The Judas Relic: An Evangeline Heart Holiday Adventure (8 page)

Malcolm’s hand brushed my shoulder and he asked a thousand questions with a lift of a single eyebrow.

I nodded, knowing that everything would be okay now. I had all my pieces here with me and for this slice of time, short and borrowed though it might be, I didn’t have anything to worry about.

Malcolm moved beside Ralph and answered his offer for a drink. “Don’t mind if I do. I appreciate your hospitality.”

Anna and I stood side by side in the foyer, then she took my hand and patted the back of it. “Never-ending, isn’t it dear, taking care of these boys.”

I smiled. “That’s no kidding.”

“Let’s check on your other one, then.”

The kitchen was cozy and after a round of introductions, Clay shared a brandy with Ralph and Malcolm. Anna and I decided that wine was more our speed for the evening’s festivities.

As I took a sip of red wine and sat down at the dinner table, Clay sat next to me. Marvin plopped right down at Clay’s feet. Malcolm sat across for us and I’m certain he had quite a few questions as to the nature of my relationship with Clay. I would have to assure him that it was nothing more than a partnership. Ralph sat at the head of the table with Anna by his side. It was more family together than I’d had in years—not my born-into family of course—not even one I’d chosen, but better, one that had chosen me.

Clay and I both looked at each other in surprise when the sound of clear and beautiful voices could be heard along the river Thames just across from Ralph and Anna’s neighborhood. The song was, of course, “Silent Night.”
 

“You okay?” I asked Clay.

His gaze flickered to my eyes. “I’m perfect. You?”

“Not half bad. Merry Christmas, Clay.” I held up my wine glass.

“Merry Christmas, Lina.” He clinked my glass with his.

Ralph then raised his glass. “Merry Christmas to all.”

We each returned the toast and for the next few hours, I found the solace and peace that only Christmas can bring, with people I never expected to celebrate such a revered day with. Oddly enough though, I really didn’t want to be anywhere else.

To be continued in:

The God Game

A.K. Alexander & Jen Greyson

Coming February 17, 2015!

Keep reading for a sneak preview.

Extras

God Game

Chapter One

And, behold, one of them which were with Jesus stretched out his hand, and drew his sword, and struck a servant of the high priest's, and smote off his ear. Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. —
Matthew 26:51-52
 

I relaxed into the stylist’s chair. This was a well-deserved luxury and one I didn’t do often. Most of the time my dark hair stayed in a simple ponytail to keep it contained and out of my way. Today’s decadence was a nice reprieve from recent events. I still had a hard time stringing together that a few short months ago, I’d come home from my fiancé’s funeral to be drawn into a search for a trio of relics that together, would open a gate to Hell. Oh, and the guy calling the shots? The earthly man, Enoch, who ascended into Heaven to become the archangel, Metatron.

Mika, my stylist, drew a round brush through my damp hair and flicked on the hairdryer, plunging me into a welcome sound bubble of my own thoughts. Metatron wasn’t letting me tackle this mission by myself though. Oh, no… He’d given me a
fantastic
assembly of a team. I had a scholar as ancient as the religious relics he knew as well as the liver spots on his own hand—though with his slipping mind, my confidence level of his wisdom slipped daily, but he made up for those memory gaps with a fierce fervor for this cause. He knew everything there was to know about the Book of Enoch, Metatron’s personal bible of all things heavenly, earthly, and below.
 

Then there was Clay, my partner-in-crime and a brilliant, yet flippant thief who didn’t take anything serious, except maybe the day’s fantasy football picks. Rounding out the stellar grouping was my aging mentor, currently recovering from hip surgery. He’d brought me up and recruited me into the “family business” of assassins for hire.
 

We were a motley crew, to be certain. But based on what I’d seen so far and what I feared lay in store for us, we might just be the best equipped to succeed.

