“It means this building is either about to explode or implode,” I answered. “I’d like to know how fast I need to run.”
“Jesus,” she muttered, pulling the curtain closed on the window as if that was an effective defense against what was about to happen.
“Is there a window in the bathroom?” I asked, wasting no time in pulling her toward it.
If there wasn’t, we were going to have to go out the front door, but I’d rather not throw myself into the line of fire. Especially when I couldn’t see my enemy in front of me.
“Yeah,” Merry answered. “But I think there’s a bolt lock on it.”
I paused near the sink. Pulling at the metal railing that held the hand towels and face cloths, I ripped it off the wall.
“Not a problem,” I said and rushed into the bathroom.
“Watch yourself,” I said to Merry and then, wrapping a towel around my hand, I drove the metal railing through the window.
These types of fleabag motels were old, and even when they weren’t, they didn’t usually shell out much money for things like structural integrity. So, when the glass gave way like wet tissue paper around the railing, I wasn’t surprised.
Using my covered hand to clear the rest of the errant glass out of the windowsill, I ushered Merry out through it.
A low hum started in the background, more than likely a precursor to the effects of the spell this witch was cooking up in the parking lot.
Without much time to waste, I flung myself through the window, landing on my wrists and rolling over onto the pavement below.
“You okay?” Merry asked, but I could hardly hear her. In an instant, the low hum had transformed into a loud rumble. It started to shake the walls, shattering windows in all the adjacent bathrooms along the back wall.
“Peachy,” I said, standing up and wiping a trickle of blood off my palm.
“Did you open up your stitc-”
“Don’t!” I said, as the rumble got even louder.
We didn’t have much time left, and certainly not enough to run away from an exploding motel.
“What do we do now?” merry asked, looking at me with expectant and terrified eyes.
“Counterclockwise means implosion,” I answered. “So we grab our asses with both hands and hope for counterclockwi-”
While the words were tumbling frantically out of my mouth, the rumble began to crackle and pop.
Out of time.
I dove on top of Merry, knocking her to the ground and covering her body with my own.
I felt her heart beat like a jackhammer against my chest as she grabbed onto my shirt and pulled me closer.
Her eyes were shut tight, and her face was wrinkled with worry, waiting for the worst to come calling.
But it didn’t.
Instead of a loud boom, we heard an equally loud slurping sound.
Merry opened her eyes quickly, inhaling sharply.
“Counterclockwise?” she asked.
“Counterclockwise,” I answered.
“Thank God,” she muttered between gasps.
“If you say so,” I answered, still on top of her.
“You-you were going to sacrifice yourself for me,” she said, biting her lower lip and looking up at me.
“It’s not like that,” I answered, looking her up and down.
“Oh no?” she asked. “What’s it like then?”
“You almost got your ass killed, and you almost got me blown up,” I said, huffing and pushing off of her. “You’ve been reckless, and selfish, and a Goddamn liar.” I said, sitting upright and looking back at the ball of condensed mass that used to be the motel. Every beam, every ugly comforter, every person who had the misfortune of still being inside; it was all gone now. All that was left was that ball and a giant crater in the ground.
“What do you mean?” Merry asked, her voice shaky.
“I mean, you’re bad news,” I answered, looking straight ahead.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she answered, sitting up herself.
“What?” I asked.
“You can’t die?” Merry asked, looking over at me. “They told me you can’t die.”
“Who did?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.
A shimmer of light expanded in front of me. Where there had been nothing but a crater and a mass, now stood a dozen witches.
They had long hair, tattoos, and magic crackling off every inch of them.
And every single one of them wanted me dead.
13
Witches, as they were known in their current incarnation, were relatively new things. At least, when compared with me.
They were the new kids on the block in the supernatural scene, post-dating vampires, fey, werewolves, and obviously angels, demons, and the like.
Maybe, it was because of this ‘Johnny come lately’ thing, but I also found that the witches I came across had a lot to prove.
They weren’t the first users of this world’s magic; not even close. Shamans, voodoo priestesses, the mystics of the mists, even the tribes that would one day join up and form the modern witch movement had all been manipulating the planet’s energy for millennia before the more recent bunch reared their heads.
And it wasn’t like they were all bad. I had run across more than a few witches in my day who wanted nothing more than to live and let live. I’d even bedded a couple. Not that that seemed like a reasonable exit strategy here. But, the thing was, magic didn’t equal bad. Witch didn’t equal bad. Bad equaled bad. And, looking up at the coven formed in front of me right now, it was clear that I was in the presence of bad.
“Hello,” the witch at the front of the group — the white haired, thin woman I’d seen with that poor kid outside of the War Room — said to me, her eyes flickering with what looked like electricity.
“Hey there,” I answered, getting to my feet and planting myself in front of Merry. Damnit, she was right. I was protecting her. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance this is about those DVDs I never got around to returning, is there? Because, I was under the impression that store went out of business.”
The white haired witch narrowed her eyes at me. The magic around her still crackling, she extended her hand.
