
Trust no one...except the one who walks in the dark.
Relic Defender, Book 1
Anthropology PhD candidate Lexi Harrison never bares it all when she belly dances for a strip club crowd. She doesn't have to---she's that good. Every performance earns money toward her degree, and restores the sense of power that her painful childhood ripped away.
Something is different about tonight. A man whose silver gaze seems to touch her skin beneath her veils. When a rowdy customer crosses the line, he comes to her rescue with the speed of a falcon---complete with wings.
Mikos Tyomni has never seen anyone dance the raqs sharqi like Lexi. Trust his tormentor, Archangel Michael, to put him in close contact with the cause of his downfall: a mortal woman. Particularly this mortal woman. The Defender. He has only thirty days to win her trust before Hell's deadliest demons attempt the mother of all prison breaks.
No matter how sexy the messenger is, Lexi's career plans don't include some crazy idea that she's the last line of defense against the forces of evil. Until her university mentor's murder leaves her holding the key to Hell. And fighting a losing battle against a passion with the unholy power to bring down Heaven...
Warning: This title contains a dark and sexy fallen angel, bad-ass demons, a heroine with kick-assitude tossed together with mythology, archeology and a shapeshifting rock with a fondness for the gangsters of the 1920s.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Key of Solomon
Copyright © 2011 by Cassiel Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60928-372-8
Edited by Bethany Morgan
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2011
Key of Solomon
Like other things in life, the birth of a book takes a village of people and I'd like to thank mine. From the special friends who read and critiqued this story in its infancy to my local chapter, the Rose City Romance Writers who helped me always remember why I love writing. Huge hugs and thanks to the Hooligans and my family for all of your unabashed encouragement. Without all of your love and support, I could never have continued.
I'd like to give special thanks to the following: My husband of 20 years, Steve, for all the encouragement, support and affectionate nagging it took to keep going; To agent Barbara Poelle, who is not my agent, but was the first industry professional to sing the praises of this story (I can't tell you how much that meant to me); and finally, but not least, to my editor, Bethany Morgan who loved this story enough to give it a home.
"Greed is a fat demon with a small mouth and whatever you feed it is never enough."
Janwillem van de Wetering
Chicago, Illinois
University of Chicago
Present Time
Lexi Harrison stalked the hallways of Haskell Hall, the sound of her low-heeled cowboy boots making a satisfying click on the tiled floors. A swift-moving current of fellow students within the Anthropology Department flowed around her, their frenetic movements signaling the approach of the end of the year. This late in the year, no one moved like the proverbial tortoise. Not when finals and dissertations were coming up fast.
In fact, if it hadn't been for her professor's urgent summons, by special courier to her apartment for Pete's sake, she wouldn't be here herself. Every spare hour, no, second, she had was slotted for polishing her dissertation.
Within the next month, she'd graduate with her PhD and be able to start her new job with the Anderson Wyatt archeological team in the cisternas of Peru. Her fondest wish come true. She didn't have time to waste. Lexi pursed her lips. Except Professor Xaviera wasn't just a professor. He'd given so much to her and in so many ways, acted as the father she never had. He called. She came running. No questions. Confusion, definitely, but no questions.
She came to an abrupt halt in front of his office door. A roil of unease curled in her stomach. Why the hell was his door closed? A gregarious man, he preferred a near constant ebb and flow of students and colleagues into his sanctum. A smile twitched on her lips at the memory of one occasion she'd come up on him arguing with the Dean and head of the Anthropology Department.
"I'm the oldest damn professor on staff, and if I want the damn door gone, the damn door should be gone," she'd heard him shout.
His strident tone had ricocheted down the hallways bouncing off eardrums and making glass shudder. Her professor had lost that battle. One of the few to her knowledge. Since then, she'd never seen the door closed. Until now.
She knocked once before entering. At first, she didn't see the tall, lean almost skeletal figure of Professor Xavier.
"Please close the door, Lexi."
Was that her professor? The soft, scratchy voice was nothing like his normally robust and booming tones. After complying, she turned toward the large armchair sitting near a small floor lamp. Professor Xavier sat in the tattered chair, his elbows resting on his knees.
Actually, what he did could not be called sitting. Like a deflated vinyl doll, he slouched, his lean frame bent as if only a little air kept him upright. To her searching gaze, he looked defeated. Broken. Her stomach lurched. As if he'd been forced to do something he didn't want to do. Were all her carefully crafted plans about to come crashing down like a house of cards? The unease twirling in her gut kicked into high gear.
"Professor, you wanted to see me?" she said.
He didn't move. Didn't lift his head. Didn't twitch. She waited a few seconds. Caught herself rocking with impatience and forced herself to stand still. Then waited a few more seconds. "Professor?" she asked when the seconds stretched into a long-ass minute.
His narrow shoulders lifted into a huge sigh. When his eyes plunged into hers, she started, her weight shifting backward at the lost expression in his dark gaze. What the hell was wrong with him?
Xaviera's lips pulled into a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you for coming in." He gestured to the ladder-back chair that sat opposite his. "Please have a seat. This won't take long."
Christ, she felt like a first year student facing down a tenured professor instead of a doctoral student having a conversation with a beloved mentor. She moved around the chair and sat.
"Is there something you need from me?" she asked. "Am I in trouble?"
He sighed again. "No, no. You are not in trouble." Xaviera wobbled to his feet and stood swaying.
Instead of concern, worry flooded her system. "Professor, are you okay?" Had she ever seen him ill? She couldn't think of a single time. Yet, right now, his gray tinged skin looked as if he'd just crawled out of the grave.
Another weak smile. "Yes, my dear, I'm fine."
He walked over to his wall to wall bookcase and pulled out a thick book that looked as if only force of will kept it together. With gentle fingers, he opened the cover. She caught the flash of something gold. Not a book then. Some kind of safe to hide valuables? But, the device looked so real. Even from where she sat, she clearly saw the uneven edges and heard the crackle of pages.
"Actually, I have something to give to you," he said as he studied the object in his hands.
She felt her eyebrows rise. He had something for her?
Xaviera turned around and stuck out his hand. "Here."
Equal parts reluctance and compulsion swept through Lexi. Those were followed by a bone-deep warning that his gift threatened to change her perfectly planned life. The life where she'd leave Chicago. Leave Illinois altogether.
About damn time too. The decision to finish her degree at the old age of twenty-six, originally a good idea, soon lost its charm by the time she reached thirty. Nevertheless, Lexi wanted to be done. Done and gone. Too much pain from a lost, lonely childhood haunted Chicago's streets. Haunted her.
"Please, Lexi. Take it. It's important."
With slow movements, she took the box and pulled it near. Her eyes widened. Good grief, was that real gold? She smoothed the tip of her finger over the top. The smoky luster of the gold had a pitted and scratched timeworn appearance, the edges joined as if fused by hand in high heat. Even the rounded corners spoke of handling and environments that took hard edges and whittled them into velvety lines.
Sigils from various religions decorated the burnished sides. An ankh, a cross with a loop at the top that meant eternal life to the ancient Egyptians, took a prominent place on the front, near the latch. On a side panel, the moon in her three phases, waxing, waning and full equaled womankind. As in mother, maiden and crone. Another one she recognized symbolized Thoth, the Egyptian God of the Moon, Magic and Writing.
The largest and most recognizable symbol, a pentagram, covered the lid's surface.
"What is this?" She looked up and met her mentor's brown gaze. Her head canted. His expression looked, well, odd. Part satisfaction, part anger and part something else. Something she couldn't identify. Wasn't sure she wanted to identify. Because, to her searching eyes, it looked too much like terror. What the hell would terrify her fearless professor?
"It's a gift, Lexi. Think of it as a reward for finishing." Deep lines at the corners of his mouth flattened and softened. "I'm proud of you."
"Professor, this box is much too valuable. I can't accept it."
"A small trinket." He waved a hand, the gesture dismissing her protest. "Still, you've earned it. I've never known as student so dedicated to learning as you have been. It has been a pleasure being your professor."
She resisted the urge to duck her head and giggle. This courtly and respectful behavior was so unlike Xaviera. So unlike the larger than life, give 'em hell and take no prisoners attitude she usually had the joy of experiencing. This new side, along with his drained appearance, triggered a flight sensation that crawled over her skin.
However, she owed him more than that so all she said was, "Thank you, Professor. I'll treasure it."
He nodded and patted her shoulder before moving away. With a heavy grunt, Xaviera sank into the seat he'd vacated. Instantly, he seemed to forget she was in the room. His eyes took on a burning, faraway look. Really, what the heck was wrong with him tonight?
"Professor?" No response. He just sat there staring at something only he could see or maybe he stared at nothing at all.
She stood and went to crouch in front of him, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet. "Professor Xaviera. Are you okay?"
For a second, she didn't think he heard her. His eyes cleared, and he focused on her, staring straight into her eyes. She rocked back, intending to stand when his hand shot out and grabbed her at the elbow jerking her to a halt. Off balance, she fell to both knees.
"Lexi, you must be strong for what lies ahead. I've done the best I could to prepare you but I fear it wasn't enough. Trust the one who walks in the dark."
"What are you---?"
Her question broke off when Xaviera threw back his head. He stilled with his eyes turned toward the office door. He unwrapped his fingers. She looked down at the small red marks then looked back at him. "Take the box," he said. "Go now." He did not meet her gaze.
Lexi tucked the gold box into her backpack, straightened and turned to leave. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder. The man who was more than a father still would not meet her gaze. Almost as if he was ashamed---her head tilted---or guilty.
"See you later, Professor."
She grasped the knob and twisted only to feel the knob slip through her grasp and the door gave way. Her momentum, not anticipating the easy give of the door, propelled her forward until she collided into another body.
Instinctively, she rebounded and fell back a step. Hard fingers snagged her shoulders, their heat burning through her T-shirt into her skin. She let out a soft growl. For the second time in less than ten minutes, she'd been grabbed forcefully. Two times too many for someone who hated to be touched. With a shake of her shoulders, she wrenched free.
Only then did she look at her manhandler. He was not handsome. Oh, hell no, not handsome. Such a tame word to describe the man standing in the doorway of her professor's office. Other descriptives came to mind. Proud. Compelling. Arrogant. Smoldering sensuality in the curve of his lips and silver glint in his dark eyes.
"My apologies." He bent his head in a brief nod. "Did I interrupt?" His voice pitched low was obviously meant to be soothing. That's the last thing it was.
Lexi resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest and raised her chin. "No worries. I was just leaving." She held his thoughtful gaze, her own unwavering.
A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he stepped fully into the office and away from the exit. Without another look, she left but before the man closed the door behind her, she thought she heard him say, "Until the next time."
But she couldn't be sure. Too much noise in the hallway. Her shoulders lifted into a shrug. Who cared? She had more important things on her mind. Her professor's weird behavior and the gift of an expensive gold box. The final draft of her dissertation on her laptop eagerly awaiting her return.
Meanwhile
Somewhere in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt
"Bring it to me," Beliel called. He rocked, wrestling with the urge to join the five men struggling to climb the dune's steep incline. By the black waters of Styx, he'd waited long enough.
Scorching light from the mid-day sun beat down on top of his head. He swiped a trembling finger through the liquid hanging on the end of his nose. A drop escaped and fell to his grit-covered mouth. Cracked lips soaked up the salty wetness.
"Lucifer's balls," he snarled. "If the dolts moved any slower the shifting sands would reshape the dune before they reached midpoint."
"Indeed, master," the misshapen figure crouched at his side crooned. Gaarp peered up at him. The soul-stealer's oversized mouth stretched wide. Pointed teeth, gray and jagged, flashed. "Shall I---encourage---them to move faster?"
Beliel shifted closer to the edge. The ground softened. Ripples flowed out from under his feet and traveled downward pushing the fine sand and pebbles into waves. He halted and fixed his unblinking gaze on the tableau below.
"No. Not while they bear the vessel. Until they've delivered the relic, I still need them." He narrowed his eyes. "Afterward... We'll see."
"Yes, master." Gaarp giggled. "Still, they are rather clumsy and vulgar."
As if to underscore his words, one of the men wobbled, sandaled feet slipping. He lost his balance and fell to his bare knee. Debris clattered and plunged back into the recently excavated hole. The bronze jar tilted precariously, rocking on the oak plank.
"Careful, you idiots," Beliel shouted.
Seemingly possessed with a will of their own, his hands reached out. He growled and curled his fingers into two hard fists. Without the book, he could not touch the vessel. He dug the nails deeper into weak flesh. The pain from the mortal body he occupied was a reminder of how limited he was. How stymied by the constraints placed on him by Solomon. Even from his grave, the bastard reached out to stop him from reaching his goal.
Beliel glanced down. Gaarp leaned forward. Small eyes, dark and rapacious, stared at the humans. Dark, oily saliva oozed from his open mouth.
"Gaarp," Beliel spat. The soul-stealer whined as he tore his gaze away and looked up. "Do not damage them but go remind the humans the price they'll pay if they destroy the vessel."
Gaarp shivered, his pebbled skin swelling as his true form manifested. Formed of hellfire, Syndon demons had the ability to shift from a solid into a gaseous shape. The grayish cloud that was once a four-foot high demon with a taste for human souls sped down the side of the dune and wrapped itself around the men's heads.
Several men paled, their faces graying under the light beige dust. Even with the soul-stealer whispering threats and warnings, the clumsy oafs recovered their balance and continued their mincing slide and step upward. A smile pulled at the corners of Beliel's lips. Gaarp definitely had his uses.
At the top, within a few feet of where Beliel impatiently waited, the men halted and placed the vessel before him. In testament to the weight of the urn, their panting breaths broke the early morning hush, an odorous delight of garlic, zangabeel root and foul breath tainting the faint breeze.
His nostrils flared. He took an abrupt step forward then halted as common sense fought for, and won, control over chaotic emotions. His hungry gaze drank in the physical embodiment of his desires. Every nerve in this mortal shell twitched with anticipation. To know that after centuries of searching, he was within a mere breath of time to having the means, and the power, to wrest Hell from Lucifer.
Mystical sigils and wedge-shaped patterns writhed, etching their protective spells deep into the ageless bronze jar. Scriptures and symbols guarded the seventy-two spirits imprisoned inside with the sole purpose of preventing what he intended to do. His lips spread into a thin-lipped smile.
"Soon, my brothers. Soon you'll be free." He reached out, quivering fingers hovering over the still bright metal. The impulse to caress the sand-polished exterior, to smooth his fingers over the sharp-edged sigils, shredded his self-preservation. He could not stop his fingers from moving closer.
Human flesh burned and shrank away from the Lord's fire, his weapon burrowing through fragile mortal skin and tissue to seek the demon hiding inside. Skin sizzled and split. Clear fluids splattered, spitting and evaporating as they touched the metal. The crippling pain the human soul felt was nothing to Beliel. Like the buzzing of a biting insect, a mere inconvenience.
"My king, the humans grow restless." Gaarp said his voice the rough scratch of iron on stone. The soul-stealer kept his vaporous shape as he drifted by Beliel's side. "They huddle and bleat like foolish sheep."
Beliel lifted his head. "Picku mater!" he swore then spat at the ground.
A violent shudder ripped through him, and he flinched backwards, away from temptation. Even clothed in the covering of mortal skin, he could not touch the vessel. If he continued to try, the spell's power would destroy him.
Low mutters and oaths drifted toward him. He blew out a hissing breath, and his gaze swung to the workers. Shuffling feet kicked up sand and dark eyes wide enough to see large expanses of white returned his glare. Their frightened gazes skittered from his face to his charred arm and back again.
"Indeed. Sheep. An apt comparison." He chuckled, a hollow sound that lacked amusement. "Time to deal with the unbelievers."
He withdrew his hand and licked blistered lips. A tall, lean human with heavy brows shading tiny eyes, stepped forward. An expression of disgust wrinkled his thick nose. Shaggy hair threaded with gray lay in greasy tendrils to his shoulders.
"What is this?" The human gestured to the vessel then to Beliel's blistered and blackened arm.
Pinning him with an unblinking stare, Beliel used his non-injured hand to unroll his shirtsleeve. The rough fabric scratched burnt skin and fresh needles of agony jabbed raw nerves.
He ignored the pain and growled, "This is not your concern. The felous I paid you did not buy your curiosity. Do not make me forget my offer. Back away."
The human's eyes widened further, the dark centers constricting. He yanked himself away, his hands up, palms facing outward. Beliel lowered his chin and smiled, a tight smile he knew didn't reach his eyes. Yes, human, be afraid. His gaze sharpened on the ashen face. Afraid will make you smart. Afraid will keep you alive.
Bah. Ignorant mortals. They expected a treasure. Wealth. What were riches to him? The vessel's inhabitants had far more value than mere gold, jewels or the flimsy paper these mortals called money.
Shutting out the greedy men, Beliel considered the beginning of the end of his plans. He circled the jar. Now that he had the vessel, all he needed was the---. He came to a shuddering stop.
Where was it? A crash of panic swept through him. In his borrowed chest, his heart turned into a block of ice. It should be there. Momentarily speechless, he circled the vessel again. And again. Each empty pass around the shining foundation of his plans bounced an insidious chant throughout his mind. Not there. Not there. Not there.
No matter how hard he looked, the Key was not there.
Beliel's stomach churned, acid roiling upward, filling his throat. His fingers clenched and unclenched into tight fists. Surely, the mortals had brought everything from the well. Even they could not be so stupid as to leave anything behind. With effort he inhaled, fighting nausea, and drew in a spicy mix of sun-baked metal, salty sweat and pungent dust.
"Where is the Key?" The words came out in a harsh, raw sound, echoing with all the horror of Hell. He fought to keep his power contained. To keep from popping through his flesh suit like overripe fruit bursting in the heat to reveal his real, hell-birthed form hidden beneath.
Matching expressions of confusion lined the men's foreheads. "The book. Where is the book?" he ground out between clenched teeth. Stupid humans.
"Mawlana, we found nothing else. No book." A stout man, the one who'd slipped on the dune, babbled as his companions tried to quiet him. "Just the jar. The pit was empty."
Blood rushed to Beliel's cheeks. In the space of a blink, he stood in front of the startled man. Before the foolish mortal could flee, Beliel punched his hand into the human's neck, tearing through flesh, and ripped out his throat. A gurgling shriek pierced the air. Warm blood spurted, cascading down over the man's chest to form a scarlet puddle in the sand. A second later, the man's lifeless body fell to the ground.
With a hideous, piercing screech of pleasure, Gaarp rushed to the human, covering the corpse in a greasy sheen. When the dead man's soul tried to flee, the soul-stealer's hungry jaws locked onto the human's animus and tore it to shreds. The body jerked a few times before collapsing. Now, instead of the rotund shape, a red-stained, flaccid heap of tattered, filthy clothing littered the ground.
With the human's severed throat still in his grip, Beliel lifted his gaze to the remaining men. Like a falling set of dominos, one after the other turned from the body of their downed companion to face him. They backed away. Fear, stark and vivid, glittered in wide eyes.
Casually, he tossed the chunk of meat at the corpse and shook off most of the sticky substance from his fingers. The rest he rubbed on his clothes. His gaze stayed locked on the humans' terrified faces. What did they see? Blood red eyes filled with flame? A shadow of what he really was showing through the thin shell of the mortal skin he wore?
He bared his teeth. The scent of their horror permeated the air like the smell of moldering fruit. Sweet and sour. Teasing tastes of decay. Tantalizing fodder for an empathic demon's delight. The workers continued to retreat, stumbling over each other in their exodus.
"Wagef!" When his command in their language to stop had no discernable effect, he thrust out a hand and muttered an incantation. His breath wheezed through his teeth with the effort it took to work power within a human form.
As if jerked to a halt by ropes around their bodies, the humans froze. A smile of satisfaction twisted his lips. He'd prefer to rip their bodies into tiny pieces and let Gaarp have their souls, but Beliel could ill afford to lose these mortals. Who would then carry the vessel? None with the taint of Hell could touch it. As much as he might want to kill them, he needed these humans alive, instead of serving as food, for a while longer.
He waved a hand in dismissal. "Take the vessel to El-Arish. There is a ship waiting."
With another spell that left his muscles quivering, he implanted the compulsion to do as he commanded. On quick, if a bit shaky, legs, the three men got into the truck. The grating rumble of the engine lingered longer than the dust and view of the battered truck.
Beliel jerked his head at Gaarp. "Go with them. Make sure the vessel is safely on board the ship then report back to me."
"And the men, my king?" Gaarp purred. "What of them?"
"I have no further use for them."
A low, gurgling chuckle came from the soul-stealer. "Thank you, my king." With a crackle of sound and yellow-green flash of light, the Syndon demon disappeared.
Beliel glowered at the vessel's empty resting place. Whirling sand coated the outside edges. Within days, blowing sand and detritus from the whirling desert storms the land's inhabitants called simoons would fill the pit, obscuring all signs of its existence. As it had for centuries.
He drove his fist into the center of his burned palm. The burst of agony washed over him like waves on a shallow reef. He welcomed the pain even as the human inside writhed in torment. If the simpletons had indeed searched each inch, by the fires of Hell, where was King Solomon's Key? Where was the pretender's spell book, the book that contained the magic he needed to not only release the spirits but also take their power for his own?
Lucifer's balls, he needed the cursed Key. Everything depended on his ability to unseal the vessel. If he could not... No, he refused to think it.
If the Key was not with the vessel, then only the Defender could have it. Damn it. This meant more time wasted. He'd been a fool not to keep watch over the humans' protector. No matter. His minions would find the Defender; the book would be his and soon after, so would the kingdom of Hell. Backed by the power of seventy-two fallen spirits, Lucifer would not be able to stand against him.
With an ease born of centuries of use, Beliel ripped his spirit from the abused body of the human. Just before he entered the Under Realm, he glanced back at the crumpled form of his host. Wide eyes stared unseeingly at the cloudless sky. In the deep lines cut into the mortal's face, crippling pain wrote a message of horror.
Ah, yes. Beliel smiled. He'd have it all.
"All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from,
and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere,
I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there."
Jalal ad-Din Rumi
Chicago, Illinois
Unease dug tiny claws into Lexi Harrison's scalp. She rubbed sweaty palms on the emerald, rose and gold silk veils of her bedleh, an American-style belly dancing costume, as she waited to perform on a stage spotlighted more this night by stark apprehension than choreographed seduction. Gold pseudo-coins on her hip-hugging beaded belt jangled as she moved. Usually soothing, the hushed chiming sound struck a discordant note as foreboding snaked up and down her spine.
Several times, she caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulders. Every backstage shadow seemed to hold a threat. As if someone, something, watched and waited for her to let down her guard. Shit. She pressed her lips together. What the hell was wrong with her? An unusual flare of performance anxiety or something else?
"Like a half step to a breakdown," she muttered.
Maybe the bouncing between school during the day and dancing at night was catching up with her. Lexi tugged on the bottom of her beaded bra and fluffed out the veils draping her waist. Get a grip, girl.
"Yo, Fatima, you're on," the music jockey called out and tossed her a crooked grin.
She rolled her eyes then shook her head slightly. While she'd wallowed in uncertainty, the pitch of the crowd had changed. Hooting and whistles filled the air, indicating the last set was done. Her own music, a sassy Arabic pop blend, throbbed through the speakers. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage.
Hot lights surrounded her, flowing over her skin and lifting the small hairs on her arms. Under her bare feet, the smooth wood boards of the old stage gave slightly as if she walked on an extra hard mattress. Held her up yet bounced with every impact. Her boss said it made the strippers' breasts jiggle in just the right way. The prick.
Two years ago when she'd first approached Howard about belly dancing instead of stripping, he'd been skeptical to say the least. Downright obnoxious, actually. "Men don't come to see near naked women. They come to see bare titties."
Her audition had changed his mind.
She still remembered Howard's slack-jawed look and the hard-ons sported by the other men after she'd finished. Since then, she never failed to pack the club when it was her night to dance.
Time to get to work.
Unsettled feelings aside, even after dancing four, sometimes, five nights a week, she never got tired of the sensuality or power contained within the Sharqi dance movements. She much preferred this style of Egyptian belly dancing since it was less folksy and more refined and delicate. Besides, she loved the feeling of supremacy and control over the hypnotized audience. Oh, and they were hypnotized. Glassy, staring eyes and slack lips proved that.
Striking a pose, arms upraised, veils draped seductively about her waist and hips, Lexi waited as a hush fell. She risked a glance about the darkened room. Men, and some women, from all walks of life filled the chairs.
Business men, stiff in their tailored suits, with desperate gleams in their eyes as if they sought to find relief outside the rigid structure of the world they lived in rubbed elbows with construction workers whose steel-toed boots showed the dusty debris of the worksite. Homeless men skittered about the room's edges and wore hopeless expressions like heavy clothing.
All of them lost souls. Like her. Maybe that's why she was still here. Still dancing. Whatever the reason, she had a job to do. Money to make. Her lips pulled into a quick smile. No open seats. Good. A packed audience. The tips'll be great.
She swiveled her hips and slipped into the comforting routine of her choreography. The pulsing beat swirled around her, curling its seductive energy about her body. When she danced, nothing else existed.
Not the laughter, catcalls or propositions.
Not the clink of glass or scrape of chairs against the scarred wooden floors.
Only the thrumming cadence, the crystal clash of the finger cymbals, the jingle of the coins at her waist and the soulful moan of the lute.
Shutting out everything but the music and the provocative dance movements was the only way she could do what she loved while the lust-filled and often half-crazed faces watched.
Halfway through her set, that changed.
Surrounded by a sea of blurred faces, a shadow-shrouded man grabbed her attention, coerced her regard as if a spotlight caught him in its beam. For a brief moment, she froze while her music continued its bewitching tempo.
The dark figure steeped in gray sat motionless, not attempting to hide the fact he watched her. While that didn't make him different from the twenty or so other men who did the same thing, his posture and behavior did. Like a quiescent volcano, he left her with the impression that tremendous power lay beneath the serene surface. Power ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
Three other men occupied the same beer-bottle dotted table. Yet, no one spoke to him. They talked to each other around him. As if they didn't know he sat there.
As if they didn't see him.
One of his long arms was stretched across the back of the chair next to him. The neck of his black shirt gaped, revealing a muscular, tanned chest dusted with dark hair. He projected an energy that sang a mesmerizing song of hot nights and warm bodies wrapped in cool sheets. Of velvet caresses and hard, yet tender, lips pressed against all her hidden, pleasure points.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she squinted with the effort to make out his features. All she glimpsed was a masculine profile and an occasional silver glint from his eyes when the lights eddied over him. Like viewing an object from behind a full glass of water, his form was vague, yet visible at the same time.
Flickering, wavering.
There, but not there.
From behind the shadows over his face, she felt the touch of his stare, his magnetism so potent she couldn't look away. A wealth of unspoken words hung in the air, words she could only imagine. Words directed at her. For her. Only her.
Despite her best efforts to look away, something kept pulling her attention to him. Something familiar. As if she'd seen him before. But where?
He shifted. The wan, but clear, glow from one of the lights fell over his face and suddenly she saw him as clear as if he stood right before her. The shaft of light struck his hair, illuminating the midnight depths with flashes of fire. She licked her lips as her gaze tracked back to his face, to his firm, sensual lips.
A brief, violent shiver rippled within her muscles, and she lost a step. Or was it two? To cover her abnormal, and frustrating, reaction, Lexi dropped into a deep downward movement. The satin of her costume and colorful jewel-toned veils drifted with soft scrapes against her sensitive skin, skimming across her nipples until they peaked.
His gaze was riveted on her face then moved to her shoulders and down to her breasts. Embers kissed her skin everywhere his eyes rested. Her breasts tightened while liquid heat pooled between her legs. She licked her lips again. His silver regard turned molten.
He held her gaze, a long, silent moment suspending between them as if spun from silk into a finely made and equally fragile gossamer thread. Her pulse leaped before settling into an erratic rhythm that threatened to steal her breath away. She slowly drew off each veil, a come-hither siren's call in every motion. To tantalize, tease and torment. Even as she moved, she knew she'd never danced as well as she did now. Certainly never for a particular man.
When the last scrap of gauze floated to the ground, she bent backward, a final flourish, knowing as she did so, she delivered a message. For him. Only him. All she had to do was step off the stage and...
The tinkle and crash of shattering glass, followed by a woman's squeal, snapped Lexi out of her trance. She swallowed over a dry throat and blinked rapidly. What the hell had just happened? Had she really come close to going to that man?
God help her, she was losing her mind.
Another loud protest, this one with the desperate edge of fear, thrust aside her worries over her sanity. She ripped her gaze from the man and straightened. A hitch of her shoulders and shake of her head wiped away the cottony sensation of disorientation.
Ignoring the complaining men who demanded an encore, she lifted up to her tiptoes and scanned the somber room for the source of the feminine cry. Terror framed the shrill sound.
A short distance from the stage, Samantha Jones, one of the waitresses clutched her tray tight against her low cut, skin-hugging blouse. Three men surrounded her. One man, built lean but with a bulbous nose and pointed chin, held Sam by the upper arm. The wince on her face told Lexi the jerk's grip was bruising.
She stiffened, her gaze fixed on Sam. The waitress's pale blonde hair glinted under the dim lights. Barely topping out at five two, she had a heart-shaped face, blue eyes and a full, rounded figure. Polar opposite to Lexi's tall, athletic form, dark hair and faded brown eyes. In attitude too. Sam was all sweet and goodness. Lexie was...not.
She searched the pale faces around Sam and in the audience beyond. Where the hell was Gary? The head bouncer's skyscraping, bruiser form was nowhere to be seen among the caterwauling sea of men. In fact, she didn't see any bouncers.
"Let go of me," Sam cried out for a third time.
The jerk dragged her closer. By this time, the other men at the table had stood. Now five men besieged Sam. Shit. The terror on her face left Lexi's own gut clenching in response.
She recognized the helpless awareness, the knowledge you weren't strong enough to handle what happened to you. She'd never forget the icy fingers of fear squeezing her insides or the pressure of her own heart pounding so hard she wondered why it hadn't leaped from her chest.
Dark memories surrounded her, tearing at her with sharp claws as if trying to find a chink in the barrier that kept them at bay. Kept them from flooding her system with the panic she vaguely remembered, but never wanted to feel again. Refused to feel again.
Instead of succumbing, Lexi took a steadying breath and narrowed her gaze on the jerk. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, to consider what it meant to get involved, she jumped down from the stage. She shoved through the crowd, shrugging off the clammy hands fumbling at her with a few well-placed elbow jabs. The nauseous scents of sweat, beer and the acrid bite of smoke churned around her as she pushed her way to the small group.
"Get your hands off her," she said, through a throat tight with anger. "Now."
Five men, make that five lust-and-alcohol-crazed men, turned from Sam and faced Lexi. For a minute, common sense and self-preservation clicked in her mind. What the hell was she doing? She wore nothing but her dance bra and pantaloons. And bare feet. Not even good kicking power. Way to think ahead, Lex.
Bloodshot eyes focused on her. Brows lifted. He released Sam's arm and thrust her aside. Under the low lighting, an overabundance of alcohol made his face appear sallow and his downturned lips pouty. Faint stubble along a not-so-strong jaw line and the pungent scent of sweat mixed with some sort of heavy cologne reminiscent of Ralph Lauren's Polo completed the picture.
"Hey, babe, you're hot." The words slurred from his lips, much like dental patient dribble. She half-expected to see drool drip off his chin. "Wanna party with me and my friends?"
She sighed. His oh-so-supportive friends provided encouragement, their catcalls and hoots getting louder. More creative. She heard several references to what she could do with them. Alone or any combination of the group.
"So, what do ya' think?" the jerk continued as his upper body arched toward her.
Ah jeez. Her nose wrinkled, and her upper lip curled. The stench of beer mixed with garlic, onions and, heaven help her, something rotten, washed over her.
"Sit down, dude," she said, ignoring his question. And his hair-curling odor. "You really don't want to do this. Look, Heavenly Holly's on-stage. How about I get you and your friends a drink. On me."
His eyes narrowed and he reached out---maybe to grab her, hug her, she didn't fucking care. She pictured her boss yelling in her ear about taking care of the customers. Oh yeah, good idea. Stand there while a bunch of hormone-hopped perverts put their grungy hands on her or Sam. Good customer relations, my ass.
She crooked her head at the man and smiled. Eyes shot through with red brightened. He thought he had her. Before he took a step, she stomped on his instep and jabbed the heel of her hand into his chest. Looking as if he'd been rammed by a tractor, he stumbled backwards, his arms flailing. Honestly, she hadn't hit him that hard. Had she?
His friends broke his fall. From the dumbfounded expressions on their faces, catching him equaled accident.
Drunken, oversexed idiots.
As one, five pairs of bloodshot eyes fastened on her.
Terrific. Just terrific.
Mikos Tyomni unclenched his fingers from the back of the chair leaving behind small indentations in the scarred wood. Tiny reflections of the extreme emotions flooding his system. Beatus Deus. He lifted a hand to his face, surprised to find his fingers trembling. An array of disturbing feelings fought for control. Feelings he'd thought he'd finally been able to suppress. Covetousness. Lust. Possession.
Possession of the exotic woman whose hips begged for his touch. Whose lithe, sensual movements offered bliss.
The woman on the stage, Lexi he'd heard her named, radiated a vitality that drew him to her like a magnet. Her features contained an alluring blend of Egyptian and Grecian traits. Thick dark hair hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders. Loose tendrils framed a sun-kissed face with a short, straight nose and softly rounded chin.
A diaphanous confection of emerald, garnet, gold and pearl silks whispered over full hips that tapered into long, smooth legs. The ebb and flow of the thin material offered teasing glimpses of bronzed skin and shapely calves. He had been unable to see the color of her eyes or their shape but he could imagine. Imagine the way they would darken and turn moist with desire as she moved her hips under his.
Hell's gate, the way she moved. Seductive, with unconscious grace and delicacy, a golden lioness stalking her prey. Over the centuries, he'd seen many beautiful women dance the raqs sharqi. But none had this Lexi's finesse or the ability to entwine the sultry rhythms with the enchanting hip swirls and dips. Even Egypt's most powerful seductress, Cleopatra, had never performed as evocatively as this woman had. She'd certainly never taken his breath away.
It took all the willpower Mikos commanded to stop his traitorous body from leaping onto the stage to draw Lexi against his body. To slowly pull off each delicate piece of fabric and reveal each curve and mysterious valley of the slender form hidden under the veils. To caress warm skin and explore the sleek lines of her back, her waist, her hips. Then finally, to press her body to the hard floor as he thrust into her again and again and again. His legs quivered with the effort to remain still.
Mikos sucked in a deep breath and willed his pulse to slow. He had to get his lust under control. He knew, far too well, what resulted in succumbing to the temptation of a lush body, plump, wet lips and soft, perfumed skin.
Now, despite decades of fighting the seductive pull of mortal women, Archangel Michael, his tormentor, wanted him in close contact with the most important mortal female of this time. This woman. The Defender.
Mikos growled low in his throat. Was there a better way to test the resolve of a Fallen who wanted to return to Heaven than by putting him in close contact with the motivation for his Fall? Or at least, half of his motivation for falling.
Definitely a test. Another battle to fight with his baser instincts.
Another chance to fail. The insidious thought crawled through his mind.
As the rushing blood in his veins slowed and his breathing calmed, he suddenly sensed what he hadn't been able to before. A subtle change had come over the mortals. Desire, greed and enjoyment in sensual pleasures clashed with rage and hunger. And evil.
Mikos stiffened. As if water from the frigid north crashed over his head, the flush of passion dissipated. Another immortal was near. Like him, yet not like him. Malicious intent seethed around him, fueling the men's lust, greed and anger. A sudden thin chill swept past him, and he swung around in the chair.
The silver-touched inner eyes slid over his regular sight. Color bleached to various shades of gray, light and dark and nuances in between. Using his new sight, he scanned the room. At the same time, he inhaled, his nostrils flaring. The presence, whatever it was, leaked the sulfuric taint of the Under Realm into the stale, smoke-heavy air. If one of the dark ones were near, he or she, boasted powerful concealment skills. Skills better than his own. Damn. Only one possibility. A High Caste demon.
His mind spun with the implication of the demon's presence. High Caste demons did not leave the Under Realm often, but when they did, chaos and death, human death, followed. For the High demon to be present now, in close proximity, could only mean Beliel knew where to find the Defender. His jaw clenched. He'd hoped for more time to work with her before she had to deal with Beliel or one of his deadly allies.
"She is a delicious piece of mortal flesh isn't she, my brother"? As if a mere thought of his name commanded his attention, Beliel's dark, hell-crusted voice slithered into Mikos' mind.
"Hiding behind a mortal, hell-spawn?" he snarled.
A guttural bark of derisive laughter, then, "Better a hell-spawn than an archangel's slave."
"At least I don't have to act through another."
A hiss sounded, the grating sound reverberating through Mikos' skull. A brief smile of satisfaction twitched his lips. He'd made the oily bastard angry.
"You will lose," Beliel snapped in a harsh, raw voice. "I will have the woman, and she will lead me to King Solomon's Key."
"Are you an Oracle now?"
"I do not need a soothsayer to tell me of my destiny. I have the pretender's Vessel. Soon I'll have the Key. Then I'll take the spirits' power as mine. Nothing can stop me. Not Lucifer, not Heaven and certainly not a cowardly traitor."
He paused but before Mikos could form a reply, Beliel continued. "Why did you turn your back on us, brother? For these humans? They are nothing to us. Less than nothing. Cattle, really."
"They are Yahweh's children."
"Bah. His pets. We were his children. Before he turned us aside for these pitiful creations." His mind voice rose on the last word. When he paused, Mikos could almost hear the intake of breath as the demon fought for control over his emotions. "No matter," Beliel continued. "Think hard, my brother, about what side you are on. About the choice you've made."
Before Mikos could respond, a feminine shriek and outburst from nearby tore his attention from Beliel. More laughter, low and dark, flowed around him before the bastard's nasty chuckle faded.
Mikos' heart thumped. Fires of Hell, had the demon distracted him so he could send someone after the woman? He jerked his head to stare at the stage. Under the undulating lights, the empty space taunted him.
He yanked to his feet, the chair crashing to the floor. Ignoring the startled yells of the human males at the table who'd seen an empty chair violently topple, his eyes swept over the crowd then latched onto the woman.
Chin high, she stood in the midst of wide-eyed men taunting her with crude language and gestures. Her dark hair, tumbling carelessly down her back, glittered like black pearls under the flashing lights. A modern day Joan of Arc standing before her accusers. Mikos' fingers clamped on the table, the urge to rip the men to shreds surged until he thought his chest would burst. The wood splintered under his grasp.
Hell fire. Spinning away from the table, he pushed through the crowd. Astounded at the violent emotions raging through him, he took several deep breaths as he shoved and jerked away the human barriers between him and the woman. It had been a long time since he'd felt such extremes in emotions, yet, twice this night, he'd felt both forbidden passion and the craving to harm a human. Neither one boded well for him.
Curses fell from his mouth as he made his way to the woman. Now that he'd found her, he'd not lose her to a pack of lust-heated mortal men. Or a hell-birthed demon.
"To fly, we have to have resistance."
Maya Ying Lin
At the same moment Lexi settled into a defensive square stance, she caught a glimpse of lead bouncer Gary's red head bobbing her way. About damn time.
Out of the corner of her eye, another movement in the crowd snatched her attention from everything but the dark man coming toward her. Like freaking Moses parting the Red Sea, the object of her previous ogling moved through the leering and aggressive men as if they weren't even there. A glowering mask of scalding fury narrowed his eyes and drew his lips into a tight line. The rage had such a tangible presence she wondered how the mob didn't sense the intense emotion.
"Oh, shit," she breathed. Her heart jolted and her pulse pounded.
Looking beyond the anger that clawed at her nerves, she saw something else. Something impossible. Something that had to be a trick of the lights. An illusion. The silver glow saturating his eyes, increasing in brilliance until she couldn't focus on anything except the incandescent flash, couldn't be real. Alarm skittered along her spine, an icy sensation she felt freezing in her veins.
Transfixed by the wreck heading for her, Lexi stared. The dark figure of the man, big and commanding, closed the distance. Even with rage stiffening his shoulders, he carried himself with nonchalant grace. An oddly primitive warning sounded in her brain. She licked her lips.
The flicker of motion from behind him tore her from her absorption with his glowing eyes and powerful body. Black wings unfurled over his shoulders and back. Not only one pair. Two pair, one larger, the feathers more defined, and a smaller, more delicate-looking set just below the larger pair, stretched up and out. Like him, the wings did not appear fully solid, yet she saw them.
Didn't she?
Lexi closed her lids. No way was she seeing this. She opened her eyes and flicked her gaze in his direction again. Nope. Nothing wrong with her vision. Or her imagination. If she had a Bible in front of her, and believed in that sort of thing, she'd raise her right hand and swear she'd seen four freaking wings, complete with shimmering black feathers, spring from behind his back.
Someone jostled her. The crowd's level of aggravation had escalated. Time to protect her own ass before someone handed it to her.
A few well-placed jabs and not so well placed, but effective, heel kicks, cleared a circle around her and Sam. Lexi closed her fingers around Sam's wrist, spun the woman around and shoved her through the crowd and further away from the jerk and his friends.
To Lexi's right, Gary waded into the churning melee, grabbed men by the scruff of their necks and tossed them to the side. Despite the urgency of the situation, a smile twitched her lips. Ah, brute strength in poetic action.
What a pity he didn't get the chance to toss the jerk who stumbled over Gary's feet and tipped forward. The jerk's lowered head homed in on her midsection then yanked upright.
Sonofabitch. She backpedaled, and her eyes widened. "Shit," she sputtered. She hadn't moved fast enough. The top of the bastard's head crashed into her chin. Her head snapped back. She'd have fallen on her ass except for the presence of the chair she fell against. Tears filled her eyes. A throb began at the back of her jaws and extended into her ears.
Those cartoons where stars spun around a character's head? What a bunch of bullshit. Instead of stars, she got blinding pain that shot through her jaw and ground her teeth together.
Her first instinct was to smack the shit out of the jerk. Instead of the reciprocating hurt she wanted to inflict, she settled for glaring at him and singing the air with a satisfying spat of swearing.
"Ah, Christ, I'm sorry, Lex."
Gary hovered near her shoulder, practically wringing his hands like a damsel in distress. Disregarding his soulful brown eyes and his way-too-damn-late apology, Lexi gazed over the heads of the rapidly dissipating audience. Her mysterious, dark hottie was gone.
Except... The spot where he once stood remained empty. As if he continued to occupy the space, the absence of his body creating a vacuum.
Who was he? Even more, what was he and what the hell was with those, er, wings?
"What the fuck is going on here?" A familiar strident tone, bell-ringing loud and obnoxious, beat like a clapper against her head. "Just do your damn job and get these fuckin' assholes outta here."
Ah, there he was. Her dream of a boss, Howard. Tall, stick-thin, all angles and edges, he waved his arms at two boys in blue standing beside him at the bar. Every once in a while, he shot her a threatening look. The pencil eyebrows narrowing over small eyes weren't pretty. It wasn't kind.
It was downright frightening.
"Lexi, you okay? Do I need to call for a doctor?" Gary asked, hovering at her side.
She held a warm spot in her heart, as much as she could manage for anyone, for the big bouncer. Aside from his solid, thick form, he reminded her of the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. Well, except for the straw stuffing. Oh, and the missing brain. For all his size, there was something gangly and endearingly clumsy about him.
"I'm good, thanks. Nothing a couple of aspirin and sleep can't handle."
She tossed him an easy smile that faded at the stabbing reminder of the beating her jaw had just taken and then pivoted. The only thing on her mind was getting the hell out of the club.
"Lexi, wait a minute."
Sighing, she stopped and turned. With an apologetic expression thinning his mouth, Gary held out a white business card. "I almost forgot. A guy gave this to me. Said to make sure I handed it right to you."
Lexi took the proffered card and flipped it over. Several times. She frowned. No writing or pictures covered the stark, white surface. Only an expanse of nothing on both sides of the card. "Is this a joke?" she asked. "Who gave it to you?"
Gary shrugged. "Dunno. Never seen him before. He had the weirdest eyes though. Kinda swirly."
Heh. Swirly. What a night, um, correction, day this was turning out to be. While dancing at the club was never boring, it had never had quite this much excitement. As Gary hinted at---weirdness.
"Thanks, Gary. See you later."
He nodded, and Lexi headed backstage.
Mikos stared at the woman until she disappeared into the shadows behind the stage. Blood pulsed through his veins, feeding the heat of anger that remained even after her safety had been assured. A few more steps and he'd have been at her side and the human males crowding her would have suffered. Maybe even died. The battle fury's hunger required a release. It was all he could do to keep a tight lock on its violence.
After another final glance at the wall of dark beyond the lights, Mikos moved unseen through the crowd until he stood outside. He jabbed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and, ignoring the grime, settled against the side of brick-walled building, his back to the alley. Now, he waited.
Scurrying sounds came from around him. The scritch of tiny claws over gravel, an occasional high-pitched argument erupting into a screeching battle between rodent and feline. Rot mixed with urine and all overlaid by a hint of desperation, infused the air. So much misery packed the human realm. Unfortunately, a large part of the suffering came from the selfish actions of his kind. A bitter taste that lingered at the back of his mind. In his soul.
He frowned, hitching his shoulders to shake off the thought. This was not the time to travel to the past. Only sadness waited for him there.
The question was how to best approach the woman? From what he'd discovered, she had a sharp mind and deeply observant eyes. A barrier the strength of a steel wall around her, impenetrable to anyone who came near. She didn't trust anyone and had no friends.
This mortal female was...utterly fascinating. And potentially problematic.
Mikos blew out a breath and shifted again. The irony of his situation didn't escape him. He, one of the Fallen, chosen as the woman's mentor. Fallen, who by their very nature, didn't play well with mortals.
He rubbed the back of his hand across his chin and slanted a scowl at the heavens. "You couldn't have sent me against a legion of demons instead?" he muttered.
Damnation. He had little enough time to gain the woman's trust. In fact, he had to do what promised to be an arduous and frustrating task within thirty mortal days. Until Samhain, when the barrier between the mortal and spiritual realms was at its thinnest. Beliel would use that powerful time and the magic of the Key to take the power of seventy-two deadly spirits. What the bastard planned to do with their power wasn't clear.
A slight puff of air lifted Mikos's hair, the ends dancing against his neck. He gathered his power about him, and in the same moment, caught the distinctive and piquant earth scent of something familiar. Something distinctly unthreatening. A small figure with pale gray skin and approximately three feet in height, blinked into view, hovering at eye level.
Agrigorockie, Rocky as he preferred to called, bent his head in a nod. "Master," he said, the guttural hiss of the word sounding like the roll of rubber tires on gravel. A third tier demon, one of the lower castes, Rocky had attached himself to Mikos from about the same time he'd arrived in Hell. Since then, he'd been unable to shake the imp.
"The Slayer needs to talk to you," Rocky continued.
Mikos growled, a low rumble that started in his chest and expanded into his throat. "The Slayer can kiss my ass."
"That's what I told him." Rocky's sharp teeth flashed white in the deep gray. "He said that while he anticipated and appreciated the generous offer, he was not so inclined, however, he still wants to talk. Face to face. Said it was important. Life or death stuff."
Mikos growled again and shot him a threatening look. The shapeshifter took too much enjoyment in relaying the Slayer's words.
Rocky held up his hands and zipped back, still hovering effortlessly. "Okay, okay. Gotcha." He waited barely a breath before the words tumbled from his mouth, "so, what do I tell him?" His tone suggested he'd rather bathe in the River Styx's forgetful waters than go back and tell the Slayer Mikos wasn't coming.
Mikos hesitated. He did not like the idea of leaving the woman alone. Especially not with Beliel near. He cast out his senses. For now, the taint of hell-spawn was gone. Despite his feelings or concern, one did not ignore the Slayer. He would not have contacted Mikos unless it was truly a matter of life or death.
"Stay with the woman," he said. "If anything happens, come for me immediately."
After Rocky nodded, Mikos turned to take a last look at the building. The woman holding the key to his freedom stood within the red bricks. Soon, she'd have to make a choice. When she did, either choice impacted him. One would ensure his redemption.
The other would doom him forever.
"The beginning is the most important part of the work."
Plato
Lexi yanked open the dressing room door and went inside. Empty. Thank God for small miracles. She flipped the business card Gary gave her to the make-up table. With a heavy exhale, she collapsed into one of the rickety lawn-type chairs and kicked her legs over the seat of equally rickety stool.
She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Damn, she was tired. Tired of holding on when all she wanted to do was finish school, graduate with her PhD in anthropology and start her new job with Anderson Wyatt. The recently discovered cisternas in Peru sang to her with a siren's call of solitude and the chance to find something special. To accomplish something special.
No more strutting across a stage for money. No more pretending she cared what her fellow humans did. Once upon a time she had cared. And lost through betrayal and selfishness. It's why she didn't let others close. Why she didn't get close to anyone. She'd never give herself into someone else's hands again. No one would ever have control over her life.
Lexi opened her eyes and shook her head to get rid of the memories. A pulse of pain throbbed through her jaw. She winced and touched the sore spot on her chin. Bastard. She really should have kicked his ass.
She reached over to drag her backpack to her. Aspirin looked better and better. Her eyes trained on a glaring white square. An odd business card. Picking it up, she held it at eye level fully expecting to see the same blank surface.
"What the hell?" she muttered.
Instead of an empty card staring back at her, two ebony concentric circles filled the space. Sharp-edged sigils cut into the paper separated the inner and outer circles. Smack dab in the center of the inner circle, a hexagram spread its six points wide. She'd seen a fair number of hexagrams and its close cousin, the pentagram, in the class on Western magic she took last semester. Not because she believed in the woo-woo stuff.
Extra credits. Those she believed in.
However, those extra credits had given her more when she realized the class had some interesting history and stories. Since then she'd been hooked. Hooked enough to spend money she shouldn't, on books about Aleister Crowley of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and Gerald Gardner, founder of Wicca. So, she recognized most of the symbols used in the occult.
Her finger traced the outside edges of the large circle. But this one. This sigil didn't look familiar at all. Only the six-pointed star at its center held meaning. Whoever had given it to her meant to say something with that symbol. Witchcraft?
A shudder rippled through her before she shook it off. She'd research the sigil later. After aspirin and a long session of some heavy sleep. After tucking the card into the backpack's side pocket, she slipped out of her bedleh. She stuffed the bag with her veils, pantaloons, bra and beaded belt. Another visit to Wong's Dry Cleaning should perk them right up. Her lips twisted. She really should take better care of her costume. As she pulled her tank top over her head, the doorknob clicked and the door slowly opened.
"Lexi?"
The hesitant voice put her on alert. Sam. Of all the people in Lexi's small circle of acquaintances, this petite waitress was the most dangerous to her peace of mind. A single mother of two, Sam never missed the opportunity to show pictures of her children. Annoying. Really, how many pictures of cute kids could anyone be expected to look at? But that wasn't why she as dangerous.
What made Sam a threat was the waitress's damned innocence. Despite seeing some of the worst behavior her fellow humans could inflict on each other, she had an unfailing optimistic and hopeful attitude. It was that innocence and the-world-is-wonderful belief that called to Lexi. Made her remember things she didn't want to recall.
Sam was someone Lexi could have befriended. In another time and place, maybe. When she had her own innocence. Before the world had kicked her ass. Certainly not now.
"Yeah," she answered and pulled the tank down over her waist.
Sam pushed open the door, her fingers wrapped around the edge. A shy smile stretched her lips, her gentle blue eyes friendly but cautious. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for helping me."
She paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did." Her curled fingers clenched over the wood, the short nails digging into the battered surface.
Lexi watched shadows form in Sam's eyes. Her gut knotted briefly. Man, that was wrong on so many levels. Disconcerted, Lexi lowered her gaze and shrugged. "No worries. I'm sure Gary would have come soon enough," she offered hoping Sam would leave. Lexi didn't need thanks---she needed space.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But not before I could have gotten hurt. So, thank you."
