It wasn’t until yesterday afternoon, when I had changed out of my lingerie outfit after coming to the manor, that I paid closer mind to the business card I had shoved into my thigh-high boots. The number scribbled on the back may have been for the Sagax, but Nick had also circled the bottom of the front, writing “me” beside the business’s listed phone number.
I gave Blaine the sweetest smile I could find. “Well, since you’ve proven to be stingy in the information department, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” I sauntered past him and joined the Texan at his table.
Blaine seemed less inclined to follow suit, but after surveying the room, he finally planted himself beside me.
“You two know how to piss off some serious bigwigs, I’ll give you that much,” Nick sighed, downing the last of his beer. Roxy came back to the table, all too eager and sweet, insisting we order something. Given Nick’s rather ruffled state, it came as no surprise that he ordered another beer, while Blaine just shook his head.
Knowing she wouldn’t leave until at least one of us relented, I asked for a coke, happy to see her skip away to the bar. “What have you heard?”
“Reynolds has rallied at least five large Reaper packs to join him in your manhunt,” Nick said lowly. “And if word-of-mouth is correct, then he’s also teamed up with someone rather influential Upstairs.”
“Let me guess, the Angel of Death?” I remarked flatly, more annoyed than anything.
Nick tried not to chuckle. “That name puts the fear of God in most people, but…ooookay. Yeah, Samael.”
I looked to Blaine for clarification.
“Samael is Death’s real name. It means ‘Venom of God’.”
“Oh, that sounds…lovely.” I wasn’t aware of how odd it must have seemed as an outsider, witnessing the silent exchanges between Blaine and me, until I realized I’d said that last bit out loud, seeing Nick’s eyebrows crooked in confusion. “Sorry.”
This at least earned Blaine a small smile.
Nick just shook his head. “Anyway, the guy’s pretty pissed that you’re trying to break the Anastasis Seal.”
“Anastasis?” I turned to Blaine again, but he looked equally confused.
The Texan leaned back in his seat, half-laughing. “You two have no idea what’s going on here, do you?”
“Apparently not,” I muttered.
“You know how God flooded the Earth way back when to wipe out all the Mages and fallen angels?”
We both nodded.
“Well, the only reason people like you even exist anymore is because a 17th century coven of witches managed to resurrect the demon Azazeal back to Earth in bodily form, allowing him to repopulate the world with Mages. Heaven counteracted the movement with a group of angels who willingly fell from Paradise so they could create Reapers, hoping to wipe out all you guys again, along with the coven. Only problem, the seal that was used to bring the demon back was still open for anyone powerful enough to perform the ritual. To prevent more demons from being resurrected, Samael had to build another seal around it to block its power. The ward was bound by the blood of those angels who fell to protect us. Each one of them made an offering at seven different locations around the perimeter of the area in question to form an invisible wall that no demon can cross.” Nick pulled out an old leather-bound journal from the manila envelope beside him, unfolding an equally old map from within the pages. He laid it flat on the table, showing seven distinct markers placed around the outside of the drawing.
Nothing about the map looked familiar, except the name inscribed along the river at the top of the page. “West Fork?” Holy crap! “This is Mystic Harbor.”
“South of it, actually. But yeah. Jameson Battlefield, where Azazeal was originally summoned, has more supernatural energy there than anywhere else you’re gonna find in this hemisphere,” said Nick. “The only problem: demons can’t get to it so long as the protection ward is up. Whatever your bosses wish to do there is going to require summoning some serious amount of energy. That’s where you and the others come in.” Nick flipped through the journal, cutting to a specific page, and slid it over to us. “To terminate a spell such as this, you have to offer the equivalent of the same magical properties used to enact it. The blood sacrificed was entirely angelic. Considering there’s been three-hundred years of humans mudding the angelic gene pool, far more blood would have to be sacrificed from a descendant to match the properties the original angels provided.”
A pit formed at the bottom of my stomach. “How much?”
“Based on the number of girls your kind has killed and drained over the past two months, all of it.”
My stomach hollowed out. All I could think about was my vision eight weeks ago of that poor girl whose throat had been slit by Hellhounds.
Nick proceeded to lay out a modern map of Mystic Harbor and placed it beside the old one. He circled a number of positions on the bottom of the current map with a red marker. “These are where each of the bodies were found.” He overlaid the two maps, and sure enough, the location of where that girl had been killed coincided with one of the seven blood offering sites. She’d been killed to help break the ward. And there had been a murder at each of the marked locations, except one. “If you think your bosses are pains in the ass now, imagine every last one of them in their true bodily forms. Each of them used to be a powerful Mage or a fallen angel, either killed in the flood or taken out by Reapers following the coven’s uprising. As soon as your bosses find that last candidate, all Hell’s gonna break loose. They’ve been holding onto centuries, if not millenniums, of aggression. War would be inevitable. Hence, Samael’s desperation to take you two out.”
Amid my internal panic at the thought of a holy war, Blaine didn’t look the least bit impressed. “Can you really blame them? Some of those demons you’re talking about were ‘Light’ Mages when they were alive. Angelic. Your kind still hunted them down without cause, apart from your own fear, and damned them to eternal suffering, forcing them to live as parasites on unsuspecting victims just so they can feel something. If every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a new face staring back at me, I’d be pretty pissed too.”
