Eve of Chaos (38 page)

“Can you at
least tell me
why
you have this necklace?”

“To kill the
Nix. It, uh, apparently suppresses Infernal tendencies.”

Alec grew very
still.

“Yes,” she answered
his silent question. “Something is in you that shouldn’t be. But I think you
knew that already.”

“I didn’t know
it was Infernal. I thought it was just. . . me.” He reached out and caught her
hand, his fingers playing with hers. “Angel. I have to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, really.”
She squeezed his hand. “I know about Izzie. I know that wasn’t you.”

He looked
shell-shocked, then relieved. His entire frame visibly deflated from the
release of tension. “I don’t deserve you, you know? I never have.”

“Well.” The toe
of her shoe followed a grout line in the marble. “I have something to tell you,
too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t want to
hear it. And when I saw the name of Sarakiel’s e-mail attachment, I didn’t want
to see it either. So I deleted it.”

Her shoulders
went back. “Because you feel guilty over something you’re not responsible for.
You think this makes us even, but it doesn’t, Alec. I knew damn well what I was
doing; you didn’t.”

“I don’t care,”
he said stubbornly.

She laid it all
out there. “I would do it again; you wouldn’t.”

“I’m not going
to give you a reason to do it again.” Alec straightened. “Let’s go check on my
parents and see if they’re ready to go. I need to hit the road.”

“Fine.” There
was no point in talking to him about it now. He wasn’t listening. She’d revisit
the subject later. She had to. Everything was different. Ignoring those
differences wasn’t going to help any of them. “But I’ll need you back here
before noon. You and that necklace. Got it?”

“Got it.” Alec
shifted them up to his apartment.

His mother sat
on the black leather couch in the living room. His father was apparently in one
of the back bedrooms. When Eve jerked her chin down the hall, Alec took the
hint and joined his dad, leaving her alone with his mom.

Ima looked up at
her with reddened eyes and nose. She looked years older than she had the night
before, with deep grooves around her pretty mouth and slumped shoulders. Eve
took a seat beside her and offered her a commiserating smile.

Setting a hand
on Eve’s knee, Ima asked in a whisper, “How did you get the necklace?”

“Satan lent it
to me.”

“Why?”

“It wards off
Infernals.”

“Does it?” Ima
looked away. Her tone grew distant. “I didn’t know. It didn’t do that for me.”

Eve looked down
the hail, making sure that Alec was still occupied with helping his father.
Then she leaned in and queried softly, “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Nodding, Ima
explained, “When I married Adam, Jehovah gave it to me, along with twenty-three
other pieces of jewelry.”

Was the piece
around Alec’s neck the only one that was charmed? Perhaps they all had a unique
gift. “How did Satan get his hands on it?”

“I gave it to
him. In a way, it’s fitting that you would give it to Cain.”

A sentimental
gesture. A gift of some meaning, apparently.
A message delivered,
as
Satan had said.

“You shouldn’t
say any more,” Eve murmured. “Cain shares my thoughts and memories. Whatever I
know, he eventually finds out about.”

“Ah, I see.” Ima
gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Will you be
okay?”

“Adam and I have
been together forever. That’s not going to change now.”

“I hope I see
you again. A longer visit, perhaps.”

“I would like
that.”

Ima hugged her.
A few moments later, Adam did the same, albeit with some awkwardness. Then Alec
shifted away with them. The parting was bittersweet for Eve. She’d spent only
enough time with them to learn that she wanted to spend more.

Knowing there
was much to be done before the morning dawned, Eve returned to her condo.
Sydney was cooking chili in the kitchen, Reed was on the phone with his
insurance company, and Montevista was in the shower. Once again, Eve kicked off
her heels, hoping it would be for the last time tonight. She was beat. She
pushed them under the console table by the front door and padded down the
hallway to her office.

Ishamel was
there, sitting at her desk and staring intently at the computer monitor. He
leaned back when she entered and sighed. That sound softened him in her eyes,
as did the sight of him sans jacket and waistcoat.

“Hi,” she said.

“How are you?”

She hummed a
noncommittal sound. “I’ve been better.”

“I found what I
think you were looking for.”

“Oh?”

The
mal‘akh
gestured
at her monitor. She rounded the desk to see what he was referring to.

Frozen on the
screen was a grainy image of Sarakiel in sunglasses, sitting at a picnic table
in what looked to be a public park. Across from her sat another blonde woman
and a large dark-haired man.

Eve asked, “What
am I looking at?”

“Sarakiel.”
Ishamel pointed at the familiar figure. “This is Asmodeus. And this is Lilith.”

Eve’s mouth
formed an O. She leaned in closer. Unfortunately, not much was distinguishable
aside from body type and hair color. She couldn’t get a good idea of what
Adam’s first wife looked like, much to her disappointment. “That can’t be good.
How did you get this?”

“Raguel is gone.
Two archangels are on his turf. I thought it’d be wise to keep a close eye on
things in his absence.”

She
straightened. “You rock.”

“Now it’s your
turn,” he said. “Tell me what this means.”

Moving over to the
futon, Eve sat with her legs tucked beneath her and explained what Mariel had
told her.

She finished
with, “Trading a handler would knock twenty-one Marks
off
their game,
but only temporarily. I can’t see that being worth trading Gadara for. Unless
the handler was Abel.”

“That ups the
ante considerably,” Ishamel agreed. “Exactly. And leave it to a demon to tell
Abel to his face that he was being traded.”

“How did you
narrow the culprit down to Sarakiel?”

