“Yes, there are only seven of us,” the archangel finally answered, after twenty minutes of evasion. “And yes, it might be by design. Is that better?”
Alec snatched up the water and downed the contents in a few greedy gulps. His body grew more feverish by the hour, leaving him with a dry throat and perspiration-damp skin.
“You really don’t want to f**k with me now,” he growled, returning the empty bottle to the glass- topped wicker coffee table with a hollow thud.
“I hope, for your sake, that you do not think we are evenly matched,” Uriel warned. “Or assume that my easygoing nature gives you an edge.”
Alec took deep, measured breaths, carefully reining back his temper.
Why can’t I feel Eve?
He hadn’t been able to feel her since they’d found the two guards. As the archangel responsible for Abel, he could sense that his brother wasn’t alarmed, but that only spurred Alec’s envy. The damned thing inside him was costing him the only thing that mattered to him anymore.
“Whose design?” he bit out, returning to his previous question. “Did you and the others practice a little sibling winnowing to get to a manageable number?”
Uriel’s brilliant blue gaze narrowed. “You tread dangerous ground with your accusations.”
“How did you convince Jehovah that seven of you were enough?”
“We have no control over Jehovah. You know that. As with anything, the pros and cons were weighed.”
Alec couldn’t help but wonder if he was experiencing the cons. Despite the cool evening air gusting in from the balcony, he was sweating. There was no doubt the chaos within him was escalating. “I’m not.. . well.”
“I can see that,” the archangel murmured, his casual pose unchanged.
“Did the others—the archangels who aren’t here anymore—experience similar. . . problems?”
“What problems are you experiencing?”
“Let me rephrase,” Alec said tightly. “Have you ever had to put down another archangel because he was out of control?”
Uriel brushed his hair back with a rough swipe of his hand. “No. We seven were created as we are, Cain. You are an aberration. An unknown. Perhaps your once-mortal body is incapable of handling an archangel’s power.”
“I was changed,” he argued. “It felt like I was being ripped apart. The pain was indescribable.”
Uriel’s mouth quirked on one side. “I bet. That doesn’t mean you are now one of us. For Abel to become a mal‘akh, he had to die. For Christ to achieve his aims, he had to die. It is quite possible that your transformation cannot be completed without shedding every vestige of your former self.”
“If I’m an aberration, is it possible that Raguel’s still alive and that’s why my ascension is f**ked up?”
The sudden stillness that gripped the archangel didn’t go unnoticed. “I suppose.”
Well, that explained why none of them were actively searching for their brother. They assumed he was dead.
Restless, Alec stood and prowled. If there could be only seven archangels, he was in an untenable position. He would first have to ascertain whether or not Raguel was alive. Then, he would have to decide whether to kill, or be killed.
How badly do I want this?
The darkness in him roiled in protest. Power was like a drug, one not easily relinquished.
He moved toward the window and stood on the threshold, his damp skin chilling in the gentle gusts of wind.
Uriel’s voice came soft and coaxing behind him. “What ails you?”
“There’s something in me. It’s angry. Violent. Very strong.”
“Too strong?”
“Not yet.” Alec looked at the ocean. At night, one beach looked like another. He couldn’t help but think of nights spent with Eve. The selfish part of him wished he could share this mess he was in with her. “But I want better control over it.”
“Perhaps the ascension freed a.. . repressed part of your personality?”
“Do you believe everything you hear?”
The wicker creaked as the archangel rose to his feet. Although his approach was silent, Alec sensed Uriel coming. The rush of power he felt around a single archangel was of equal force to the rush he felt when entering a firm.
“Depends on who is doing the talking,” Uriel murmured.
Did Jehovah know the truth behind the rumors?
Alec’s heart rate kicked up in response to his panic. Something was overriding the safeguards of his mark and the unexpected physical response caused a slight disorientation.
His hand rubbed at his chest through his thin cotton T-shirt. “Who did the talking to you?”
