Pandora's Box (23 page)

He thought about oral sex, and she thought about CDs.

“Some of the ear-bleeding music you love?”

“Well, it ain’t none of the soft rock you like.”

Something about her scratchy southern brogue, made him think about soft core porn—not rock music. He gave his inner voice a mental growl of warning and shoved it into the timeout corner. Evil bastard needed to stop sending his mind into the gutter. This was Mads, not some easy trollop he could fuck and leave.

She started it
, his inner voice whined,
with the stuff about sex being like dancing and forcing me to hold her hips. For Christ’s sake, her hips
! Nix slapped a mental hand over his whorish inner voice.

“How’d you find the hard rock stuff anyway? I can’t imagine your uptight Christian father letting you listen to it.”

“Heck, naw.” He loved it when southern slang fell from her lips. “On one of those pitch black nights, not a star in sight, driving between point A and point road to nowhere—” He knew the place well, had grown up between the two points. “—I was sick to death of the country music I listened to. Amos lay asleep in the back seat, and I changed the satellite channel.” She denied being a Sherlock, while fitting the definition of one. No other Sherlock he knew could afford satellite radio, though. “I stumbled across the metal channel, and it spoke to something primal inside me.” She shrugged. “Now, it’s all I listen to.”

Nix nodded, understanding. Heavy metal singers screamed out lyrics laced with anger and rebellion. Angry with a life never asked for, Mads would probably rebel until she gasped her last breath.

Over Madison’s shoulder, Zen suddenly launched to his feet, drawing Nix’s suspicious gaze. The immortal stared at an ethereal blonde who swaggered into the bar, makeup too heavy, a suggestive roll to her hips, her trampy getup nothing out of the ordinary in a sleazy, backwater bar like this.

James and Georgie glanced over their shoulders to see what drew Zen’s excessive response. Before Georgie could issue a silent O of surprise, Zen prowled toward Madison. The man moved like a predator. He stalked the blonde heading for them, his hard, silver eyes trained on the stranger.

“We’ve got trouble,” Nix said.

Mads swiveled on the barstool, tensed, and jumped to her feet. “Mother,” Mads said as the woman neared them, and Nix jerked in surprise.

He assumed this could be the first time Mads had seen her mother since her supposed vehicle accident more than a decade before. The accident had been shrouded in scandal, underwent a criminal investigation for foul play, and Mads had been the prime suspect.

Mads stared at her mother, her features devoid of any expression. Her white-knuckled grip on the hilt of her birthday knife exposed her detached gaze for a lie. Nix knew she churned with a bevy of mixed emotions, betrayal probably headlining the list.

“Touch her, succubus whore, and I’ll kill you a second later,” Zen said, crowding the woman’s space. Nix suddenly liked Zen better than ever before. Intense and to the point, he wouldn’t play games with Mads’s safety.

Her mother flicked a glare at Zen. “Madison, call your flea-bitten mutt off.”

“I don’t control him.”

Nix placed his hand against her spine, hoping she understood he backed whatever choice she made. He’d give her his heart too, except it wouldn’t do her much good at a time like this.

“What do you want, Celeste?”

“To talk.”

Zen stepped between Mads and Celeste. Forced to take two steps back, Mads rolled her eyes. She didn’t balk at the protection. Nix would have placed himself between her and her mother, too, if he’d thought she’d stand for it.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“I wanted to tell you about yourself. My agreement with Micah wouldn’t allow the discussion until now.”

Mads shrugged, and he felt her bristle beneath his palm. “I don’t care.” Nix knew the statement a lie.

Nix watched his family pattern out behind the succubus. James and Gage moved behind Celeste. James’s hand rested beneath his jacket. Zo flanked Uncle James’s other side and Aunt Georgie stepped up to the succubus’s side.

“She came to enthrall you, Madison,” Georgie said. “It’s amazing; you two look like twins.”

“You lie!” her mother hissed.

Georgie shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Wait? What? She’s female,” Nix said, confused. “Succubi can’t enthrall women.”

“So, Sherlocks know of your true nature.” Madison’s mother glanced at them all, even turning to get a look at the others behind her.

“A full-blooded succubus can enthrall both male and female,” Mads explained. “Demons and non-demons alike. Only a King is exempt from a succubus’s charm.”

Charm? That was like saying a snarling mountain lion only wanted to give you a playful kiss as it bit your head off.

Amos shoved into the fray, Petra at his side like a protective canine. “Rlaaq!”

“What’d he say?” James asked, frowning at the foreign lilt.

“No.” Mads placed a halting hand on Amos’s arm as her mother knelt at the boy’s feet. “No, Amos, I don’t want her kneeling to your commands.” Any love she might have once felt for her mother was not in her present gaze. “I should kill you.” They stared at one another, Mads’s expression openly hostile. “I could, you know. One word from your Queen and you would die. I would relish making it gruesome.”

