He waited until Argus returned to ogling the drug vials before he checked in on his earpiece, murmuring low to avoid detection. “In place.”
The world stopped spinning, and he tapped the shank of his boot against the chair leg, relieved to find his dagger in place. The jolt of Wyck’s bright voice made his stomach lurch anew. “Morning, sunshine. Nice of you to join us.”
Eyes clamped shut while the singsong tone ricocheted in his damaged skull, he vowed Wyck would pay once this mission was complete. He gave his perky Scion brother a less-than-hospitable grunt.
Wyck was unfazed. “Wake up on the wrong side of the torture chair this morning?”
“Basta! Tell me we’re ready to end this cazzo then shut the hell up!” Kagan growled low, watching Argus pull out another syringe and disappear behind him.
“Fine, Mr. Crankypants.” Wyck chuckled. “Ready when you are.”
He waited until Argus’s rank breath fanned his face, forcing himself to remain still. The demon hovered at his side, inches from his IV port.
“I know you’re awake, Kagan. Not totally functional, I’d guess, but awake.” Argus snorted. “Don’t worry, my brain-damaged friend. I’ll put you out of your misery soon enough.”
The needle plunged into the port and Kagan struck, knocking Argus sideways before yanking the IV from his arm. He bent to remove the dagger from his boot and stood too fast. Kagan clutched the wall while the world spun out of control. Merda!
Argus charged and sent them both tumbling, skidding across the carpet into the next room. Kagan’s dagger flew from his hand and clattered away. The demon pulled another syringe from his pocket and plunged it deep into Kagan shoulder.
Kagan grabbed Argus’s wrist before he could push the plunger. He twisted until the bones cracked then followed with a hard punch to the side of the demon’s head. Kagan fumbled for his dagger while Argus stretched to grab the syringe. His vision blurring and pain pulsing behind his eyes, Kagan fought to stay conscious. A loud crash sounded from the doorway.
Argus’s body slumped forward over Kagan’s chest, Chago’s dagger protruding from the side of his portly neck.
Kagan pulled the needle from his shoulder and tossed it across the room before collapsing back to the floor.
Chago crouched beside him and shoved Argus’s body off before helping him to his feet. Kagan ducked his head as he stood and Chago whistled low. “Uff! That’s one nasty skull fracture.”
“Give me a minute.” Kagan collapsed into a kitchen chair and dropped his face in his hands. Chago freed Mira and reached to secure her shirt. Kagan leapt to unsteady feet and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No. I’ll do it.”
He slumped back down, and Chago placed Mira’s unconscious form on his lap. Kagan tugged the sides of her shredded T-shirt around her shoulders and tied the loose ends into a crude tank top. She curled into him. He tucked her closer, warmth spreading through his chest. “You’re safe now, piccola. I’ve got you.”
A loud boom issued from the living room, and the smell of rotten eggs filled the air. Chago’s curse followed close behind. Kagan swiveled to find Chago beside a pool of blood, his dagger dangling from his limp hand.
“Where’s Argus?”
Chago met his gaze and spoke into his earpiece. “Houston, we have a problem.”
Chapter 10
“What the hell happened?” Xander said, his attention zeroing in on the syringes scattered among the blood. He trekked through the junkyard of an apartment, stopping to untangle a battered throw rug from his feet and narrowly avoiding a collision with the garish black velvet Elvis room divider. The combined smell of well-used gym socks, ammonia, and stale pine room freshener completed the location’s meth lab ambiance.
Chago looked at Xander and shook his head, his expression still tinged with disbelief. “He shouldn’t have regenerated so fast.”
Xander grunted in response then moved into the kitchen to examine Kagan’s skull. “You okay?”
Kagan gave Xan a terse nod. Mira stirred and he tucked her closer.
“Hey Xan, you better come see this.” Chago called from the living room.
“Be there in a sec.” Xander pressed his finger to the pulse point on Mira’s neck, frowning at the unsteady rhythm. “How long’s she been out?”
“Thirty minutes.” Kagan said. “I already put in a call to Sloane.”
