Revolution (The Revelation Series Book 4) (2 page)

Gage’s expression turns lethal. “Do I look stupid, ma a'u o?”

After an awkward few moments, Issac angles his head toward the door but doesn’t make any effort to move. Gage grabs my hand and yanks me around the large man. As we pass, my arm briefly brushes Isaac’s, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to tingle. He just smirks.

Gage drags me through the steel door into a dark, long hallway. A loud buzzing sound emits from the one small, circular overhead light that’s tinted red, basking the corridor in a burgundy hue. Immediately, the smell of sulfur assaults my nose. I dig my heels into the old, thin black carpet on the floor.
Crap. I’m still not wearing shoes.
“Where the hell are we?”

“That’s a pretty close assessment, love.” Gage replies before turning to face me. “At the risk of sounding like the dark prince, in here, you stick by my side. Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t breathe, unless I permit it. This place is where darkness comes to play. Understood?”

I hold his intense gaze before giving in. It’s not like Gage to go all protector bossy on me.

“I’m not wearing shoes,” I point out.

Gage ignores the statement. Instead, he roughly snatches my hand again and continues to pull me along, forcing us further into the hall’s darkness.

“Why are we here?” I whisper.

“Christ. Don’t speak unless I speak to you, love,” he growls. “You want Elizabeth back? We do it my way. This is my way.”
Why do I get the feeling his way sucks?

This was not at all how this was supposed to go. Aggravated at the change in plans, I stop and rip my hand out of his hold so he’s forced to turn and look at me again. He does.

“Gag—” He cuts me off. With supernatural speed, Gage is in front of me, pinning me to the wall and caging me in with his arms. A shrewd smile crosses his lips as he dips his chin.

“I mean it, love. Not one word unless I give you permission,” he orders.

After a brief moment of defiance, I press my lips together to prove I can behave. Satisfied, he pushes off the wall and continues to maneuver us through the shadowy passage and up several flights of stairs.

As we walk, the dim vibrations of a bass flow through me, prompting my curiosity. There must be a nightclub on the other side of the wall.

I keep my eyes trained on Gage’s back while we make our way up the last set of stairs. A snow-white door sits at the top of the landing. The color seems out of place given all the deep burgundy and blacks from the stairwells and hallway decor.

Upon approach, I read
Media Nocte In Templo
spray-painted artistically across the entry. Before Gage knocks, the door swings open and my eyes meet a familiar pair of wild emerald green ones.
What the hell?

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she rasps out.

“Sorry we’re late, buttercup.” Gage feigns an apology.

Confused, I look to Gage and then to the pale girl blanketing her face with her long raven hair. The new purple highlights mixed into the glossy dark strands make Nassa, Sorceress of Prosperity, look effortlessly cool. They match her deep purple eyeliner. Longing for my own clothes, I take in her black converse sneakers, black skinny jeans and vintage band t-shirt.

What in the world is going on?
I’m about to ask, but a loud squawking noise interrupts my train of thought. At the sound, my focus shifts to a black crow sitting on the sorceress’ shoulder. Its wings are silky with sleek deep cobalt streaks running through the raven feathers.

“Noir, meet Eve, daughter of Heaven. Eve, my familiar, Noir.” Nassa introduces us.

I smirk awkwardly at the bird while it assesses me. My life just keeps getting more and more absurd. “You have a pet crow?” I stare at the animal in astonishment.

Gage shoots me a menacing look, probably for speaking out of turn. My eyes widen at him in apology as I motion with my hand that I’m zipping my mouth closed.
Fuck, he’s bossy.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him.” Nassa enlightens, reaching up and petting the creature.

“Isn’t he sort of a symbol for death?” I snort, causing the bird to caw at me.

“Christ, love.” I get an aggravated warning from Gage.

“Actually, crows are keepers of the sacred law. They can see our true soul self, representing transcendence. They’re also extremely smart and loyal.” Nassa justifies.

I arch my brow in skepticism. “Pretty sure Alfred Hitchcock would disagree.”

At my reference, she rolls her eyes. “If it helps you sleep at night, they mate for life, sunbathe, and can count to six.” The quirky girl explains these points as if they will win me over.

“Fascinating,” I reply warily.

“Noir is simply my familiar, like Malefica, aunt Lunette’s spotted panther,” she adds.

