Forbidden (34 page)

Dante raised his chin defiantly. “I did not beg an audience with you. I requested to speak to any Grigori. Not
you
, in particular. I don’t even know who you are.” His tone was rich with distaste and arrogance, and the Grigori acknowledged him with a frosty stare. Then all at once, the Grigori smiled brightly and bowed at the waist.

“Then permit me. I am known as Armaros.”

A look of disbelief passed between Vaughn and Wolfgang but Dante remained aloof. “One is just as good as another, I suppose,” he lied, and shoved his hands into his pockets to posture artificial indifference. Actually, he was shocked.

Armaros was one of the original two hundred Grigori. They were rarely seen, prompting rumors that they had died out and their leadership had been replaced by newer Grigori who had fallen under the “spell” of human females. His presence here proved the rumors false.

Armaros was the Grigori who had revealed supernatural enchantments to humans, what they subsequently called magic.

If Dante had known the original Grigori were available, he would have summoned Azazel, the legendary expert in weaponry. After all, it was only fair that Michael have the most lethal outcast hunting him.

Armaros strolled closer, emanating the whisper of a cool cloud. “And you must be the Demon Knight called Dante.” He sized him up with a quick look. Dante shifted uncomfortably at the cold atmospheric change warring with his internal heat. “Might I guess the others?” Armaros continued. “Vaughn Raider and Wolf
thang
—”

“Wolf
gang
!” Wolfgang growled.

“Whatever.” Armaros shrugged.

“Do you know about the Guardian Michael Patronus?” Dante said, eager to begin.

Armaros seemed curious of his surroundings and meandered toward the fireplace. His cold white shadow rose over Santiago, who was sitting on the floor and steadily holding his head in place. The ring around his neck was moving like worms burrowing under his skin. His brown eyes flashed with a mix of fear and awe as the giant man passed by.

“You know, if you hold still it won’t leave a scar,” Armaros said casually, and Santiago’s mouth dropped open. The Grigori stopped before the fireplace and the scorching yellow flames instantly died out for the first time since the demons’ arrival. “Tell me about Michael Patronus.” Armaros plucked a card from the mantle and mimicked spinning it across the room as he suspected the demons had done.

“He is turning,” Dante announced boldly.

“And you know this … how?”

“He has acquired the necessary human emotions.”

“Ah, but there are a great many human emotions. Be more specific in your accusation.” He looked at Dante with a master-to-student attitude.

Dante bristled. “Do not play games with me, old man. I have neither the time nor patience. I said Michael is turning. He has developed desire
and
jealousy toward … a particular human. Are you and your clan going after him or not?”

“You are misinformed, Demon Knight. We, Grigori, do not
hunt
our brethren.”

“Call it what you will but it is understood that you forcibly recruit angels who
have succumbed to human pleasures—to join your clan, grow your brotherhood. Strength in numbers and all that. Maybe you want to repeat the ‘Great Rebellion’ like the Master? I don’t care. Whatever your cause or reasons, just know that Michael Patronus is turning.”

“And your stake in this is …?” Armaros aimed the playing card at the ceiling and flicked his wrist. The card disappeared and reappeared in the middle of Santiago’s forehead.

“Hey!” Santiago’s eyes crossed as he looked up at it.

“My stake in this is
my
business,” Dante answered.

Armaros chuckled without humor and continued around the room. He seemed intrigued as to how Demon Knights lived among humans. It had been years since he’d returned to earth, not that humans would have known; they couldn’t see him. Only those entities from the spirit realm had
that
privilege.

“Your stake in this is now my business,” Armaros said. “I would hate to be accused of being in alliance with a demon.” He tucked his hands behind him and strolled into the game room, methodically observing details like a real estate agent. At this late hour, the two flat screens not destroyed by Wolfgang’s temper were blaring obnoxious infomercials. The helicopter and T rex were still circling the coffee table. “Fascinating,” Armaros murmured. He waved a hand over an electric guitar, making it strum softly.

“What do you care about my motives?” Dante asked following at a distance. “You are damned the same as I am. Rejected by all those bearing the Sign of the Archangels.”

