Key of Solomon: Relic Defender, Book 1 (22 page)

Kat glided over to the ottoman in front of Lexi’s chair and perched on the edge. Her ghostly figure seemed more substantial today. As if she had better control of how solid she became. “So, what are you studying so intently?”

“My family’s history.”

Kat arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Is it good?”

“Well, it’s fascinating, I’ll admit to that.”

“Fascinating in a good way or fascinating in a skeletons in the closet way?”

Lexi shrugged. “I don’t know. If there are any, I haven’t found them yet.”

“So, what’s the deal then?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.” Kat shook her head. Blonde curls bounced about her heart-shaped face. “Just that defenders existed and that you are one. And that defenders work in the background to protect the human race from demons and other things that go bump in the night. No particulars beyond that.”

Lexi nodded. “Yeah, that’s about it.” She flipped the book shut with a dull thud. “What it doesn’t tell me is where defenders come from. Sure, I get their purpose but not how they came to be.”

An understatement. It seemed the story of their beginnings was the source of much debate and a few legends. So many different tales, including one that said the first defender was made at the time of Adam and Eve’s banishment from the Garden of Eden. If so, how were they able to keep this secret for so long?

Kat tilted her head. “Does that make a difference?”

“Make a difference?” Lexi’s brows drew together. “Make a different to what specifically?”

“Whether or not you believe and whether or not you intend to help Mikos find the Key?”

Lexi transferred her gaze from her friend to the fireplace. Sap exploded within the wood, letting out several crackling pops. Sparks spit and flashed into flames that danced merrily. Her friend had asked a good question.

Did she believe? Not just in her destiny but that she has the key to saving the world. Jesus, did that seem as cockamamie as it sounded?

A part of her had always figured the world, life in general, had much more depth than humans knew. She hadn’t necessarily believed in ghosts or spirits, yet she couldn’t deny a lot of strange things had happened to her as a child. Nothing physical; until recently she hadn’t seen things. More of a sense of being watched.

Fingers snapped in front of her face. “Hellloooo, Lex, you still here?”

Lexi felt her eyes cross. She grabbed at the clicking fingers before she thought about Kat’s warning. “Cut it out.”

Kat let out a sharp squeal and disappeared. A few paces away she reappeared, her foot tapping. “Damn it, Lexi, I told you not to touch me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Lexi apologized. “But you know how much I hate when you do that.”

She sighed and shifted deeper under the throw. Three freaking days in Mikos’s home with nothing to show for it. Worse, she was now two days past Beliel’s deadline. The demon was probably seriously pissed since he couldn’t enter Mikos’s home.

Or maybe he’d taken her acquiescence to the training that she’d refused his offer. A coward’s approach, maybe, but being locked inside Mikos’s wards let her delay her decision. A decision she hadn’t actually made.

Kat sat down again. She met Lexi’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You mean besides I’m talking to my dead best friend, Mikos is an angel, I’m being hounded by a demon and I’m supposed to find a book before said demon finds it or he’ll destroy the world? What else could be wrong?”

The bright emerald gaze dimmed a bit. Kat’s hand reached out as if she wanted to offer comfort. Her fingers hovered over Lexi’s wrist but didn’t descend. Kat looked at her hand, and pulled her mouth into a thin line. In the next second, she glanced up and offered Lexi a weak smile. “Yeah, besides that.”

“Mikos thinks the memory of the Key’s location is buried in my psyche. He thinks all I need to do is concentrate and poof, I’ll know where to find it. Big plan. Not working.”

And she still hadn’t done anything to find Devyn. That bothered her so much she’d decided to do something about it.

Today.

But she wasn’t about to tell Kat that. She had a feeling her friend wouldn’t understand and would try to stop her.

Later, Lexi still slumped in the wing chair with no idea how she was going to leave the house. She’d been sitting in the same place since Kat left. After giving her a pep talk that was all pep and little substance, not that she blamed her friend, Kat claimed she had somewhere else to be.

There had to be a way she could leave. While she hadn’t seen Mikos that morning, she suspected he was around.

“Or he has some kind of early warning alarm that would let him know I left,” she muttered.

Without warning, a small gray figure popped into view in front of her. “Hi ya, doll!”