I’d forgotten Nassa was the niece of the eccentric Sorceress Lunette. A member of the Sorceresses of the Black Circle, and one of the Supernatural Royal Court members, as well as, the guardian of the scroll of divination. Oh, and a tantric sex hobbyist who pierced my mate in the most private of spots. My lips tilt at the vision of the slim, blonde haired witch.

“Are you going to invite us in, buttercup?” Gage winks seductively from the doorway.

Nassa glares at him, irritated at the nickname, before stepping aside and motioning us into another hallway.
Odd
. Before we enter, Nassa steps up to Gage angrily.

“For the record, Gallagher, your mere presence makes me want to puke,” she quips.

Gage just stares at her with a blank expression before leaning toward her ear to speak quietly.

“Gallagher, huh? It’s nice to see you got my name right this time, buttercup. I loathe being confused with God.
Oh God…please
,” he says in a low, seductive voice.

My eyes slide closed.
Well, crap. That can’t be unheard.

Nassa releases a raspy, deep laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Gallagher. I was just surprised.
Oh God, is that all there is
,” she mouths off as I beg the floor to open up and swallow me.

Gage rolls his neck, allowing the loud cracks of his straining bones and muscles to echo off the walls. He ignores her smart remark and snatches my hand, yanking me hard into the corridor as I stumble over my feet.

“Eve needs to clean up. Maybe an outfit and some shoes. Can you help before she meets him?” Gage grits out.

“If you’d release your overprotective grip on her, I’ll get right on that,” Nassa retorts.

“Love, go with Nassa. You have ten minutes.” He releases my hand.

I go to say something snarky, but Gage’s face morphs into one of caution.
Damn my promise to keep my mouth shut.
Instead, I follow the sorceress into a backroom, where she roughly throws a duffle bag at me. Rummaging thought it I find it’s filled with my own clothes and products, as well as my favorite shoes. My eyes meet hers in question.

“How did you get my things?” I ask.

“Gallagher told me about your little escape plan, so I packed some items I thought you’d need.” She points a dark purple, polished index finger behind me. “There’s a bathroom through that door to freshen up. No offense but you smell like vomit,” she states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah…well, you smell like crow,” I come back with.

Her face scrunches. “That isn’t even an insult. You need to spend more time with Kenna.”

I ignore the dig and snatch the bag off the floor then head into the bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, I’m clean and in my own clothes, shoes and all.

I open the door to see Nassa sitting on a couch, magazine in hand. Noir stares at me with his beady bird eyes.
Creepy.

“Why didn’t you have that thing with you when you were at the summit in London?” I ask.

“Noir doesn’t like flying,” she answers in an even tone, not looking at me.

I study her for a moment to see if she’s joking. She’s not.
Is she serious? She has a pet bird that doesn’t like to fly. Awesome.
“Where are we?” I change topics.

“Didn’t Gallagher warn you not to speak or ask questions?” She watches me.

“He did. I thought since we know one another, you might be a little more forthcoming with information. My mistake.” I shift uncomfortably, while she refocuses on the glossy pages of the fashion magazine. “Are you and Gage an item now, or something?”

Nassa sighs. “New York. You’re in Manhattan. And no we’re not.”

I drop the bag holding my dirty outfit and nod in appreciation. “Thanks.”

She lifts her gaze and studies me for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I think what you did to Asher was pretty shitty. I’m willing to bet he kills you. Painfully. That said I totally respect why you did it. I’d do anything to keep my mom safe. So we’re cool. You and me.”

I swallow the painful lump forming in my throat. “Good to know,” I whisper.

Her eyes float around the storage room. “This is my uncle’s club, The Midnight Temple. That’s what the Latin graffiti on the door translates into.”

“Why did Gage bring me here?” I sit down on the worn couch next to her.

Twisting so she can see me, Nassa shrugs. “Probably because my uncle’s a demon lord.”

I knit my brows. “A what?”

“Demon lord. It’s the same as an archangel only for the other team.”

“Your uncle is a demon? I thought you were a sorceress?” I accuse.

“My mom is a sorceress. My dad, Mammon, holds a high position within the demon world. To avoid the look you’re giving me now, I tend to play up the sorceress side. It’s less…freakish. I make more friends that way,” she throws out with a look of irritation.

“Mammon… Your dad is the demon of greed?” I question in a high-pitched voice.

