Eve of Chaos (2 page)

Dinner
tonight?
he asked.

After that
wisecrack, cocky bastard?

I’ll cook.

She followed her
mom, keeping an eye on her quarry.
If I’m still alive, sure.

In the back of
her mind, she heard and felt Alec Cain—Reed’s brother—growl his disapproval.
Alec was her mentor. Once known as Cain of Infamy, he was now Cain the
Archangel. She and Alec had a history together, starting ten years ago when
she’d given him her virginity. Nowadays, his position as archangel had stripped
him of the ability to have an emotional attachment to anything other than God,
but Alec held on to her anyway.

What means
more?
he had asked her.
When
someone wants you because he can’t help it? Because of hormones or some
chemical reaction in the brain? Or when he wants you because he chooses to want
you? Because he makes the conscious decision to want you?

Eve didn’t know,
so she was drifting along with him, trying to figure it out.

She was
certifiably insane for stepping in the middle of the oldest case of sibling
rivalry in history, especially since the three of them shared a unique bond
that allowed a free flow of thought between them. Eve often asked herself why
she played with fire. The only answer she came up with was that she just
couldn’t help herself.

I’m calling
dibs on breakfast tomorrow,
Alec
insisted gruffly.

One-Eyed
Jacks?
No one cooked them like Alec.
Grilled pieces of bread with a hole in the middle to hold a fried egg. Buttery
and crispy, and served with syrup. He also toasted the centers and sprinkled
them with cinnamon-sugar to serve on the side. Delicious.

Whatever you
want, angel.

It was a given
that Reed wouldn’t be around for breakfast, since dating two men at once meant
that all three of them were sleeping alone at night.

The
yuki-onna
excused herself from her handsome companion and moved toward the gymnasium,
taking the tiny steps dictated by the tight fit of her kimono and the
geta
wooden
clogs on her feet. Eve was at an advantage with her attire. Her stretchy capris
and ribbed cotton tank top didn’t impede her range of movement at all. Her
Army-issue “jungle boots” were breathable and functional. She was ready to
rock. But that didn’t mean she wanted to.

“I have to wash
my hands,” Eve said to her mother, knowing that as a retired registered nurse,
Miyoko would appreciate the need for cleanliness.

“I have
antibacterial gel in my purse.”

Eve wrinkled her
nose. “Yuck. That stuff makes my hands sticky.”

“You’re too
fussy. How many dangos you want?”

“Three sticks.”
The rice cake dumplings were grilled on wooden skewers and coated with sweet
syrup. They were a childhood favorite that Eve enjoyed too rarely, which
aggravated her disgruntlement. If the demon ruined her appetite, there would be
Hell to pay. Seriously.

Eve handed over
a twenty-dollar bill, then set off in pursuit of her prey.

She overtook the
demon and entered the gym where picnic tables had been arranged to provide
seating for diners. Dozens of festival-goers filled the vast space with echoing
revelry—laughing, conversing in both English and Japanese, and eating. Mortals
mingled with Infernal beings in blissful ignorance, but Eve noted every one of
Hell’s denizens. In return, they knew what she was and they eyed her with wary
hatred. The mark on her deltoid betrayed her, as did her scent. As rotten as
they stunk to her, she smelled sickly sweet to them. Ridiculous really, since
there was no such thing as a sweet Mark. They were all bitter.

Tucking herself
against the wall, she watched through the tinted glass doors as the
yuki-onna
approached. From the forward vantage, Eve could see the demon’s feet
hovering just above the ground. Backing up slowly, Eve rounded the corner to
stay out of sight. A glass case was mounted to the wall at her shoulder,
displaying trophies and a lone katana within its lighted interior.

Eve glanced
around quickly, noting the distraction of the rest of the gym’s occupants. With
superhuman speed, she pinched off the round metal lock with thumb and
forefinger, and withdrew the sheathed blade. She held it tucked between her
thigh and the wall, hoping it was more than a decoration. If not, she could
always summon the classic flame-covered sword. But she’d rather not. Buildings
had a nasty habit of catching fire around her, and she had greater

proficiency with
the sleeker, moderately curved “samurai sword” than she did with the heavier
glaive.

Her prey entered
the gym and turned in the opposite direction, heading toward the restrooms just
as Eve had guessed she would. Closing the women’s bathroom while food and drink
were present in copious quantities was always a bad idea, but Eve didn’t have a
choice. Her mother was waiting, and she couldn’t risk losing her target.

Her present
dilemma was one of the many reasons why Marks weren’t supposed to have family
ties. The sinners who were chosen were usually loners easily transplanted to
foreign soil. Relatives were a liability. Eve was the sole exception to the
rule. Alec had fought to keep her close to home because he knew how much her
parents meant to her. He was also motivated by guilt, since their indiscretion
ten years ago was the reason she was marked today.

The wheels of
justice didn’t turn any faster in Heaven than they did on Earth.

When the
bathroom door swung shut behind the demon, Eve followed. The mark throbbed hot
and heavy within the skin covering her deltoid, pumping aggression and fury
through her veins. Her muscles thickened and her stride altered. Her body’s
reaction was base and animalistic, the surge of bloodlust brutal and addicting.
She had come to crave it like a drug. Too much time between kills, and she
became short tempered and twitchy.

Despite the
rush, her heartbeat and hands remained steady. Her body was a temple now, and
it ran like a machine. As she entered the bathroom, Eve was calm and focused.
When had she become so at ease with her murderous secondary life? She would
have to ponder that later, when she had some privacy and time to cry.

All of the stall
doors were slightly ajar, except for the handicapped one at the far end of the
room. The stench of decaying soul permeated the space. Affixed to the wall near
the door was a tube that held a collapsible Wet Floor sign. She tugged it free
and set it outside in the hallway, then closed the door and turned the lock. It
wasn’t quite as useful as an Out of Order cone, but it would have to do.