The ground just shy of my feet caught fire. I stumbled back a little as the flames grew higher.
Merry’s hand wrapped around my bicep and clutched me hard. But, we weren’t in any trouble. Witches hated fire, always had. They wouldn’t use it if they had any other choice, and the only thing that would leave them choice-less, in terms of the flames, would be if they wanted to use them to identify my mark.
The white haired witch blinked at me a few times. I didn’t move. They obviously knew who I was. It was the reason they were here in the first place, the reason they convinced Merry to con me the way she did. But, to what end? This mark was placed here by the Big Guy himself. It was a warning and a promise. Screw with me and you get screwed with harder.
If I’d have gotten caught in that implosion, this Judy Jetson looking bitch would have never walked out of here. And, if she’d have even so much as scorched the sole of my shoe, she’d have felt the burn in a much more real manner.
So what was the play here? Did she not care about dying? It wouldn’t be the first time I had run across some lunatic fanatic who placed hurting me above their own personal welfare.
The witches behind — all of them — began chanting in unison. Their voices layered together in a sweet song.
Only it wasn't a song. It was Latin; an incantation used to prepare a sacrificial offering.
The flame doubted, darkening the parking lot once more. Again, this didn’t make any sense. This bunch knew who I was now. Which meant that, not only did they know I knew Latin and could tell what was going on, but they had to be aware that I wasn’t the type of person who could be sacrificed anyway.
Which… which meant that I wasn’t the target.
“Run!” I said, looking back over my shoulder at Merry.
&
nbsp; No sooner had the words left my mouth that a force knocked me to the left. I flew into the air, hitting my shoulder hard on the pavement as I landed and slid a good few feet before I found myself magically frozen on the ground.
A witch in the back did it; a redhead with a face tattoo that looked like an anchor. I knew that because, looking up, I saw her flying through the air too. She, of course, went roughly seven times farther, landed roughly seven times harder, and probably shattered her shoulder as she stuck the dis-mount.
“Curse in action, people,” I muttered.
The other witches didn’t care though. They were obviously prepared for this. What redhead anchor face just did, that was a sacrifice; one she was not only willing, but prepared, to take.
“Run!” I yelled again, looking over at Merry.
My eyes, my lungs, and my lips were the only things that moved. The rest of me sat pinned under some invisible force.
Merry didn’t move either, and for a moment, I was afraid that the witches had cemented her stance too. This time, without even the sevenfold retribution to make them rethink their decision.
But she stumbled backward, breathing heavy.
She wasn’t frozen. She was just afraid.
“Do you really blame her though?” A familiar voice said from above me.
Moving my eyes as far right as I could, seeing as how my head was practically encased in concrete, I saw my brother Abel standing above me, shaking his head as he surveyed what was going on.
“Abe, you have to stop this,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t know what this coven is up to, but they’re going to murder that girl if we don’t stop them.”
“You’re very preoccupied with stopping human death these days, brother,” he answered without turning to me. “I have to admit, I find it a little curious, given the way our final interaction ended up.”
“Abe, please,” I said, ignoring the barb and subsequent stab of pain it brought about in me. Even now, even after all these years, no one could hurt me like him. “You have to do something.”
“Me?” he asked, arching his brow and finally looking at me. “What would you have me do? At best I’m a ghost. At worst, a figment of your broken mind and rather limited imagination.” He looked back up at Merry and the witches as they moved in tandem toward her, like lethal lemmings ready to overtake their prey. “I’m afraid that, either way, I haven’t the power to put an end to this.”
“She’s going to die because of me,” I answered, blinking hard. “It’s my fault.”
“Are these witches under your employ, brother? If so, I find your reaction even more curious than I had before.”
“They’re after me,” I answered. “This woman is collateral damage in their hunt for me.”
“Forgive me, brother,” Abel said, looking down at me. “But the hunt seems to be over. You look to be two-thirds of the way to being stuffed and mounted over a fireplace. So, if she’s damage, it seems to be of the direct kind.”
“Abe, please!” I said, taking a deep breath. “I can’t have her blood on my hands, okay! Out of all people, you should know that I have more than enough of that to last a lifetime.” I swallowed hard. “Even my lifetime.”
The Latin came louder and more rapidly now. Merry had been surrounded, encircled by witches, with the white haired woman beside her in the center.
She looked over at me, shaking and obviously regretting her decision. In the back of my mind, I wondered what she had been given in order to do this. She told me that it wasn’t money, but certainly, whatever it was would prove to be lacking now.
“I’m afraid I cannot help you brother,” Abel said. “As I told you, I haven’t the power to stop this.” He smiled at me, a smile I hadn’t seen outside my dreams since the world was in its infancy. “But certainly, you know someone who can.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking at Abel as though he was really here and not some specter of a person I used to know.
“Who are you talking…?”
“A favor,” he said, glancing from me to Merry and back again. “You are owed a favor, are you not?”
My eyes went wide. He wasn’t talking about that. He couldn’t be talking about that. Could he?
“No,” I said flatly.