I sighed and tried to let the tension melt from my body. To say I deserved a day at the spa was the understatement of the year. While Mika’s hairdryer cocooned me in a blanket of warmth and the brush tickled my scalp, I let my thoughts wander to Griffin, my fiancé, murdered in retaliation for my hired kill of a South Asian leader—or so I’d thought. With every new rock we’d turned over, I’d learned that not everything that had happened in my life was quite what I’d been told and Griffin’s death was only the first lie. The Angel of Death, Azazel—a former archangel in his own right—had intercepted Griffin’s soul. They’d boosted it like a painting and carted it off to hell, trapped him there and as his soul mate, I was the only one who could save him. Griffin’s holy soul—was a hot commodity apparently and Azazel was currently trapped in a prison of his own making, he’d steal whatever he needed to be set free.

Or so he thought. I’d already dealt with his number one guy, Harrold, a foot soldier sent to keep me from succeeding. But they’d underestimated me. Badly. And I would not fail Griffin… Not this time.

We’d already found the first relic, the ring of Solomon, along with a handful of items that we hoped would prove their importance soon. We had a rock from the Garden of Gethsemane, where Judas betrayed Jesus, two of the silver pieces that Judas had been paid in recompense for the betrayal, and a knife once thought to be possessed of powers that shielded a high priest from bad angels. My weaponry was as eclectic as my teammates… We had yet to see which was more useful—or the bigger liability.

Next on the agenda was relic number two and that was going to require the team to walk straight back into danger. All we knew was that the actual relic was another weapon used that night in the Garden, the sword that Simon Peter—Jesus’s right hand—had used against one of the soldiers that night when they came for Jesus. (He lopped a dude’s ear clean off!) From what Clay and I had been able to figure out—and he was definitely better versed in the religious relics—the sword had disappeared that night, lost in the fray of the events of the next few days and never really talked about, forsaken for the “trendier” relics like the shroud, the chalice from dinner earlier in the evening, and even bits of the cross.

I’d wondered a lot over the last few months at the
simplicity
of the relics we’d found so far. Solomon’s ring held legendary status as holding the power to control demons, so that at least made a little sense as something that might open a gate to hell, but a stone? A knife? A sword? I thought for sure we were going after a holy set of keys, not a bunch of weaponry. But what did I know about opening the gates of hell, maybe that was exactly the kind of thing that opened them.

I hadn’t seen Metatron since a few days before Christmas, and he’d been as stingy as ever with details and clues. All he’d parted with was our next location—Greece. I assumed I was overdue for a visit from the archangel, but I figured he’d come see me as soon as he wanted to send us back on the trail. We had a limited amount of time to retrieve Griffin’s soul—apparently it was being stained by evil and the longer he stayed, the less he’d be like himself by the time I got him out of hell.

Mika finished and spun me around. I looked a little more like myself, except fancier. I met his eyes and smiled. He’d done far more for me today than just managing a few split ends. “Thank you so much.”
 

“You’re so very welcome. Don’t be such a stranger next time.” He flipped the ends of my hair forward, drawing my attention back to my own image. My dark hair fell in waves past my shoulders and before I’d left the house, I’d swiped a bit of mascara so I had lashes to frame my blue eyes, and gloss for a hint of pink across my lips. It hadn’t been much, but enough of an improvement that I looked less like a hired assassin cum relic hunter.

I pushed up out of the chair and grabbed my purse, but when I looked up to follow Mika he was frozen in place.

And not because I’d stunned him into silence with my good looks. The entire salon was frozen in time, one of Metatron’s fun tricks that he used when he showed up.
 

With a flair worthy of the high-priced salon, the archangel strode through the front doors, looking elegant and striking in his black suit, blond hair perfectly in place, and impeccably groomed. He grinned and held out both hands to me like we were fast friends. “Good morning, darling. This look becomes you.”

I arched an eyebrow and took a step back, dodging his grip. “Metatron. I’ve been expecting you.”

He looked me up and down but I did not fidget beneath his scrutiny. “You appear prepared for the next level of your journey.”

That wasn’t exactly true. For the last three weeks I’d sat on my couch, staring at my blank TV trying to decide if I should watch the recording he’d given me. One I’d watched a single time, coming away overwhelmed and distraught at the imagery that had catalogued my mother’s gruesome death at the hands of my new enemy, Harrold, a man taught and trained by the Angel of Death himself. The problem wasn’t watching the horrific act, it was the lies Harrold had fed me right before Metatron had agreed to give me the recording, and there was just enough of a hint of truth in them that I was deeply troubled by how much I could trust Metatron. I rarely put my trust in anyone, but I’d eagerly—and blindly—swallowed up every detail Metatron had given, wanting—
needing—
the information about my Mom and what had happened to her after she’d made me flee to safety that dark, awful night so many years ago.