“You’re in no position to judge. Your dad is
the
warrior of Heaven,” she retaliates.

“Sorry,” I murmur and sink into the couch.
“
Wait, how do you know about Michael?”

“Noir can see your true soul. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Nassa ensures.

“Forgive my mistrust but my ability to read people’s motives isn’t what it used to be.”

“I have nothing to gain by ratting you out, Eve. I live with my mother and the Sorceresses of the Black Circle. My allegiance is to them. I haven’t seen my dad, or my uncle, in a very long time. Nor do I care to engage in what their side believes to be truth,” she explains.

“If your dad is Mammon, who’s your uncle?” I question, not really wanting to know.

“The King of the Nine Hells, one of the original seven princes of Hell. Known to most as the demon of lust,” Nassa answers, holding my eyes.

“Actually, my dear niece, my claim to fame is that I penned the contract of creation,” a baritone intonation cascades over us from the doorway.

At the interruption, both Nassa and I become rigid, shifting our focus to the voice.

“Eve, meet my uncle, Asmodeus.”

2
One World Away

THE HAIRS ON THE BACK OF MY NECK stand at attention and a strange vibration floats through my veins as the very attractive Asmodeus enters the room. He looks more like a rockstar than a demon lord. I open my mouth to speak but Gage shoots me a harsh look of warning behind the sinfully good-looking demon of lust.

Asmodeus’s tall, long-limbed, muscular body is outfitted in black leather pants, heavy black boots, and a white button down shirt that sits under a black blazer. The shirt’s top buttons are open to reveal a taut chest. It’s loose at the sleeves, showing off the beginnings of his tattooed arms.

The fortyish-year-old lord trains his black irises on me. The heated judgment makes me shift uncomfortably. The demon’s eyes aren’t warm, but they’re not cold either. They’re calculating and penetrating, like with one look, he can see all your deepest desires and use them against you as a weapon. His presence is unsettling. Asmodeus provides me with a charmingly pouty smile, which I’m sure has been the reason for him bedding many a female.

“Stop ogling my uncle. It’s disturbing,” Nassa whispers, pulling me out of my trance.

“Shit. Sorry.” I snap my eyes away, not realizing how long I’d been gawking.

“It’s a pity that your gargoyle’s eye color stains your beauty,” he coos. “I’ll give the dark prince credit, though. The taking of one’s innocence is fucking sexy.” His tone is seductive.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I shoot back.

“Love,” Gage reprimands.

“Sex is my business. I happen to dabble in carnal desire.” The demon’s eyes roam over my body in a non-friendly manner. The hunger in his look makes my skin crawl.

“I think you might be the creepy uncle in the family,” I say, unable to hold my tongue.

The demon lord releases a deep, rich laugh. “She’s appealing, Gallagher, even with the dark prince’s scent all over her,” he says as his eyes sparkle in amusement. “I’ve been called worse things than creepy in my time. Besides, thou shall not pass judgment so quickly, daughter of Heaven. You have yet to meet my brothers. I’d be happy to make the introductions if that is what you so desire.” He drops his tone in an attempt to enthrall me.

“That isn’t why we’re here, Asmodeus,” Gage cautions.

“Unfortunate. Come.” He motions to the door. “Let’s discuss business in my office. There are other things I prefer to do in the storage room with a beautiful woman. It’s distracting.”

Nassa rolls her eyes at her uncle’s insinuation and stands to follow him. Gage motions to me that we too are to trail the rock-God demon.

Asmodeus leads us through a set of glass doors into an office that has black walls decorated with more graffiti artwork. Overhead lighting has been designed to highlight the spray-painted scrawl as if it were museum quality art.

Nassa, myself, and Gage take a seat on a velvet sectional and Asmodeus sits across from us in one of the leather winged backed chairs. A circular coffee table, placed on an animal-print fur rug, provides a false sense of distance from the intimidating demon lord.

“What do you think of my lair?” He locks eyes with me.
Is he wearing eyeliner?

“I’m shocked that there isn’t a heart-shaped bed with a ceiling mirror,” I retort.

My snide remark invites Asmodeus’ lips to pull in a smirk. “I understand my boss has something of value to you, Miss Collins.” He runs his long fingers through his wavy, neck-length, black hair before lifting his heavy boots, crossing them at the ankles, and placing them on the glass coffee table. Gone is the charming seducer. In its place is a cold demon king.