Damn, Mads could be cold blooded when she wanted. He found it sexy.

Her mother paled. Nix never knew demons were terrified of anything.

“The psychic lies. I came to wish you happy birthday.”

“I don’t lie,” Amos said. “And Georgie tells the truth. You came to enthrall my mother, to lead us both back to Daddy.”

The succubus hissed. Nix had thought his family dysfunctional…not any more.

“Get off your knees.” Mads scanned the bar. “You’re causing a scene.”

Nix thought all of them circling a woman dressed like a two-bit whore drew more attention than the fact she’d been on her knees.

“Did Micah send you, Mother?”

“It’s time for you to come home.”

“Tell Micah I said, Hta Noaal htelrj hta Relv ‘j u mojjc wik jalxelv tak hi kahkeaga pa. E xuka tep hi yuhyt pa ew ta yul.”

Biggest fucked up language Nix ever heard! Leave it to the demons to come up with something sounding like a bunch of garble.

“Ouch.” Amos winced.

Nix nudged him and whispered, “What’d she say?”

Madison answered. “I said, ‘The Queen thinks the King’s a pussy for sending her to retrieve me. I dare him to catch me if he can.’”

“Ouch is right.” Nix thought it most unwise to dare a demon, and hoped the words didn’t bite her in the ass at a future date.

“Does your father know you’re slumming, Petra?” Celeste fidgeted as she glared at Micah’s daughter.

Petra shrugged, and said nothing.

“Leave,” Zen snarled, “or I’ll joyfully kill you.”

The succubus turned a little green, then swallowed hard. “Hiding from your husband is wrong, Madison. I reared you better than that.”

“Lying to me was wrong, too, but it didn’t stop you.” The two women stared at one another for a long time. Georgie was right. The resemblance between them was startling. The mother appeared as young as the daughter. They could’ve easily passed for twins. “Leave, Mother, or I’ll sic Zen on you.”

Her mother flung a distrustful glance at the immortal man. “How do I know he won’t follow me out the door and kill me anyway?”

“You don’t.”

Celeste beat a hasty retreat.

Nix thought for sure Mads would skedaddle after her mother departed. She surprised him when she turned to Zen. “We should check the perimeter—make sure it’s safe to stay.”

Spoken like a true Sherlock.

“We don’t have long, anyway. She’ll tell Micah your location.” Zen stared at the door.

Mads shook her head. “Nah. She won’t go straight back to Hell. None of them do. They like it here too much.”

Chapter Forty-One

Four days later

Hell

A Cimmerian fairy from the royal court of Nob requested a meeting with Micah. She claimed to come with information from Czarina, the leader of the Nob fairies and he would find what she had to say of great importance. He granted her entrance into Hell for the pure amusement of discovering what she presumed valuable to him.

Interest tugged at his irritation as the fairy swaggered into his realm as if she were Queen of Hell, rather than his own Madison. With her blue-black hair, sloe eyes and silver pupils, she held his gaze without blinking. Actions marking her as bold and sure, a hint she just might possess something of value after all.

Diminutive in size, reaching the middle of his chest, the dainty creature’s intricate red and black wings dragged along the stitched skin floor. Her smug smile pricked his confidence. Owing Czarina a favor could be dangerous business. When he’d allowed her messenger entrance, he’d anticipated the meeting wouldn’t rank higher than smoke and baubles. Now, his certainty wavered.

“King Micah.” Her deep curtsy failed to move him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, unwilling to be drawn into her theatrical schmoozing. Cimmerian fairies were known as drama queens with a taste for blood.

“I am Shannya, Prime Royal of Czarina’s court.” He said nothing, just stared at the lofty-ranked fairy. She continued as if cued. “We know the location of Jesus Christ’s heir.”

Only Madison knocking for entrance into Hell could have garnered more attention, but he remained silent, concealing his excitement.

Two millennia ago his brother, Jesus Christ, took a foreign wife, Kashmiri. Mary Magdalene had never possessed the charm to entice his brother as twenty-first century conspiracy theorists touted. Jesus’ firstborn, a son, came before the Nazarene’s baptism. His second child, a daughter, arrived two months before his crucifixion. The son became a preacher, delivering many to the Kingdom of God before his death. Jesus’ son held no powers of persuasion or other paranormal attributes. Most importantly, he died unmarried and childless. The daughter, a miracle worker, saved and healed people with all the piousness of her virgin-born father. People traveled from miles around, sometimes for days, just for the opportunity to be touched by her and perhaps be healed. She, however, procreated, giving birth to one daughter.

Jesus begetting offspring had spawned aspirations Micah never dreamed possible. What if a King of Hell begot children with demons? What could he do with descendants of his own?

