Rebel (2 page)

“It can’t wait,” I said. If it brought an end to my existence, then so be it. I pushed past him, moving through the open doors and down the slope onto the beach, searching for Raziel’s tall form among so many tall, beautiful creatures.

The moment I set foot on the sand all hell broke loose, as if the storm had been waiting for me to unleash its final restraint. The sky turned black, roiling with angry clouds, the only light the almost constant bolts of lightning slamming into the ground, into the sea, shaking the very pillars of the earth. The roar of the wind battled with the constant, deafening thunder, and the gale plastered my loose clothes against my body. It felt like the end of the world.

Raziel loomed up out of the chaos, vibrating with fury. “Do you know anything about this?” he demanded, somehow being heard over the noise.

Time to face the music, I thought uneasily. Raziel needed any information I had, as insubstantial as it was. “Someone’s coming.”

The wind caught my voice and whipped it away, but he heard anyway. “Who?” he shouted.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Who?” he repeated.

I heard the sizzle; my ears popped and my face burned with sudden heat, and in the midst of the beach something burst into flames. Flames that could consume the Fallen, destroy them.

People scattered in panic, some plunging into the healing safety of the furious sea, some running toward the house. I stood transfixed, staring at the column of flame, Raziel motionless by my side as the form of a man appeared in the midst of the blaze.

Not a man. An angel—I could see the wings outlined against the orange-red glow, and I stifled my horrified cry. I had seen the agonizing devastation fire could wreak on the angels, even a spark, and this angel was consumed by it.

I watched, unable to turn away, expecting him to disintegrate into ash. No one moved to help him—no one could. They all stared at the culmination of their worst nightmares come to fruition.

He didn’t scream. Didn’t thrash or struggle. Instead he stepped forward, out of the flame, and it dissolved behind him, leaving him standing still, untouched, his deep-hued wings spread out behind him as he surveyed the people around him.

And then the angel smiled, the most devilish, charming, diabolical smile, as he snapped his fingers. The fire vanished. The sky cleared; instantly the wind dropped, the thunder and lightning gone as if they had never consumed the universe. He looked around at the shocked faces almost benevolently.

“I always did know how to make an entrance,” he said.

I could feel hatred pierce Raziel, so fierce and powerful it reached into me as well. “Cain,” he said in tones of utter loathing. “I should have known it was you.”

E
VERYONE WAS TOO BUSY STARING
at the newcomer to notice the shock on my face. I don’t know why I was surprised. I had already known exactly what he would look like. Hadn’t I seen him, time after time, as he made love to my dreaming self?

The Fallen were beautiful. All angels were beautiful, including, I gathered, the sumptuously evil archangel Uriel. But this one, this Cain, was different.

The Fallen were austere, powerful. But Cain surveyed us all with clear amusement, something I seldom saw in the men who surrounded me. He had long, sun-streaked hair, high cheekbones, and a strong, elegant nose. He stood too far away to tell, but I already knew his eyes were a clear gray, almost silver, and they were laughing.

I knew his mouth as well, curved and sensual.
I had seen that mouth on my body, doing things Thomas had never done. Too many times I’d reacted to those visions with restless longing, and they’d never brought me any closer to understanding. Why should I be tormented by such intense, erotic dreams?

Dreams that had taken on a disturbing reality as the dark man suddenly appeared in a pyre that should have killed him.

He pulled his wings into his body, and they vanished in that astonishing way of all angels, so I hadn’t time to ascertain their color. Color made a difference. The darker the shade, the more powerful, the older the angel. His wings had been very dark.

He moved then, almost gliding toward the angels awaiting him, so graceful I had to fight back a gasp. “And where is Azazel to greet me?” he murmured, not even glancing at me.

It gave me a chance to observe him even more closely. He seemed to hum with energy, with a sexual heat that I could feel vibrating in my own body. Perhaps they all could feel it.

He was here, he was now. He would destroy us all.

“Azazel no longer leads the Fallen. I do,” Raziel said in deceptively calm tones. He nodded toward the small burned patch on the beach. “What was that?”

