Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2

by Traci Douglass

  Chago licked the corner of his mouth. Irena had the crazy urge to kiss him senseless. Tiny beads of sweat shimmered on his forehead and she ached to trail her tongue across his slick skin and taste the salty moisture. As if sensing her thoughts, he swiped a hand over his face and stood, his dark voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I need to hit the shower.”

  He held the lobby door open and motioned for her to enter. Irena flounced past him, heartily turned-on and seriously confused. Men.

  • • •

  An hour later, Chago sat with Irena at a café table beside a long bank of windows. He ignored his now seemingly constant need to touch her and focused on the busy street outside while Irena drove him insane.

  “What about our talk?”

  “What?” He glanced away from the windows and forced himself not to stare at her lips as he struggled to remember her question. Si, their talk. Exactly the topic he didn’t want to discuss. Now certainly wasn’t the time to expose all his secrets. Instead, he stalled her with a different topic. “We need to discuss Omega’s true purpose in the Congo.”

  “Omega’s a peacekeeping organization. Enough said.” Her eyes held a glint of mischief. “Now let’s talk about something more interesting.”

  Si. Chago laughed then gulped down half his beer. No. He crossed his arms. “There’s more to Omega than their public persona.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Drake?”

  “For his sake, I hope not. Tell me about your birthmark. Unusual shape, si?”

  “Oh, right. Looks like a sword. Yes, it’s weird, huh?” She flashed him a small, self-deprecating grin. “Thank God, it’s normally hidden.”

  “I find it most . . . intriguing.” He leaned forward.

  “Mind if I join you two? I’m famished.” Drake approached their table, his uninvited presence putting a fast kibosh on any chance at diplomacy. Irena fussed with her napkin while Chago fisted the edge of the tablecloth and contemplated homicide.

  Drake pulled up a chair and made himself comfy, prattling on nothing and seemingly oblivious to the impending threat of bodily harm. “What’s on special today?”

  The odious man ordered lunch and after the waiter left he made the unfortunate mistake of grabbing Irena’s hand. She snatched it away and scooted closer to the window. He failed to suppress his low growl.

  “So how’s the visit to Kinshasa, Chago? I heard you were involved in a scuffle downtown.”

  “Si.” Innocent’s description of Turay’s arms-pusher resurfaced and Drake’s life expectancy dropped by several years. “You have spies in this area.”

  “Always. Remind me again why you’re here?”

  “Business. Security.”

  Drake placed an arm on the back of Irena’s chair. She stood and grabbed her purse from the table. “Excuse me. I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll go lie down.”

  Chago stood as well. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, no. I’m just going to my room. I’ll be fine.”

  Innocent’s men lingered in the lobby and he gave the nearest guy a nod as Irena walked out. Chago tracked her until she disappeared into the elevator, with the armed guards in tow. Only then did he return his attention to his uninvited lunch guest.

  “I don’t like being spied on.”

  “Nobody does. But it’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid.” Drake hailed the waiter and canceled his order. “Please excuse me, but I’ve just remembered another meeting.”

  Chago finished his coffee, watching while Drake left the hotel and climbed into a pale yellow pickup near the hotel’s entrance. Righteous anger and bitter satisfaction bubbled in his gut as a piece of the puzzle fell into place. Omega was supplying the rebels with weapons.

  • • •

  Archon had hidden at the rear of this abandoned hanger for hours, waiting for the hideously dressed man and his unknown accomplice. Networks of the Bantu tribesmen had led him to this remote location on the outskirts of Kinshasa. They still viewed him as a god, despite his continued feedings. Now they offered themselves up as sacrifices, thinking their voodoo magic would grant them immortality. How wrong they were.

  A metal door slid open at the far end of the building. Two figures entered, silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun. Archon maneuvered around several more crates for a better viewing position. Several more men followed, light glinting off the barrels of their weapons. The guards had been easy to convert to his cause. After the initial introductions were made and the proper inducements had been found—namely drugs, money, and terror—reaching the movement’s leaders had been a snap.