“Does it matter? The point is that perhaps the problem is in your blood.” There was a length of silence, then Uriel touched his shoulder. “You should direct your questions to Jehovah.”
“And fall my first challenge as an archangel?” Alec scoffed. “No way.”
“You think this is a test?”
“Isn’t everything? My entire life has been a trial.” He faced Uriel. “That isn’t a complaint, just a fact.”
“I understand. We all face trials, saints and sinners alike. I wish I could help you with this one.”
Alec’s brow arched. “Are you sure you can’t? You haven’t offered me much of anything.”
Uriel smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “The best advice I can give you is to look elsewhere. You speak of anger and violence inside you, yet you do not approach the one of us known for those traits? Why?”
“Michael?”
“Commander of the Lord’s army. Who knows darkness better than he? He has defeated Sammael himself.”
Alec stepped farther outside. Uriel followed. Together, they stood at the railing and watched the moonlight shimmer over the water.
“You fear him,” the archangel noted, still looking forward. “You should. But if anyone can help you, it would be him.”
“Thank you.”
“Do not thank me yet, Cain.” Uriel glanced at him. “If you become a danger, I will hunt you myself.”
Inside Alec, the thrill of prospective battle quickened his blood.
Uriel’s gaze hardened. “I smell it on you. Perhaps you should go, before I decide not to let you.”
Cursing inwardly, Alec shifted away.
Reed was preoccupied with his thoughts. So much so that it took him a moment to register that the beer he’d ordered was sitting in front of him. The waitress who’d brought it was waiting patiently.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I missed what you said.”
“Would you like anything else?” The pretty brunette smiled wide. Her name tag said she was “Sara,” which was an unfortunate moniker but not her fault.
“No. I’m good, thanks.” He picked up the bottle, ignoring the frozen glass beside it. For mortals, it was perhaps a bit early in the day for booze. For a mal’akh, it wasn’t any different from drinking sparkling water.
“I’ll check on you in a few minutes,” she said. “But if you need anything in the meantime, just gimme a wave.”
“Got it.”
Sara winked before sashaying back into the restaurant. The invitation to flirt with her was clear and brought Reed some amusement, but he hadn’t the time to indulge in such games now. There was far too much at stake.
Alone again, Reed appreciated his status as sole occupant of the House of Blues patio. Music drifted from the interior—of sufficient volume to identify the songs, but not so loud as to impede conversation. Despite the sluggish economy, foot traffic through Downtown Disney was steady. A mixture of trolling teenagers and tourist families window-shopped, ate, and commingled with a large proliferation of Infernals. The mortals had no clue, their open and happy faces betraying their ignorance of the danger. What would they say if they knew the vendor hawking caricature drawings was an incubus? Or that the woman filling popcorn buckets was a djinn?
“Abel?”
Turning his head with studious nonchalance, Reed watched as Chaney and Asmodeus approached. The new Alpha was dressed in casual Dockers pants and an oversized polo shirt. His companion, one of the seven kings of Hell, was dressed similarly to Reed— Armani suit, pristinely pressed shirt, and gleaming leather dress shoes. The glamour he wore was impressive. He’d chosen a muscular build and angular features to hide the multiheaded monstrosity he was in reality.
As the demons came around the short metal patio fence and joined him, Reed remained seated. He drank his beer and watched the pedestrians pass.
“Raguel is alive,” Asmodeus said without preamble. “Presently enjoying the hospitality of the second level of Hell.”
The level that Asmodeus ruled. Of course. The demon must have pleased Sammael in some way to be given such an honor.
“Even better than I expected,” Reed returned. “We both have access to what the other wants.”
He watched both Infemals through his sunglasses. Neither met his gaze. The Alpha turned his head to people watch and Asmodeus peered into the doorway of the restaurant, making eye contact with Sara.
