“You didn’t mention the door-breaking thing to Gadara,” Eve said, just realizing that omission.
She accepted the bag of merchandise he set in her lap, moving it to the floorboards between her feet. Straightening, Eve was arrested by a sudden rush of warmth moving through her chilled veins. The sensation felt almost as if a warm blanket had been tossed around her shoulders. A blanket that smelled distinctly like Reed.
“I wanted to see if Abel would say anything.” Alec turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking spot. “He’s the one who triggered your mark. That’s his job as your handler.”
Eve watched him maneuver into traffic, still processing the rapid disbursement of her fear. One moment she was scared out of her mind, the next she felt cocooned and protected.
As if he was guided by radar, Alec quickly found the two boys strolling down a side street and fell into a safe surveillance distance behind them.
“What does that mean?” she queried. “Did he know about Mrs. Basso?”
“Handlers aren’t necessarily aware of the particulars of the crime. They usually only know what class of demon the target is and which Mark in their stable is both local and qualified.”
“Well, you can’t get any more local than right next door.”
“Or any less qualified that an untrained novice.” He exhaled harshly. “Abel’s job is to assign the most capable bounty hunter to each individual hunt, even if that means the Mark has to travel like we did today.”
Eve’s hands fisted in her lap. “Once a Mark is assigned, can another one step in?”
“Another Mark won’t get the call, no.”
Reed saved him for me.
Warmth blossomed in her chest, which scared her. She was grateful to be given a chance to kill. What did that make her? Besides homicidal?
“Raguel knew nothing about Abel assigning the Nix to you,” Alec continued grimly, “which means Abel is acting on his own.”
“Do handlers work for multiple firm leaders?”
Alec shook his head. “They work for one firm, that’s it. But they are somewhat autonomous. They’re mal’aks—angels—so they have full use of their gifts. They can route assignments to whomever they wish.”
“Perhaps Reed doesn’t trust Gadara either.”
“Or maybe Raguel deserves the benefit of the doubt and my brother has something crafty up his sleeve,” he snapped. “But I guess you don’t want to think about that.”
“Hey.” Eve twisted in her seat, adjusting her seat belt for comfort. “Don’t get pissy.”
“Raguel is an archangel, Eve. His love for God is absolute.”
“I don’t buy it, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen a drop of compassion in that guy. A lot of self-interest and bullshit, but love and compassion? Not at all.”
“And you’ve seen love and compassion in Abel?” he scoffed. “When exactly was this? When he was banging you into servitude in the stairwell? Or when he blew off your training to assign you to a demon bent on killing you?”
Alec pulled the car over to the curb just before a cul de sac. The street sign named it Falcon Circle. The boys had turned the corner just a minute earlier. Eve hopped out before the vehicle stopped rolling. She continued on foot, anger and frustration riding her hard. On the left side of the road, the streets were open-ended. On the right side—the side she was traversing—all the streets were dead ends that butted up against a short field with a copse of trees beyond it.
The engine shut off and the driver’s-side door slammed shut behind her, but Eve kept going. When she reached the corner, she paused and watched the two young men enter a home at the very end of the street. It was a two-story house with a deeply arched roof. The paint was a popular eighties-era scheme of light brown with chocolate trim. In the yard was a tricycle that had seen better days, and a lawn with bare patches and weed-infested flower beds. A covered car sat on one side of the driveway, while the adjacent side was stained with the remnants of an oil leak.
The day was bright and sunny, but a massive overgrown tree shaded the house and kept it in darkness. The residence was depressing, especially amid the other homes that showed signs of owner pride and attention. Alec’s prey lived in the neighborhood eyesore, and the air of decay and neglect gave Eve the chills.
“Now what?” she asked when he drew abreast of her.
“Now I wait until the time is right. I know where to find him.”
“Can you tell me how we’re expected to get anything done? You’re getting called . . . I’m getting called . . . we’re both getting called together. How much shit is God going to throw at us?”
