“Which is why I think you should accompany Mariel.”
“I’m going.” Reed stood. “I’ll call her and we’ll head out.”
There was more behind Raguel’s request than preventative measures. The archangel wanted his firm to be the one responsible for the identification and vanquishing of this new demon. He didn’t want Uriel to take that honor, or any of the other archangels.
“I will be assembling the class and taking them to Fort McCroskey this evening. Report your findings to me there.”
“Fine. Keep an eye on Eve.”
Raguel withdrew the cigar from his smiling mouth. “Of course. She is my star pupil.”
“Is that because she’s already good? Or because you want her to be?”
“She is passably proficient.” Raguel shrugged. “She could be brilliant, if her heart was in it. As it is, only determination drives her, and that is not enough to achieve the heights she might be capable of.”
“How many new Marks have their heart in it? They’re all drafted into service.” Reed ran a hand through his short hair, reminded again that Eve was not at all the sort of mortal who usually became a Mark. She was/had been agnostic and she hadn’t committed a crime of sufficient severity. Her only offense was being a temptation to Cain; the shining, delicious apple in his garden of demons and death.
“Ms. Hollis is different,” Raguel said, his resonant voice rolling gently through the air. “Marks always come to us with varying degrees of faith within them. She has none at all, and she is hindered without it. Other Marks find strength in their desperation to save their souls; she lacks that edge and that deficiency might be the death of her.”
If Raguel didn’t see to that first. “Are the other Marks still hostile toward her? She might be ‘dumbing down’ to avoid further antagonism.”
“I have never witnessed any hostilities.”
Reed’s mouth curved wryly. “That doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
Because Eve was paired with Cain, a legend in the field for both his 100 percent kill rate and his autonomy, she was tormented by those who were jealous of her “good fortune.” They assumed Cain did the lion’s share of the work and she stood around looking pretty. They didn’t bother to learn how wrong they were.
Cain had also pulled strings to keep Eve close to her family. Marks, as a rule, were transplanted to foreign firms. They were mostly loners, those who had either distanced themselves from family and friends or didn’t have any for a variety of reasons. Their lack of strong emotional ties facilitated their acclimation to the life of a Mark. It also created a divide between them and Eve that was undeniable.
But Raguel blindly—or conveniently—ignored how the other Marks treated her.
“Just keep her alive while I’m gone,” Reed said. “That’s not asking too much.”
“Keep yourself alive, Abel,” Raguel returned. “We have a great deal of work ahead of us.”
As if Reed could forget that.
Armageddon. It was coming. Sooner, rather than later.
Alec pulled Eve’s Chrysler 300 into her assigned spot in the subterranean garage of Gadara Tower. Turning off the engine, he glanced at her, noting her set jaw and taut posture. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her slender body was dressed in a black cotton tank top and khaki shorts. He reached out to her, kneading her tense shoulder muscles. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“Liar,” he murmured.
“Let’s just say I would prefer to go camping with a different crew, if I had a choice.”
His hand wrapped around her nape and pulled her closer. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “I’ll miss you.”
An impatient thumping upon Eve’s trunk shook the car and drew his attention to the rear window.
“No place for muckin’ aboot!” a masculine voice shouted.
Alec pushed up his sunglasses, noting that the heckler was one of a group of three people walking by. He was tanned, blond, and looked to be in his early thirties.
“That’s Ken,” Eve said with laughter in her voice.
Ken’s eyes darted between them, widening with horrified recognition. He quickly retreated, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender. He had a duffel bag draped over one shoulder and teeth white enough to blind. “Sorry, Cain. I didnae ken it was you.”
“Smooth move, arsehat,” one of his companions muttered, shoving him.
“Ken, huh?” Alec grinned. “I was just thinking he looks like a Barbie doll.”
“Don’t let that pretty-boy exterior fool you. He’s the best in the class.”
Alec climbed out of the driver’s seat and rounded the trunk. Opening the passenger door, he helped her out and asked, “What’s his nickname?”