"Yeah, okay, you're welcome." Lexi gave another impatient shrug, willing the apology and sentiment to roll off her back like water on a duck's back.
Freaking sappy feelings didn't though. They stuck to her like super glue. This is why she had to get away. She didn't want to feel, damn it. Feeling brought pain. Brought helplessness. And, deep in a place she tried to ignore, loneliness.
She raised her eyes to find Sam watching her. Confusion tinged with compassion clouded the cool blue expression. How the hell did she manage to maintain that pure look of innocence?
"I'll see you later," Sam said.
Lexi absently nodded. The dressing room door opened and closed, the latch clicking softly as it signaled Sam's departure. For a moment, Lexi stood frozen, her body refusing to move. Her head spun, a leaf blowing in the wind. Too many weird things happening in one day. What had happened to her somewhat quiet, very ordinary, life?
Nudging her body into motion, she pivoted and snatched up her pack. The side struck the table and something within thumped. She frowned, unzipped the large side pocket and reached in. Her fingers brushed against cool metal. Right. Professor Xaviera's gift.
She slid it from the pocket. Bright gold caught the dressing table lights and flashed them at her. When she turned over the box, she heard another dull thump. With her fingernail, she flipped open the tiny hasp and lifted the lid. Her brows went up, and she sucked in a deep breath.
Nestled in a bed of some kind of avian down, a large red stone winked up at her, catching the lights and throwing them into her eyes with a dazzling display of jeweled fire. A ruby? She brushed a finger along the embossed edges, tracing the intaglios carved into the soft metal surrounding the bright center. More unfamiliar sigils. Why on Earth would Professor Xaviera give her such an expensive gift? Didn't matter the reason, she would return it to him tomorrow.
With a fingertip, she started to flip the lid closed. A violent shudder quivered through her. Her finger froze on the metal and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force it to snap the lid shut. An insane urge to pick up the necklace took control of her muscles. As if her body recognized her acquiescence, she could move again. Carefully taking hold of the cool links, she lifted the chain from the box and held the ruby at eye level. The stone rotated sleepily at the end of the links.
A burst of light struck her between the eyes, knocking her head to one side. The necklace slipped from nerveless fingers. "Sonofabitch," she bit off as her teeth ground together with a loud click.
The headache that had been merely tapping inside her skull crashed into a full-blown migraine. She blinked rapidly as bits of snapping pinpoints of light danced before her eyes. No pain, except for the headache. Mostly disorientation mixed with shock at the assault from---.
Where the hell had that light come from?
She shook her head, trying to clear the fluttering dots. Bad idea. Dizziness filled her head with cotton, and she closed her eyes. Motionless, she waited for the world to stop spinning, and then slowly opened her eyes.
After a few seconds, blurry outlines sharpened into the familiar shapes of the dancers' dressing room. The tattered couch, piles of colorful clothing and scarred furniture stood out in stark relief. The cottony impression faded.
Good thing she'd been sitting otherwise that flash would have knocked her on her ass. Lexi glared at the now innocent piece of jewelry resting on the threadbare, puke green carpet. At this moment, the amulet was just an ordinary, and harmless, piece of expensive jewelry. She bent and carefully touched the metal. Nothing happened. She pushed harder. Still nothing.
"Should just leave the damn thing right here," she muttered.
She couldn't return it if she didn't touch it. Curling her fingers around the ruby stone, she picked it up. She held the bauble at eye level again, keeping her eyes narrowed in case the freaking thing flashed at her. Nothing happened. Had she imagined that jolt?
Only momentarily questioning the unusual compulsion, Lexi frowned and slipped the chain over her head. She couldn't seem to convince her mind, or fingers, to let go. She'd take it off when she returned the box and necklace to Xaviera.
After tucking the amulet down the front of her tank, she wrapped the gold box and tucked it back into the side compartment of her pack. At the same instant she finished tying the laces on her boots, the doorknob clicked and the door flew open, crashing into the opposite wall with a crunch. Pieces of drywall drifted down to join the other crap littering the floor.
Christ. The dancers' dressing room had become Grand Central freaking Station. With both hands on her hips, she glared at the intruder, only to feel the glare fade when Howard entered. Her mental alarms screamed "danger, Will Robinson, danger." Her boss should look pissed over the incident with the customers.
He didn't.
That should make her feel at ease.
It didn't.
"Lexi, you were fantastic tonight. Hot and sexy. Really outdid yourself."
Howard sauntered over and stood behind her, staring over the top of her head into the mirror. She kept her expression cool and remote as she stared back. The sour smell of body odor teased her nostrils. Thin lips stretched into a smile. When that particular snarky smile made its appearance, she geared herself, complete with a shield and sword, for a fight.
Hey, when she imagined protection, she went all the way.
Her boss never came to the back except to yell, and he never smiled or offered compliments. Unless he wanted something. She didn't need to sacrifice brain cells to figure out what that something was. Especially if he was ignoring the earlier scuffle. Which, apparently, it seemed he intended to do. She didn't know whether she should be grateful or be running the other way.
"There's a request," he continued when it was obvious she wasn't going to comment. Smart guy. "A very important man wants a private word with you."
Bingo. Almost every night he cajoled, coerced or threatened her into doing a private dance for one of his cronies. She never gave in. He never stopped trying.
Lexi considered making a sign to hold up whenever he came near her. Wonder if brandishing a sign saying Kiss My Ass would get her fired? And would that, necessarily, be a bad thing? Her lips twitched with the effort to keep the grin absent.
"No, Howard, for the hundredth time. I'm not into that shit. Get one of the other girls. How about Heavenly Holly? Most men seem to like her."
Because she watched his face in the mirror, it didn't surprise her when his lips tightened. "He asked for you." He paused as if considering his next move. "He's important," he repeated as if she hadn't heard him the first time.
She sighed. Wanting to make sure he observed the resolve in her face, she turned to face him directly. "I don't care how important he is," she said. "He can play with the other girls all he wants. For the last time, I'm not for sale."
"Damn it, Lexi. This is the last time. I've had it with your refusals."
Howard surged across the room, grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of her seat. Her boot heel caught the edge of the flimsy chair, upending it into the table. Cheap wood cracked and splintered. Perfume bottles tinkled and shattered as they knocked into each other. A mixture of musk, spice and floral scents filled the stuffy room.
Oh, crap!
Lexi tensed, stumbled and tried to wrench free from his grasp. Her first reaction just about cost her a dislocated elbow. Then her hap ki do training flashed into her mind. Instead of continuing the futile effort of wresting her arm from his punishing grip, she let her arm relax. The pinching hold eased. Pushing the advantage, she rotated her wrist as if she were taking a drink then flicked her arm out. Howard's hand fell away. Astonishment, followed by irritation, flooded his ruddy face.
Way to go, Lexi. Sign or no sign, the loss of her job appeared to be a foregone conclusion after all.
"Death---the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening."
Sir Walter Scott
Howard parted his lips, probably to fire her ass. He pulled them shut when the door opened again. The way her evening was going, she expected to see the mysterious dark stranger. Wouldn't that cap her night?
Instead, a man with coppery light-brown hair, hazel eyes touched with gold and a crooked smile, strolled up to Howard and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her boss whirled around. Because he no longer faced her, she couldn't see his expression. However, she did witness the lines of his body turning rigid.
"Tsk, tsk, Howard, I told you to ask her, not bully her." An easy smile played at the corner of her new visitor's mouth, but that didn't lessen the steely message shining in his amber-kissed eyes.
Slender, rather than tall, he radiated confidence and charm. She suspected his classically handsome features helped build his arrogance. Hard to say no to someone who could have been the model for Michelangelo's statue of David.
She saw his fingers clench, digging into Howard's shoulder. If anything, her boss stiffened more. A few seconds later he nodded. Wow. Despite under weighing her boss by at least fifty pounds, he'd gotten Howard to back down.
Brown-hair released Howard's shoulder and turned to Lexi. He met her gaze, his own light and open. Her glance wandered over the silver ash double pocket shirt hanging out over dark, marbled utility pants. Only her imagination knew what the expensively casual fabric covered, and it wasn't sharing.
Damn it.
"My apologies, ma'am," he said. The recognizable Texas accent thrummed through her body. "In my enthusiasm to speak with you, it seems I conveyed a stronger summons than I intended. I'm Jackson McKay."
He offered his hand. She hesitated for a moment then took it but didn't offer her name. After the bare brush of skin to skin, she tried to pull back her arm. Her fingers jerked reflexively when he locked his around her hand. Calluses scraped against her skin.
Terrific. That's what she got for taking his hand. Instead of stomping on his toes as the urge demanded, she lifted her chin and met his smoky look dead on. She hated the Neanderthal crap some men inflicted on women. Big tough guy squeezes little woman's hand as if that's supposed to impress her with his prowess. In and out of bed.
Puh-lease.
Fine. He wanted to play hardball. No problem, she could play caveman too. A slight twist of her wrist and instead of her fingers lying like a wet dishrag in his grasp, her nails dug into his palm. Not that her short nails would do a lot of damage. Just exert enough pressure so he'd realize she was not about to let the tough cowboy beat down the little woman.
First, nail gouging. Next step, a punch to the solar plexus.
McKay released her hand. An expression of respect mixed with something she couldn't identify flashed into his eyes. Without looking away, he jerked his head. "Git. No one comes in."
Howard, who had by this time stepped back and to the side, bent his own head and scuttled to the door. She could almost feel her mouth drop open. Good grief. Her boss, a big mouth, abusive bully kow-towing to someone else? Could the night get any freaking stranger?
Upon her boss's departure, McKay gestured to one of the dancers' chairs. She shook her head. She leaned her backside against the vanity, her palm a mere finger's length from her kubotan. The marker-size defensive weapon she'd discovered during one of her martial arts sessions with her sensei, offered a small measure of self-defense. If he posed a threat. With his clean, urban cowboy-scruffy style, he didn't give off the hair-lifting, crawling vibes of danger. At least, not physical danger.
But, as she well knew, appearances, good or bad, were apt to be deceiving. Put a killer in Armani; he'd still rip out your throat. He'd just look good doing it.
Stop mimicking a shrub, Lexi. "Excuse me."
McKay quirked his eyebrow questioningly, and his grin stretched wider.
"Just because my boss kisses your ass," she continued, and since she was going to lose her job she might as well go all the way, "and your introduction was charming, doesn't mean I'm going to give you a private show."
The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. "I'm not looking for a private, er...show. Although, I wouldn't say no to one." A pause. "I just want to talk."
Uh, huh. Lexi shrugged. "So talk."
"I'll get to the point. You own an object my employer is all worked up about, and he'll pay whatever sum you desire for the transfer of ownership."
The words sounded okay. But something didn't feel right. Was it the smooth, whiskey tone or the overly innocent expression? Or the way he'd made Howard dance at the end of a string like a studly version of Geppetto to Howard's Pinocchio? Either way, her instincts, honed sharp through years of living on the dark side of Chicago, told her his offer was a Trojan horse. Great on the outside; inside, filled with danger waiting to burst free.
"What does your employer think I have?"
"He didn't specify."
"Hmm. And what makes him think I have it?"
A twist of his lips. "Well now, my employer believes you do and he is never wrong, so you must have it. I'm sure if you think hard enough, you'll remember. Said it was something your parents passed to you."
She let out a sharp bark of laughter. "He's wrong now." Her fingers drummed against the table's ledge. "My parents didn't leave me anything."
"Now, darlin'," he said his voice pitched soft and languid. His hazel gaze slipped over her face, traveled down the length of her body and came back up again. "I wouldn't say they left you nothing. A fine young filly like you. I suspect you got all their best qualities."
Mentally, she rolled her eyes. Great. Another man who thought kiss-assery made the difference. Got him what he wanted. Maybe it did for others. Most of the time, charming men just pissed her off.
Adopting an air of nonchalance, while her stomach clenched with annoyance, she said, "I thought you were going to get to the point."
His lips tightened, and his brows lowered. Probably disconcerted that his good looks and Texan allure didn't have her falling over herself to please him.
"Fine." The Texas drawl no longer beguiled. Now it held a sharp, cutting edge. "My employer is certain you have the object and will pay handsomely for it. He has enough money to burn a wet dog. More than you can dream."
"I don't know, I can dream pretty big."
His gaze bored into hers. Finally, McKay nodded then reached into his jacket pocket. Lexi tensed, mentally judging the distance between where she stood and whether she'd be able to strike a pressure point with her kubotan before he pulled out a gun. The odds weren't good.
Instead of a weapon, he removed a tan rectangle. "Here's my card. That's my private number. It will ring me wherever I am. Think about what you're doing. What you're giving up."
With the card, Lexi mockingly saluted him. "Don't hold your breath, cowboy."
"Think about it," he repeated and with a final crooked half-grin, opened the door and sauntered through. She felt her lips quirk into a smile before she could stop the unorthodox reaction. Cheeky bastard.
A few seconds later, she heard raised voices outside the door. The strident near bellow sounded like Howard and the steel-laced soft drawl belonged to McKay. When the door didn't reopen to announce her boss had returned to finish firing her, she quickly removed the rest of her war paint, snatched up her backpack and headed out the door.
Only as she left, did it occur to her that she had received something recently. Not from her parents, but something valuable. She reached up and, through her T-shirt, touched the necklace hanging like a stone around her neck. Was this what he was looking for? But that didn't make sense. Her professor wouldn't have given her something that belonged to someone else. She shrugged. She'd find out tomorrow.
Instead of the raucous clash of noise she expected when she reached the main room, Lexi heard murmuring and the occasional half-hearted cry of protest. The bulk of Blush's lingering crowd consisted of a few patrons who required physical strength to toss them out on their asses. Hence the protests. Since it was nearing three o'clock, the ass-tossing ritual would start soon. Despite the high entertainment value, she didn't plan to stay and watch.
Once outside, the late night, early morning air enveloped her in a moist, comforting blanket. A musty, smoke-filled scent teased her nose. Under the moonless sky, streetlights sporadically glowed and sputtered up and down the avenue. Some places lighter, some considerably murky.
Coming out when the stars came to play didn't bother her. The night was her home. A place where she felt a sense of belonging. Not so much comfortable, never that, but as if the night sheltered her. She pulled back her shoulders and took a deep breath.
"Wait!"
Jolted by the unexpected noise, Lexi jumped. She hadn't heard the front door open or close, and the screech of rubbing metal was hard to miss. Howard had never managed to find the time to oil the hinges, hence the chalkboard-like annoying squeal.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
The melodic tenor washed over her. Well, this was just dandy. The sweet, soft-even-when-shouting voice belonged to Devyn Williams, a just out of high school dancer-in-training. And Lexi's number one fan. How weird was that? Her number one fan was an eighteen-year-old sylph-like girl with aspirations to become the next Lexi.
Devyn had even taken to adopting Lexi's usual off-work outfit of dark jeans and T-shirts. At least the girl hadn't morphed her honey-colored, curly hair into straight black strands. Most of the time she managed to avoid the girl. Not because she didn't like Devyn. If only it was that simple. No, she ran from Devyn because the young girl with the dewy face and crooked, genuine smile reminded her of someone she tried hard to forget.
Herself.
What was it? The misty hint of secrets in Devyn's shiny blue eyes? Maybe. If Lexi stared in a mirror long enough, she figured she'd see her own deeper, darker secrets staring back. Like Sam, Devyn possessed an innocence Lexi's heart yearned for. Something lost to her forever. What a total sap she was. Still, her efforts, at times rude, to stay away from Devyn hadn't affected the girl. If anything, she seemed to double her efforts to pin Lexi down.
"I almost missed you." Excitement flushed Devyn's cheeks, the rose blush unmistakable even under the flickering streetlights. "Gary told me you just left."
Lexi groaned under her breath. Thanks, Gary. She might have to revise her opinion of the big lug. After heaving a huge inward sigh, she commented, "You shouldn't be out here alone."
Devyn tilted her head. "I'm not alone. I'm with you."
Same brash attitude too. "Go back indoors. I'll watch until you're safe inside."
Devyn's lips thinned into a stubborn line. Great. The girl even managed to make a mutinous expression adorable. "You said you'd help me with the backbend."
I did? When Lexi repeated the question aloud, Devyn nodded. "Yes, last week. At Holly's birthday party."
Oh. Right. After a particularly grueling week at school, Lexi had done something she'd never done before. Attended a party with the people she worked with. Maybe it was because she'd been so tired, by the end of the week, her mind had stopped working. So, she'd accepted an invitation to Heavenly Holly's birthday celebration. If that hadn't been bad enough, Lexi had stayed too long. Meaning she hadn't a chance to slip away prior to everyone getting shit-faced drunk. Not a pretty sight. Even gentle Devyn had too much. But much like a terrier, she stayed close. So close, Lexi couldn't shake her, no matter where she went.
Finally, in desperation, she promised to show the inexperienced dancer how to do the Turkish fold, or backbend. The maneuver worked. Devyn backed down. Breathing a sigh of relief at being able to make her escape, Lexi booked and promptly forgot about the promise, counting on Devyn being too drunk to remember.
Obviously, not happening.
Lexi puffed out an exasperated breath. Not only did she not want to spend extra time with the young girl and the memories her presence encouraged, she refused to contribute to the loss of Devyn's innocence. Her foot on the path to becoming a dancer in a strip club only hastened the inevitable loss. It would come; however, Lexi wanted no part of the natural course of life.
The natural course of life.
Shit, she hated that comment. The shrinks she'd been forced to visit after the loss of her parents and then each time she'd been shuffled back and forth between foster home to foster home all spoke the same refrain. As if the loss of innocence in the ways she had experienced were natural in any way.
"Listen, Devyn, I'm pretty busy this week. Let me get..." Lexi's weak excuse died mid-sentence.
The distinctive tinkle of a tin can dancing across the street echoed in the quiet dawn. With the noise behind her, the only clue that the sound meant something bad was the widening of Devyn's eyes. Wide enough to fill the upper part of her face. The girl lifted her hand to her parted lips.
An oh-shit reaction slammed into Lexi's stomach. Definitely not good. She whirled. Her breath left her lungs in a quiet hiss. Six men slithered along the street toward them. The way they moved, and the intent expressions on their faces, caused all of her street instincts to scream a warning. She stepped in front of the younger girl.
"Oh, man," Lexi muttered. They were too damn far away from the club to hide beneath its dubious shelter. Her gaze tracked up and down the quiet streets. And other than the six men sidling toward them, no one stirred within the shadows. The streets were still. Deserted. Not all that unusual for three o'clock in the morning, but tonight, the city felt too deserted.
"Lexi, what's going on? Do you know those men?"
"Quiet," she snapped, ignoring the niceties of explanation in favor of expedience. She gestured for Devyn to stay behind her. Maybe the men hadn't noticed the girl.
With her hands in front of her, palms outward, Lexi stood relaxed. She focused on the lead man sensing he was the star in this little play. His body language should telegraph what he planned to do. And, depending on just how determined, and drunk, he and his cronies were, she might be able to talk them into backing off. Otherwise, someone was going to get hurt. She was skilled but had no mistaken illusions about how skilled she was. With six adrenaline-hopped men, the odds were she was going to be the one hurt. And Devyn. Especially Devyn with her innocence and lack of street skills.
Those odds sucked.
"Gentlemen," Lexi began in the most conciliatory tone she could manage while her insides twisted and tangled. "Blush is closed for the evening. If you're still looking for fun, the Kitty Kat is open twenty-four hours. It's just two blocks over."
"Yeah, we want to have fun an' you're going to help us."
The leader's slurred words gurgled from his mouth as if he spoke through mouthwash. His lips firmed, and his chin jutted out slightly. He took another step closer, hanging right at the edge of her personal zone. Lexi resisted the urge to retreat, knowing such a move would only encourage him. Just like in the movies, on the streets, prey ran and predators attacked.
She had no intentions of being anyone's dinner.
"You need directions?" she offered.
He froze, but his gaze flitted from side to side as if he searched for an escape route. The perplexed expression furrowing his brow clearly said he had anticipated a different response. Maybe he thought she'd start whining and pleading. So not her style.
God, she hoped Devyn would keep quiet. As long as the situation stayed calm, there was a chance the two of them could make it out of this. Taking advantage of his confusion, Lexi smiled and this time, she did step back, keeping her palms outward in a non-threatening sign.
"Listen," she cajoled. "I really think you'll like the Kitty Kat. The girls there are much prettier, and they have bigger boobs."
Like a side step of movement, a stygian shadow fluttered over him, settling over his head like a crown. She squinted. Nebulous as smoke, the shadow blended into the night. A mere flicker of pitch-black slithering against the normal dark of the night. She shouldn't even have noticed the difference. Yet she had.
He shuddered and shifted from a regular, albeit, shit-faced drunk, to something that resembled one of those staring mannequins stores were fond of using. All expression on his face was wiped clean. A human Etch-a-Sketch. Nothing on his face. Nothing in his eyes. No white gleaming in the dusk half dark. Only huge, light-swallowing pupils.
Except for his initial comments, he made no sound. His shoes padded against concrete with a dull thump. As he closed in, the freaky dead look and roiling shadow gave her serious heebie jeebies. A chill rippled through her body, goose bumps popping up on her arms and legs.
Worse, as he advanced, his buddies followed. Lexi cast a quick glance over her shoulder, and then snapped her eyes forward. Double damn. Another man had slipped up behind them and had Devyn restrained, her arms pinned to her side. Quick, panting breaths echoed through the conspicuously quiet night like a chainsaw, but the girl didn't scream. At this moment, Lexi couldn't do anything for her. The realization twisted her insides. Why the compulsion to protect Devyn's ass when she should be worrying about her own?
Plastering a mollifying smile on her face, Lexi focused on the leader and the rest of his gang. Some instinct warned her, and she threw up her left arm, blocking the upper punch aiming for her chin with the flat side of her forearm. Nerve endings throbbed with the force of the blow, and she bit off a curse. If not for her instincts, the strike would have connected in a vulnerable spot and the fight would have been over with before it had even begun. Not too bright, Lex. Pay attention!
Nonplussed, she went on the offensive and slammed him with a side thrust to his midsection. He staggered, but didn't fall. One of his buddies, a tall, Ichabod-Craneish man with tight black curly hair, lunged for her. A forward roll of her hips and a front snap kick striking Ichabod's chin sent him crashing to the ground. One down. Too damn many to go.
Lexi danced back, fists raised. No way could she handle all six. But, before she went down, she'd make sure a lot of them would be nursing some serious hurt. And if she was lucky, a couple of broken bones.
The welcome wail of an approaching siren echoed through the quiet streets. Ah, the cavalry comes. She'd never been so glad to have the cops come. The leader's buddies, in a strangely coordinated move, spun and made for the deep shadows, dissipating into the alleys and side streets.
Her assailant didn't move. Uncertainty twitched at the corners of his lips. He started to turn away, a wobbly twist of his body but turned back. A shudder in the darkness around him told Lexi the shadow was back. Earlier, she'd joked about McKay controlling her boss like a puppeteer, but with this guy, it was apparent that something was jerking his strings. What the hell was it? And how could it be controlling him?
When he moved, it was to pull out a gun from behind his back. The bottom fell out of her stomach. A slam of fear pierced her chest, leaving behind a racing heart. Oh fuck. He held a 45-caliber semi-auto Colt pointed directly at her chest.
She hated guns. No, more than hated--she loathed guns. Over the years, too many of her street companions, including her best friend and the sister she'd never had, had lived and died at the end of a gun.
But hatred didn't mean she didn't know guns. Stupid to live on the streets and not know about them. The one he pointed at her couldn't fail to inflict maximum damage.
Several cracks of sound bled into one loud spine-shuddering snap that shattered the unearthly silence. One drawn out crack followed by several breath-sucking punches in her chest. As if she stood outside her own body, she watched him pull the trigger until rapid clicking indicated he'd emptied the Colt's clip.
Agony filled her chest, spreading outward until all her nerve endings shrieked with pain. She let out an involuntary scream and sank to her knees. A warm, wet sensation cascading down the front of her shirt soothed the fire on her skin. She peered at her chest. Red on red. Except for the dampness, she couldn't even tell where her blood ended and her clothing began.
A nervous giggle rose then settled into her throat as a big lump. She tipped sideways, hit the pavement then rolled to her back. Starting in her toes, an icy cold crept through her body, following the same path as the pain yet leaving behind...nothing. No pain, no fear, no sensations of any kind. She coughed, catching it with her hand. When she pulled her hand away, it too was splattered with crimson. A light metallic scent, like warm coins; a tangy smell.
Her blood.
Lexi looked upward. The lightening sky showed capering sparks of light, glittering like diamonds. A gurgling sigh escaped her lips. As if from a distance, she heard the wails of the sirens getting closer.
Who the hell was screaming?
Veils of gray oozed across her vision, pulling the dancing pinpoints from her view. A motion out of the corner of her eyes snagged her attention. She rolled her head to the side to look. A light-stealing black mist floated near her. Her mind babbled an incoherent warning and her body tried to recoil from the mist. Nothing worked. Not her legs. Not her arms. She couldn't move. All she could do was watch her death approach.
Suddenly, the horrible mist spun, whirling into a miniature funnel then disappeared. Footsteps sounded nearby, confident and quick. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to focus. For a second, she clearly saw a man approaching her. The dark-haired man from the nightclub, his chin shadowed with the beginnings of a beard, came to a stop at her side. He crouched, looming over her. Coldness continued to creep through her chest, leaving behind peace. She couldn't bring herself to wonder why, or care, he was there.
He glanced down her body then stopped over her chest. For an instant, his glance sharpened. He mumbled in Latin and passed his hand over her chest. Black eyes overflowed from within by silver light. The vague outline of dark wings filled the space behind him. A sense of the absurd filled her mind as her vision dimmed.
Great.
Her last sight on Earth happened to be a sexy hallucination with glowing eyes and wings.
"A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing possibility."
Aristotle
Lucifer's balls! Beliel ripped from the human male's subconscious, not caring whether he damaged the mortal's mind. Plague take all humans. Once possessed, no mortal slave should have any thoughts except those of his master. The fact that the puny human had been able to act without Beliel's direction rested outside his comprehension. A tribute to the human's strength or the demon's weakness?
The man staggered a few steps backward. Eyes wide in an ashen face darted around before coming to rest on the woman he'd shot. The weapon fell to the ground, the clatter of metal on pavement sounding like another shot. The mortal rubbed his hands on his pant legs, shook his head and fled.
Beliel choked back the rage and fought the temptation to chase after the fleeing human. To rend flesh from bones. To gulp chunks of tender meat, muscles and tendons. To taste the sweet, warm stickiness of human blood running over his tongue into his gullet. It had been a long time since he'd indulged in the pleasures found dining on humans. Yet even as he hungered, in this form, he could not. He shuddered. This was not the time or the place.
He switched his hungry gaze to the fallen female. Thick blood, pulsing with each beat of her heart, flowed onto the hard, dark surface. She was more important now. And soon dead. He had to act quickly to get the information he needed from her mind. Before the traitor, Mikos, came to check on his ward.
Beliel shifted into mist and moved near. When her eyes tracked his movements, he hesitated. Confusion, followed by fear, filled her death-shaded gaze. Did she notice him? No matter. Her seeing made no difference. Humans were terrified of their own mortality and would do anything to extend their pitiful lives. Defender or not, this woman would be no different.
With no warning, a whisper of disturbance in the ether brushed across his senses. A psychic probe stabbed into his shield. His barrier held. Still, the energy left an impression.
He and the woman were no longer alone.
Beliel watched in impotent fury as the traitor Mikos knelt at the woman's side. So fucking close.
He could not take on Mikos while his strength was so depleted. Occupying the mortal during the confrontation had used too much. Instead, all he could do was watch. No earth-level immortal, especially a Fallen like Mikos, could return the dead to life. And the woman had died. In the instant before Mikos knelt, Beliel had heard the pounding of her heart trip into silence.
His lips curled. Mikos, and others like him, had chosen to serve God even when He had said many times the Fallen would never be welcome in Heaven. The cowards spent centuries protecting the humans in the slight hope their deeds would grant them a return. None had. Still they served.
That made them fools. Dangerous. But fools.
A faint roseate glow infused the space between Mikos's hand and the woman's chest, growing brighter until the pink light cast a soft aura over the woman. Involuntarily, Beliel hissed. He knew that light.
"The Nativitas," he ground the word out, ending on another hiss.
Revulsion rose, filling his throat with bile. The rose-colored light meant the Defender possessed the only thing blessed with the power to bring her back to life. Beliel slanted a glare at the smaller figures shifting near his feet. The ones who had braved his ire and stayed by his side. "Worthless imps."
His anger and frustration had been for naught. A result of his personal servants' lapse of judgment in not telling him she possessed the ancient protection. With a flick of his hands, he sent the imps tumbling back into the demon realm. He'd deal with them later.
Despite his repugnance for the ancient talisman, her possession of it set his plan back in motion. He contemplated the supine woman and kneeling immortal. The woman choked and then moaned. Without seeing the results of the Nativitas, Beliel knew the female's wounds had healed, knitting until no sign of her death remained. The roseate nimbus faded. As the piercing scream of mortal transportation echoed in the night, Mikos lifted the limp woman into his arms and strode off down the street.
Beliel clenched his fingers into fists. As the night swallowed their forms, he hissed a summons. A small ghostlight orb hovered over his outstretched fingers. "Follow Mikos and discover where he takes the woman."
A flash of light and the orb disappeared. The ghostlight would report back the woman's location. The traitor could only hide her for so long. Satisfaction caused a smile to pull at the corner of his lips. With the woman's life restored, he'd find it easier to get what he needed from her. Now, at least, he had more time. Not much, but still more. And this time, he'd see to the woman himself.
A muscle twitched in the man's square jaw yet he did nothing. The early morning breeze caught the edges of his pristine garments, sending the gold fringe dancing. The clothing on his body to the bronze scepter he clutched in his hand and even the reed sandals protecting his bare feet were specifically formed as instructed. For this moment.
A single moment to free the man's soul or damn it, and his people, for eternity.
Her gaze fell to the polished bronze of the meter-high jar crouched on a fan-shaped base in the sand before him. Protective sigils flared, a golden burst of light. Her eyebrows lifted. Did the symbols know of the man's weakness? His sin?
Other than a reflexive jerk when the symbols flashed, the man still did nothing except stare.
She eyed the horizon. Dawn tinted the sky with swirls of gold, amber and rust. She inhaled, dragging in the rich earth-scents following the wind before the piquant, musky odor dissipated in the brightening sky. The appointed hour grew near.
Still, she watched. He waited.
Utu-shamshi rose into the early morning sky, the blazing orb bathing the painted desert in radiant warmth. A movement from the corner of her eyes pulled her attention back to him.
Finally.
As the coolness of early morning gave way to the heat of the day, he pointed at the jar and recited the summoning invocation,
"O Spiritus ego impero tu, O daemons in quicumque partes de ille universum tu existo, ad virtus de haec Sanctus nomen et ad ille Sanctus nomen of Deus quis litterae in sanguis in ille signum de an aeternus societas."
The invocation, intoned in precise fashion, reverberated throughout the fragrant air. To her fatigued and aching eyes, each word, as if possessed of corporeal form, cavorted upon the temperate wind.
He lifted his hand skyward. On his third finger, a circle of pale gold shimmered. The clear scarlet center stone, cut with the five-lines of the pentalpha, caught utu-shamshi's glow and reflected the light. This fragile band, with its single sigil, and the man's faith, such that it remained, were the only protections he had against the malignant forces he called. He slipped the ring from his finger and, while he continued to chant, held the small oval before his face.
Without warning, shrieks and wails shattered the peace of the light-laden morning. A cacophony of noise throbbed through her head and was followed by a crackling, dry-reed sound, like that of thousand of locusts. Insubstantial shapes whirled and spun about her head, their forms little more than wispy shades, yet they held back utu-shamshi's light. The sour odor of spoiled eggs came with them. The foul scent so strong she fought the urge to retch.
The man fell silent. Behind the silence, dread and uncertainty curled around her. Moisture pooled along her spine and traveled down the length of her back. Under her helm, long curls of hair stuck to clammy skin. Her gaze swung upward and focused on the man's lifted hand. Brown-spotted and twisted fingers showed the marked signs of many seasons past. And trembled with the effort to constantly battle the powerful spirits he sought to imprison.
She shifted, impatience chasing away the doubt. It had to be now. Now, before the stability of the man's once great mind failed along with his body. Before she could intervene, the man's shoulders pulled back and stiffened. For a brief moment, the breeze subsided. Nothing moved. Even the insects that thirsted for human blood were frozen in mid-flight. The only sound was that of his labored breathing as he fought to command the spirits he'd summoned.
We offer enough wealth to fill the deepest water and a kingdom that stretches far into the desert. She jerked at the sly voices whispered into the man's mind. How did she hear them? Beautiful women who will spread their legs at your command. Slaves to toil over your fields, in your house and in your temples.
Power and wisdom to rival your Lord.
We can give you all of this and more. All you have to do is let us go.
Beautus dei, did he have the strength to resist? She curled her fingers into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The spirits tempted him with all that he desired. Traveling that path meant death and an eternity in the oppressive dark and coldness of the Abyss. If he gave in, all was lost. Yet, she could not take this on for him. This task was not for her.
As seconds stretched into minutes, she began to fear the spirits had won. Suddenly, he shook his head and sucked in a rasping breath. Shutting out the spirits' offerings, he began again.
She heard the effect of his struggle in the roughness of his voice. Then she heard nothing except the roar that howled across the vast desert as notus, a great wind entity, captured the battling Fallen and whirled them into a violent funnel of energy. Sand kicked up and pelted her exposed skin. Pulling her cloak around her face, she shielded her flesh from the worst of the scouring. Despite the torment, she stood motionless even though every fiber of her soul wanted to run.
With the bound Fallen in its raging center, notus spun toward the bronze vessel where the force of the wind thrust the demons into the jar. Blessed silence fell over the desert when the lid slammed shut.
With her fingertips, she brushed the fine grit from her face. Service completed, notus returned to his abode in the south. He finished the binding magic and inscribed the seal to imprison the demons for all eternity.
It is done. Little by little, warmth crept back into her body.
The jar pulsed, the swollen sides rising and falling like the bellows of the forge. Again, the sigils briefly flamed golden. After carefully closing the great book containing the spells and incantations he'd used to control the spirits, the man exhaled a ragged sigh. His chin lowered until it almost touched his chest.
"It is done," he repeated her very words as if by speaking them out loud, he could be certain.
He lifted his head and regarded the large boulder behind which his attendants cowered. "Come, it is time," he called. "Remove the vessel."
At first cautious, the four men came out from behind the rock. They looked around, their eyes wide. She knew they would have heard the sounds, if not the offers, of the Fallen.
"Do not fear," he said. "The spirits are contained."
To her surprise, instead of remaining wary and thus cautious, the men surged forward. In their haste, one bumped up against the vessel. She choked as the jar rocked and tilted. The man's hand slapped down on bare metal. When skin met the vessel's surface, the sigils under his palm erupted. He screamed and fell to the ground. Heels drummed the ground and his back bowed until he was nearly bent in half. The other men cried out and stumbled backwards, tripping over each other as they retreated.
"God save us!" she heard a cry as she moved. "A land-bound demon."
Her robes snapped in the air, loud pops of sound like old branches cracking underfoot, as she ran toward the downed man. As she neared, he raised himself up into a crouch. No longer in the guise of a devoted servant, the man's eyes, as black as the darkest part of the night, glared at her. The attendant's thin lips stretched away from brown teeth, and he hissed. A forked tongue tasted the air before disappearing.
Without slowing, she unsheathed her sword from under the dust-covered robes and slashed at the land-dwelling demon possessing a mortal's body. The whistle of the blade as it cut through the air was followed by a wet, sucking noise, like that of walking in the thick mud that lined the Nile's edges. His head rolled into the sand before coming to rest against a large stone. Dead eyes turned skyward. From the severed neck of the body, a dark oily mist rose, spun into a column, then burst outward like an exploding piece of fruit before it dissipated.
She wiped dark blood from the blade then returned it to its resting place. How long had the attendant been possessed? And what would have happened if he hadn't stumbled? Her stomach twisted and her meal from the morning soured.
She pivoted and her gaze met his. She read horror in his wide eyes and in the white edging his lips. Even while her own mind screamed with frustration, she said nothing. What could she? A demon had resided in his own house, among his most trusted, and he'd not known. If she'd needed more proof that King Solomon, once the most powerful and revered man in all the lands, was little more than a shell of his former self, she had it.
Ignoring her for the moment, he faced his remaining attendants. Pale faces, grayed by dust or terror, turned toward him. He jerked his head. "Move the vessel, but carefully. Do not break the urn or dislodge the seal."
His words were harsh. Good. His attendants risked everything with their careless haste. No repetition of the ritual was possible. Not for another passing of the seasons. Grunts and soft curses filled the morning as the three men struggled to load the bronze jar into the cart.
Once fresh straw hid the vessel from prying eyes, Solomon walked over to the cart and handed one of the men the animal skin wrapped book. "This must go. Do not allow anyone to take the book. Bury them together."
The man bobbed his head and climbed into the cart. With a loud clatter over the rock-strewn path, the oxen-drawn wagon rumbled away. She closed her eyes, relief flooding her body from top to bottom. For a moment, she listened to the fading sound of the beasts' hooves striking against the rocks. Heat crawled over her exposed skin, irritating the abrasions from the earlier barrage of sand and rocks. She opened her eyes. Again, she met his gaze.
He turned his head, angling it toward her. "You will ensure its protection?"
She lifted her chin. As if he needed to ask. She gave him a brief nod, but did not reply. She knew her duty. Her family spent lifetimes defending the tribes against monsters. Those that walked the land. And those that skulked in the shadows.
Yet, she was different. The first woman in her family's line to serve
He looked down, fingertips stroking the leather cover of the grimoire.
"Take it." He offered the book. "You and your descendants will need it if you are to keep the Vessel safe."
She kept her surprise hidden and stepped forward. Calloused fingers brushed against his smooth ones as she accepted the grimoire. His eyes widened. She, too, felt the slight pulse of energy. So, Solomon retained some of his magic. Taking her hand back, she stepped away and swung up on to her stallion. She pulled his dark head around. Putting heels to hide, she sent the horse galloping after the cart.
The protection of the Vessel was her onus. Her burden. Her responsibility. Her right hand curled protectively around the slight bulge at her hips. And those of her line. She must not, would not, fail. The lives of the human race depended on the protection of the Vessel.
No matter the temptations. No matter the evil that stalked her even now.
Lexi sat up with a gasp, and her eyes popped open. God, what a dream. Though she hadn't moved, her heart raced, hulking in her throat instead of resting comfortably within her chest. The damn dream had felt so real. Desert heat and pungent scents lingered on her skin and in her nose. She shivered. Even her tongue seemed to scrape grit from her lips. She half lifted from the cushions then fell back into the soft depths. The room did a slow spin before settling. Damn, just what had happened last night?
The last thing she recalled with any degree of clarity was the confrontation with Howard and the mysterious McKay. Everything after that wouldn't materialize. The harder she tried to grab the images, the faster they slipped away.
Her gaze swept the room, and her eyes widened. Where the hell was she? Certainly, not in her clean, if messy, apartment. Had she, somehow, ended up in a hotel? On second thought, not a hotel. Not with the gorgeous beige, olive and red chobi sirjand Oriental rug glittering on the floor like a jewel. And certainly not with the abundance of historical relics of various shapes, sizes and materials spread about the room as if the owner simply tossed them there. An archeologist's paradise. The kind of stuff she'd expect to see in a museum. Someone had fantastic, and expensive, taste.
Definitely not her sparse, economically efficient apartment.
She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. The light coverlet over her shoulders drifted to the priceless rug. She tugged at the bottom of her tank lowering it over her stomach. At least she still had on her street clothes. Wrinkled and twisted, but still there. Her battered backpack rested on the floor near where her head had been.
"Hello," she called out. Her voice didn't so much echo as fall flat. Hollow.
Praying the woozy sensation had dissipated, she stood. Her gaze shifted about the room, wandering over an item and then moving on. Until she saw the objects sitting on the wide marble shelf over the big ass fireplace. Excitement pushed her to the antique mantel.
Every inch of the warm ochre and beige marble was covered with Canopic jars, small funerary vases used by ancient Egyptians to guard the viscera of mummified corpses. The lid of each vase depicted a representative god's head, one of the four sons of Horus. Each god guarded a particular organ. Baboon-headed Hapy guarded the lungs, Kebehsenuef, the falcon, protected the intestines, Duamutef watched over the stomach and Imsety defended the liver.
Her fingers itched to trace the outline of each god's head, the smoothness of the alabaster, the speckled granite, the pitted limestone and cold bronze. All begged to be touched. Admired. Coveted. No way were these tourist souvenirs.
"Damn, Lexi, what the hell are you doing?" she muttered. Sure, the collection was fantastic, but she didn't belong here.
Wherever here was.
Time to go. She looked around the room. Blinked a couple of times. Then looked again. Where the hell was the door? Nothing that looked like an exit, not even a window. Just walls covered in priceless archeological treasures.
"Hey! Where's the damn door?"
Nothing. No sounds of people moving about beyond the walls. Just that same weird echo bouncing her words back to her. Her searching gaze passed over the large executive type desk sitting near one wall and stopped.
She cocked her head. Strange. The rock lying on the ornate desk covered with scrolls screamed look at me. The lump of stone, dark gray, about seven inches in length and two inches in diameter rested on a pile of paper. Hmm. An ornamental rock. Like the ones avid gardeners actually pay money for to put in their gardens. Smooth looking, a few silver flecks scattered about the surface. Pretty, but still a rock.
She poked the surface then snatched her finger back, curling it into her palm. Good grief. Instead of hard, cold stone, her fingertip encountered malleable, warm softness. A stress ball of some type? She pushed harder.
"Watch it, sister!" the rock rumbled. "I bruise easily."
Lexi let out a startled yelp and froze. Crap! Her gaze swept the room, coming to rest on the rock. "Did the freaking rock just speak to me?"
"Listen, doll. I'm not a rock," a snow-tread-on-road crunchy voice replied. "And in case you feel compelled to insult me more, I'm not ordinary or common, either." The rock twitched, shivered and a pair of silver eyes peeped out from the surface. And blinked.
Holy shit, the thing was alive.
"You a defender? Hmm," the rock continued, his rough tone now sounding petulant. "Definitely a looker. Not too bright though. Imagine. Mistaking me for a rock."
The hunk of stone did a vibrating thing then changed. Into a little figure, still dark gray, still silver eyed, but in miniature human form. A miniature human form wearing a jet black and white striped double-breasted suit complete with black and white wing tip shoes and a black fedora with a white band.
She took another half step backward. "I'm dreaming, right?" she mumbled. "I have to be because there's no way I'm standing here watching a rock turn into a faery."
The faery man put his hands on his hips. "Listen, doll, as I said, I'm not a rock. And I'm not a faery. I'm a shapeshifter." His low grating rumble suggested he was annoyed.
"What the hell difference does that make?" Lexi slapped a hand over her mouth. Damn it. Was she really talking to a rock?
The faery, er, shapeshifter made an exasperated sound, which sounded suspiciously like a raspberry. He opened his mouth to speak. Oh, hell no.
"Never mind. My dream," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. No way was she going to argue with a figment of her imagination. "Well, at least my location makes sense," she continued, her eyes tracking around the room. "Sort of."
She looked down at the shapeshifter. His head was cocked, reminding her of a puppy listening to a human talk.
"Why do you think you're dreaming?" he asked.
Lexi grunted. "I have to be. I'm in a room that could showcase Archeological Objects R Us and talking to a rock."
"I told you, I'm not a rock."
"Fine, shapeshifter, whatever. Still not real."
The pseudo-rock snorted. "I'm as real as you are."
"Whatever," she said again then looked about the room. "How do I get out of here?"
Might as well see how far her dream world went. If she could talk to a rock, she could certainly ask it how to leave.
"You get out of here when the boss says you can."
"The boss?"
The shapeshifter, the height of an Elmo doll with a much leaner figure, sans the red fur, walked over to one of the rolled up scrolls and kicked the parchment to the side. "Yeah, the boss." His tone sounded distant, distracted. He bent over, peered at the writing, scowled then continued, "He runs things around here. If he wants you to stay, you stay."
Had she entered a mob movie? "All right, Al Capone. Where's your boss?"
The little, er, man snorted. "For a gorgeous dame, you have quite a mouth." He glanced up at her, his expression expectant. "By the way, the name is Rocky."
"How original."
Rocky shrugged, seemingly unoffended by her sarcastic comment. "My real name can't be pronounced by humans. The boss gave me this one."
"Cute." Lexi slid into the executive high back chair in front of the desk. This put her within a foot or two of Rocky.
She eyed him. He now scanned a smaller scroll lying flat, his mouth moving as he read. Dark hair, gray skin and silver eyes. Her dream mind had certainly fashioned an interesting character.
"Excuse me, um, Rocky."
Lexi had to call his name twice to get his attention from the scroll. He looked up, one tiny eyebrow raised. "So, back to me leaving."
"I told you," he said. "You can't leave until Mikos allows you to."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Who's Mikos?"
Rocky walked over until to stand within inches of Lexi's nose. It was all she could do to not move away. If the mutated landscape ornament tried to bite her nose, she was going to squash him.
"The boss. He's an an---" His cheeks flushed. "He's a sorcerer."
Lexi laughed. "Right. A sorcerer." She watched too many movies if her subconscious had such ideas tucked away.
Rocky screwed up his face in indignation and opened his mouth. Whatever he'd been about to say evaporated. He shut his mouth and cocked his head.
"Gotta go." A popping sound and Rocky blinked out of existence.
Poof. One minute there; the next not. For a moment, Lexi didn't move and stared at the empty spot.
She knuckled her eyes and stared again. Still gone. Lifting the corner of one of the scrolls, she peered underneath. Nope, he wasn't there. Not even as a freaking rock. She twisted at the waist, looked under the desk then jerked upright. The little bastard had simply disappeared.
A soft click, the sound of a door opening, came from behind her. Lexi lurched to her feet. On the way up, her knee slammed into the underneath of the heavy wooden desk. "Shit!" Pain stabbed her knee followed by a tingling sensation. She staggered backward and knocked into the chair with the back of her heel. Damn it!
She bent over, vigorously rubbing the abused spot then glanced up and froze. What a picture she must make. Ass in the air, rubbing her knee and her mouth hanging open like a large-mouth bass. So what. All she could think was one word. Wow. Her imagination deserved a standing ovation.
The man standing in front of the wall wasn't GQ handsome like copper-haired, perfectly featured Jackson McKay. No way would this man be mistaken for a pretty boy. His rugged features had too much strength. And way too much arrogance in the stubborn set of his square chin.
From beneath his long-sleeve navy turtleneck and blue jeans, power fairly screamed from his pores. Inky hair gleamed in the soft lights, the wavy thickness begging to be touched. A whisper of a beard etched his strong jaw. Broad shoulders completed the picture. Everything about the man seemed bigger. Imposing. Confident.
And familiar. Very familiar.
Lexi straightened and reversed a half step. Something clicked, and a memory ripped through her mind. Her hands reached out for support, grabbing onto the back of a large side chair. Fingertips dug into the velvet. She'd seen him. At Blush.
The night she...died.
A migraine crashed into existence, wiping out all thoughts of her banged knee and heel. She clutched at her chest---the spot over her heart. A cold shiver traveled down her spine, pooling at the base. She remembered. The shot. The punch of the bullet into her chest, shredding skin and splintering bone. Tearing straight into her heart. She'd died.
Died.
Lexi sucked in a deep breath and held it. With trembling fingers, she lifted the bottom hem of her red T-shirt. A quick scan showed unmarked skin. She pawed her fingers across the smooth surface. Not a single mark. Or scar. No blood stained her skin or her T-shirt. Not a damn sign that anything had happened. Just an expanse of olive flesh that mocked the vivid memory stealing her breath away.
She exhaled in a rush. Impossible. Yet she distinctly remembered the shot. Make that shots. And dying. The agony. The ice cold. Finally, the lack of feeling. Of anything.
Lexi lifted her gaze to meet the dark eyes of the man standing before her. Except him. She remembered him.
And his wings. Big, dark.
Real?
"I'm pleased you're awake," he said. His even tone matched the flat expression on his face as if he didn't realize the import of what happened. Of what she'd seen.
"Who---," her throat clenched cutting her off. She swallowed heavily and began again, "Who the hell are you?"
He bent in a half bow. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his lips when he looked up. "My name is Mikos Tyomni."
His voice, low and whisky smooth, eased through her body. A shudder started at her toes and worked its way up to her fingertips. When goose bumps lifted the hair on her arms, she glanced down. Sonofabitch. Where had those come from?
"How are you feeling?" he continued.
"How do you think I feel?" Lexi shoved aside her mimic of a statute. "I don't know where I am. I think I died and somehow I can talk to a rock, and..." She froze, her tirade trailing off.
Too many impressions whirled through her mind. The migraine bore down hard, pressing in like a vice over her skull. She'd died, come back to life, woke up in a strange room, talked to a rock and now the poster boy for power and charisma cocked his head at her, his expression fascinated as if he could almost hear her jumble of confused thoughts.
He moved toward her. His seemingly stalking pace struck another familiar chord. She sucked in a hiss. This can't be real. He can't be real. If he was real then so was her death.
After making sure the desk remained between her and the man, Lexi looked wildly around the room. Could she reach the wall filled with a wide assortment of blades and medieval weapons? Not likely.
Moving on, her darting gaze caught a flash of silver from the corner of her eye. She lunged and snatched up a metal letter opener. What a freaking cliché. Still, when she pointed it at him, he stopped.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
Uh, huh. "You were there. In the audience." She swallowed again. "Outside."
He nodded, his face shuttered. Not a dream. Not going insane. Something else entirely. Confusion tightened her dry throat. Like a broken record, she kept going back to her vision. She'd seen the wings. Hadn't she?
"Will you please put down the letter opener?" he continued.
"When you tell me what happened to me. And why I'm here." She gestured around the room. "Wherever here is."
"You are in my home and are perfectly safe. If I wanted you harmed, I would have already done so." He jerked his head at the couch. "While you were sleeping."
Damn, he had her there. She set down the letter opener but kept her fingers close. "Fine. It's down. Now talk."
"As to what happened. You died."
Her head snapped back, and her hand flew to her throat. "How is that even possible?" she whispered.
"You wear the amulet."
Her fingers slid down to cover the pendant. "This?"
He nodded. "It saved your life."
Holy crap.
"You are a defender," he continued when she didn't say anything further, "descended from an ancient line of hereditary champions charged by the Light with the protection of the human race against the powers of darkness. I've been assigned to help you fulfill your destiny."
At his words, Lexi's whole defensive posture deflated like a popped balloon. Good god. She had a destiny? She barely had a life.
"Right---," she dragged out the syllables. "And what destiny is that?"
Okay, so her voice sounded patronizing. Not her problem. At the sight of the muscle ticking in his jaw, he'd obviously noted the same.
"I am speaking the truth, Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison."
She felt her mouth drop open. With an audible snap, she forced it closed. Jesus. He knew her full name. She barely remembered her own freakishly long name. To hear it spoken aloud by a stranger went beyond surprise. It took a great leap into fucking unbelievable.
She didn't use her complete name. Ever. Besides its humungous length, the words were just letters strung together. No meaning. Like her parents' names. Just letters typed neatly on her birth certificate. Sierra Beauregard and Alexander Thermopolis Harrison.
They hadn't even been married. All the couple bequeathed her was a single photograph and a cumbersome name. All she had left of the people who'd brought her into this world.
"Don't call me that. It's my name, but I don't use it."
"Your parents told you nothing of your heritage?"
A surprising amount of pain swept through Lexi at the matter-of-fact statement and the compassion in his gaze. She clenched her hands into fists, willing the sense of loss to go away. To remain buried where it had been for over twenty years.