While Micah followed Jesus’ heirs through the centuries, smirking when they became wastrels, he experimented with blending his angelic genomes with demonic genes. His first successful offspring, Petralegija, brought joy to his life. None possibly held claim to a finer or more loyal daughter, always willing to do exactly as he instructed without question. Her sole failing, she held a seat in Hell and could never enter Heaven. Much later, Amos came along, his perfect child. With his mixed lineage, he could breach Heaven’s doors, so long as they were already open. In order to do so, he needed the key, a.k.a. Jesus’ heir. Better known in the angelic community as the Ark of Heaven.

“Czarina realizes you may disbelieve. This token pressed to the forehead of Christ’s heir will expose his lineage.”

Micah plucked the object from her hand and held it between finger and thumb. Engraved with Jesus’ sigil, the item hummed with an angelic signature. The Jesus Totem. An item the savior could use to summon his offspring at will. His brother never kept an eye on his descendents the way he should have, the way Micah did. A huge mistake in his estimation. He wouldn’t allow Amos and Madison out of his sight, if given a choice. Too bad his son felt the need to hide them, but kudos at his kid’s show of talent that he could. If what the Cimmerian said proved true, he could rectify that dilemma soon with the aid of the Ark of Heaven.

“The heir will absorb the Totem into his body.” The fairy’s words drew Micah back to the conversation.

Micah smirked. The fairies had missed the significance of the Jesus Totem. The Ark of Heaven wouldn’t just absorb the metal into his body. It would prepare him to accept his Messianic magic.

“Where’d you find the Jesus Totem?” Antsy to know the name of the Ark of Heaven, he cuffed his excitement into submission. It wouldn’t be wise to let the Cimmerian know how much he coveted the particular information.

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Coy never worked for him. “Does it matter demons are prepared to rip you apart at a signal from me?”

Shannya blanched and swallowed heavily. “An archangel entrusted the Jesus Totem to Czarina a millennia ago.” He wondered what happened to this particular archangel and as if she read his thoughts, she said, “Czarina plucked his feathers and enslaved him for more than five hundred years.” The tiny satisfied grin curling the fairy’s lips attested to her evil nature. “She allowed a Royal Cimmerian to milk him.”

Milk him
in Cimmerian slang meant they’d ingested his angelic powers, a heady experience for those able to tolerate the potency of angel spirit.

Micah guessed Shannya had been the high-ranking Cimmerian given the pleasure, an opinion confirmed by the unique buzz of her essence. “Was he completely milked?”

“He burst into diamonds, if that’s what you ask.”

Indeed, it was what he asked. He grinned at the idea of the petite creature taking down not just an angel, but a mighty archangel.

Ingesting all of their powers was one of the few ways to kill one of God’s messengers. They could regenerate, but only if the seraph spirit wasn’t depleted to the point of death. At death, they exploded into diamond giblets. Since she murdered an archangel, the gemstone must have spewed like lava from a magma chamber. He would’ve loved witnessing his holy brother’s defeat. “You have proof of his death? A jewel from his remains perhaps?”

The color of the stone would validate her claim. Different colors indicated their hierarchy.

Shannya held out her other hand. “The smallest in the lot he cast.”

Twinkling in her palm rested a twenty carat red diamond. The rarest in the world. Mankind would never believe the gemstones they coveted came from deceased angels. Red were exclusive to archangels. The basic gems gracing the hands of most women came from run-of-the-mill angels.

Micah accepted the stone from her palm and rubbed his thumb along its smoothness. Jahiel, an archangel dedicated to Father’s commands without question and never doubted. The imprint of his brother resided in the stone.

The Cimmerian fairies had possessed the Jesus Totem for a hundred centuries, while he searched for the object all those years. Wasted years. Micah gritted his teeth. Jahiel fucked him on purpose, and he wouldn’t have known without Czarina’s offering. Neither would he have the pleasure of returning Jahiel’s fuck, thanks to the fairy in his presence. “What does Czarina desire for the name of the Ark?”

“One little favor.”

Czarina never asked for ‘little’ favors. “What is it?”

“An alliance with Hell.”

Surprised by the request, Micah’s eyebrows elevated. Hell and Nob weren’t enemies, but couldn’t be considered friends either. As long as their purposes didn’t cross paths, no bad blood lay between them.

“An alliance for what purpose?”

“The gnomes plan an attack.”

“You fear the gnomes?” The ankle-biting breeds of hobgoblins were a nuisance and could be easily eradicated. Odd for the Cimmerian fairies to fear them.

She cast her gaze aside. Did she worry how much she should impart? Her silver pupils shimmered, suggesting she might be in mental communication with Czarina. Micah waited.