Eve shrugged.
“It’s a woman thing, I guess. We can be vindictive when slighted.”

“You’re taking a
risk telling me this,” he pointed out. “You are all expendable to me, if that’s
what it takes to get Raguel back.”

“Right.”

“So you must
have a plan.”

“I guess you
could call it that.” She smiled. “Clusterfuck also works.”

Ishamel nodded.
“Count me in. What do you need from me?”

***

“An odd location
for a meet, Cain,” Sabrael murmured. “The most popular place to commit suicide
in the United States. Is this a message of some sort?”

“Nothing so
morbid.” Alec blinked and engaged thick tears, protecting his eyes from the
seraph’s brilliance. “Eve pointed it out while watching a television show about
witches.”

“Far from
morbid,” the seraph said wryly, “I think that qualifies as romantic.”

The view from
the top of a Golden Gate Bridge tower was unrivaled. The waters of San
Francisco Bay shimmered with the city lights and the sea breeze was cold, damp,
and brisk. It kept Alec’s head clear, which he appreciated.

Sabrael took a
seat beside him, his powerful legs dangling over the edge: “Are you enjoying
your ascension?”

“For the most
part.”

“Am I here to be
thanked?”

Alec’s mouth
curved. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“What would
happen to me if Raguel came back?”

“Ah. . . Excellent
question.” Sabrael turned his flame-blue gaze on Alec. “I was not expecting
something so thoughtful.”

“Glad I could
surprise you.”

“What do you
think will happen?”

“I don’t know.
Will I die?”

Sabrael laughed.
It was a gorgeous, heavenly sound. Unique to the seraphim. “My dear Cain. I
doubt Jehovah could afford to lose a Mark of your talents. You are
irreplaceable, I would say.”

“Good to know.”

“However, you
would lose the North American firm and all that comes with it.”

“Everything,
then,” Alec clarified. “Would I return to the way I was before? Would I at
least be restored to a full
mal’akh?”

“You
misunderstand me. I would see to it that you retained your archangel gifts,
despite the lack of responsibilities that usually accompany them.” The seraph’s
voice took on a biting edge. “Do not forget that you owe me, Cain. No matter
what task I decide upon, having you as an archangel is of greater benefit to me.”

“I’ve never
failed you, and that was while I had no gifts beyond those of an average Mark.”

“What are you
saying? Have you decided that the life of an archangel is not to your liking?”

“I haven’t
gotten that far yet. But my goal was to head a firm, not acquire more gifts.
Without the one, I have no need for the other.”

“I
 
have
need of it, and I will not give it up simply because you miss your Evangeline.”

“She isn’t
gone.” Alec’s fingers curled around the red-painted ironwork. Despite the
chilly temperature and the soothing necklace, his skin was growing as hot as
his rising temper. “If I can get my shit together, her and I will be okay.”

“You have come
to the wrong place to ask for sympathy.” The seraph’s tone lacked all
inflection. “She weakens you, and Abel. She is a mediocre Mark, barely
sufficient in the practical applications, and prone to blasphemy and
irreverence. You are a fool if you think I will sacrifice
you—the
greatest
killing machine ever created—for
her.”

Alec’s grip
tightened to the point of pain.

I won’t
invest in a relationship with someone who can’t love me,
she’d said, and he knew it was true.

Which made Abel
a greater threat now than ever before. He’d become the go-to guy when she
couldn’t turn to Alec.

Sabrael
levitated until his feet were once again level with the top of the tower. “You
will remain an archangel until I decide you are no longer useful in that
capacity. I find that possibility very slim indeed.”

The seraph left.

Alec lingered,
hoping that time would present the solution he searched for.

***

Once Sydney and
Montevista were settled for the night—Sydney in the guest room and Montevista
on the couch in the living room—Eve had Ishamel shift with her to the
subterranean floors of the tower. Together they knocked on Hank’s door.

“It’s late,” Eve
said. “Are you sure he’s still here?”

“He lives here.”
Ishamel set a hand at the small of her back and urged her through the opening
door.

“Welcome back,”
Hank said, appearing out of the darkness. “You’ve had an interesting afternoon
since you left me.”

“You could call
it that’ she agreed dryly.

He must have
noted Eve’s velour jogging suit and Ishamel’s casual state, because he changed
from dress slacks and shirt to a black sweat suit that reminded Eve of
Riesgo’s, although the priest was considerably more muscular.

Her resolve
strengthened further. A lot of people were depending on her to not screw
everything up. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

“Let’s sit?’
Hank led the way to the now-familiar rough-hewn table. Immediately afterward,
Fred approached in a tight patent leather and metal bodysuit. Her face was
heavily made-up and her long white hair was teased big. She set a tray down
bearing a pitcher of Hank’s favored iced tea and three glasses, then sashayed
away, revealing a horsetail-thing swaying from the rear of her outfit.

Eve stared.
Ishamel looked away.

“Hot damn,
Fred,” Eve called after her.

Hank gave an
elegant shrug. “Note that the tengu is quiet. Seems he’s become enamored with
Fred. The dominatrix guise keeps him distracted.”

Since Eve
herself had been rendered speechless for a moment, she could see how well the
getup worked. She returned her attention to Hank. “Do you have something or
some way to keep Infernals from disintegrating when killed?”

One red brow
rose. “Why?”

“I need a body.”

“The masking
agent seems to preserve bodies.”

“It also
restores them.” She shook her head. “I don’t need any more recurring kills. I
want the vanquished to stay dead, but I need some remains. At least until
cremation.”