"Listen, buddy, my parents died when I was five. I have the name they gave me, that's all." She flipped her hands upward. "Why the hell I'm even telling you this much I have no idea."
Meeting his look straight on, she scowled. "You have the wrong woman."
Mikos matched her stare, his eyes narrowed. In thought or anger? She couldn't tell. A careful step to the left, barely a breath of movement, put her closer to the place she'd seen him enter. She didn't see a door, but he had to come in somehow.
"I do not think so," he replied. "You are the woman I seek."
"Right. Sure I am." A half grin stretched her lips. Aside from her supposed death she---didn't even know how to explain that---the only thing that came to mind is that Mikos Tyomni was obviously off his medication.
"Listen, can I call someone for you? A nurse, maybe?"
Mikos' brows dropped into a frown. "I am sorry, Alexandria. The transmission of knowledge from your parents would have made this transition easier."
She ignored his confusion, focusing on his use of that freaking name for the second damn time. "Stop calling me Alexandria. If you have to use a name, call me Lexi."
He bent his head. "Very well. Lexi."
For a moment, her anger faded. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. Even the harsh X dripped from his mouth like honey. Thick and sweet, with a sensual bite.
She looked at him closely. Despite the possibility she spoke with a crazy man, she liked looking at his face. The hard edges and deep lines at the corner of his mouth spoke of pain and struggle. Her type of pain and struggle. Or nearly like it.
The longer she stared at his face, more like studied his face, the more her insides felt as if a salvo of butterflies played games in her stomach. Unfortunately, she couldn't blame the current state of her stomach and racing heart on the whole death thing.
Fine. She scowled. Not just on the whole death thing.
"I appreciate your situation." His voice was pitched soft and soothing. "Without your parents' teachings, you've lost the benefit of lifetimes of history. Nevertheless, you are a defender. Even now, an evil darkness walks the world seeking a dangerous relic. It is your destiny to save your race."
"Are you crazy?" Way to go. Insult the strange man while you're locked in his home. "I don't even like my race," she continued. "Why would I want to save them?"
"You are human, yes?" His brows knitted.
What's with the way he spoke? Stilted. Formal. As if English was a second language.
"Yeah, I'm human," she said. "Like you. That still doesn't mean I like people. For the most part, I wouldn't care if every last one was wiped from the planet."
"A defender who hates humanity? Interesting."
By this time, Lexi had moved out from behind the dubious protection of the desk. Mikos might be walking the fine line of insanity, but he didn't appear to want to harm her. At least, not physically. He'd made no threatening gestures, and his body language, while tense, didn't ring any of her alarms. Her mind?
Another matter entirely.
Did the fact he might be whacked out stop her? As a dancer, she dealt with crazy on a regular basis. With barely a foot separating her from him, she poked at Sir Mikos-whatever's chest. Maybe not the smartest move she'd ever made, but she could feel her temper burning hotter. She wanted out. Despite the size of the room, bigger than her apartment times two, the walls seemed to close in on her.
She took a deep breath, pushing down the anxiety curling in her gut. "Listen, pretty boy," she said, even though pretty was not a word she'd use to describe him. It felt insulting. Right now insulting worked for her. Took her focus off the shrinking room.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm done. I'm going home." Lexi paused and looked around. "Once I figure out where the hell you've put the door."
When she returned her gaze to him, the room faded away. Her breath caught on an exhale. The longer she held his eyes, the more she saw things behind the unfathomable depths.
Dark and powerful things.
Amorphous things. Emotions. Neither good nor evil, but shades of both. And Lexi sensed something else. The same thing she saw in the lines of his face.
Deep, soul-drowning loss.
Finally Mikos looked away, and she heaved a mental sigh of relief. When he glanced down at the finger still pressed against his chest, she yanked the wayward appendage back.
He swept his fingers through his hair. "Lexi, you are in danger. They will come for you."
"Who's coming for me?" An absurd urge to giggle bubbled in her chest. "And I've already died once. What's worse than that?"
He scowled, and his pupils danced with sparks of light. "Lexi." His tongue and lips caressed each individual letter. She resisted the tickle of unseen fingers rippling along her spine. "There are worse things than being dead."
She couldn't disagree. Every day she breathed in and out and on too many days to count, living was like being dead.
"Every day's an adventure is my motto," Lexi tossed at him. "Listen, this has been fun, but I've got to get back to the real world. You gonna point me to the door?"
For a moment, Mikos studied her, his attention unwavering. A part of Lexi wanted to duck and hide under that perceptive stare. Or shuffle her feet. Another part wanted to walk up to him and run her fingers through his midnight hair to see if it felt as soft as it looked. Screw that thought. How'd it get into her head in the first place? Out, out damn spot.
Lexi knuckled both hands into fists on her hips when Mikos didn't immediately, or sooner, respond. "Well?"
"It seems I have no choice."
"Duh."
Mikos nodded and stepped back. Just behind him, a door shimmered into view. A door that no way in hell had been there earlier.
Lexi glanced back and forth between the door and Mikos until she felt as if she watched a tennis match. The crazy, albeit unthreatening, man simply leaned against the back of the couch. The fabric of his turtleneck pulled against his broad shoulders. A new glint in his dark eyes contained humor, not anger or annoyance. That glint and the slight lift of the corners of his mouth spoke volumes to Lexi.
Yum, take me now.
Oh, for God's sake. Lexi gave a mental groan. She had no business thinking of Mikos like that. The man was certifiably insane. Had to be. She couldn't explain her supposed death and resurrection. Or the talking rock. She didn't even try. Not without some serious alcohol.
"We are not finished, Lexi. I will come to you again."
The words had a stiff, grating sound as if they'd been forced from his mouth. As if letting her go went against his intentions. And, as if seeing her again was equally as bad.
She scowled. "Don't bother. I don't care, and I'm not interested in whatever you're selling."
And she truly didn't care. Sure, maybe she should find out what he meant, but she couldn't bring herself to feel concern. It sounded as if he expected her to have faith. Faith was something she no longer possessed. Faith in goodness, faith in others and certainly not faith in a supposedly all-powerful God who let so many evil things happen to innocents. She'd been naïve and innocent once.
Innocent. As that thought crossed her mind, it was followed by another. Jesus, Devyn. What the hell was the matter with her? She'd forgotten all about Devyn.
The last thing she clearly remembered about Devyn was the man who held her. The harder she tried to recall more, the faster her memories fragmented.
God, she'd never be able to forgive herself if that happened. Or if anything had happened. A part of her recognized the irrational thought filling her mind, but she didn't care. If Devyn hadn't come out to find out about an unkept promise, the young girl would have stayed inside, safe behind four walls. Instead, she was either with those men, her innocence shattered or worse, lying dead.
And it would be Lexi's fault.
"Is something the matter?"
Lexi raised her eyes to find Mikos studying her. She shook her head and impatiently pulled her rambling thoughts together.
"Nothing."
"Maybe I can help."
Lexi snorted. "I doubt it." She strode across the room.
"Remember what I said, Alexandria," he said, his tone serene. Implacable. "We are not finished."
"Sure, we are," Lexi challenged over her shoulder and stepped through the now visible and open doorway. "Go find yourself another stupid girl. I've got better things to do." Like talk to her professor about the golden box and find out what happened to Devyn. Oh, and finish her dissertation.
Piece of cake.
"Even when you think you have your life all mapped out, things happen that shape your destiny in ways you might never have imagined."
Deepak Chopra
Mikos watched her go. His mouth pulled into a grimace. Hell and damn. He hadn't expected the mortal to refuse. On the contrary. He had expected her to embrace her destiny with no questions or concerns. Was it because she was a female? With the notable exception of one, most past defenders were male. Men who understood honor and responsibility.
"The woman clearly does not understand duty," he muttered. "Why can she not be like the others?"
"That is because she is different."
Mikos recognized the calm, even-handed tone that always sounded as if the speaker had no emotions. Those who knew him however, knew he was all about emotions. Turning around, Mikos met the pure, brilliant blue of Archangel Michael's eyes. Dressed all in white, a white so pure it singed the eyes, the Prince of Light and leader of the Angelic Host smiled, a warm, easy smile.
"Mikos."
"Find another," Mikos bit off the words, disregarding the courtesy of a greeting. If the archangel wanted politeness, he should have chosen someone else.
A sense of urgency, of importance, left Mikos quivering with foreign emotions. Uneasiness and the desire to run, to flee from the demands of the task. He was not a coward---he'd fought and won in tougher situations. So why did his instincts scream danger?
"It is my wish."
"If I refuse?"
"You would do so? Even knowing the suffering to come?" A pause. Heavy silence weighed on Mikos's shoulders. "Even knowing your chance at redemption would disappear?" Michael finished.
"A threat?" Mikos scowled. Back muscles throbbed as his wings ached to explode from their confines. To flee from the demands of the task Michael set before him. A task that already threatened to upset his carefully cultivated plans.
"Not a threat. A choice."
Damnation. Another choice that wasn't a choice. Mikos's mind's eye flashed with the memory of the woman who had just left. Long black hair fell in soft waves to the middle of her back. Sooty lashes framed cinnamon-shaded eyes touched with the shadows of loneliness and betrayal. High cheekbones dominated a face much too strong for delicacy, yet arresting in its strength. The real danger to his soul etched in every sensuous line of her supple body.
A test? Another battle to fight with his baser instincts?
Or another chance to fail?
Maybe his last.
"There is no one else," Michael said, his voice stark yet gentle.
Unyielding.
Unsurprising.
Mikos growled, his jaw clenching. By the Light, he had no other choice. Not if he wanted to save his soul. He nodded, not yet trusting his voice. Or words.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet, Archangel." Mikos turned away. So much for silence.
"Mikos ne'Tyomni." The hard, humorless edge of Michael's tone and the use of Mikos's full name yanked him around.
"You must not fail in this task. Not only does your fate rest in your success, but also the fate of mortals. She must take up the mantle of a defender. It is past time for her to do so."
With the final admonition, Michael disappeared in an intense burst of silvery radiance that left dancing motes of light sparking behind Mikos's vision.
He rubbed the top of his hand under his jaw. Save me from cryptic archangels. Smothering a growl, he walked over to the couch. When he sat, he convinced himself he could feel the flush of heat from Lexi's body lingering in the cushions. He closed his eyes and let himself drift. Her vanilla and cinnamon scent warmed him, left him with sensations he didn't want. Or need. They reminded him too much of what he'd been before he changed.
His mind burned with the memory of the women. His first contacts with the darker emotions. Lust. Greed. Pride.
Lust had come first. The lush figures of the mortal women, their long hair cascading over naked skin glowing with a vitality that drew him like a bee to honey. The sweetly intoxicating musk of warm bodies and the salty taste of silken female flesh. Tender fingers that danced over heated flesh. Hunger swelled, the memories of soul-touching ecstasy flooding his body.
Mikos sucked in air and jerked upright, his heart wedged in his throat. Beatus Deus, it had been a long time since he'd let himself recall his past. Why now? Because of the woman? Despite the exotic tilt of her eyes and full lips, he'd seen lovelier. And with sweeter dispositions. Yet, since he'd seen her dance, she'd touched the part of him he'd locked down when he left Hell. When he'd realized the soul-stealing error he'd made so many thousands of years ago.
Mikos ran fingers through his hair. Long ago, unexplainable lust for mortal women had weakened him, leaving him open to the lure of a charismatic being who believed he was better than the mortals he protected. Who refused to be subservient to men made of frail material. Who felt betrayed by God's love for the humans.
Two hundred souls agreed with Lucifer, and one of them was Mikos. He didn't blame Lucifer. After all, Mikos chose the pleasures of the flesh over duty. He'd not make that mistake again.
The air shifted. "So, boss, what now?" Agrigorockie, the shapeshifter Mikos had christened as Rocky blinked into view. "The hot dame didn't stay long. You scare her away?"
Mikos frowned and rose to his feet. Rocky hovered about five inches from his face. A tribute to his distraction in that he'd not sensed the imp's arrival.
"Stay with her," Mikos said ignoring Rocky's question. "Notify me immediately if there is trouble."
Rocky tilted his head. "You expecting any?" The way the shapeshifter's eyes glowed with liquid silver glee, he welcomed the potential.
"I always expect trouble."
"Don't worry, I can handle it." With a popping sound, Rocky teleported to wherever the woman abided.
Mikos sighed. He couldn't fail. The defender had to accept her duty. He looked skyward, staring at the ceiling as if he could peer beyond the physical surface to the heavens beyond. His soul cried out. Deep, wrenching loss translating into agony that took his insides and twisted them into knots of loneliness. After thousands of years, he was so close. Soon he'd be home.
The reluctant mortal would assume her destiny.
After a long and freaking expensive taxi ride from Mikos's place, Lexi stood in front of Blush. She had to find out about Devyn. Her lips twisted. How could she have gone from off-handedly offering a belly dance lesson to giving a shit about a starry-eyed wannabe?
Still, she should have been able to protect an innocent. Her inner critic snickered, reminding Lexi she hadn't even been able to protect herself.
Lexi glanced at her watch. Four o'clock. Had she really been at Mikos's for thirteen hours? The loss of time left her with a sour stomach. Hunger or nerves?
She sighed and eyed the entrance. Open the door and walk in, she chided. It was just the right time for Big Joe to be there. He knew everything about everything and everyone. For a numbers cruncher, he had his fingers on the pulse of Chicago.
Yet, she still didn't want to go in there. She couldn't explain why. The hassle with the drunks, the interactions with Howard and that Jackson guy, and, of course, what happened after all that, added up to a justifiable, if unexplainable, concern.
For Pete's sake. Since when did she back down from anything?
Straightening her shoulders, Lexi shoved the rusty door and stepped inside. After the bright sunlight outside, the dim lighting in Blush made her pause to let her eyes adjust. Her gaze followed the light.
Above the rich red mahogany of the bar with its gleaming brass accents, an ornate chandelier glowed softly. Bare-breasted, gold-painted figures postured above the large mirror behind the bar. She felt like cringing each time she saw the tacky décor.
Where was everyone? Or really, anyone? Odd that no one stood behind the bar. There was usually at least one bartender on duty no matter the hour. And even though the dancers didn't arrive until later, a few patrons started their drinking early. Not today. An eerie quiet hung in the club like a heavy, suffocating blanket.
She turned around to face the stage. "Gary? Howard?" At her voice, something moved. A flicker in the shadows. "Hey, who's there?"
No response. Backlit from the stage lights, the shadow was only a human form. No discernable features or shape to identify male or female. Lexi tensed. Just as the shadow neared, she recognized the silent figure.
"Regina, what the hell are you doing?" Terrific. The last person she wanted to see stood in front of her. Regina, a new dancer, had latched onto Gary like a camel finding an oasis in the desert. There was something about the woman that left a sour taste in Lexi's mouth. Not that she'd actually done anything. Maybe it was the way she had latched onto Gary.
"Hello, Lexi."
Was it a trick of the light that made Regina's eyes seem as blank as the guy from the night before? Cold fingers danced up Lexi's spine, leaving her with the desire to turn around and beat feet for the door.
Instead, she squared her shoulders. "Isn't it a bit early for you?"
Still staring at her, Regina didn't respond. Lexi took a half step, intending to go around the strange girl, when Regina spoke.
"I'm just waiting for Gary. Howard asked him to stop by."
With that, as Lexi watched, Regina's gaze shifted, her brown eyes once again...human.
A man's voice, raised in ire, echoed from the offices in the back. The voice had a clipped, edgy tone. When Gary stepped into the main area, Lexi couldn't stop the surprise widening her eyes. Gary? That in-your-face tone belonged to nice Gary?
For all his appearance of a contender for WWF, Gary's normal voice had a soft quality to it that was completely non-existent at this moment.
He stopped when he saw her, then his face split into a wide grin. "Hey, Lexi," he said, his voice returning to its regular soft, friendly tone. What happened to the hard edge? "I'm glad to see you. How ya doin'?"
The bouncer came up next to Regina and wrapped an arm around her waist. Lexi's brow lifted. Taking a risk aren't you, big boy? Their boss, Howard, discouraged interaction, in all its forms, between his employees.
"I'm good," she replied. "You guys seen Devyn? I promised her a dance lesson. Figured I had time today. Is she here?"
Gary shook his head. "Not here. Haven't seen her, not since last night. Not since she left with you."
Left with me?
As if he realized he said something he shouldn't have, he swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing. A swelling of uneasiness rose up inside Lexi. The world had turned topsy-turvy, everyone acting like someone she didn't know, hadn't worked with for two years and it had started with the man from last night.
Mikos.
Maybe he hadn't had anything to do with the guys at the club, but her life had turned to crap after she'd seen Mikos in the audience. Irrational? Possibly, but she couldn't shake the feeling that with his arrival, everything had changed.
Still. She opened her mouth to challenge Gary's comment about Devyn being with Lexi. Obviously he knew more than he admitted. Maybe even what happened to her.
"Ah, Lexi, dear, I didn't expect to see you today."
Big Joe, a long-time patron of the club and a person Lexi usually enjoyed chatting with, came out from the shadows behind the bar. When the hell had he arrived? A person couldn't get into the freaking club without that damn squeaky front door announcing entry. If she judged by the wide-eyed expression on Gary's face, Big Joe's presence had come as a shock.
"Hey, Joe." Lexi kept her tone airy, unconcerned, but never removed her eyes from Gary's shiny face. "Skulking in the dark?"
From the corner of her eye, she saw Joe's round face quiver in what might pass as a smile, yet his pale brown eyes were chips of stone when he looked at...Regina.
Not Gary. Regina. Lexi had never seen the short accountant with anything except a constant state of amusement on his face. Not now. Hard lines etched deep into his forehead and at the corner of his mouth.
"We gotta go," Gary stammered, his pale face glowing like a beacon in the dim light. He grabbed Regina's arm and propelled her in front of him when it appeared she wanted to stay.
Go? Go where? The question had barely formed in her mind before Gary and Regina slipped through the shadows at the back of the stage and disappeared. The distant sound of the back exit door slamming echoed.
Lexi scowled. Shit. Joe had perfect timing. Now she'd have to wait to find out what Gary knew.
"Lexi, my dear, Devyn is not your concern." Joe spoke in an unusual, gentle tone.
With a deliberately casual movement opposed to her current confused condition, Lexi regarded the man coming from out of the shadows near the bar.
Still the same short, rotund man she'd known for a couple of years. However, his twinkling brown eyes told a different story. No longer hard, they held that ages-old wisdom that totally clashed with the image of a lust-crazed accountant.
"Excuse me?"
Joe sighed. "Lexi, you are neither stupid nor dense. Please do not act so now."
Lexi reared back. Holy hell. Shock careened through her body. Stupid? Dense? And where had the cultured tone come from?
"Devyn's whereabouts are not important," he continued. "And you are not responsible for what happened. You merely waste time by searching for her."
"I'm wasting time? For crying out loud, Joe, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fate of the world. A fate you allow to come closer the longer you fight your destiny."
"Oh, God, not you too." Lexi groaned out the words, exasperation and annoyance fighting for dominance. "What is this? Remakes of the old Candid Camera television show?"
She reached blindly behind and pulled out a chair. Lexi lowered herself into the wooden seat, okay fell, and rested her elbows on the scarred table. Cupping her head in her hands, she muttered to the pitted surface, "This is ridiculous. What happened to my fairly normal, if a bit boring, life?"
Okay, maybe belly dancing in an exotic dance club while attending college wasn't exactly normal. But it was a life. And it had a purpose. Get a degree. Get out of Chicago.
Another chair creaked as Joe sat. She lifted her head. His serene brown eyes were mild and contemplative. Not hers. Her expression had to be as bleak as she felt.
Something clicked in her brain. "Wait. How do you know what's going on?"
Obviously ignoring her question, the jerk, he continued, "I know this is an unexpected, and unwanted, burden. I'm certain that if Sierra and Alexander knew their fate, they would have not chosen to travel to Egypt."
She barely registered everything he said, but clearly heard him mention her parents. And the manner in which he did. "You knew my parents?"
Joe nodded. "Indeed. More so your father. Your heritage comes from him."
Her mouth dropped open. Snapping it shut she said, "Great. My father left me one hell of a legacy."
"Lexi, I know all of this is a shock---"
Talk about an understatement. "That's putting it mildly, Joe," she interrupted, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
He nodded again. "As unfortunate as your childhood began, it doesn't change the fact this is your destiny. And you are greatly needed. More than you know."
"What makes you an expert?" Lexi lowered her voice, her head moving from side to side as she peered into the dark before continuing, "Are you, ah, an angel?"
She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth. Was she really asking Joe if he was an angel? Yep, definitely losing her mind. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd made a connection between Mikos, his wings and angels. It was the only thing to explain her current foot-in-mouth disease.
"What I am is not important. Suffice it to say, I know more than it appears." He held up a hand to halt her next words. "You have more pressing matters than finding one lost girl. You must save your fellow humans."
"I'm supposed to save my fellow humans?" Lexi repeated. When he didn't respond, she lifted her gaze skyward. "I don't even care about my freaking fellow humans!"
She was starting to feel like a parrot. After all, she'd had this same conversation with Mikos. Lexi lowered her head and met Joe's placid countenance. Damn him. "What if I don't want this destiny?"
"Then the human race will perish."
"We become just by performing just actions, temperate by performing temperate actions, brave by performing brave actions."
Aristotle
Lexi didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Reality had taken a walk leaving behind a mishmash of secrets, lies and disguises.
"You've got to be joking, Joe," she said when she'd finally found her voice. "The powers-that-be have chosen me to save the world? Isn't there some other person, maybe one destined for sainthood that would do a better job?"
"There is no one else, Lexi."
"I feel pretty sorry for the world then." She pushed back, the chair's legs dragging against the wood floor. Howard hated when patrons did that. He didn't like to spend the money to buff out the scratches. And why the hell was she thinking of this now?
Joe didn't move. He simply stared up at her, his eyes brimming with empathy. And concern. For her or the world?
"Don't look at me like that." She didn't like the way his pursed lips and narrowed gaze made her feel. As if she let him down. "How long have you known me? In all that time, what have I done to make you, or anyone, think I give a damn about the rest of the world?"
"Your heart says otherwise."
"My heart?" She laughed, a brief bark of sound that even to her sounded, well, just wrong. "My heart is an organ that pumps blood. It doesn't feel, or care. It's just there."
Much like me, she added to herself.
Joe sighed, a heavy sigh as if the weight of the world rested on his round shoulders. "If that is true then your race will not survive what will come should you not take up your destiny."
Great. An attempt to transfer the weight from his shoulders to hers. "Don't lay that on me."
He opened his mouth as if to say something more. She held up a hand. "You know what? I've had it. I'm going back to school and my job, such as it is. When I've graduated, I'm leaving. The world can take care of itself."
With that final parting shot, Lexi spun and left, the metal door squealing on its hinges.
The next day Lexi strode the near empty hallways at Haskell Hall. She was long overdue to talk to him about the gold box, the amulet and now Mikos. If anyone could help her make sense of this mess, it was the only person she trusted. Besides, despite his odd behavior two nights ago, she needed something to take her mind off the events of the last several days.
Including her strange conversation with Joe. Who the hell was he anyway?
When she'd asked him that question, he'd replied with a straight man's face that he was a poor accountant in love with an exotic dancer. Once he'd delivered his bombshell comment, he said nothing further except for reiterating she should not try to find Devyn.
Lexi's confident step faltered for a moment, the sharp click of her boot heels skipping a beat. What was she going to do? Listen to Joe or her own heart? That such a decision needed to be made boggled her mind.
The nearly deserted hallways echoed, casting the sounds of her footsteps against and bouncing off walls. Noticing the tomb-like stillness, she hesitated in front of the Professor's closed door. Again. Even though classes hadn't begun, she was used to seeing and hearing a level of bustle non-existent this afternoon.
Something was definitely wrong. Not with the silence of the building or the closed door. Professor Xaviera was always in. His office never looked dark like it did now. Her gut knotted. Based on the way her last couple of days had gone, she didn't expect his absence to be a good thing. She grasped the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door.
Her first impression corrected her assumption that his office was dark. It wasn't. Not completely. A brass lamp cast a soft glow, reflecting off the scarred, polished mahogany of the antique desk. The light offered a soothing contrast to the deep shadows, but since the environment it highlighted was so at odds with the way he normally kept his desk, there was nothing comforting about it.
No Archeology Magazine or National Geographic issues were stacked precariously near the lamp. No numerous snippets of reports and tattered pieces of handwritten notes spread out on the desktop. All the usual mess was gone. Except for a pristine desk blotter, the desk was disturbingly bare.
Lexi bit her lower lip and ran her gaze around the room. Swirls of unease curled up her spine. Rattled by the unusual state of his office, she skittered away from the desk. As she did, she saw a flash of white under his chair. She crouched.
"You shouldn't be in here."
Shit! Lexi started, scooped up the card and jerked upright. On the way up, she caught her hip on the corner of the desk.
"Ouch! Damn it!" She muttered a few other choice words and slid the business card into her jeans pocket. While rubbing her throbbing hip, she turned to glare at the intruder.
The student standing in the doorway glared back at her. He looked familiar. Small-boned, medium height, with tight curls of dark hair capping a too-little head. At the same time she remembered where she'd seen him, he said, "Hey, you were in the Professor's night class. Me too. I'm Pete."
Pete came further into the room, a smile stretching his lips wide. The flash of his white teeth looked insincere in the dim light. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. No one is allowed in here," he continued.
Lexi held back a sarcastic comment about her professor's office being open to anyone when a thought occurred to her. "Wait, what did you mean when you said I was in the Professor's night class?"
Pete stopped his advance. A momentary expression of discomfort crossed his broad face. "You haven't heard?"
"I haven't heard what?"
"The Professor's been killed. Someone slit his throat. I wasn't supposed to hear, but I heard a cop tell the other he was killed with some kind of sword."
Pete lowered his voice and leaned in. "They said he was practically decapitated."
Lexi reeled, her hand coming down hard on the desk to support her suddenly weak body. Professor Xaviera was dead? Killed? By a sword?
"I thought everyone knew. The police only just released the Professor's office. Not much in the way of clues, I guess, but you know..." His voice trailed off. "Hey, you okay?"
She looked up to see Pete poised near her, his hand raised as if he intended to offer assistance. She waved him off then asked, "When?"
"Two nights ago."
Two nights ago? That would make it Monday. The last day she'd seen him. The day he'd given her that box with the strange amulet carefully protected inside. The same amulet which pressed against her chest, but now felt as if it had increased a ton in weight.
The same amulet that had supposedly saved her life.
An urge to rip the freaking thing from her neck and throw it into Lake Michigan filled her mind. Could it be a coincidence that Professor Xaviera was murdered the day she received the amulet? From him?
"Listen, you want to go and get some, uh, coffee or something? You look pale."
Lexi turned her gaze on Pete. His gaze flattened, and he stepped back a bit. She could only guess at what he saw in her expression. Were her eyes as shocked and wild as she felt?
She shook her head. "Thanks, Pete, but I can't. I need to, um, go to the library to meet some friends."
Great, Lexi, thought you were a much better liar than that. She pasted a weak smile on her face. She could tell Pete didn't buy her lame excuse, but was grateful she turned him down. Probably wondered if she was losing it. Hell, she wondered the same thing herself.
Not caring if she alarmed Pete further, Lexi ducked around him, tore out the office and fled back down the hallway.
Slamming open the outside double doors, she avoided clipping an entering couple by fractions of an inch. She mumbled an apology and dashed down the stairs.
Only several blocks away did she slow. When had things started spinning out of control? All she wanted was to be left alone. To finish school. To create a new life somewhere else.
Two fucking days. That's all it had taken for her life to come crashing around her.
Lexi opened the door to her apartment. After tossing her backpack onto the ratty piece of furniture that passed for a couch, she headed for the kitchen. She rubbed her temples, her head screaming for an aspirin. Or two. Then a shower. And food. In that order.
Halfway to the kitchen, she stopped. Her nose wrinkled. What the hell was that smell? She sucked in a deep sniff. The stench, a cross between rotten eggs and wet ashes, seemed to fill the small space.
"Terrific." She sighed. Despite keeping very little food in her fridge, something had gone bad. Seriously bad. Her stomach churned. So much for food. Pivoting around, she headed to her bedroom.
"Nice place you have. A bit shabby, but it does have a certain rustic charm." The cold, clipped tone cut into the silence.
Lexi whirled and stumbled backward a couple of steps until she bumped into the end table. The lamp wobbled, tipping toward her. Instinctively, she grabbed it, never taking her eyes from the man. At least she thought it was a man.
The man-shaped...thing stood near her front door. Skin of glossy black, dark as the darkest coal, and etched with strange ruby sigils glowing in a vivid display of color. Matching the hue of the swirling symbols, his eyes shone deep red, like a carmine pool of blood.
Holy hell. She didn't know what to say. Yanking her mouth shut, she swallowed.
"Get the hell out," Lexi finally said in a low voice taut with anger. She ignored the fear turning the blood in her veins to ice water.
Her apartment was her sanctuary. She didn't care who, or what, he was. Or even if he was a milestone on her path to a breakdown. No one had ever invaded her home before. Suddenly, her sanctuary felt unclean.
"Tsk, tsk, that's no way to speak to a guest." His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality like an evil purr. "Wouldn't you like to know who I am and why I'm here?"
Lexi barely kept from shuddering. Tinged with a deep bass tone, his voice reverberated through her body, flicking her nerves until they jumped and all she wanted to do was run.
"I don't care. Just get out."
The man raised a brow and shook his head. He strolled over to the window, the natty gray duster he wore swirling about his legs. She hadn't really noticed the coat, her attention fixed on the coal-black skin.
He stared out the glass. Without turning around, he asked, "Would you care if I told you I was here to change your life?"
He'd turned to face her. Now his red eyes held a hint of churning bruise-shaded yellow. Their gazes collided, his scrutiny seemingly measuring her with a cool appraising look. A single look, that if she read correctly, appeared to not only judge but to dismiss her as inconsequential.
Lexi lifted her chin. Screw him. Like she gave a flying fig.
"I've had enough life changing experiences, thank you. Get out. I'm not telling you again." Lexi eyed the distances to her backpack and the kitchen. Either held something she could use as a weapon. Could she get there before he attacked?
At the same time, the feeling that weapons would have little to no effect on him crossed her mind. Still. She'd take that chance rather than stand here and let him continue to defile her home.
A faraway part of her wondered how, when, she'd stepped from disbelief to belief. But then, why not? After all, she'd died and had the ability to talk to rocks.
"Oh, I think you'll like this," he continued, sliding her a flat glance.
He, it, she didn't know what to call him, waved his hand. The room spun, her furniture and the pictures on her walls blurring into one jumbled mass of brightly, swirling pigment.
After a teeth jarring halt, the spinning stopped, leaving her standing on shaky legs in the center of a cute Martha Stewart-like cozy living room crowded with soft touches like fluffy pillows, wispy curtains and framed pictures of happy people, their smiles filling half their faces.
She twisted, her eyes sweeping around the room, taking in everything. The black-skinned man was gone.
"Hello?" she called out not really expecting to receive a response but needing to hear something echoing in the tomb-like stillness of the room.
As she expected, no one responded. She walked over to a grouping of pictures on a side table. The faces in them pulled at her. One showed a couple with two children, a boy and a girl. She bent and looked closer, her focus on the woman. The mother?
Lexi's stomach did a somersault then stopped, sitting like a block of ice in her abdomen. The mother's face had her features. Slightly different, more rounded and soft, long, wavy hair, but still her face looked back at her.
Transfixed, she moved her attention to the two children. The girl, more so than the boy, also bore touches of Lexi's features. Fascinated, she reached out and stroked a finger down the girl's cheek imagining she could feel the silky smooth surface.
"This appeals to you?" The deep bass was back.
Although she stiffened, this time, she didn't face him. All she could to do was take in the life the pictures depicted. The snapshots that showed the her-but-not-her likeness in various scenes with the man and the two children.
"You could have this life," the cold, flat tone left her feeling chilled despite the fire flickering merrily in the fireplace. "A family of your own, a life where you don't have to expose your body to the lust of men. This could be yours."
For a price.
He didn't have to say the words. She heard them anyway. A family of her own? She'd never had that, not really. Since her parents died while she was still so young, her memories were of being shuffled from foster home to foster home. Not all the families were bad. Most just didn't care to get close to a lonely child not their own.
Only in the deep recesses of her heart could she admit she was tempted. She remembered the nights when she'd dreamed of having a family. She could never comprehend the other kids who talked about how awful their parents were and how yucky it was to have a sister or brother. Lexi would have given up anything to experience what those kids did.
She turned from the pictures. The man---it?---from her apartment stood in the center of the room, confidence oozing from his wide stance. Like he knew what he offered was everything Lexi had ever wanted.
A similar recognition of the sensation of power in Mikos's eyes had swept through her. Except, unlike Mikos's, the soul behind this man's regard was as pitch-black as the skin under the colorful designs.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I want to give this life to you."
She snorted. "That's not what I'm asking. What do you want from me in exchange for this?" Lexi waved her hand, encompassing the room, the pictures and the chance to have a family of her own.
"It's simple, really. You possess something of mine. Give it to me, and I will give you what you've always wanted."
Unnerved, she stared at him, her mind spinning. "I don't know what you are talking about."
Was he, whatever the hell he was, McKay's mysterious employer? "I don't have anything of yours."
She didn't know what he wanted. Come to think of it, she couldn't recall if McKay even told her what the mysterious object was.
"Indeed." His eyes narrowed. "You lie."
She glared at him. "Go to hell."
The man threw back his head and laughed, a bark of sound that raised goose bumps along her arms and legs. "Very well. I have found that humans like to negotiate. We'll negotiate."
He walked over and sat down in one of the Queen Anne chairs near the table with the pictures. The fragile chair creaked under the strain, as if it might collapse at any second.
"As I said, you possess a certain object that belongs to me," he continued. "The object is of little worth or consequence, still it has some intrinsic value. Of a personal nature."
Uh, huh. Anxiety muted by the stilted tone of his voice told her the object meant quite a bit to him. "What is this object I'm supposed to have, and why is it so important to you?"
"My brethren are being kept locked away. I want them released. You have the Key."
He picked up one of the pictures---the one of the Lexi-like mother and the two children. His gaze focused on the photograph, a smirk twisting his lips. Shivers danced across her arms again.
"A key?" Forcing back the surge of uneasiness ripping through her, Lexi shook her head. "The only keys I have are for my apartment."
The man gave an impatient shrug. "Yes, a Key, but not like your human keys. The Key is a book."
"A book? That makes no freaking sense." Lexi rolled her eyes. "The only books I have are on the shelf." She started to gesture to her few shelves of books. "Oh right, I'm not in my apartment. Guess you're out of luck."
She knew she was being sarcastic and also knew it might not be such a good idea but she couldn't seem to stop herself.
An eyebrow lifted. Yellow churned wildly in the intent gaze. "Do you think to play games with me? I know you possess the Key."
Games? What did he think this was? A version of Deal or No Deal? Except, instead of a chance to win money, her prize for picking the right case, in this case meaning a book, was a family of her own.
"Very well," he said. "Here is the bargain. I will give you forty-eight hours to decide whether you want this..." He held the frame up. "Or this," he finished.
In that instant, Lexi was back in her sparsely furnished, uncluttered apartment. A stab of loneliness briefly took her breath away. Bare windows looking out at more buildings just like her own. No pictures of a happy family. She wobbled on her legs.
"Forty-eight hours to decide. No more." A shimmer, and his form wavered.
"Wait," Lexi called out before she could stop herself. What the hell was she doing? "If I don't need the forty-eight hours, how do I call you?"
"Speak my name. I will hear."
He didn't continue. When his silence stretched, she planted her hands on her hips. "Well?" she asked, hearing the impatience ringing in her voice.
"Beliel, King of Demons." He bowed, then disappeared.
Open-mouthed, Lexi stared at the empty space the man calling himself a demon, a freaking demon, had vacated. The scent of sulfur lay heavy in the air. Was this for real? She didn't believe in demons.
Or ghosts, faeries, mermaids, vampires, werewolves, angels or unicorns.
Or stones that morphed into tiny humans.
Lexi, get a grip. What else could a man with coal-black skin and ruby eyes be except a demon?
She staggered into her bedroom and collapsed across her bed. The soft down of the comforter enveloped her, wrapping her in the sensation of warm arms. She lay there, trying to calm her galloping heart and untangle the knot in her stomach.
Did she want the perfect life he offered? A family of her own? Children? A husband? Little house, white picket fence?
Why shouldn't she? She barely remembered her parents. When she said all she had left from them was a cumbersome name, she wasn't fibbing. Except, of her father, she had one clear memory. His hug the day he died.
The woodsy scent she now knew to be sandalwood, clung about his body as he pulled her to him, his large hands brushing through her hair. He'd whispered something to her, yet no matter how hard she tried to recall his words, they slipped away leaving her frustrated. It seemed she should know what he said.
Of her mother, she remembered nothing. No images. No feelings. No sensations.
Lexi blew out a puff of air. Too many things were happening. She felt as if she could barely take a breath much less attempt any understanding of the events stacking up like dominos. One strong push and the whole mess would topple, one after the other increasing in speed until reaching the end.
And her sanity was at the end.
After a few minutes, Lexi pushed herself to her feet. Bemoaning her situation and her past didn't do anything for her future. She needed that shower. And food. Maybe those routine tasks would help her put things into perspective.
She pulled off her top and pants, tossing them to the floor. By the other assorted piles spread about the room, it was past time to do laundry. Groaning inwardly at the thought, she headed to the shower.
Clad only in her bra and panties, her hair bouncing wetly against her neck, Lexi padded back into her bedroom. She picked up her discarded clothes then automatically put her hands into the right pocket of her jeans. At the stinging pain, she hissed and jerked her hand from her pocket bringing out a small white card, which fluttered to the floor.
A freaking paper cut. With her aching finger tucked into her mouth, she bent and picked up the card. She frowned.
Oh yeah, the business card Gary gave her. And the one from her professor's office. She touched a finger to the surface. Thin black lines formed on the surface, shaping into a familiar, if unknown, sigil. She pulled her hand back. The lines held for a few seconds then faded. Damn it, both cards were the same.
"Hiya, doll!"
Caught off guard, Lexi jumped, the card fluttering from her fingers. Again. Her lips thinned.
The grating voice was unfortunately familiar and totally unwelcome. With both hands on her hips, she turned around. Rocky stood on her coffee table, humor glinting in his silver eyes. Good grief. Was he wearing a zoot suit?
"Fantastic. Just what I need. I thought you were a twisted figment of my imagination."
"Nope. Sorry to disappoint you."
Yeah, right. The trace of laughter in his sandpaper voice said otherwise.
"Although, I'll give you twisted." His lips twitched. "But a figment of your imagination? Nah."
Rocky tilted his head and slanted her an admiring look. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" He gestured at her. "Not that I'm not enjoying the show, but don't you think you should put some clothes on?"
She jerked her head down. The semi-transparent silken bra and bikini-cut panties provided protection in only the most dubious sense. Shooting him a withering glare, she stomped to the dresser and yanked out a pair of black jeans and white thermal hoodie.
How did one go about incinerating rock, anyway?
After slipping into the clothes, she slammed the drawer shut. At the sound of porcelain rattling on wood, she paused and stared at the top of the dresser.
Once bright red roses sagged in their vase, silky heads bowing toward the wood. She needed to pick some more up next time she was at the store.
Her gaze moved to the item the flowers shaded. Trailing her finger along the picture frame's edge, she stared at the two people who meant the world to her. Two people she barely remembered.
Her parents.
A somber dark-haired man, his arm around the slender form of a laughing, blonde-haired woman. Even through the graininess of the picture, she could see the equal amounts of tenderness and pain in her father's pale brown eyes.
Sadness twisted in her chest, the sharp ache always present, but muted with each passing year. A tiny, one-dimensional picture. All she had of her parents.
Forcing the pain deep, she finished closing the drawer, this time much more gently. She still felt grief's razor edge, a reminder of the hurt that came with having feelings. With caring.
Casting a glance back at Rocky, she said, "What the hell do you want?"
Ignoring her question, he winked and walked over to the edge of her table and peered at the cover of a National Geographic.
"Hey, can I borrow this? I haven't seen this issue." He looked up at Lexi, his silver eyes brimming with anticipation.
"What. The hell. Do you. Want?" she repeated, a silken thread of warning in her voice.
Rocky placed a small hand over his forehead and staggered back. "Is that any way to welcome your guide?"
Pretending to swoon, he lurched against her two-foot high black granite statue of Sekhmet, an ancient Egyptian goddess with the head of a lioness and the body of a woman.
Lexi gasped and darted for the statue as it wobbled, then tilted. She righted the figurine and glared at Rocky.
"Sorry, toots." Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed the amulet, which had swung free when she bent over. "Hmm, what's this?"
She'd forgotten about the necklace. At the same moment she lifted her hand to take it from his grasp, Rocky jerked, let go of the amulet and skittered back. One foot went off the edge of the coffee table, but he managed to stay upright.
"Damnosa." Eyes wide, he stared up at Lexi, silver eyes huge in a washed out gray face. "Mikos didn't tell me you have the Nativitas." He spoke in a hushed tone charged with awe and respect.
Surprised by his reaction, Lexi eyed him in confusion. "What?" She held the amulet in her hand. "This?"
He hadn't noticed it before? When he was drooling over her body?
"Yeah, that."
"What's the big deal?"
"The big deal? You don't know what this is?" He cocked his head. "I guess you don't," he murmured. "It's a rebirth stone."
"Oh. That's what it's called." Lexi looked down at the amulet. Her brow wrinkled. "A rebirth stone?"
Well, that made sense. Little else did. Could she really be having a conversation with a tiny man in her living room?
After she'd received a visit from a demon?
She tapped her fingers on the table. "So, guide, answer this. Why me?"
"Sorry, can't help you there. That's for Mikos to explain."
"You can't help me?" She frowned. "What kind of guide are you?"
He shifted his stance then pulled at his ear, keeping his eyes averted. "Sorry, not my story to tell. Ask Mikos."
"Since I don't plan to see Mikos ever again, I won't be able to ask him anything, so why don't you just tell me?"
Lexi stomped into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She twisted off the cap and took a deep drink. The cold, slightly bitter taste filled her mouth. She rarely drank---this six-pack had been in her fridge for six months. But this last day deserved beer. Maybe three beers.
When Lexi turned to face Rocky again, she wasn't surprised to see he had done one of his blinking things and now stood on her kitchen counter.
"Can't tell you." He tilted his head. "What do you mean you won't be seeing Mikos again?" The tire-on-stone tone of his voice revealed disapproval.
"Just what I said."
"You have to. He's the one who can help you. Train you."
"Not interested." God, she was getting tired of explaining herself. How many times did she have to say no?
Rocky stared at her, speechless. She hoped. Probably few things kept the shapeshifter quiet. She'd only seen him twice but could tell he liked the sound of his own voice. Odd, but she found the little man appealing. Like an exotic pet---strange and unusual, but highly entertaining.
Finally, he shook his head. "Bad idea, Alexandria."
She winced. Did he just call her by her full name? "Like I told Mikos, my name isn't Alexandria. It's Lexi."
"Lexi," he tried it out, and then nodded. "I like it."
"I'm so glad you approve."
She barely kept the twitch of her lips from becoming a smile. Taking her beer, she headed back to the living room. She started to step over a small square of white on the carpet but then stopped. Oh, yeah. The business card.
"Whatcha' got there?" Back on the coffee table, Rocky stretched his neck to try and see what she had picked up.
Nosy bugger. "It's a business card." She flopped onto the couch and held out the card. "I found it in my professor's office today."
Rocky took the card. His lips pursed then he nodded. "Sure, that's Mikos's card. I've seen tons of them." He met her gaze. Curiosity glowing in the gray depths. "Are you talking about Professor Xaviera?"
If Lexi hadn't been sitting by that time, she'd have fallen to the floor. Sonofabitch. She hadn't missed the import of what Rocky unknowingly admitted. "You knew Professor Xaviera?"
"Yeah, Mikos does too. The Prof is a really decent guy."
"Don't you mean was a decent guy?"
Rocky cocked his head, his expression confused. "Was?"
"He's dead. Murdered. Two days ago." Lexi snatched the card out of Rocky's unresisting hands. "And I found this in his office."
"Dead?"
"Yes, dead. As in not breathing. Dead. Someone came close to cutting his head off with a freaking sword."
Rocky's dark-gray skin paled, turning ashen. "A sword?"
Lexi rolled her eyes and stood. "I thought you were a rock, not a parrot. Stop repeating everything I say. Yes, a sword."
Leaving him speechless, she stalked over to the closet and grabbed a lightweight jacket. In her bedroom, she slipped on a pair of ankle boots with a low heel. Slamming her sanjiegun, a three-section staff into its holder at her hip, she headed for the front door. So much for food.
She looked back at Rocky. The shapeshifter hadn't moved. While his skin was no longer ashen gray, his silver gaze was shadowed with an expression of worry.
"You coming?" she asked. "I need directions."
"Where are you going?"
"Mikos."
This time, the shapeshifter's eyes widened in alarm.
"So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains,
and we never even know we have the key."
Already Gone, by the Eagles
The metallic sheen of the sword flashed under the lights, the blade singing with each intricate movement. Mikos spun on the balls of his bare feet and lunged at an imaginary shape. The steel blade of the colichemarde sliced through the air with a clear crystal tone.
With another twist, he pivoted into the ballistra, sliding toward his fencing dummy, extending the blade in a lightning-fast and deadly thrust. The Toledo steel slid deep into the stuffed figure.
He let go and stepped back. His chest heaved slightly with exertion. Smug satisfaction curled the edges of his lips. For the first time, he'd executed the difficult move to perfection, the strike landing exactly where he planned. Fencing was a recent hobby of his. One he found tremendous enjoyment in conquering.
"You are much improved."
In the second Mikos recognized the voice, he'd already yanked the colichemarde from the dummy, spun around and pointed the rapier at the figure haloed in a bright light. He met the serene deep blue eyes behind the glow and groaned.
"Michael. What the hell are you doing here?"
Archangel Michael winced. "Mikos, please."
"Sorry. Old habits. I'll use heck instead."
With the end of his finger, Michael pointed the tip of the colichemarde downward. "I would prefer if you did not point that weapon at me."
"Then you shouldn't surprise me when I'm training."
Mikos strode over to the table and grabbed a towel. He paused to wipe the sweat from his face then tossed the towel into a basket under the table.
He faced Michael. By this time, the Archangel had muted his heavenly glow to a more manageable level. To the level Mikos didn't feel his eyes needed protection from the angel's brilliance.
"Why are you here?" he asked Heaven's warlord.
He really should try to be more respectful. It wasn't that he didn't like the Archangel. He did. Probably more than any other angelic being. Except, well, except the one who'd been like a brother to him.
As for Michael, he didn't seem to mind Mikos's occasional disrespectful manner. In fact, now that he thought about it, the Archangel more often appeared amused by his surliness. Always glad he could amuse the Prince of Angels.
Michael smiled and shrugged. "Just curious. How is the training of the new defender coming?"
"Michael, you know da...darn well how it's going."
"She is difficult."
"That is the understatement of all understatements," Mikos said and rested his hip on the table's edge. "She does not believe. How can I train someone who does not believe?"
"You, most of all, know it is possible to learn."
"I always believed," he murmured. "I thought I wanted something more." Mikos fell silent, his mind drifting back.
Yes, he had always believed. He had never doubted his faith, and he still didn't.
An overwhelming need for something combined with the whisperings of those who had fallen before, did much to shake, no, not shake, crumble, the foundations of everything he'd ever known. Or thought he knew.
"You must return her faith to her. It is the only way."
"When pigs fly."
The Archangel chuckled. "Mikos, my friend, you have been in this realm much too long. I have noticed your manner of speaking and speech is fraught with colorful phrases."
He paused. His amused expression slipped into somber. "You must convince her. She is needed. Now, more than ever."
A fact that hadn't escaped Mikos. Beliel, one of the vilest of the demons, possessed King Solomon's bronze jar. By the grace of Heaven, at least Beliel could not free the trapped demons without the Key.
Who would find the Key first?
Mikos sighed. "The last battle with Morningstar was far less difficult than training the woman will be."
"But, her training will be much more fun." Michael tilted his head and a thoughtful smile pulled at his mouth. "She is a striking woman."
Unnerved by the Archangel's cool observation, Mikos raised an eyebrow. "She is forbidden." He was impressed by how emotionless his tone sounded. Inside, however, was a different matter.
Michael nodded. "Yes." With an enigmatic smile, he continued, "Do not destroy my faith in you, Phoenix." With that, he raised a hand and disappeared.
When the warrior angel departed, the bright light of Heaven went with him. Mikos lifted his own hand, stretching his fingers toward the glow. Gentle warmth caressed his fingers. He pulled them in, clenching them into a fist as if he could capture the peaceful touch of Heaven.
Pain bit deep, carving out chunks of his soul. He craved that radiance and warmth more than he ever craved anything in his existence. That light was what Lexi would help him obtain.
If he could convince her to take up her destiny.
Mikos stared blankly across the room. The woman was stubborn, insolent, arrogant and stubborn twice again. He had to get her trained, but before he could, he needed her here. Where he could work with her each day. Where he could ensure her protection against Beliel and his minions.
Psychic energy brushed against Mikos's residence shields. He froze. The door wasn't locked. His domicile wards would keep out most intruders, both mortal and immortal. Only a few trusted had permission.
And fewer, like Michael, needed no permission.
At the slam that reverberated through the house, Mikos dropped the towel and blinked into the Twilight, the gray half space between the Spirit and Physical realms.
Heels clicked on the tiled floors of the hallway, becoming louder and more strident as they neared the practice room. The mumbling sounds of agitated conversation grew audible.
"Hellfire, Lexi, you can't believe Mikos...."
"Get out of my way, gnat," a taut tone interrupted, "or I'll swat you like a fly."
Ah, the Defender. And Rocky. Mikos felt his lips twitch. Of course, she had permission. He just hadn't expected her to come on her own. Indeed, he'd anticipated a visit to her domicile or place of employment. Her impromptu visit served his purposes much better.
Mikos rematerialized and held his rapier loose at his side. He braced himself for her arrival. Part of the reason he currently employed the blade was to work off built up energy accumulated after his encounter with Lexi.
Michael's appearance and cryptic references had not helped. At the end, had his comment about his faith in Mikos been meant to encourage him? Or warn him? The Archangel should know better. He was well aware of the consequences should he succumb to Lexi's considerable charms.
When the door swung open and Lexi stormed in, her energy overflowed the space, arrowing straight toward him. Her life force pounded against his fortified personal shields, seeking a way in past his defenses. He couldn't allow that to happen.
His gaze traveled her irate form. Long legs chewed up the distance toward him, her trim form poured into a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Lips normally full and pouty were pulled into a thin line. Cinnamon-shaded eyes narrowed, her eyebrows pinched together. A metal rod, about two feet in length, was clenched in a tight fist.
Christ's wounds, the woman was even more striking when filled with anger. He started to greet her. In fact, he had his mouth open when he noticed Rocky's location. Good grief, what had possessed the shapeshifter? Despite their heated discussion and her threats, Lexi seemed perfectly agreeable with Rocky riding on her shoulder.
As usual, the contrary woman acted against his expectations. Why should she? She hadn't done anything Mikos expected. She seemed to accept the shapeshifter's presence more readily than her death, resurrection and subsequent destiny.
Lexi came within a couple of feet and slammed to a halt. Gold flecks danced in the warm copper of her eyes. Palpable fury came off her in waves.
Mikos instinctively stepped backward before he caught himself. He froze and swore softly. "Defender, I'm glad you've come." Keeping his tone cool and polite, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
Behind the façade of implacable calm he worked to present to her, confusion and anger fought for control. Confusion that she continued to have power over his emotions and anger at himself for allowing her that power.
"You can tell me what the hell this was doing in my professor's office?" Lexi held a white card up in front of his face, waving it furiously in front of him.