Eve had assigned names to all the Marks in her class. He thought he knew why. A nickname could serve two purposes: it could dehumanize a subject or it could personalize them. Alec suspected Eve’s use of nicknames was due to both reasons.
“Just Ken,” she said, “since he does look like a Ken doll.”
Catching her elbow, Alec led her toward the elevators.
She shot him a wry glance. “You know, Gadara isn’t going to like me riding up to Monterey with you instead of with the others.”
“Gadara could use one of his planes to transport you all up there. Since he doesn’t want to make life easy for you, we’re not going out of our way to make life easy for him.”
“You keep breaking rules for me.”
He shrugged it off.
She looked at him in a way that made him want to take her back to bed. “The wolf in the bathroom told me you made a deal for my life. Then broke it.”
“You believe everything an Infernal tells you?” He didn’t want her gratitude. Not when he was the reason she was marked to begin with, and certainly not when he was hoping she would learn to like being a Mark.
“Thank you,” she said softly, killing him.
They rode the elevator up to the atrium level.
Eve’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the smell of so many Marks in one enclosed space.”
“You have to admit, it’s more pleasant than the stench of rotting Infernal souls.”
“Yeah, but it’s too much. Makes it hard to breathe.”
The lush vegetation in the atrium planters created a humidity that intensified the sweet smell created when a hundred-plus Marks gathered. The effect was pleasant to Alec, as was the surge of power he felt whenever he was surrounded by Marks. Stepping into a firm was always a heady rush, no matter which firm he visited or where it was located. His blood thrummed with energy and his heart rate lurched into an elevated rhythm, as if the other Marks shared their energy with him. But Eve’s senses were still very sensitive. He wondered how long that would last. Since he’d never mentored before and had yet to be trained for the task, he had no benchmark to compare her to.
They crossed the marble lobby to a recessed hallway where a private set of elevators would take them to the bowels of the building.
“What do you know about this fort we’re going to?” Eve asked. “Anything?”
“Fort McCroskey was closed in 1991. There are some services still available—a commissary and some family housing for the students of a nearby military school—but otherwise it’s a ghost town.”
“Why are we going there?”
“There’s enough infrastructure left to facilitate training. The Army still uses it for that reason on occasion and since our purpose is the same—the defeat of an enemy through force—it serves our needs just as well.”
“Fun.”
Alec linked his fingers with Eve’s. The next week would be rough for her. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”
The cast of her features changed from disgruntlement to worry. “I’m an idiot. Bitching about learning how to defend myself while you’re on assignment.”
“I’ll be fine. You just take care of yourself.”
Eve eyed him carefully. “But it’s not going to be easy, right? He has subordinate wolves to protect him; you’re alone.”
“It’s no fun when it’s easy.”
“I wish I felt that way.” She leaned against the metal handrail that surrounded the elevator car and crossed her arms. It was her you-are-not-going-to-bullshit-me pose. “Have you done this before? Gone after an Alpha while he’s home with his pack?”
“Piece of cake.”
“Now who’s lying?”
Alec grinned and took in the view from the top of her head down to the combat boots on her feet. Eve was the type of exotic beauty people looked more than twice at. Creamy skin, inky dark tresses, red lips. His own paradise, his refuge from the rigors of his life.
It had been lust at first sight ten years ago and nothing had changed since then, despite being apart the entire time. She was his apple, his temptation. He was her downfall. Talk about a shitty foundation for a relationship. They had baggage, hurt feelings, regrets. Eve was the kind of woman a man married. White picket fence, kids, and a dog. Alec was aiming for advancement to archangel and heading his own firm.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the training center. The entire floor was dedicated to creating the best fighting force of Marks possible. There were classrooms with desks as well as dojos, indoor firing ranges, weight rooms, and fencing studios. Alec sometimes stayed to watch the instructions, impressed with the level of efficiency. As the original Mark, he’d been forced to survive by the skin of his teeth. Some said he was born to kill, built for it, and he agreed.