Xander nodded, hiding his uncertainty beneath a thick layer of efficiency. The brilliant Scion researcher’s drugs were never meant for use on humans. He scanned Mira’s ashen complexion and twitching muscles and hoped they weren’t too late.
“Check this out,” Chago said, tossing a piece of paper to him.
Xander snatched the note and scanned the contents. The scrawled language was like fingernails on the chalkboard of his already sour mood. “Sorry. My Enochian’s a tad rusty.”
Chago peered over Xander’s shoulder. “Looks like an incantation.”
“Why would Argus need a spell?” Xander said, more to himself than anyone else. Chago supplied one anyway, blithely unaware of Xander’s sudden urge to punch something.
“Based on those ingredients, I’d guess it’s some kind of releasing magic.”
Skata. Xander began his customary pace, his mind churning out possible motives. “To release the Seal?”
The squeak of a chair against linoleum stopped Xander in his tracks. He looked up to find Kagan rubbing his eyes with a shaky hand.
“Cristo, Xan, stop pacing and let’s get out of here before the smell makes me puke.”
Mira mumbled something incoherent against Kagan’s chest and Xander relented.
He phoned Wyck to bring the Suburban around then helped Kagan stand, Mira still clutched to his chest. Chago grabbed the metal briefcase from the counter. “Seriously, Xan, hurry up. This place smells worse than a barnyard.”
Minutes later, Wyck slid into a spot by the building’s entrance. Chago opened the rear door of the Suburban and helped Kagan into the vehicle with Mira, then climbed into the vacant rear passenger seat while Xander took the front seat. Wyck pulled out into the early morning traffic. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Mira’s pale face and torn shirt. “What the hell’d he do to her?”
“Shot her full of Sloane’s drugs. She’s lucky to be alive.” Xander removed the amulet and spell from his pocket. “You guys head to Kagan’s. I’m taking this to Divinity.”
Wyck merged onto the expressway as Xander flashed from the truck.
• • •
Xander blinked, adjusting to his new surroundings. Divinity strode toward him across the marble floor with the precision of a drill sergeant. People rushed around the large room in every direction. Furniture was being carted to and fro while priceless artwork was crated and tagged.
“This better be important, Xander.” She paused at his side, her cropped white hair mussed and faint lines marring the corners of her otherwise perfect, iridescent eyes. The terseness of her tone made Xander feel like an errant schoolboy in the headmaster’s office.
“We found this in Argus’s possession.” He held out the parchment, frowning when a handmaiden loaded down with scrolls and manuscripts bumped into his arm. “What the hell’s going on, Divinity? And don’t tell me you’re redecorating.”
Divinity yanked the note from his hand and scanned the contents. Her hesitation, so brief only someone who knew her well—like himself—would have noticed. She stuffed the document back into his grasp and marched into the foyer, barking orders to the moving crew.
Against his better judgment, Xander pursued the issue, intrigued by her avoidance. He’d never known anything to disturb Divinity’s well-structured serenity. Until today. Her stilted movements and air of agitation indicated she was definitely discombobulated, and he intended to find out why.
“Chago thinks it’s some kind of magic.” Xander followed her into the den while angels, handmaidens, and the occasional celestial spirit toted possessions and artifacts from the room. “A re
leasing spell, perhaps.”
Divinity turned to face him, her smile thin and her gaze hard. “Xander, surely you spent enough time training with the angels to pick up some of their language?”
Xander’s mouth puckered. He’d spent a lifetime around the pretentious pricks and hadn’t been inclined to study their rarified Enochian. He knew a smattering, enough to survive, and that was fine by his standards.
“You boys never did play well together, did you?” Divinity perched on the desk’s edge, her expression softening. A second handmaiden glided in with documents requiring Divinity’s signature. The faceless handmaidens were distant relations to angels and almost as obnoxious. Unreadable and untrustworthy, they gained an identity of their own only after fulfilling an eon of faithful service to Divinity. They also gained their independence and free will. A pang of something akin to jealousy nipped his guts. Independence.
Xander looked away, exasperated. He was getting nowhere fast and contemplating the handmaidens’ undeserved advantage wasn’t helping. Argus’s vague incantation taunted him from the page. Two words caught his attention, repeated again and again, always together. Gohed Aziagier. Everlasting Harvest.