Mikos's eyes crossed. He grabbed her wrist, holding her arm still. She held one of his unique cards. One that remained blank unless viewed by someone he'd warded to see.
"Your professor?" Mikos frowned. He had no idea who she meant. Not many could see the sigils on the card. And none of those who could were named professor.
"Uh, yeah, boss, she means Xaviera," Rocky interjected, earning him a glare. He shrugged then made the human gesture of locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Another habit he'd picked up from being around mortals. At times, Mikos actually wished the motion worked.
He thought for a moment, his mind whirling with the implications. Grigori Xaviera had been Lexi's professor? What did that mean?
Grigori, the Watchers, were neutral. They watched, not interceded. And they certainly didn't give mortals the Nativitas. Which by the obvious fact the amulet had been in her possession at the time of her death seemed to have occurred. That night, he'd assumed her parents had left it to her. Obviously, an inaccurate assumption.
With the connection between Xaviera and Lexi, it was likely the Grigori had indeed violated the basic tenet of observation, not interference, and given Lexi the talisman.
Xaviera was in considerable trouble if that was truly the case. Despite the fact that in doing so, he had, in all probability, saved the Defender's life, the light and dark powers did not take interference lightly.
Grigori kept their immunity simply because like Switzerland of the human world they were neutral. For Xaviera to interfere, if he had... For his friend's sake, Mikos hoped the Grigori hadn't slipped so far.
As for the card. "Xaviera is a friend of mine."
"Uh, boss."
Mikos repressed a sigh. Rocky's lock-and-key pantomime hadn't lasted long.
"Pipe down, stone-head," Lexi tossed at her shoulder.
Rocky grimaced and disappeared from his perch only to reappear upon the side table cluttered with fencing items. A smart move.
Lexi took another step forward, seemingly ignoring the fact Mikos still held her wrist. He wasn't sure why he didn't let go. Under the soft skin of her wrist, the bones and tendons felt strong. The top of her head barely came to his chin and she had to lift her chin to look into his eyes. Their gazes clashed.
"If that's the case, then the professor was your friend," she said. "He was murdered two days ago."
He felt his mouth drop open. Christ's wounds. Xaviera dead? How was it he hadn't sensed his passing?
Immortals didn't die. Not like humans or animals. When an immortal passed, their soul was shredded, split into its smallest parts until there was nothing left. All immortals felt the passing. A small reminder that even they were not safe. Small bumps lifted on his arms and he involuntarily shivered.
Had the Grigori known his fate when he gave Lexi the amulet?
Oops. Lexi fought to keep from ducking her head with guilt. Maybe she shouldn't have told him about the professor's death in such a blunt manner. Golden tan had blanched, the shock in his expression too extreme to be anything but genuine. Could he fake the strength of his reactions to her announcement? Her lips thinned. Genuine or not, she needed answers.
"I found your card in his office." She stopped, took a deep breath, and the question came out in a rush. "Did you kill him?"
"Excuse me?" The strong jaw clenched, and his face flushed.
She didn't like that look on his face. Lexi stepped back a step. His grip tightened on her wrist, jerking her to a halt. Her abandoned sanjiegun slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a sharp metal clatter.
Crap. She'd forgotten he still had her in his grasp and her stick. Damn it. And, by the way his hand gripped her wrist, he didn't intend on letting go any time soon.
Her and her big mouth. She didn't even know this man. What if he had killed the professor? What's to stop him from doing the same to her? Rocky? Right, he could throw pieces of his body at Mikos. That would help.
"You believe I killed Xaviera?"
Cold and dark. His tone. The gray of his eyes turned the clear crystal of ice. Her gut twisted. Those damn butterflies fluttering like nervous hands.
She lifted her chin higher, meeting his icy stare straight on. "Let go of me." She tried a little yank. Which got her absolutely nowhere. The jerk didn't budge.
"Boss," Rocky interrupted. In his agitation, his voice had deepened sounding like two stones grinding together. "I tried to tell her the Xaviera was our friend and there was no way you'd kill him, especially since you'd lose..."
Mikos sliced a hand at the shapeshifter. Wisely, Rocky snapped his mouth closed with an audible click. Hmm.
Without moving his eyes from Lexi---yay her---Mikos ordered, "Report to Michael."
"Aw, come on, I'm sure the lighthead knows already. Wouldn't it be better if I..." Rocky's complaint trailed off as Mikos pulled his gaze from her and turned to the shapeshifter.
Rocky ducked his head and shuffled a foot. He nodded. "Okay, then. I'll, uh, go now." After darting an apologetic look her way, he disappeared in the time it took to blink.
Gray eyes turned back to her. Lethal calmness lingered in the pale depths. Lexi sucked in a deep breath. For Pete's sake, she'd never had anyone give her such a smoldering look. The tic in his jaw told her he was angry. Scratch that. Not angry. Pissed.
"Xaviera was my friend," he said in a harsh, raw voice. "I did not kill him."
In for a penny. "Then explain why I found your card and why he'd been killed by a sword."
Despite his close proximity and the vise-like grip on her wrist, she was not about to back down no matter how scary his scowl became.
"A sword?"
Lexi rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone keep repeating it like they think I'm crazy? Yes, a sword. And look," she waved her other hand at the table. "You have lots of swords and knives." She jerked her captured arm again. "And damn it, let go of my wrist."
Mikos's gaze turned thoughtful. The anger faded. His unusual eyes returned to their normal smoky color. No glittering silver light danced in his pupils.
His grip on her wrist eased, and Lexi snatched her arm free. She clutched the aggrieved body part in her other hand and glowered at him. For all the good it did since he didn't appear to notice what she hoped was her own scary scowl.
Now that his anger had passed, she got nothing when she looked at him. No impression of any kind. His expression was as blank as a new piece of paper.
She gnawed on her lower lip. God help her but she believed him. His reactions made it clear he had nothing to do with her professor's death. That's as far as she went.
No one had to draw her a picture. Because, just as equally clear, both the king of crazy and the skittish rock knew more than they shared. Or offered.
Mikos turned and strode to the table, pulled off his fencing jacket and tossed it to the surface. Briskly rubbing a white towel in his hair, his actions gave her a clear view of the fine muscles under his totally tight T-shirt bulging and flattening with every movement.
Oh boy. What had she been thinking about?
Lexi swallowed past a dry throat. The sleeveless white muscle shirt Mikos had on underneath the pristine white jacket left absolutely nothing of importance to the imagination. Golden skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The light dusting of chest hair peeking from the open V of his shirt glistened, slightly damp from his recent exertions. Perfect. Almost too perfect.
"Bless you," she murmured to whatever god had created this man. Even though she didn't intend to touch, she wasn't blind. Why shouldn't she delight in the eye candy posing before her? So she did. She stared. Unabashedly, unashamedly stared.
Ogled.
Gaped.
Any one of those adjectives would do.
As if he heard the purrs of enjoyment in her mind, he turned and looked over his shoulder. The hard lines of his face softened, relaxed. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her neck and slid down to caress her breasts. Her heart jolted. Heat rose from her chest into her cheeks.
Lexi took a step forward. Then another. Her fingers itched to stroke the smooth skin, curl her fingertips into his thick hair. To feel the solid planes of his body pressed against hers. She licked her lips. Moisture rolled down the center of her back, the tickling sensation causing her to shiver.
She took another step. No freaking way. What the hell was he doing to her? And how? Giving her head a brain-bumping shake and tripped to a halt. Sexy or not, she was so not going to jump into bed with him.
"Whatever you're doing, knock it off," Lexi said. Her jaw tightened.
He had to be doing something. On her own, she would never act as if he was a big bowl of ice cream she wanted to lick clean. And even though her body clamored for a caress, a taste of the man in front of her, her will ruled. Not her traitorous body. To prove it, she bent down and snatched up her dropped sanjiegun. As if the smooth metal rod had abilities of its own, its comforting lines provided some security.
He blinked, and the come-and-get-me expression disappeared. His lips pulled into such a tight line, the corners of his mouth whitened. "My apologies. I assure you, it won't happen again."
"What the hell were you doing?"
"It's not important."
"It is to me."
Mikos ran a hand through his hair, his fingers separating the black strands. Lexi watched, her own itching to touch. Was his hair as silken as it looked? She folded her hands into a fist.
Shit on a shingle! What the freaking hell was wrong with her?
"The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials."
Chinese Proverb
His gut twisted into knots. Lucifer's balls, he'd never lost control of himself before. When he felt Lexi's heated stare, his instinctive response had been to plunge back into the state of arousal that led him to so much trouble so many centuries ago.
Even if he hadn't been forbidden by Heaven's edict, he refused to walk that path again. The path where his groin ruled his head and body. If he had to exert iron will and strengthen his shields until nothing penetrated, he would.
No matter that her own lust had been so palpable he imagined he felt her touch, tasted her skin. If she hadn't had enough willpower for both of them, what might have happened? He was too close to his goal to let a mortal woman, even this intoxicating woman, tempt him from gaining what he wanted most.
A mutinous expression pouted her lips. "Fine." She backed up until she had put a distance of four feet or more between them. "Whatever it was, don't do it again."
Mikos merely bent his head in agreement. He didn't trust himself to speak, fearing she'd be able to tell by the roughness of his voice he was still under the influence of the desire seething between them.
She cocked her head. "Let's say I believe you didn't kill Professor Xaviera. But, you do know why he was killed. And maybe even the who, don't you?"
Mikos took a deep inward sigh. By the Light, he'd never been more grateful for a change in subject. Of course, now he had to deal with her perceptiveness. Yet, was the Defender ready to hear what he had to say? "Yes, I know why."
"And the who?"
He nodded. Lexi's warm gaze sharpened, interest filling the cinnamon-shaded eyes. "Who?"
"Beliel."
Her lips formed each letter as she mumbled the name. Her brows drew together. Mikos didn't like that pensive look. Even less, he disliked the realization that suddenly flared, widening her eyes. "I know him. He sounds like you, all stiff and formal." She tilted her head. "Although his accent is more pronounced."
Oh, shit! Lexi let out a startled squawk as he closed the protective distance she'd put between them until he was within a foot of her. His fists knotted as if he wanted to grab her, but he held back.
"How do you know Beliel?"
Lexi held up the sanjiegun, gesturing out a circle in front of her body Mikos was damn near to breaking. "Whoa, personal zone here."
"Alexandria, this is important. Answer my question. How do you know Beliel?"
She cringed. Her full name again. "He showed up at my apartment earlier."
Mikos jerked back. Fascinated, she watched his pupils and iris begin to spark again, the silver pinpoints of light widening. For Pete's sake, what had she done or said?
"What happened?" he asked.
She shrugged, and looked down. With a sharp snick, she extended her sanjiegun, rested the tip on the floor and idly spun it like she was trying to start a fire. Christ. She suddenly had an urge to duck her head and squirm like a child caught doing something wrong.
"He made me an offer," she said and lifted her head, her gaze sparring with his.
"What kind of offer?"
The phrase an offer you can't refuse flashed into her mind. She didn't let it out. Probably a smart decision based on the silver sparking in his eyes. Where the hell did he get that unusual ability?
Instead of uttering any number of smartass comments wavering on her tongue, she answered, "A normal life. One with a family."
"A normal life," he repeated. His tone sounded as if it had as much emotion as a rock.
Oops. Better scratch that. She actually knew a rock with emotion.
"Lexi, you must stay away from him."
"Hey, I didn't invite him. He just showed up." She wrinkled her nose. "What's the big deal?"
"You don't know him. He's dangerous."
Lexi placed on hand on her hip and tapped her right foot. "So? I didn't know you, but that didn't stop you from interfering."
Mikos's eyes narrowed. "That is different."
"Feels the same to me." She paused. "Besides, all he's done is show me another life."
A life she'd always wanted. Sounded so simple. So easy. So confusing.
"For a price."
Lexi shrugged again. "Everything comes with a price tag." And everyone could be bought. The only variance was the dollar amount.
"What did he want from you?" Mikos continued.
"To give him some kind of book. A book I'm sure I don't have."
Mikos face turned to stone. No, not the Rocky-type stone, but hard, cold granite. "If you had the book, would you take Beliel's offer?"
"I don't know."
She truly didn't. As tempting as it was to realize she could have a family of her own, it bothered her that Beliel offered her a ready-made family. After all, if she really wanted a family, she'd have found herself a nice guy and made babies. Sure, and it was just that easy wasn't it? Except, she wanted...
Something else.
Something special.
Something just for her.
So, she didn't know what that something was. And while she wouldn't admit it to Mikos, she wasn't sure she'd want to pay the cost for whatever Beliel offered. She sensed it would be high.
Despite the set expression on his face, Mikos's tone had a controlled lightness as he said, "Lexi, you are the only one who can do this. God expects this of you, and your race needs you. Do not make the mistake of thinking only of yourself. Too much is at stake."
The critical and patronizing tone in Mikos's voice punched like a sledgehammer at her chest. How dare he try to make her feel selfish? He had no idea of the life she'd led or things from her past. Damn right she was selfish. She had to be.
Growing up in the system and then on the streets had taught her if she didn't look after herself no one else would. A hard lesson to learn at the age of twelve but she had, and no man, no matter how attractive he was, was going to stand there and make her feel bad about her choices.
Lexi shoved Mikos's chest. "Where the hell was your God when I lost my parents? Where was your God when I was shuffled from home to home?"
She paused and took a deep breath. For the first time in as far back as she could remember, tears welled.
"And where were you and your God when my supposed father in the last foster home put his hands on me like no father ever should?"
She was tired, angry and mentally exhausted with the events of the last day. Otherwise, what the hell else could explain her opening her mouth and sharing such an intimate thing with a relative stranger?
Lexi barely suppressed a shudder at the memory. Her last foster father, Tom, hadn't seemed to fit any profile of a child abuser. With no previous history of abuse in his own childhood, a gentle manner, no issues with drug or alcohol abuse, clean cut, a pristinely maintained yard and home, he appeared to be anything but a vile abuser.
It was only later did Lexi find out just how much of an abuser he was. Certainly, she would have found out if she had stayed around long enough for him to finish what he'd begun.
She still remembered the stark terror of being pushed against the wall of her bedroom while Tom groped and grabbed at her clothing. The smell of fresh paint from her foster mom's remodel of the kitchen, the feel of the stucco on her backside.
Slightly damp, cold hands that left behind an unclean feeling, one she'd never be free of.
Lexi felt fortunate in that she had been strong and independent even at the age of twelve. One unfatherly touch from Tom, and she bolted from the house.
Looking up at Mikos, she realized that in her anger, she'd come within inches of his body. Major personal zone violation. Silver painted eyes looked down at her awash with an emotion she didn't want or need.
She shoved him again. "Don't you dare pity me. And don't you dare tell me what God expects. I stopped caring about those expectations a long time ago."
Maybe the thought of shoving him a third time had crossed her mind and shined in her eyes because Mikos moved. His hands come up to grab her wrists, jerking her forward and locking her arms against her sides. For the second time, her sanjiegun fell to the floor with another sharp clatter. Damn it, she was going to get a strap on that thing.
She pulled her knee up then thrust downward. Because of Mikos's tight meld to her body, she couldn't get enough momentum to do anything more than tap his foot. A hard tap, yet still not enough to break free.
"You're going to hurt yourself."
This close, his whisper danced across her neck. She sucked in a whistling breath as unfamiliar sensations rocketed through her body. When was the last time she'd felt any, even the most microscopic, attraction to a man? Each time she was around this man her libido went supernova.
Mikos's body seemed to fit hers like a comfortable chair, one she wanted to sink back into then lose herself in the firm cushions. She inhaled, the warm, musky scent of masculine perspiration filling her nose. Did his skin taste salty? She eyed the pulse beating in his neck.
An inward yelp echoed through her mind. What the hell was wrong with her?
She let her shoulders relax as if she'd given up. He stilled. Maybe he hadn't expected her to concede. Good. His stillness should have let her focus on breaking free.
It didn't.
Not when she intimately felt each press of his taut muscles. And other things moved against her body. Like a migraine, a memory crashed in on her and another emotion lifted its ugly head. She tensed, every muscle stiffening in rising fear.
Mikos was nothing like Tom yet creepy crawlies slid through her body leaving behind a huge block of ice dead center of her chest. Her heart thumped once then galloped into a fast beat. The memory of Tom's lustful, narrow eyes and his slack, wet lips hit her mind like a mallet. She couldn't breathe.
With an inarticulate cry of terror and anger, she hooked her left foot behind Mikos's knee and pulled. Unprepared, his knee collapsed, and he staggered backward, releasing her wrists.
Before he could recover, she bent down and swept up her sanjiegun in one quick movement. Holding the staff with both hands, she swiped behind his knees, knocking his feet from under him. Taken by surprise, he fell backwards, his ass hitting first, the rest of him crashing to the mats a millisecond later.
She followed her advantage by pressing forward with her rod, flattening his back against the floor. Holding the blunted point of the staff on Mikos's chest, she glared at him, her chest heaving.
Mikos's silver eyes glowed, and with a wave of his hand, he knocked the stick away from his chest and out of her hands.
"Damn it," Lexi snarled then leaped for the staff. Grabbing it, she whirled around. Mikos was on his feet, his own hands holding another staff.
"You wish to spar?" A challenge glinted in the sparking gaze. One corner of his lips quirked. Arrogance tensed every line of his body.
"Damn right I do."
She was angry, but not angry enough to forget her training. She would attack, but not in rage. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her anger down until it sat in her center. Still there ready to be drawn on, but controlled.
"Ote yawaraka ni."
"I don't think so." Lexi flipped the staff with her left hand and struck at Mikos's left leg. "I'm in no mood to be gentle."
Before the blow connected, Mikos's own stick hit Lexi's with a loud metallic ring. Despite expecting it, the force reverberated through the steel, slamming into Lexi's fingers.
Ignoring the tingle, she spun and thrust at his mid section. He bent forward, narrowly avoiding her strike and countered with a swipe at her feet.
She pulled back, imagining she could feel the rush of the stick's passing. Her backward motion continued as she flipped then landed on her feet. Senses screamed a warning, and she jerked to the right just as Mikos's staff passed by her side.
Holy moly, he was good.
Before she could spin around, Mikos's staff was across her chest. He jerked her back. Her breath left in a whoosh as her back struck his hard chest. Warm air brushed her neck. Lexi froze. Impossible. He couldn't have moved that fast.
"You're good, but I'm much better." The whisper danced across the small hairs on her neck. A hint of sandalwood teased her senses.
Shit! If she tried to break away, she'd only tire herself out. That didn't mean she had no options. Ignoring the feel of his body and his heady scent was the first step.
She dropped her weight down and forward almost until she was on her knees. Mikos's stick slipped and she slid down and out from under. Rolling to the side, she surged to her feet. Before he could move, she punched both heels of her palms at his chest. Right before she connected, he blinked from view. Just like Rocky.
A slight sound from behind her. Lexi whirled only to see Mikos materialize. "Sonofabitch. What the hell are you?"
He closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them, silver completely covered the gray. "I'm an angel."
"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;
the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."
Plato
Lexi burst into laughter.
Mikos frowned. He'd anticipated awe. Perhaps more than a little fear. Definitely disbelief. But, once again, the contrary mortal defied his expectations.
Her laugh, rich and rolling, contained pure joy. Pleasure changed her face, softened it, smoothed away lines and where before she was exotically sensual, she was now breathtaking. The sound of her laugh sang through his body, leaving behind a betraying tightening of his loins.
Wresting sanity from its downhill slide, Mikos took a quick step back before he did something regrettable. Like press his lips to hers. Feel the joy of her laugh against his mouth and the warmth of her skin against his own.
Beatus Deus. Continuing to curse under his breath, Mikos seized control over his wayward body. Despite his anger and apprehension over his body's reaction, he could not turn away from her delight. And despite being disconcerted by her response, he experienced a rush of gratitude.
Terror no longer spiraled from her pores, no longer filled his nostrils with the bitter stench of past horrors. Had their grappling triggered an emotional response leftover from her childhood? The levels of human against human suffering knew no bounds. A young girl, showing the promise of sexuality, would be delectable fodder for a predator of both human and demon kind.
Amusement slipped from her face. "An angel," she repeated in a tone dripping with skepticism. Mikos wanted the joy back with a hunger that surprised him.
"Of course you are." She paused. "I don't believe in angels."
His riotous emotions back under control, Mikos sighed. He'd expected no less from her. "Indeed. Your belief or non-belief doesn't change the fact I'm an angel."
"Prove it."
"Pardon?"
Lexi waved a hand. "If you're an angel, prove it. Do something. A miracle."
"I'm not that kind of angel."
"What does that mean? You're either an angel or you're not."
"Come," Mikos said. After laying his staff on the table, he walked away.
Lexi blew out a breath in frustration. Clearly, he expected her to follow. Well, okay, she had to admit to being curious to see how he planned to explain his latest example of madness. Should be fascinating.
Snatching her sanjiegun from the floor, Lexi hastened after him and tracked him back into the room where she'd first stepped into The Twilight Zone. Nothing had changed. Everything was in the same place she'd left, sans Rocky who was supposedly off reporting to Michael.
Lexi came to a quick stop. Good grief. Michael? As in the Archangel Michael? As in Prince-of-Light-protector-of-mankind Michael? She may not believe in angels but she'd heard of the archangels. Especially the main ones---Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel. And Michael.
She shook her head. Great. She was getting sucked into Mikos's delusion. With each outlandish claim and bizarre revelation, she inched farther into crazy.
With a sigh, she focused on Mikos. He stood in front of a curio-like cabinet, his back toward her as he scanned the ancient-looking books. He closed the glass door, then turned to face her.
In his hands, he held a book she could tell at first glance was old despite the beautiful, deep tan cover etched in raised bands of gold gilt lettering. Lexi crossed the room.
"Read." He offered the book to her. "It's the closest representation of the story a mortal can comprehend. Rather well done, in fact."
Reluctantly, she took the archaic book. She ran her fingers over the title. Paradife loft. A Poem in Ten Books by John Milton. "I know this. It's a book of poems."
"Yes."
"This is about Lucifer and fallen angels, isn't it?" Lexi felt her lips twitch at the surprised look on his face. "I'm not stupid, Mikos. Just because I don't believe in angels or God, doesn't mean I haven't heard the stories."
Paradise Lost, as it was more commonly known, depicted the war between angels. The angels still under God's favor and the ones cast out. Or fallen. Lexi had been curious about the tale but after finding out it was in the form of a poem, she'd passed on reading. Give her straight sentences---poems were full of cryptic phrases and strange word partnerships she just couldn't decipher.
She glanced down at the book. "I've definitely heard of this." Holding it up in front of her, she questioned, "You think this will make me believe?"
"I'd never be so foolish." One corner of his lips lifted.
Cute. Gave him a rakish air. And made him seem more human. Which he was not, if she were to believe his odd assertion.
"Then why should I bother?"
"Lexi, whether or not you believe is immaterial. Obviously, it would be better if you did, but your non-belief does not change the facts." Mikos inclined his head at the book in her hand.
"Fine." Her brow furrowed. "How does this prove you're an angel?"
Mikos frowned. "What kind of proof do you require?" He held up a hand. "Other than a miracle."
"You were in the club, weren't you?" She waited until he nodded. "If you're an angel, show me your wings."
His frown deepened. "Is this really necessary?"
"Look, I'm a literal gal. I deal in reality, what I can see, touch and smell. I certainly don't take the word of someone I hardly know. If you want me to accept you're an angel, prove it."
"Saving your life isn't enough proof?"
Oh, that.
"How do I know I was actually dead?" Lexi ignored the niggling of conscience that scoffed at her comment. She knew she had been dead.
All current evidence showing otherwise, she'd felt herself die. That knowledge didn't stop her. She wanted something from him. Something she could believe in. Something solid. She cringed inwardly at the unintended double entendre. Ignoring her mental slip, she lifted her chin and met Mikos's gaze squarely.
His deliberate stare held her eyes. The intense focus gave her the feeling he was peering into the depths behind her eyes to discover what she wanted most.
Good luck with that. She didn't even know what that might be.
"Very well," he said. An eyebrow lifted. "But I require something from you. I will give you your proof, and in return, you will remain here and be trained. And attempt to regain your knowledge of the location of the Key. Time is running out, and I have no more patience for games."
"You want me to stay here? With you?" Lexi snorted. "Sure, like I'd believe we'd only be training."
Especially after she melted into goo whenever he got near. Hell, she wasn't worried about him. The over-the-top reactions of her own body scared the shit out of her. She feared that if he started with her, she wouldn't let him stop. And the last thing she needed was a relationship with him. Purely sexual or otherwise.
"I have no need for anything from you other than your commitment to training," he said. "And your faith."
"Well, I could give you a commitment for training, but as for my faith---that ship sailed a long time ago."
Mikos nodded. "Fine. Your commitment to training is sufficient. In time, your faith will come."
"Sure. Believe what you will."
"Are we agreed then? I will provide proof. You will remain here for training."
Crap, where was her head? She acted as if all he had to do was give her proof and she'd believe anything he had to say. Was it really that simple?
"I want one more thing," she blurted then slapped a hand over her mouth. Where had that come from?
Mikos frowned but nodded.
"I want you to help me find Devyn." Big Joe and his dire predictions of the human race perishing if she continued to look for Devyn aside, Lexi knew she couldn't simply go on with life and not know what happened to the young girl.
"Who is Devyn?" Mikos's head tilted, his dark eyes questioning. Confused. And more than a little bit annoyed if she read his expression correctly. Bully for her. She wasn't here to make the angel's life easier.
"It doesn't matter who she is. She was with me the night I, er..." Lexi paused, her mind's voice tripping over the word. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Died. She was with me the night I died. I need to know what happened to her. I need to know if she was harmed by those men."
"She is not important."
Lexi sucked in a breath. Her eyes narrowed. "She's important to me. And whether I believe your proof or not, I'll stay and train while we look for Devyn."
He ran fingers through his hair and swiped his hand down the back until he rubbed the back of his neck. She could almost see the thoughts whirling through his mind. Probably the same ones in hers. What did she have to lose by agreeing? What was the downside to staying here and training for a job she believed was a joke?
Her instincts didn't scream danger at her. Meaning he wasn't a threat. At least a physical threat. Her mental state? Well, that was another thing.
Seeming to come to an understanding in his mind, he nodded. "Very well. I will help you find your Devyn."
Lexi took a mental step backward. Was she really going to do this? Stay and train? Since he couldn't possibly prove his angelic claim, she'd lose nothing by staying. As long as he helped her find Devyn.
But, what if, by some weird burp in the universe, he pulled it off? She'd have to believe, right?
Her inner Lexi scoffed, yeah and what about being around a man who's already proven he can make you howl with desire?
And did she dare believe when he said he wanted nothing from her? Her lips firmed. He promised to help her find Devyn. And right now, that was more than enough. Besides, she could handle him if he decided to be frisky.
"Lexi?"
She lifted her lashes, and it was her turn to look deeply into Mikos's polished gray eyes. The longer she stared the more she was able to see beyond the surface to the soul of the man. Her vision narrowed into a needle point. Light dwelled behind his gaze. Pure light heavily surrounded by gray and dark whirls but still light.
Eyes were supposed to be the windows to a person's soul. For the first time in her life, she believed it. And if what she saw was true, Mikos's had a well of sadness, pain and guilt she figured never emptied. Her own soul twisted with the strength of his emotions.
She tore her eyes from his and took a deep breath. Words failed her. All she did was nod. Satisfaction filled his eyes.
"Apud mei voluntas, ego precor vos." His voice rang out, the clear sound striking like a hammer to a bell. Bold, powerful.
"Hey, girl."
Lexi started. The familiar, yet completely and utterly impossible, southern-style intonation that invoked the sensation of sun-filled days, skin wrapping moisture and the sweet-tangy smell of citronella scented flowers from the southern magnolia, flowed throughout the room. Her knees wobbled. She knew that voice. She knew the woman who owned the sultry drawl.
A flicker of movement caught her attention. The form of her best friend in the whole world shimmered into view. Catherine, Kat, Ferchaud.
Kat who had been dead for the last seven years.
Lexi gawked at the apparition, unable to articulate a single thought. She couldn't even manage to squeak out an expression of alarm.
However, she did stumble back a few steps only to come up against a warm, unyielding surface. Mikos grabbed her by the upper arms to steady her. A good thing because her knees buckled under her.
Her gaze locked onto Kat. Her friend's body was solid, if a bit smoky about her outlines. Her eyes held the same deep affection Lexi had returned so long ago. More than a best friend, Kat was the sister of her soul.
And she was dead. Or had died.
Mentally, Lexi shook her head. What was she saying?
Kat was dead. Lexi remembered the sharp crack of a gunshot, the hot, copper smell of blood, the screams of the others who'd had the bad fortune, like Kat, to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
For her best friend, though, it hadn't just been about that. For her it had been about choices.
Kat hadn't had the same kind of childhood as Lexi. From a wealthy home, with both parents still alive, Kat had chosen to rebel against the strictures of the wealthy society she'd been born into.
Lexi had already been living on the streets a year before she found Kat. Or rather, before Kat had found her. The younger girl, brand new to the streets, had wavered on the cusp of turning tricks to earn money for a place to stay.
Prissy, innocent, yet bristling with determination and deep strength, Kat had quickly found a place in Lexi's heart. She'd stopped the younger girl from embarking on a prostitute role, and together they'd worked the subways, picking pockets of the careless and arrogant.
Kat's mistake, the one that had led to her death, was falling for the wrong guy. Or, because she'd loved Asher deeply, maybe the right guy, but totally the wrong time and place.
"I've missed you," the figure that looked and sounded like Kat said.
Lexi tore her wandering attention from the past and focused on the now. On the apparition with the shape, appearance and sound of her best friend.
Her dead best friend for those who hadn't kept up.
"This isn't real. It's impossible," Lexi said even though common sense said otherwise. For Pete's sake, she had conversations with rocks. Demons visited her in her apartment and tried to make bargains. Why couldn't Kat be real?
Tender understanding shadowed the sparkle in Kat's emerald eyes. "I'm real." She shrugged and gave a deprecating laugh. "Well, I'm as real as a ghost can be."
"How are you here?"
Kat looked at a point over Lexi's shoulder. At Mikos. With the silent reminder, she suddenly felt the warmth of his body against her back. The contours of his lean body melded against her curves.
"He called," Kat said. "I came. Besides, I knew you needed me."
Lexi yanked away from Mikos. He called? She turned to face him. Good grief. She turned to face an angel.
Her gaze traveled over the powerful set of shoulders. The compelling dark eyes, the firm features and square chin. At the black hair gleaming in a kaleidoscope of jewel-like colors under the overhead light.
Mikos's hip leaned against the mahogany desk, his hands resting on the edge now that they weren't holding her upright. Crossed legs gave him a relaxed appearance. A complete farce. The alertness of the eyes under heavy lids shouted a different story. Likely wondering what she would do with the proof of what he said right before her.
In all of the pictures she'd seen of angels, none had ever looked like him. All of the angels she'd seen were blond, pale of skin, dressed in white robes and had white wings.
Wings.
She vaguely remembered dark wings springing from behind Mikos. At the club. The night she, uh, died. Again mentally shaking her head, Lexi ignored, for the moment, the whole angel issue. She couldn't handle Kat's return and a real angel.
Lexi walked over to Kat and stood about a foot from her shimmering form. "Are you real?" she put out a hand, wanting to touch her best friend.
Kat stepped, er, floated back and shook her head. "I'm as real as a spirit can be. You can't touch me, Lex. In that way, I don't exist.
"Besides, it would knock you on your ass."
Tension eased, and Lexi chuckled. The apparition looked like Kat. Sounded like Kat. Could this really be happening? Her throat thick with emotion, Lexi said, "I've missed you too."
Kat smiled, her spectral eyes soft with warmth and concern. "So, what kind of trouble are you causing for Mikos?"
Lexi shot a quick glance at the quiet man. Angel? God, she couldn't seem to wrap her head around that. How was it easier to see a ghost then an angel?
He hitched his shoulders in a brief shrug but remained silent.
"Apparently nothing he can't handle." Lexi's tone was wry. She wasn't sure what trouble she caused him, but he certainly had caused enough upheaval in her life.
A faint smile curved Kat's lips. She seemed on the verge of saying something when Mikos spoke.
"Come," he said in a clipped tone. "I'll show you where you will stay."
Without waiting for her response, he strode to the hallway, his walk filled with confidence as if he expected her to follow meekly at his heels. She shrugged. Why not. She'd promised.
"Okay," she said. "After that, I'll head back to my apartment and grab a few things."
Lexi's mind organized the things she'd need with her. Then came to an abrupt halt when she hit a firm, masculine back.
"Hey!"
Mikos turned. Lexi didn't have a chance to step back. His sudden stop and spin put him within inches of her face. She hastily retreated a couple of steps. Shit, she didn't care if he thought her scared, she just didn't want to be that close to him. It did funny things to her senses, knocking them out of sync.
"You agreed to remain here." His lips were drawn into a tight line, his eyebrows lowered.
"I know, but you didn't expect me to not go back for any of my things? And what about my job? Or school? Am I supposed to give everything up?"
"Lexi, I will take care of all your needs. Your old life is no longer. Once you agreed to train, you agreed to give up your current life."
Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut a second later. "I only agreed to train, and to stay with you while I did. I didn't agree to give up everything I've worked for." She lifted her chin. "What if you discover I'm not the person you think I am? Then what am I supposed to do?"
His tight expression eased, and a slight smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "You are the Defender."
"Says you. Or can't angels be wrong?" Lexi sighed. "I won't give up my life."
"You have to," Mikos said. "You have no choice."
She bristled, actually feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. What an asinine comment.
"No choice? What a crock. Of course I have a choice, and right now, I'm choosing to walk out this door and go back to my apartment. When I'm done picking up some of my things, I'll come back here to train as I promised. Then you'll keep your promise."
She started for the door, but before she got close, it slammed shut. On its freaking own. Spinning around, Lexi scowled. Eyes wide, palms spread, Mikos was the picture of innocence. If she ignored the cocky lift of his eyebrow and quirk of his lips.
"Open the door."
"No."
"Open the goddamned door!"
"You would go back on your word?" Mikos's tone had changed from determined to a silky, smooth voice, tinged with the iron edge of anger.
"I'm not going back on my word." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "But I'm not staying here without some of my things."
"It is too dangerous."
Lexi threw up her hands. "Now, it's too dangerous? What happened in the last," she looked at her watch, "hour that changed?"
"You hadn't told me about Beliel."
"For Pete's sake! He didn't harm me," Lexi said. She could feel the heat rising in her chest and neck as anger short-circuited her system.
"You can't trust him."
"I don't trust anyone. Him. You."
"Mikos, perhaps you should..." Kat's worried tone trailed off when both Lexi and Mikos turned to glare at her.
Damn. A Mexican standoff. Kat should have known her friend would not accept such a dictatorial approach. Lexi hadn't as a young adult, and it looked like the past seven years had done little to change that. The problem was Mikos was used to being in control.
Ever since her death, Kat had lingered in the Spirit Realm. Despite her lack of body, she'd been, well, compelled to stay close to Lexi. The Angels, those closest to the Physical Realm, tried to convince Kat to pass on. She couldn't. Or wouldn't. Either way, over the past seven years, she'd watched. And agonized as her friend lost every last bit of faith. In people. In herself.
Had it been coincidence Kat found Mikos? Or had it been some kind of greater design that began their friendship? After meeting Mikos, he'd told her about his search for a mysterious, powerful woman who was supposed to save the world. Kat realized he meant Lexi.
Her best friend's destiny made sense. Even during those dark times on the streets, Lexi protected the weak. It was how she and Lexi had hooked up. Kat's own bad fortune, and decisions, had led her to fall in love with a dangerous man. Only, she hadn't known it at the time. Death changed that.
She had loved Ash with everything she had.
Heart.
Soul.
Everything.
And, she still believed he'd loved her. None of that changed the irrefutable fact her beloved Ash was a demon. Not the fallen variety, but a full blood, black-souled demon. Even as a specter, Kat felt the betrayal. And the loss.
And even, at times, the love.
Pulling herself from the painful memories, Kat looked at Lexi and Mikos standing toe to toe. There was attraction there.
For both of them.
Kat frowned. Mikos was an angel. A fallen angel who'd seen the error of his ways and served the Light, but still fallen. He couldn't get involved with Lexi for many reasons, least of all which it was forbidden.
Lexi, on the other hand, desperately needed someone. Kat had watched as each time her friend let someone near, which had been rare, something made her pull back. It would take the equivalent of a battering ram to break the barrier Lexi had around her heart.
A shiver swept through Kat's spectral form. Beliel. While she'd never had the misfortune to cross his path, she'd certainly heard of him. Many, many times.
A king of darkness said to have been created second only to Lucifer, yet equal in his desire to sow chaos and evil in the Earthly realm. Worse, she'd heard the rumors that Beliel was one of Lucifer's sons.
Kat pushed away the gloomy thoughts and focused on her angry friend and the dark angel. With her hands fisted on her hips and her chin jutting forward, Lexi appeared the very essence of fury.
"Tell him." She slanted a look at Kat, Lexi's expression held frustration and an appeal for assistance. "Tell him I won't stay here without some of my things."
Kat wanted to side with Lexi, but this was between the fallen angel and her friend. She couldn't interfere. Luckily, Mikos took the choice from her.
"Kat, I give you leave to depart." His icy tone shimmered in the room. Kat could almost see the words crystallizing in the air. And the mounting fury in Lexi's copper gaze. Uh, oh.
"Sorry, Lexi, gotta go. I'll see you soon. I promise." After a final glance at her headstrong friend, Kat faded into the Spirit Realm. God above, she hoped Mikos knew what he was doing.
Lexi stared, her nostrils flaring as her only ally faded from view. Damn it! What control did Mikos have over Kat?
Lexi turned back to him. A satisfied look tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Fine, send her away." She puffed out a breath, feeling her gritted teeth slide together. "I don't need her support, you coward."
She started forward again, her hands rose to push him away. There was no chance in hell she was going to stay here with him and not have some of her own things. Her clothes. Her weapons.
Her parents' picture.
She had to give him credit. He didn't move or flinch away from her approach even though she was sure her eyes showed her contemplating kicking his ass. Angel or not.
"What about Devyn?"
She froze. Low blow. Bastard.
Her mouth opened and closed several times. Great, now she looked like a fish. "I haven't forgotten about her." Lexi lowered her chin slightly.
Time for some compromise.
"Listen, I only need a few of my personal things. You can allow," she choked mentally on the word, "me to make myself comfortable with some of my items or we can keep fighting." She gestured, her arm encompassing the room. "I know I promised, and I plan to keep it as long as you keep your side but I can't stay here without my stuff."
"Very well, I will go with you."
For the second time, her mouth dropped open. This time, she left it there. What the hell had just happened? She'd thought for sure they'd be coming to blows again, but the damn angel had just capitulated without further argument.
Lexi didn't want him anywhere near her apartment, but she had a sneaking suspicion she'd not win this battle. So, she lifted her shoulders. "Whatever. Let's go."
Mikos walked over to the weapon's wall and pulled down a short blade. Bigger than a knife but smaller than a sword, the metal shone in the light. He tucked it into a scabbard, which he affixed to his hip.
"Is that necessary?" She tapped an impatient foot. "Do you expect to be attacked by a horde of knights?
"The demon could be waiting for you."
She sighed. "Do whatever you want. One question. Where the hell are you going to hide that thing? Someone is going to notice it. I don't think you want the police asking questions."
Mikos nodded. Once the scabbard was buckled, he waved a hand over the weapon. Both blade and scabbard disappeared. He looked up and met her questioning eyes. "It is still there. Just invisible."
Just invisible, huh? He said that as if was of no consequence. Maybe it wasn't for him. For her, it was amazing. And bewildering.
While Mikos continued to choose and discard other items, Lexi thought about Beliel. The demon had offered her everything she'd always wanted if she'd give up something she didn't have. She'd half thought his visit had been some kind of dream. But, if Mikos was real so was the demon.
That put a whole new perspective on the whole bargaining concept.
"Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances."
Euripedes
Lexi stared out the car window, her breath misting up the inside. Mikos's car, which he'd insisted on taking instead of a taxi. Neither had said anything in the past ten minutes while his vehicle struggled to get through Chicago during rush hour. For herself, Lexi didn't know what to say. Or ask.
There were so many things whirling through her head. After years of comfortable familiarity with the people and places around her, suddenly, everything and everyone was different. Like roaches when the lights go out, hidden agendas scampered out of the psyches of people she thought she knew.
"Lexi?"
Lost in thought, she vaguely heard Mikos call her name. Twice.
Her mind shifted gears, returning to the moment. "Yeah?"
"I understand your confusion."
"Do you?" She deliberately kept her inflection mild, yet tipped with sarcasm.
"It was never meant for you to learn about your heritage as an adult. Your training should have begun while you were a child."
Lexi faced him. Or, at least his profile as he kept a vigil on the bumper-to-bumper cars ahead of him. "So, why now? Why even bother?"
Lines furrowed his brow. "Do you know the significance of October thirty-first?"
"Is there anyone in America who doesn't? It's Halloween."
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Hmm. She studied his face. Mikos had a stubborn, arrogant profile, highlighted by a patrician nose and assertive chin. The shadow of a beard accented his square jaw line. She had to admit. God, if she believed, had put together quite an attractive package when he made this angel.
Her gaze roved over the rest of him. Dark hair curled about his ear, the midnight strands teasing the top of his collar. The longer she stared, the more she realized what drew her to him. Not his powerful profile or the muscular, compact shape of his form barely hinted at under his clothing. None of that left her insides aching for his touch.
It was his lips.
Full and sensual, they begged to be caressed. She wondered how his lips would feel against her own. Would they be soft or firm? Gentle or punishing?
Once upon a time, she might have found out. Lexi tilted her head slightly. Maybe she still would. But not now.
Somehow, the whole dark and dangerous package fit. He didn't look like the blond-haired, blue-eyed, almost feminine-featured figures so frequently portrayed as the angelic stereotype. No shining innocence for Mikos.
Enigmatic. Mysterious. Deliciously appealing.
"Hmm?" Lexi dragged her gaze away from ogling over Mikos's appearance. While she'd been cataloguing his features, he'd apparently been talking. Get your head together, Lexi. "I'm sorry. What?"
"October thirty-first is much more than a night children dress up and get candy. The Celts called it Samhain, which means summer's end. The end of their year."
"And this relates to me how?"
"Because Samhain is one of the most liminal times of the year. The threshold, or veil, that separates the physical world, your realm, from the Otherworld, is at it thinnest."
"Blah, blah, blah, Mikos. Speak English. I only took a couple of classes in magical studies. We didn't cover that much detail."
He opened his mouth to respond, then paused as a taxicab, horn blaring, swerved in front of him about a foot from Mikos's bumper. Lexi would have blown her horn and flipped the driver off.
Mikos did neither. He simply jerked his wheel to avoid the collision. Other than the slight smile that tipped the corners of his lips, no other expression crossed his face. He didn't even appear to be angry with the rush hour drivers.
Lexi didn't drive much. The antics of her co-occupants of the road tended to leave her with a very sour stomach. Everyone was out for himself or herself which seemed to become more apparent on the road. Proof positive the human race sucked. And she was supposed to protect them?
Turning off her morose thoughts, she concentrated on Mikos's words, not his chiseled jaw and sensual lips.
"Samhain is also the most magical night of the year. Beliel will use both Samhain's power and the thinness of the veil to release seventy-two demons from their prison."
"And this, uh, book he thinks I have? What does it do?"
"The book, the Key, contains the summons and invocations to release the demons. And to control them."
Terrific. She's supposed to have a book to bring more demons into the world? Didn't the world have enough human demons without bringing supernatural demons into the mix?
Didn't matter. Lexi snorted. "Beliel is barking up the wrong tree. I don't have such a book."
Mikos cocked his head, his eyes leaving the busy road for a brief moment. Long enough for her to recognize the question in his dark eyes. "Barking up the wrong tree. I do not recognize that phrase."
"Basically it means looking for something in the wrong place." Lexi shrugged. "I can't help him."
"You know where the book is, Lexi."
"Aren't you listening? I said I don't. I'd think I'd remember something like that. Besides, my parents didn't leave me anything except my name."
"The location of the book is something each protector is born with. It's in your blood. Figuratively and metaphorically."
"Yuck. He needs my blood?" Lexi felt her nose wrinkle. Again, the theme from The Twilight Zone rang through her mind. "What is he? Some type of vampire?"
A small smile pulled at the corner of those full lips. "No, he's not a vampire."
"Then what do you mean? What does he want with me?"
"Your memories." He turned his head to briefly to glance at her. "I'm not talking about what you recall from your childhood. The memories I'm referring to are the imprints your heritage left in your mind. Even to the point of knowing where the book is hidden."
"Hidden?"
He shrugged. "If you do not physically possess the book, then it must be hidden. You'll have the knowledge in your mind. I will help you remember."
"If he needs me, needs my memories, then why did he try to kill me?"
"That night Beliel possessed a human male," Mikos explained, "I was unable to determine which one. This allowed him to get close to you. Likely to determine what you knew." He frowned. "As to why he tried to kill you, I suspect he momentarily lost control of his human host."
"You suspect he lost control?" Lexi scoffed, "So the mighty angel doesn't know everything?"
He swiveled. Lexi started to chew him out about paying attention to his driving when she realized he'd parked in front of her building. She'd been so focused on what he said she hadn't even noticed he'd stopped.
"I never said I was God." His lips twisted. "Just an angel."
Lexi opened the door to her apartment. Before she crossed the threshold, Mikos put an arm across her front. He stepped in front of her, and then entered her apartment.
Miffed, she frowned and fidgeted, but let him do his macho, protect-the-woman thing. Apparently even angels of the masculine persuasion felt the need to be protective. He'd learn. She didn't want or need his protection.
When Mikos called out it was safe to enter, Lexi followed and found him standing in the center of the room, his head raised. Was he sniffing? She neared. His gray eyes were sparking again. Pulling on angel powers? She barely kept from snickering.
He slanted a look at her. His eyes continued to spark, teeming with power. "The demon was here. Not recently."
"Good to know." She could have told him that. In fact, she had. Some angel powers.
Lexi walked around him then stopped when he barred her access with his body. "What?"
"Do not take long."
She simply stared at him until he moved away. Yep, he was going to be quite a joy to live with. If he survived training her.
Once in her bedroom, Lexi grabbed an old battered suitcase from under the bed and started shoving some workout clothing and various other delicates and sundries into it. She started to zip the bag closed, but hesitated, her glance caught by the small, framed picture of her parents.
The tarnished brass frame sat on her dresser, the flowers she'd forgotten to replace, dropping petals over the wood. The rest of the dresser lay half buried behind books on martial arts and anthropology.
She walked over to the bureau and picked up the single thing she had of her parents. Really, how had she managed to keep the picture with her all these years?
Certainly not something she thought of each time she had to pack for another home. And after Tom---well, somehow, this remaining link to her parents continued to stay with her.
Lexi studied her parent's faces. Her mother, petite and blonde. A stereotypical California girl. Bronzed by the sun, streaks of light in her honey-colored hair, her blue eyes laughed up at the tall man standing beside her.
Alexander Thermopolis Harrison. Her father. While she looked nothing like her mother, she could have been her father's twin. The same exotic coloring, amber eyes with a slight cant at the corners, and coal black hair.
Except where her thick locks were long and straight, her father's had a slight wave, which showed itself in the dip of hair at his brow.
Lexi knew nothing about them except their names. No relatives or friends. No background or history. Nothing. And if the stories Mikos told were true, one of her parents had left her with a destiny she didn't want.
Despite that, the portrait of her parents was all she had. She tossed the frame into her bag and finished zipping it closed. Taking one last look around, she walked into the living area. The angel, she felt like giggling when she thought that, stood in front of her bookcase. He seemed to be perusing the vast array of books.
Her mind inventoried what he saw. An eclectic collection of books on anthropology, magic, martial arts intertwined with fiction in a sampling of various genres from mysteries to science fiction to romance. She liked to read. The written word was a beautiful thing and she enjoyed their complexity in all their forms.
Mikos reached into the shelves and pulled out The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage translated by S.L. MacGregor Mathers. During one of her forays into used bookstores for reference material for a research paper, she'd found this grimoire, which professes to be the primary source of modern ceremonial magic. He turned his head slightly. "Interesting collection you have."
Lexi hadn't made any noise, yet he'd known she was there. "School."
He nodded then turned to face her. "Still, your choice of subjects points to a subconscious acknowledgement of your destiny even if your conscious won't let you believe."
"If I understood what you just said, would I be insulted?"
A quirk of his full lips flashed before he smoothed them in to his normal closed mouth expression. Hmm. She'd wondered if the angel could smile. Those lips were too magnificent to be compressed.
"Do you have everything you require?"
Lexi looked around. "Yeah, I don't need much." She cocked a head. "I don't expect I'll be gone long so what's the use..."
Her further comments trailed off when Mikos jerked his head back, lifting his chin into the air. At the same time, she caught a faint whiff of sulfur. Oh shit, did that mean Beliel was returning? Lexi suspected putting the angel and the demon into the same space, at the same time, was a very bad idea.
A faint shimmer near the center of the room, about four feet from her, wavered into view. The figure solidified, and Mikos unsheathed his sword, for Pete's sake. He leaped for Lexi's side. Pushing her behind him, he faced the fast solidifying intruder.
"Hey," she began. How dare he use the knight in shining armor crap on her.
Mikos slanted a glare over his shoulder, his gray eyes nearly silver. Oops. Maybe she'd keep her mouth shut.
The ebony-skinned intruder regarded them through yellow eyes. Not just yellow pupils, but sun-bright yellow on sun-bright yellow. The shape shivered, much like she'd seen birds do when settling ruffled feathers. Lexi gawked at the man-shaped form.
Shit, those were feathers showing on the exposed skin. At least they looked like feathers from where she stood. Rounded at the tips, the crow-like feathers had a scintillating display of rainbow colors dancing upon their glossy black surface.
A demon. There was a feather-wearing, freaking demon in her apartment.
And, if its appearance meant anything, a big, nasty-looking, feather wearing freaking demon.
"Malphas. You do not belong here." Mikos lifted the sword in his right hand while he also held the palm of his left hand toward the demon.
"Phoenix. The stories are true, then. You have returned to the physical realm."
The nasal, high-pitched but low, tone screeched against her nerves as if the creature had screamed. She didn't have to know anything about this Malphas to recognize this was one badass demon.
"Why do you turn aside from your brethren? Let me have the woman," Malphas continued.
His brethren? Lexi sent a questioning look at Mikos. He was an angel, right? So how could a demon claim him as brethren?
"Go back to Belial and tell him he will not find the Vessel."
"He does not need to find the Vessel." Malphas turned his yellow eyes on Lexi. "The woman will."
"She will not aid him in his quest for the Vessel."
"Excuse me, but the woman isn't even sure she's taking the job." She shoved at Mikos's shoulder, pushing past him. No one ever spoke for her.
"Beliel said forty-eight hours and," she looked at her watch, "I have twenty-two hours left. Go away."
Lexi glanced at Mikos. His expression was worth everything he'd put her through. His beautiful gray eyes boggled, and horrified fascination etched deep lines in his face. A nerve twitched in the corner of his jaw. "Lexi, you---"
"Interesting," Malphas interrupted, his guttural tone practically purring. "The Defender does not wish to be a defender?"
Wonderful, she'd pleased the demon. Bully for her.
"Truly intriguing." Malphas nodded. "No defender has ever refused. I do not envy you her training, Phoenix."
Lexi had just congratulated herself on the masterful way she'd handled the demon, no thanks to Mikos, when Malphas shrugged.
"Her desires in the matter make no difference. She will return with me."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, you overgrown, yellow-eyed, feather wearing---" Lexi would have said more except suddenly, she couldn't speak.
Her mouth moved, the words clearly spoken in her mind, but no sound spilled forth. She darted a glance at Mikos to find him glaring at her. Had he just done something to her? The question must have echoed in her eyes because he gave a quick nod before turning back to Malphas.