Cain laughed, and the sound was shocking. Charming, almost musical, after the violence of his arrival. “Smoke and mirrors, old friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Raziel said.

And then Cain glanced at me. I kept myself very still, waiting for the power of his gaze to hit me, but it simply danced across my face. “Who’s the little mouse hiding behind you?”

That was enough to move me. I met his eyes calmly. “Not a mouse,” I said. “I’m Martha, wife of Thomas.” I don’t know why I made it sound as if he were still alive.

“The seer,” Raziel said briefly.

If I expected that to elicit any more attention from the newcomer, I was disappointed. “And how is that working out?” he said smoothly, more to Raziel than to me.

“She didn’t tell me you were coming,” Raziel grumbled, and I kept myself from flinching. There’d been nothing to tell. Indeed, this time my visions had been turned upside down, clearly mixed up with my own pent-up sexual frustration. I’d had the vision of his arrival, and transposed him into my unwanted fantasies.

Which explained why, when he looked at me, it was with only distant curiosity. That odd, heated connection had nothing to do with him. He was looking at me now, and it took all my self-control
not to squirm. “But you knew I was coming, didn’t you?” he murmured. “I can see it in those secretive eyes of yours.”

I was far from transparent—I’d spent my human life hiding my emotions, and there was no way he could read me. He must already know of my premonition, and lying would do no good.

But I could slide around a bit. “I knew someone was coming,” I allowed. “But that was all.”

Again that smile, but there was a knowing quality to it that I found distinctly unsettling. “Indeed?” he murmured. He turned back to Raziel. “You should get yourself a better seer. This one seems to have fallen down on the job.”

I didn’t even blink. I had learned in my human life not to respond to a blow, and it served me well now. Inside I wanted to blast the charming, arrogant prick who’d just arrived, but Raziel had already come to my defense.

“Prophecy has always been an imprecise art,” he said. “Why have you returned, Cain?”

This gilded, seductive creature had been here before? Then why had I never heard of him? Surely someone of his magnetic charm and obvious age and power should have been well-known. And yet I’d never heard his name until my dreams, or I might have been better warned.

Cain’s mouth curved in another secretive smile. “Why, I’ve
come back to help you in your hour of need, brother.”

“Don’t call me brother,” Raziel snapped.

Before Cain could respond there was a sudden roar from the wide doors to the big house. Azazel stood there, bristling with fury, Rachel beside him, a restraining hand on his arm. A hand he shook off before he plowed toward Cain, barreling into him, knocking him onto the sand with the force of his assault. I leapt out of the way, expecting the other angels to break up the vicious fight that erupted, but no one moved as the two of them pummeled each other.

Finally Raziel spoke, but only after Azazel had managed to land several punishing blows. “I suppose we’d best break them up, Michael,” he said in a languid voice.

“Must we?” the archangel replied. “Azazel is winning. He could solve the problem for us.”

By this time Rachel had reached us, and she glared at the angels on the sidelines before turning to the fighting men. “Stop it!” she shouted. They were so lost in rage they didn’t seem to hear her.

I was the only one to see her do it, and I wasn’t surprised. I already knew of her powers, perhaps more than she did. A rogue gust of wind hit them like a tiny sirocco, rolling and tumbling their battling bodies toward the now calm sea.

A moment later they were immersed in the icy water, the shock of it pulling them apart. Azazel went under, then arose, sputtering, to glare at his wife, while Cain emerged grinning, shoving his wet hair away from his face.

There was blood on his face as well as Azazel’s. Azazel made no move to lunge at him again, frowning instead at his wife, but Rachel had only the most innocently concerned expression on her face.

“If the two of you are finished measuring your dicks,” Raziel said dryly, “then I suggest you both get cleaned up before we find out exactly why Cain has chosen to grace us with his presence.”

“Good idea,” Rachel said in a deceptively serene voice. “Martha, why don’t you take care of Cain while I see what I can do with my idiot husband?”

Her idiot husband didn’t look any more pleased than I felt, but after my first start of protest I didn’t dare say anything. Cain hadn’t even glanced at me. Dreams, I reminded myself. Not visions.