The two demons ordered food and drink. Reed asked for a second round. When they were settled, Asmodeus pushed up his sunglasses and revealed laser-bright red irises.
“I want more,” the demon king said smoothly.
Reed picked at the edge of the beer bottle label, but kept his eyes on his companions. “Do you?”
“I don’t see how it benefits me to share a bounty with a lower-level demon. I get a better boon from having Raguel under my watch.”
“Ah . . . I see.”
“You’re not surprised,” Chaney noted.
“Of course he’s not.” Asmodeus laughed. “He knows me well enough.”
“I was hoping you would insist,” Reed said easily. “I want more, too. I want the priest.”
“Done. We don’t have any need for him, beyond getting our hands on Cain’s woman.”
Fingers tensing, Reed drawled, “Right.”
The waitress returned with the drinks, promising to be right out with the food. Reed couldn’t even imagine eating at this point, and suspected their order was a ruse to appear more in control than they were.
Regardless, they had more control than he did.
“So what more do you want?” he asked, when the silence stretched out.
“What can you get?” Chaney asked.
Reed laughed. “I don’t work that way. Let’s start with you telling me what I’m bidding against, and I’ll see if I can beat it.”
The Alpha tried to look innocent. Asmodeus didn’t bother. He tossed his head back and laughed.
“I’ve always liked you, Abel.” He grinned. His teeth were a hideous shade of yellow, incongruous within the beauty of his glamour. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Reed confessed, his mind spinning with the possibilities. “I suspected, you confirmed. I figured someone else besides me would want Raguel back. I couldn’t be the only one who’d bargain with a demon to do it.”
Cain, maybe? Someone sent by Sabrael? Ishamel? “I’m under a vow of secrecy,” the king said. “Can’t tell you who it is.”
“I don’t care about who.” He’d tackle that next on his own. “I care about what. They’re offering you something, but you think you can get more out of-me or you wouldn’t have shown up today. What are they proposing, and how much more do you want?”
Asmodeus glanced at the Alpha, then back at Reed. “They’re offering to widen the Black Diamond Pack’s territory by thinning the ranks of the perimeter packs.”
“Okay.” Reed waited a moment, then, “Come on. You already said that sharing the spoils with Chaney doesn’t work for you. So, what are you getting out of it?”
The king slouched in his chair and smiled. “A handler. One who’s been a pain in my ass for too long.”
Reed staved off his horror and launched into his bid. “I can top that. Easily.”
“Oh?” The Infernal smiled. “Whatcha got?”
“An archangel to replace the one you’re giving to me.”
Chaney whistled. “Which one?”
Asmodeus laughed. “Who do you think?” His eyes brightened to the point that Reed appreciated his sunglasses. “He’s going to give us Cain.”
CHAPTER 16
Azazel stood with hands clasped behind his back, separate from the mass of celebrants around him. “You gave her the amulet, my liege?”
Sammael shrugged. “Doing so serves many purposes, not the least of which is that she will be marginally safer until news of the successful bounty reaches everyone. ”
“If you say that I took part in the hunt, it will lower my status. I am above such games.”
“Are you?” Reclining more fully on the divan, Sammael watched the revelers through the filmy sheers that surrounded his pallet. Between his spread legs, a succubus worked, her mouth gliding up and down the length of his c*ck with laudable skill. “How odd. I thought your place was where I put you.”
His lieutenant bowed. “I meant no offense, my liege. I simply point out that my ability to perform the tasks you set for me is enhanced when others fear me. That fear is more easily invoked when I am seen as separate from the masses.”
Sammael hissed in pleasure at the fervent tongue stroking the underside of his cock. “Worry not, Azazel. I told Evangeline that I would think of something. I did not say I would use her suggestion.”
“Thank you.”
Sammael turned his gaze back to his subjects who danced and f**ked with abandon just beyond the edge of the divan. Unfortunately, his lieutenant’s continued agitation affected his enjoyment of the debauchery. “You still have questions.”