“As you wish,” Abel answered, and turned back to Merry, watching the show.
The Latin hung in the air like a curtain, threatening to smother Merry until she was nothing.
“She’ll die,” I said, warning Abel as a last ditch effort.
“She will,” he answered calmly. “But we both know that death is not the end for some. Perhaps, your woman will be among them.”
“Damnit Abe! We can’t just-”
“Then do not, brother,” he interrupted me. “Do not just allow it to happen. You are owed a favor. Whether you wish to employ it or not, it is a favor that has the power to save this woman.” He looked me up and down. “A power I see you are sorely lacking at the moment.”
“Fine,” I answered after a beat or two of silence. “I’ll do it.”
I set my jaw and closed my eyes. This favor had been hundreds of years in the making, and given the nature of it, I wanted to save it for something much more worthy than a coven of pissed off witches. But, Abel was right. She was going to die, and though a huge part of me wanted to kill her myself, I wasn’t going to let Merry’s death be on me.
“I invoke thee,” I said lowly. “Come,” I added, picturing him in my mind’s eye. “I invoke thee. Come.”
An instant later, the sky was filled with the sound of a trumpet blaring, his trumpet.
A flash of light, searing and blinding, illuminated the parking lot.
When it had subsided, I began to feel myself again. The weight was gone from me, and I could stand.
Abel was gone, vanished the way he did.
The witches were on the move, running away with their collective tail between their legs. And Merry was on her knees, looking up at the figure that had appeared in the light with wide and terrified eyes.
The figure, a winged angel with long blonde hair and hard blue eyes stared down at her with a terse look on his face.
“My God,” she muttered, unblinking.
“Not quite,” I said, steadying myself and walking toward the pair. “But, I’m sure he knows what the Big Guy is up to.” I smirked at him. “Don’t you, Gabriel?”
Gabriel turned to me, his wings stretching out wide and long at his sides.
“Is this what it is down to, Son of Adam? You call on me to protect you from witches, like some weak child?”
His voice boomed all serious and whatnot.
Angels were such drama queens.
“You were expecting an invitation to my bachelor party?” I asked, looking down at Merry to make sure she was okay.
“This marks the end of our arrangement,” Gabriel said, glaring from me to Merry, with little interest. “However foolishly spent, you have your favor. Do not call on me again. Is that understood, Son of Adam?”
“Crystal,” I said.
Gabriel frowned hard, looking at us disgustedly. “You reek of death,” he said, looking at Merry. “You both do.”
“Not me,” I answered, remembering the curse. “You must be losing your game, Wings. Because it’s never me.”
“Whatever you say,” Gabriel answered. “Remember my warning. Call on me again, and there will be consequences.”
Another flash of light, and with it, Gabriel was gone.
“Was that an angel?” Merry asked, looking up at me and shaking. “Like, an actual angel?”
“Of course not,” I answered. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an archangel, and he’s got a really bad attitude.”
“An ar-an arch-?”
“Luckily for the both of us, he owed me a favor,” I said, pulling Merry from her knees.
“How?” she asked. “What on earth could you have possibly done for someone like that?”
“Gabriel?” I asked. “I introd
uced him to his wife. Now, come on. We need to get going.”
14
Thankfully, my convertible had been far enough away that it wasn’t sucked up in the motel implosion.
Good thing too. I bought that car new in 1974, and I had done my best to keep it cherry ever since.
If cherry was even a word people still used to describe cars… or anything for that matter.
“Get in,” I said, looking at Merry and wasting no time in turning the engine over.
As always, it purred like a kitten. Merry grappled at the door for a second and then nervously slunk inside.
The instant her ass touched my leather upholstery, I squealed out of the parking lot. She slammed the door, yelping a little as she realized we were already in motion.
“Okay,” I said, taking a hard left onto the interstate and cutting my eyes over at her.
“Okay what?” she asked, and I could tell that she was trying (and mostly failing) to keep the fear out of her voice.
“Spill,” I answered. “You tell me everything; who you really are, the deal you made with those witches, and how you can see my mark.” I shook my head. “Do that, and I’ll consider not throwing you out alongside the road.”
“Me?” she looked over incredulously. “I’m not the one who needs to explain herself.” She leaned over the seat toward me. “I just met a Goddamn guardian angel. Like, from the Bible.”
“He’s an archangel,” I answered. “Guardians are a completely different ilk. And, he’s not your concern. You lied to me, and in doing so, almost got yourself killed.”
“But not you,” she answered, narrowing her eyes. “What did those witches mean when they said you couldn’t die?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” I answered. “I’m immortal.”
“No, you’re not,” she scoffed, sitting back against the seat. “I saw you in the hospital. You’d have bled out just like everybody else if they hadn’t stitched you up.”
“I’d have bled out, but that would have been the extent of it,” I said, veering off the next exit and taking a right on the main highway. “I get hurt, but I don’t die. Doesn’t mean I don’t bleed. Doesn’t mean I heal quickly or anything.”
Mark of Cain (Immortal Mercenary Book 1) Page 9