I knew better than to let fear keep me from the truth… but knowing it and doing something about it was keeping me paralyzed. Considering that the archangel was an integral part of my success as well as a huge source of information, even a hint of distrust in him compromised my mission.
 

For now though, I needed to pretend so that he would give me the intel I needed to keep this going and moving forward. I swallowed and nodded, gripping my purse tightly. “
We’re
ready. Ralph says we have to find the sword, and you say we have to go to Greece. Tell me what to do.”

Chapter Two

With the world restarted and my mission tucked under my arm like my purse, I headed out the salon to find Clay—the thief, and travel with him to London to see Ralph—the scholar. I turned the corner at 56th and halted.

Two storefronts down, Clay was already at our meeting place, but he had one hand pressed into the stone wall above the head of a too-young-for-him blonde. She had her red fingernails curled into the front of his tight T-shirt and I huffed. Then I made myself take a deep breath. What did I care if he was dating a college co-ed, as long as he could stay focused on the upcoming task?

I leaned my shoulder into the wall and waited, hoping he’d finish up and send her on her way. While the afternoon sun heated the top of my head, I watched him, troubled that I had any sort of reaction to the way his lips moved while he talked to her. For a thief, he was well-built, with a trim physique that probably suited him well as he descended ropes and climbed through windows. He still hadn’t bothered to get a haircut, so now his light curls edged over the tops of his ears, and flared out at his nape. Today, his navy T-shirt stopped just above the curve of his bicep, which he’d matched with a pair of dark washed jeans that nicely accented the curve of his ass—if I cared, which I didn’t.

He kissed the blonde slowly and leisurely, then turned her and squeezed her butt as she walked to the waiting cab. When he glanced up at me, the cocky grin was enough to yank me away from any attraction I felt for him—which I didn’t.

“Hey,” he said, opening the door to the small deli where we’d agreed to meet.

“Hi yourself.”

“Oh good, I was hoping you’d be your normal friendly self.”

I ignored his barb and smiled at the hostess, holding up two fingers. “Two please.”

She led us to a table in the far corner and I rearranged the chairs, sitting with my back to the wall and facing both exits.

He shook his head and plopped into the chair opposite me, lanky and relaxed. “Doesn’t that get old, thinking someone is always after you?”

“No. And after the attempt on your life in London, I’d think maybe you’d start. Have you eaten?” I lifted my menu, hiding the burn in my cheeks that was seriously frustrating me. He’d been so cute and jovial with that girl, but he poked and prodded me incessantly, always trying to aggravate me. He was like a sliver I couldn’t dig out from under my skin. I shouldn’t care, but I did. I liked being around him too much for my own good, especially since this entire mission surrounded my barely-dead fiancé’s soul.

“Hey.” He put his index finger on the top of my menu and pulled it down. I tried to push it back up, but he held it. “You look pretty today.”

I glanced up, then back down at the day’s specials. “Thanks.”

He took the menu away and tucked it beneath his folded arms on the table. “What’s eating you?”

I cleared my throat and looked at him. “Metatron just came to see me.”

He frowned. “Damn. I wanted to be there again.” His gaze skimmed my lips and the soft curls in my hair. “You really do look pretty. But something else is bothering you, what’s up?”

I shook my head. No way was I going to even hint that I cared about the kiss he’d shared with that girl. “Nothing. Let’s eat and then we need to head out to Ralph’s.” I glanced around the mostly deserted deli, still wary about being overheard, though we had a lot to discuss. I credited that loose end for my unease. “I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You sure that’s all that’s bugging you?”

Luckily, the waitress showed up and I concealed the hint of heat warming up my face with a long drink of water and ordered my meal. Clay and I had been through a fair share of crazy over the last few months, including attempts on both our lives, and I was sure it was that shared experience that was affecting me, not any sort of attraction. But either way, I needed to get that under control and focus on our upcoming mission. Metatron had promised it would be much more difficult than the last and I had to be at my best.