Omens (The Dark in You Book 6)

by Suzanne Wright

  Only Knox and the sentinels dished out physical punishments. No one else had that right. To take such a liberty came close to challenging Knox’s authority—another thing that wouldn’t be tolerated.

  “I locked the asshole in the Chamber so you can deal with him at your leisure,” said Keenan, referring to the basement beneath Knox’s prison filled with dozens of torturous implements.

  People who wronged Knox—whether they be members of their lair or outsiders—were taken there to endure punishment. Depending on the severity of the felony, some were then released; others were incarcerated.

  “Good,” said Knox. “This is the second time he’s crossed a line. I warned him that he’d lose his position on the Force if he abused his authority again. Replace him.”

  “It’ll be done.” Keenan twisted his mouth. “I wanted to pick your brain about something. How long does a Lazarus demon take to fully regenerate?”

  Knox pursed his lips. “Three or four days, depending on how powerful they are.” He narrowed his eyes. “You think Enoch might make a reappearance?”

  “Maybe. He wasn’t ready to accept that his daughter’s gone. In doing whatever they did, Jolene and Khloé forced him to accept it.”

  “And you’re worried for Khloé.”

  “She doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. Nor does she have an anchor who watches out for her well enough.”

  “Khloé won’t accept you acting as a bodyguard, Keenan, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

  “Tanner guarded Devon when she had people looking to kidnap her.”

  “That was different. Jolene’s lair was up against outsiders, so our lairs banded together to deal with it; we were presenting a united front to others. This problem exists within Jolene’s lair. She has to deal with this herself. If she doesn’t, she’ll look weak to her lair members and then someone might challenge her for her position.”

  Keenan snorted. “I can’t see anyone being stupid enough to try to steal Jolene’s position from her.”

  “Perhaps not. But Harper already tried to convince Jolene to involve us; she refused. She did, however, promise to keep us in the loop and to ask for aid if she felt she truly needed it. Of course, Harper and I will quietly do what we can to locate Enoch, much as Jolene often quietly tries to contribute to our lair issues. But that’s all we can do. Anyway, you could be wrong. Enoch might not have any intention of seeking revenge on them.”

  Keenan wished he could agree with that, but his gut told him different. Or maybe his concern for Khloé clouded his judgement—he couldn’t be sure. “What would it take to permanently kill a Lazarus demon?”

  “The flames of hell could destroy them. Nothing is impervious to them.”

  Keenan had witnessed their destructive nature for himself. The rumors that Knox possessed the exceedingly rare ability to conjure them was in fact true, which only very few people knew. The Prime kept a lot of secrets, including the dark truth of just what type of demon he was.

  “But, unlike you, Khloé can’t call on the flames,” said Keenan. “What can she do to kill him?”

  Idly tapping his pen on the papers in front of him, Knox replied, “Steel forged in the pit of hell is fatal to any demon. If she can get her hands on a blade made of such steel, she could certainly kill Enoch. But weapons like that aren’t easy to come by.”

  “Where would she find one?”

  “The black market would be her best bet,” Larkin cut in. “You can get pretty much anything there. Leave it with me. If there’s such a blade for sale, I’ll find one.”

  Keenan gave her a nod of thanks, confident that Larkin would come through for him. He pushed out of his chair. “I’ll let Khloé know about the blade. She’ll no doubt pass the info on to Jolene.”

  “All right. But it probably won’t be anything Jolene hasn’t already learned for herself—she has many, many sources.”

  Keenan turned and headed for the door just as Knox’s office phone began to ring.

  “Yes?” Knox answered. “Gavril, it’s a surprise to hear from you.”

  Keenan halted in his tracks. Another US Prime, Gavril was a complete prick who Knox had butted heads with more than once. He was also Thea’s Prime.

  Keenan slowly turned just as Knox pressed a button that put the call on speakerphone.

  “It has been many years since we last spoke,” said Gavril. “It’s regrettable that our alliance crumbled the way it did.”

  Knox leaned back in his chair. “Is it?”