“What would this spell have to do with the Seals?”
“It’s a key, Xander. To unlock the barrier between the living and the dead.” Divinity paced on the marble steps. “What I’d like to know is how Argus got his claws on it. It’s supposed to be locked up tight in Lucifer’s private vault.”
Two archangels broke into an argument while moving a sofa, and Xander glanced in their direction. No translation required on those words. His mouth quirked into a grin and he turned back to Divinity. “You going somewhere?”
Her gaze flew to his then dashed away. She tapped a finger on her bottom lip before answering. “My vaults were breached again. I’m consolidating.”
The Empyrean vaults were breeched? Xander’s heart skipped before plummeting. Dread burrowed in deep to fill the void. The rules of celestial engagement had altered. “Who could breach your security?”
Divinity looked at him again, and Xander caught the spark of golden glow storming behind her pupils. “We found traces of myrrh and lamb’s blood on the walls.”
“Angels?”
Divinity turned toward the desk and gave a terse nod. “Or their kin.”
Kin? Not handmaidens—too disorganized. Spirits? No, they never left the realm. What else could it be? Heat flared in his pocket and refocused his attention on the reason for his visit. He removed the amulet, letting it dangle from his fingers. “Argus had this.”
Divinity reached forward, her fingers stopping short of contact. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, reverent. “Antares.”
Xander cocked a brow. The artifact was obviously more important than he’d imagined. Antares. His mind shuffled through its limited Enochian files and supplied a translation. Anti-Mars? Perfect. Yet another puzzle to solve. Get in line. Xander grabbed a discarded dusting cloth from the floor and wrapped the still-searing artifact before stuffing it in his pocket.
Divinity sighed. “Antares is from Lucifer’s lair. They’ve hit his vaults too.”
• • •
Xander clutched his coffee and stared blankly at the floor, his thoughts a million miles away.
“Damn, I’m starving!” Wyck’s stomach rumbled loud. He craned his head from behind the computer screen to see if anyone else concurred. Chago nodded his consent.
Wyck snapped his fingers below Xander’s nose and grinned. “C’mon, mate. I need to eat and there’s nothing here.”
With four massive Scion warriors present, Xander doubted Argus would be stupid enough to try anything. His stomach growled in agreement. Maybe food was exactly what he needed. The atmosphere of the apartment seemed to crackle with some indefinable energy, urging him to accept. “Fine.”
“What about you, love guru?” Wyck waved at Kagan, who promptly flipped him off.
“Nice!” Wyck chuckled and surveyed the ladies. Mira and Zoe both nodded. Wyck pushed up from behind his laptop and pulled on his coat. “Cool!”
Everyone crowded around the door to bundle up, talking incessantly. Xander frowned as the reckless energy ramped higher. Something seemed off, but maybe it was starvation talking.
An hour later, with his stomach bulging and a table full of half-empty pitchers of beer, Wyck’s buoyant mood became contagious. Xander felt younger than he had in eons.
Wyck hoisted his glass high and proclaimed, “We should go out!”
“We are out, culo.” Chago chuckled and stretched out in his chair.
“Nah. I mean out out. To a club or something. I want to party.” Wyck shot a sly grin at Mira and Zoe.
“Party’s on the corner outside, amico.” Kagan hiked a thumb toward the hookers by the streetlight before picking up the nearest pitcher for a refill. “If you’re not too particular.”
“No, mate. I like my ladies classy. You know, ‘Lady in the street, freak in the bed.’” He winked, ignoring the appreciative sighs of the women at the bar.
“Merda, Wyck. Just take one of them home and save us the show.” Chago indicated the drooling women behind his friend. “I don’t dance.”
“Chago, all you have to do is bump and grind these days. I’m pretty sure you can handle it, my rhythm-challenged brother.” Wyck snorted at Chago’s obscene gesture.
“What about you, Xan? Up for some club crawling?” Wyck chugged more beer as he awaited his commander’s reply. Xander glanced at Mira and Zoe. Both women looked none the worse for wear. In fact, Zoe was smiling for the first time since he’d met her. While his inner warrior stressed caution and prudence, the male in him couldn’t get enough of the dark-haired female across from him with the flashing eyes and cryptic smile. For once, he decided to put the man before the mission. Xander finished his drink and rose to pull on his coat, his gaze fixed on Zoe. “Why not? It’s been a hell of a week. Where should we go?”