Eve led the way to a glass-enclosed conference room. As they entered, the conversation died and all eyes turned toward them. There were a handful of people in the room, ranging in age from late teens to middle age, male and female. Some sat around the long table that dominated the center of the room, others sat atop it with their legs dangling over the sides. Ken was pouring himself a glass of water from the silver pitcher on a nearby console. They all looked at Eve, then glanced furtively at Alec except for a nearby blonde who assessed him boldly from head to toe.
“How are you feeling, Hollis?” asked a dark-haired Hispanic man in jeans and button-down flannel shirt.
“Good. Thanks for asking.”
As Alec joined Eve in the far corner, he returned every stare. Eve hopped onto the widow ledge, her lithe legs dangling and her fingers curled around the lip. They were white knuckled, betraying her unease. The tension in the room was thick and it pissed him off.
He leaned back and crossed his arms, facing the room dead-on. Uncomfortable shuffling ensued, then a return to the previous discussion.
Ken cleared his throat. “I cannae wait to get started.”
“You’re two sammies short of a picnic,” a petite redhead said derisively, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Well,” Alec murmured for Eve’s ears only. “The girls are easily pegged with their nicknames, I think. ‘Goth Girl’ especially. I’m assuming the redhead is ‘Princess,’ since she’s covered in glitter.”
Eve smiled. “I am so high school, aren’t I?”
“It’s not your fault they’re easily identifiable. Besides, I liked you in high school,” he purred, alluding to the ill-fated tryst that led them to where they were today. He couldn’t regret it, and he took every opportunity to remind her of why she shouldn’t regret it either.
Eve bumped her shoulder into his. “Can you guess which one is ‘Mastermind’? That one’s a bit harder.”
Alec looked around. There were seven people in the room besides themselves. Since he had already identified four of the Marks, he quickly ruled them out—Ken, the red-haired princess with her glitter mascara and lip gloss, the Goth girl with her pale blond hair and pixie-perfect features, and the “Fashionista” whose height and rail-thin figure were the stuff of supermodel dreams. The remaining occupants were the guy who greeted Eve when they entered, a wan and slightly portly teenage boy in a nylon jogging suit, and a gray-haired gentleman in dress slacks and polo shirt.
“The old guy?” he guessed. “He kinda has that Magneto vibe.”
“You’re older than he is,” Eve reminded. “And no, he’s ‘Gopher.’ His name is Robert Edwards.”
“Okay. Then it’s the guy in the jeans.”
“Nope.”
Alec’s eyes widened. “The kid? You’re shitting me.”
Laughing, she said, “No, I’m not. He’s older than he looks. Early twenties. Name is Chad Richens. He and Edwards are both from England, so I’m guessing that’s one of the reasons why they gravitated toward each other. The other is that Richens can come up with schemes, but he doesn’t like to do the dirty work.”
“Like what?”
“Like the time he had Edwards swap out everyone’s bayonets with dull ones from the previous day. We all worked twice as hard as he did that session, because he and Edwards were the only ones to have freshly sharpened blades. It was Richens’s idea, but Edwards was the one who actually made the switch. Claire freaked when Ken figured it out. I thought she was going to give herself an aneurism.”
“The fashionista?”
“Yes, Claire Dubois, from France. Isn’t she gorgeous? She says she wasn’t before the mark. Apparently, she used to be a meth addict. She burned her apartment down and killed her boyfriend in the process, which is why she was marked. She’s still very high strung and fidgets a lot.”
Alec studied the teenager. “How is Richens doing in the physical portion of the class?”
“Not good. Even with the help of the mark, he has trouble with the combat training, which is why I think he tries to get through the sneaky way. He’s a video game junkie and strategy is his strength, not his fists. He also has a short fuse.” Her voice lowered. “Edwards told me Richens’s dad was abusive. I think he carries some of that around with him.”