Hope For More (Trinity Book 3)

by Devin Fontaine

  In the parking lot behind the courthouse, Thomas hesitated. Decision made, instead of dematerializing home he pulled out his phone and stared at Hope’s contact information. He agonized, waffling back and forth several times over whether or not to call. When he closed his eyes and imagined her soft, small body tucked against his, the scent of lavender filling his nose, he caved.

  Fuck it.

  His finger hovered over the green button, ready to press, when the phone rang. After a brief startle, Thomas saw the name and knew his plans were ruined.

  Well shit.

  LUKE RAN his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock. Only three minutes passed since he last checked yet it felt like hours. Behind him, the door opened and a male practitioner—a sorcerer to be exact—entered the third-floor library of the Trinity mansion. Luke twisted to see who it was. When he caught a look of determination in the sorcerer’s eyes, he rose from his seat and headed toward the familiar male.

  “Duncan.”

  The sorcerer spun around to see who called his name. Luke waved and gave him a small smile. Duncan Harris was a very old and experienced sorcerer and the short, stocky redhead was well respected in the immortal community. He met Luke halfway and extended a hand, which Luke shook heartily.

  “Luke,” Duncan said. He circled around Luke and his gaze dropped to Luke’s table. One of the sorcerer’s ginger brows rose. “Research?”

  Luke looked over his shoulder and noted the obviously empty table top, devoid of any sort of reading material.

  “Aye, but I’m waiting on someone.” He checked his phone yet again. Still five minutes until the agreed upon time. Joan managed to obtain permission to include him in her investigation, nullifying the silencing spell. Now that Luke could assist in the cases of the deceased immortals, they decided to meet at the library in the event they must needs do research. “You?”

  Duncan scowled and Luke was taken aback by the raw fury in the sorcerer’s eyes. From what Luke knew of the male and their previous interactions, Duncan was a kind and easygoing male, not a hint of which could be found this morning. He glanced down and noted Duncan’s hands fisted at his sides.

  “I’m going to find a way to locate that bastard Horseman then string him up. Make him pay for taking my daughter,” Duncan growled. His blue eyes blazed and his upper lip curled back to expose teeth. Luke sensed the crackle of energy that surrounded the sorcerer and scented the sharp odor of ozone. Duncan, his outward appearance pleasant and harmless, made it easy to forget how much power the male wielded. Standing in front of him at that moment, Luke would hate to be on the receiving end of the sorcerer’s ire.

  A few months ago, Duncan’s only child, a daughter named True, went missing. She was found not long ago, right before Michael raided the Unknown’s compound, a sin-filled den of perversion and death. The tiny sorceress had been kept alone in a warded cell, physical wounds healed, but left mentally abused and traumatized. True was the only immortal found on the mostly empty property and as a physician, Luke was the one to examine her when she was brought to Eastlake Falls Hospital.

  “Are you certain that’s a wise decision? I mean, tangling with a Horseman is a very dangerous undertaking.”

  He sounded like a hypocrite, urging Duncan to avoid investigating that which should be left to the police. Luke also had no business inserting himself in any official investigations. Like Duncan, it was pure selfishness that spurred him on, Duncan to avenge his daughter and Luke his desire to be close to Joan.

  Duncan’s eyes flashed with resentment and lines creased his youthful face. “I am over a thousand years old, saint. No one tells me what I can and cannot do.”

  Using Luke’s classification instead of his name was a clear warning to back off. It spoke volumes, a.k.a. butt the fuck out.

  He held up his hands, palms out. “I mean not to insult you, Duncan, and you are correct. You have every right to find out as much as you can about Famine. If I had a family of mine own, I’m certain I would do the same. Just, if you discover anything useful, I ask you to share it with the authorities. Everyone requires as much of an advantage over the Horseman as they can get.”

  Duncan’s lips pressed tight, but he gave a sharp nod. “Agreed.”

  For multiple reasons, Luke didn’t for one second believe Duncan had any intention of sharing whatever he came across in the course of his research. Luke refused, however, to argue with an angry and hurt father.

