He stood so close, she smelled the coffee on his breath. “Hello? Anyone home?”
She cleared her throat. “Hi.”
The kid jumped back a full three feet. “Holy shit.” He laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t see you, Miss.” He shook his head. This time his laugh was hesitant.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Man, guess I was daydreaming or something.”
“Or something.” She reached into her purse for her wallet.
“It’s all paid, tip and everything.” Again, he angled his head, looking past her, as if she’d already disappeared.
“Thanks.” She took the box and closed the door.
Haven House hadn’t made her visible.
Lilith had.
Chapter 3
Carnation, Washington
Duncan had been on the private charter for ten hours. In that time, the whole damned world had gone pear-shaped. He’d intended to chat with the Watchers while he drove to his job, but ever since he’d turned on the radio, the local news had had him distracted.
He turned the radio up as he cruised down an arterial toward his destination. “Local phone services have been overwhelmed with more than fifteen-hundred missing persons reports in the last twelve hours. New information suggests the phenomenon is global, with several countries requesting aid from the United Nations. We may have initial global estimates by morning.” He muted the radio and tried, for the umpteenth time, to ring Harry.
Again, he got a message from the operator that all lines were busy. Shite.
From what he’d learned so far, the humans had grounded air traffic and were asking people not to drive or operate machinery. Two planes had crashed and there had been countless auto collisions—the collateral death toll from the disappearances was rising.
Duncan pulled over at the end of the road between street lamps where trees and bushes would conceal his car. The area didn’t appear inhabited, evergreens and ground cover surrounded both sides of the asphalt. He’d passed the last house almost a mile back. Ahead, the road turned to unpaved dirt. From the amount of overgrown foliage to either side, the lane wasn’t used to seeing much traffic. Supposedly, his targets lived at the end of that lane. He shut off the engine, tucking the key into the pocket of his Mackintosh. While he understood Leo’s expectations, he needed confirmation on what the Watchers wanted.
“All right, then. What are we doing tonight, kill and kidnap, or search and rescue?”
Despite the vehicle being off, the radio clicked on, playing Alanis Morissette’s Guardian.
He rolled his eyes. “Right.” Search and rescue it was. He picked up his iPod, left the car, and headed down a dirt road overgrown with vegetation. The brisk night air settled right under his skin. This job and the things happening in the world—they had him spooked.
Someone had been using the lane, but they hadn’t been doing so for long. Deep grooves lined the muddy ground. Broken branches hung from the bushes to either side. While he walked he put in one ear bud. “You know, I have no idea how to go about this. Can you at least give me a description of who’s in the house?”
His iPod came to life, playing “Mr. Cellophane” from Chicago. He pulled a face. What the hell? He didn’t have any bloody show tunes on his device. “You lot are getting a bit tricky, in’nit?” As he continued on, he tried to glean some information from the lyrics. The song was about a man no one paid attention to which didn’t give him any clue as to what the women might look like . . . unless they happened to be mannish or see-through. “Lot of help you are.”
A sign came into view. A white-washed plank nailed into a moss-covered two-by-four. Someone had written Haven House—All Lost Souls Welcome in black paint that had faded from years of neglect. He stepped past the sign and the music cut off mid-note. He still had a full battery. “Guess that’s all you’ve got to say, huh?”
The house came into view. An old monstrosity of Victorian revival. The two-story estate reminded him of something out of a Vincent Price movie. He stared at it, half expecting a spectral image to peer out of one of the darkened windows, except as he got closer, he noticed all the windows had been boarded up on the inside. Pasquino must have done that to keep his bolt-hole sunlight free. Damn, he wouldn’t be able to sneak a peek to see who the hell he was dealing with.
Getting in wouldn’t be easy. The green haze of a door shield protected the entrances, indicating at least one of those in residence was human. “Are all three of them in there?”
His iPod remained silent.
“Anything? Come on, you expect me to knock on the bloody door?”
Nothing. Weird. Usually they’d at least play something, just enough to tell him to sod off. This total silence . . . he didn’t like it.
The place had seen better days. The yard hadn’t been cared for and the house needed repair, but a little red Jaguar sat in the front drive and light trickled through a few of the boards blocking the windows on the first floor of the house. Someone was here.
He swallowed. He had no idea who might be in that house. Hell, he didn’t even have clear instructions on what the Watchers wanted. He wasn’t to harm the occupants, that had been clear enough, but then what? Did he give them a warning and walk away? Hide them? Bring them home like he had with Harry?
Whatever he did, he needed to get back to Harry quick. The lad had a habit of finding trouble when left on his own too long and that was when the world wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket.
“What about Crowley? Do I need to worry about him?” At this point he didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. He hated that Crowley had a part in this. The bastard was a damn good mesmerist. All he needed was a second of eye contact and he crawled right into a mind. Made his victims do things. Forget things. Remember stuff that never happened.
He strode across the yard to the convertible. The inside was tidy. A romance novel sat on the passenger’s seat and a can of coke had been left in the cup holder.