In a beautifully executed move of pure childishness if she said so herself, she stomped her foot. Angel or not, if her instincts hadn't been screaming that going anywhere with Malphas would be a disastrous mistake, she would have knocked Mikos out for spelling her to be silent. As it was, she half feared he was the strongest protection she had against the freaky feather-wearing demon.
A loud caw of laughter boomeranged throughout the small space. Turning her impotent anger from Mikos, Lexi faced Malphas whose crow-sounding laughter rebounded in her apartment.
"She is magnificent." The demon abruptly broke off mid-caw, the humor gone from his eyes. "Enough. I will take her now."
Black wings sprang from Mikos's back, snapped open, their double spanned tips brushing against the apartment wall. Muted gray armor covered him from his neck all the way down to his toes. He carried a greatsword, long and slender, the round pommel engraved with curving and squiggly lines set in the shape of a rectangle.
Lexi had a terrifying feeling the proverbial shit had just hit the proverbial fan.
To her consternation, the feather-clad demon pushed his palms toward Mikos, and a spurt of flames erupted. She swore. Her sanjiegun wouldn't stop fire. Mikos spoke a word and drew a pattern in the air. The flames hit the pattern and bounced off, deflecting back to Malphas.
Before her astonished eyes, the flames disappeared into the demon's black-feathered skin as if the red-hot blaze consisted of nothing more substantial than mist.
With another gesture, Malphas threw a bolt of pure blue light. Electricity? Lightening? Lexi didn't want to find out. Before she could stop herself or even wonder why she took the action she did, Lexi stepped in front of Mikos and snatched at his greatsword. The grip settled into her hand as if it had been made especially for her.
She pointed the slender blade at the energy lance and shouted one word, "Evanesco!" The blue bolt struck the sword and disappeared. Not absorbed into the metal. Disappeared. Poof. Gone.
Lexi froze, blinking in bewilderment. What had just happened? She hadn't been able to speak, yet the Latin word shot effortlessly from her mouth. She looked over at Mikos. He gave her a sidelong glance of surprise tinged with another emotion. Satisfaction?
A raucous squawk sounding more furious than startled, came from Malphas yanking Lexi's attention from Mikos. The demon's yellow eyes narrowed to mere pinpoints of color against his ebony skin.
What the hell did the freaking demon plan to do next? The sharp glitter in his eyes hinted he had access to an arsenal bigger than fire and energy bolts.
"Stop!" Lexi stepped in front of Mikos. For Pete's sake! She was so done with acting like a spectator. She kept her gaze locked on Malphas.
She'd had enough. "Excuse me. Defender or not, I don't like being talked about as if I wasn't standing here not two feet from you."
Malphas clenched his fingers into fists. The light snapped off. He lifted a feathery eyebrow and planted both legs squarely, his hands on his hips.
She jabbed a finger at him. "Beliel and I have an agreement. He said he'd give me forty-eight hours. I don't like to be forced. You tell him if he wants an honest decision, he'll wait.
"Otherwise, I'll side with---," she jerked her thumb at Mikos, "---the angel's team." She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, meeting the demon's bright sun-washed gaze.
Malphas held her gaze. His eyes glazed, and he stared into the distance. Suddenly, his expression cleared, and he nodded.
"Very well. Beliel accepts your terms. He will return for your answer in twenty-two hours." His turn to lean forward and narrow his eyes. "He tells me to warn you there is only one response he will accept."
After a brief nod for Mikos, Malphas disappeared as fast as he'd appeared. A hint of sulfur filled the air. Lexi sneezed, the noise reverberating throughout her apartment like buckshot. She even startled herself.
"Christ's wounds, Lexi."
The sharp, cutting edge in the tone pulled her from Malphas departure to face Mikos.
"You insist on honoring your deal with Beliel?" he continued. A thin chill hung on the fringe of his words. "Why?"
"News flash, I don't have to explain myself to you."
"While you are under my guidance, you do. You will refrain from entering into any deals---"
"Is that how you think this will go?" Lexi interrupted. "You get to tell me what to do, and I'll just roll over and do what you demand?"
Yeah, right. Angel or not, she did not respond to force. Or control. Both of which Mikos appeared to possess in abundance at this moment.
When he opened his mouth to respond, she held up her hand and shot him a glare. "Let me clear something up for you. Regardless of the end result of this whole defender-of-the-universe gig, I will never let anyone tell me what I can do and not do."
Mikos closed in until he was about a foot from her face. Silver glowed, filling his eyes until an aura of white light emanated from within.
Lexi met him glare for glare, her chin thrust upward, hands on her hips. She would not back down from this uber-alpha male angel.
"You will listen to me. It is for your own good."
She snorted. "You know, whenever someone says that, it usually means the opposite." She jerked a thumb to her chest. "I decide, no one else, what's good for me."
His glance darted to her thumb, still pressed on her chest. Something zinged through the space between them. Lexi shuddered and drew in a sharp breath. Lust flared, turning her insides into oatmeal.
Mikos's nostrils flared. Her body answered with a rapid thud of her pulse. Oh shit, here we go again. She didn't want this. No, really, she didn't.
Really. Did. Not. Want. This.
So why was her body leaning toward him, her feet intending to follow? At the same time, the distant part of her, the one terrified at the thought of being with a man, any man, quivered.
A car backfired outside. Lexi jumped then skittered backward. A small triumph when Mikos did the same. His face flushed, and he averted his eyes. But not before she saw the silver rapidly begin to fade.
His fingers flexed then clenched into fists. He backed away a few steps, and then turned and strode over to the large window. Everything about his posture, from the rigid lines to the white knuckles, seemed to radiate frustration and annoyance and no little amount of guilt. Or she hoped he felt guilt.
Not that it mattered. She didn't freaking care how much guilt he might feel.
Scowling at his stiff back, she ground out, "Tell me you didn't do your thing again?" He didn't reply, and his posture remained rigid.
Lexi threw up her hands. "I don't believe this. You said you'd never use that woo-woo crap on me again. And you did."
She snatched her bag from the floor where she'd dropped in when the demon showed. "Nothing to say? Fine. I'm out of here."
Before Mikos could stop her, she was out the door and thudding down the stairs.
When Lexi darted for the door, Mikos whipped around to block her exit. He was not sure it would work, but he had to stop her from leaving. Out the door before he could react, he started after her.
"Phoenix, leave her be." Michael's tone stopped Mikos in his tracks.
He rolled his eyes. This he did not need. Turning his head, he looked into the serene gaze of the Archangel. "It is not safe for her to be out there. Alone."
"She will be fine. You've made her angry. And confused her. She needs some time."
Mikos growled. "There is no more time. You said so yourself. If she doesn't find the Key before Beliel, if he gets to it and releases the spirits, the human race will fall."
He lowered his head and turned back to the window and watched Lexi get into a taxi. The vehicle spun tires as it took off.
"You should not have pushed her."
Mikos's mind floundered, at a loss for words. What could he say? The Archangel was right. He had pushed Lexi even knowing how she'd react. Worse, he'd let his lust rear its ugly head after he had promised her he wouldn't. Shame filled him.
"Mikos?"
With a deliberately casual movement, Mikos spun and faced Michael, keeping his expression detached. "Find another mentor for the Defender. I am the wrong one to fill the role."
Michael sighed yet his blue gaze remained gentle. Understanding.
Implacable.
"What makes you say that?"
"I cannot control my emotions around the Defender. This leaves me weak."
"Weak?" Michael shook her head. He walked over to the obsidian statute of one of Egypt's most popular goddesses, Sekhmet. With a fingertip, he touched the disk on top of the Goddess' head then looked at Mikos. "No, your emotions do not make you weak. Confused, perhaps, even angry, but not weak."
"If what you say is true then I've confused her. Not a good thing for her mentor to do."
Michael chuckled. The sound rang clear like a set of crystal chimes caressed by a gentle wind. "Yes, frightening her was not a good thing to do." His face turned serious. "I am sure you will not do so again."
Mikos ran his fingers through his hair. "How can you be sure?" His tone came out ragged. "I'm not sure I can. She pulls at me."
"Phoenix, you know a relationship between Fallen and a mortal, even the Defender, is forbidden. Especially a Fallen seeking redemption."
Mikos did not have to look at the Archangel to recognize his concern. A silken thread of warning hovered between the words. He knew his interest and attraction to Lexi was prohibited. In fact, any sexual interaction with any mortal woman would cost him any chance at returning to Heaven.
Not even for the intriguing charms of Lexi would he throw away everything he'd fought for all these centuries for a moment in her arms.
Mikos met the Michael's gaze. He gave him a stiff bow. "I have no intention of sacrificing my chance at redemption for the Defender. Or any mortal woman."
The Archangel nodded, a flash of an indefinable emotion in his blue eyes. "Yes, you would most certainly be forbidden to return home.
"Very well." He moved to the center of the room. Every line of his posture elegant and regal. "You must control yourself around the Defender. She is not the type to take orders. You must gain her trust."
"I have to find her first."
A slight twist of his lips. "Do not worry, Phoenix, she will return. Lexi is fearful and angry, but she is strong and stubborn. She will keep her promise."
"More bull-headed than stubborn."
Another chuckle. "There is that." Michael walked to Mikos and placed a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder. "She will come around. Do not lose your faith, Phoenix."
As he spoke, his form shimmered and in a burst of vision-blinding light, Michael disappeared.
"Faith?" Mikos muttered. "I have enough faith. Control. That I lack." He sighed then spoke a soft word. Lexi's apartment faded from sight. He would return to his car then home. And pray Michael was right.
Lady Luck smiled on her and a taxi pulled up just as she stepped into the street. Lexi yanked open the door and slid into the back.
"Where to?"
"Just drive. I don't care where. Just go."
The driver shrugged. "Your dime." He cocked his head and looked at her through the rear view mirror. "You do have money to pay for this sight-seeing trip?"
"Yes, yes, just go. I'll let you know where to go when I figure it out."
He shrugged again and pulled out into the after-dinner traffic.
Lexi sank back into the seat. What was this power Mikos had over her? More than anything, his ability to cause her to react with her heart and not her head, disturbed her deeply. She didn't want to feel anything for Mikos. For anyone.
After about fifteen minutes sitting in the back of the taxi with the scent of stale smoke and perspiration filling her nose, Lexi knew what she had to do. That wasn't the problem. The problem was would she do it?
"Hey, girl."
Lexi started and let out a squeak of surprise. Kat, her trademark twisted grin and dimples lighting her face, sat next to her on the vinyl seats.
"Damn, Kat. What are you doing?" Lexi darted a glance at the driver. "He can see you."
Kat shook her head. "Nope, only you can." She sat back, crossing her arms over her spectral chest. "Now, he might hear you talking. I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time he's had some crazy person in his cab."
"Crazy? Ha. I knew I was losing my mind. You just confirmed that."
Kat chuckled, her green eyes soft with warmth. "No, silly, I was just joking." She tilted her head. "Well, not about him thinking you're crazy. He probably will. But, you aren't you know, don't you? What's happening is real."
"Hey, what happened to my if-I-can't-see-smell-taste-or-touch-it-it-doesn't-exist friend?"
A small smile touched Kat's lips. "She died."
Ouch, Lexi thought. Like she needed the reminder.
"I'm sorry, Kat, it's just that with you, well..." She waved a hand at her friend, then continued, "here, in front of me, it's hard to believe that you, er, died."
The smile filled Kat's cheeks, pushing the flesh into the dimples Lexi remembered so well. "I know, really." She tilted her head. "As you do, don't you?"
Lexi sighed and closed her eyes, her head against the seat back. "Yeah, I'm beginning to suspect that." She opened her eyes and pinned Kat with a scowl. "Why me?"
"Mikos didn't explain?"
Lexi snorted. "I think I heard the bunny-tail version, all soft and cuddly with no substance. I get the whole defense of mankind thing. You know I've always believed the world went much deeper than what we saw. That's not what bothers me."
She paused and clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.
"Kat, why would the powers-that-be pick me?" she continued. "For the most part, it's not a secret I don't even care what happens to my fellow humans. Well, except for you of course."
Kat smiled, her ghostly expression filled with empathy and understanding. "I know."
"So, I don't get it. Surely there must be some other Mother Theresa persona to be this defender. Why would God place the fate of the world in my hands? I don't even believe in him. Not really."
"It's your family's destiny."
Lexi waved her hand, dismissing Kat's comment. "Their destiny, not mine. Remember? Except for you, I don't have a family."
"Since when did you become so cynical and bitter?"
Lexi met Kat's bright emerald gaze. "Since you died."
Petty she knew, to throw that back at Kat, but it was true. Not that she was angry at her, but that her mindset had completely changed at Kat's death.
"Oh, Lexi. I'm so sorry."
"Why? It wasn't your fault." Lexi shrugged. "You fell in love with the wrong person."
"Yes," Kat whispered. Anguish glittered in her eyes. "More than you know."
"Hey, girl, it happens. Don't beat yourself up. He's not worth it."
Lexi thought the words might comfort Kat. If anything, the wretchedness on her friend's spectral face deepened. Something was seriously wrong with her best friend. "Kat, what's up?"
Kat shook her head. "It's okay. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine. Is there something about Ash you aren't telling me?"
Kat hunched her shoulders. An interesting movement for a being made of little more substance than mist. Lexi hadn't known ghosts had such a range of emotional behavior. Of course, it wasn't like she had any basis for comparison. Kat was her first ghost.
Lexi felt like groaning. That she treated Kat's appearance as commonplace spoke volumes regarding her acceptance of the changes in her life.
A quick glance at the driver's expression showed he was either so focused on the road in front of him or trying his damnedest to get to her drop off point and get rid of the crazy person in his back seat. It actually freaked her out a bit he didn't make any remark about her conversation with what he can only think is herself.
"Lexi, honestly, I'm fine." Kat smiled, the pull of her lips weak, but still a smile. "Let's talk about you and Mikos. Why do you fight him so hard?"
Lexi snorted. "Are you kidding? I thought angels were supposed to be all tender and supportive. All Mikos has done is boss me around. I think I got gypped. Tender and supportive, my ass."
Kat chuckled. "Mikos is not your typical angel."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"I can't. Mikos's story is his to tell. I can tell you he really isn't a bad de---, uh, angel."
"That doesn't really help, Kat." Lexi shrugged. "Besides, whether he's a bad angel or isn't doesn't bother me. It's this---thing---he does, some kind of magic I guess, that makes me want to drool like a love-struck teenager."
A frown flitted across Kat's face. "He uses power on you?"
"Well, it's not me wanting to jump his bones. Not by myself."
Right? Lexi had no interest in Mikos so it had to be his angel powers turning her into mush. Another side to her scoffed. If she said it often enough, eventually she'd believe her own PR.
"Are you sure?"
At the slight hint of a smile pulling at Kat's spectral lips, Lexi choked. "Damn, Kat, whose side are you on? Of course, I'm sure. I do not want to have sex with Mikos."
Kat threw up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." She cocked her head. "So. What now?"
Lexi sighed. "I just don't know. A part of me wants to learn about my past. I've never had one. Not really. Never knew my parents. I don't believe I can save the world, even if I wanted to, but finding out about something from my past---"
She felt her hands clench on her lap, her nails digging into her palms. "Well, that keeps me wanting to stay."
"And the other part?"
"Wants to run like hell in the other direction."
Impatiently, Mikos paced back and forth in front of the grand fireplace in his den. Stubborn, hardheaded woman. To go off on her own. Without protection. Without her training being finished.
And what if Michael was wrong? Mikos rubbed his fingers over his chin. What if she didn't return? He couldn't force her. It wasn't as if he didn't have the ability to do so. He did.
Yet, if he used coercion, he'd never be able to convince Lexi his actions were for the sake of her and the human race. She'd feel betrayed. He couldn't do that. He needed to build her faith, not destroy it.
A burgundy book with bold silver gilt lettering caught his attention. While he waited, he might as well become reacquainted with history. After millennium of existence, ancient things tended to get a bit fuzzy. Even for angels. Immortal? Yes. Infallible? No.
With gentle fingers, he pulled down the book written by Grigori regarding the defenders and settled into the rich blue leather of the bustle back Chippendale wing chair. Heat from the cheerfully crackling fire warmed his exposed skin. He sighed.
Mikos flipped open a page near the front and looked at one of the first defenders. Interesting. He hadn't really noticed before, and his memories of her weren't as clear as they used to be, but Lexi had a striking resemblance to Sophronia, the first female defender of the line.
Her proud bearing, dark locks and cat-like slant to her eyes matched Lexi identically. It seemed she matched her ancestor in other ways as well. Xaviera, having been one of the Grigori assigned to watch Sophronia, had spoken of her willfulness and determination. Same thing her heir had in full. However, what Lexi lacked, which Sophronia possessed in abundance, was faith.
And Sophronia didn't have a hang up about her fellow mortals. Mikos sighed again, a long-drawn out exhale.
"Is Beliel causing you trouble, brother?" The cool tone rolled over his body. "Or is the new defender the reason for your sigh?"
Mikos jerked to his feet. The book fell to the floor with a muffled thump on the carpet. He knew who belonged to that steel-edged, mocking tone. "Asher."
"At your pleasure." The dark-haired, dark-eyed man reclined at the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankles on the polished wood.
"Get out," Mikos snarled.
Asher the Black. Lucifer's Slayer. Dark Prince of Hell. Once a being closer to Mikos than even that of a brother. The pain under the anger surprised Mikos. He hadn't expected to still feel so much raw emotion this long after Ash's betrayal.
Ash shook his head and made a tsking sound. "I have not seen you for a century or two and this is the welcome I receive?"
"It's more than you deserve." Mikos stalked over to his weapons wall. "How the hell did you get in?"
Ash held up his hands. "Relax, Mikos. I'm not here to cause trouble." He cocked his head. "I suppose you didn't get around to changing your wards?"
Damn. He hadn't. His domicile wards gave Ash full access. He wouldn't have to break the wards---all he had to do was walk in. Why hadn't Mikos changed the wards? Was it because he'd hoped Ash would change? Or because Mikos feared he would?
"I'm not here to attack you," Ash continued, his easy tone and placating expression sounding sincere if one didn't look too deep in the pitch gaze. He stood and moved around to the front of the desk.
"Then what?" Mikos didn't snatch a weapon from the wall, but he didn't move away either.
Their relationship had shattered when Ash decided staying Lucifer's Slayer was more important than their friendship. He stayed behind; Mikos began his struggle for redemption.
"I've come to warn you." Ash's relaxed mien faded. What filled his face now was a tight seriousness that more than anything convinced Mikos of the Slayer's truth. "Morningstar plans to side with Beliel."
Mikos lifted an eyebrow. Morningstar, also known as Lucifer, Ruler of Hell, very rarely lifted a hand to act. While deadly when he chose to play demon games, he normally let his demon Lords cause chaos and dissension.
The possibility of Lucifer taking an active role in this dispute was a disturbing consideration.
"Since when does Lucifer take sides in these battles? He's never bothered before."
"I do not know what Beliel has offered." Ash hitched his shoulders. "I did not realize he and Morningstar were on bartering terms."
He paused. "There is talk of releasing Rahab."
"Stercus." The profanity slipped from Mikos's mouth. He wasn't prone to fear. Not his way, yet, Rehab, the Ruler of the Sea, a she-demon who took on the aspect of a dragon caused even the mighty Archangels to tread with caution.
"You are certain?"
Ash shrugged again. "As certain as I could be without having actually heard the words from either Lucifer or Beliel." He finished and an odd expression crossed his face.
Uncertainty? Worry?
A press of pressure took his focus from Ash. The wards alerted him to the arrival of another presence. Inwardly, Mikos groaned. He'd have to do something about strengthening the wards.
"Mikos, are you insane?" Kat shimmered into view, her ghostly features tight, and her eyes wide with irritation.
"I've told you," she continued. "You can't boss Lexi around. She's like a badger. The more you attack, the more she'll burrow deep then come out and rip your head off."
The ghost drifted in agitated circles. "And I can't believe you---" Her strident tone abruptly cut off. Her eyes widened further. She stared at a place over his shoulder.
Obviously, she'd noticed he had a visitor. Even more obvious by the tight lips and flared nostrils, she knew his visitor.
Mikos hadn't thought a ghost could become any paler, but Kat, had lost all color, her form becoming a mere wisp of mist.
"Asher," she breathed out the single word.
"Kitty."
Well, now, this is fascinating. Mikos eyed his former brother-in-arms. Pain and loss deepened the lines on his face and glinted briefly in the jet-black eyes before they turned hard, flat and passionless. As if they'd turned to coal.
He lifted an eyebrow. Both Ash and Kat's stricken faces pointed to a past relationship. The fact she was a ghost didn't bode well to the nature, or outcome, of that relationship.
Kat couldn't stop staring at Ash. She opened her mouth but choked on the words and couldn't manage anything more than an exhale of air. Rather, she made the human motion, nothing was actually expelled. Ghosts didn't require oxygen to breathe. They didn't breathe.
Still she felt something. Seeing Ash after all these years left her reeling, looking for firm footing while sand shifted under her feet. No, not garden-variety sand. More like quicksand, sucking at her legs, trying to drag her down.
She hadn't thought ghosts could feel much in the way of emotions. Obviously she was wrong. Right now, a tangle of feelings from desire to fear to rage filled every molecule. Bile rose into her throat, more a memory than an actual sensation.
Ghosts didn't eat so they didn't have stomach acid which meant they couldn't feel the acidic burn of food rising upward until it reached the back of her throat.
No, ghosts didn't feel anything. But she did.
Ash's appearance hadn't changed. He still had the sinful attractiveness that gave new meaning to the words. Sinful being the key word. Dark hair as black as the darkest hell that birthed him framed piercing midnight eyes that seemed to absorb light.
Her fingers ached to caress the fine lines that still lingered in the corners of his eyes. Lines that crinkled when he smiled. Not that he was smiling. If she had to define the expression on his face, it would be sorrow.
But, demons didn't feel sorrow. To feel pain, they had to have a heart. She had firsthand experience Ash didn't possess one.
He'd told her that right before he showed her.
When he killed her.
Something tender moved across his features. In the next instant, his face flattened, becoming a mask. She tore her gaze from the evil-hearted demon and glared at Mikos. The Fallen's dark visage held speculation, yet he didn't say anything. He merely lifted an eyebrow.
"I didn't know you knew Asher," she said, thankful her voice didn't crack from the strain of her disquiet. Ash actually stood within four feet of her. She was lucky she didn't dissolve into a pile of ectoplasm goop.
"My brother."
Her hand covered her mouth, holding back the gasp. "Your brother?"
Kat felt her spectral form, already insubstantial, start to unravel. With an effort, she literally pulled herself together.
"I don't believe this." Her southern accent thickened. "If I had known about Ash, I would have never convinced Lexi to return. Damn you, Mikos, you lied to me."
He held up a protesting hand. "Kat, I didn't lie to you. You never asked for my history."
"Excuse me." Ash's coolly impersonal voice broke into Mikos's explanation. "If I might interrupt? I don't have a lot of time. Can you two continue this conversation later?"
Ash's smooth, frosty tone spun Kat's fear for Lexi into rage. She whirled to face the demon. He rested his hip on the large desk, his hands braced on the wooden surface. The open collar of his white shirt teased her with flashes of tan skin. Damn it, she didn't want to feel anything for Ash. Not even emotions that shouldn't exist.
How dare he stand there looking as if he had not an ounce of guilt over her death? She'd once, foolishly, believed she meant something to him. If she still had a heart, it would have shattered again. An upside to being a ghost. She couldn't feel something she no longer had.
Right?
Sucking in a deep breath, again not that she actually needed to breathe, yet the human action soothed her, Kat scowled at Ash, then turned to include Mikos.
"I don't care what you two are or how powerful you are, if you hurt Lexi, I'll find some way to make you pay."
This time, Kat let her form dissolve. Just before she faded from sight, she met Ash's eyes one last time. The obsidian depths held anguish, a brief flicker that left Kat wondering if she'd really seen it or imagined he hurt as much as she did.
After Kat left, Mikos waited, studying Ash's face. Naked emotion etched deep lines into the Slayer's skin and whitened the corners of his tightly pressed lips.
Very interesting.
Despite whatever had happened to leave Kat dead, Ash had felt something for the fiery blonde with the Southern charm. Not that she'd shown much of that recently. Mikos couldn't blame her. If Ash had anything to do with Kat's death, then seeing him must rip at the ghost's fragile psyche.
What exactly had gone on between Kat and Ash? Worse, had the demon known and interacted with Lexi? If so, why was she still alive?
For the first time in over a century, Mikos let himself believe there was hope for Ash. The Slayer roused himself, shaking off whatever emotions had held him in their sharp teeth.
"What do you intend to do about Rahab?" he asked when Mikos said nothing.
"Why would I tell you my plans?" Mikos tilted his head. "So you can go back to Morningstar and betray me? The humans have a saying, 'Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.' Translation--go to Hell."
"Been there." Ash shook his head. "Mikos, I have no intention of providing information to either Morningstar or Beliel."
"Then you are a fool."
An enigmatic expression crossed Ash's face, and his lips twisted into a wry grin. "Maybe, but not about this. I harbor you no ill will, brother."
Mikos laughed, the tone sounding sharp and bitter even to him. Ash seemed to flinch. "You harbor me no ill will? Generous of you. Pity I can't say the same."
Ash met Mikos's gaze, his own penetrating. Mikos didn't know what his former brother-in-arms saw, whatever it was seemed to satisfy one of the most powerful demons in Hell.
"Whether or not you forgive me makes no difference in the information I provided. Watch your back, brother. Malphas isn't the only bastard looking for a piece of you. There will be more."
In a move more dramatic than when he'd arrived, Ash disappeared, leaving behind a slight tinge of sulfur.
Mikos sighed and sank back onto the couch. Christ's wounds. It seemed he'd landed himself right in the middle of a battle more complicated than keeping Beliel from finding Solomon's Key.
Making enemies in the legions of Hell was not unexpected. To their way of thinking, he'd turned his back on his brethren. In retrospect, he had. They thought him a coward, a fool.
They were right.
Not about him leaving but about him joining Lucifer in the beginning. He'd let lust and pride overcome his senses until he could think of nothing more than burying himself deep into a mortal woman.
Which was why he could not let his lust for Lexi overcome his will. All these years, not one mortal woman had caused him to lose his control over his body. Until her.
When...if Lexi returned, he must keep his own emotions under tight control. Not only did the future of the human race depend upon his strength, his soul did.
Mikos's wards chimed again. This time, they warned him of a familiar approach. Alert, but affecting a posture of unconcern, he pushed deeper into the chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest while he waited for her approach.
The library door pushed open, the swing nearly striking the opposite wall. The woman entering had a job to do. A job she didn't want. His was to convince her of the importance of what she did. Or didn't do.
And give her the faith to do it.
How does one go about renewing someone else's faith when theirs was at stake?
Lexi eyed the dark angel. He didn't appear surprised to see her. Irrationally, that pissed her off. She didn't like the idea he might know her better than she knew herself. For Pete's sake, she'd only known him two days.
"Let's get something straight."
She stalked toward him, her strides determined. He may have known she'd return, but that didn't mean he could dictate her actions. "You don't get to tell me what to do," she continued.
"Welcome back, Defender." Mikos stood. "Once you are settled, we can begin your training."
"Are you listening to me?"
"I heard you."
"That's not the same as listening to me, and you know it."
He sighed. "I am aware of the differences. I simply chose to ignore your statement."
A deep desire to slug Mikos had her clenching her fingers into fists. Only her backpack and sanjiegun stopped her. She'd have to drop both items in order to belt him.
He ran fingers through his dark hair. Lexi curled her fingers deeper into her palms.
"It is my job to train you. I cannot do that if you will not listen."
He had a point. If she was going to do this, Mikos would need to instruct her. Fighting him on every point would only slow things down. The sooner he discovered she was not what he thought she was, the sooner she could return to her life.
She gritted her teeth, speaking through clenched lips. "Fine. In matters of my training, I'll take your orders."
Mikos snorted. Lexi stared at him for a minute. He'd snorted? Angels snorted? That was just so wrong. He tilted his head. She read his expression as if he'd shouted.
As she realized the reason for his snort, her lips twisted into a slight grin. "Right. At least I'll take them under serious consideration." She lifted a hand in case he felt a need to interrupt. "As long as your orders are logical and my instincts don't tell me to ignore them, I'll listen."
"Can I have that in writing?"
"Don't be a smartass, Mikos. It doesn't become you."
She couldn't stop the inward smile even though she was careful not to let him see her amusement. That'd be great. Let the arrogant angel see she found him entertaining. A thought occurred to her. "You know, you act nothing like an angel."
Mikos angled his head, his brow furrowed. "Oh? What does an angel act like?"
"Kind, good, gentle and very supportive."
He snorted again. Freaky. "I am very supportive," he said.
Interesting. He completely ignored the kind, good and gentle part. "Sure you are."
A shrug. "I'm an unusual angel."
"You'll have to tell me about that someday."
His eyes flattened, the amused expression fleeing the ice gray depths. "Someday, I might."
Uh, oh. What did that mean? For a moment, she considered pushing him on his cryptic response then decided she didn't care enough to know. Right now, her mind wouldn't stretch to learn more secrets.
"Okay, so what's the plan?"
"The plan is to get you rested and start training tomorrow." He eyed her battered backpack. "This is all you require?"
Her turn to shrug. "I don't need much. Why?"
"I would have thought you'd like more of your things around you."
"I have everything I need. Besides, it's not like I'll be here long."
Sure, she was fishing for information. She'd made a promise to stay for training. She hadn't made one to stay forever.
No response. He just kept his gaze on her, a spark of some indefinable emotion glowing behind the mask of unconcern.
Amusement? Anger? Uh, maybe horny? God help her.
Just when the silence began to grate on her already unsettled nerves, he spoke. "Very well. I'll show you where you'll stay. Rest. We'll start at sunrise."
"Whoa, sunrise? What is that? Six a.m.? Maybe you don't need to sleep, but I need more than---" she paused and looked at her watch, "---five hours of sleep if you want me to function tomorrow."
Mikos frowned then nodded. "Nine o'clock?"
"Terrific." She swept out an arm, gesturing for him to precede her. "Lead on."
Later that night, Lexi stared up at the ceiling. Moonlight danced, casting the room into cool shadows of flickering, waving light. A slight breeze gently shook the branches of the large maples outside her window, a comforting rustle of leaves that determinedly hung on when their compatriots had already fallen to the ground.
Left alone in the strange room to sleep in a strange bed. A whirlwind of thoughts plagued her mind. No matter how much she tried to relax, she couldn't. Her mind refused to shut down.
Not only that, it was too damn quiet. Mikos didn't live in any of the seedier sections of Chicago. His home sat on the edge of one of the more affluent areas in suburban Chicago. Despite its affluence, Lexi expected some noise. Cars passing, dogs barking, cats fighting. The usual. Instead, nothing.
She sighed. At the same time her breath puffed out, her stomach groaned. Then groaned again. More insistent. When was the last time she'd eaten? A day? Two days? She couldn't even recall what she'd last eaten much less when.
Another rippling gurgle. Now that she'd settled down, her body obviously planned to force her to pay attention to its needs. She was flat out starving.
Flipping back the quilt, Lexi swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Angel or not, there had to be a kitchen. Surely he had to eat.
Padding across the wooden floor, she cracked open the door and peered out. Nothing moved in the darkness of the hallway. A faint glow from the bathroom gave her a modicum of visibility. Enough so she wouldn't fall on her ass tripping over some unseen object.
Down the stairs, she made a turn to the left. Stainless steel and crisp cleanliness greeted her when she pushed open the door. The kitchen. She didn't flip on the lights. It wasn't necessary. The moon's clean light gave her enough light to find her way across the linoleum to the refrigerator.
She felt her eyes widen. A cornucopia of food filled the bright interior. Stuff for salad, sandwiches and other assorted goodies tickled her senses. Her stomach agreed, the rumbling deeper and more urgent.
Grabbing at the sandwich fixings, she put together a Dagwood-size meal. If she was going to train tomorrow, she needed the fuel.
A far off, yet clear, meaty-sounding thud interrupted her enjoyment of her meal. She lifted her head, the sandwich halfway to her mouth. In the stillness, the noise seemed to echo. To her mind, not such a bad thing. At least something broke the thick silence.
Popping the last bite into her mouth, she brushed off the crumbs and stood. Still not sleepy. So, she'd see what's up. She whirled around and snatched a big handled butcher knife from the block on the counter. Curious. Not stupid.
Even in an angel's home, she didn't trust there would be no danger. And, she didn't trust in anyone except herself so having a weapon made sense.
The noise seemed to come from the large ballroom-type room where she'd confronted Mikos. When he'd set her on her ass. Figuratively. The first time anyone had done that in a long time. Of course, she got her own back. Even if his backside hadn't dusted the floor, she'd had the satisfaction of seeing him off balance.
Although, if she thought about the scuffle hard enough, she'd have to question as to who actually won. After all, he'd managed to make her feel both terror and lust at the same time.
She neared the double doors and halted. Yep, the thud and thwap sounds came from behind the heavy wooden barrier. Nothing else vocalized led her to believe someone was being attacked, but that didn't stop her from hammer gripping the knife handle.
She turned the knob and pushed. On silent hinges, the door swung open. Sliding along the threshold and into the room, she froze when she looked at the tableau laid out before her.
Mikos, wearing nothing more than a worn pair of cut-off jeans grappled with a slender, redheaded woman. Equal to his height if not his build, the woman's crimson hair swung over her shoulder in a tight braid.
Neither one indicated they'd heard or seen her arrival. Despite the distraction of Mikos's nearly naked temptation, Lexi focused on the woman. Clad entirely in unrelieved black, the redhead matched him move for move.
Lexi studied their movements, wondering why they seemed familiar. Then it struck her. KM or Krav Maga. He and the woman sparred using KM attacks and defenses.
A hybrid of karate, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, boxing, and street survival tactics, KM was commonly used by Israeli Special Forces.
People who lived on the streets as she had didn't receive formal training on how to fight. They found out the hard way. And if lucky, only ended up with bruises and broken bones.
If not, they ended up dead.
Krav Maga stressed fighting under worst-case conditions and assumed a no quarter situation. Meaning, even when sparring, combatants could, and frequently did, get hurt. The goal is to inflict the most pain possible in the shortest time.
What made the sparring between Mikos and the woman fascinating was the total lack of any kind of body protection. No pads or headgear. The strikes were hard, fast and potentially lethal. Neither the angel nor woman appeared to be landing any hits, yet, to spar without protection meant these two had to be masters.
Or stupid.
Mikos may be an arrogant ass but he didn't strike her as the stupid type.
Without any flicker of warning, the redhead spun around. Lowering into a crouch, the woman bared her teeth in a loud hiss.
Shit! Lexi stumbled back, feeling her eyes widen. The woman had fangs. Freaking fangs. Like a vampire. Even her eyes glowed red.
As if she were an observer instead of a participant, Lexi watched Mikos freeze, his expression shocked at the woman's reaction. At the same time the woman hissed again, Mikos turned his head.
His gray gaze grabbed Lexi's and in what must be a mirror image of her own, widened.
She flipped the butcher knife around and went into a modified crouch of her own. If the vampy woman was going to attack, Lexi didn't intend to stand still and beg for it.
The redhead tensed and sprang.
"Marisol! No!"
Mikos's command rang out, sharp and echoing in the vast chamber. In mid-air, the woman twisted and landed about five feet from where Lexi stood. Holy crap! Nothing natural could move like that.
"A human in your home?" While she spoke, the redhead kept her eerie red gaze on Lexi.
The woman's accent was thick. Made sense, coming from behind those fangs. Did she forget to mention that? The freaking fangs?
"Mari, I'd like you to meet Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison, or Lexi as she prefers. The new Defender."
Lexi heard the clipped tone behind the low and smooth voice. Not fear. Concern. For Lexi? Or for Marisol?
"The Defender?"
Marisol's stance, while it didn't relax, at least shifted so Lexi didn't get the impression the woman was a hairbreadth away from lunging again.
The woman looked over her shoulder at Mikos. "You did not mention you found the Defender. Or that she was staying with you."
"You hardly gave me a chance to speak before you attacked, Mari."
Now that the immediate danger had appeared to pass, Mikos's voice came out sounding less taut. Less grating. With an affectionate edge to the words.
Her jaw clenched. Glad someone could relax. She kept a tight grip on the knife handle.
A smile stretched the woman's lips, her fangs no longer visible. Lexi still couldn't wrap her mind around the whole fangs bit. Time for her to say something.
"Excuse me, but the Defender would like to know what the hell is going on and who this is?"
Both fixed their gazes on her. For a brief moment, she felt like squirming under their intense looks. That pissed her off. She straightened and lifted her chin.
"My apologies, Lexi." Mikos gestured at the redhead. "This is Marisol Asheni. A friend and occasional sparring partner." He paused, bent his head at the woman, and then continued, "Who usually gives me more warning before she attacks."
Amusement lit the gray depths, not the silver she associated with anger or battle, but a soft glow that softened the lines on his face. So, not just friends, then. Something more? A past relationship? A past love?
At the flip-flop of her stomach, Lexi frowned inwardly. Why should the thought of them as lovers bother her?
Snap out of it, Lexi. You don't care. Just do the training, find Devyn and go back to your life. Just because Mikos's happy face quickened her pulse, didn't mean a damn thing.
Marisol bent in a half bow. "My apologies as well. I would not have attacked had Mikos told me he'd found you."
"What are you? A vampire?" Lexi blurted out the questions. She couldn't help herself.
Mikos frowned slightly. The vampy woman tossed her head, the braid swinging across the other shoulder. Her laugh echoed in the cavernous room, peals of laughter skipping on the air.
"No, not a vampire." Marisol cocked her head. "You do know there are no such things as vampires, right?"
Lexi scowled. "Uh huh, sure, and there are no such things as angels or demons."
"Ah, sarcasm," Marisol quipped. "I'm very aware of that mortal trait."
"I'm happy for you. Now, who, er, what are you?"
"Lexi." Mikos's voice came from her side, a warning in his voice. A warning for what? Of what?
Marisol flashed her eyes to Mikos, who gave an imperceptible nod. She faced Lexi. "A fallen angel. Now."
"A fallen angel? What does that mean?" She wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't this mean you are really a demon?"
Marisol shrugged. Her gaze flicked back to Mikos.
"I will tell you the tale later," he replied to Lexi, his tone leaving no opportunity for questions. "Mari, if you don't mind..."
The fallen angel nodded then locked gazes with Lexi. Something passed between them. An acknowledgement? A warning? She wasn't sure. One thing she was sure of. She and Marisol were going to be great friends. Or terrible enemies.
"History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon."
Napoleon Bonaparte
Snuggled deep into a cozy armchair and covered by a soft wool throw, Lexi flipped through the oversize book. Wood crackled in the fireplace casting the room in amber light. She was supposed to be reading but instead, she focused on the pictures. Mikos said a Watcher, or Grigori, had written the book containing the history of the defenders. Her heritage.
She absently fingered the Nativitas. The smooth metal and ruby stone felt warm under her touch. Since it had done its job, Mikos said it was just plain metal and stone now. Sometimes, though, she thought it still seemed to have something left in it. Something powerful.
At the thought of Mikos, she sighed. According to the angel, time flew by on swift wings and in less than a week, she had to find the Key and wrest a large vase containing seventy-two spirits, uh, demons from Beliel to stop him from opening it with the Key. Supposing she could find the Key.
According to legend, God had given Solomon a book, the Key, in order to not only summon demons but to make them do whatever he wanted. In particular, to build his Temple. Once they'd done that, he decided he no longer needed them so locked them, again with the Key, into a large bronze jar.
This is where her ancestress, Sophronia, showed up. The same woman who took the Vessel and hid it in a location she didn't bother sharing with anyone, but her progeny. Except the bad guy had found that. This left the location of the Key with Lexi.
Who had no freaking idea where the thing was.
"Hey, girl, whatcha got there?"
Lexi started at the honey and cream tone. The book slipped from her fingers and slid across her lap heading for the floor. She lunged and grabbed the weighty tome before it hit the floor.
"Oops, sorry!" Kat giggled. "I didn't mean to surprise you."
"It's cool." Lexi grinned. Kat's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Can't think of anyone I'd rather be surprised by."
Kat glided over to the ottoman in front of Lexi's chair and perched on the edge. Her ghostly figure seemed more substantial today. As if she had better control of how solid she became. "So, what are you studying so intently?"
"My family's history."
Kat arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Is it good?"
"Well, it's fascinating, I'll admit to that."
"Fascinating in a good way or fascinating in a skeletons in the closet way?"
Lexi shrugged. "I don't know. If there are any, I haven't found them yet."
"So, what's the deal then?"
"You don't know?"
"No." Kat shook her head. Blonde curls bounced about her heart-shaped face. "Just that defenders existed and that you are one. And that defenders work in the background to protect the human race from demons and other things that go bump in the night. No particulars beyond that."
Lexi nodded. "Yeah, that's about it." She flipped the book shut with a dull thud. "What it doesn't tell me is where defenders come from. Sure, I get their purpose but not how they came to be."
An understatement. It seemed the story of their beginnings was the source of much debate and a few legends. So many different tales, including one that said the first defender was made at the time of Adam and Eve's banishment from the Garden of Eden. If so, how were they able to keep this secret for so long?
Kat tilted her head. "Does that make a difference?"
"Make a difference?" Lexi's brows drew together. "Make a different to what specifically?"
"Whether or not you believe and whether or not you intend to help Mikos find the Key?"
Lexi transferred her gaze from her friend to the fireplace. Sap exploded within the wood, letting out several crackling pops. Sparks spit and flashed into flames that danced merrily. Her friend had asked a good question.
Did she believe? Not just in her destiny but that she has the key to saving the world. Jesus, did that seem as cockamamie as it sounded?
A part of her had always figured the world, life in general, had much more depth than humans knew. She hadn't necessarily believed in ghosts or spirits, yet she couldn't deny a lot of strange things had happened to her as a child. Nothing physical; until recently she hadn't seen things. More of a sense of being watched.
Fingers snapped in front of her face. "Hellloooo, Lex, you still here?"
Lexi felt her eyes cross. She grabbed at the clicking fingers before she thought about Kat's warning. "Cut it out."
Kat let out a sharp squeal and disappeared. A few paces away she reappeared, her foot tapping. "Damn it, Lexi, I told you not to touch me."
"Oh, sorry," Lexi apologized. "But you know how much I hate when you do that."
She sighed and shifted deeper under the throw. Three freaking days in Mikos's home with nothing to show for it. Worse, she was now two days past Beliel's deadline. The demon was probably seriously pissed since he couldn't enter Mikos's home.
Or maybe he'd taken her acquiescence to the training that she'd refused his offer. A coward's approach, maybe, but being locked inside Mikos's wards let her delay her decision. A decision she hadn't actually made.
Kat sat down again. She met Lexi's eyes. "What's wrong?"
"You mean besides I'm talking to my dead best friend, Mikos is an angel, I'm being hounded by a demon and I'm supposed to find a book before said demon finds it or he'll destroy the world? What else could be wrong?"
The bright emerald gaze dimmed a bit. Kat's hand reached out as if she wanted to offer comfort. Her fingers hovered over Lexi's wrist but didn't descend. Kat looked at her hand, and pulled her mouth into a thin line. In the next second, she glanced up and offered Lexi a weak smile. "Yeah, besides that."
"Mikos thinks the memory of the Key's location is buried in my psyche. He thinks all I need to do is concentrate and poof, I'll know where to find it. Big plan. Not working."
And she still hadn't done anything to find Devyn. That bothered her so much she'd decided to do something about it.
Today.
But she wasn't about to tell Kat that. She had a feeling her friend wouldn't understand and would try to stop her.
Later, Lexi still slumped in the wing chair with no idea how she was going to leave the house. She'd been sitting in the same place since Kat left. After giving her a pep talk that was all pep and little substance, not that she blamed her friend, Kat claimed she had somewhere else to be.
There had to be a way she could leave. While she hadn't seen Mikos that morning, she suspected he was around.
"Or he has some kind of early warning alarm that would let him know I left," she muttered.
Without warning, a small gray figure popped into view in front of her. "Hi ya, doll!"
An involuntary squeak escaped her. Lexi meet alarm.
"Damn it, Rocky," she snarled. "Stop popping in and out like a freaking jumping bean."
Rocky, aka the Rock, aka shapeshifter, aka pain-in-the-ass, came to rest on the chair's arm. He put his hands on his hips and smiled, a cocky twist to his lips and unrepentant expression in his silver eyes.
"Sorry," he apologized, sounding anything but.
The little prick.
"Where have you been?"
Rocky flopped down, exhaling a weary sigh. "On an errand for Michael. I'm tired." He cocked his head. "Got anything to eat?"
Lexi patted the blanket and snorted. "Sorry, I don't seem to have any stones to share."
The grating sound emanating from Rocky surprised her. What the hell was that? She peered at the little figure. Was he laughing?
"That's good, doll. Stones," he snickered. "You slay me."
"I might."
Another grating sound.
"By the way," she continued. "What's with the doll comment? You a Cagney wannabe? Or a throwback from the twenties?"
"You don't think I sound authentic?"
Lexi wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, actually, you do. Not bad at all."
A broad grin stretched practically ear to ear. He jumped to his feet. "So, what's up? The Phoenix got you whipped into shape?"
Lexi scowled. "First, no one is whipping me into shape. Second, you keep calling Mikos the Phoenix. What is that? Some kind of affectionate nickname?"
A pained expression crossed the craggy face. "Uh, no, well, I mean sort of."
The words came to a stumbling halt. His feet scuffed the nap of the armrest. He exhibited all the classic signs of wishing he was someplace else.
Lexi tapped her foot and tilted her head. Showing her annoyance while seated in a plush chair and covered by a cozy throw should have been easy.
Somehow, she feared the effect was lost.
"Well?" she finally said when Rocky continued to twitch.
He sighed, then met her gaze. "The Phoenix is Mikos's angel name. Sure, like a nickname."
"I didn't realize angels had nicknames."
"Some do. The powerful ones."
Hmm. So Mikos was a powerful angel. An unsurprising revelation. "So, how powerful is he?"
"He's one of the top. In fact, if he had stayed, he might have been only second to Michael."
"Michael?" Not the first time she'd heard that name. "As in Archangel Michael?"
"Yeah, him."
A thought occurred to her. "What did you mean when you said if Mikos had stayed? Stayed where?"
"Well, you see---" he began.
"Rocky." Threaded with a silken vein of warning, the voice cut into Rocky's explanation. She knew that voice.
Mikos stood in the doorway, his icy gaze on the shapeshifter. He wore a charcoal duster over dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Inky hair looked tousled, as if he'd recently been in high wind. A folded newspaper peeked out from under his right arm.
His austere appearance reminded her of Neo in The Matrix. Yum. Solid strength and power fairly screamed from Mikos's pores. Lexi looked away before she met his eyes.
She so didn't want a repeat of the effect he seemed to have on her. Bad enough she couldn't seem to stop her libido. She didn't need his encouragement.
Rocky bent his head. "Sorry, boss," he mumbled.
"When you have eaten, I expect a report."
"Sure, sure, no problem." Without looking at Lexi or Mikos, Rocky blinked from view.
Well. Talk about someone being peeved about secrets. "What's with the gloomy-gus appearance?" Lexi said, gesturing to Mikos's attire. She met his eyes now that she had a hold on her emotions.
Right. Sure she did. Anybody want to sell her the Golden Gate Bridge?
Mikos turned and faced her. "Go change and meet me in the training room."
Arrogant jerk. He didn't wait for a response, just spun around and strode back out the door. Obviously he expected her to listen. Lexi grimaced.
Pushing aside the throw, she stood. Okay, fine. She'd do as he said. Not because he ordered her, but because she was tired of sitting on her ass. Physical exertion sounded like a good idea.
Thirty-minutes and fifteen seconds later, physical exertion sounded less like a good idea and more like torture. Lexi bent over, both hands on her thighs. Her chest heaved. Sweat, not the, er, delicate feminine kind, trickled down her temples and pooled in the valley of her breasts.
She straightened and wiped the moisture from her face. The bastard, she thought, fixing a baleful look at her tormentor.
In a short time, she'd learned more about defensive fighting than she'd ever thought she'd wanted to learn. When Mikos wasn't kicking her ass, he kept up a near constant litany of how past defenders had saved the world. All he succeeded in doing was pissing her off. As if it made a difference what her supposed ancestors had done.
As much as these lessons in faith annoyed her, the constant hammering disrupted the joy she usually felt in sparring. The angel apparently had a stick up his ass since he came at her hard and fast.
During the last couple of days she'd held her ground, giving as good as she got. Mostly. Now it was apparent that Mikos ground her belief in her own abilities into the mats at his feet. Sure, she was good.
He was much, much better.
Lexi could already imagine the lovely blue and purple bruises she'd be sporting on her arms and legs.
Grudgingly, and only to herself, she admitted his behavior today increased her defensive ability. Still didn't mean she enjoyed acting as a punching bag for a raging angel.
He lunged, aiming a rear punch at her jaw. Taken nearly off guard by his lightning fast movement, Lexi had just enough time to center her stance. As his fist neared, she thrust out her right arm, deflecting his arm downward.
At the same time, she pivoted on her left foot toward him, using the force of the pivot and deflecting arm to counterstrike.
Which never landed.
He twisted and broke free, flipping over backward and landing in a half-crouch.
That's it. Grinding her teeth until she felt a twinge in her jaw, she launched her own offensive. Ignoring her various aching muscles, she shuffled forward with her rear foot. Her body shifted forward, snapping a front-leg straight kick at Mikos.
Which didn't land either. Damn it!
He grabbed her kicking leg at the calf. Shit, she'd let anger rule her mind. Both froze. Lexi knew she could have attempted escape by closing the distance and wresting free. Didn't matter. The important part was she'd allowed emotion to put her here.
Balancing on one leg, she glared at Mikos. Her gaze clashed with his. She fancied she could almost see sparks shooting from the pewter eyes. She was sure her amber ones matched his fury.
"What the hell is your problem?" she ground out the words between clenched teeth. She was tired, grumpy and muscles she didn't know she had screamed. The last thing she felt like dealing with was a pissed off angel.
He released her leg. Lexi danced back, wanting some serious distance between her and the obviously disturbed man.
His face wiped of all expression, Mikos tilted his head. "My problem?"
"Don't act stupid. I've been working with you for enough hours to know you are doing more than training. You are trying to beat the shit out of me. What gives?"
He held her glare for a moment, or two, then ran a hand through his dark locks. "Where is the Key?"
Lexi shot him a withering glance. "Are we back to this?" She strode over to the side table and snatched a towel, wiping the moisture from her temples and forehead. "Nothing's changed, Mikos. I don't know where it is."
A slight flare of guilt reared its head. Had she even tried?
He joined her at the table, standing close enough she could see faint silver dancing in his pupils. And the trickle of liquid trailing a path from the hollow of his neck, down into the vee of the T-shirt beckoned for a taste. If she concentrated, she could almost taste the sweetly salty liquid.
Lexi sucked in a silent breath. For Pete's sake. Her freaking libido was overreacting again. Of course, the fact her libido did anything at all was a source of concern. And aggravation.
As if he could read her wayward thoughts, Mikos's jaw tensed and the corner of his lips twitched. Was he going to do his woo-woo thing? Or had he done it already, which accounted for her raging hormones? Freaking hormones that shouldn't be doing anything, raging or otherwise.
He walked toward her and tossed the newspaper onto the table in front of her. "Page three."
Lexi tilted her head, confusion warring with curiosity. So, secrets didn't make him angry. It was whatever was in the newspaper. She studied his expression. Or, was that something else besides anger? Concern?
Fear?
She bent her head to the newspaper and flipped to page three. Shouting out its message in a full-page spread complete with pictures, an article titled King Solomon cavorted with Demons danced across the space. Dead center was two pictures.