  “My thanks, good friend.” Luke dipped his chin.

  The two males stared at each other, the tension in the air uncomfortable. Thankfully, the library door opened and the tiny, pixie-like St. Joan of Arc stepped inside and scanned the room. When she spotted Duncan and Luke, she wasted no time striding toward them, shoulders back and head held high. Fates, the way she moved—confident, secure, and utterly fearless—was impressive. And more attractive than Luke thought possible.

  He cleared his throat and shifted to conceal the humiliating bulge which began to grow in his slacks. Aye, he was no stranger to sexual urges. In truth, as a saint, he was once human. Besides, even angels weren’t immune to temptations of the flesh, and there were no rules against intercourse with a consenting partner. But nothing ever affected Luke the way the fierce blonde detective did. His skin tingled and his heart hammered, the overworked muscle pumping blood to a very different organ. One much, much lower on his body.

  “Duncan. Luke,” Joan said. Her eyes landed on first the sorcerer, then Luke as she greeted them.

  “Good morning, Detective Puella,” Duncan said in his usual genteel fashion. “I’m afraid I must needs be going. I have much to do and only a few hours free in which to get it done.”

  “Good to see you,” Joan replied.

  “Duncan,” Luke said, tipping his chin once more. The two males exchanged a look and Luke hoped Duncan knew he wouldn’t tell Joan about the sorcerer’s private ‘research.’ Duncan must needs have understood, because Luke noted the way his shoulders relaxed.

  Once Duncan wandered off, somewhere deep in the stacks of ancient texts that spanned three full stories, Joan and Luke sat at an empty table. She glanced around and before he thought it through, Luke placed his hand atop of hers. She stiffened but didn’t pull away. Emboldened, Luke pushed on.

  “If you’re worried, don’t be. Duncan shan’t eavesdrop and he shan’t repeat anything he mayhap overhear. You need not censor yourself.”

  Joan’s brows creased then she nodded. “All right. Tell me what you know of deceased immortals. You were around for the Great Battle, as was I. I am aware you saw a few.”

  Surprised by the question, Luke pulled his hand back. He explained what he witnessed during that dark time. It pained him to recall the death and bloodshed of so many. Mostly humans, caught in the middle of a war they didn’t understand. There were rare times when an immortal was cut down, and Luke took each and every death as a personal failure. He was the physician, after all. His sole reason for existence to preserve life. It was a lesson hard learned, but sometimes there was simply nothing to be done.

  “Most immortals who died did so at the hands of one of the Divine Weapons. And there are many. Possibly more than any of us realizes.”

  Joan squinted and her lips pursed. “What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “I mean, we know of the weapons of the Archangels.” Joan nodded. “Michael’s Sword of Light, Raphael’s Staff of Moses, Azrael’s Bow of Judgment, and Gabriel’s Horn. Those are in possession of the Archangels. Uriel can wield fire, but as the Archangel of Peace, he doesn’t possess a weapon, per se. He has the immortal fire, but Uriel uses the flames sparingly.”

  “Fine. What about these other weapons you speak of? You mentioned there’s no way to count them all, but you must have an idea. How many do you know of in existence?”

  He folded his hands on the table. “Each of the seven Daemon Kings possesses a weapon of their own.”

  Joan’s eyes widened. “Should I not have known this before now?”
she asked, her expression that of frustration.

  “What immortals are told or not told is not my decision. I know not how the knowledge is passed along, only that the weapons were all banished with the Kings after the battle.”

  “Do we know that for certain?” Joan asked, her tone short and words clipped. “I mean, Michael kept it quiet that Famine walked the Earthly plane all these years. It’s highly possible a weapon or two remain behind as well.”

  “It’s possible,” Luke agreed.

  Joan sighed and proceeded to tell Luke about finding two deceased immortals, their bodies discarded around the city, energy gone. As she went further into detail, Luke felt colder and colder until a chill shook his body. Marks around the mouth, life-force left without a trace. No other marks on the bodies.