“Right, then. Unless you lot have a better idea, I’m knocking.” He stalled a few more seconds, hoping for some kind of information, but got nothing. Maybe he’d take a look around the back of the house before he knocked. Hopefully, those windows weren’t boarded up and he could at least discover if friends or foes resided inside.
Something was wrong with this whole scenario.
Chapter 4
Almost thirty minutes had passed and she’d heard nothing. What if Kat couldn’t heal Lilith? What if—?
“No.” Lilith would be fine. She was the only person in the world who cared about her, the goddess wouldn’t be so cruel as to take her away.
Trina flopped back on the loveseat in Haven House’s living room and stared at the statue of Gaia, which sat cross-legged, her arms wrapped around her pregnant belly which held the Earth, sitting on the mantle. Perched atop lace trim doilies, surrounded by an assortment of candles and little bowls filled with offerings, Gaia was the main focal point in the room and while the statue always wore a faint smile, she was certain the real Earth Mother was frowning tonight—whether in concern or disapproval, she couldn’t discern.
She turned her attention to the television. The anchor adjusted the mic pinned to her bright red jacket. “Two-hundred forty more people have been reported missing from the greater Seattle area since our last update, though authorities estimate that number is low as both land line phone services as well as cell phone services are still overwhelmed. Cell service companies are advising their customers to use text or email. If you have any information pertaining to the disappearances, please text the number below, email, or visit us on Facebook.”
What was happening out there was terrifying. It reminded her of that bible story. They’d made television shows about it, too. What was it?
She looked up at Gaia again as if she might have the answer, but Gaia had nothing to say. “The Darkness is because of me, isn’t it?” She didn’t want that to be true, but she knew it was. She drew in a shaky breath.
Somehow, she needed to discover what was wrong with her and how . . . or why, she’d infected Lilith.
“Should I call? I don’t want to interrupt if Kat’s still trying to heal her.”
James’ cat, George, hung across the back of the armchair. He lifted his head long enough to hiss. She must be disturbing his sleep.
She stuck her tongue out at the orange-striped feline, picked up her phone and texted Lilith: Are you feeling better? Did you find out what happened? Have you seen the news? I’m freaking out. I don’t know if I should stay or leave.
On the television, the camera shifted to a male anchor. “In other news, Dr. Edwin Moss has reported that he’s found a cure for the infected soldiers currently quarantined in the Revelations Industries Lab. We’ll do our best to keep families updated on the progress of this story.”
Trina’s phone buzzed. Please stay. I need you to be right where you are. I’m fine. Didn’t even need Kat. My skin went back to normal on its own.
Yeah, as soon as James drove away from the house, probably. Hey, wait a minute! She typed: Bitch!
Lilith must have already been typing her excuse for not calling right away and letting her stew for the last thirty minutes. Got side-tracked with the news. Just wanted to see if I could get some answers before I called. I’m sorry!
Trina snorted. She better be after leaving her here worrying.
Her phone buzzed again. The coven’s been studying the disappearances. They’re certain it’s the Rapture.
The Rapture. That’s what she’d been thinking of—where people were brought straight to Heaven, bodies and all.
Her phone buzzed. Brenda had a vision, she says the End Times are starting because the humans have Crowley, but she can’t get a look directly at Crowley or where he’s at.
Brenda’s visions were never wrong. Why would Armageddon start just because humans had Crowley? True, daemon kind had done their best to remain out of human consciousness for the last . . . well, forever. But Armageddon? Seemed an overkill response.
She closed her eyes. What the hell was Crowley up to? What did he hope to gain from all this? As a mesmerist . . . he probably had those humans eating out of the palm of his hand, but why? Why now?
At least things couldn’t get worse. But maybe she could make things right by getting Crowley away from the humans.
She pressed her hands against her eyes. “Come on, Lopez, think. Next steps. Where do you go from here?”
Sitting around doing nothing while the end of the world approached was not her style, but what could she do? She fingered the moonstone choker locked around her throat. Rowena, the late high priestess of the Grigori coven, had charmed it years ago to dampen the wearer’s Magic. Well, specifically, to dampen her Magic. She’d been forced to wear it when she was younger because Rowena hadn’t trusted her or her Magic. For a while it had completely inhibited her abilities, but she’d broken it, and after that it had only slowed her Magic to a somewhat manageable level.
She’d carried the damn thing around for years, with the hope that someday she could slip it around Rowena’s neck. But after what happened with Lilith tonight, she’d put it on willingly, hoping it would prevent any more accidents until she could figure out why her Magic had become hair-trigger responsive and twice as powerful. Why, when she conjured only enough water to put out a few small fires, she’d gotten a tidal wave, instead. Whatever had affected her Magic must be what caused the blackness to creep over Lilith’s skin when they touched. She couldn’t take any more chances, not with Lilith or anyone else.
At the same time, she was desperate to make up for her mistake, find Julius Crowley, destroy him, and end Armageddon. The conflicting urges had her in a state of near panic. She didn’t know where to start or what to tackle first. She didn’t know if the humans who took Crowley were his allies or enemies, where they’d taken him, or why.
Her phone rang. She thumbed over the green button and put it to her ear. Before she could even say hello, Lilith started talking. “I know what you’re doing. This isn’t your fault.”
