“I hope you’re not expecting a warm welcome when you get back,” she muttered.
“Hot and sweaty, actually. Can’t wait.” A seductive purr rumbled across the cellular waves.
Eve’s mood changed from hot and irritable to hot and bothered. “Better be nice to me, then.”
“I’ll be very nice to you, angel. You’ve never had any complaints. Now about the dog incident . . . I admit, that bothers me. What is Raguel doing about it?”
“Nothing that I can see. He told me to let him handle it.”
“There must be a reason why he’s not pressing the issue.”
“Apathy?”
“I know you don’t trust him, so trust me. He’s got it covered.”
Eve’s free hand went to her hip. “You aren’t here, Alec. He didn’t even blink when Izzie killed that poor dog.”
“As an archangel, he’s closer to God. I’m guessing the connection is similar to trying to watch television and carry on a conversation at the same time. He’s distracted, not careless.”
“So you say.”
“When I’m called to stand before Jehovah, I lose all sense of everything—time, feelings, reality. It’s very . . . serene. I can’t imagine how the archangels make it through their days with that connection open all the time.”
“Regardless, I’m watching my own back.” She looked around, making sure she was still alone. “I can’t help but think that it’s a little too convenient that Izzie acted when she did.”
“I know you can’t stay out of trouble, but can you please keep yourself safe?”
“Ha. So says the man with a nak*d demon in his shower.”
The door opened behind her. Eve faced it. Montevista gestured her back with a jerk of his chin.
“I’m being summoned,” she said, as she moved toward the house.
“Phone on you at all times. Got it?”
“Hey, I tried to call you earlier and you didn’t answer.”
“Won’t happen again.” Alec’s voice softened and filled with warmth. “I am here for you, angel, even though I’m not there.”
“I know.”
“Try and get some sleep. It’ll help you with the side effects of the transition.”
“Will do.” She passed Montevista, who held the door open for her, and entered the house. “Stay safe.”
“Back at ya.”
Gadara leaned elegantly against the old kitchen countertop, his appearance flawless despite the late hour. She held out the phone to him.
He traversed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His fingers wrapped around hers, cooling her temperature with a single touch.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his dark eyes filled with an age’s worth of knowledge. “Your concern on my behalf pleases me greatly.”
Although it was contrary to her desire to get her old life back, Eve appreciated the archangel’s praise. “You’re welcome.”
They shared a brief smile. Gadara took the phone and resumed his conversation with Alec. Eve stepped into the kitchen for a bottle of water before she headed back to the girls’ side of the duplex.
“Stick close tomorrow,” Richens said, watching her from his position by the sink.
“Okay.” The whole covert association thing was weird to Eve, but she’d play along at least until she figured out what was going on.
Edwards grunted. “And try not to be all over the place.”
“I hope I’m not the only one of us who would have acted first and asked questions later,” she shot back. “With that backpack and shawl over his head, Molenaar didn’t look human. And he was heading toward Gadara.”
“I am touched,” Gadara called out.
“Stop eavesdropping.” She glared at him, peeved to find him grinning. It made him look boyish and almost . . . cute. And Gadara wasn’t cute. He was ambitious and blessed with celestial gifts she could only wonder at. He was also on a power trip where Alec was concerned, and she bore the brunt of his machinations. Eve didn’t want to like him. She certainly didn’t want to like his adorable grin.
“I think your superpowers are messed up,” Edwards muttered.
Eve grabbed a water bottle from the stash on the counter and headed out. “See you guys in a few hours.”
Leaving the house with Sydney in tow, Eve headed back to the girls’ side. They rounded the corner and found Izzie waiting in the driveway at the front of the duplex. Without her usual cosmetics, the blonde looked startlingly young and delicate. Her skin was as pale as cream, her features finely wrought. She was as short of stature as Eve, but much less curvy. It looked good on her, as did her rainbow-striped knee-highs and black baby-doll pajamas. Izzie had the appearance of a pixie with a Goth edge.
Eve eyed her warily. Her inner warning bells went off whenever Izzie was near.
“Hello.” Izzie straightened from her leaning position against the front of the Suburban.
“What are you doing out here, Seiler?” Sydney asked.
“Waiting for Hollis.”
Both of Eve’s brows rose. Two overtures in one day? After three weeks of cold shoulders? “Did you need something?”
“Can we talk?”
“I’m listening.”
They continued forward. Sydney deliberately fell behind.
“He asked me, too, you should know,” Izzie said.
“Who asked you what?”
“Richens.”
Eve’s steps faltered, then she realized she wasn’t all that surprised. “Really.”
“He did not tell you?” Izzie sighed dramatically. “He said I was the only female in our class worthy of asking.”
Ignoring the dig, Eve asked, “Do you know what he’s thinking?”
Izzie shook her head. “I do not care. There is something wrong with him.”
There was something wrong with all of them as far as Eve was concerned. And the fate of the world rested, in part, in their hands. How scary was that? “Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought you would wish to know.”
“You haven’t told me much of anything yet.”
The blonde sighed. “Also, I thought perhaps we should join forces, too.”
“We? As in you and me?”
“Yes.” The word was said with exasperation, as if Eve was slow to catch on. “Richens has a purpose for why he wants his own group. If we could understand, it would be of use to us.”
“ ‘We’ as in me, right,” Eve murmured wryly, “since you turned him down?”
Izzie smiled, but it didn’t reach her blue eyes. “Right.”
“If you want to know what he’s up to, why didn’t you play along and find out?”
“Patience is difficult for me.” Izzie glanced aside with a slight smile, her short pigtails swaying in the damp evening air.
Eve wished she’d been a fan of the reality show Survivor. She might have picked up some tips about how to backstab, a skill she suspected her classmates had long ago mastered. “How old are you, Izzie?”