I had never thought of possession that way.
“I’m not saying our ancestors never made mistakes—”
“Yet you guys are fast to pass judgment on us,” Blaine countered. “The whole ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ thing is pretty hilarious. Mages inherit either Nephilim runes or Enochian runes, and you are all too eager to throw the ‘evil’ label on the one that gives the slightest bit of trouble. Multiple Reapers have tried to kill my mate, one of your kind did in fact kill me, and a group performed such unspeakable atrocities on my brother that you made him into the monster you claimed him to already be. We never did anything to provoke these attacks, and yet you’ve affectionately labeled yourselves as the ‘good’ guys.”
“So what? You think you’re the hero in all this?” Nick scoffed.
“Me?” Blaine laughed. “Hardly.”
“Because your kind killed my family, kidnapped the person I love, and brutally butchered a number of my friends and colleagues. I’ve never done anything to ever hurt you, just as you haven’t to me, but that doesn’t change hundreds of years worth of bad blood. One side kills someone, the other hunts them down, the original side retaliates, and the cycle just goes on and on. Your kind will continue to hunt me till the day I die, and nothing I do is going to change that.”
“If we’re your mortal enemies, then why are you talking with us?” Blaine asked.
“Your mate is the only hope I have right now.” Nick slipped the information back into the journal. “If your session with the Sagax has taught me anything, it’s that you’re not like the rest of them. And I’m putting faith in you that you’ll do the right thing, when the moment comes.”
“What do you mean? Where do we fit into this?” I asked. “I mean, specifically?”
“Royal blood goes a long way, and the fact that you two a
re mates only makes your potential energy that much stronger. A few drops of blood from you guys are all your bosses will need. I’m asking you to not let that happen.” The Reaper placed everything back into the manila envelope and sealed it. “Samael has informants on Earth that he sends word to, but it’s not like he can just pop down here whenever he feels like it. So it’s a pretty big deal that he’s scheduled to arrive in the next day or so, and Reynolds is planning a full-frontal assault to take place when that happens. Both of them are desperate enough that they will do just about anything to draw you out. My advice: get as far away from here as you can, and hide anyone who could be used as leverage against you.”
“And you’re telling us this out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Not entirely, no.” Nick slid the envelope to us. “Someone I love was taken by your kind. I need someone with an ear close to the ground, someone who can ask questions about her and not raise suspicion. I suspect, being who you are, it wouldn’t be that much trouble to at least ask around.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” I assured, taking the packet.
The Reaper nodded, but it couldn’t mask the grim expression, and it broke my heart. I’d seen that look before. In the mirror. In my hands rested the only glimmer of hope he had of finding whoever it was that he cared so much about. I tried to think of something else to say, but Blaine hauled me up, clearly wanting to get the hell out of here.
“What happened to Val?” I asked the moment he pulled me into the parking lot.
“What happened to me when?”
Blaine and I both stopped, finding his brother leaning against the Benz we had stolen borrowed for our little excursion.
“Mind telling me what you’re both doing out and about, in my car no less?” Val inquired flatly.
“Well, you guys didn’t let me drive my Cutlass up here, so I have limited means of transport,” said Blaine, rounding the vehicle to the driver’s door.
Val pinned a hand to his chest and forced him away. “Yeah, and you crashed my brand new Cadi, so there’s no way in hell I’m letting you get behind the wheel again. Besides, Maddox should have your precious Cutlass up at the manor in a few hours. Back seat, now.”
We were on the road for only a few minutes when we came to a red light.
“Shit!” I grabbed Blaine by the collar and hurled him down across the seat into my lap as I threw my hood over my head.
Val angled the rearview mirror at us. “Should I even ask?”
Blaine tried lifting his head, but I immediately pushed him back down. “It’s Syringe,” I sneered, motioning to the SUV pulled up beside us.
“What?” Both brothers tried to steal a look over at the vehicle, but only Val managed as I struggled to keep Blaine down.
“That’s the bastard that drugged me in my room,” I clarified, nodding to the familiar face across the way. I’d thought for sure those Hellhounds had ripped him to pieces on the road. Pity.
“You want me to take care of him?” asked Val, opening his glove box where a revolver rested amid some paperwork.
The idea sounded fantastic, but alas I shook my head. “No, we can’t afford to draw any unwanted attention. And with Angel Face over here,” I said, gesturing to Blaine, “his hair hardly makes him inconspicuous.”
That mischievous grin greeted me as the Prince peered up from my lap. “Did you just call me Angel Face?”
“It’s from Fight Club,” I clarified, giving him a light swat on the head.
“I know. I just like hearing you say that.”
Syringe got a green arrow. As soon as the SUV began rolling through the intersection, that inexplicable tug in my chest beckoned me. Blaine must have felt it too, because he shot up and looked out the window. “Follow him,” we both ordered.
Chapter 27
Another Way to Die
We’d been tailing the Reaper for about five minutes when the burner phone in my pocket rang.