“How’d you get through?” They just said all the lines were busy.
“Magic, dork.”
She jumped off the couch to pace. “Yeah, well, best friends aren’t supposed to lie.” Everything wasn’t okay. She strode through the living room, into the foyer and all the way to the kitchen before turning back. “I can’t trust my Magic anymore. I’ve had trouble for almost two years now, but it’s worse since coming back. The wave. The blackness. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Don’t say that. This isn’t you.”
The certainty in Lilith’s voice made her pause. “What do you mean?”
“It’s my fault.”
She laughed. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the high priestess of the Grigori coven, the Original, you—”
“Yes. That’s the problem.” Lilith sighed. “It’s not safe for me to talk. Look, go to Le Fey’s place, okay?”
Trina’s brows drew together. They’d nicknamed Rowena “Morgan Le Fey” after hearing their mothers refer to her as such when they were kids. Neither she nor Lilith had ever spoken that name aloud; they’d only called her that when they were chatting telepathically.
“Go look up the subject we’re talking about.”
What? “The Original?”
“Yes.”
Trina paused mid-step, replaying the conversation over in her head. Lilith was being very careful with her words. To anyone listening, she could be talking about anything. “Is someone listening?”
“Yes.”
What the hell? Was someone in the room with Lilith? Did they think her phone was bugged? It couldn’t be the Watchers because they’d hear her side of the conversation, too. “Can they hear me?”
“No.”
“Is it the coven?”
“No.”
“James?”
“No!” Lilith sputtered. “You’re so far off you’re not even in the correct galaxy.” She huffed. “Go do what I said.”
Trina wet her lips. “I’m a little scared.” It was a stupid thing to admit. She was used to being on her own. As long as she didn’t draw attention to herself, no one could see her, much less harm her. Still, she was scared. She’d always relied on her Magic for so much and right now she couldn’t trust it.
“I’ve, uh . . . sent for someone to, um, help you.”
We’re expecting company. Wonderful. She’d forgotten about that. “Who?”
“Just trust him, okay?”
Him? “No. Not until you tell me who he is.”
“I don’t exactly know. . . .”
“Lil-ith.”
“Now, I don’t want you to panic but I, uh . . . .” She sighed. “Well, remember the first time we watched Indiana Jones?”
Trina snorted. “How could I possibly forget? I was so enamored of Indy and Marion, I got all amped up about all of us girls in the coven finding our mates.” Nan had been adamant that neither witches nor daemons had mates.
“Well. . . .” She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome.”
Trina stopped pacing. Lilith didn’t send someone, she’d summoned Trina’s mate. “Goddess, no. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Lilith, this can’t end well.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. Lilith’s spell, whatever it was, couldn’t have worked. “I summoned my mate years ago. The man the Watchers sent. . . .” He’s dead now. My mate is dead.
Her mate hadn’t shown up as quickly as James had for Lilith. James had appeared on their doorstep after a few hours, almost twenty years ago. Two whole weeks after she’d performed the ceremony, Trevor had shown up. He’d walked right up to her, ignoring all the other women in the club. Goddess, he’d been handsome, so fucking charming. . . .
“You’re not thinking clearly. Oh, honey. Look, I’ve got some bad news, maybe you should sit down,” Lilith suggested.
Fuck that. “Just tell me.”
“Brenda can’t
see you in her visions. Not ever. We’re not sure why, but it stands to reason that if a seer can’t see you . . . well, I don’t think they heard your petition. I don’t think they ever heard any of your petitions. Whoever showed up . . . they didn’t send him.”
She was talking about the Watchers. Trina sat. The Watchers couldn’t see her? “Is that why you’re being so vague? You don’t want them to know what we’re doing?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. The Watchers saw and heard everything. Everywhere. “If the Watchers don’t know I exist . . . how the hell did you summon my mate?”
Someone knocked. Who the hell was at her door at three AM? “Someone’s here.”
Lilith scoffed. “You know who’s there. Do you want me to stay on the line?”
Her mate. Her mate was on the other side of that door.
No. That was impossible. “I, uh, I don’t want to do this.” Her belly did a little flip. “I mean, how do you know? If the Watchers can’t see me, how would they know who my mate is? You’re not making sense.”
“You’re going to have to trust me. I can’t tell you how I did it, not yet. But I don’t want you to be alone. Remember what you told me when I called you all freaked out about James?”
Trina rolled her eyes. “‘Enjoy him for a little while, keep his protection, and let him go.’”
“Somehow, I remember your advice being much brasher than that.” The wry tone to Lilith’s words made Trina smile. “You told me to do everything you would do. So now I’m giving that back, do everything you used to do.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Once upon a time, she’d been fearless and damn it, she wanted to be that person again. “I can’t.”
“Oh, honey. I did this because I want you happy. I know you’ve been hiding these last couple years and it has to stop.”
The compassion in Lilith’s voice nearly undid her. She’d almost called Lilith so many times over the last two years, but in the end, she could never find the words.
The wall rattled as someone knocked again.
The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Page 3