“The gnomes abducted Czarina’s daughter a week ago. If we resist, we’ve been assured they’ll kill her.”

“No alliance, but I offer this alternative.” Hell couldn’t afford an all-inclusive alliance with the Cimmerian fairies, nor could he completely deny their request. “I’ll slaughter the gnomes, and eliminate their threat forever. Czarina’s daughter will be returned. All I ask in return is the name of the Ark of Heaven.”

Her silver-pupils sparked again, and a moment later, she nodded. “Czarina accepts your counteroffer, so long as you offer the trade as a blood covenant.”

Micah held up his hand, extended his claws, and took a step toward her. “Shall I make the blood deal with you, little one?”

Shannya squared her shoulders and lifted her head at a haughty angle. “Yes.”

She would go to any lengths for her royal.

A slash to her cheek opened up a seam from ear to the corner of her mouth. Slapping her palm over the oozing wound, the fairy gasped, her eyes rounding in horror. An angel mark, even that of a fallen angel, would never fully heal. She’d be forever branded by his touch.

Micah held her eyes as he licked her blood off his finger. “Consider the scar my gift to you for waltzing into my domain as if you’re as highly valued as my Queen.” He took another step in her direction. Forced to tilt her head back to meet his stare, the glimmer of fear in her black eyes mollified him a smidgen. “No one is as highly prized as my Queen. Make sure Czarina understands her misjudgment in sending you. Now, let’s finish.” He pierced his finger and thick blood oozed to the surface. After painting her lips black with his hemoglobin, he waited for her to lick them. “You must accept the covenant of your own free will,” he said when she made no move to finish the contract.

“Phoenix Birmingham is the name of your Ark.” She flicked her tongue along her bottom lip, sealing their deal.

Micah’s blank expression slipped, and her lopsided, pompous grin affirmed she’d witnessed it.

Phoenix, the sole, long-lost heir of Jesus Christ? Micah sucked on his teeth. If he didn’t need the half-breed’s blood to open Heaven’s door, he would suck the Messiah power out of him. Or allow his wife to feast upon him when she came into her demonic inheritance.

A Heaven-born man wanted his Hell-born wife. The irony. The most unlikely duo–their very natures at cross-purposes. Together they would burn the world to cinders. Could be fun to watch, if he didn’t want his wife for himself.

Bittersweet to know the Ark of Heaven had been possessed by a demon under his control. Frustrating to discover Phoenix had slipped through their fingers. Once inside Phoenix, the minion must’ve known the scope of the mortal he controlled. Even diluted, the purity of the Messiah’s bloodline couldn’t have been missed. The taste of his pure soul would’ve been too sweet. And the hell spawn that’d been excised out of him by James Birmingham had never uttered one word about Phoenix’s blood.

Jesus’s lineage changed their names, and moved to the United States decades ago. The demon he assigned to watch the family nonstop had been distracted by a brunette for over a month, allowing the family to escape his radar. Adding insult to injury, the brunette had been mortal. Once Micah discovered the demon’s error—six months later—he personally dealt with the demon in a forever kind of way, but only after terrorizing and killing the mortal woman as the demon watched. Even so the Messiah’s family had been lost for three generations. Until now. Unbelievable that Phoenix’s family surfaced on their radar as James Birmingham’s relation with no reference to Christ. They were slaughtered for the joy of spitting in the Sherlock’s face. His brother, Elias, had been given the pleasure of murdering Phoenix’s family and his daughter, Petralegija, had controlled the twelve-year-old Phoenix while he was forced to watch. Elias would be excited to discover he had sexually tainted the heir of Christ while Phoenix watched him rape his mother. Priceless. It was the way Jesus’ heir deserved to die. Nasty and difficult. But…he needed the sole living heir of Christ. One drop of his ‘I Am’ blood in conjunction with a spell would open a doorway to Heaven. Micah needed the Sherlock if his dreams ever stood a chance of coming true.

Phoenix would be amazed by his Messiah power. Trusting his gut instinct probably came naturally to him as a Sherlock. His genetics were just as strong now as they were with Jesus’s daughter. The bloodline didn’t dilute through the centuries and was the cause for his wily instincts.

The goody-two-shoes followed in his ancestors’ footsteps and became a savior of innocents. Micah understood how to taint such purity, though. If he could corrupt the Messiah, Phoenix would be easy. If only the world knew the simplicity of convincing Jesus to take a wife, despite Father’s recommendation to the contrary, few would put so much stock in his salvation.

Debauching Phoenix would be entertaining on many levels. Pissing on Father’s grand scheme was high among the benefits, but the icing on the cake would be when Phoenix gained him entrance into Heaven. It’d been so long since he stepped foot in his homeland.

Micah smiled. Fate had just dealt him a winning hand.