  Murmurs reverberated off the metal walls, barely distinguishable above the squeaky rats scurrying for food. He inched closer to the fray and strained to hear their conversation, recognizing the broken speech of the one the guards called the Terminator. The clipped tones of the other man, however, were new. In the dim light, their faces were impossible to discern.

  “Where me fuckin’ weapons?”

  “Patience, Turay. Patience. My suppliers are working hard to get you exactly what you need.”

  A derisive snort sounded, followed by a bark of laughter. “You think me a fool? I pay you a fuckload of money to gets them weapons here in two days. Gots me a war to fight, git? Now what’s me gonna fight wit? Me good looks?”

  Sniggers rang out from the guards. Archon could smell the adrenaline of the one nearest to him. Hunger niggled, but he tamped it down. Feeding could come later. A rat skittered across his cloven foot and he snatched it up, swallowing the creature whole before returning his attention to the scene playing out before him.

  “You’ll get your weapons, Turay. Then you can wage your little conflict and I can get the hell out of this shithole.” The man’s contemptuous tone reminded Archon of his father. “Don’t know why you’d want to fight over this filthy place anyway.”

  “Dis my home, fucker.” Turay’s snarl resounded off the nearby crates. “Say something like that again, and you be dead, git?”

  Guns cocked and silence reigned for a brief moment before the other man continued.

  “Look, I need you and your men to complete a job. You handle the assignment and you’ll get your weapons.” The snooty man’s tone held a steel edge. “Guaranteed.”

  “What makes you tink you in a place to bargain?”

  “Because without me, your little struggle falls apart. No Drake, no weapons. Ever.” His unpleasant laugh reverberated as the man’s steps shuffled closer to Archon. The scent of expensive cologne and fear floated on the air. This Drake wasn’t as calm as he sounded. “I need a man killed.”

  A click sounded, followed by a sudden burst of light, quickly extinguished. Tobacco smoke hung heavy. “Dis corpse got a name?”

  “Chago.”

  Archon sat back on his heels. If the Scion were here, the Seal was close. For years, he’d listened to Lucifer’s inane bragging about his beloved Seals and his future plans. None of the plans included Archon.

  “What’s in it for me? Besides me weapons.”

  “Money. Power. Success. Omega’s backers have unlimited resources. They can provide you with anything you desire.”

  “Anything I want, huh?” Turay laughed. “Just like da fucking lottery.” Another round of laughter sounded from the assembled men. “When you needs this done?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  The glow of a cigarette passed by the space between the crates in front of Archon, allowing him a glimpse at the insurgent leader. He’d spotted him once before, his flamboyant garb worse than any disaster Lucifer had ever wrought. The man took a last drag on his smoke and dropped the spent butt to the floor, crushing it underfoot. Darkness descended once more. “Where we find dis Chago?”

  “He’ll be at the airport tomorrow. Have your men and transport ready. I want this done cleanly. No mistakes.”

  “No problems.” Turay’s tone dripped with faux solicitude. “Now lets git us a drink and discuss what me wants in return.”

&
nbsp; Their voices trailed off and a plan formed in Archon’s mind. He needed a way into this fight and the financial backing to stay there. Turay had the struggle but not the means. This Drake was the required person. Now all he needed was an opportunity.

  Before the guard closest to him could leave, Archon grabbed ahold of his waistband and hauled him to a remote corner of the hanger. Mind control was arduous business, but his current limited speech left him little choice. He pushed the instructions into the fellow’s mind with scant trouble. Fear always provided the best gateways. Arrange a private meeting with Drake tomorrow evening. No witnesses.

  Plan in motion, Archon’s thoughts moved on to the Scion. Years had passed since his last encounter with Chago. The warrior had lost his mate that day, a tragic result of bad decisions. Archon had offered him a choice. Abandon his duty or the girl died. He’d chosen duty. He wondered if the battle-hardened warrior would make the same mistake twice.

  With time to kill and revenge to spare, Archon headed out into the fields surrounding the abandoned hanger. The tall grass provided ample cover as he headed toward the open countryside.