An involuntary squeak escaped her. Lexi meet alarm.

“Damn it, Rocky,” she snarled. “Stop popping in and out like a freaking jumping bean.”

Rocky, aka the Rock, aka shapeshifter, aka pain-in-the-ass, came to rest on the chair’s arm. He put his hands on his hips and smiled, a cocky twist to his lips and unrepentant expression in his silver eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologized, sounding anything but.

The little prick.

“Where have you been?”

Rocky flopped down, exhaling a weary sigh. “On an errand for Michael. I’m tired.” He cocked his head. “Got anything to eat?”

Lexi patted the blanket and snorted. “Sorry, I don’t seem to have any stones to share.”

The grating sound emanating from Rocky surprised her. What the hell was that? She peered at the little figure. Was he laughing?

“That’s good, doll. Stones,” he snickered. “You slay me.”

“I might.”

Another grating sound.

“By the way,” she continued. “What’s with the doll comment? You a Cagney wannabe? Or a throwback from the twenties?”

“You don’t think I sound authentic?”

Lexi wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, actually, you do. Not bad at all.”

A broad grin stretched practically ear to ear. He jumped to his feet. “So, what’s up? The Phoenix got you whipped into shape?”

Lexi scowled. “First, no one is whipping me into shape. Second, you keep calling Mikos the Phoenix. What is that? Some kind of affectionate nickname?”

A pained expression crossed the craggy face. “Uh, no, well, I mean sort of.”

The words came to a stumbling halt. His feet scuffed the nap of the armrest. He exhibited all the classic signs of wishing he was someplace else.

Lexi tapped her foot and tilted her head. Showing her annoyance while seated in a plush chair and covered by a cozy throw should have been easy.

Somehow, she feared the effect was lost.

“Well?” she finally said when Rocky continued to twitch.

He sighed, then met her gaze. “The Phoenix is Mikos’s angel name. Sure, like a nickname.”

“I didn’t realize angels had nicknames.”

“Some do. The powerful ones.”

Hmm. So Mikos was a powerful angel. An unsurprising revelation. “So, how powerful is he?”

“He’s one of the top. In fact, if he had stayed, he might have been only second to Michael.”

“Michael?” Not the first time she’d heard that name. “As in Archangel Michael?”

“Yeah, him.”

A thought occurred to her. “What did you mean when you said if Mikos had stayed? Stayed where?”

“Well, you see—” he began.

“Rocky.” Threaded with a silken vein of warning, the voice cut into Rocky’s explanation. She knew that voice.

Mikos stood in the doorway, his icy gaze on the shapeshifter. He wore a charcoal duster over dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Inky hair looked tousled, as if he’d recently been in high wind. A folded newspaper peeked out from under his right arm.

His austere appearance reminded her of Neo in The Matrix. Yum. Solid strength and power fairly screamed from Mikos’s pores. Lexi looked away before she met his eyes.

She so didn’t want a repeat of the effect he seemed to have on her. Bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop her libido. She didn’t need his encouragement.

Rocky bent his head. “Sorry, boss,” he mumbled.

“When you have eaten, I expect a report.”

“Sure, sure, no problem.” Without looking at Lexi or Mikos, Rocky blinked from view.

Well. Talk about someone being peeved about secrets. “What’s with the gloomy-gus appearance?” Lexi said, gesturing to Mikos’s attire. She met his eyes now that she had a hold on her emotions.

Right. Sure she did. Anybody want to sell her the Golden Gate Bridge?

Mikos turned and faced her. “Go change and meet me in the training room.”

Arrogant jerk. He didn’t wait for a response, just spun around and strode back out the door. Obviously he expected her to listen. Lexi grimaced.

Pushing aside the throw, she stood. Okay, fine. She’d do as he said. Not because he ordered her, but because she was tired of sitting on her ass. Physical exertion sounded like a good idea.

Thirty-minutes and fifteen seconds later, physical exertion sounded less like a good idea and more like torture. Lexi bent over, both hands on her thighs. Her chest heaved. Sweat, not the, er, delicate feminine kind, trickled down her temples and pooled in the valley of her breasts.

She straightened and wiped the moisture from her face. The bastard, she thought, fixing a baleful look at her tormentor.