The first was of a round jar sitting on a fan-shaped base. The photograph had a grainy appearance, like it wasn't actually taken, but more as if was scanned from an old picture. Ornate handles, covered with curlicues, jutted from each side. She could barely make out the sigils covering the jar. The article named it the carcera spiritus, a prison for spirits. Demons.
Oh boy.
The article made further, vague references to the Temple of Jerusalem having been built by demons, King Solomon's supposed ability to perform magic, including allusions to a grimoire called Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis, the Lesser Key of Solomon, which contained the incantations and invocations used to summon and control the demons.
A niggling tickle of memory eased its way to her mind. She'd heard of the Lesser Key. Divided into five parts, the grimoire, or book on magic, essentially acted as a manual to invoke and oblige demons to do the will of the conjurer.
She'd flipped through a copy once. The memory of the uncomfortable, someone-walking-on-your-grave shivery feeling, at the listing of demons' descriptions, their seals and details on how to prevent the spirits from gaining control over the conjurer still had the power to evoke that feeling.
Pulling her gaze from the jar, Lexi focused on the second picture. A ruggedly handsome man with sandy brown hair and green eyes stared back at her.
No, the picture was not in color. Yet, she knew the color of his hair and eyes because she knew the man. Or, at least had met him once. The caption below the picture gave the same name he'd given her. At least he hadn't been lying about that.
She ignored the second picture and looked up at Mikos. "King Solomon? What's the big deal?"
"Do you know this man?" His finger jabbed at the man.
For a moment, she thought denial sounded like the way to go, but then decided against it. "Yeah." A hitch of shoulders. "I met him once."
She glanced down at the picture again. McKay's handsome face didn't make her insides stand up and take notice the way Mikos's hard lines and darkness did.
"When?" His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality.
She raised her eyes to find him watching her. "The night I died."
Despite being pleased with the serene tone of her voice, the knife-like pain cut deep. No matter how much she worked to keep that fact deep in her psyche, it couldn't be denied. She had died and been brought back.
"So, I met him. What's the problem?"
"He's looking for you."
Lexi felt her mouth drop open. Mikos laid a finger on the spot and right there, in black and white, was her full name. Not Lexi Harrison, but her full, long ass name for all of Chicago to see. How the fuck had they found that?
She could feel Mikos's sharp gaze boring into her as she scanned the article. Jackson McKay offered a reward to anyone who could lead him to the location of one Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison, formerly of blah, blah, blah. Her whole life spelled out in stark black against brilliant white.
The amount of the reward left her reeling. One million dollars.
One. Freaking. Million. Dollars.
For her.
For that much money, she'd turn herself in.
Another fact leaped out, slapping her in the face. The bastard had listed the University and the location of Blush. She couldn't ever go back there. Not unless she wanted to be the target of every fortune-hunting asshole.
A gut wrenching sensation of anger mixed with fear twisted her insides. She stared at the opposite wall, not really seeing the washed-out, beige surface. Instead, she saw an empty expanse, devoid of purpose. Under the mercy of someone else to make it complete.
Much like she felt at this moment.
What the hell was she supposed to do now? This little hiatus with Mikos was really all it was. She'd had every intention of returning to school and returning to work, yet, in a few printed lines, those options were gone.
All because of a supposed destiny she didn't believe in. Where was her mind? The hope of something better? Something she could believe in?
Yeah, she'd made a promise to try. Big deal. It'd been made under false pretences and hopes. That meant she didn't have to abide by it. Right? That feeling should have bolstered her resolve, but for some reason it only left her feeling hollow.
She lifted her gaze from the damning words and met the angel's dark eyes, aware her expression must be as dull as she felt. Behind his glittering gaze, a note of empathy dwelled. Or pity? She didn't care to see either.
"I can't go back to my old life, can I?"
"No."
One word. That's all it took for her world to collapse. All her hopes, dreams and desires falling into a puddle of dirt to be swept away like so much other trash.
He held her gaze for a moment or two. He rubbed a hand across his chin. "Lexi, I am sorry."
"You're sorry?" A weak laugh escaped. "For what, Mikos? For ruining my life? Is that your fault or mine? Maybe mine. I'm not a woman to be pushed around and let others have control and yet, I allowed that from the moment I met you.
"So, sure I can blame you," she paused. "Well, I actually, I do blame you, but not as much as I blame myself for being so weak-willed as to let these things happen."
"I'd expected you to regain your knowledge by now."
Whoa. She didn't know what kind of response she expected him to make. At least an argument or denial. Not an off the wall type comment. "Regain my knowledge? That's supposing I had it in the first place, right? What are you talking about?"
Mikos sighed. "The location of the Key. The things your parents should have passed on to you. We have less than a week to find it."
"How's that my problem? I told you I wasn't who you wanted."
His turn to scowl at her. "You are. Even after everything you've seen, you still insist on denying your heritage? Your faith?"
"Damn it, Mikos, don't make this out my problem. I never lied to you about how I felt."
"Indeed. Yet, you lie to yourself." A frown set into his features. "Worse, you betray your father's memory by your deceptions."
"What?" Lexi blinked rapidly. Lies? Deceptions? Had Mikos lost it? "My father?"
Mikos scowled again. "Your father was a defender. He knew the importance of the Vessel and the Key."
Her turn to scowl. "I was five when my father died. If he told me anything, I don't remember."
At the same moment the words left her lips, a wayward memory rose. Her father had whispered something into her ear the day he left. A phrase? A warning? Her five-year old mind hadn't understood the words then, then promptly forgot he'd even spoken, beyond a promise to bring her something back.
When her parents never returned, everything disappeared in that one instance. Between the telling and the hurried rush by the babysitter to offload a precocious child, right into the not-so-welcoming arms of the State. Of course, she couldn't remember. No matter that the words hung on the boundary of her consciousness, looking for a way in.
"Lexi." Lost in her dark thoughts, she hadn't heard Mikos speak. She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Do you have a memory?"
She opened her mouth to reply then snapped it shut. "I have lots of memories, Mikos, most of them bad. None where my father gave me any information about the Key and its location." She shrugged. "Sorry, can't help you."
Shit, she sounded like a broken record.
Unwilling to see the look of disappointment in his eyes, Lexi dropped her gaze to the article. "So, what do we do about this?" She gestured, her finger unerringly pointing right at the reward. Talk about a Freudian slip.
"Do?"
"Yeah, do. McKay's after the same thing you are, right? Any chance he can find it before you?"
"Not without your help."
"My help?" She choked out a laugh. "If I can't help you then I certainly can't help him."
Mikos tilted his head. "The reward is a significant amount of money. Enough for you to quit dancing. Do what you want. Live the kind of life you've dreamed."
Lexi squirmed. Did he know her thoughts? "How do you know what life I've dreamed of?" She laughed again, the sound brittle even to her own ears. "I don't even know what kind of life I want."
A tiny voice scoffed. Of course, she knew what she wanted. Even if she wouldn't admit it, the thoughts of family and a home were a niggling ache she couldn't get beyond. Pushed aside, forced deep, sure, but never forgotten. If she held it so close, how could Mikos have found out?
"Sure, the money would be a help, but why would I want to work with another crazy person. One is enough for me."
A dark eyebrow rose. Amusement flickered in the eyes that met hers. Had he actually ever smiled or laughed? She couldn't recall a single time when he had. What would a full on, belly shaking laugh do for him?
"Mikos, you are needed."
The musical voice, tinged with the hint of steel, broke into Lexi's musings. She spun. Marisol stood just inside the room, her expression cryptic, yet knowing at the same time. No fangs protruded from behind her lips.
Today the striking redhead wore emerald green from head to toe. It should have looked ridiculous. It didn't.
Damn it.
Marisol strode further into the room, keeping her gaze locked onto the Defender. From the amount of perspiration molding Mikos and Lexi's hair to their skin, it was obvious the two had been sparring pretty hard. And from the pinched look in both their eyes, something else besides sparring had gone on.
Mari didn't know what to think about the new Defender. Granted, she hadn't but met her once before now. But that wasn't it. She couldn't read Lexi.
Defender or not, Mari should have been able to gain some sort of access to Lexi's feelings. Her emotions. Mari found nothing when she probed. That'd had never happened before. It meant she would have to rely on her impressions.
A disconcerting thought.
"Something is amiss?" Mikos asked, pulling Mari's attention from Lexi.
Mari hesitated, her gaze flicking between the two. When he bent his head in an imperceptible nod, she continued. "An unprecedented massing of Beliel's minions. Michael would like us to convince them to return to Hell."
Mari couldn't help the grin that pulled back her lips. More than anything, she loved a good fight. When she and Mikos, after deciding to refute Lucifer, were recruited by Michael, she never had second thoughts about what she did. Her purpose.
Unlike Mikos, Mari knew she'd never be permitted to return to Heaven. And where Mikos felt an all pressing need to return to what used to be their home, she didn't. Even before Lucifer had decided to rebel, she'd been restless. Seeking something. Something she didn't find as a seraphim. And something she hadn't found as Lucifer's minion.
But now, fighting against the very legions she'd once been a part of made sense. Quite possibly a twisted sense, yet she was content.
For the most part.
"I must go," Mikos said.
Mari focused on her fellow Fallen. He'd turned a rueful eye on the Defender. Mari's heart stuttered at the contemplative look in his eyes. Fires of Hell, did he intend to take the untried woman with him?
"I will send for Rocky to return to keep you company."
Blessed Light. So much danger in bringing an innocent along. Even if the innocent was destined to be a defender. And especially if said Defender didn't believe.
Mikos had absolute faith in Lexi. In a way, Mari understood even if she didn't share the same convictions. Her dark brother had a quiet belief in the greater good. Even when he'd joined Lucifer's rebellion, it had been because Mikos had believed the Ruler of Hell's path was the right one.
A mistaken belief, to be sure, yet the strength of Mikos's conviction had shone like a beacon of hope even in the depths of Hell.
Mari often wondered what had happened to set Mikos on his current path. Much like her, he'd possessed a restless soul. Hers had led to rebellion. He'd walked a solitary path. Even more now since he was of neither Heaven nor Hell. Of the Fallen who had repented, he was the only one Lucifer wanted to see destroyed. Most likely because Mikos had been one of his generals, and most loyal.
He'd never told her why he turned his back on Hell. When she'd asked, when trying to decide her own way, he said she needed to make the decision on her own. An individual choice. She'd shrugged, comfortable with her path.
She focused back on the discussion between Mikos and Lexi.
"I must go," Mikos replied, his expression, while still seeming aggravated, shuttered. "Rocky will keep you company."
Lexi sat up straight. She'd wondered how she was going to get out of the house without Mikos knowing. Or coming. But, this thing with Rocky...
"Uh, huh. You mean babysitter," Lexi countered. If Mikos was out of the house she had plans of her own and they did not include being hounded by a miniature lothario. She could hardly go off on her own if the shapeshifter chaperoned her actions.
Mikos cocked his head, a brow raised. "I don't understand."
"I'm not a child, Mikos. I don't need someone to watch me."
"Rocky is not a babysitter," Mikos continued. "He is a companion. He will keep you company while I am away."
Lexi nodded and heaved an inward sigh. Obstinate angel. What more could she say? She'd just have to find a way to ditch the shapeshifter. Shouldn't be too hard. After all, she'd quickly discovered the little guy had a shallow attention span.
Smug approval glinted in his dark gaze. Thought he had her, didn't he? Figured her capitulation meant he could now direct her every action. She couldn't read his mind, yet she had a sneaky suspicion she knew what her easy agreement led him to believe. Worked for her.
"Rocky knows how to contact me if you require assistance. I will return as soon as is possible."
Then without further comment, Mikos looked at Mari, nodded and both simply blinked from existence. Lexi stood still, feeling the silence surrounding her as a sort of warm blanket. It suddenly occurred to her just how little she'd been by herself these last few days.
For a brief moment, she allowed her body to relax, letting the tension from the past days roil out to dissipate into the air.
"So, doll, what are we going to do?" Rocky's tone had a kid at Christmas inflection beneath the grating tenor.
"We aren't going to do anything. I'm going to take a shower then take a nap." Lexi slipped out from under the throw and stood.
"Sure and the shower sounds like fun, but a nap?"
"Yes, a nap. I was up late last night."
His gray expression took on an incredulous look. "You're serious aren't you?"
"Do I look serious?"
He snorted, an explosion of pebble-rattling sound and shook his head. "I never figured you for boring, doll."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
The little man held up his hand. "Whatever. If you aren't going to be any fun, I'm going to use Mikos's computer. At least the hot babes in the games know how to enjoy life." The deep pitch suggested he was aggrieved at her decision.
Lexi tried, almost unsuccessfully, to keep a grin from her face. She liked Rocky. Liked his irreverent attitude and cocky personality.
Her smile slipped a bit. She didn't like deceiving him but there was no way he'd let her out on her own if she told him what she planned to do. He'd only stop her or go running to Mikos.
"Have fun, stone head," Lexi said and quickly left the room. Before she could change her mind.
"It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare;
it is because we do not dare that they are difficult."
Seneca
His greatsword flashed, slicing deep into the sadoq's neck lopping it off with one pass. The demon screeched, a long, drawn-out wail of pain and anger. Even as the creature died, the double-set of thick arms flailed about looking for something to tear. Sulfur billowed out, filling Mikos's nostrils with the stench of rotten eggs, raw agony and death. The scent of Hell.
It seemed with each hell-spawn he destroyed two more took its place. Beside him, Marisol fought just as hard, even better. Lethal beauty in action.
And she seemed to enjoy herself whereas he didn't.
Another demon came at him, a catzacul this time. Fingernails extended into wicked claws, old flesh, likely human flesh dripped from the tips. The feline-like demon shrieked curses, spittle flying from its mouth with skin-searing acid in every drop. The catzacul's deadly claws scored a strike before Mikos took its head.
"Hells bells, Mikos! There are so many. Where are they all coming from?"
He didn't have an answer for her. He'd wondered the same thing. Even so, he and Mari were more than a match for the lesser castes. Yet it seemed as if Hell had spat out every lower level demon from its bowels. Almost like they were meant to die. Expendable.
When the last one lay in pieces at their feet, his greatsword dropped, the point resting in the gore. His back to Mari's, he surveyed the carnage. Not a Fallen or High Caste demon among them. Just the lesser ones.
"I don't understand," she said. "Why would Lucifer send so many to die?"
"Because they are worthless," the new arrival's voice purred over his skin.
Mikos clenched his teeth as lust crashed over him in wave after wave of pleasure. Like a punch to the stomach, his insides twisted. His cock hardened. Sweat beaded upon his upper lip, the salty wetness stinging his mouth.
"Well, well, isn't this a pretty picture after all?" Jahi, the Queen of Succubae, sauntered into view. "The traitorous bitch and the cowardly fool."
Beside him, Mari gasped and froze. He couldn't straighten to look at her. He turned his head. Wide-eyes, red as brightest red glared with deadly fury at Jahi. The struggle to move warred with her compulsion to obey.
Because Mari used to be a succubus, she'd been under the rule of the Queen and even though she'd renounced Hell and Lucifer, it wasn't that easy to get rid of Jahi.
Jahi bent down, the sunlight bright yellow of her hair cascading down over one shoulder. Mikos felt the soft, silken brush of the strands against his cheek. Like walking into a spider web. He groaned, his jaw locked with the effort to withstand her power.
Her mouth spread into a smile. White teeth flashed. "So, how did you like the party I threw for you two?" Long eyelashes fluttered over eyes as blue as a newborn baby's. "I certainly outdid myself."
Mikos shuddered, feeling the seductive pull of Jahi fading to a more manageable level. "Hell-bitch, what do you want?" he groaned, a low rumble of sound.
With a final burst of willpower, he straightened. She uncurled and stood tall before him. After she stood upright, he brought up his sword and pressed the point to her throat but did not slice the hard steel into her tender flesh.
Despite the urge that begged him to do so, Jahi was one of Lucifer's closest companions. His concubine and he would not appreciate it if Mikos killed her. And he didn't want to find out just how angry Lucifer would be. Even if she was apparently plotting with Beliel.
Jahi chuckled. She knew the accords as well as he did. "Oh pooh. I can't touch you, but you can't touch me either. Isn't that such a bitch? Whereas I---" she waved a hand at Mari, "---can do whatever I want with her."
Mari screamed and fell to her knees. Mikos pressed deeper. A bubble of red slid down the blade. "Stop," he snarled. "I can't kill you, but I can hurt you. Let her go."
Jahi tilted her head. Her movement sliced an inch long cut into her neck. "Fine." A wave of her hand again. With Mari's curses ringing in his ears, she disappeared in an explosion of displaced air.
"What did you do? If you've hurt her, I promise you---"
"Relax," she interrupted. "She's fine. But don't expect to see her for a few days. It will take her some time to get out of Vyfelin."
Christ's wounds. Vyfelin. Yes, Mari would indeed make it out of there relatively intact. And likely be twice as vicious as she normally was. Vyfelin, one of the lower levels of Hell, was populated with men who'd fallen to succubae. She would be hurt, angry but otherwise fine.
"Why are you here?"
Jahi shrugged. "For the same thing as you, I imagine. The Key."
"So, now you are Beliel's slave?"
She snarled. "I'm no one's slave." As if she regretted her flash of anger, she smiled and tossed her head. "He's paying me a lot for my assistance."
Mikos didn't even want to know what Beliel had offered much less what the evil bitch had requested. "He'll not find the Key."
"He doesn't have to. The Defender will bring it to him."
Mikos jerked his head back.
Jahi's smile stretched. "Ah, you are surprised. Good."
"The Defender won't give Beliel the Key."
"You'll see. Soon." Before the last vocal had left her mouth, she shimmered into a sparkling dust funnel and spun into the night.
Lucifer's balls! His stomach clenched. Not just a reaction to the release of her power over him. "By the Light, what did they plan to make Lexi give them the Key?"
Mikos was sure, whatever it was, would test Lexi's conviction. And faith.
About an hour later, Lexi stood in front of Blush. For the first time, worry crept into her mind. Was this a good idea? Being here without Mikos?
Being here in the first place?
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door before doubt became fear. She had to see if Devyn had returned. No matter that the twist in her stomach left Lexi feeling this was a futile hope, she still had to find out. After Mikos continually came up with excuses as to why she couldn't go, she'd had to wait.
At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed since she'd left. Same bar, same scarred and pitted tables. Same lost souls dotted about the place, watching the dancers who moved as lethargically as the men who watched. A Sunday night sure didn't pack the club.
Staying in the deeper shadows, Lexi scanned the inside. The current performer, known as Hot Lips, had a blank look on her face, as if she just went through the motions, yet her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Hot Lips' music pounded a dull throb through Lexi's body, her nerve endings jumping in response. She took a couple of deep breaths. Get it together, Lex. Not the time or place to succumb to an attack of the jitters.
The man at the bar was new. Tall, broad shoulders, face angular, a pointy nose adding to the overall impression of a weasel. She met his narrow gaze and waited. He finished pouring a drink for a customer a couple of stools down then came back to her.
"I'm looking for a tiny blonde. She's a waitress here. Her name is Devyn."
"Don't know her." He shrugged, pulled out a towel and in a cliché movement from every movie she'd ever seen featuring a bartender, began to wipe down the counter.
Lexi heaved an inward sigh. Pulling a ten-dollar bill from her pocket, she slid it across the smooth surface. Quick as a wink, the bill disappeared into the weasel's bony fingers.
"Heard of her. Haven't met her."
"She hasn't been in?"
"Nope. Talk is she quit without notice. Went home."
Went home? Even though she didn't know Devyn, she knew the girl well enough to know that going home was the last thing she would have done. Devyn's mother was an alcoholic with a penchant for bringing home strays. And not the four-footed furry kind.
Okay, not cute, four-footed furry kinds. More like truck driving, beer swilling deadbeats. From what Lexi'd heard, Devyn beat feet from her home when the latest deadbeat tried for a threesome. Maybe that similarity was why she needed to find Devyn.
Frozen fingers scampered up Lexi's spine. The still air in the club shifted, a simple breath of movement, yet she felt the stirring. She shuddered, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest.
Motion from behind the bar spun her around. The weasel-faced bartender leaped over the counter and landed near her. He shook. Depthless, jet-black eyes filled his face. His lips split into a wide, hungry grin. At the parody of a smile, icy fear twisted around her heart.
In the next instant, he changed. His body elongated. Fingers, growing and tipped with black nails with curved ends, arched away from his body. From the side of his long, gaunt head, tufted ears stuck out.
Holy crap, he really was a weasel!
Momentary panic skipped through her mind as she struggled to assimilate what her eyes saw.
"You come." The weasel demanded in a shrill voice. From the vicinity of the bartender's chest. Not his mouth. From his freaking chest. His tone was high-pitched, with a grating edge like the squeal of rusty hinges scraping against a rusty door. Instinctively, Lexi felt her shoulders duck in reaction to both the sound and his appearance.
"Sorry, you aren't my type. I don't date rodents."
As the words left her mouth, Lexi wanted to slap herself. What was she doing? Mouthing off to a demon? Call her crazy, but somehow she didn't think she'd be reborn a second time.
The weasel laughed. At least, she thought the rapid squeaking was laughter. Maybe it was a signal for other weasel demons.
Adrenaline rushed through her body in a fight or flee demand. She hated to back down from conflict, yet, was she ready to fight a demon? Of course, the option of going with him was out too, leaving her with the only choice that made any sense. Fleeing.
Right.
Instead, Lexi settled into a fight stance. She was not going to back down from a weasly faced demon.
He leaped at her, his black-tipped fingers stabbing toward her, the sharp points digging into her neck in a two-handed strangle. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils.
She choked, knowing she only had seconds to break free before the lack of oxygen would cause her to pass out.
Letting her neck muscles relax, she threw herself to the left and brought her right arm up and over the weasel's. Lexi grabbed his right hand and turned, the pressure of her grip locking his arm.
His fingers slid from around her neck. At the sharp bite of pain as the nails scraped against her skin, she hissed, followed by a raspy inhale of blessed air.
A chittering sound, like teeth gnashing a carrot, came from the weasel's chest, er, mouth. Hurt or pissed off? She didn't care.
She turned its wrist out, putting a lock on it. Both of its arms now trapped, she drove her right elbow back into its pointy chin. Its head snapped back and wobbled unsteadily, but it didn't fall. Sonofabitch.
Before the weasel could strike back, she slid a foot forward and kneed its groin. At least, she hoped it was his groin. She wasn't up on the anatomy of weasel demons. For all she knew, she could have struck its, well, tail.
This time, luck was on her side. The weasel let out high-pitched squeal, bending over as it clutched the sensitive part between its legs.
Cool. It seemed as if males were the same no matter the humanoid species.
Skittering backward, Lexi worked on calming her nerves and taking deep gulps of air. It would either go down and stay down or physiologies aside, come at her again.
It chose door number two. Despite appearing shaky, it straightened, its head turning from side to side as if it had lost her. As if it couldn't see her. It lifted its sharp-edged chin--- Sniffed. It actually sniffed the air.
She backed up another step. Freaking terrific. For some reason it couldn't see her but it could smell her? This really sucked.
With another bout of frantic chittering, the weasel started in her direction. Materializing out of thin air, a bolt of yellow energy struck the weasel, sending it reeling backward. It crashed into a far wall and slid down until it rested on the floor in a lump of boneless flesh.
She jerked her head around and her mouth dropped open. Backlit by the muted lights over the bar, Big Joe's squat form stood, his arms lifted. Sparks scampered over his hands and fingers before dissipating.
"He will be out for only a little time. You must go."
Looked like Big Joe.
Sounded like Big Joe.
But, Big Joe didn't shoot energy bolts from his fingers.
"Lexi, are you listening?" The tiny ring of annoyance tinged his words along with the lines furrowing his brow.
Lexi shook her head rapidly, then refocused on Big Joe. Hmm. Looked the same as he always did. Gray suit. Red tie. Black shoes. Slicked back dark hair with gray frosting his temples.
"Alexandria!"
She blinked and met his brown gaze. Did her expression look as confused as she felt? "I hear you."
"Then get out of here. You are not ready to fight a demon alone."
Big Joe glanced at the supine weasel demon. She followed the direction of his gaze. Did that freaking thing just twitch? As if it had sensed her scrutiny, a couple of fingers on his hand jerked.
Her mind whirling with the events of the past few minutes, Lexi let Big Joe push her toward the door. Then outside. Blinking in the late afternoon sun, she watched him shove the door shut and brace a scraped board against the handle.
"That will not hold him. Yet it should be enough for you to get away. Go back to Mikos."
Mikos? Big Joe knew of Mikos? Lexi closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to settle, to stop from using her brain as a ping-pong table. The befuddled web of her mind cleared. Instead of fear, anger swept in. She felt her cheeks flush.
"What the hell is going on, Joe? Who are you?"
Lexi planted her feet. She wasn't going anywhere until she got some answers from the not-really-an-accountant.
"Lexi, this is not the time." Joe glanced around. "Or the place for that matter. You must go."
"No."
"Stubborn woman."
"You got that right. So, spill." She placed her hands on her hips in case he hadn't received the message she wasn't leaving without information.
Joe, whoever he really was, sighed. "Very well. But not here."
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a white card. Great, another business card. Before handing it to her, he touched a fingertip on the surface. A flash of light, and words appeared. No, not words, but numbers and words.
"Give this to Mikos. He will tell you as much as he can." She took the proffered card. "But, you must go."
She held his gaze. Frustration mixed with sincerity colored his expression. He was unhappy, yet she understood that whatever he gave her was real. A brief bob of her head.
"Now."
As if to punctuate his command, a thud from behind the old steel doors shuddered the frame. Okay, so maybe leaving was not such a bad idea.
With a final glance over her shoulder at Joe, Lexi took off. In that last look, she saw something that nearly made her stop and go back. Joe's form blurred at the edges, the same sunlight yellow glow that had knocked the demon on his ass, surrounded the accountant.
What kept her butt moving was the sound of a particularly loud bang, followed by a bulge in the door's surface that said it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
From the shadows, Jackson McKay watched the conversation between his target and the short man. He'd been plumb lucky to be at the honky-tonk when the woman arrived. As his momma always said, patience was a virtue. She'd made sure this was one he excelled in. Good things come to those who wait had definitely proven true in this case.
Figuring she'd meet up with Tyomni at some point, Jackson planned to follow when she left. He hunkered down for the wait. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a piece of jerky and slowly gnawed on the end. When was the last time he'd eaten a real meal?
He studied the woman. Her specific features were hidden by the late afternoon shadows cast by the light of the sun. The same light that hid her face, sharply outlined her curvy figure. An athletic shape, lean and strong but with fine rounded hips and shapely thighs. Not his type, though. Too exotic looking. He preferred voluptuous blondes. Vapid, voluptuous blondes. The more vapid, the better.
However, he did respect the strength he'd noted in Lexi's eyes when he'd first spoken with her. While his respect didn't mean he'd turn away from doing his job, it just meant he'd be, well, more honorable about it. As much as he could be and as long as he got the job done.
The morality of his views or the way he earned a living didn't bother him. Not overmuch, anyways. He made good money, very good money, working behind the scenes for those individuals of less than decent character. As long as he never hurt anyone, what did it matter? Besides, his momma lived in a fine house because of his jobs.
His current benefactor preferred to keep to the shadows himself. Jackson had never actually met the man who paid a helluva lot of money for a simple family heirloom supposedly of little value to anyone but the man's family.
His employer had not been pleased when Jackson returned without the object. Or the woman's whereabouts. That's a burr under his hide he'd sooner forget. Failing.
Jackson had believed the man was done with him. Until the most recent phone call. His employer was giving him another chance. A last shot at getting the balance of what was owed.
All he had to do was follow her. Her apartment was a wash. Nothing there fit the description his employer provided of an old book, handwritten on animal skin with unusual markings.
So here he was. Skulking about like a coon waiting for the woman to lead him to where she'd gone to ground. Then he'd be able to get to her. A simple in and out. A snatch and grab of whatever she had his employer wanted.
The woman finished her conversation with the little man. Jackson straightened. From the scowl on her face, she appeared all choked up over something. Long legs chewed up the dirt, nearing then passing his location.
He watched her go, for a moment transfixed by the sway of the woman's ass. Definitely a looker.
When he realized she didn't intend to call a taxi, Jackson groaned and eyed his SLR McLaren Roadster. It wasn't like the flashy sapphire blue sportster could mix with the surroundings. After setting the ATA, he made a quick call to his assistant.
Damn it to hell. Why didn't the fool woman call a taxi? Already feeling the blisters forming on his feet, Jackson lit out after her. He'd tack on another hundred dollars for new boots. And five hundred thousand if anything happened to the car.
"I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it."
Mae West
Jackson moved through the still night, his passing barely stirring the leaves littering the ground. You'd think someone with enough money to live in a mansion could afford to have the ground maintained. But then, maybe Mikos Tyomni spent his money on other, more physical pursuits.
Like the woman from the strip club.
Or treasure hunting.
Jackson was very familiar with Tyomni. Oh, he hadn't met the man, mostly knew him by his notoriety. Along with reclusiveness, Tyomni was reputed to possess one of the largest, most eclectic collections of artifacts outside a museum. And to protect his collection, Tyomni's mansion boasted security second to none. Or so Jackson heard. He was figuring on testing those claims tonight.
Not that the tight security mattered a hell of a lot. Jackson had entered more secure places. He crouched behind a low hedge, then reached for a glossy leaved branch. In the next moment, he let out a hiss as a sharp pain pierced his fingertips.
I shoulda known better. Ah hell. Just 'cause a chicken has wings don't mean it can fly. Swearing under his breath, after calling himself all kinds of fool, he eyed the offending plant. How many years had he'd skulked in the dark? Before now, he'd never been as stupid as not to anticipate non-traditional measures.
Security was never just about bells and whistles. It was as much about the most innocuous object masking as the most dangerously effective.
The lowlying, dense shrubbery packed a wallop, providing an effective barrier. Jackson upped his estimation of Tyomni. An inconvenience, this hedge. Meant he had to continue around to the house. Not his first plan, but he'd make it work. He needed to get into the mansion, find the woman and get her to give up this book his employer described.
Creeping along the shrubs, Jackson turned a corner. There, a break in the form of a cellar entrance. He hesitated. His favorite motto---fools rush in---crossed his mind. Risky he was---a fool, most definitely not.
His instincts screamed a warning. Jackson had barely enough space to leap to the side as a figure dressed in inky black detached itself from the night and landed on the ground near him. No grunt of exertion or muffled thud sounded from the figure's obviously long distance jump.
In a brief moment, he assessed the intruder. Not an inch of flesh was exposed to the chilly fall air. Even the mask showed no glint of white from eyes. In fact, Jackson wasn't sure he could see eyes.
Only his instincts saved him.
The figure bent into a slight crouch then launched a straight punch. Coming in low, the strike headed for his ribs. Somehow he knew if it connected, he'd likely end up with a broken rib or two. He brought his right elbow down, protecting his ribs. The strike connected, slamming his elbow to the side, deflecting the punch.
As if the figure expected such a response, it followed up with a spin then a roundhouse knee to his side on the heels of the strike. With as much grace as drunk, Jackson dodged to the side, narrowly missing the strike.
Christ on a cracker, the attacker fought well. And hard. His skills by no means shoddy, Jackson found the attacker's deathly silence unnerving. Which made him angry. He didn't like feeling as if someone had a secret he didn't share.
Worse, the longer he played, the more chance Tyomni would discover him. An opening in her defenses, and Jackson took it. Lunging at the figure, he swept his outside leg into the figure's lower leg.
Grabbing his opponent's left wrist, he placed a hand on the shoulder, pushing forward. At the same time, he chopped his heel against the bend of the figure's knee, jolting the figure's upper body forward.
Moving quickly, Jackson hooked his same-side arm around the figure, pulling him in then sweeping backward. The figure collapsed to the ground. He followed, slamming his knee into the figure's chest, pinning him to the ground.
For the first time, the figure let out a sound. Part hiss, part growl. And feminine.
All feminine.
Mid-strike, he halted. Aw hell. His momma had always told him never to strike a woman. Winging a silent apology to his mother, Jackson reached under the mask's edge and yanked it from the pinned woman's head.
Spilling from the cap, long red-hair tumbled about her shoulders and shimmered like fire, even under the half-light of a quarter moon, flickering and dancing about her face. High cheekbones in a porcelain face. A perfect face.
Except for the fangs showing under full lips pulled back in a snarl and the glowing red eyes.
In that moment, just as quick as the realization, Jackson lost his advantage. The woman bucked and hooked her legs behind him throwing him to the side and off. He continued the movement and sprang to his feet.
She had also settled into a half-crouch, her arms out to her side. Red hair curled in loose waves about her face. A face not so much lovely, but strong, rimmed with hardness.
She hissed again, her lips pulling back to show the fangs he'd half believed, hoped, he'd imagined earlier.
"Mortal, you trespass." The woman's words curled around the fangs, her accent thick, yet with a purr he could feel to the tips of his toes.
Lovely.
Feral.
Deadly.
Jackson didn't know what she was, just that he wanted to stick his fingers into her fire to see how much he'd be burned. Damn fool. Shaking off the odd desire, he bent his head to the woman.
"Pardon me, ma'am. I seem to be lost." He swept a hand through the air, encompassing the house. "I thought this was my friend's house."
An inward grimace. That explanation sounded lame even to his ears. The skeptical glint in the woman's red eyes told him she agreed. Perhaps deciding on how to best evict him. Or if her arched fingers, tipped with long nails painted in bright red, were any indication, eviscerate him.
"You lie," the woman said, her lips now relaxed, yet her head was canted to the side, much like a puppy does when first learning to listen to its human family. On her, it wasn't cute. On her, it was more the calm before the tornado.
Jackson shrugged. "A bad habit."
"What do you want?"
"I need to see the woman."
"No."
"She has something of mine."
The redhead's lips twitched. "I doubt it."
"Shoot. Got me again." Jackson managed a sheepish grin. "Actually, it's my employer's. He's paid me a lot of money to return his property to him." He winked. "I don't like to fail my employers."
"I'm afraid you'll be doing just that. Go away before you get hurt."
Mari watched the handsome mortal's lips pull back into a wide grin. White teeth flashed in a dark face. Broad shoulders and chest sat atop a lean waist. The dark clothing he probably expected to blend with the night hugged his body like a second skin.
The mortal fought without precision and with ill-defined grace, yet there was untrained power behind his defenses. If she hadn't her own skills, the fight might have very well ended with her still pinned beneath his powerful form. A troubling thought.
"Well, now, I can't do that. My reputation is at stake."
She firmed her stance. "And what reputation is that?"
"Besides my charming ways with women?" A half quirk of his lips. "I find lost things."
"Lost things? Or stolen?"
He shrugged. "I'm not hired to care either way. However, I always find what I'm looking for. In fact, that's my motto, Jackson McKay always finds what he's looking for."
"Cute."
"What can I say? I'm adorable."
Lights surrounding the building snapped on. Mari tilted her head to look at them, yet she still kept Jackson McKay in her view. She had a feeling turning her back to him was tantamount to asking for trouble. Getting hurt didn't scare her. She feared...something else.
While light didn't bother her, she was used to working in the darkness. Her eyes narrowed against the glare. "I'm afraid you'll have to return to your employer empty handed. There is nothing for you here."
"Well, I don't know. I figure what I'm looking for is behind these huge walls."
Behind the man's nonchalant and flippant attitude, Mari suspected he was acutely aware of his surroundings and the fact the lights would indicate he had little time left.
"Indeed. Yet, if you stay too much longer, you'll be spending the night in jail."
She could almost hear the thoughts whirling around in the mortal's mind.
"Ah, well, another time then." He sketched a slight bow. At the same time, keeping his eyes on her, he backed up.
Mari considered chasing him down. Instead, she merely held his glance and did nothing as the mortal turned and melted into the shadows. When she was sure he was gone, she allowed a smile to stretch across her face. The mortal was charming like a cute pet. She had no doubt he'd return.
And she'd be waiting.
"Lexi."
The voice calling her name whispered through her mind on a soft sigh.
"Lexi, help me."
The pain in the voice tugged at her heart. She knew that voice. Knew that soft and clear tone, the fragile edges. Devyn.
Lexi sat upright, her sleep-filled eyes searching the shadows. One of the shadows shifted and separated, forming into the petite figure of Devyn.
Was this real? The line separating real from imaginary no longer seemed solid. Its boundaries had been scuffed and broken in places, leaving Lexi adrift. She didn't know how to act at the appearance of Devyn. So she simply stared at the apparition.
A weak smile pulled at the young girl's lips, but didn't reach her blue eyes. At odds with the smile, reproach filled the soft depths. Did Devyn blame Lexi for not saving her in the first place or because she hadn't found her?
Whispers filled her head. Whispers of a place cold and dark. Of tiny sounds in the pitch-black, scrabbling against stone walls. Of unfamiliar smells. Dank smells, evil smells. Devyn never opened her mouth, yet Lexi heard it all.
She threw back the covers and hesitantly approached the young girl. "Where are you?" As she neared, the skin on Devyn's face---moved. Shifted, a rippling movement. No, not the skin but something under the skin.
Lexi froze, feeling the clammy touch of fear tiptoe up her spine. Something was very wrong.
Without warning, Devyn raised her hands, the fingers turning into claws and lunged at Lexi.
"No!" Lexi shrieked and woke. Jerking upright, she looked wildly about the room. In the semi-darkness of dawn peeking in through the windows, only the familiar outlines of furniture had form. No Devyn.
No sylph-like girl with claws where fingernails should be.
"Freaking hell." Raising a shaking hand, Lexi brushed back damp hair from her cheeks. A dream then. No, that's not right. A nightmare.
Her room door flew open, crashing into the opposite wall. Another dark figure stood in the doorway. Her breath caught.
While the sensible part of her mind scoffed at the thought freaky Devyn had returned, the experienced, street-smart side reached slowly for the dagger she kept beside her bed. "Who's there?"
"Mikos." A pause. "I heard a cry. Are you okay?"
Lexi puffed out a breath on an exhale and slid the knife back into its resting place. "Yeah, just a bad dream."
"I felt a disturbance."
She reached over and flipped on the lamp by her bed. The soft glow lit up the room, its gentle light extending around the bed yet failing to penetrate the corners. Nevertheless, she felt comforted by its glow.
Speaking of disturbance, Mikos's attire, or lack thereof, did more to disrupt her state of mind than a visit from a claw-wearing visitor.
Damn near naked in flannel-type sleep pants. The navy blue pajama bottoms hung low just enough she could see the sprinkling of dark chest hair arrow to a point below the waistband.
Even worse, his body may look alert, his languorous expression and tousled hair sent an entirely different message. One that her body, if not her mind, ached to answer.
Yikes.
Shaking off the effect of Mikos's sleep-softened appearance, Lexi cocked her head. "A disturbance? What, like the force? Do I call you Luke now?"
As usual, she attempted to find refuge in humor. And as usual, it fell flat. How do you joke with someone who doesn't get the references? As evidenced by Mikos's current puzzled look.
"I don't understand your reference."
See what I mean? Shrugging inwardly, Lexi grinned and then shook her head. "Never mind."
She sat up and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. Three a.m. She was up. He was up. Maybe they could get in some practice. Then she'd get him to go out to try to track down some leads on Devyn.
Real or not. Dream or not. Either was enough to remind Lexi she'd made a deal with Mikos, and it was time he started honoring it. For nearly a week, she'd practiced, studied and learned.
To her mind, her skills in close contact fighting, thanks to the intensive Krav Maga sessions, had increased significantly. Yet, sometimes, Lexi saw a lingering concern and disappointment in Mikos's expression. Like he wanted, no needed, something more from her.
Eons ago, previous to this past week, and before her life imploded around her, she had told Mikos he couldn't have her faith. Maybe that was what he believed she lacked. Didn't matter. She'd warned him. The only faith she had was in herself.
So what if she had this empty feeling inside? She'd lived with it most of her life. This little hiccup in her life was just that. A hiccup. Nothing she'd seen so far had changed her mind that anything about the human race was worth saving.
Enough. She threw back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"So what do you say to some training? And then we need to---" Her voice trailed off, whatever she'd been about to say draining from her mind.
Mikos's dark eyes captured hers. The smoldering flame in his eyes startled her. Okay, her mental voice dragged out the syllables. Now what?
His gaze dropped, traveling down her neck and lower. Lexi looked down and an exasperated grunt escaped her.
Ah, shit. She'd forgotten she had gone to bed in a light camisole and shorts. The points of her breasts pressed against the thin material, as if recognizing an appreciative audience.
Lexi looked back at Mikos, only to find him standing by her side, his eyes now completely silver. She started to skitter back, across the opposite side of the bed when he lunged. Grabbing her by the shoulders, his hands hot against her skin, he yanked her to her feet.
She had barely enough time to let out a squeak of protest before those sensual lips she longed to touch were on hers.
The touch of Mikos's lips on hers sent a shock wave through her entire body. Not gentle, not soft, the press of his mouth demanded a response. Her emotions whirled and skidded, the drugging kiss sapping her desire to move. To flee.
Instead, after a final shudder, she challenged his kiss with one of her own. Savoring the hard velvet of his lips, her senses reeled as if short-circuited.
His warm hands cupped the sides of her head, gently pressing into her cheeks, yet forcefully pulling her closer. And not just her head, but her whole body until she felt every contour of his lean form.
When his lips left her mouth to trail a fire-hot path down her neck, into the hollow of her throat, Lexi felt her knees buckle. Only his arm about her waist kept her upright. Otherwise, she feared she'd have dissolved into a human version of melted caramel.
Oh my God, she thought. She couldn't ever remember when a man's kiss had left her in such a state. If one ever had. A moan slipped through her lips.
In the back of her mind, sensible Lexi screamed and beat against the mental barrier that this was wrong. That she didn't want to feel.
The not-so-sensible Lexi couldn't believe she'd denied these feelings for so long.
His warm hands left her face, to slide up her thighs, pulling her lower half closer to his. She gasped as those same hands snuck up under her sleeping boxers to reach the curve of her ass.
Almost of their own volition, her hands came up to caress the solid surface of Mikos's back, exploring the ridges and planes of his firm skin.
He pushed his body against hers until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. Her knees gave away, and she fell backward onto the bed she'd recently vacated. She barely had time for a brief moment of concern before his lips reclaimed hers, more demanding this time.
His hands slipped across her belly, the rough hardness sending shivers of desire dancing across each tiny nerve ending until she felt like arching from the bed. Energy rushed through her, filling each molecule with a charge.
Her center pulsed, the space between her legs throbbing with need. A need she hadn't fulfilled in years. A need less associated with mere release, but more completion. As if she'd been waiting for Mikos.
His hands slipped under the waistband of her shorts. She lifted her hips, freeing the material so he could slide them down. She wanted him inside her. Thrusting, filling her up until she couldn't take anymore.
"Lucifer's balls!"
The shout had the effect of ice cold water dumped over Mikos's head. Christ's wounds! He stared down into Lexi's gaze, the pupils so large they almost engulfed the irises.
In Heaven's name, what was he doing? If not for the shapeshifter's opportune appearance, he'd be traveling a path that would destroy any chance he had to return home. A path that led to the final and eternal loss of his soul.
For centuries, he'd been able to ignore mortal women's charms. Why did this hardheaded, disrespectful and cynical one affect him so strongly?
She was not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He'd known others who'd had men lay kingdoms at their feet. Striking, yes. Sensual, extremely. Strong of mind and soul, most assuredly.
"Mikos?"
The grating voice of the shapeshifter pulled his attention from the woman, and his perplexing attraction to her.
He glanced over his shoulder at the hovering demon. The immortal's dark gray skin mottled into a pebbly ash. A visible acknowledgement at how shocking, and discomfiting, finding Mikos about to make love with a mortal woman. He knew this because he had the same sense of uneasiness.
"Yes?" he finally asked.
"Marisol has words."
Mikos nodded. He looked back down at the woman lying under him. Parted lips glistened, swollen and moist from his kisses. Her chest heaved gently under his embrace.
While obviously affected, he saw the realization of what had almost happened begin to glow in her cinnamon gaze. That realization would soon be followed by anger.
"I'll be down momentarily."
"Uh, okay." Rocky cleared his throat, a low rumble of sound. "I'll tell her."
This time he sensed what he hadn't before. Rocky exited, his soul-light disappearing. Wrapped up in being with the woman, Mikos hadn't felt Rocky's presence. Another reason being with Lexi cried danger. How could he protect her when his abilities were clouded by his desires?
When he was sure they were alone, Mikos gently pushed off her. He rolled to the side then off the bed and rose to his feet. She yanked at the disheveled covers, pulling them over her body. Their gazes clashed. Humiliated fury lit her expression. He wondered what she saw in his.
"I am sorry," he said.
For a brief moment, he didn't think she planned to respond. He saw her throat pulse as she swallowed. She raised her chin and gave him a cool stare.
"Get out," she whispered, her voice cool and flat.
Yes, he expected her anger. He felt it as well. She was a lost soul in need of his guidance and what did he do? He nearly dragged her into the depths of his personal hell.
And nearly destroyed his chance to go home.
"Mari has news you'll want to hear," he offered in a tense, clipped voice.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked out the door.
Lexi clutched the thin covers against her body, staring at the door where Mikos had just left. What the hell had just happened? She'd been so ready to give herself to him. In fact, if Rocky hadn't popped in when he had, she would have had sex with Mikos.
With an angel.
He had this power over her. A power that made her body quiver with desire.
The bastard.
After the vampy demon left with whatever news she had, and thank God for the timely interruption, she and Mikos would need to have a discussion about what kept happening. She wanted it to stop. No, she needed it to stop, and if he continued to use his powers on her---
Well, she wasn't sure what she'd do. She'd figure that out later. When she wasn't still reeling from the effects of Mikos caresses and the warmth of his lips on hers. This time, she couldn't blame it on his use of the woo-woo thing.
Turned out she'd wanted to be with him as much it seemed he wanted to be with her. It had been a long time since she'd sex. And never had she had sex with a man she felt some emotional tie to. Yet, she'd nearly done that with an angel.
Flipping the blanket back, Lexi flung herself out of the bed.
She quickly tugged on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve top and hurried out of the room. What kind of news, however fortuitous for Lexi's state of mind, would bring Marisol here just before daybreak?
After making a brief stop in his room to put on his normal outfit of dark denim and a black shirt, Mikos entered the library. Mari faced the fire, her back to him. Her long red hair cascaded down her back in a tangle of tight braids. There was a tenseness about her shoulders he didn't like.
"Mikos."
Her sultry voice rippled down his spine. Once upon a time, he'd considered a relationship with the lovely Fallen. That had soon passed. First, compatriots in Lucifer's army, now friends. Family.
Their familial relationship didn't mean he remained unaffected by her potent presence. There were few who could. Part of her power rested in her ability to make men worship at her feet. A succubus of a sort.
Lucifer had made extensive use of that ability to snare mortal rulers into his camp. Now that she'd turned her back on Hell, she no longer worked her sensual wiles on males, immortal or mortal.
Regardless of her decision, her control over men remained unchanged. So she hunted alone. Lived alone. Worked alone. He knew he was the only male she ever visited because he'd proven over the years to be unaffected by her power.
Mikos often wondered what she did when she wasn't hunting or sparring with him. Where did she go? He'd never asked. What she did was her business.
Her mouth curved into an unconscious smile that didn't reach her eyes. Which were a deep, purple, like amethysts. She wore contacts when she was out among the mortals. Her fangs were retractable---her red eyes could not be changed.
"Mari."
"I have found the female the protector searches for."
"Devyn? You found Devyn? Where?"
This from Lexi who rushed into the room as if she'd been running. Despite taking the time to slip into regular clothing, her hair still outlined her head in a disheveled mess, tumbling about her shoulders in waves of ebony.
Mikos clenched his fists, fighting the urge to bury his fingers into the unruly mass. To smooth back the loose tendrils at her cheeks. He took a deep breath. While a part of him blessed Rocky's timely interruption, another part, the dark part, damned the shapeshifter's arrival.
Mari looked over at him, a question in her eyes. He nodded, and she turned back to face Lexi.
"The girl is being held on a farm outside..."
"How is she? Is she hurt? Who has her?" The words tumbled from Lexi's mouth before she'd even fully entered.
"Lexi, please let Mari finish."
Despite the tension, Mikos hid a smile as she clamped her lips tight. She fidgeted from side to side. He could tell it took all the willpower she had to remain quiet. Pride swelled when she did.
Mari inclined her head then continued. "The human is damaged but in a relatively whole condition."
"Damaged? What the hell does that mean?" Lexi's patience had lasted all of two seconds. "And her name is Devyn, not the girl or the human."
Yeah, she knew she sounded petulant at that moment, but she was getting mighty tired of these supposed immortals and angels labeling Lexi and her fellow mortals as humans. It wasn't the terminology. No big deal there. It was the way their lips seemed to curl in disgust, as if being human was something much less worthy than being an immortal.
The strength of her reaction stopped Lexi a bit. Since when was she worried about her fellow humans being thought of in such a disreputable light? Since when did she care? Had she changed her mind? In that instant, she mentally shook her head. Nope, she hadn't.
Right?
"My apologies, Lexi. I meant no offense, nor disrespect." Light stains of scarlet appeared on Mari's cheeks. "It's just that, well, I've spent a lot of time recently with other immortals who don't share---oh, hell's bells." Her apology cut off.
Even though she suspected that Mari felt the same thing, she took pity on the uncomfortable woman, "Yeah, I get it."
"Mari, please continue."
Lexi swung her head around and eyed Mikos. Was that a trace of laughter in his voice? And what about that suspicious twitch of his lips? Despite her worry for Devyn, Lexi had to admit, in the deepest, darkest part of her, how much she enjoyed seeing the humor sparkling in his icy gaze.
"As I was saying, Devyn," Mari went on, a jerk of her head at Lexi who sent Mari a half smile acknowledging the demoness's use of Devyn's name, "shows some signs of a struggle, and is somewhat banged up but she appears unharmed otherwise. None of the wounds is life threatening."
Oh, God. Devyn. Icy fear twisted around Lexi's heart. How could she have let this happen?
"The shaft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle's own plumes.
We often give our enemies the means of our destruction."
Aesop
Well on the way into fall, the night air had a fragrant blend of fallen leaves, crisp coolness and wood smoke from someone's fireplace. A lovely night for hayrides, bonfires and snuggling under the blanket.
Instead, she was snuggled into a thin jacket with her sanjiuen strapped to her hip and heavy steel-toed boots covering her freezing feet. She felt like stamping to warm them but figured Mikos wouldn't appreciate the noise. Instead, she blew quietly on the other pair of cold appendages and looked around.
The dilapidated barn leaned to the right, much like the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy. What held it even in the semblance of standing was beyond comprehension. The barn, despite its battered appearance, seemed like it should be in a fairytale. Silver moonlight bathed the old wood in a soft, silvery light. Here and there, flickers of movement danced upon the surface from the trees near the barn. A fairytale not a prison which it was if Devyn was in there.
Lexi looked askance at Mikos, and on his other side, the lovely Marisol. Human, angel and demon. What a combination. Perfect for breaking and entering to save an innocent. By now, it sounded almost commonplace enough to make her sick.
Mikos wore a jet-black jumpsuit that appeared to absorb any light that touched it, giving him the appearance of blending in with his surroundings. At least the dark surroundings. Long, inky hair, bound in a dark band completed the picture of someone deadly serious.
And deadly attractive.
She didn't want to feel the attraction. Earlier in her room, had proven she wasn't the only one whose hormones were running rampant.
Did angels have hormones? Whatever they were called, Mikos had plenty to spare. If it hadn't been for that urgent summons delivered by the oh-so-subtle shapeshifter, would she and Mikos have finished what they'd started? She suspected they would have.
When she closed her eyes, Lexi could almost believe his warm, strong hands caressed her bare skin while his sexy lips kissed her into submission. For the first time since she could remember, she wanted a man with soul-encompassing passion. She hadn't believed she could ever want so strong. Especially not with the ugly specter of her childhood never far from her consciousness.