  Gavril chuckled. “I suppose you’d think not.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “I’m sure you remember Thea Whitman well enough.”

  Knox’s eyes flicked to Keenan. “I remember.”

  “She killed her ex-mate last night.”

  Keenan stilled. The fuck?

  “Killed her ex-mate?” echoed Knox.

  “Killed him and then fled with their son. I have my demons tracking her, of course. It won’t be easy, since she can use glamor to change the appearance of herself and others, but she can’t evade us for long.”

  Keenan exchanged a look with Levi. Well, shit.

  “It struck me that if she were to seek help or sanctuary from anyone, it would be you, given that you have known her since childhood,” said Gavril. “If not you, she’ll certainly contact your sentinel, Ripley—they were reasonably close at one time, I believe. As incubi are able to see through glamor, he’ll see through her disguise and know if she’s nearby. If he sees or hears anything from her, I would appreciate it if you contacted me. She needs to be brought back to the lair to face punishment for what she’s done. And we don’t want anything happening to her son.”

  “I’ll tell Keenan to inform me if she attempts to reach out to him.”

  Keenan noted that Knox hadn’t agreed to then pass on such information to Gavril.

  “Your aid is appreciated.” Gavril said his goodbyes and rang off.

  “So, Thea killed her ex to avenge what he’d done to her.” Levi looked at Keenan. “Think the reason she’s been trying to contact you lately is that she’d hoped to ask you to do it for her?”

  “No idea,” replied Keenan. But if so, he’d have turned down said request. He wasn’t a hitman for hire.

  “You didn’t tell Gavril she’s been in touch with you,” Larkin said to Knox.

  “I wouldn’t do him even a hint of a favor—he’s never cooperated with me in the past.” Knox slid his gaze to Keenan. “When I conveyed your message to Thea yesterday, she wasn’t pleased, to say the least. She seemed desperate to speak with you, but she wouldn’t tell me why.”

  “Do you think she’ll contact you?” Larkin asked Keenan.

  He considered it for a moment. “Now that she’s on the run, no. She’ll be well-aware that Gavril will expect her to come to us. She’ll want to stay off his radar, and that means not doing what he would expect of her. Her best bet would be to leave the country. If she used glamor, she could wear different faces as she moved from city to city on her way out of the US.”

  Larkin gave a slow nod. “I feel sorry for her kid. His world has been turned upside down. Hopefully she manages to keep him safe—the demon world is brutal toward strays.”

  Yeah, Keenan knew that from personal experience.

  *

  “Back off, pooch, I’m trying to clean up here.” Devon shoved Tanner hard, making him plop onto the sofa. “Sit. Stay. Good dog.”

  The hellhound grinned. “Ooh, you’ll pay for that, kitten.”

  “Sounds promising. Now just watch TV and look pretty.”

  Khloé snickered and went back to adding new pieces of jewelry to the glass display case beneath her desk.

  Tanner always turned up at Urban Ink near closing time, ready to take both Harper and Devon home. While the other females tidied their stations, Khloé took responsibility for the reception area. It was the first thing people saw when they walked in—if it was messy and dirty, that would reflect on the studio its
elf.

  She’d already swept the floor, cleaned the coffee table, and tidied the portfolios. She didn’t need to neaten her desk. Every object—the computer, the phone, the appointment book, the pen holder, the cashier’s till, and the stapler—had its own proper place, so the surface was always perfectly organized … until people started moving her shit. She hated that.

  Khloé locked the jewelry case and stood. Her nose wrinkled. The scents of disinfectant and citrus cleaner laced the air, almost completely drowning out the scents of ink and paint.

  She turned to Raini, who was almost done tidying her station. All the tattoo stations featured a recliner, checkered glass partitions, a large wall mirror, and framed licenses. Each of the women had also tacked photographs and sketches of tattoos near their mirror.

  “Are you looking forward to your birthday?” Khloé asked the succubus.

  “I’ll be spending it on Harper and Knox’s yacht with all my girls there, what’s not to like?” replied Raini, wiping down the black leather recliner.