“How about The G Spot? It’s close.” Mira stood up too.
“You sure you want to return after what happened the other night?” Kagan asked, his tone concerned.
Mira shrugged. “Have to go sometime, right? Plus, I can get us in free.”
• • •
Mira’s pulse throbbed in time to the techno-dance music pouring over the gyrating bodies on the crowded dance floor. It was Ladies’ Night, and the gorgeous warriors surrounding her and Zoe soon became the most popular guys in the room. Women skirted their group, the massive Scions’ muscled physiques and sexy smiles drawing them in like gnats to a bug zapper—much to the chagrin of the other males present.
Chago got his groove on after a couple of stiff drinks and hooked up with a blonde who gave him a personal lap dance in the far corner. Wyck chose a fiery redhead with a seductive smile to shower with his ample affections while Kagan continued to hover too protectively for Mira’s taste.
She attempted to duck away at every opportunity, craving space. Those looks he kept giving her smacked of possessiveness. After the escapade in Wyck’s bathroom, she needed time and distance to figure out where this thing with Kagan was headed, to decide if she wanted to take the trip. He seemed determined to remain in her face no matter which way she turned. Escape proved impossible, so she went for avoidance instead. Heat flared in her mark, but she pushed it out of her mind. Tonight she wanted to forget.
Her gaze fell on Xander, who turned out to be a pretty smooth criminal on the dance floor. His focus remained tethered to her best friend while Zoe continued to ignore him. Interesting. Mira smiled and spun toward the DJ booth when a new tune started, bypassing Kagan’s frustrated, judgmental scowl. She spied Wyck and Chago with their respective partners, getting down and dirty. Seems the Scion were two-for-four tonight. Not the best odds.
• • •
Xander maneuvered to the bar and ordered a beer from the well-endowed blonde behind the counter. The white bandage on one side of her head glowed beneath the neon lights. Kagan had told
him about the attack. The woman seemed to have no residual effects, proving once again humans were quite resilient. He glanced at the wall clock. The long day was fast becoming an even longer night. His energy boost from earlier had drained faster than a newly snaked tub. Now he was on guard, his inner warrior raging. Why had he agreed to this?
While he waited for his order, he scanned the crowded dance floor and glimpsed Zoe, with her glossy dark hair and red sweater, twirling near the center. Xander grabbed his bottle and tipped the bartender without a glance. The brunette set his radar on high alert, and he’d yet to figure out why. She was hardly a threat and about as far from his type as a woman could get. He preferred them warm, willing, and ready. Zoe was cold, distant, and unavailable. Yet his attention continued to drift in her direction, dwelling on the gentle sway of her hips and the way his nerves zinged with awareness long after their brief contact at Wyck’s. He sipped his stout ale and pondered the dilemma.
She was a mystery, and he’d always loved a great puzzle. Wyck had never finished his sentence the day before. Zoe’s a powerful . . . something. Xander intended to find out exactly what something was. When he had more time. Maybe next century. Or more likely, never.
“You need a refill, honey?” The bartender’s voice purred over his shoulder, derailing his thoughts.
Xander twisted to confront an enormous set of breasts. His eyes dropped before he could stop himself. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.” The blonde’s gaze roved in blatant invitation. “You decide different, sweetie, be sure and let me know, okay?”
He nodded and returned his attention to the crowded club. Mira and Zoe climbed atop a small platform to dance in front of the DJ booth. Xander checked the time again. Vai, it was becoming a long night indeed.
• • •
Mira surveyed the floor below her with a strange rush of increasing power. The music echoed through her chest, driving her body to respond to the frantic rhythm. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. A hard male body pressed against her from behind. She turned her head and met Kagan’s blue gaze. A flood of animalistic sexual frustration slashed her rational mind to shreds. She spun to face him, her hands gripping his T-shirt to pull him closer. Mira ground against him while her tongue lapped the thudding pulse at the base of his throat.
Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2 Page 12