Shaking off her travels down a road she didn't care to go, Lexi asked Marisol, "You sure this is the right place?"
The vampy-demon nodded. Her eyes, like the moon above, reflected silver. Unlike Mikos, she didn't dress in basic black. Nope, not for her. Marisol, for all her dark-demonic appearance, looked striking in a form-fitting deep emerald green tunic and split pants. Well, actually, the pants were a heavy leotard with some sort of gauzy material making a skirt.
Her outfit wouldn't have been complete without the emerald belt about her waist. A small, silver crossbow hung from a thong on one side. Some kind of dagger sporting an ornate hilt had a prominent place strapped to her right thigh.
By comparison, Lexi's subdued gray-blended jeans and tank top covered by a shorty jacket compared with Marisol like vanilla compares with mint chocolate chip. Lexi had to fight back a snort of laughter.
Mikos met her gaze. A dark eyebrow lifted. She lifted her shoulders into a shrug. When one corner of his full lips pulled into a slight smile, her brow lifted. Had he read her thoughts? Damn, she hoped not.
He leaned in, his breath brushing against the nape of her neck. She sucked in a startled gasp at his closeness.
"She does like to be a show off, doesn't she?"
Um, right. Lexi didn't trust her voice so she nodded. Relief, both that he couldn't read her mind and that he'd stepped back, swept through her. For Pete's sake, what the hell was wrong with her?
Pressing her lips together, she ignored Mikos's knowing glance and checked her own gear. Her sanjiegun rested in its usual place, a sheath belted to her waist. She held the kubotan clenched in one fist. Held tightly but relaxed so her fingers didn't knot.
None of them had a gun of any sort. None of them needed one. Between the various weapons of choice, a gun would have been overkill. And since she wouldn't touch one, didn't want one near her, the lack of any suited her just fine.
Like Mikos and Mari, Lexi turned her attention to the barn. How odd was it there seemed to be no guards of either the human or non-human kind?
In fact, to the naked eye, the barn seemed deserted. A trap? As that thought filled her mind, Lexi glanced at Mikos. He gave her a slight nod as if he knew what she'd been thinking. So the angel thought it was a trap too.
When a frown creased his forehead, Lexi took a half step forward. Could that frown mean he gave consideration to backing out? She wouldn't allow that. Devyn was in there, and Lexi was going to get her out. She glared at Mikos and jerked her head at the barn.
Annoyance flickered in his silver gaze, but still, he turned back to the double doors. A thick chain with a huge lock barred the front of the barn. Another sign something wasn't right. If someone was in the barn with Devyn this padlock would have kept them locked in. And unless there was a key, no one was getting in. Or out.
Mikos placed a hand over the lock. Lexi widened her eyes as a soft, white glow covered the metal. A quiet click and the lock separated. He pulled the pieces apart and carefully drew out the chain.
Oops, my mistake. Looks like the angel came with his own lock-picking device.
Without being asked or a nod from Mikos, Marisol pushed open one side of the old doors. She slipped inside the darkness. A brief moment later, a pale hand came out and beckoned them in. Eager to get to Devyn, Lexi took a step forward, but was gently pushed aside by Mikos. Another frown and he shook his head. Lexi scowled.
Damn, she really hated this macho, protect the woman crap. How annoying to see the behavior wasn't only a human male thing. Apparently angels had the same hang up. Surely, though, she'd proven her abilities by now. Mikos was definitely a better fighter than her, yet, she'd given as good as she got in most cases.
This time, though, she halted and let him go first. Not the time or place to get into a feminine versus masculine pissing contest. Grudgingly, she had to admit he had more experience dealing with the dark side. Granted, a side she hadn't known existed. In this case, she'd defer to his knowledge.
But that male smirk gleaming in his silver eyes really pissed her off.
Mikos slipped into the dark. Lexi fidgeted, again passing her hands over the various weapons buckled and belted to her body. The kubotan felt comforting in a solid, cool sense. When it was obvious she wasn't going for the gun idea, Mikos had then tried to get her to switch to a sword instead of using a sanjiegun.
She hadn't liked that either. A sword wasn't her idea of a weapon. Sure, it was sharp and would do the maximum damage when necessary but then so would the kubotan or sanjiegun. She liked the options the stick and staff gave her in being able to hurt, maim or kill. With a sword, most blows would be debilitating or fatal.
Mikos stuck his head out the door and nodded. Lexi took a deep breath and slipped into the crack. Into the darkness of the interior of the barn. Once inside, it took a few seconds for her vision to adjust to the darkness after the brightness of the early morning light. Neither Mikos nor Mari seemed to have had that problem.
Great. They could see in the dark. Bully for them.
When her vision adjusted, she scanned the interior. Looked like a typical barn.
Despite having never been in one, she'd seen enough pictures she wasn't surprised to see the bales of hay stuffed under the eaves, the various farm equipment bits and pieces scattered throughout the interior.
Stale smells, as if the barn hadn't been used in some time despite the appearance of the hay tickled her nostrils. Dust, mostly, mixed with what she could only suppose was rodent droppings. She figured it was a good guess since she had no idea what mouse crap smelled like but she knew they'd be found in barns.
Faint light from various small holes in the ceiling dusted the objects with mote-filled light. Just enough to hint at the belief of things hidden behind the shadows without identifying what lurked past the light.
With a blur of movement, Mari entered the deeper shadows. Lexi watched her go but not before she saw the pinched expression at the corner of the vampy demon's eyes. What was that all about? Suddenly, a primitive warning sounded in her brain. Something was so not right here.
He glanced over his shoulder and gestured for her to follow him. Good idea. After that look in Mari's eyes, Lexi's warning increased until it reverberated throughout her body as if her body was the gong and the odd sense the bashing stick.
As she and Mikos passed around a particular large piece of farm equipment, she caught a faint glimpse of orange light tinged with a sickly shade of yellow. A very wrong color.
At the same moment, Mari popped in. Not so much as walked. One minute the space was empty, the next the demoness stood before them.
"No immortals are present," she said, her voice not much above a whisper.
It surprised Lexi she'd spoken at all. Didn't they need to be silent? That pinched look in Mari's eyes had disappeared. What took its place was, well, nothing. As if her face was a chalkboard, all expression had been wiped clean, leaving behind a porcelain surface devoid of life. Of emotion.
Lexi's stomach twisted.
"The structure is empty of dark forces," Mari continued, her red eyes locked onto Mikos's silver as if she tried to communicate telepathically. Like she told him something she didn't want Lexi to know.
Like hell.
"What about Devyn?" Lexi asked. She was not about to stand here like a child while the adults communicated above and around her. Devyn was her responsibility. Her...friend.
Mikos met her gaze. The silver had begun to clear. A sure sign that danger was not imminent. Lines furrowed his brow. "It is best we go."
Damn it, she knew it. "You're keeping something from me." She planted both hands on her hips as she confronted him. "What the hell is going on? Where is Devyn?"
Mikos ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed torn. As if he wanted to tell her but was afraid of---. What? Her reaction? That had to be it.
"Phoenix, you must let her see." This from Mari.
Mikos whipped his head around and fixed a glare on the demoness. She stood resolute, her chin lifted. "You know she must."
"Okay, you two are really beginning to piss me off." Lexi spoke through gritted teeth. "I must see what?"
At the moment the words slipped through her lips, Lexi froze. A quick and disturbing thought flashed through her mind as a flicker of apprehension coursed through her. Her gaze focused on the sickly light.
Pushing past Mikos, she darted for the light. She heard him call out for her to stop but ignored him. Her stomach churned with dread even as she neared the spot where the light forced its way through the dark, seeming to have a weight of its own.
She heard rapid footfalls behind her but didn't turn around. Rubbing sweating palms against her thighs, Lexi stepped through the small door into a back room of the barn.
At first glance, other than the nasty-looking glow, everything appeared normal. Until she swung her gaze around. She felt the color drain from her face.
Oh my God. Lexi's heart, which had been thudding rapidly in her chest, skipped a beat, tripping over the ache in her chest.
Devyn the lovely, innocent girl who'd only wanted to be her friend was spread-eagled on the far wall. Her wrists and ankles splayed in the shape of an X.
Across her naked chest, another X had been carved into her flesh, the blood washed away leaving deep scores into her skin, cutting deep and jagged.
Other marks surrounded the X. Smaller sigils twisted around the large symbol. Despite her limited knowledge, none of the sigils were familiar.
Lexi's gaze traveled past the mutilated chest up into Devyn's face. For all the horror she'd obviously suffered, the young girl's bleached face was unlined with pain or terror. In fact, it looked as if she were merely sleeping.
All her muscles turned rigid. She stared at Devyn as Mikos walked up to the girl. He touched a hand to her body, then lowered his head. She saw his lips move as he mumbled something, a prayer maybe?
That was enough for Lexi. She fell to her knees, her hands covering her mouth. She heard a muffled keening sound, a wailing. It took a minute before she realized the horrible, pain-filled sound came from her own mouth.
Bleak and primitive grief overwhelmed her as she locked on what used to be a girl in the prime of her life. The pain of loss, regret and anger filled each atom of her body until it cried for release. She threw back her head and screamed. Pain crashed over her.
And soul-wrenching guilt.
Another life lost because of her. First her parents, then her professor and now Devyn.
"Lexi, we must go. They will not have gone far and will have heard your cry."
She turned her head and through tear-filled eyes, stared up at Mikos. Raw anger and pain glittered in his icy gaze that no longer seemed so icy. A match to her own she suspected. She could handle the pain. The rage, however, needed an outlet.
"Good. Let them come."
She heard the ice-edged tone, marveling that it had come from her own mouth. In fact, it was an accomplishment she could speak at all. Her throat felt raw from screaming.
"There will be too many." Mikos frowned as he spoke.
"I don't care."
"You will die."
"Read my lips. I. Don't. Care." She enunciated each word, exaggerating the movement of her lips.
His scowl burned into her, but she still didn't move. Before she could react, two hands came down on her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. Those hands which once, not so very long ago, had held her tenderly, now had a punishing grip.
"Would you let Devyn's death be for naught? Would you let her sacrifice destroy everything? Beliel took someone you cared about. To use her against you. To stop you. Would you let him win by following her into death?"
"Mikos, you bastard, Devyn's death was for nothing." Lexi tried to jerk away from his grip to no avail. His hold was tight, no flexibility existed to break away.
So she just lifted her chin, meeting him glare for glare. "She died for no good reason. Because of me. Just like my parents. Just like my professor. For what? For some grand scheme written before I was even born? How could it be in anyone's plan that Devyn die?
"And what makes you think I'd want to be part of a plan where innocents are killed because of me?"
She jerked away again and this time Mikos let her go. He dropped his hands to his sides. He clenched his fingers into fists. She didn't fear he'd strike her. Maybe he wanted to grab her again and shake her until her brain rattled. She was past caring.
"You and Mari go. I'm staying. I want their blood."
Resolve entered his eyes. "Very well. You leave me with no choice."
"Good. Then get out."
Mikos nodded. "As you command."
Lexi started to turn but as she did so, he suddenly lunged at her, wrapping his arms around her. She let out a squeak of surprise then stiffened. His black wings snapped out from behind him. One set folded around her, locking her tight against Mikos.
Between his wings and warm arms, Lexi felt, for a brief moment, cherished. In the next second, fury ripped through her but before she could react, she felt herself lifted into the air.
"Mikos! You bastard! Let me go!"
He ignored her, his flight carrying her the length of the barn until they burst out through the double doors into the light.
The beat of his powerful wings carried them up, higher into the light-laden morning. Below her, scenery rushed by in a blur of blue, green and brown. Her head spun. She felt her eyes cross. Her vision narrowed.
She looked up at Mikos. A muscle flicked in his jaw, his lips clamped tight. He must have sensed her watching him because he lowered his eyes and clashed with hers.
Lexi didn't say anything. She didn't need to since she was sure her eyes said everything for her. Acknowledgement sparked in his, and he seemed to nod. As if he knew, and accepted, his actions would have consequences.
Her vision narrowed further until all she saw was his silver eyes. Then those too blinked out. She was left with pain, anger...and darkness.
The jolt of the landing snapped Lexi out of her daze. Her head tilted back, and she stared up at the underside of Mikos's taut jaw line. His wings pulled back.
For a moment, she couldn't move. Didn't want to move. To face the world outside of the strange comfort she'd felt being wrapped in Mikos's arms. Being carried in his arms. A comfort that had overwhelmed the fury and agony at Devyn's loss.
Fury and agony Lexi felt returning each second. Taking a deep and unsteady breath, she stepped away from him. She felt her fists bunch at her sides. Before the thought did more than enter her mind, Lexi swung a right hook. Her fist connected with Mikos's jaw, snapping his head back.
She'd struck him wrong as evidenced by the sharp stab of pain zigging from her fist up her arm. Shaking out the knife-like torture rippling through her fist, she glowered at him. "I'll never forgive you for this," she said through gritted teeth.
A part of her knew she was wrong. None of this was Mikos's fault. It was hers. But since he'd stopped her from punishing herself, he'd have to be her scapegoat.
She spun and stomped upstairs. Once in her room, after she'd slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls, Lexi flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
But only for a second. Rage burned her chest with heat. She flung herself from the bed, pacing the carpet. After too many damn passes, her attention was caught by a flash of light reflecting off glass.
Lexi stared at the picture frame and her eyes narrowed until the tiny faces of her parents were all that choked her vision. How dare they leave her with such a legacy, yet not be around for her when she needed them most?
She curled her fingers around the frame, and snatched it from the dresser. Her parent's smiles seemed to mock her, laughing at a cosmic joke. Her lips curled. At the same time, moisture at the corners of her eyes only made her angrier.
She didn't want to feel. Didn't want to care. Each time she did, someone hurt her or worse, died. Like her parents. Like Tom. Now Devyn.
Before she could think, she threw the frame at the far wall. The picture of her parents hit the plaster with a wooden thunk and the distinctive tinkle of glass breaking.
Shattered beyond repair, the last link to her parents.
Lexi stared at the pile without blinking until she felt a dry, burning sensation.
"Alexandria."
She whipped her head around. A shimmering column of silver light coalesced near her, solidifying until it took the shape of a human. Male.
Lexi sank into a defensive crouch. Another freaking demon? In Mikos's own home?
Instead of the darkness and sulfur-scent of demon, the intruder was all brilliant light. Wavy golden hair framed a strong face. He wore power, confidence and faith like a mantle. No like a second skin.
Serene contemplation glowed within the sapphire blue that held her gaze. Empathy, but no pity. Understanding.
"Who are you?" She finally found the words.
"You know who I am." His voice had an infinitely compassionate tone.
She felt like weeping.
Finally, Lexi nodded. Actually she did. As suddenly as he appeared, a name flashed into her mind. "You're Archangel Michael." She straightened, but for some reason, crossed her arms over her chest.
His turn to nod, a brief bend of the neck. "Why are you so angry?" he asked. A simple question. Not accusatory as if she didn't have the right. Just a question.
"Shouldn't I be?" In contradiction to his calm, matter-of-fact tone, her voice sounded broken, tired.
"Anger serves no useful purpose," he continued. "It makes you weak."
"I don't feel weak."
"Your soul, Alexandria, not your physical body."
Lexi snorted. "My soul? My soul is a bit bruised but just fine, thank you."
She couldn't believe she was being disrespectful to Archangel Michael. Scratch that. She couldn't believe she was actually having a conversation with him. Sure, Mikos was an angel. She'd accepted that. But this one...
"Your soul is more bruised than you know. But that is not what I mean. Without faith, without belief, you are open to spiritual attack. A far worse event."
"You're an angel. One of the most powerful ones." Uh, duh, Lexi, how about the most powerful one. She knuckled both hands on her hips. "Surely you can see why I'd be angry. I've lost everything. Everyone I've cared about. So, yeah, I'm pretty pissed off."
"Does anger really serve you?"
"It's kept me alive."
His head tilted to the side. "Has it?"
"Look at me. I'm here aren't I?"
"Yes, you have a physical form. Yet, do you really believe you are alive?"
Lexi hesitated, her gaze locked on to the Archangel's. His words tripped a knowing path through her mind. "Does it matter?"
"Only you can answer that, Alexandria."
She didn't like the direction of the conversation. He made her think about things, about her life, things she'd rather not think about. It was enough that she had form. So what if her life was empty?
"Through no fault of their own, your parents were not able to be with you. Were not there to make you aware of your ancestry. Would you really throw away your inheritance? Their gift to you?"
"A gift?" Lexi snorted again. "What gift?
"The gift to see more than others do. To protect against evil. To know there is something more out there than a life on Earth. Faith, Alexandria."
Inwardly Lexi cringed at the continued use of her full name by the Archangel. However, she didn't correct him. Somehow it sounded right on him. Besides, who wanted to correct an angel who supposedly sat at the right hand of God?
Even she wasn't that stupid.
Yet, she was still furious. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Devyn's sweet face. Instead of warm and full of life, the younger girl's face had the glossy, smooth appearance of marble. White, cold. Lifeless.
"Why should I care?"
"You are the only one who can save your fellow mortals from extinction. From death."
"Everyone dies," she scoffed. "Sometimes the timing is bad, but at some point everyone does. After all, we aren't angels. So what if it happens all at once."
"There are worse things than dying."
The words sounded familiar. Mikos had said the very same thing to her when she first met him. "Blah, blah, heard that refrain before. I'll tell you what I told Mikos. Sometimes living is worse than dying."
"Do you really believe that, Alexandria?"
Lexi winced at the sympathy in the angel's tone. Again, not pity. Pity would have just pissed her off. The caring and compassionate manner of the angel did more to shake the foundations of her belief than pity.
So she did what she always did. She resorted to anger to keep her strong. "My beliefs are my own. It doesn't change the fact that Devyn is dead. Murdered. For what? A game between good and evil? I may not have faith, I may not be a believer, yet even I know that in a game, innocents get hurt."
Lexi paced a short path. "Devyn was an innocent with her whole life stretched before her. Now it's gone. Snuffed by bad guys. Demon, angel or human. Doesn't make a difference."
"It does make a difference. You will learn. We may not be blessed with understanding the Lord's reasons, but all things and all life given and taken have a purpose."
God, she hated when that phrase was touted out as the explanation for everything. "The Lord had a reason Devyn needed to die?" Forgetting her earlier thought about not pissing off archangels, Lexi shouted, "Don't you get it? Devyn is dead, and it's my fault!"
As the shout slowly faded, the words reverberated through her mind. Her fault. She'd killed Devyn just as sure as if she'd had done the act herself.
She should have gone after the girl. Instead, she'd made a deal with Mikos to train to fulfill a role she didn't believe in. Instead of searching for Devyn, Lexi had been secluded in this beautiful mansion playing a game.
Archangel Michael kept his calm gaze on hers. Before he opened his mouth, she knew the words he'd say.
She held up a hand. "Don't, please. I know you're going to tell me it's not my fault. My mind tells me you're right, but my heart says something else entirely."
Michael nodded. "I understand. This is something you will need to discover for yourself."
His outline began to blur. A translucent aura surrounded him, gaining strength with every passing second. "Do not wait too long to understand, Alexandria. Every breath you take brings Samhain closer. Before long it will be too late."
Long after the golden Archangel left, Lexi stared at the spot he'd inhabited. In the wake of the sustaining anger, she felt drained. As if she'd run a thousand miles. Uphill.
She slowly walked to the broken glass and, careful to keep away from the glittering shards, knelt. Her hands rested on her thighs as she considered the broken pieces of the last link to her parents. The hollow ache in her heart swelled, leaving her soul feeling lonelier than she'd ever felt before.
That was it then. Everything she had was gone. Sure, she could buy another frame. Maybe she would. But somehow, the act of throwing her parents' picture across the room symbolized her throwing away her parents. And any memory of them.
Carefully pushing aside the sharp fragments, Lexi pulled out the photograph. The same faces she'd looked at for years gazed back at her. Was there condemnation in their expressions? Real or imagined, guilt swept through Lexi. She flipped over the picture, not wanting to see her parents' disappointed faces.
Something stuck to the back of the photo. An old piece of paper, slightly yellowing and brittle at the edges. The glue holding the note to the picture had dried and cracked with age, the adhesive barely holding the two pieces together.
With careful fingers, Lexi gently tugged at the paper until it separated. Pulling at the corners, she opened the small square. Faded writing, more like scribbling, really, covered the small square of paper.
She squinted then sucked in a deep breath and held it. The photo slipped from her fingers. Her stomach lurched at the first line. My darling daughter.
Her body wobbled out from under her. Lexi barely felt the glass shards puncture her skin. The pain, a minor inconvenience to be ignored. Which she did. In her shaking hands, she held a link to her parents. A letter.
Finally releasing the air she'd hoarded, she took a few gulping breaths. Her heart pounded, thud, thud, until it felt as if the furiously beating organ would burst from its confines.
When she'd calmed enough to focus on the rest of the letter, she started reading.
My darling daughter. My heart shatters at the thought of you facing your heritage alone. If you are reading this, every fear we had came to fruition. Your mother and I never expected things to turn out as they have.
There is little time and little space to tell you all you need to know.
You have a role to fill, a role that at times, will seem more like a curse than a blessing. You must have faith.
The letter went on to tell her things she'd learned from Mikos about being a defender. Seeing this in a letter from her father seemed to solidify the information. Making it seem somehow more real.
Lexi continued to read. The writing was harder to read near the end, as if her father had scribbled the rest hastily in an effort to jot as much down as he could in a limited amount of time.
Alexandria, this last part is extremely important. Take a close look at the photo of your mother and me. There is a sequence of numbers. Go to the St. Stanislaus Kostka Church in West Town. The Archdiocese hides a safe. Use the numbers to open the safe. Inside is a priceless object. You must destroy it. To my shame, I was not able to before...
Severe blurring obscured the next couple of words. Lexi touched a finger to the blot. She sucked in a deep breath. It looked like, well, a few tears had dropped onto the page. Had her father been crying? She continued to read.
I wish I could have seen you grow into the lovely, strong woman I'm sure you are. We'll see each other again, my wonderful daughter. Just know this, you are loved very much and the only regret I have is not being able to hold you in my arms.
With much love, Dad and Mom.
A splash of wetness hit her hands, matching the one already on the paper. Lexi stared at the spot. More followed. She lifted a hand and touched her face. Tears tracked a slow path down her cheeks. After brushing aside the moisture, she swallowed hard and bit back any further tears.
All this time she'd had a letter from her parents, something else of them, from them, behind the old photograph. What twist of fate had allowed her to keep the picture, with this precious letter with her no matter how many homes she had moved into?
Carefully brushing through the glass, she grabbed the photo and got to her feet, the letter and photo clutched in her fingers. Moving over to the window, she pushed back the curtains to let in the bright sunlight. In the glaring light, the outlines of her parents sharpened.
So did the string of numbers printed on the back of the square, a notebook maybe, in her mother's arms. She'd never seen that before. Or never took notice.
The sequence of numbers appeared random, yet, with a purpose. As if they were a combination. Which seemed to match with her father's instructions to go to the Church of St. Stanislaus Kostka.
She'd never been there, although she'd heard of the Polish Cathedral style church, which also happened to be the mother church for all other Polish churches in Chicago.
Lexi waited a few seconds more, staring at the photograph and letter. Would there be any more messages from her parents? Something else she was supposed to see or read?
The fabric of the curtain slipped from her fingers, dropping back to cover the window, casting the room into semi-darkness. Lexi studied the picture.
This time, she barely saw the item in her mother's arms. No words or numbers. A trick of the light?
She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Plenty of time for her to make it to St. Stanislaus, open the safe and retrieve the object her father mentioned. Which, if her instincts were correct, was the same item the soul-sucking demon Beliel wanted.
The item for which he killed Devyn to get Lexi to retrieve. Oh, she'd retrieve it all right. And destroy it as her father instructed. Beliel had made a big mistake.
Instead of forcing her to give him what he wanted, killing Devyn had only solidified everything Mikos had said about the bastard. So the last thing she was about to do was anything Beliel wanted.
Lexi committed the numbers to memory. A lump the size of a bowling ball lodged in her throat when she looked at her parents. The only physical thing left of them and she could only do one thing with it.
With shaking fingers, she tore the photograph into tiny pieces. Each tear ripped through her body. Now that she knew of the photo and its message, she couldn't risk anyone else finding it before she could get to the church.
Sure, Mikos said he had his wards, yet, she didn't put anything past a demon. After all, Mikos was an angel and didn't have the dark side a demon did. He couldn't be expected to safeguard everything against evil.
She stared at the pieces in her hand, small enough now to fit into her palm. Burned, they should really be burned, she thought then decided it didn't matter. No one would be able to assemble the pieces in enough time to beat her to the church. Unless they used magic. Lexi shook her head.
Enough. Time to get going. After tossing the torn shards of her past into the trash, she went into the bathroom. She needed a shower then she'd see about getting something to eat.
And deal with Mikos.
"Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things."
Dennis Diderot
The crash and shattering sound of the glass jerked Mikos's gaze to the second floor. He headed for the staircase, then halted with one foot on the bottom step. His senses screamed with the presence of a powerful immortal. A point of fact, Michael visited Lexi.
As much as Mikos wanted to storm up the stairs, to take Lexi into his arms to protect her from the death of her friend and the mind games the Archangel would play, he didn't. Michael would not appreciate the disturbance.
Mikos didn't want the all-knowing angel to see how much the mortal had worked her way under his skin. Not just lust, but something more. Something as equally forbidden.
Instead of rushing to her side as every fiber of his being demanded, Mikos spun on his heels and went into his library. As he thought about the events over the last several hours, he paced in front of the fireplace. Back and forth so many times he lost track.
Ignoring the silence from the second floor, he focused on the chaotic and disturbing thoughts whirling through his mind. He hadn't expected the young woman to be unscathed, yet he hadn't anticipated Beliel would kill her outright. Maybe once he'd gotten the Key and no longer needed Lexi's good will. But to simply kill the girl...? Illogical.
What would have been the purpose? To frighten Lexi? To make her fear for her own life? A foolish thing to do, and Beliel had never acted the fool before. Because of this, Mikos felt as if he trod unknown territory. Could there be another demon as Ash said? Had Morningstar released Rahab? All signs indicated he had.
Lexi hadn't seemed to notice, or recognize, the markings on the girl's chest. He and Mari had. At least they'd recognized the purpose behind them. A summoning. An old summoning that only one who'd been close to Morningstar would know.
Who had been summoned? And who had done the summoning?
Mikos paused in front of the fireplace, his gaze seeing but not focusing on the collection of Canopic jars. He'd sent Mari to the Demon Realm to see what information she could glean. He could call Ash. As that thought crossed his mind, Mikos forced it back.
No, no, he'd not call Ash. His brother had made a choice and, despite his visit and warning, was still Morningstar's Slayer. For all Mikos knew, Ash could have been the one to kill the girl. The summoning wasn't a normal one to call the Slayer but that didn't mean Ash hadn't been the intended demon.
Mikos ran fingers through his hair. Beliel still needed the Key. Which meant he still needed to find Lexi. As much as it pained him to admit, the girl's death was of less importance than insuring the Key was kept hidden. Mikos's lips twisted. The protector had no idea where it was located.
That should make him feel secure. It didn't. It meant that Beliel would increase his attempts to acquire the protector. He knew, as well as Mikos did, that just because Lexi couldn't recall the location of the Key, didn't mean it wasn't hidden in her subconscious.
With Samhain less than three days away, if Beliel was to succeed, he'd need the defender. Otherwise, he'd have to wait another year and somehow, Mikos sensed Beliel didn't believe he had the time. Maybe Lucifer had indeed become aware of the lesser demon's bid for more power.
But, as Ash indicated, did it bode ill for humans? Or Beliel?
Mikos shook his head. He'd been in the Physical Realm long enough to understand human politics. One thing he'd never understand was angel and demon politics. The battle wasn't about good defeating evil. It had always been about maintaining the balance. So that neither good nor evil ever took precedence.
The politics played in the immortal realms were all about that balance. This made the games played even more unsteady. Who decided what shifted the balance? Some things were obvious. Like Beliel's attempt to gain more power.
The sealing by Solomon of the seventy-two demons into the Vessel had been necessary. Letting their power be absorbed by Beliel would set the lesser demon over Lucifer. Upsetting the balance. That could not be allowed.
For all his faults and dark evil, Lucifer understood balance. He understood that as much as he might rail against God, the two needed each other.
Mikos froze. His mind whirled with possibilities. So many things about the situation were unbalanced. Had Lucifer acted through others to stop the danger represented by Beliel's actions? If that was the case, were the Lord of Hell and Lord of Heaven working together?
Mikos felt his knees quiver at the implication. He collapsed into the side chair and rested his elbows on his desk. Staring at the scrolls and manuscripts littering his desk, the significance of both sides working together unbeknownst to their followers had eternal ramifications.
At this moment, he felt as if he were a chess piece, in particular a pawn, to be moved about and sacrificed at the whim of the main players. That view also gave him a sense of what Lexi must be going through.
What remained to be decided was what, if anything, would he do about his newfound knowledge.
He rubbed fingers down his jaw line, grimacing when he bumped against the lump from the blow he'd received from Lexi. Lexi. Mikos drew in his lips thoughtfully, grateful to think about her instead of the games being played between light and dark.
The pain at her friend's loss had nearly undone him as well. Yet, he wasn't about to let her destroy herself for revenge. She'd probably never forgive him for taking her away. He didn't regret the decision and would do it again if necessary. At least she was safe. For the time being.
Mikos concentrated on upstairs. He no longer felt Michael's presence. He had no idea when the Archangel had left, just that Lexi was alone now. And it was too damn quiet.
His lips firmed. Despite her anger, he had to go up and find out how she was. Even though he could simply materialize in her room, he took the stairs two at a time.
Trying the door, he was surprised to find it unlocked. He knocked softly. No answer.
In the background, he thought he heard the sound of water running. Knowing, but not caring, that he was making an error in judgment, Mikos opened the door and stepped inside.
His glance around the room locked in on the broken glass and pieces of wood lying in the corner. The source of the crash he'd heard earlier. He recognized what was left of the frame. The picture of her parents used to be resting on top of the dresser.
Walking over to the shards, he bent down and peered into the pile. Where was her parents' picture? The amount of anger she must have felt to throw the frame against the wall, destroying the only thing she had of her parents must have been so strong, why would she have picked up the photo? He'd have expected to see it discarded among the rest of the pieces.
A door clicked. Mikos turned around. He met the startled cinnamon-shaded gaze of Lexi. Her wide eyes appeared huge in a pale face. She had a bath towel clutched around her midsection, the two ends clenched in a tight-fisted hold at her chest.
Despite her slenderness, the towel didn't cover as much as it tantalized Mikos with hints and flashes of olive skin and deep crevasses that beckoned his gaze.
Lexi sucked in a startled breath as Mikos closed the distance, and pulled her roughly, almost violently, to him. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his lips hard and searching. Asking a question. The touch of his full lips was a delicious torment. Part warmth, part softness, all demanding.
She must have made some kind of sound for he released her mouth, lifted his head slightly and met her eyes, his gaze searching. Asking. Hoping.
Lexi answered by wrapping her arms around his neck and yanking his head down, pressing her open lips to his. In the back of her mind, she questioned her sanity in what she was about to let happen. For she wanted it as much as Mikos did. And really, why not?
She almost started when she felt his warm hands sliding down her stomach to the swell of her hips and back up again, leaving a fiery trail behind. The towel lay discarded in a puddle of terry at her feet.
His searing kiss trailed a path down the side of her neck, pressing against the hollow of her throat. Could he feel the rapid thud of her pulse under the thin skin?
She slid her hands up under his shirt, splaying her fingers over the warm, no hot, skin. Taking the shirt with her, she moved her hands over his bare skin, her fingertips tingling over each rippling muscle, each hard outline. In a smooth motion, she pulled his shirt up over his head.
Pulling away from his hold, she stood naked beneath his silver gaze. Her nipples pebbled, and she felt her chest flush with heat. Their gazes clashed. Some small part of her recognized he was giving her a final out. What was happening didn't have to happen if she changed her mind.
Lexi lifted her chin and smiled. When he took her in his arms again, she gasped as bare chest met bare chest. Her hands caressed the planes of his back. Oh, God, her fingertips tingled as they danced across his warm skin. She threw back her head as he pressed hot kisses against her neck trailing down to the hollow of her throat.
Her body arched closer. Forget personal zone, she wanted him, every inch of him, against her heated flesh. A moan slipped through her lips. Mikos responded by cupping her breasts in his hands, his thumbs teasing the hardened tips.
She felt her legs give way. The only thing keeping her from puddling to the floor was his hold. One arm swept behind her, and in one smooth, dizzying motion, lifted her into his arms. Two long-ass strides took them to the bed. No gentle deposit, he dumped her on the bed, his body following, pressing her into the pillow top.
Her mind fragmented as he continued his hungry exploration, his hands and lips touching and caressing. Urgency beat a rapid tempo, throbbing in time with the need pulsing between her legs. Lexi reached out, grabbed Mikos's head, pulling him back to her lips. Their gazes met and held, his a molten silver that only increased the urgency she felt to have him inside her. Before she changed her mind. Before the memories banging at the doors to their prison escaped.
He seemed to recognize her emotional state. Shifting himself dead center over her, she felt the tip of his penis touch her lightly. If she hadn't already been lying down, this would have done her in. She thrust upward, bringing him fully inside her with a smooth motion. She couldn't help herself and cried out.
Mikos buried his face in her neck, his hot breath adding to the sizzling currents moving from their joining outward. She gripped his shoulders, feeling her fingernails pierce his skin as she urged an increase in his tempo. He groaned against her skin, the rumble adding to her desire.
Deep inside, she felt a twitch. At the same time, she arched her hips closer, her release matching his, liquid heat pooling from between her legs, spreading into her abdomen and chest. The sweet agony of her orgasm wiped out the real world, just leaving her and Mikos. At the last moment, his gaze slammed into hers again, pulling into the silver depths as her world shattered about her.
His body quivering from the Heaven-reaching height of ecstasy he'd found with Lexi, Mikos stared down at her. At her passion flushed cheeks, her dilated pupils, and the hint of moisture at her temples. She hadn't come back yet. Her expression said she still floated in the clouds. Where Mikos longed to be with her right now.
What had he done?
His shoulder blades twitched with anticipation as he half expected a lightning bolt to shoot from Heaven striking him for his transgression. Nothing. No earth-shattering consequences.
No smiting.
Just him and Lexi.
Peace. Comfort. A sense of home.
Mikos rolled to the side, but pulled her with him holding her cupped in his arms. Her head sank into his chest, the top curling under his chin. Inhaling, he took in her exotic scent, body heat mixed with a spicy aftertaste that left him wanting more.
How should he feel? After all, he'd just forfeited his right to return to Heaven by sleeping with a mortal. Despite what he felt, however undefined, for this particular mortal, the interaction was forbidden. He didn't have the luxury of not knowing the consequences. There was nothing left for him. No return home. After all these years, he'd just given up his goal.
Yet, as he held her in his embrace, he didn't feel loss. He should be reeling with pain, shouldn't he? But he didn't. He felt whole. Complete. Something he hadn't felt before he Fell and not after he Fell when he had his choice of women. One he couldn't imagine ever feeling in Heaven or suspected ever would.
All because of the woman who was stirring in his arms. Lexi pulled her head back. Dreamy eyes met his. He could easily drown in the liquid amber. Offering her a smile, he smoothed back an errant wisp of hair from her damp cheek. Once she came back to herself, how would she react?
With her, her reaction could range from acceptance to rage. Not much in the way of a middle ground with this exasperating human.
"Well, that was...uh...unexpected."
The comment was made in such a dry, matter-of-fact tone, Mikos couldn't tell what she was feeling. Or thinking. Unexpected indeed.
"Do I apologize?" He tried to keep his tone as cool and noncommittal as she did. How successful he was remained to be seen.
"Only if you want to make me mad," she retorted, a wry grin twisting her still swollen lips.
This time she pulled back and away from him. Mikos suddenly felt cold, as if she'd taken all her warmth, and his, with her. He curled his into the pillow as he fought the urge to reach up and pull her back. To feel her warmth again. To feel the peace she gave him.
"No," he finally shook his head. "I'm well acquainted with you when you are angry."
"Well, then, don't say a word. What happened, happened." She shrugged, her slender shoulders rising above the edge of the sheet.
Mikos raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it did."
He said nothing more. What could he tell her about what had happened? For her, it had obviously just been a pleasant interlude. For him, it had been a revelation. A revelation he wasn't sure how he felt about.
He gave her another smile as he left her side completely, swinging his legs over the bed's edge and standing. Space. That's what he needed. Space to consider the ramifications both of his lovemaking with Lexi and his reaction to it.
"I know where the Key is."
In the process of zipping his pants, Mikos froze, his fingers poised over the zipper. His shocked gaze met hers.
Lexi curled her fingers into the sheets, bunching the Egyptian cotton under her hands. She fought with the urge to go to him and drag him back to the bed.
To feel the heat emanating from his body, chasing away the loneliness she hadn't realized she felt so deeply. It wasn't so much the lovemaking, okay, not just the lovemaking.
It was the bottomless peace and satisfaction. The feeling as if she'd never be alone again. Never have to worry about an empty apartment, an empty life.
For once, she hadn't even thought about her foster father from all those years ago. Just like her loneliness, Mikos had banished that ghost as well.
"Lexi?"
"Huh?" Until he said her name she hadn't heard him speak. She took a deep breath, forcing back the emotions that felt so raw right now.
"Did your memories return?" he asked.
"No, no, they didn't." She tripped over the admission.
It was true, she didn't remember. The fact she didn't seemed to bother her now more than it ever had. Was it because of being intimate? Or something else? She didn't like the uncertainty.
"You see, after we got back I, uh..." Lexi darted a quick glance at the shards of glass and wood still lying on the floor below the wall she'd thrown the picture. She didn't want to admit her anger had gotten the best of her.
But on the flip side... "I threw my parents' picture against the wall." She saw his head bob once as if he'd known about her fit of temper. Ignoring the possibility, she walked over to the small side table and picked up the crumbled bit of paper and continued, "I found this with the photograph."
"What is it?"
Lexi sighed. "A letter from my father." Even now, she had a hard time saying the words. A letter. From her dead father. Spouting odd information that she would have chalked up to the ramblings of a crazy man if she hadn't already experienced so much weirdness the last several weeks.
"What did he say?"
Mikos's question didn't feel like it took hold. "Huh, what?"
"What did your father say?" Mikos dutifully repeated, not seeming to mind having to sound like a parrot. Much.
"Oh, sorry." For Pete's sake, Lexi, get it together. "Beyond apologizing for not being with me, he told me how to get the Key." She grabbed his gaze. "And to destroy it."
Why she said it in such a manner, as if she was accusing him of something when he'd been clear all along the Key needed to be destroyed was something she didn't want to think about.
Mikos nodded, his gray eyes alight with satisfaction and excitement. But with nefarious plans? She didn't see that.
"Good. Where is it?"
"At the Church of St. Stanislaus Kostka. In some kind of safe with a combination."
Mikos nodded again, then yanked up the zipper of his jeans and tugged on a black T-shirt, covering all his glorious male skin and rippling muscles. Damn.
"Get dressed. We need to leave immediately. There isn't much time left." He paused and tilted his head. "I'm assuming your father gave you the combination as well."
Lexi nodded. "Yes, it was on the photograph. I'd never seen it before." She shrugged. "Or, if I had, it was just a unimportant series of numbers."
Mikos grinned, the dimples in his cheeks, oh boy, deepening. "May I see it?"
"No."
At first, it appeared her response didn't register. Then as his grin slowly faded, confusion replaced excitement. "No?"
"I don't have it any more. I destroyed the picture." A lump the size of Texas felt as if it had just formed in her throat as she replied. Crap, she really had destroyed the last evidence of her parents, hadn't she?
Not exactly a smart thing, not really. In the concept of protecting the information, a good idea. In the concept of remembering her parents, not such a good idea.
"Lexi, tell me you memorized the combination?"
She scowled at Mikos. "Of course I did, you idiot. I'm not stupid," she said ignoring the fact she'd just slept with an angel. And that maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea she'd ever had.
Relief flooded his expression. "Come on, get dressed."
Lexi lifted her chin. "Not until you leave." Even though she had just let Mikos explore her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and beyond, she wasn't ready to stand in all her nakedness in front of him. How ridiculous was that?
Maybe it was because as earth-shattering as the experience had been for her, other than the tender way he'd held her in his arms in the aftermath, he'd done nothing else to indicate it had been more than just a release of tension and frustration. For her, damn it, it had been so much more. That realization left her feeling vulnerable. Uncertain.
Mikos's eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. Lexi simply tugged the sheets up tighter under her chin and met his confused gaze with a defiant one of her own.
"You want me to leave?"
"Score one for the angel." A little heavy on the sarcasm, much? She took a deep breath. "Mikos, please?"
There, she'd done it. She'd begged. When was the last time she'd said please? Try never. But with Mikos, it felt okay to use the word.
Understanding entered his gaze and he nodded. "I'll see you downstairs. Don't be long." He turned and walked to the bedroom door.
When the door closed behind him, Lexi shoved herself from the bed and padded over to the dresser. As she slipped into a pair of dark jeans, brown cowboy boots and deep navy long sleeved T-shirt, she kept up a constant litany of the combination from her parent's photograph.
She headed for the door and took a final glance at her bed where she'd just spent a mind-blowing time with Mikos. Her attention was caught by something else that made her forget Mikos for an instant. The letter from her father lay on the nightstand.
Walking over to the stand, she picked up the letter and held it gingerly. Fragile in the way old paper can be, she thought about destroying it along with the photograph. Scanning through the words again, she saw nothing that would give any secret away. And, with the picture destroyed, this small square of paper was truly the last thing she possessed of her history.
At her dresser, she opened the drawer and slid the letter underneath her socks. There. She'd still have something. It would have to be enough.
"I think that somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with that decision." Eleanor Roosevelt
After keying in the combination she'd memorized, Lexi stared at the safe. The dull quiet in the church surrounded her, not so much leaving her with a feeling of solitude but more as if the world held its breath. Waiting for what rested in the safe. Waiting to see what she'd do with it.
While Mikos had chatted with the rector to gain them access to the safe---she didn't want to know what he did to show they were legit---she'd stared at the metal box.
Mindful of Mikos's alert attention behind her, she grabbed the handle and turned. Not even a click or squeak of metal on metal disturbed the silence.
She slipped her hand into the safe and her fingers touched upon a silky material. She held her breath as she pulled out the Key. Her first sight of the relic that had caused so much suffering was unlike anything she had anticipated. That's if she had actually anticipated something. She hadn't really known or thought about what the book would look like. Just a book.
Loosely wrapped in some kind of animal hide stretched as fine as thin silk and just as soft, the book seemed incongruously light for all its supposed power. As if something that held so much power should be too heavy to lift.
Her fingers gently separated the edges of the silken substance, revealing the Clavicula Salomonis, the Key of Solomon, the book with spells and incantations to control seventy-two spirits. Demons.
Lexi brushed a finger over the ancient tome's surface, tracing the symbols etched onto the leather binding. Inside, the pages were of an unrecognizable material. Something this old should have been made of papyrus but it wasn't. She couldn't tell what it was.
Whispers of sound seemed to dance up and down her spine leaving behind echoes of ancient promises. While she didn't actually feel herself do it, she felt the press of the book against her chest as she clutched the priceless object to her.
So this was it then. This was the reason her life had changed. This was the reason her parents had died. Why Devyn had died. Why she no longer had a life to go back to.
As she stood there clutching the book, her mind searched her emotions. How did she feel? A sense of relief, maybe that it was over with? A hint of anger that such a small thing had caused so much pain? Maybe even sadness that something she had shared with her parents would soon be gone. Like the picture.
"Lexi, we must go."
Mikos's calm words, spoken in a hush to match the quiet of the church, washed over her in a soothing touch of empathy. Of understanding. Yet, behind that gentle touch, she also heard the slight edge of urgency as if Beliel could any moment appear.
Folding the hide back over the book, Lexi tucked the precious object into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. The rector was nowhere to be found. It was just her and Mikos in the darkened church.
"Now what, Mikos?" She kept her own voice hushed, not wanting the soothing quiet of the church to be broken. She didn't turn to face him. Didn't want him to see the longing in her for what the whispers under the cover promised. Had her ancestors felt the same pull?
"You destroy it." His reply, also pitched low was exactly what she knew he'd say.
Even without turning around, she could feel him close the distance until he was right at her back. Two hands came down gently on her shoulders. Heat seared her skin, the heat of his flesh, a remembrance of her being with him in what felt like a very short time ago. Every atom screamed at her to lean backward into his embrace. To let him take away the temptations. But she didn't. That would have been too easy and she never took the easy path.
"Lexi, let's go. We are running out of time."
She nodded. Yes, they were. Only six hours until midnight. All Hallows Eve, Halloween, or Samhain. Didn't matter what it was called. It was the night spirits walked. If she didn't destroy the Key, it would also be the night demons were set free.
Making sure the backpack fit snugly on her back, Lexi followed after Mikos.
The trip back to Mikos's mansion had seemed a bit surreal. The anxiety over what she carried mixed with the excitement of the evening.
Halloween.
The streets were mobbed with pirates, princesses, witches, monsters and the occasional space alien. Predominant theme this year? Harry Potter of course. Between the fictional wizard and his friends, she also saw a couple of Dementors, Voldemort and even a toddler dressed as Hedwig, Harry's owl.
So she liked Harry Potter. In this case, she definitely went with the masses.
For all of the children, their parents in tow, this was just another Halloween. A night for fun, jokes and eating too much candy. A night where, for just this one time, you could be anyone, or anything, you wanted. The masks and make-up shielded the wearer from truth. Much like the mask which Lexi wore every day of her life.
The one she could feel cracking and peeling away bit by bit. And now, she stood in front of Mikos's fireplace, the Key of Solomon held tightly in her hands feeling as if her very identity lay between the pages.
This book was very different from the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, the one she'd seen knock-offs of on bookshelves innocently hiding among harmless ghost hunting and tarot reading books.
The Key didn't identify the spirits, it told the conjurer how to invoke and control spirits. And how to punish them when they disobeyed. King Solomon, of the Bible King Solomon, had used the book she held in her hands to summon the demons. To make them work for him.
Who knows how long he would have let the spirits free if people hadn't started dying? Despite the power of the Key and its invocations, many of the demons had proven powerful enough to shake off their bonds at times. When one of Solomon's closest friends was killed by a demon, he'd made the decision to imprison the spirits.
Now it was up to her to destroy the Key so that neither Beliel nor any other demon, could use the spells to free the spirits.
Mikos, Mari and Rocky stood behind her in some kind of weird ceremony while they waited for her to toss the Key into the fire. Seemed odd that such a powerful book could be destroyed in such a simple manner. By fire.
She stretched out the Key to the fireplace. Her fingers wouldn't let go. The whispers she'd heard when she first took the Key came back, louder and louder until that's all she could hear. So many temptations were offered. It was as if the Key had looked deep into her soul and plucked out all the things she wanted. Those she admitted. And those she didn't.
To get them, all she had to do was use the Key. To free the bound spirits. Was she tempted? Hell, yes.
"Alexandria."
Like nothing else would, Mikos speaking her full name tore Lexi's attention away from the temptations the spirits represented. She scowled over her shoulder at the unrepentant angel. He met her glare with a blank expression. No disapproval, anger or fear. As if he knew she'd make the right decision.
He was right.
Lexi moved closer to the fire, stretching her hand out over the flames. The heat licked at the top of her hand, not uncomfortable yet.
"I'm thinking you don't want to do that, missy." The masculine drawl startled her. Her fingers convulsively clutched the book, halting her from releasing the Key into the fire. At the same time, a few other things happened.
Mikos swore, a pretty strong swear word considering he was supposed to be an angel. A loud hiss sounded from his other side as Mari joined him. From Rocky---was that stone against stone grinding a growl?
Lexi spun around. Jackson McKay, the man from the bar who seemed to have control over her boss, Howard, leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb. His crooked grin didn't mask the tension showing in the lines at the corner of his eyes.
Before anyone could react, Mari leaped at Jackson. His wide eyes flashed alarm before she was on him. Her fingers wrapped around his throat as she shoved him against the now closed door to Mikos's library. Jackson winced when his back slammed against the wood.
"Way to go, doll!" Rocky cheered.
From a safe distance atop the desk.
Away from Jackson.
Chicken, much?
"Mari!" Along with her name, Mikos snapped out a command in that old language. Was it to hold back the vampy demon or encourage her to continue?
Her fingers still tight on Jackson's throat, Mari looked back over her shoulder. Despite seeing the demon in her fight mode before, Lexi felt a flash of primitive fear sweep through her at the raw power and rage in the demon's expression.
Mari hissed something back at Mikos. Not in Latin. Something that even to Lexi's untrained and inexperienced ears sounded very old. Ancient even. Maybe even something never spoken by humans before.
"This is the human I told you about," Mari said, this time in English.
Lexi stared at Jackson, noting his bluish face. "Ah, Mari, you're killing him."
Mari looked back at him. Her lips were curled back from her teeth, the long fangs looking even longer. As if he were a fly and she was the little boy looking to squash him. Forget pulling off his wings. Mari wanted the crunch of Jackson's bones under her heels.
"Mari, let him go."
With one final hiss at Jackson, she released the tight hold she had on his neck, and took a few steps back. He rubbed his neck, his lips twisted into a wry grin.
"Remind me never to make you mad," he quipped.
Mari snarled, but didn't move or say anything.
"Tell me why I stopped her from killing you," Mikos spoke, his tone cool and impersonal. Lexi knew from past experience, this was Mikos at his angriest. He may have interceded, but he was furious.
Jackson jerked his head at Lexi. "I have a message for her."
A brow arched. He had a message for her? "What," she said, "did your, uh, employer want to make me another offer?"
A crooked grin pulled at his lips. "I know, dumber than a box full of hammers, isn't it?" He shook his head. "Actually, he sent me to tell you he offers you a trade."
"Your employer."
"I think you know him as Beliel."
Lexi sucked in a deep breath, but before she could respond, Mari hissed again. Swinging her gaze over to the demon, Lexi's own eyes widened at the flaming red of the woman's eyes as she glowered at Jackson. Who appeared totally unconcerned he was inches away from a rather violent death.
"You work for Beliel?" Again Mikos's calm tone spoke volumes for someone who knew him. Or bothered to listen.
Satisfaction filled Lexi at the expression on Jackson's face. The cocky cowboy had the pinched look of worry lining his face. She gave him props for being smarter than he'd recently appeared if he recognized the danger he was in. About damn time.
He shrugged, a hitch of his shoulders that tried for unconcern but settled for stiff. "That's the name he gave me." Jackson cocked his head. "You know him?"
"What a naïve human," Mari sneered, her fangs retracted but the gleam of her teeth shone through her lips. "You have no idea who you work for. What you work for."
She turned her head to face Mikos, her body still pointing toward Jackson as if he so much as twitched in a bad way, she'd be all over him. And this time, Lexi didn't think Mikos could stop her.
"He could be linked."
Mikos nodded. "Show me the back of your neck."
Jackson choked. "The back of my neck?" he parroted, his gaze shooting between the three of them. "You want me to show you the back of my neck? What the hell for?"
"Just do it," Mari snarled.
Jackson crossed his arms over his broad chest and lifted his chin. "Listen, you may be a looker, but if you take one step near my neck, I'll..."
"You'll what?" Mari interrupted, curiosity gleaming in her red gaze.
"I'll be forced to kiss you."
Lexi broke out into laughter. She couldn't help herself. Mari's face had paled then flushed with red. Almost enough red to overshadow those scarlet eyes. Even though she hadn't known the demon long, she'd figured not much could disconcert the lovely redhead.
And now this. Even in this tense situation, Jackson was cocky enough to tease the vampy demon. The cowboy was either stupid or clever. She was beginning to like him. Unless he was possessed by a demon. In which case, what she liked wouldn't matter. If Mari didn't kill him, Mikos would. So much for angels being peaceful.