Reese.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered.
“Montgomery?”
“Mark? What are you doing with Reese’s phone?”
“They took her,” he panted.
“Who took who?”
Blaine snatched the phone, hitting the speaker button.
“School just got out, and the three of us were heading into the parking lot when a group of armed men in ski masks came up behind Reese and stabbed him with some sort of syringe. They were about to grab him as he passed out, but another guy showed up and said something about Blackburn being off-limits. So the bastards grabbed Carly instead!”
“And you let them take her?” Val barked.
“Did you not hear the part where I said ‘armed’ men?” Mark snapped back.
“Pussy.”
“Who the hell is this?” demanded McDowell.
I swatted Val in the arm. “Forget him. Did they say anything else when they took her?”
“No.”
“Did you see any of their faces?”
“No.”
“Did you see what direction they headed in after they took her?”
“Uh…No.”
“Gee, isn’t he just a wealth of knowledge,” Val scolded. “Can you at least tell me what color the sky is?” he further mocked.
I smacked him again.
“What? It’s not my fault this kid’s about as useless as a chocolate teapot.”
Mark had more than his fair share of colorful names for the Dark Mage, but we didn’t have time for this.
“You two can get back to your dick-measuring contest later. Focus,” I demanded. “Where’s Reese right now?”
“He’s still unconscious,” Mark confirmed. “The police should be here any moment.”
Blaine shook his head. “Are you still in the parking lot?”
“Ah…yeah.” Mark clearly hadn’t anticipated hearing from his old friend. “Ryder, is that you?”
“Get Blackburn out of there. Now,” Blaine demanded. “Don’t wait for the police. Just load him up into your car and go somewhere safe, okay? Lay low.”
***
The skies only turned darker as another batch of storms moved up from the south. It seemed like a safe assumption that Syringe would lead us where we needed to go, so Val kept a healthy distance behind him as we headed deeper into the forestlands. The Reaper’s SUV eventually turned off into a gravel parking lot on an empty back road where a large cabin rested in the hillside. A sign out front read, “Wayland State Park – Main Center.” Beneath it, someone had added, “Due to Extreme Wet Conditions, The Park Is Closed. We hope to reopen on Jan. 1st.”
For a place that claimed to be shut down, there were still an awful lot of lights on inside the Park Center. And even though I had never been here before, the three men standing out front with guns holstered at their hips seemed the teeniest bit odd as well. Val headed further down the road and parked off on the shoulder. We got out and walked the perimeter of the forest preserve. Razor wire lined the tops of the tall chain linked fences guarding the property, making it impossible to slip through. It took about a half mile’s walk more before we came across a small dirt path. It headed downhill, and fence continued, but I’d spotted a small gap in the curve.
Struggling to keep our traction in the wet grass, we slid our way down to the separation. I banged sharply against the fence as I lost my footing, trying to dodge a dead log as I snaked between the frameworks. The guys followed in suit, and we found the closest marked path that led back to the service center. No one was guarding the back of the extensive cabin, so we were able to steal a look through the window. Spears, terrariums, and old native artifacts filled several glass containers, while an arrowhead collection and various stuffed animal heads were mounted on the wooden walls. There was a security camera in the far corner of the main room, but it just so happened to be turned off.
Of course it was.
Something smashed out front. Skulking to the side of the center, we peered around the bend, getting a per
fect view of the parking lot out front. A stiletto-clad foot was sticking out of the shattered back window of a dark SUV. I knew those heels anywhere, and Val knew those stems all too well.
Carly.
Even with a blindfold over her eyes and ropes binding her hands together, the girl was like a cornered wolverine. She thrashed and slashed out at anyone and everyone who touched her.
“Why didn’t you shoot her up with one of the doses we gave you?” asked Syringe from the porch.
Three guys unloaded from the SUV, all struggling to yank the blonde out from the backseat.
“We already used the first on the boy,” said the driver. “And Shamus tried subduing this little spitfire on the way over here, but she wound up sticking the idiot with the needle instead.”
Sure enough, they opened the other car door, and an unconscious man with nail marks down his face slumped sideways, toppling out of the backseat.
“A girl after my own heart,” Val purred lowly.
Syringe climbed down and met with Carly as she was dragged out of the vehicle. He whispered something to her and she finally stilled, feeling the barrel of his gun press beneath her chin. Val drew out his own gun, preparing to launch forward when Blaine gripped his jacket and yanked him back.
“What?” Val mouthed angrily.
His brother nodded back to the parking lot where two more vehicles were pulling up. Carly was immediately dragged up the porch and taken inside. Checking to see if the coast was clear, we hurried over to the back door, and Blaine manipulated the three sets of locks with a simple twist of his hand. Each unlatched themselves, letting him pull the door open. Voices carried from the front rooms, but no one appeared to be back by us.
The hallways wrapped around the many different display areas, giving us some much needed coverage as we made our way towards the lobby. Taking refuge behind a display showcasing an enormous stuffed elk, we could see the main foyer. Seventy-seven inches of pure muscles adorned with copper brown hair stormed through the entryway.
Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2) Page 28