  The weekend-long booze cruise had been Khloé’s idea. They didn’t plan to spend the entire time plastered, especially since they’d have Asher with them. They’d indulge in watersports, and they’d make use of the yacht’s pool, cinema room, and stuff. But they’d certainly spend their evenings tossing back some shots.

  “Speaking of my birthday, we haven’t yet gone on our trip to the mall to buy new clothes for the weekend,” added Raini.

  “How about Wednesday after work?” suggested Devon, polishing a piece of metal art that adorned the white wall. There were several such pieces, including flames, Chinese dragons, a wolf head, and a guitar—all of which were also enlarged copies of tattoos. They added to the studio’s artsy/biker/rock theme.

  “Works for me,” said Khloé. “Harper, can we count you in?”

  “I’d give it a miss, but you’ll only whine like babies,” grumbled the sphinx, who preferred online shopping. She used the remote control to switch off the TV. “Almost done here. Just got to grab something from my office.” She set the remote control on the coffee table and then headed to the rear of the studio.

  Done for the day, Khloé picked up her purse. “You ready to go, Raini?” They often carpooled to work, since they lived so close to one another.

  “More than ready,” replied Raini.

  Both of them crossed to the coat rack near the vending machine and grabbed their jackets. Khloé had just finished slipping hers on when the front door opened and none other than Keenan stepped inside.

  His eyes immediately found her. “Going somewhere?”

  “Slowly insane.”

  He grunted. “That I can agree with.” He folded his arms. “I have some news you need to hear.”

  She listened as he relayed what Knox had told him. Her nose wrinkled. “A steel blade forged in the pit of hell? The best hope I have of killing Enoch is to stab him with one of those?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, not many such blades exist.”

  Khloé blew out a breath. “Well that sucks balls.”

  “Larkin is currently searching the black market to see if any are for sale. With any luck, there’ll be at least one.”

  Khloé’s relatives were also highly familiar with the black market, so she’d pass on the information to Jolene and have the imps search for one, too. Although he hadn’t given Khloé any info that her grandmother wouldn’t have unearthed for herself at some point, she nonetheless said, “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate you looking into it.”

  He inclined his head. “Anything to keep Harper’s panic level to a minimum; she’s worried about you.”

  Khloé almost laughed at the “don’t read anything into it” message. Oh, she wasn’t. He considered her under his protection, sure, but he also considered Raini and Devon under his protection—all because they were important to one of his Primes. The only people who held any importance to Keenan were the other sentinels, Knox, Harper, and Asher.

  Khloé wondered if he’d told any of them about their wager. Probably not.

  She gave him a quick head-to-toe scan. He wasn’t sweating, tremoring, or showing any other signs of withdrawal. He would soon, though. It was inevitable.

  “I gotta get home. Farewell, muchachos,” Khloé loudly called out as she and Raini breezed out of the studio.

  She dropped Raini off at her house and then drove straight home. She’d no sooner walked through the door than her parents showed up, wanting to check on her after the Enoch business. It was no surprise. She’d called Penelope and Richie early that morning to tell them what had happened, not wanting them to hear about it via the lair’s grapevine.

  While Penelope, Richie, and his mate, Meredith, settled themselves on the cream upholstered sofa, Khloé made coffees. Penelope and Meredith luckily got along like a house on fire. But then, Richie’s mate was easy to like. The stunning redhead also seemed to take it in her stride that Richie had several kids with numerous women.

  Maybe Penelope might have felt a twinge of jealousy if she and Richie had loved each other once upon a time, but they’d had nothing more than a shallow fling that had resulted in a multiple pregnancy that shocked the hell out of them both.

  It was still a little weird for Khloé to see him all loved-up. Until Meredith, Richie hadn’t stayed with one woman for more than a few years. Khloé had begun to wonder if he’d ever take a mate. It was good to see him happy and settled. She just wished her mother would find that same happiness.

  Despite her addiction, Penelope was still a giving and sensitive person who supported, encouraged, and loved her children. But she wasn’t so caring toward herself—she had a self-destructive streak that had been born a decade ago, after she gave birth to a stillborn baby girl. It had broken something in Penelope.