"Enough." Mikos snapped out. "You will show me the back of your neck. If you don't, what Mari could do to you will be the least of your worries."
Glares clashed as both testosterone-laden men---one angel, one human---glared at each other. Finally, Jackson shrugged again and turned around. "Fine, don't have a conniption. Makes no difference to me."
Sandy brown hair brushed the color of his shirt, he pulled it aside. Mikos jerked his head at Mari. At Jackson's side, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it down ignoring his exclamation of protest. But he didn't move.
Not stupid then.
Smooth tanned skin beckoned their attention. Lexi had no idea what Mari and Mikos sought, but to her eyes, Jackson's skin appeared unmarked and unbroken.
Mari looked back at Mikos. Was that disappointment in her expression? Good Lord, the woman was ruthless. It was almost as if she wanted Jackson to be possessed by Beliel.
"Are you done?"
Mikos nodded, and Mari stepped back. This time, she went over to stand closer to Lexi. Great, now she had a bodyguard.
Jackson jerked his shirt back in place. "Now that the fun and games are over with, can I give my message?"
"Yeah, yeah, the trade." Lexi snorted. "What does Beliel have I could possibly want? He's already offered me a new life."
"I'm pretty sure he hasn't offered you this." Jackson's mouth took on an unpleasant twist.
He reached inside his shirt's breast pocket and pulled out a picture. "He said he wanted the object you took and he'd give you," Jackson turned the picture around to face Lexi, "her."
For a minute Lexi's mind seemed to play tricks on her. The full-figured blonde, her arms wrapped around a boy and girl appeared familiar, yet not familiar.
"Who is...?" her voice trailed off when it suddenly hit her between the eyes with the force of a hammer who the woman was.
"Christ, that's Sam."
Her knees threatening to give way, Lexi staggered back a few steps until the backs of her legs bumped into the couch. She let momentum carry her backwards until she flopped into the soft cushions. The amulet on her chest flashed hot, then chilled to ice. She hadn't felt such a strong reaction from the necklace since she'd died.
"Who is this Sam?" Mikos asked.
Lexi looked up at him, wondering if her expression was a bleak as she felt. "She's a waitress from the club where I used to work."
"You were friends?"
She shook her head. "No, not really. At least I didn't think so."
"Why then would Beliel take her?"
"I don't know."
As Lexi watched a pained acknowledgment flashed into his dark eyes. As if he'd made a necessary decision yet the consequences from the decision left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Go back to Beliel and tell him no deal."
Lexi gasped, feeling her eyes widen. "What?" She shot to her feet and stood toe to toe with Mikos.
Planting both hands on her hips, she leaned in until she and Mikos had mere inches between them. Even in her anger, she was too freaking conscious of his nearness. The heat of his body. The earthy scents, mixed with musk. She tried to throttle the dizzying current racing through her in reaction to Mikos's closeness.
By the sudden flare of his nostrils and dilating pupils, she suspected he felt the same. That made it harder to remain indifferent.
"It is a trap," he said, his voice rough.
"So?"
His brows shot up. "This is a ruse designed to get you and the Key. We cannot allow that to happen for the sake of one mortal."
She didn't like the way he said mortal, the way the word seemed to ooze over his tongue as if it were a thing of disgust. Something distasteful. Just like Mari used to do.
"Not your decision. I'm the Defender."
"And I'm your mentor."
"What difference does that make? I'm not letting him use her against me."
"He's already doing that." Mikos rubbed his jaw. "Look at you, Lexi. You're ready to go running off, to sacrifice the Key for one soul when the souls of millions are in your hands."
She felt a scream of frustration at the back of her throat, begging to be released. A part of her recognized Mikos was right. That she did risk so much for one person. But after Devyn how could he not see her side?
"Mikos, I can't leave her to die."
Empathy glittered behind the sparking silver of his eyes. "I understand." His voice was soft, gentle. She saw his fingers clench into fists at his side. "You leave me with no choice."
He took a deep breath then in chanting undertones, spoke a series of words that had absolutely no meaning to her but obviously they did to Mari. The woman's eyes widened and she turned her startled expression on Mikos.
"What did you do?" Even as she asked, Lexi suspected she knew exactly what he'd done.
"No one can leave. Not without my say so."
Lexi felt her mouth open and close while she sought the right words to say. She couldn't find any. Instead, she fixed Mikos with an expression she was sure showed every betrayal she currently felt.
Turning on her heel, she shoved through the door, ignoring Mari's soft call.
Mikos heard her feet pounding up the stairs. He sighed and his head dropped.
"Mikos. What about the Key?" Mari spoke into the awkward silence left after Lexi's departure. It was if she took energy with her, leaving him feeling lost. Lonely.
"I'll let her hold on to it," he held up a hand, "for now. It will be safe behind my wards." Mikos jerked his head at Rocky. "Stay with Lexi."
"Sure, boss, no problem." Between one breath and the next, Rocky winked from sight.
Mikos turned to Jackson. "You may go back and tell Beliel he will not have the Key. Or the Defender."
Jackson lifted a hand. "Uh, I can't do that."
"You can't? Why?"
"Because I quit." His faint smile held a touch of sadness. "I may be a thief, but I draw the line at kidnapping and torturing women."
"Then why did you come?" Mari asked, her tone curious.
Mikos wondered the same thing. If the human was right, that he'd had no part in the woman's kidnapping, then what would it gain him to be the one delivering the message? After all, he could easily have been killed as soon as he said his part.
"I wanted to help you get her back." He shrugged. "Looks like I'll be doing that by myself."
Mikos saw incredulity sweep into Mari's eyes. He had to admit to being shocked at the human's comment as well. "You thought to join our team?"
"Yeah."
Mikos nodded.
"You believe him?" Mari's voice rose in surprise.
"Immaterial. What I believe is that if he is lying, I will kill him myself."
"Excuse me, but him would like to participate in the conversation where his life is decided. Besides, you decided not to trade," Jackson's tongue appeared to trip over the last word, "for the girl."
Mikos lifted a brow. "I didn't say we would not rescue the girl. I just said we would not trade Lexi or the Key for her."
"Ah, I see," Jackson said. His lips twisted into a crooked grin. "Count me in."
"Once I have assured Lexi is sleeping, the three of us will go to the girl." Mikos's lips twisted into a wry grin. "I know our stubborn Defender will not destroy the Key unless she knows the girl is safe."
With that, Mikos turned and left the library, leaving Jackson and Mari alone. Staring at each other. Jackson could tell from the uncertain look in the woman's light colored eyes, she wasn't sure how to react to his change of sides.
Since he wasn't sure he'd made the smartest decision, he couldn't blame her. He knew his decision was the right one, just not whether it was a smart one.
He resisted the urge to rub his neck again, in the places where her warm hands had squeezed until spots danced before his eyes.
"Mikos is more easily fooled then I am." The woman Mikos had called Mari moved around him.
No, not moved. Stalked. Her sliding steps wove a sinuous path around him. A part of him wanted to drop to his knees and howl like a dog, the other part wanted to run like hell.
He didn't know what she was.
The strength in her chokehold had been as if he'd had steel bars clenched around his throat. In fact, if she hadn't released him when she did, he suspected his throat would have crushed, snapped like twigs.
"Glad to hear it." He figured the best defense was being annoying. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Everything," she hissed. "If at any moment I feel you are about to betray us, I will kill you." She stopped her stalking and leaned in. "And your death will be slow and painful."
"Ah, honey, I didn't know you cared so much you'd feel pain at my death."
Her striking, if a bit eerie, eyes widened. Obviously she wasn't used to wordplay. For him, this got better and better. Needling her was going to provide him a great deal of entertainment.
"You make jokes, human. Is your life worth so little?" Curiosity softened her face. "Interesting."
"I never joke about my life. I just don't take it as seriously as others do." He stared hard at her. "But that doesn't mean I accept whatever is dealt. I'm a firm believer in running my own rodeo."
Mari tilted her head, not backing down from his penetrating stare. Impressive. This was one wild filly, soft and feminine with a backbone of steel. He was going to enjoy working with her.
If he could keep her away from his neck.
"I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is the victory over self."
Aristotle
To Lexi, the deserted warehouse wasn't quite deserted. Just like that freaking barn, the interior of the structure had an unused appearance except for the light in the far corner that said something was going on. A reminder of the last time she'd been in an old building.
Despite the protection Mikos had apparently put on his home, she'd had no difficulty getting out. Was it her or was it the protections hadn't been solid enough? If it was her, there was something to be said for an ability to dodge magic.
Lexi took a step, then another and stopped. The vision of Devyn rushed into her mind. Her feet felt as if they were glued to the floor. She couldn't move. Didn't want to move any closer. What if she saw Samantha in the same position as Devyn? There was no way she could handle another death on her hands.
"Doll, this is such a bad idea." The grating voice provided some sort of comfort.
Ah, the downside to her escape. She hadn't wanted Rocky to come. In fact, when he'd popped into her room, catching her in the act of buckling and tying all the weapons she owned to her body, she'd wished for the ability to make him disappear for good.
He'd threatened to go to Mikos, but when he didn't immediately follow through, Lexi had sensed that maybe she had an ally. Or at least she would until he figured out what she truly planned to do.
Turning her head, she eyed Rocky who had his customary perch on her shoulder. "Yeah," she agreed.
"Then what are we doing here?"
Lexi opened her mouth, then shut it, her lips pressed together for a second. Finally, she sighed. "I don't have a freaking clue."
"Great. That makes me feel so much better."
"Glad to help."
In silence, both stared at the far off dim glow. She had no idea what thoughts raced through the shapeshifter's mind. Her own took on disturbing twists, all coming back to focus on the last time she'd checked out a light in a dark building.
"So," Rocky was the first to break the quiet. "We go get Mikos now?"
"No, we don't."
"I don't get it, Lexi. Mikos can take care of himself." His tone suggested a strong hint of reproach.
"I know."
"Then what is the big deal?" This time irritation echoed in the gravelly voice.
It was time. She sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. "Rocky, it's not about whether he can take care of himself," she said. "It's about him stopping what I'm about to do."
She barely noted Rocky's soft grumble. Had he understood? It didn't matter whether he did or not. He couldn't stop her. Another person would not die because of Lexi.
She'd lost so many. Each death chipped away at her heart. So many freaking pieces were missing, she often wondered how she managed to live. But that was the point wasn't it? She wasn't really living. Going through the motions of living, eating, sleeping, breathing. Not feeling. Not caring.
Yet, every time she opened her heart to another human being, that human died. Her parents. Devyn. And now Samantha. Did that make her unlovable or cursed? Either explanation didn't matter, didn't lessen on inescapable truth. Their deaths were her fault. And the book she held in her hand.
She headed to the dim glow, her steps sober but confident. Any hesitation she felt was at her betrayal of Mikos, not for what she was about to do. Or, rather, what could happen.
"Doll, what are you going to do?" Rocky whispered, his tone both admiring and concerned. What a combination.
"I'm going to give the bastard what he wants."
For a moment the silence from her shoulder made her think Rocky left. Lexi resisted the urge to check. Despite being a rock, she never felt him on her shoulder. Then he sighed, a puff of air brushing against her neck.
"Rocky, it's not what you think." Or was it? She hadn't decided. "Trust me." But he didn't need to know that.
She felt, rather than saw his slight nod. They reached the glow. Lexi took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. Her scan of the small room immediately located Samantha.
Relief flooded her body, taking away some of the tension. Samantha was still alive. In fact, she was actually more than alive. She looked angry, defiant and determined as hell, despite being pinned, her legs and arms in the same position as Devyn's had been.
Lexi took in the rest of the room, noting the altar and items on top of and surrounding the cloth-covered table.
"What under Heaven's light are you doing here?"
Taken aback, Lexi looked around the room. There was no one else here. Just her and Sam. The petite blonde had fixed an exasperated glare on Lexi that seemed at odds with the fact Lexi was there to rescue the other dancer.
"Excuse me?"
"Lexi, get out of here. It's a trap."
Lexi stared. No. Scratch that. How about she gaped, gawked with mouth-dropping shock at the blonde, sure she'd left Earth and was now in an alternative reality. Was that Sam talking as if she knew exactly what was going on? Where was the fear and terror? All Lexi saw was rage and embarrassment.
"I've come to rescue you."
"Yes, I can see that but why? Didn't Mikos tell you this was a trap? Agrigorockie, what are you doing here? Of all the irresponsible---"
"Hello? Who are you and what did you do with Sam?" Lexi was beginning to feel she was in a reality show's version of body-snatchers meets Laurel and Hardy.
"I am the one you call Sam. Kind of." For an instant wistfulness stole into her expression then she sighed. "We don't have time for this. You need to leave. Now."
"Ah, Lexi, perhaps we should---" Rocky growled in agreement from her shoulder.
"Lexi, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
The icy tone shattered the darkness. Lexi jumped. Her heart raced, then settled back into her chest with a thump. Oh, crap. So freaking soon?
She didn't turn around. Of course she knew that tone, the cool clip of the words, and the underlying suggestion of barely controlled passion.
"I'm taking care of the problem."
"I told you we would not trade you or the Key."
This time she spun around, facing him. Jackson and Mari stood to Mikos' left and right. She couldn't help the sharp inhale at her angel's appearance. Oh. My. God. Mikos was in full battle armor. Dark metal covered his chest, shoulders, forearms and shins. He looked like a Greek soldier, complete with shield and sword. The only thing missing were his wings.
Shaking off her reaction to his attire, Lexi lifted her chin. "You did. And I told you I would not let another person die because of me."
"Yet, you would destroy an entire race?"
"I told you I didn't want this gig. You didn't listen. Michael didn't listen---"
Clapping cut her off in mid-sentence and yanked both their attentions off each other. From the shadows at the edge of the light, Beliel stepped into view. He wore a scarlet robe that covered his body from under his chin down to the floor to brush against the concrete. The crimson of the robe exactly matched the crimson in his eyes.
"How very entertaining." Sardonic humor curled his lips. "She is very different from the other defenders, is she not?" he walked over to the makeshift altar, the bronze jar sitting dead center and in front of the dangling body of Sam.
"The others would not have concerned themselves with the death of one innocent," he continued, "knowing the lives of all mortals hung in the balance."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm special." Lexi rolled her eyes. "So what? Let the girl go and I'll give you the Key."
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mikos give her a sidelong glance of utter disbelief. And horror. The same expressions were mirrored on Mari's face except the demon looked as if she was about to leap on Lexi at any second. Great. Did they think so little of her that she'd risk everything? Ignoring the scoffing voice inside her head, she continued, "Let her go. Now."
"Lexi, I cannot let you give the Key to Beliel."
Was that pain, and disappointment in Mikos's voice? She steeled herself against the emotions at the idea he might be hurt arose in her. Later, if she survived, she'd deal with hurting him.
"Mikos, I have to." She took a chance, pulling her gaze from Beliel to focus on Mikos's silver eyes. "Trust me."
She could see the struggle in the angel's eyes before he finally nodded. Mari let out a gasp of surprise. He turned to her and shook his head. Her lips pressed together, but she didn't move. Mikos may have yielded. However, his posture didn't. If anything, it stiffened more, becoming larger and full in appearance. She was gratified to see he kept the greatsword at his side instead of at hers. For a minute, she wondered if he would use it on her if she tried to give Beliel the Key.
God, she hoped not. She shook off the thought, not needing the negativity it left in her already jittery nerves. A bark of laughter yanked her attention from Mikos.
"How touching," Beliel said. "Foolish, mortal. You care for Mikos, don't you?" The demon's lips curled into a sneer. "You have no idea who, what, he is, do you?"
Lexi sucked in a quiet, but deep breath. Where was the damn demon going with this? Of course, she knew who, what, Mikos was. An angel.
Strong, militant and tender, not anything like the Landon character, but still an angel. A beacon of hope. Of faith. And all that stuff that until recently, she believed no longer existed. Contrary to what she'd just hinted to Mikos.
She cast a quick glance at the silent man beside her. He had absolutely no expression of any kind on his face. No wrinkles of confusion, no righteous anger at the possible besmirching of his character and above all, no concern in the deep pools of the shimmering silver in his eyes. Nothing.
She turned back to Beliel. That smug expression on his face didn't bode well with whatever he had up his sleeve, metaphorically speaking since he didn't have a sleeve. "What kind of game are you playing?"
"No game, mortal. Just the truth." He cocked a head at Mikos. "You remember truth, don't you, Phoenix?"
"For Pete's sake," Lexi said, exasperation making her interrupt Beliel's posturing. "Just spit it out. I'm tired of your blathering, and I don't have all day."
A point of fact, she didn't even have an hour much less a day. Some instinct told her the midnight hour, the darkest time of the time was fast approaching. It was as if an internal alarm rang a shrill refrain through her mind. All she had to do was destroy the Key, right?
Sure, sounded simple enough if she didn't have the looming specter of Samantha stretched out as Devyn had been.
"Fine, you want the truth? Are you sure you can handle it?"
"For Pete's sake!" Exasperation filled her voice. "What are you doing, reenacting Jack Nicholson from A Few Good Men? Get on with it."
"Your dear Mikos is not an angel." Beliel twitched a glance at Mikos. Triumph filled the red eyes. "Oh, he used to be. Like me. Like her," he said gesturing at Mari. "Until he was kicked out of Heaven."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Mikos is a fallen angel. A demon if you will. Just like me."
For a minute, as the concrete seemed to flow and shift around her feet threatening to knock her off balance, Lexi stared at Beliel, sure her expression was wide with horror shining in the depths.
Mikos was a fallen angel? A demon? Like Beliel?
Before this, the thought Mikos was a Fallen much less a concern that the Fallen were considered demons crossed her mind. Sure, Marisol had identified herself as a fallen angel, a demon, but she didn't suppose it had actually stuck with her.
Half afraid to meet Mikos's eyes, Lexi slowly faced him, starting with his chest and then lifting to his face. What she saw caused disbelief to knock the strength from her legs. She half wobbled. He put out a hand as if to assist her, but she jerked back.
"Mikos?" she whispered, not having the strength to speak louder. "Is this true? Are you a fallen angel? Are you like---" she gestured, "---him?"
Her cinnamon-shaded eyes pleaded with Mikos to say no. To deny the truth he could see building behind the vibrant pale amber. He wished more than anything he could.
"Yes," he said.
She paled, her olive skin losing any semblance of color. "You lied to me?" As the words left her mouth, her skin flushed to a vivid scarlet, making the copper of her eyes dominate her face.
He could have offered an explanation. Could have told her that he'd started as a fallen angel but then redeemed. He could have offered any number of reasons for why he never told her. Including the fact he hadn't ever lied. He'd simply not offered her the truth about what he was.
Instead, he did nothing. Said nothing. Which likely made the revelation even more damning in her eyes.
"Brilliant!" Satisfaction pursed Beliel's lips. "You see, Lexi, you thought you were on the side wearing the white hat. Instead, neither side is white or black. More like an elusive shade of gray."
Mikos took his gaze off Lexi for a brief moment and scowled at Beliel. "You twist the truth, demon."
"What truth? That you are a demon?" This from Lexi. Her voice sounded odd as if she struggled to either stop from screaming or crying. Underneath the armor protecting his body, he had nothing protecting his heart.
Mikos slowly turned his head. Her eyes glittered. Anger or tears? He still couldn't tell.
"Or the truth about you being an angel?" she continued. "Which truth, Mikos?" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Beliel's right. I am a fool. A fool to believe. To let my guard down. To trust again."
A raucous caw sounded nearby. Malphas, the feather-wearing, yellow-eyed demon she'd encountered before stepped from the shadows. "This is delightful. I haven't had this much fun in centuries."
"Kiss my ass, feather-head." At this point, Lexi didn't care about pissing off demons. All she cared about was Mikos's lying. His betrayal. He was just like the others. So, where did that leave her?
"What do you want?" she continued. Might as well finish it.
"Oh, I think you know." Red glittered. Beliel leaned forward, anticipation and excitement glowing. "I want the Key." One corner of his lips lifted. "And I want you. In exchange for her." He swept an arm in Sam's direction.
"Damn it, Lexi, don't do it." Sam snarled interrupting any response Lexi might have made. The woman's eyes narrowed as she glared at Beliel. "My death means nothing."
She paused as if noticing the incredulous look Lexi gave her. "Not even for my kids. If you give him what he wants, they won't have a life anyway."
"Enough!" Beliel snapped. His dark skin seemed even darker. "Defender, what is your answer?"
Lexi hesitated. Good grief, she actually hesitated. The pain mixed with anger in Sam's voice spoke volumes. She was willing to give up her life, leaving her kids without a mother, just to save the rest of her miserable human race.
"Fine." Beliel ground out the word between his teeth. "Say good-bye, Sam." His gaze darted to Sam. The chains holding her arms and legs snapped and the woman fell.
Lexi gasped. Mikos leaped for Sam, his wings snapping into view. He caught her about the waist before she dropped into the dark swirling mass that had suddenly appeared below her.
His great wings pounded the air in a powerful beat. It seemed as if their momentum slowed but then even faster, the pair plummeted into the dark pit.
Lexi screamed out Mikos's name. Oh, God, no, not another one. Not Mikos. She didn't care what he was before, she knew what he was now. In her heart, she'd always known. How could she have been so stupid?
She started to rush to the pit, but Beliel stepped in front of her. "Give me the Key," he said, his voice raging as if composed of thunder.
"No," Lexi said, shaking her head and backing away. "You just killed Sam and Mikos. You think I'm ever going to give you the Key? No freaking way."
Before he could anticipate her actions, Lexi feinted to the right. When he shifted his body to follow, she spun and leaped to the left, dodging around him. She headed for the pit.
She'd take the damn book over the edge. Wherever it went, it couldn't be good so there was little to no chance she'd be followed.
A shout from Beliel behind her only strengthened her resolve. He sounded pissed. Good. She took a quick look over her shoulder. Jackson and Mari were frozen in place, obviously having tried to stop the demon from getting to her. Thank you, she breathed silently. Mia reached the pit's edge, feeling the darkness reaching out for her, tugging at her willpower.
She took a step forward, her foot reaching out over into the nothingness. A flash of white caught her attention. Two figures burst from the pit. One in pure white, the other dark but edged with silver.
With a cry of alarm, Lexi tripped backward and fell, her butt hitting the cement. Sharp pain traveled up her spine.
"Heavens above, I hate that accursed place." Sam stood erect, brushing her hands down the long white robe she now wore. She frowned as she looked at Jackson and Mari. "Well, that won't do," she said and swept a hand in their direction. Both gasped as they were released from whatever had turned them into statutes.
Mari snarled. In her hands, a sword suddenly appeared.
"Hold, demon," Sam said. Mari growled, but stopped and looked at Sam. "Take the human and go."
Without argument, Mari grabbed Jackson's arm and both disappeared. Sam smiled and nodded.
From her sitting position, Lexi stared at Sam and her petite form covered in the type of garment angels in Hollywood or in paintings wore.
When Sam met Lexi's gaze, the serene expression, touched by a hint of humor further spun her world. What happened to the waitress? Before she could demand an explanation, the clash of metal upon metal tore her attention from Sam's unusual appearance.
Scrambling to her feet, Lexi faced the noise. Her heart thudded to a stuttering stop, then galloped. Her dark angel, the one she thought had sacrificed his life for Sam, faced off against Beliel.
She wanted to go bash Mikos's head.
Or at least, kick him in the shin for scaring her. Damn him.
Ignoring the pain in her ass, Lexi took a step toward Mikos. At the hand on her shoulder she froze and looked down at the pale hand resting on her shoulder.
"No, Lexi, this is for Mikos to do."
Was that Sam? It sounded like Sam, yet didn't. The crystal, chime-like tone had a familiar ring. The hand fell away and Lexi turned. "Who are you?"
"She is Gabrael," Rocky said. The shapeshifter sat on Sam's shoulder. No, not Sam. Gabrael. The awe and respect in Rocky's tone said this woman was more than just a woman.
Gabrael smiled at Lexi, her brilliant blue eyes glittering as if infused with diamonds.
Was everyone in on a secret except Lexi? And was everyone someone else?
"This is unbelievable. You aren't even Sam."
"Part of me was. While I was in human form I was Sam."
"And your kids?"
A sheepish hitch of her shoulders. "No," Gabrael admitted and tilted her head at Rocky. "Imps if you will. Like Rocky."
Lexi glared at the shapeshifter. "Did you know who she was?"
"No." A wondering look entered his silver eyes. "She is Gabrael."
Like that explained everything.
Lexi opened her mouth to say something that would make things clear, but the clash of metal reminded her this was so not the time or place for discussion.
Not with her angel involved in a battle with an uber-demon. Ignoring Sam/Gabrael, Lexi turned around. She placed a hand on her kubotan and sanjiegun. Despite this battle supposedly being Mikos's alone, if he seemed to need help, no force on Earth or in Heaven would stop her from going to his aid.
It turned out she didn't have to. A front kick jolted Beliel's sword, tearing it from the demon's hands. The long sword tumbled end-over-end, the metal flashing in the lights, before it came to a clattering stop. Both feet planted firmly, Mikos loomed over Beliel, his own greatsword poised for a killing strike.
"No!"
The voice rang out into the warehouse, a sharp bark of sound reverberating through Lexi's head. She whirled to face the new threat.
Cold rage filled the face of the man standing in front of Mikos and the fallen Beliel. Blond hair tumbled in waves about his neck and shoulders. Black eyes as soulless as a shark's eyes gleamed as they focused on Mikos.
Lexi sucked in a quiet gasp. She knew her eyes had to be wide enough to drive a semi through. The new man was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Really, not just pretty, not masculine, but beautiful. Perfection beautiful. God-like. Lexi swallowed around a suddenly dry throat.
"Lucifer," Mikos said and bent his head, without removing his sword from Beliel's neck.
Lucifer? That gorgeous man was the Devil? Where were the horns? The forked tail? The red skin? Lexi knew she was thinking in clichés and after what she'd seen in the last several weeks, the Devil not looking like the Devil shouldn't be a surprise.
But still, for Pete's sake, the Devil was stunning.
And what was that in Mikos's voice? Respect? For the Devil?
Lucifer jerked his head at Beliel. "He is not yours to punish."
Lexi felt her eyes widen when she saw Mikos hesitate. "Mikos, what are you doing?"
He glanced at Lexi then turned back to Lucifer. What had been in her dark angel's eyes? Did he warn her? Threaten her? Tell her to piss off? Or maybe he just wanted her to trust him. Like she'd asked him to trust her about the Key.
When had she started thinking of him as hers? Don't be stupid, Lexi, she told herself. You started thinking of him as yours almost from the first time you saw him.
Lucifer swung his soulless gaze toward her. Lexi sucked in a breath, feeling the intense. Wasn't the Devil supposed to be fiery? This man was everything but. If she'd seen him on the streets, she would never have guessed he was more than a businessman. Until he turned those black eyes on her.
"You are the Defender?" He said it as if he asked her a question, yet she sensed he knew exactly who she was. So she didn't respond. Neither did she drop her gaze.
"You look like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."
Her mouth dropped open. She felt it fall. She couldn't help it. Of all the things the Ruler of Hell could have said, the comparison to her parents defied comprehension. All semblance of speech fled, leaving her swallowing convulsively to wet a dry throat.
After dropping what amounted to a bombshell to Lexi, Lucifer turned back to Mikos. "I cannot let you destroy him."
"You know what he tried to do. What he'll try to do again."
"Yes."
"Then why do I let him go?"
"Because he is my son."
Good grief. Lexi was beginning to feel she was in a Hollywood thriller, as revelation after revelation sucked the breath from her body. Beliel was the Devil's son? Sure, she'd known he was a demon, but his son?
Looking into Mikos's eyes, she could tell he hadn't known who Beliel really was. So, secrets are even kept in Heaven and Hell. Interesting.
A stirring off to the side. Malphas slowly got to his feet, his expression dazed and confused. He swung his head around, his dull stare locking onto Lucifer.
For a minute, Lexi wasn't sure his mind had truly registered who he scowled at. When it hit him, the feathers on his skin flattened and his yellow eyes paled to a washed out, sickly puke.
"Morningstar," he breathed, the scratch of his tone screeching its way up Lexi's spine. He fell back to his knees and bowed his head. Terror, pure and simple, in every abject line of his body.
"You, on the other hand, mean nothing to me."
With a sweep of his arm, Lucifer shot a wave of darkness at Malphas who squawked in alarm. His form wavered just before the darkness slammed into him. Yellow eyes widened. His mouth opened in a silent shriek.
Lexi resisted the urge to run screaming from the warehouse. Even though Mikos half stood between her and Lucifer, the cold execution of the yellow-eyed demon threatened to leave every nerve in her body screaming at her to beat feet from this place.
An agonized expression of confusion, mixed with doubt, mixed with rage etched deep lines on Mikos's face. His silver eyes blazed, lit from behind with something Lexi could only identify as faith.
"Mikos, why are you hesitating?" She finally found her voice. "He killed Devyn. He tried to kill you and Sam."
Well, actually, he wouldn't have succeeded with Sam since she was an angel. Mikos turned those silver orbs on Lexi. The reflected agony of his indecision tore at her already much abused heart.
Mikos saw his pain reflected in Lexi's cinnamon-shaded eyes. She didn't understand---he didn't expect her to. One did not go against the Ruler of Hell without weighing all the consequences. If Beliel were truly Morningstar's son, killing him would upset the balance in such a disastrous manner it was likely mankind would be totally destroyed. And Mikos knew that couldn't be permitted.
So, really, there was only one decision. A decision with its own consequences.
He turned back to face Morningstar. It almost hurt to gaze upon the countenance of the former angel who Mikos had once worshipped.
"I am within my rights to defend the Balance," Mikos said. "Beliel's actions are in direct violation of the agreement."
He pulled back his greatsword and moved away from the demon. "Morningstar, you are assuming responsibility for Beliel's actions."
Not a question, more of statement, yet Lucifer nodded. Anger mixed with relief gleamed. Mikos knew Lucifer's honor, such that it was, would owe for the life of his son. Being beholden to anyone was not Lucifer's way. Especially to one he'd once counted as a friend.
Beliel staggered to his feet, his own red eyes ablaze with rage. He opened his mouth to say something. Lucifer slapped a hand down on his son's shoulder effectively silencing whatever Beliel had been about to say. Instead, a grimace of pain flooded his face. He bowed his head.
As powerful as he was, and wanted to be, he was still less than nothing in power to Lucifer. Wisps of smoke trailed upward from under Lucifer's grip on his son's shoulder.
Hell's ruler nodded at Mikos. Both demons, father and son, faded, their forms swirling into oily, dark and dank shadows. Mikos kept his gaze locked onto Beliel's as the demon shifted. The red eyes promised something.
A return.
And revenge.
After a soft pop of sound, silence filled the deserted warehouse. Even the altar accoutrements disappeared, leaving no sign that anything potentially world shattering had happened.
Lexi stared at the empty space, her mouth resting on the floor. At least that's how she felt. That was it? The Devil came, took his son who'd killed Devyn and her professor, and was allowed to simply leave? What kind of justice was that?
"Not justice, Lexi, balance."
The luminous voice came from behind Lexi. She turned. Like a curtain being pulled away from her mind, something clicked. Became clear. Gabrael was an angel. A full-fledged, spot on angel of the Touched by an Angel kind. Who could obviously read minds.
"When I want to."
"Stop that." A bark of sound. Lexi didn't have more than that right now.
"I apologize." Gabrael's gentle smile widened. "It just seems easier to reply to your thoughts than wait until the words are spoken. Much quicker that way."
"But way more freaky," Lexi snarled. "So, what's the big deal then?" Another thought occurred to her. "What was this then? A freaking test?" She held up a hand. "Don't tell me Devyn's death was part of the test."
The light in Gabrael's eyes dimmed. "No, your friend's death was not part of the test. We never thought he'd go that far."
"But you still let him off the hook for her death."
"Lexi."
She snapped a glance at Mikos who made a brief shake of his head. Obviously telling her not to push Gabrael. Yeah right. Like she'd suddenly learned to listen.
"Yes," Gabrael said.
Lexi puffed out a breath of air. Her bangs bounced, brushing against her forehead in a spider-web tickling sensation. God, she hated cryptic statements. "That doesn't make any sense."
"It will." The tender smile was back on the lovely angel's face. "Later." She looked at Mikos. "Phoenix, you've done well," she smiled, a soft stretch of her lips.
At that moment, the deep gray of the warehouse seemed to lighten. A benign glow infused the interior, bathing the dirty structure with a mellow light, a dust of brightness.
Then, like the beam from the movie Ghost, a white shaft arrowed at Mikos enveloping him in a tranquil glow. His form seemed to shimmer a bit. But it was his eyes, not the obvious stairway to Heaven that had her transfixed.
First an expression of wonderment softened the silver depths and before her astonished gaze, lightened to a pale blue. Not silver, nor washed out, more like a pure spun snowflakes.
Even as she watched, the light seemed to rush through Mikos, cleaning and flushing out darkness. The black of his double set of wings faded, first slowly then faster and faster until with a snap of radiance the feathers turned completely white, an opalescent glitter shimmering on a pristine background of snow.
Lexi sucked in a breath and held it. Her body seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Her gaze traveled up and down Mikos, noticing each change. From the brilliant alabaster of his wings, to the ice blue of his eyes to his blond hair.
Blond hair? Mikos, as a full on angel, was a blond? Even in the midst of what was obviously a miracle, Lexi could only think there was something just not right about him being blond.
Mikos turned that shimmering gaze on her. She let out the breath she'd been holding. A tentative smile stretched her lips. She wasn't stupid and knew what his change meant. It meant he was going back to Heaven.
Something, a deep part of her had always known once she'd accepted he was an angel. Even when she found out he was one of the Fallen, a supposed demon, her heart and soul knew he'd, one day, leave.
Did that make it any easier? Hell, no. She'd gotten used to having him around. To being around him. And after their lovemaking, she'd felt something more. A connection she never expected to feel. Ever.
"Congratulations, Mikos. Looks like Heaven wants you back," she said around the football size lump in her throat.
He swung his gaze along the pure shaft, staring intently as if he searched for something beyond the glow. She stared at him. His tall form, proud and confident. The hungry look in his eyes. The sweep of hair brushing against his shoulders. And those full lips, the ones she loved caressing with her own.
Unable to stare at what she was about to lose, Lexi lowered her head and focused, unblinkingly, on the cement floor. Ice spread through her stomach, an acute sense of loss solidifying in her chest. Right where her heart used to be. She closed her eyes against the pain, then turned away.
"Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison."
Deep tones, the ones with the power to turn her insides into mush, halted her in her tracks. Gabrael stared past Lexi's shoulder then smiled, a wide eye-popping white smile. "That is my cue to leave." In a flash of sun-bright light, the angel disappeared.
Lexi could only stand still, staring off into the dark. She didn't want to turn around. Didn't want to see Mikos in all his angelic glory as he left her. She wasn't freaking Demi Moore to watch in weeping wonder as the man she loved with all her heart and soul left her forever.
"Lexi, turn around." Soft as silk, his voice washed over her. "Please."
It was the please that did it. Had she ever heard him say please? Lexi slowly turned, her heart pounding its way into her throat making it difficult to swallow. To breathe.
When she saw Mikos, she actually forgot how to breathe. Her Mikos stood before her. Dark hair, wicked gray eyes and crooked grin. No more blond hair, white wings or pure blue glow in his eyes. Just the Mikos she'd fallen for. Minus the wings.
"I don't understand," she said.
"I'm not going back."
"What? Did they change their mind? How could they?" She threw up her hands and stomped over to Mikos. "After what you did---"
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close to him. His chest rumbled under her cheek. With a sigh, Lexi snuggled closer not caring about anything except being in his arms. His strong, warm and all male arms.
"My warrior," he said, his voice low and smooth and infinitely tender.
Reluctantly leaving the comforting sensation of her cheek against his chest, Lexi pulled back and met his gaze.
"My decision. My choice to stay," he said, laugh lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
"Let me see if I understand. You gave up Heaven for this?" She swept her gaze around the warehouse.
Another rumble of laughter. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing a tender path down the line of her jaw.
"No, I gave up Heaven for you."
"Hope is the thing with feathers;
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all."
Emily Dickinson
Lexi swept her staff at Jackson's legs. He leaped upward escaping her sweep, but she was ready. At the same moment, she thrust out with her fist, knocking him in the chest.
His eyes widened. Off balance, he never landed on his feet. Instead, his ass hit the mats first, followed by his back. Air left his lungs in a rush.
For nearby, the rolling sound of Mikos's laughter mixed with the sultry tenor of Marisol's, turned Jackson's face a lovely shade of apple red. Then his chest.
Lexi lifted a brow. Hmm. Just how far down did the red go?
She leaned on her staff and tilted her head at Jackson. "See," she chided. "You need to be prepared for anything."
From his position on the floor, Jackson shook his head, a rueful twist to his lips. "I feel dumb as a box of rocks," he groused.
Lexi held out a hand. Jackson's warm fingers clasped around hers, and she helped him stand. "Don't leave yourself open."
At the mischievous gleam that entered his eyes, she continued, "And don't even think about it."
He offered her a sudden, arresting smile. Damn, if she didn't already have her Prince Charming, she'd be tempted. In the last six months, she'd come to like the tall, boyishly charming Texan.
Jackson shrugged, good-natured as always. A trait that seemed to piss off Marisol on a regular basis. Something Lexi enjoyed seeing.
There was something about Jackson's fearless attitude where the lovely demoness was concerned. As if he knew something about her the others didn't. Something that protected him from the worst of her aggravation.
Even after the last several months spent retrieving relics together, Lexi couldn't say she understood Marisol any better than she did when they first met. The redhead kept her secrets woven tight.
Lexi felt Jackson move up beside her. "What's with him?" He jerked a thumb at Mikos. Her gaze flicked to Mikos, a grin stretching her lips.
Ah, her dark angel. The man who had helped her find her heart. Her soul.
Her faith.
At the expression in Mikos's silver eyes, her grin slipped. His eyes were blank. Well, not so much blank as focused on something else. He cocked his head.
"I'm guessing he's talking to Michael," Jackson continued.
She nodded. "Very possible."
"An assignment?"
"Again, very possible."
Silence fell over the room as they watched Mikos. A few seconds later, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were the normal, icy-gray color. He looked over at Lexi and offered her a slow smile she felt clear to her toes.
At the soft, affectionate gaze, her heart swelled until she thought it might burst through her chest. He grinned and held out his hand. Without hesitation, she crossed the room and wrapped her fingers into his warm ones.
"So," she said. "Another trip to retrieve a relic?"
Mikos gave her another slow smile and lifted her hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss on her skin, and she shivered.
"Yes, another assignment. But not for us." Mikos paused and his gaze tracked to Jackson then on to Marisol. "For them."
Lexi turned to look at both pairs of startled figures---one human. One definitely not. Interesting.
"Michael wants you both to go to Central America, to the lost city of Lubaantun in Belize to find the crystal Mayan Death Skull," Mikos explained.
"A Death Skull?" Jackson interrupted. "Are you kidding? That can't be real."
Marisol snorted. "After what you've seen the last few months, you still doubt?" She knocked her knuckles against her head. "Is there anything substantial between your ears? Or is your head just a place to rest your hat?"
Lexi smothered a giggle. She looked up at Mikos and noticed the grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Ha ha. Very funny. You should have been a comedian," Jackson retorted. "Instead of soul-sucking man-eater."
Marisol snarled and snapped her teeth at him with an audible click.
As they continued to snipe at each other, Lexi tugged on Mikos's arm until he bent down.
"Does Michael really think this is a good idea?" she whispered. "Sending them off together?"
Mikos's eyes stared thoughtfully at the quarreling pair. "Indeed. Maybe he knows something we don't."
He looked down at her, his eyes softening again. She'd never get tired of watching the love flow into his eyes.
"Since Michael is never wrong, I think we should just let this play out, don't you?" He grinned, a wide, face-stretching move. "Besides, I think this is a perfect chance for some quiet time, don't you?"
"I couldn't agree with you more." She felt a grin stretch across her face.
With one last look at Jackson and Marisol, Lexi walked off, her arm around Mikos's waist as he cuddled her against his body. Jackson and Mari were on their own.
Time for some, um, quiet time with her very own angel.
About the Author
An avid reader of romance, Cassiel Knight's own passion for out-of-this-world romance began with Janelle Taylor's Moondust and Madness, a futuristic romance with a feisty Earthling heroine and dashing alpha hero from the stars. Her current works combine her passion for romance with an equal passion for kick-assitude, archeology, magic and things that go bump in the night.
Cassie is an active member of Romance Writers of America and the Rose City Romance Writers, Greater Seattle Romance Writers and Futuristic, Fantasy and Paranormal chapters. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her own romantic hero husband of eighteen years and two very spoiled, yet adorable, female Shih Tzu's, Ginger and Abby.
Please visit her on her site, http://cassielknight.wordpress.com/. Readers can find tidbits about the settings in her stories and read snippets of works in progress as well as participate in a contest or two.
Love---it's the real thing. And complicated as hell...
The Egyptian Demon's Keeper
© 2009 Ciar Cullen
Archeologist Eliza Schneider assumes her meeting with an exotic stranger in the Egyptian desert was a heat-induced hallucination...until he materializes in New York. She has to give the tall, handsome Egyptian high marks for originality with his pick-up line: they're fated to save the world together. The master/servant thing goes a long way toward sweeping her off her feet, but it's easier to believe he's just another in her long line of poor romantic choices.
Kasdeya, the Fifth Satan, waited eons for his Keeper to find her way to his tomb amongst the ancient ruins. He only has a limited time to convince Eliza that her role is critical to help defeat the loathsome Deumos, a female demon who has laid her claim to bearing his child---a child that will bring down mortals.
Trouble is, Eliza doesn't even believe Kasdeya is real. If he can't convince her he isn't an illusion---and neither is their love---Deumos will win.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Egyptian Demon's Keeper:
Eliza opened one eye and gulped back a scream. If she was asleep, then the dream was astounding. She wiggled her toes to make sure she wasn't in sleep paralysis.
That man was humming. He was two feet away from her, staring at his palms as if a secret message were about to appear on his skin, and humming.
Okay, she thought, this is pretty bad. Unless the laws of physics had suddenly changed and rain could defy gravity, she had lost her mind, and this guy seemed a permanent part of her new psychosis. At least he was beautiful. Eliza hoped fervently that if she had to remain mad, he would continue to be part of her altered state.
"You hear about sunstroke killing people, you know, but you never hear about this stuff."
He jumped to his feet and stared down at her, running his hand through his long black locks. "I was meditating. You..."
"I frightened you?"
His cheeks reddened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Of course not. Mortals cannot frighten me." He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, as if the stance would somehow convince her that she hadn't startled him.
"Mortals? Did you say mortals? As opposed to...non-mortals?"
"Correct." He tapped his foot in a very mortal gesture of impatience.
"This just gets better and better. Okie dokie then. I know I'm supposed to be your keeper or servant or something---isn't that what you told me in Egypt? Excuse me, should that be 'the land of pharaohs'?"
"Correct. You are my Keeper, my servant, and it is the land of pharaohs. I'm pleased you listened."
"Great. I'm dying to please my own hallucination. Would my hallucination mind getting me some water?" I have to try to pull it together. What if this is a real guy, and he drugged you? Come on, the door is close enough. Please, God, please let my legs work.
He gestured to the ornate decanter and glass on the low table. The smirk pulling on his lips ticked her off. So, he knew she meant to make a break for it.
"I will pour for you of course." He handed her a glass, and she pushed herself up so she could sip. Mind racing, coming up blank, she concentrated on clearing her head with the water. She stole glances at him, but his expression was impassive. What does a serial killer look like anyway? Why couldn't one look like a soap opera star? An Egyptian soap opera star? Did they have soap operas in Egypt? I'm in real trouble, no matter how I look at this.
"Look, if it's money you're after, you picked the wrong girl. Maybe the museum would belly up a few thousand for me... Did you drug me? That's it, isn't it? You got to my canteen in Egypt..."
"And then miraculously found you in New York, slipped unnoticed into your office or apartment and put a poison potion in your glass?"
She shook her head uncertainly. It didn't explain the raindrops, the change in his appearance from Dr. Kasey Smith to Kasdeya. Nothing was adding up.
"So, you don't really know David, and you don't really work for the museum in Boston."
"What gave me away?" He smiled fully for the first time, his eyes coming to life and gentle creases appearing around them.
Eliza refilled her water glass in a half-hearted attempt to stall. No matter how hard she thought about it, she could only come to one conclusion. The Egyptian desert had robbed her of sanity. Perhaps she was already in an institution and didn't know it?
"Where are we?" She glanced around the large room, what seemed like part of a larger suite. "Are we in New York?" The ornate furnishings smacked of something from an Arabian Nights tale, but with modern amenities. "It has that flying carpet thing going on."
"Not that again." His smile faded, and he rubbed at his temples.
"Sorry. I'm known to give people headaches. Do demons get headaches?"
Kasdeya took a deep breath and blew it out. Eliza knew that move. She'd watched her mother, David and just about everyone else in her life do it many times.
"Is the room to your liking? I thought you would feel comfortable with these...things." He gestured to the furniture uncertainly as if he had carved the intricate woodwork himself and was concerned for her approval. The Fifth Satan was a complicated guy---big, buff, dangerous, easily startled and oddly ill at ease. Did he need something from her? Perhaps he didn't hold all the cards.
"You didn't answer my question. Are. We. In. New. York?"
"More or less. Would you like to be in New York?"
"Absolutely."
"Then we are."
A mild tremor rolled through the suite. An earthquake in New York?
"Did you do that?"
He cocked his head to one side and studied her. "I thought you said you wanted to be in New York. Well, we're here. Or there. You are a very confused woman, and you're beginning to confuse me."
"Why don't you tell me what the fuck is going on, Mr. Kasdeya? And if you tell me not to curse, I'll...I'll curse again."
"I will warn you that some of the answers you seek may come as a bit of a shock."
"As opposed to rain stopping in midair? Try me."
The last thing Eliza expected was for her captor to strip off his black T-shirt. "Dude, there's no need for that!" Surely he wasn't going to accost her? He shook his head subtly, as if he read her thought and wanted to ease her mind. "Look at me."
"I'm looking." She couldn't take her eyes off him if she tried. Like an artist had wrapped a masterpiece of sculpture with velvety skin and breathed life into it, Kasdeya was exquisite. He moved his arm to point at the band of golden script that circled one bicep, and his stomach rippled, down to the ridges of muscles framing his slender hips.
"When was the last time you saw a man without a shirt, Eliza? I'm pointing to my arm. Look at it." She glanced at his face instead. His smirk of satisfaction annoyed her.
"Oh, so big deal, you're gorgeous. Get over yourself. All right, let me see your damned arm. I noticed that in pharaoh land. Skip the mumbo jumbo and tell me what it says and why I should care."
"I don't know what it says. You're supposed to tell me. You're my Keeper."
"What the hell does that mean anyway? Like a zookeeper? When's your feeding time? Damn, my head is killing me again."
"You're probably hungry. Come, let us dine and we can discuss things casually."
"Oh, lovely, yes, let's have a nice little chat over dinner. A night out on the town? Perhaps drinks first?"
"That sarcasm does not suit you. You will want to freshen up of course."
Markhat's new client is already dead and buried---or is he?
The Cadaver Client
© 2009 Frank Tuttle
The Markhat Files, Book 4
Humans, Trolls and even the halfdead have all passed through Markhat's door---more than once---seeking his services as a finder of missing persons and lost loves. This is a first, though. This time, his client is a dead man. At least that's what Granny Knot claims. But as long as the coin is real, Markhat has no trouble working for a guilt-ridden ghost.
Trouble is exactly what he finds, and soon he suspects his client, ghost or not, has darker motives for finding his estranged wife than the reconciliation he claims. Left with a cadaver for a client, a spook doctor for a partner, and Mama Hog as advisor on all things spiritual, Markhat must unravel a dark mystery ten years old, and do it before another grave is filled. Maybe his own.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Cadaver Client:
You stay in my business long, you develop a sense for trouble. And even if you don't, when six stalwart strangers pull up their sleeves and crack their manly knuckles in near unison while the tallest and widest of them fixes you in a glare and says, "Hey, you," you know you've just landed in the proverbial wrong place at the unfortunate wrong time.
I stopped and raised my hands.
"Whoa there, gentlemen," I said. "My name is Markhat. I'm a finder. Licensed."
They weren't having any. They rushed me, covering the dozen steps between us at a run.
There are a couple of things you can do when you find yourself unarmed and outnumbered six to one. You can stand your ground and put up your fists and laugh in their bullying faces, or you can follow me in a spirited retreat and hope your pursuers just enjoyed a very heavy meal and are wearing high-heel shoes three sizes too small.
They hadn't, and they weren't, and I was never much of a sprinter.
I went down, tackled and flailing, right in front of a dressmaker's shop window. I caught a brief glimpse of a lady's upraised hand and look of horror, and then numerous beefy fists fell hard about me and the last thing I recall is hoping I didn't spoil her day out shopping.
"Boy."
I tried to cover my ears and roll over.
"Boy."
Someone dashed water in face, and I came to, sputtering and mopping my face.
It did open my eyes though. At least my right eye. My left one was swollen nearly shut, and that taste in my mouth was blood.
"See what you done to him? I ought to hex the lot of you!"
I groaned and tried to remember things. That was Mama's voice, but how had she gotten mixed up in this?
My right eye cleared enough to let me see.
I was seated in an office. Mama stood beside me, shaking a tiny stuffed owl at a burly, red-faced man seated behind a massive, oak desk. The man looked worried. The two men flanking him, who stood at perfect Army attention, looked worried as well.
Mama snarled and gave them all one last good shake of her owl before turning back to me.
"You hear me, boy? You back at your senses yet?"
I tried to nod an affirmative, but that just made the room spin.
"All they done was rough him up some, Missus Hog," said the big man behind the desk. He wrung his hands while he spoke, and his knuckles were white. "They didn't break no bones."
Big man he might be, but his tone and demeanor toward Mama was anything but tough.
"Yeah, they were gentle as lambs," I managed. I looked the big man straight in the eye and spat old blood on his fancy Kempish rug. "I just hope nobody got bruised when they ganged up on me."
I swear the big man blanched.
"Mister Markhat," he said. He rose and came around the desk and put his hands behind his back. "They thought you was nosing around, maybe looking for a place to rob. They didn't know who you were."
"Hell they didn't." I spit again, out of pure spite. "I told them who I was. Told them that I was a finder. Right before they dived in swinging."
Mama puffed up, and I thought the man---who was a good head taller than even I am---was going to break out in tears.
"Mama," I said as I worked my jaw and probed the top of my head for fractures, "tell me what's going on."
Mama snarled. I swear she snarled, and her general lack of teeth did nothing to reduce the ferocity of it.
"This here big pile of stupid set his bully-boys on ye." Mama's Hog eyes were cold and merciless. "Once they'd done beat you half to death, one of 'em found that finder's card you carries. They brung it to Mister Smart Britches here, and he knowed of a finder named Markhat what was a friend o' mine, so he fetched me here to see if'n you was you."
My hand went to my back right hip pocket. It was empty.
"Now, we got all your possessions right here, Mr. Markhat," said Big Pile of Stupid. "Nothing missing. Money, city-issued finder's card, pad and pen. All safe and sound."
I grunted. My head was spinning again. But I was glad they hadn't thrown that finder's license in the gutter---damned thing costs me half a crown a year, and like everything else issued by the City they don't hand out free replacements.
"So why the special greeting?" I asked. There was a knot on my head the size of an egg. "What did I do to rate all this?"
Mama gruffed and started to say something, but the big man dove in instead.
"My name is Owenstall," he said. He almost extended a hand for me to shake, thought better of it and stomped back behind his desk and sat. "Regency is my neighborhood. My men and I keep it safe and orderly."
"Depends on who you ask."