In a short time, she’d learned more about defensive fighting than she’d ever thought she’d wanted to learn. When Mikos wasn’t kicking her ass, he kept up a near constant litany of how past defenders had saved the world. All he succeeded in doing was pissing her off. As if it made a difference what her supposed ancestors had done.

As much as these lessons in faith annoyed her, the constant hammering disrupted the joy she usually felt in sparring. The angel apparently had a stick up his ass since he came at her hard and fast.

During the last couple of days she’d held her ground, giving as good as she got. Mostly. Now it was apparent that Mikos ground her belief in her own abilities into the mats at his feet. Sure, she was good.

He was much, much better.

Lexi could already imagine the lovely blue and purple bruises she’d be sporting on her arms and legs.

Grudgingly, and only to herself, she admitted his behavior today increased her defensive ability. Still didn’t mean she enjoyed acting as a punching bag for a raging angel.

He lunged, aiming a rear punch at her jaw. Taken nearly off guard by his lightning fast movement, Lexi had just enough time to center her stance. As his fist neared, she thrust out her right arm, deflecting his arm downward.

At the same time, she pivoted on her left foot toward him, using the force of the pivot and deflecting arm to counterstrike.

Which never landed.

He twisted and broke free, flipping over backward and landing in a half-crouch.

That’s it. Grinding her teeth until she felt a twinge in her jaw, she launched her own offensive. Ignoring her various aching muscles, she shuffled forward with her rear foot. Her body shifted forward, snapping a front-leg straight kick at Mikos.

Which didn’t land either. Damn it!

He grabbed her kicking leg at the calf. Shit, she’d let anger rule her mind. Both froze. Lexi knew she could have attempted escape by closing the distance and wresting free. Didn’t matter. The important part was she’d allowed emotion to put her here.

Balancing on one leg, she glared at Mikos. Her gaze clashed with his. She fancied she could almost see sparks shooting from the pewter eyes. She was sure her amber ones matched his fury.

“What the hell is your problem?” she ground out the words between clenched teeth. She was tired, grumpy and muscles she didn’t know she had screamed. The last thing she felt like dealing with was a pissed off angel.

He released her leg. Lexi danced back, wanting some serious distance between her and the obviously disturbed man.

His face wiped of all expression, Mikos tilted his head. “My problem?”

“Don’t act stupid. I’ve been working with you for enough hours to know you are doing more than training. You are trying to beat the shit out of me. What gives?”

He held her glare for a moment, or two, then ran a hand through his dark locks. “Where is the Key?”

Lexi shot him a withering glance. “Are we back to this?” She strode over to the side table and snatched a towel, wiping the moisture from her temples and forehead. “Nothing’s changed, Mikos. I don’t know where it is.”

A slight flare of guilt reared its head. Had she even tried?

He joined her at the table, standing close enough she could see faint silver dancing in his pupils. And the trickle of liquid trailing a path from the hollow of his neck, down into the vee of the T-shirt beckoned for a taste. If she concentrated, she could almost taste the sweetly salty liquid.

Lexi sucked in a silent breath. For Pete’s sake. Her freaking libido was overreacting again. Of course, the fact her libido did anything at all was a source of concern. And aggravation.

As if he could read her wayward thoughts, Mikos’s jaw tensed and the corner of his lips twitched. Was he going to do his woo-woo thing? Or had he done it already, which accounted for her raging hormones? Freaking hormones that shouldn’t be doing anything, raging or otherwise.

He walked toward her and tossed the newspaper onto the table in front of her. “Page three.”

Lexi tilted her head, confusion warring with curiosity. So, secrets didn’t make him angry. It was whatever was in the newspaper. She studied his expression. Or, was that something else besides anger? Concern?

Fear?

She bent her head to the newspaper and flipped to page three. Shouting out its message in a full-page spread complete with pictures, an article titled King Solomon cavorted with Demons danced across the space. Dead center was two pictures.

The first was of a round jar sitting on a fan-shaped base. The photograph had a grainy appearance, like it wasn’t actually taken, but more as if was scanned from an old picture. Ornate handles, covered with curlicues, jutted from each side. She could barely make out the sigils covering the jar. The article named it the
carcera spiritus
, a prison for spirits. Demons.