  “It sounds as if no weapons were used upon the two deceased immortals of which you speak.”

  “Three.”

  Luke’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “We got another the eve of yesterday.” Joan rubbed her eyes and for the first time, the saint’s hardened shell cracked. She appeared… vulnerable. Luke failed to notice until now that her hazel eyes were rimmed with red and her skin looked dull where usually it shone radiant. “Another daemon. A fairly young incubus. Scorch marks, no trace of life-force in the body.” She paused and he heard her breath hitch. Her stare fell to the table, denying Luke the chance to read those expressive eyes. “The incubus was left like a sack of garbage in a parking lot near the river.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Platitudes were useless, Luke knew. Hundreds, possibly thousands of times in the emergency room, he muttered condolences to the family of a human who didn’t survive their injuries. Once again, without thinking, Luke extended a hand, this time gripping Joan’s shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. Her gaze immediately flicked to his and it felt like his heart stopped. Every single emotion Joan felt was displayed right there in the green and brown depths for him to read. Anger, pain, failure… The urge to comfort her was strong. So strong he yanked his arm away as if the touch scalded.

  Ever the warrior, Joan lifted her chin and steeled her jaw. In the span of a heartbeat her emotional eyes went cold. “So I suggest we start by finding spells that can alter the energy of an immortal. Mayhap make the life-force vulnerable. If a weapon was not used, a spell is the most likely possibility.”

  Because Joan’s icy stare sent chills down his spine, it took a second for Luke to respond. He would be the first to admit he found Joan’s take-no-prisoners attitude sexy and alluring, but this… it felt… different. The immortal next to him had completely detached, mind and soul separated, beautiful face as cold and expressionless as a killer’s.

  She pushed back from the table and stood. Luke waited until Joan disappeared in the stacks before exhaling and scrubbing his hands over his face. As exhausted as he was, he still wanted to help stop the Horseman from killing any more immortals. Scratch that. He would help.

  But at what cost? How would he see Joan when it was over? The female who stalked off was not the one he fantasized about for longer than he cared to admit. Would Luke ever be able to look at Joan the same way again?

  With a long sigh, he rose from his chair. Only time would tell, and right now, there was much work to be done.

  “GARRETT, I’m not having this discussion again. I’m twenty-one years old and can make my own decisions. God, I’ve been walking around this city by myself since we were kids.”

  Hope showed Garrett her back and stuffed her wallet in her purse. When she turned around, her brother stood in the doorway to her bedroom. His shoulders were so wide when he had his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread, they almost touched the frame on both sides. Too bad it didn’t intimidate her. She knew her brother loved her and would never, ever hurt her.

  “Why can’t you listen to reason?” Garrett’s face flushed red and she found herself fascinated by a thick vein in his forehead that throbbed in time with his pulse.

  “I’m not being unreasonable.” She shot him a glare and silently chuckled when he flinched. “Visiting my friends is anything but unreasonable. It’s not as if I’m going traipsing around the Westside.”

  The Westside of Eastlake Falls was known as the less than savory end of town, to put it nicely. Crimes occurred there on a daily basis, mostly minor, but shootings, rapes, and assaults were common enough for most to stay clear.

  Garrett’s scowl deepened. “Hell will freeze the fuck over the day I let you go to the Westside.”

  Hope stepped right up to go toe-to-toe with her brother and tipped her head back so she could stare way up into his eyes. Sometimes she really hated being so much shorter than everyone, especially Garrett when he was acting like a big old ass.

  “I’m not going to the Westside, that’s my point. Besides, you don’t let me do anything. I’m an adult. Now, unless you’re going to restrain me, move out of the way.”

  Garrett threw his bulging arms in the air and huffed. “I don’t get you. You’ve been attacked twice in the last few months, and—”

  “Once, Garrett. I’ve been attacked once. Nothing touched me the other day and you know it.” Okay, yes, she was present when some huge rabid dog mauled a man to death, but it never came near her. Her brother’s deliberate exaggeration was irritating. “And guess what? Both times were when I was at work, not walking down the street.”