“He doesn’t know what’s happening, angel.”
She snorted. “The all-seeing, all-knowing creator of everything is clueless?”
“He listens, He doesn’t watch.”
Eve opened her mouth to argue that point when she remembered that God hadn’t known Alec had killed his brother. He’d had to ask to find out. “Maybe you should tell him to give us a break, then.”
“Usually, a mentor’s sole job is to teach. As Raguel said, once a mentor/Mark team is created, they are inseparable until the Mark is capable of functioning alone.” Alec gestured impatiently back at the car. “In my case, God wasn’t willing to lose me as an individual unit. I told Him I would do both jobs at the same time. It was the only way to be with you.”
Eve’s pique drained away in a rush. “Alec—”
“That doesn’t explain why Abel is giving you hazardous assignments before you’re ready or why Raguel doesn’t know about it.”
“You don’t trust your brother at all.”
“No, I don’t. I have yet to see him give a shit about anything besides himself.”
“That isn’t how the popular story goes, you know.”
The look he shot her was derisive. He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get in. “I know.”
“So tell me what happened. What have you two been fighting about all these years?” She had to wait for him to settle into the seat beside her. Though it only took a minute or so, it seemed like forever.
As he pushed the key into the ignition, Alec kept his gaze straight ahead. “What do all men fight about?”
“Territory, goods, women.”
“Right.”
“Well, which is it?”
He put the transmission into gear and turned the car around, heading back the way they’d come. “All of the above.”
Raguel returned to the pent house suite of the Mondego Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, which he owned. It had been a long day and since it was only six o’clock in the evening, it was nowhere near over. The red tape involved in renovating a resort was daunting and exhausting. There were months of meetings and mountains of permits to file. Soon he would need Ms. Hollis’s input to continue. It would give them plenty of time to work together and forge a bond, a bond that would assist him in managing Cain.
Raguel briefly noted the panoramic views afforded by the walls of windows around him, before turning his attention to the desk in the corner.
“Report,” he ordered the secretary who waited there. Kathy Bowes wore dark slacks and a white turtleneck sweater, and looked every bit as young as she’d been when marked at the tender age of fourteen. She was kept close to home to keep her alive. There was more than one way to kill a demon, and some Marks were best suited to safer tasks than a physical hunt.
The secretary stood and read from a pad of paper in her hands. “Three Marks lost today. Two Marks acquired. Possible sighting of a new breed of Infernal. Uriel called and would like you to call him back—”
Raguel scowled. “Three Marks? Who were the handlers?”
“Mariel lost a mentor/Mark team to the Infernal she didn’t recognize—”
“Is that the possible new breed sighting?”
“Yes.”
He loosened his tie. “I want her full report.”
“The recording is on your desk.”
“Who else?”
“Abel lost one.”
Raguel paused, disquieted. “Who did Abel lose?”
“Takeo, a former Yamaguchi-gumi yakuza member. He was very good. Forty-seven kills.”
Relief flooded the archangel, and reminded him that he was taking a dangerous gamble. The loss of Evangeline Hollis would create an enemy in Cain that would jeopardize centuries of work. But the possible rewards were worth the risk.
Raguel knew that Ms. Hollis needed to find self-confidence in her abilities in spite of Cain rather than because of him. Past observations of her had revealed that she was ambitious and determined. Cain’s mentoring of her had been a curve Raguel wasn’t expecting, but he believed it was still possible for her to achieve an identity separate from her mentor.
The seven archangels were tasked with the training of new Mark recruits. They rotated the duties for the sake of fairness. For seven weeks a year, each archangel was given free rein to use his or her powers in the training process. Raguel had deliberately delayed Ms. Hollis’s training so that it would fall into his rotation. He would give her a level of attention he’d never bestowed on any other Mark. A bond would form organically. He fully intended for her to align with him so completely that she related to him more than with her mentor and her handler.