There was no way
to stave off the sudden deluge of memories of another bathroom, one in which
she had fought a dragon and paid with her life. She’d been resurrected to kill
another day because of a deal Alec had made with someone, somewhere. She didn’t
know the details, but she knew the cost had to be steep. If she hadn’t been in
love with him already, his willingness to make that kind of sacrifice would
have sealed the deal. She wasn’t ready to die just yet, despite demon killing
and a crazy love life.

One day she
hoped to marry and have children, enjoy a successful career and family
vacations. But she would have to shed the mark first—either by manipulating
someone in power or by collecting enough indulgences to work off her penance.

Of course, there
were loopholes in the indulgence system. She’d killed the teenage son of the
Black Diamond Pack Alpha werewolf
twice,
but had only been given credit
for the second kill. Bullshit like that really got under her skin. What was a
girl supposed to do when even God didn’t play fair?

A soft whimper
arrested Eve midstride. The sound had a high, trembling note that sounded
childlike. She rolled her shoulders back and waited. Hunting was less about the
pounce than it was about positioning. She stood dead center in the most open
space in the room. The exit was at her back. The Infernal had no way out but
through her. Damned if she would move just to hurry things up a bit.

The mark
continued to flood her with adrenaline and hostility. Her senses honed in on
her prey, flooding her mind with information. Her stance widened.

“Come out, come
out wherever you are..
.“
she crooned.

The lock on the
handicapped stall turned. The door pulled inward. A child’s face appeared, wan and
tear streaked. A pretty girl of Asian heritage in a light summer dress with a
watermelon design around the hem. Maybe six or seven years old. Shaking with
feat A moment later, the lovely visage of the
yuki-onna
appeared above
the girl’s head.

Eve growled. “A
hostage was a bad idea.”

When she had
kids of her own, she wasn’t letting them out of her sight.

“I will walk out
of here with the child,” the Infernal said in her lilting, accented voice. She
stepped out of the stall with her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Then I will
release her.”

The child’s
teeth began to chatter and her lips took on a blue tinge. Gooseflesh spread
from the point where the demon clutched her.

“You’re going to
die,” Eve said matter-of-factly. The
yuki-onna
had been targeted. Marks would
hunt her until she was dead.

“So are you,”
the demon retorted. “Do you really want to waste your last moments killing me?”

There’s a
hostage,
she told Reed, ignoring the
standard demon intimidation and bargaining tactics.
A little girl. I need
you to get her out of here.

A warm breeze
moved over her skin, tangible proof that her handler was always with her. He
was forbidden to assist his charges in their hunts, but clearing mortals out of
the way fell under his purview.
On your cue,
he murmured.

Eve had no idea
where in the world he was, but as a
mal
‘akh,
he could shift—or teleport—in and out of a location
faster than the blink of an eye.

“I was going to
take you down fair and square,” she told the demon, holding the sheathed katana
aloft. “I should have known you would want to fight dirty.”

“I have no
weapon.” A lie. Demons all had certain gifts, like the
yuki-onna’s
ability
to create extreme weather. Marks had only their own wits and strength. They
were celestially enhanced physically—able to heal and react quickly—but lacked
any supernatural “powers.”

“I’ll give you
mine,” Eve offered grimly, “if you let the kid go.” She ripped the katana free
of its sheath and hurled the lacquered wood at the demon’s head.

She reached out
to Reed.
Now!

The demon’s arms
rose to ward off the projectile. The child was snatched by Reed before the
yuki-onna
caught it.

The Infernal’s
cry of rage was accompanied by an icy gust that burst through the room like an
explosion. Eve was thrust backward into a heated-air hand dryer with enough
force to hammer it flush to the wall. She held onto the hilt of the katana by
stubbornness alone. Her booted feet dropped to the floor with a dull thud, and
she hit the ground running.

Arm raised and
blade at the ready, Eve rushed forward with a battle cry that curdled her own
blood. The child’s fear lingered in the air, the acrid scent mingling with the
stench of decaying Infernal soul. The combination sent her mark into overdrive.
She leaped, slashing down on the diagonal, but the demon spun away in a flurry
of snow. The temperature dropped drastically. The mirrors fogged around the
edges, and her breath puffed visibly in the chilled air.

Eve pursued her,
feinting and parrying against the sharp icicles the demon threw at her. They
shattered like glass against her flashing katana, sprinkling the tile with
slippery shards.

Crunching across
the hazardous floor, she advanced with precision. The beautiful kimono
fluttered with the Infernal’s retreat, the thick silk shredded by Eve’s calculated
attacks. Once the sorriest swordswoman in her class, Eve had practiced
exhaustively until she stopped embarrassing herself. She still wasn’t much
beyond passably proficient with the weapon, but she no longer felt hopelessly
inept.

She began to hum
a merry tune.

As she’d hoped,
the demon floundered, caught off guard by the implied boredom. The
yuki-onna’s
next salvo lacked the speed of the previous ones. Eve caught it with her
fist, hissing as the ice splintered its way across her palm. Blood flowed, its
scent goading the demon into roaring in triumph, a sound audible only to those
with enhanced hearing.

Eve lobbed the
icicle back, followed immediately with the katana. The Infernal deflected the
first projectile with an icy blast, but was left vulnerable to the second. The
blade sliced along the demon’s right triceps, drawing blood before impaling the
wall behind her. A crimson stain began to spread through the pristine white of
the kimono.

“Checkmate,” Eve
taunted. “Your blood for mine.”

The Infernal
retaliated with an icicle that pierced straight through Eve’s right thigh. She
cried out and dropped to one knee. Agonized, she sent up a silent request for a
sword. She held her palm open to receive the gift...