  Garrett’s head fell forward and he used one hand to massage the back of his neck. His stiff posture unclenched and Hope knew she won. Not that she wouldn’t just go anyway. When he lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes swam with worry.

  “You’re taking a cab.”

  Hope opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut. “Fine. That’s reasonable.”

  The corner of Garrett’s mouth quirked up. He opened his arms and she fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the head. “I love you, sis. I’m not trying to be a dick. Just be careful.”

  She hugged him back then stepped away. “I will. I’m only going to Faith’s place. It’s super safe and there’s security guards in the lobby.”

  Garrett seemed pleased by that news. He moved aside and let her pass. Hope heard the heavy fall of his footsteps follow her down the hall. “I’ll give you money for the cab.”

  She spun and stood on her toes. Garrett leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. “I got it, Gar. I’ll be here when you get back from work.”

  He scowled. “You better take a cab home. I mean it.”

  “I will, geez.” She rolled her eyes and he pinched her arm.

  “Brat.”

  “You know it,” she called out as she left the apartment. God, she loved him, but his hovering was suffocating. It’s why she called Verity to see what she was up to. When her ex-roommate said she was on her way to Faith’s, she invited Hope to join them. She couldn’t say yes fast enough. Anything to get out of the apartment.

  The cab ride to Faith’s building was short, and a few minutes later, she stood in a sleek chrome and glass elevator on her way to the penthouse. When she rang the doorbell, the hairs on her arms stood on end. It felt almost like a cloud of static electricity hovered in front of her. Hope was almost afraid to touch the doorknob in case she got the shock of her life. Right before the door opened, the sensation faded.

  “Hope!” Before she got a word out, she was yanked inside by a grinning Faith and pulled into her arms.

  “Today is my day to be hugged,” she said as she was passed to Verity, who did the same.

  “I guess you’re huggable,” Faith said. “We were about to make drinks, you interested?” Faith waggled her brows and Hope giggled.

  “God yes.” They all laughed.

  Two or five drinks later, the three girls were sprawled on the thick rug in the great room. Verity lay on her stomach, her feet swinging back and forth in the air while Hope leaned back on a suede sofa, sipping on whatever concoction Verity whipped up. They took turn
s experimenting with Dante’s very well stocked bar. The latest drink was a strange murky green color that tasted of citrus and coconuts. It went down smooth. Too smooth. One minute, Hope sloshed around a full glass, the next, it was empty. She turned it upside-down to catch every last drop with her tongue.

  “Like it?”

  Hope turned to see Verity grinning.

  “Oh yeah.” She nodded. “That was the best one so far.”

  “You say that every time.” Faith giggled when Hope gave her a glassy-eyed grin.

  Dang, this room is big. And spinning. Hope laughed.

  “Well, I can’t help that they’re all good.”

  Faith’s smile disappeared. She looked at Hope and then Verity. “I’m so glad you guys came over. I’ve been going crazy, with being stuck in here all the time.”

  Despite her semi-intoxicated—okay, wasted—state, Hope sat a little straighter and turned to gape at her friend. “Wait, what?”

  “Ugh, it’s so frustrating. Dante doesn’t want me going out,” Faith explained. “He says it’s ‘too dangerous’ right now with the murders and what happened at Intrigue the other day.” Faith made air quotes and rolled her eyes. She cut her gaze in Hope’s direction, then Faith’s blue eyes widened almost comically. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot you were there when it happened. Are you okay?”

  Hope waved Faith off. “No, it’s fine. No big deal. I mean, yeah, it was scary and all, but I wasn’t in any danger.”

  “Dang, you’re braver than me,” Verity added. “I probably would have peed my pants.” She closed her eyes and shivered.

  “No, you wouldn’t have.” Hope shook her head.

  Wow. Alcohol + movement = dizzy.

  Faith and Verity exchanged a look that left her confused. Like they knew something she didn’t. Before she could ask, Verity reached over and clutched Hope’s hand between both of hers.