Cain responded to stress with aggression; he always had. By keeping him edgy and off-guard, Raguel would promote tension between him and Ms. Hollis. Abel’s obvious infatuation with his brother’s lover would assist with that. She couldn’t have both of them, and being torn between the two would prevent a deep attachment from forming with either one.
“Is Abel’s report on my desk, too?” Raguel asked.
“He hasn’t filed one yet. Just the herald has come in.”
The archangel frowned. Abel was unfailingly prompt with all his reports, which were voice recordings made on the scene that were later transcribed onto celestial scrolls for future reference. While some handlers required time to absorb the loss of a Mark, Abel found }solace in the act of witnessing the Mark’s sacrifice for divine consideration. Some Marks were forgiven their trespasses, regardless of the number of indulgences earned.
Raguel moved to his office. He briefly skimmed the various items that had been left on his desk for perusal and approval. He flipped through several mock-ups of advertisements for his numerous ventures, pausing briefly on two options for invitations to the grand opening of Olivet Place. It was fortunate that the tengu had been vanquished prior to the ribbon cutting. Then he picked up the disk labeled Mariel.
Something niggled at him.
“Ms. Bowes!” he yelled.
“Yes?”
“Confirm Cain and Ms. Hollis’s whereabouts.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll see to it immediately.”
Eve never thought she would be happy to hang out in a Motel 6. Her personal preferences were much more upscale. But right now, she was looking forward to the tiny room off Highway 10 as if it was the penthouse suite in the Mondego.
She climbed out of the passenger side of the Focus and stretched. An aftereffect of the mark’s release of adrenaline was the lingering sense of physical restlessness. Emotionally, however, she just wanted five minutes to enjoy some chocolate.
Pulling the motel key from his pocket, Alec unlocked their ground-floor room and ushered her inside. The space was small, about the size of Eve’s guest bathroom. The two double beds barely fit inside, with the bed farthest from the door pushed up right against the bathroom wall and the nearest bed having scarcely enough room to fit in the window air-conditioning unit. The decor was motel classic—busy-printed coverlets that hid stains, nondescript wallpaper, and a three-paneled painting of the beach above the two headboards. A small fridge sat by the dresser and the sink waited beyond that, conveniently—though unattractively—built outside the shower and toilet area.
Alec set the keys and their purchases next to the television and pushed his shades onto his forehead. He leaned back against the dresser and crossed his arms.
Eve sank onto the edge of the bed nearest the door. “Can you pass me a Kit Kat?”
He reached for the bag. Digging inside, he laughed. “What the hell did you buy?”
She thought back to her time in the store. “I’m not sure. For a while there, I freaked out.”
Alec straightened and dumped the contents onto the other bed. Eve stood and surveyed the pile.
“Antibacterial dish soap?” He arched a brow at her. “Floral air freshener. Unscented baby wipes. Two packages of lime-flavored gelatin. Beef jerky. Facial tissue enhanced with lotion.”
She picked out the chocolate and the cell phone, arranged the pillows on her bed, and sprawled against the headboard. A moment later she was munching on what she considered to be manna from someone’s god. She plugged the AC adapter for the phone into the outlet in the base of the nightstand lamp. Then she dialed her parents’ house.
It rang three times before, “Hello?”
Eve breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Hey, Mom.”
“Where are you calling from?” Miyoko asked. “The Caller ID says ‘unknown caller’.”
“Long story. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Your dad isn’t. He’s mad.”
Darrel Hollis’s version of mad was a long-suffering look. He never raised his voice, never got physical. Eve suspected his blood pressure was on par with her new Mark stats. “Oh? About what?”
“The city turned off our water and started digging up the yard. They have to fix a leak. I told your dad it was time to resod anyway.”
Eve smiled, relieved that the mark system had moved so promptly. “Tell him to look on the bright side,” she suggested. “This might save you money on your utilities bill.”