“Excellent idea. We’ll meet in the gathering room in, say, half an hour.” There wasn’t a question in Raziel’s rich voice.

I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or disappointed. Half an hour wouldn’t give me much time to discover what this man’s clearly unwanted appearance meant for me, but it would mean less time in his troubling presence.

“Go with Martha, Cain,” Raziel said impatiently, when neither man moved from the gentle surf.

I felt the full force of his eyes on me now, an unsettling reminder of the erotic dreams that had plagued me. Dreams that had nothing to do with this particular newcomer, but instead were simply a coincidence. I was convinced of it.

He walked out of the surf then, his already tight black clothes now plastered against him, clinging to his lean, muscled body, and I had to keep myself from staring. I should have been used to masculine beauty by now, taken it as the norm, and in fact, I had. What I wasn’t used to was the pure sexuality of the man who was now looking at me with his entire concentration, and I could feel my own body heat in response.

Cain strolled up the beach toward me, apparently undisturbed by the biting autumn wind. He already knew who I was in this pack of twenty or so men and women. He stopped too close to me, raising an eyebrow inquiringly, and for the first time I felt the full force of his mesmerizing attention. His smile was facile, charming, never reaching those amazing silver-gray eyes.

“Shall we go play doctor?” he purred.

I nodded, all business, and turned toward the infirmary. He could follow me or not. The healing powers of the seawater would have taken care of any
significant damage, such as cracked ribs—my help would be more along the lines of cleanup, and he could take it or leave it.

Unfortunately, he chose to take it. I could feel him behind me, and I quickened my pace into the cool hallway of the big house, hoping to force him to hurry. I wasn’t very tall, much to my chagrin, surrounded as I was by the towering Fallen and their long-limbed, willowy wives, and it required no particular effort on his part to keep up with me as I hurried down the corridors.

By the time we reached the infirmary, I’d schooled myself into calm, practical concern. I even held the door for him, waiting for him to precede me.

He didn’t. He caught the door above my grip, pulled it gently out of my hand, and gestured me ahead of him. “Indulge me,” he said in that voice of liquid gold. “I come from a different time.”

I could hardly get into a wrestling match over the door.
Choose your battles,
someone had once said to me. There would be far more important reasons to fight with Cain.

The infirmary was off to one side of the main building, a series of small rooms surrounding a central gathering place. It was seldom used; the wives of the Fallen, though all too human, lived long and healthy lives in the sheltered world of Sheol. There were no colds or illnesses, no cancer or heart disease,
no arthritis or diabetes. Apart from the occasional broken bone, the women of Sheol were a healthy bunch.

I gestured toward the examination table and turned to wash my hands. I heard the click of the door latch over the sound of running water, and felt him near as he walked into the room.

“Why do you wash your hands? There’s no chance of infection around here. Or are you one of those people who spend far too much time trying to wash everything away?”

I turned to face him, my eyes not quite meeting his, cool and businesslike. “It’s automatic,” I said. “And a courtesy. If you prefer, I’ll go out and grub in the mud before I tend to you.”

“Is there mud in Sheol? I would have thought everything was too clean and perfect here.” He hopped up on the examination table, relaxed, casual, and I realized that to get close enough to clean the cut over his eye and the bleeding lip, I’d have to move between his legs.

But I would be damned if I’d ask him to change position. I wetted a cloth with hydrogen peroxide and advanced on him, reaching out to dab at his forehead.

At the last moment his hand snaked out and caught my wrist, and I jerked, startled at the touch of his skin against mine. It was as if a small electric
current sparked between us. But he’d tightened his hold—automatically, I guessed—and my efforts to pull free were useless. “Is it going to hurt?”

I made an exasperated noise. “You’re immortal. Don’t be such a baby.”

He released my wrist and sat back, relaxed. “That’s better. Go ahead, do your worst. I can take it.”

I suppressed my instinctive growl and dabbed at the oozing blood. He could have done with a couple of stitches, but the last thing I was going to do was put a needle and thread through that warm golden skin, so close to his observant eyes. “You’re lucky you’re an angel,” I said. “Otherwise you’d have a scar.”