Eve of Destruction (23 page)

The line rang three times. He was about to hang up when Eve’s voice, breathy and filled with relief, answered. “Alec!”

“Angel.” Concern straightened his spine and canceled his plans to chastise her for not answering his other calls. “Is everything all right?”

“No—”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, but Molenaar—the Stoner—is dead.”

“
What?
How?”

He listened to her explanation with a growing sense of urgency. “I want you out of there,” he said when she finished. “Right now.”

“That’s Gadara’s plan. We’re packing up as we speak.”

He knew her well enough to pick up the stubbornness underlying her tone. “Don’t fight him on this, angel, although I can’t imagine why you would. Sounds like just the sort of thing you would want to avoid.”

“No shit. Where’s my scaredy-cat sense of self-preservation
when I need it?” She sighed. “I’ve been told I’m going through the Novium. It’s making me bitchy.”

Alec stilled. It was impossible. It was years too soon.

“I would take that with a grain of salt,” he said gruffly. “Raguel doesn’t have enough experience with the Heat to make that diagnosis.”

“Well, your brother agrees with him.”

“Abel is there?” His concern for her safety turned into something baser, an emotion that was darker and more selfish.

“Yes. He has something going on with Gadara. I don’t know what it is.”

Alec was more concerned with his brother having something going on with Eve. She shouldn’t be so susceptible to the Heat so quickly. By design, the Novium helped train Marks to overcome their lingering fears so they could achieve successful independence. Eve hadn’t been marked long enough to be affected, plus they hadn’t attained the sort of bond he’d seen in other mentor/Mark pairings. If she went through the Novium now, not only would he lack a vital part of the experience he hoped would help him advance to firm leader, but he would also miss the opportunity to bind Eve more tightly to him.

With a growl, Alec moved to the bed and sat. It was time for another argument with God about the return of his
mal’akh
powers. Eve, bless her, was somewhat of a disaster magnet. “Are any of the other students showing signs?”

“I have no idea.” Her tone was weary. “They’re argumentative, and Romeo and the princess are still screwing like rabbits, but other than that
. . .
? I don’t know what to look for.”

“They’re not important. Just take care of yourself.” If it was only Eve, he would have to seriously consider if her acclimation was being manipulated. And if so, who was responsible.

“Take care of myself how? I feel like shit, Alec. As if I have the flu. Isn’t the mark bad enough? Why does my process have to be so out of whack with the norm?”

“Angel . . .” Fuck, he should be with her now. She shouldn’t be alone. And she damn well shouldn’t be anywhere near Abel, whose connection with her would strengthen while his waned. “I’m guessing the Stoner’s death triggered your Heat early. Maybe you’re being affected so strongly because you’ve already been on a hunt.”

“That’s what I told Reed. This sucks. I’m not a dog; I shouldn’t feel like a bitch in heat.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You’re not the one going through it, Alec,” she argued. “Trade places with me, then tell me how it feels.”

Inhaling sharply, he forced himself to remain seated and not break speed limits back to Monterey. Not for the first time, he damned the fact that he was as untrained in his role as she was in hers.

“I hate being clueless,” he growled, shoving a rough hand through his hair. “This whole situation is
fucked all to hell. Everyone’s got their thumb in the pie and we’re stuck cleaning up the mess.”

“No one’s finger is in my pie,” she said dryly. “And sadly, I’m disappointed about that. The Novium is making me horny. How insane is that?”

Alec stilled, considering. He’d come across all types of mentor/Mark pairs over the years. Romantically linked teams were rare, but they did happen. One Mark had sworn that the best sex of her life had come during the Novium. She’d wondered whether it was melancholy over the end of her mentor relationship that had made the sex so hot or whether it was due to the Heat itself. Either way, the Mark had said her emotional attachment had strengthened during that time despite the imminent end to the training bond.

And Abel was there with Eve . . .
Damn it.

“I wish you were here,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like a stranger in my own skin.”

There was something he could do for her from this distance, one way to ensure that she didn’t fall into Abel’s greedy hands like a ripe, juicy apple. “I don’t have to be with you to help you.”

“Talking helps. But honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do with you right now.”

“All action. My kind of girl.” Alec piled the pillows against the headboard and made himself comfortable. He pictured Eve in the grip of lust—her eyes glassy with need, her lips red and parted on gasping breaths as he pumped hard, fast, and deep into her.

With his voice low and thick, he asked, “Are you alone?”

Her hesitation told him that she registered the change in his mood. “No. I’m with the others, helping them pack up the equipment.”

“Can you find someplace where you will be within a safe distance but far enough away to prevent anyone from overhearing you?”

Eve’s breath caught, then was exhaled in rush. “I think so.”

“Then get there. Quick.”

Raguel unfolded from the back of his bulletproof Suburban and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Before him stood the headquarters where the garrison commander, Colonel Rachel Wells, oversaw the nuts and bolts of what was left of Fort McCroskey and the adjunct installations.

He had called ahead and she was expecting him, but the tone of her voice had warned him of trouble ahead. Debunking the ghosts was important to her for a reason he had yet to discern. But her motivation was moot. He would
persuade
her to postpone the filming of the ghost-hunter show long enough for his team to purify the area. A few days, at most, were all he needed.

Montevista exited the front passenger seat. With practiced movements, the guard straightened the fit of his navy blazer, effectively concealing the bulge of his shoulder holster and gun. From behind dark
sunglasses, the Mark scanned their surroundings with a sweeping glance. “I can’t stand feeling vulnerable.”

“You have the strength of an army in you.”

“Flattery won’t save you if we’re attacked by whatever butchered Molenaar today. You and the students should be on the move as we speak, sir.”