  Time for a Scion reintroduction.

  Chapter 11

  Chago checked the time and knocked on Irena’s door. Five forty-five sharp.

  She stepped out and his breath caught.

  Her white sundress glowed like ivory against her tan skin and her hair gleamed beneath the recessed lights. The sapphire blue scarf he’d bought circled her neck. Pride welled in his chest. The hue matched the exact shade of her eyes. Chago forced his vocal cords into strangled speech. “Wow. You’re . . . Wow.”

  “Thanks. You’re pretty wow yourself.”

  He couldn’t focus on anything other than the woman before him. Screw the clothes he’d thrown on half an hour ago. As long as they matched and covered the important stuff, who cared? Hell, even matching was optional when compared to the goddess before him.

  They made their way downstairs and Chago placed his hand at the small of Irena’s back. An odd heat trailed up his arm from the point of contact. He glanced down and remembered her birthmark. The Seal? Perhaps. Still, he’d only felt this connection once before, so long ago he’d begun to doubt its existence. And the bond he’d shared with Yana had nothing to do with ancient curses or weapons of destruction.

  He escorted her through the crowded lobby. She bumped back into his chest several times to avoid the crush of people. A toddler screamed across their path and Irena halted. Chago didn’t, and came into full body contact when they collided. She turned in his direction, her eyes ablaze and her lips parted.

  Wildfire tore through his bloodstream and he stepped away, his nerves thrumming with life. Shit. No illusions now. His previous assessment had been correct. This had nothing to do with the Seal and everything to do with Irena.

  They emerged into the late afternoon heat. Near the curb, a man leaned against a dilapidated white Sentra and held a self-made sign with the word “Chago” scrawled in red marker.

  After assisting Irena into their rickety ride, Chago slid into the backseat beside her. He settled in as they took off at breakneck speed through the chaotic lanes. Soon, they left the busy downtown behind and moved into a more residential area.

  Irena glanced at the passing scenery and frowned. “I thought we were going to the bar.”

  Before Chago could answer, the taxi stopped outside a ramshackle ranch-style home with a long porch spanning the front. He helped Irena out of the car and looked around. “This must be Innocent’s home.”

  The driver refused his attempts to pay, insisting the fare had already been settled. As the vehicle pulled away, the front door of the house opened and Innocent waved them over. Kids piled out behind him. The dusty yard soon filled with a circus of laughing, playing children.

  “Thanks so much for inviting us to your home. It’s an honor,” Irena said.

  “Don’t say so yet.” Innocent cracked a smile. “You ain’t been inside.”

  Chago stepped behind her and assessed the home’s weather-beaten exterior. Despite the structure’s obvious age, the spotless porch and new roof displayed their owner’s care. He extended his hand and offered his host a genuine smile. “Thanks for the invitation. Good to see you again.”

  Innocent gave Chago a pointed stare. “You recovered okay?”

  “That’s the second time someone mentioned recovery.” Irena glanced between the two men, her expression suspicious. “What happened earlier?”

  “He gots caught up in some fighting wit the local insurgents at the market. No worries, though. He takes care he-self, this man do. Took out some of Turay’s men and one of they ugly yellow trucks.”

  Chago shrugged off the compliment and avoided Irena’s astonished stare. “They’re not well trained. Hell, most of them are kids with guns. Plus, Innocent was there to help.”

  Irena’s accusatory stare narrowed, her hands perched atop her hips. “We’re here to ease tensions between the two sides, not make them worse. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

  Their host led them to his home’s wide veranda and motioned for them to take a seat. Chago held one of several rocking chairs for Irena then claimed the one beside her. Innocent waited until they were both settled before pulling up a stool across from them.

  “He right, Miss Irena. That skirmish wasn’t no big deal. I’s doing my part’s all.”