The insult brought about the first emotional reaction in Armaros. His benign demeanor dissipated into a stone-cold stare and his irises contracted into pinpricks of ice.

“Do not categorize us as anything but enemies, demon. I am still an angel, Born of Light, and I would just as soon remove your head as look at you.” He nodded toward Santiago in the other room. “And believe me, it would not regenerate as nicely as his.”

“We’re not so different, you and I,” Dante pushed. “We were inflicted with the same ‘disease,’ if you will, and then damned for being consumed by it. Like it or not, Grigori, we are as brethren. You just had a longer
fall
than I did.”

Armaros stiffened. His eyes iced over and turned white, and a fresh vapor of frigid air permeated the air around him. His spiritual energy had been ignited.

“What the—” Dante stepped back, thinking he had gone too far. Vaughn and Wolfgang flanked his sides with weapons ready.

“He’s calling the legion!” Vaughn yelled. He and Wolfgang nervously scanned the room for intruders.

“A summoning,” Armaros murmured to appease their fears. He was not attacking
but sliding into a trance to assess a disturbance in the spirit realm. His brow twitched with uncertainty. “Impossible. Someone is calling for …” He hesitated and then his eyes melted back into their color and he blinked into focus. He had a cockeyed grin as he rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “What has she gotten herself into this time?” he muttered.

“Do we have a deal?” Dante demanded. He had no use for the mundane activities of the Grigori when so much was riding on his own needs. The sooner the Grigori began hunting Michael, the sooner Dante’s path to Sophia was clear. “I tell you where to find Michael Patronus and you take him to the Borderlands.”

“I don’t make deals with demons.”

“Will you hunt him or not?”

“If you want this guardian out of the way, why don’t you take care of him yourself?”

“It is important that I not challenge him now. I cannot afford to be decapitated and sent below just yet.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can’t.” Armaros stepped back and inclined his head, respectively. His image began to crack and break apart like a puzzle. Once again, the smell of ice wafted across the room as if a freezer door had been flung open. “By the way,” he said, his voice crackling like his image. “The Grigori
do
know about Michael Patronus. And now we know where to find you, too.” His icy laughter shattered his apparition, and millions of tiny white flecks buzzed in a swarm and then abruptly disappeared.

Chapter 29

Michael

Soft lighting illuminated the windows of the three-story Victorian farmhouse. Music thumped low and steady like a healthy heart, compliments of Raph’s personal iPod collection—a modified Mozart remix. Michael stood outside the gate, absorbing the soothing emotions emanating from his family. He knew he would need all their understanding and all his strength to get through this.

A peel of laughter reminded Michael that Saturday night was game night, and it was Milvi’s turn to choose. Undoubtedly poker.

The family had gathered as per their custom on game nights: Uncle Paavo, Aunt Sasha, and Milvi on the far side of the polished mahogany dining table, Dimitri and Katarina at each end, with Raph, Gabe, and Uriel filling out the rest. The chair at Dimitri’s right hand was empty.

They were clutching five cards to their chests and grinning suspiciously at each other. Milvi covered a smile with her fanned cards, her violet eyes dancing between Raph and Gabe.

“Now, boys.” She giggled. “Just because you can read my emotions doesn’t mean you know what cards I’m holding.” She raised the bet with two blue chips, and her cousins broke up laughing.

Michael hated to wreck their good mood so he worked to dissolve his mixed feelings into a singular emotion. It was nearly impossible; his memories of being with Sophia in the courthouse were too fresh to completely subdue. So he faked a smile and stepped into the room.

“Hey, guys,” he called out cheerfully, but stress wafted over the family like a stiff breeze; eyes shifted and smiles capsized.

For the first time in his life, Michael felt like an outcast. Apprehension hummed around him like a live wire, and he looked for his mother’s caring face.

“Come have a seat.” Katarina lifted her smile but her voice wavered with concern.

Michael approached, carrying such dread that it felt like a heavy mantle across his shoulders. Dimitri offered a wooden smile to put the others at ease but no one could ignore Michael’s whirlwind emotions.

“Son? Something happen tonight?”