  Khloé didn’t judge her mother for looking to numb her pain in some way. But she did judge that her mother insisted on bringing asshole-men into her life—fellow addicts who treated her like shit, spent every cent of her money, and liked to smack her around.

  Penelope had occasionally tried overcoming her addiction, but she’d always veered off the path at some point. And the years of denials, lies, broken promises, and useless interventions had taken a toll on their mother-daughter relationship.

  Joining her visitors in the living area a few minutes later, Khloé set a tray on her trunk-slash-coffee table. They descended on it, claiming cups and a cookie or two. She sank into her overstuffed armchair and turned her gaze to the partially open window as she sipped at her coffee. Sounds filtered through it—car engines purring, pedestrians murmuring, wind chimes jingling.

  “Enoch always seemed like a normal enough guy to me,” said Meredith, adjusting the throw pillow behind her. “A little odd and withdrawn, maybe. I never would have imagined he’d … It’s just horrible to even think of those children’s bodies being used like puppets.”

  Penelope nodded. “Losing a child is a pain like no other,” she said, her voice cracking, her sad eyes arrowed on the wall-mounted TV, unseeing—she was stuck in the past. “You’d do anything to hold them again. Anything to bring them back. But reanimate their corpse? No. That’s not bringing them back to life. There’s no life in them.”

  Thanks to the layers of makeup and her attempt at contouring, Penelope’s face didn’t look as bloated as usual, the dark smudges under her eyes were hidden, and the red blush-like patches on her cheeks were covered. She always cleaned up before leaving her house, as if she could somehow fool people—particularly Khloé and Ciaran—into thinking she had her shit together and that her alcoholism wasn’t really affecting her body.

  “Enoch truly didn’t view them as ‘dead,’” said Khloé. “Or he just didn’t want to—one or the other.”

  “Heidi heard what happened,” Richie told Khloé, referring to her youngest half-sibling. “Molly was her friend. She misses her. This shit has brought back all the grief and pain she’d worked through. I’d like to kick Enoch’s ass for that alone.
I’d also happily rip out his guts for hitting you with that toxic gas.”

  She knew her father wasn’t kidding. Though Richie was often described as a “fixer,” he was no innocent. When he wasn’t producing and selling counterfeit paintings, he was doing “odd jobs” for Jolene—most of which involved violence of some kind. Since he could break a person’s bones with the will of his mind alone, he was good at it.

  “Jolene told me you intend to accompany her when she visits Enoch’s relatives,” Richie went on. “You’re strong, Khloé, but you don’t have Force-training.”

  Khloé lifted her mug toward her mouth. Steam fanned her face, filling her senses with the scent of fresh coffee. “But I can cut through forcefields—something none of the others can do. Enoch’s likely to raise one to protect himself if any of us get near him.”

  “True enough,” Richie grumbled.

  Penelope bit her lip. “I don’t like it, Khloé.”

  “Neither do I,” said Meredith. “But I can’t blame you for wanting to help track him. Just be careful. And maybe take your brother with you—he’s officially a member of the Force now, and he can teleport all of you out of danger in a blink.”

  “It’s thanks to him that we know what cemeteries the other bodies were taken from.” Richie placed his mug on the glass coaster on her coffee table. “According to Jolene, Orrin and some of the Force will return the bodies tonight.”

  Khloé gave a curt nod. “Good. I’m guessing Molly’s been returned to her grave.”

  “She has,” Richie confirmed. “Jolene has people watching it, just in case Enoch turns up. It would be best for him if he disappears.”

  “But he hasn’t been showing good judgement lately, so we can’t be sure what he’ll do,” said Khloé, paraphrasing the point that Keenan had earlier made.

  Her father’s expression was grave. “That’s what worries me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With Ciaran and Orrin hot on her heels, Khloé followed Jolene into the bakery the next day. Enoch’s sister apparently owned and lived above the shop, which was located in San Antonio. As they couldn’t simply appear in the middle of the bakery, Ciaran had teleported them to a local alleyway.