  A female voice announced dinner from inside the house. The tantalizing smells of roasted meat and potatoes wafted through the screen door. Irena’s stomach growled loud and Chago glanced in her direction. His own gut rumbled at the delicious aroma of the food. Innocent herded his brood through the door and motioned for his guests to enter. Once inside, they all gathered around a long wooden table flanked by benches. Their host introduced his wife, Celina, and their children as the meal commenced. Irena discussed the state of the clinic with Celina—the head nurse at the facility—and made note of the supplies needed, promising to contact someone in the States to send reinforcements as quickly as possible.

  Chago observed Irena interact with Innocent’s family as if in a trance.

  Irena glanced at him, her expression amused. She cocked her head to the side and squinted as if he were a wayward puppy. Her lips moved, but the words floated past him like a dream.

  “Chago?”

  He snapped out of his reverie to find everyone staring at him. Perfect. Served him right for allowing his mind to wander. He looked at Irena again. “Sorry. What was the question?”

  “Celina asked your profession.” Irena’s smile beamed innocence personified, but the flicker of humor in her eyes told a different story.

  “Oh. I’m in intelligence.”

  “Before you said security.” Irena frowned. “Which is it?”

  “The two are not mutually exclusive, querida.”

  She blushed and looked away.

  “That’s how you recognized them weapons earlier?” Innocent asked. Chago nodded and the militia leader seemed to consider the information for a moment before he pushed up from his seat and waved his arms at his brood. “C’mon, kids. You’s help clean this up then get yourselves to bed. Big school day tomorrow.”

  The family rose en masse and obeyed without argument.

  Chago hid his amazement. His opinion of Innocent cranked a few notches higher toward admiration. Despite their less than ideal conditions, the man had carved a decent life out of the wilderness, something he both related to and respected.

  Innocent suggested they move to the porch. Irena elected to stay inside and help Celina with the dishes. Chago followed his host outside and Innocent offered him a smoke, but he declined. A lighter flared and the orange tip of a lit cigarette glowed in the darkness. The twilight filled with sounds of creaking wood and locusts.

  “We need you.” Innocent’s quiet voice carried like a balm across the shadowed porch.

  Right. Chago gave a half-smile. If only he had a dime for every time he’d heard those words over
the course of his long life. “Irena’s right, Innocent. We’re here to stop the conflict, not increase it.”

  “What if the only way to end the violence is to fight?” Innocent sat back in his chair, propping a foot up on the porch rail. “To die?”

  He recognized the man’s tone. The resignation of one who’d reached the terminus of hope. “Brutality rarely solves anything. A lesson I learned the hard way, my friend. Don’t make the same mistake.”

  “Used to agree with you.” Innocent glanced through the nearby window. “Now I believe different. We must fight for what we know is right. What we know is good. Truth.”

  Following his host’s gaze, Chago spotted the closed bedroom door where Innocent’s children slept and the two women standing at the sink. He pictured Irena in the kitchen on his ranch, smiling as he embraced her from behind and pulled her against him. An eagle called from overhead, its keen jarring him back to harsh reality.

  “How do you propose to triumph, Innocent? Those men this morning were armed to the eyeballs and more than willing to kill. It’s only a matter of time until they receive the training required to organize. You’d need a hell of a militia to defeat the latest Russian military equipment.”

  “I got me some surprises up my sleeve.”

  “Really? And what might those be?”

  “You.”

  Chago fought to bolster some righteous fury. No use. Innocent’s smile should carry a contagion warning. Soon, his lips twitched and he unleashed a full-blown grin. Damn. He did love a challenge and this civil war was shaping up to be one hell of a retirement send-off. “Heaven help us if I’m your secret weapon.”

  “Countin’ on it.”

  The screen door squeaked and both men glanced up. Chago caught Irena’s eye as she stepped outside. Celina joined them as well and Innocent’s voice broke the quiet. “Anybody up for a game of cards?”

  Everyone nodded and Innocent went back in the house to grab the deck.

  Irena pulled up a chair beside Chago. Once more, he lost track of his surroundings, immersed in the depths of her eyes. He acknowledged, but didn’t heed, the eerie stillness settling over the plain until the lights flickered and died.