“Thirty. Why does that matter?”
Eve would have guessed that she was younger. She shrugged. “Just curious.”
“You don’t wish to know why I was marked?”
“Sure. Are you going to tell me?”
“No.” Izzie climbed the short steps to the front door and opened it. Her loosely laced Dr. Martens thudded onto the hardwood of the living room. Sydney brought up the rear, locking them inside the house while another guard kept watch outside. Four guards, two for each duplex.
The moon had drifted farther along in the sky, shining less light into the space and creating more shadows. Eve was suddenly exhausted and a giant yawn escaped her.
“Tell me why you are here,” Izzie said, kicking off her boots.
Eve headed down the hall to her room. “Not tonight, I have a headache.”
“We can help one another.”
Eve paused at her door. “How exactly are you going to help me?”
The blonde shrugged. “I will think of a way.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.” Stepping into her room, Eve shut the door and crawled into bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Festive tropical music poured from hidden speakers while a warm ocean draft gusted through the open French doors of Greater Adventures Yachts, the manufacturer of the multimillion-dollar boats that funded the Australian firm.
Reed feigned the appearance of examining the photos of various ships on the wall, but in truth, he didn’t see any of them. Instead, he saw the horror of the night before—the blood splattered over acacias and broken melaleuca trees, the wide circular depression in the wild grasses, the skin of Les’s Mark torn from the missing body. Caught on various twigs, the flesh flapped in the evening breeze as a macabre banner, taunting them with their helplessness.
What the hell were they dealing with?
“Are you all right?” Mariel asked from her position beside him.
“Not really, no.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re good at what you do because you let the shit get to you.”
He managed a slight smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me.”
“Abel!”
Reed turned at the sound of the familiar, jovial voice. Uriel approached with his ever-ready wide grin and bright blue eyes. Sans shirt, the archangel sported only tropical shorts and flip-flops. His skin was tanned mahogany and the ends of his longish hair were bleached by the sun.
Bowing, Reed showed his respect and appreciation for the courtesy Uriel paid him by allowing him to investigate on Australian turf. As he straightened, the archangel clapped him on the shoulder.
“It is good to see you again,” Uriel said.
“And you as well.”
Uriel accepted Mariel’s extended hand and kissed her knuckles. “Let us go up to my office.”
They left the large waiting area and ascended a short flight of steps up to an expansive loft. A glass-topped, white wicker desk faced another set of open French doors. The stunning view of the beach beyond was a bit like the vista Eve’s condo enjoyed. However, the water in Huntington Beach was a dark bluish-gray. The water here was bluer. Beautiful. Reed found himself wishing Eve were here to see it.
Dropping into the chair behind the desk, Uriel said, “It is unfortunate that you are not here under more pleasant circumstances.”
Mariel took a seat.
Reed remained standing. He noted a small rack on a nearby console that held several bottles of wine. He crossed over to it and carefully lifted one, reading the brilliantly colored label. “Caesarea Winery?”
“A new venture,” the archangel explained.
“I hope it does well for you.”
“It always pays to be cautious and plan for contingencies, which is why I invited you to come out here.”
“We appreciate the invitation,” Mariel murmured.
“Where’s Les?” Reed asked. “I would like him to be present, if you don’t mind.”
“On the beach. He will be up in a moment.” Uriel’s features were grave. “He is taking the loss of his Mark very hard. I told him to hit the waves for a bit and clear his head. Everyone needs to be focused on the puzzle at hand.”
“It’s a terrible puzzle.” Mariel’s voice was soft and filled with sadness. “Something truly heinous.”
As if on cue, Les entered through the balcony doors, dripping wet and sprinkled with sand. No one missed the catch in Mariel’s breathing, least of all the handsome Aussie, who gifted her with a slight smile. “Hello.”
Uriel launched into the discussion without hesitation, looking between Reed and Mariel. “What did you determine last night? Is this situation similar to what you both experienced with your Marks?”
“Yes.” Reed returned the wine bottle to the rack. “The same.”
“So you believe it is the same Infernal?”
“Or the same classification,” Mariel said. “We don’t know if this is one demon or several.”
Uriel looked at Les, who nodded his agreement. “It’s a possibility to consider.”
“Three attacks in three weeks.” Reed thought back to the order he’d received to vanquish a tommy knocker causing trouble in a busy Kentucky mine. The faeries were Takeo’s specialty; the Mark had vanquished many of them. “For a new class of Infernal, there seems to be no learning curve. This demon has jumped straight into killing on a mass scale. And it’s not attacking defenseless mortals or novice Marks; it’s taking out our best and brightest.”
“I sent Kimberly after Patupairehe,” Les said grimly, “but we never saw any. So I’m wondering what happened to the original assignment.”
“Perhaps this Infernal is killing other demons, as well as Marks?” Uriel suggested.
Reed crossed his arms. “Or the seraphim are vulnerable in some way. Either erroneous information is leaching into the system or our lines of communication aren’t sacred. An Infernal could be intercepting the assignments as they’re sent down to us.”
“How would that be possible?” Mariel breathed, clearly horrified by the thought.
Uriel leaned forward with his forearms on the desk. “Marks graduate from their mentors every day. Killing one established Mark a month barely puts a dent in our numbers. It hurts, yes. But it is not fatal.”
“I’m not sure the goal is a thinning of our ranks.” Reed’s cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID, sent Sara to voicemail again, and passed the conversation over to the Aussie handler. “Les has a theory.”
Les ran a hand through his dripping wet hair and laid it out. “I think the demon might be absorbing the Marks it kills. Parts of the physical body, and also some of the Mark’s thoughts and connection to their handler.”