, Nina isn’t taken off-guard. I half suspect she was counting on him to do it. Even before he phases in, she’s already spinning in the air and kicks him squarely in the chest when he materializes in front of her. She ends up kicking him with so much force he’s propelled past me and onto the floor. Before he can recover, Nina is on him, straddling his waist, and driving her fist into his face with strikes so fast I can barely see them. Finally, she grabs his head with both her hands.