Raguel brushed a careless hand down his dress shirt. The time for leisure was over and his change of attire reflected that. “Charles Grimshaw will circle us for a while before he strikes again. He just wanted us to know he was here, hunting.”

Montevista looked at him. Although the Mark’s shades were dark enough to be impermeable to mortal eyes, Raguel’s enhanced vision saw through them as if they weren’t there. The Mark was clearly taken aback. “Grimshaw did this? How do you know?”

“Molenaar was hunted by an animal. He was targeted because he was the weakest and slowest member of our group. And the manner in which he was killed was a message, one guaranteed to reveal the sender.”

“What is the message?” Sydney asked. She was a petite blonde, less than five feet tall. Delicately feminine, she downplayed her fragility with a severe chignon, starkly cut pantsuit, and button-down dress shirt. Like Montevista, she wore dark shades and her right ear was wrapped with an earpiece that kept her connected to the rest of his security detail.

“He intends to cut off God from the people—hence
the decapitation of a crucified man—through those who are lacking and vulnerable.”

Montevista’s hazel eyes narrowed consideringly. This was why Raguel trusted him with his life. The Mark examined everything. “How is that Grimshaw’s signature?”

Raguel moved to the walkway that led to the headquarters entrance. On the lawn to the left, a bronze statue celebrated a person or event rather than the hand of God who guided all. He looked away, noting instead the number of cars in the parking lot and the proliferation of uniform-clad soldiers scurrying like ants around the various buildings.

“Charles once told me that Infernals are not an accident. He claimed they were created by design and our time here on Earth is merely a test. Survival of the fittest, he said. One day, only the strongest and wiliest will remain. That is who God seeks, he claims. Not the most faithful, but the most ruthless.”

“What do you think, sir?” Sydney asked.

“I think Charles lost his originality with age. His actions are not motivated by survival of the fittest; they are spurred by his own misplaced grief and self-recrimination. Nearly everyone blames God when they lose a loved one. I expected better of him.”

Montevista’s face took on a stony cast. “The loss of a child is something you could never understand unless it happened to you.”

Raguel was well aware that Montevista—a former police officer—had approached the acquitted murderer of his six-year-old daughter and fired six
rounds from his service revolver straight into the man’s heart. One for each year of her life. It was why Montevista was marked.

“The Lord gave,” Raguel murmured, “and the Lord hath taken away.”

“Job 1:20–21,” Sydney offered.

“It’s a brutal test even the most pious fail.” Montevista’s voice was tight. “A demon like Grimshaw didn’t stand a chance.”

“Perhaps that was the point.” Raguel reached into his pocket for his beeping cell phone. He withdrew it and read the text message from Uriel.

Satellite conference @ 18:00 EST.

He checked the time and exhaled harshly. It was just past noon. He still needed to speak with Abel, who would explain what happened in Australia. Going blind into a meeting with the other archangels was not an option. There were very few things he disliked more than discovering that he knew less than his siblings.

Once he learned all he could from Abel, Raguel would send him away. The
mal’akh
’s appearance so swiftly on the heels of Molenaar’s murder had created a volatile situation Evangeline was not prepared for. Later, she would serve God’s purpose. For now, Raguel wanted nothing to interfere with his own work with her. He fully intended for her to align with him so completely that she related to him more than she did with Cain and Abel. He could manage them through her. Together, he and the two brothers could form a triumvirate that would ensure his position in
the celestial hierarchy. And bringing the warring siblings together would prove unequivocally that he could accomplish any task. Ascension to the rank of
hashmal
wouldn’t be far behind.

Raguel’s fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle of the door. The entrance to the headquarters was set into the side of the building, shielded by an overhang that kept the doorway in shadow. Free of the sun’s glare, the glass was as clear as still water. Even without his enhanced sight, he could see directly through to the twin doors on the opposite side of the long foyer.

The lights were out. Nothing moved. He listened closely and heard only silence.

Montevista rushed in front of him, preventing him from opening the door. Sydney pressed her back to his, shielding him from a possible rear attack.

“Take him back to the truck,” Montevista ordered.

“Not yet.” Glancing over the Mark’s shoulder, Raguel noted the flashing red light on the wall. “Someone set off the fire alarm.”

“I don’t smell smoke.”

“Neither do I.” If it were present, he could smell it from a mile away. Literally. “A drill, perhaps.”

“I don’t like it,” Sydney said. “Something’s off. I can feel it.”

“Sir, if you’ll wait in the car with Sydney,” Montevista suggested, “I’ll investigate and find the colonel.”

“Not this time,” Raguel demurred. “Under the circumstances, I prefer that we remain together.”

Something weighty and cool was pressed into his palm. Raguel glanced at Sydney, who gave a nod. Then, his gaze dropped to the gun in his hand. His lip curled in distaste. Such a blunt and brutal weapon, lacking all elegance and refinery. That he was forced to carry, and possibly use, such an instrument was insulting. Against an Infernal, he could unleash the full force of his God-given power. But against a mortal—a Satanist or possessed soul—he had to restrain himself to inflicting wounds that wouldn’t destroy the body or betray what he was.

The restrictions on his gifts chafed deeper every day. To his knowledge, the other archangels were happy with their lot. Uriel loved the ocean. Raphael loved the Serengeti. Sara had earthy appetites. He, however, would leave mortal life behind in an instant to return to the heavens. There was little here that appealed to him. He found it all so primitive. Despite centuries of technological advances, human nature had yet to mature beyond its infantile stages.

Raguel handed the gun back. “I changed my mind. Wait here.”