I stiffen at the statement.

Gage sits back on the couch, in an attempt to appear more relaxed. “He does. We’d like to retrieve it.” The protector’s tone doesn’t match his demeanor.

Nassa’s uncle purses his lips. “You can’t,” he says plainly.

“It…has a name. Elizabeth is a person, not an object. Regardless of what you say, I will get her back. I’m planning to exchange myself for her,” I offer with a bite in my tone.

The demon laughs as if I told him the funniest joke he’d heard in his life.

My brow arches. “Did I say something funny, your highness?”

At my pointed assertion, Asmodeus’ expression hardens. “It’s my lord. You think an ancient demon, such as Lucifer, wants a little human girl with a few extra gifts? Stupid child. You are of no concern to him, heavenly weapon or not. Somehow you’ve been misled to believe that you are more significant to our kind than your mundane life actually is.”

“If that’s true, then why is the dark army hunting me so persistently?” I question.

The demon shifts in his chair and shrugs. “Don’t be fooled, daughter of Heaven. Your existence is of no consequence to my boss. Your creation is simply one more hypercritical stab in the back. Obtaining you, and ending your life, is a statement. A show of declaration.”

“What does Lucifer want then?” Gage asks from my left.

“War,” Asmodeus replies harshly.

My eyes shift to Gage and then back to the demon. “Attaining me is an end to the war.”

“Wrong,” the demon barks. “Securing you is a strategy. Elizabeth is already dead. You’re wasting your time, daughter of Heaven,” he says with distain lining his voice.

My jaw clenches at his declaration. “You lie. She’s not dead,” I spit out.

The demon’s lips twitch at my outburst. “Are you sure?”

“Without doubt,” I reply, keeping my voice low and steady, ignoring the sudden wave of fear that runs through my veins from his words. Instead, I try to appear calm and in control.

“I’ve entertained you long enough. My debt is repaid, Gage. She asked her questions and is leaving unharmed. Make a note that I won’t extend that courtesy again. Now, Eve, unless you’re planning to assert your free will and allow me to take you back to the storage room to fuck the dark prince right out of you, I’ll ask you to leave.”

Asmodeus folds his hands behind his head, challenging me with his eyes to respond to his harsh words and vulgar behavior. I’m about to tell the demon where he can go but Nassa intercedes before I can form words.

“She meant no disrespect, Uncle. Eve’s simply upset about her mother and the insinuation of Elizabeth’s death. Right?” Nassa’s annoyed expression shifts to me.

After a short standoff with the sorceress, I give in. “Right,” I whisper the lie.

“Elizabeth is dead because our side doesn’t believe in divine mercy. Does that make us evil? Perhaps. As I understand, she has the love of the warrior of Heaven, which makes her an enemy in times of war,” the demon king rationalizes.

My eyes flash with anger. “She’s an innocent person who’s being used as a pawn in a war that is not hers to fight,” I argue.

“Regardless. We’re done here. I will provide no assistance in the return of Elizabeth or her corpse. Gallagher, the next time you bring a beautiful woman into my temple, be sure she’s prepared to get on her knees.” The demon vanishes, leaving the three of us in silence.

“Charming.” I sigh.
I think Nassa’s family is even more fucked up than mine.

Gage cuts an irate glare my way. “I do believe I told you not to speak, love.”

“You wanted me to just sit back and allow him to insult me?” I defend my actions.

“He’s a demon. It’s part of their personality. Asmodeus’ assistance would have been extremely helpful to your cause,” Gage explains. “We’ve now wasted the last two hours.”

“What now, Gallagher,” Nassa interrupts.

“Now, we go back to plan A. I exchange my life for my mother’s,” I answer.

“No, love.” Gage stands at his full height, trying to intimidate me.

I stand and step to him, placing my hands on my hips. “It’s the only way.”

“Did you not hear a word Asmodeus just said,” Gage replies angrily.

“She isn’t dead,” I snap.

Gage holds my gaze, disbelief marring his expression. I can see that he believes she’s already dead. Deep within my gut though I know she’s not. I would feel the loss.
Wouldn’t I?

“Eve needs training. Demon training.” Nassa’s gruff voice cuts through the tension.

“What?” Gage and I turn to her and ask at the same time.