Michael gripped the back of his empty chair. One deep breath and then he confessed. “Yes. Tonight, Sophia St. James revealed her suspicions of me … of what she has witnessed over the past several weeks … well, since the day she arrived here. She is very confident that I have an ability to know when someone is in danger. That I can save them.”

“Did you admit it?” Raph’s voice was tight and his hair-trigger temper cocked and ready.

Michael had expected as much. He had convinced his brothers not to tell their parents about the incident at the Grab ’N Go convenience store. About Michael taking first strike against a demon, Dante’s failure to retaliate, and about Sophia’s ability to see into both spirit worlds at the accident with the nurse. For the first time in their lives, the boys were withholding information because Michael was losing his resolve. In return, Michael had agreed not to approach Sophia until they could figure out who or what she was.

“I didn’t have to admit it,” Michael said.

“Why?” Dimitri asked. He was relaxed but pensive, and his sharp blue eyes studied his son like he was some sort of specimen.

“Well, because … she jumped out a window.”

A look of justifiable horror passed around the family. Only Uriel had a peculiar look of pride.

“And you had to save her. Thus proving her theory,” Gabe explained, matter-of-fact. “So she is either extremely brave or pathetically foolish.”

The room fell silent, digesting the risk that Sophia had taken.

“She certainly trusts you, Michael,” Milvi offered softly.

“What window?” Raph demanded.

They locked eyes and a ripple of hostility passed between them. Michael was prepared to apologize for his transgression against his brothers; but it would be a private confession, not the public one he would give now. Not wanting to provoke Raph’s inevitable anger, Michael continued cautiously.

“Third-story window in the courthouse. I was there because … well, Sophia had gone to the dance with Dante, and I wanted to—”

“Wanted to what?” Raph jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair.

“Sit down,” Dimitri ordered.

Raph glared at Michael and then at Gabe, who was scowling with a look that could only be interpreted as,
Sit down and shut up!

Raph fumed and snatched up his chair.

“What does Sophia think now?” Dimitri asked quietly.

Michael hesitated. He understood the worry emanating from his father: partly parental because his sons were at odds, and partly from his duty. As Messenger for The Council, Dimitri would have to report if Michael had overstepped his boundaries.

“Before I explain,” Michael began. “I’d like everyone to understand something. Sophia is unique beyond any human I’ve ever encountered. I’ve tried to unravel her aura, to read her as I would anyone else. From the first moment I saw her, I felt a strange turmoil inside her. Something blocking part of her spirit. As you all know, I also experience a physical anomaly whenever she is around, a dual heartbeat.” He paused, taking a deep breath before emptying his soul for their inspection. “Well, Sophia experiences the same thing when I am around her.”

Eyes widened and flashed from person to person. Even Dimitri showed surprise and he looked at his wife with a question of,
Is it possible?
Katarina mirrored back his uncertainty.

As a man of science, Uncle Paavo liked details and facts. No mishmash. He had been silently dissecting the unexpected conversation and now demanded that Michael explain himself more clearly.

“I’m telling you, she can physically
feel
my presence. She feels the same second heartbeat when I am around.” Michael looked at Raph. “That day at the festival, she was testing her theory. She walked up behind me and I knew she was there because the thumping started. When I turned around and looked at her, she knew she was right.”

It was enough to share this; no need to mention the strange pulling Sophia also felt. Michael had a theory about it but hadn’t tested it yet.

Katarina posed the question they all wanted to ask. “Michael, did you confirm her suspicions? That you also experience the same supernatural feeling when she is around?”

It was the crucial issue he had been anticipating. He should’ve denied everything to Sophia. Should have saved her and sent her away. He could’ve pulled it off; could have convinced her she was imagining things, that he’d barely been able to save her, and that he felt nothing when she was around. He could have done it all but he hadn’t. He hadn’t want to, regardless of the consequences … and now, he had to face those consequences.

Michael nodded, and the others gasped. Particularly upset were his aunt and uncle. They conferred quietly in angry whispers.

Dimitri bristled at his younger brother’s rude behavior. “Paavo, we do not keep secrets here, you know that.”