“If Eve believes her mother is still alive, then we’ll assume she is.” Nassa pins Gage with a hard glare before sliding her focus to me. “You can’t just walk into Hell, Eve, and demand Elizabeth. An ancient demon would kill you within seconds with a simple look.” Her eyes run the length of me. “No offense,” she adds.

“None taken,” I say insincerely.

She rolls her eyes. “Like it or not, Eve, it’s true.”

“Buttercup is right,” Gage enters the conversation. “The training the St. Michaels have impaired on you will not be the same as full-on demon training, love.”

Nassa steps to my side. “I have some friends here in the city that might be able to help. They’re of the…demon variety. If they agree, I would need assurance they wouldn’t be hurt. Wherever we train, it would have to be neutral territory.”

“Can we find a place?” I inquire with Gage.

The gargoyle exhales a frustrated breath. After a few uncomfortable moments in silence he realizes neither Nassa, nor I, will be backing down and gives into our request.

“I’ll reach out to the Manhattan clan and see if Marcus will host us,” Gage offers.

“How long will that take?” I ask in desperation.

Gage shrugs. “Not long to contact Marcus, love.”

“I meant the training?” I correct.

“As long as it takes before you’re ready,” Gage answers with a harsh look, ending my hopes of a quick entrance into the depths of Hell to retrieve my mother.
Crap
.

“Yes or no, Eve?” Nassa poses.

After I mull it over, I dip my chin. “I’ll agree to the training delay on one condition.”

Gage’s brows rise to his hairline. “What’s that?”

“Tell me why you call Nassa buttercup.” I pin him with a stare.

Gage’s panty-dropping smile appears. “I’m not a kiss-and-tell kind of gentleman, love.”

He pulls out a cigarette and his cell phone to call Marcus. My eyes meet Nassa’s in awkward curiosity. She swallows hard while watching Gage’s back retreat into the hallway.

“I may have been in an altered state of vodka induced consciousness,” she defends.

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “Oh. My. God. You totally slept with him!”

“It was one time.” She shifts uncomfortably, causing Noir to squawk.

Her agitation triggers an unstoppable laughing fit to fall out of me.

Nassa rolls her eyes and walks past me to the doorway. “He has a nice ass.”

Her admission causes me to laugh harder.

***

I fidget in the back seat of the black SUV. It’s night and the tinted windows make it difficult to see outside as we drive to Marcus’s building. The leader of the Manhattan clan of gargoyles lives in the historic Ansonia building on the upper west side.

Gage pulls into an expansive, well-lit underground garage. Once parked, my nerves sky rocket. The last time I saw Marcus was in London at the summit that Keegan, Asher’s older brother, organized to discuss war preparation with the other realms.

During the high-level meeting, we learned Marcus’s second in command, and an old friend of the London clan, Morgana, was working with the Declan clan. She assisted Deacon’s mate, Jade, by setting me up in an attempt to turn me over to Lucifer.

In the end, it was Morgana’s life that was taken that day. Before she turned to stone, the beautiful gargoyle mouthed the identity of the real traitor to me. A name I’m harboring from everyone until Michael confirms its validity. My breath hitches as I think of how this will affect Asher.

Nassa grabs Noir’s cage and we exit the vehicle before walking through a set of glass doors, which open into a glamorous lobby. After we approach the concierge, Gage provides our names and the pretty girl behind the desk points down a wide marble corridor designed with delicate paneling and mirrored inlays.

My eyes never leave the black and white tiled floor as we make our way to a set of posh elevators. A few moments later, the elevator dings, alerting us of our arrival on Marcus’s floor.
Breathe, Eve
.

We step out into an entryway designed with a mix of modern and classic furniture sitting on what appears to be original herringbone hardwood floors. I take in the eccentricity of the oversized gilded silver mirror facing us from behind a wooden table.

“Eve. Gage. Nassa. Welcome to my home.” The striking protector smiles kindly at us as we enter his residence. Relief floods me at his affectionate greeting.

“Hi, Marcus,” I say and fold myself into his safe embrace. “It’s so good to see you.”

The gargoyle’s tall frame relaxes at my statement. “Daughter of Heaven, you are welcome here anytime.” He kisses the top of my head. “That’s not an invitation out of guilt at what occurred with Morgana. That’s an invitation out of friendship and love for you, Eve.”