The detectives rose to their feet. Ingram collected the photos. His gaze lifted and locked with hers. “Think about what happened last night. Every detail. Every word spoken. Anything that might strike you as odd in hindsight. The smallest detail can sometimes break a case.”
“Of course.” She stood along with them. “I’m eager to help.”
Ishamel walked the detectives out. Eve expected him to return, so she waited for him. But he didn’t come back.
Knowing she’d see him on the way to the police station, she set off to find Hank instead.
CHAPTER 15
Raguel smelled the scent of ripe mortal terror before the door to his cell opened. Using what little strength he had left, he altered his appearance, tucking away the wings that kept him warm and altering his features to those of a teenager. He would get out of Hell, and when he did, he couldn’t risk being recognized as the real estate mogul who was so widely known.
The new arrival was pushed into Raguel’s stone enclosure with such force, he stumbled. Shock had already begun to set in. The man’s eyes were dilated and his breathing was too quick.
It took a moment before recognition hit Raguel. Evangeline’s priest. The one to whom she had turned, which had in turn prompted an investigation into the tengu infestation at Olivet Place. She must be the reason why the priest was here.
“Have a seat, Padre,” Raguel said, gesturing to the wide expanse of stone floor. “As you can see, there is plenty of room.”
Like Jehovah, Sammael employed drama for effect. In this instance the allusion was to the Spanish Inquisition, a time when atrocities had been committed in God’s name. Manacles hung from the wall, and distant screams kept nerves on edge and prevented restful slumber.
“Where are we?” the priest asked, sinking to a crouch with unfocused eyes.
“I think you know.”
In a rush, the man stood and moved to the door. He gripped the rough iron bars and tried to see outside. There was nothing out there but fire and heat. No ground below, no sky above. Sammael could choose to make it the most gorgeous of spaces, but that would be too kind. This way, the feeling of safety came from their imprisonment.
“There was someone else with me,” the priest said roughly. “A young woman.”
“Evangeline is fine. For now.”
“How do you know?”
Raguel wrapped his arms around his knees. His soul was cold when separated from God. “You would be dead otherwise, or not here at all.”
“Who are you?”
“A prisoner like you. Leverage to force those on earth to do a demon’s bidding.”
“Are you one of them?”
“No. I am a servant of God, just as you are.”
“How can I believe you? How do you know Evangeline?”
“You will have to take it on faith, Padre.”
The priest’s knees lost strength and he dropped to the floor. His lips moved in what was likely a silent prayer. Raguel didn’t see the point in telling him that
Jehovah couldn’t hear him here. Hope was something neither of them could afford to lose. They had time enough to talk after circumstances sunk in through the shock. There was no point in questioning the man when his brain wasn’t running at full speed.
A long time passed. Raguel had begun to doze when the priest spoke again.
“She asked me if I believed in demons.”
Raguel scrubbed his hands over his face, hating the smell that coated his skin. “What was your answer?”
“I’m not sure I gave her one.”
“Understandable. Even those with faith have their limits.”
The priest looked at him. “She claims to have no faith, yet she believed. She even hired bodyguards to protect her.”
With narrowed eyes, Raguel asked, “Did you meet these guards?”
“Yes.”
“What were their names? Do you recall?”
“Montevista and Sydney. Why do you ask?”
She was in danger. Somehow, Cain or Abel had known she was at risk before the priest’s abduction. What was happening? Why would Sammael want Evangeline?
“How long have you been here?” the priest asked. “Are you the reason she believes in demons?”
Raguel leaned forward. “You and I have much to talk about if we are to find a way out of here alive.”
“Can we get out?”
“We must.” At the very least, I must.
Cain would have to relinquish the position he’d stolen. Somehow, Raguel would find the tools he needed to make that happen. The priest was all he had to work with and time was short. A prolonged stay in Hell was like a cancer that ate its way in from the outside. The longer the mortal was here, the less of his soul and sanity would remain. Raguel was already feeling the effects and he was far stronger.
“Get comfortable, Padre;’ Raguel murmured. “I will need you to be as precise in your recollections as possible.”
***
Eve had just raised her hand to knock on Hank’s door when it swung open of its own accord. It was dark inside, as usual, with only strategically placed lighting over counters littered with petri dishes and glass tubes. Unlike usual was the racket resounding from the depths of the room. It was the first time she’d visited Hank’s domain when it wasn’t deathly quiet.
“Hank?” she yelled.
He stepped out of the darkness as a man, dressed in black slacks and dress shirt. The somberness of his garments allowed the brilliant red of his hair to take center stage. Eve was slightly envious of that color.
“Eve.” He held out his hands to her. “What brings you to me?”
“What the hell is that noise?”
“Your tengu friend.”
In the distance, she could hear Fred cursing and growling.
“What’s the problem?” she asked.
“I’ve been experimenting with the fellow, using him as a guinea pig for my masking agent trials. This most recent test involved a higher Mark-to-Infernal ratio and the demon in him is rebelling.”
She winced. “How long will he be like that?”
“Another couple hours, at least.”
“I don’t think I can shout that long!”
His smile was charming. “Should we go somewhere else?”
“If you don’t mind.”
They were about to exit when the rapid thudding of cement feet betrayed the approach of the escaped tengu.
“Watch out!” Fred yelled.
“Pretty Mark!” the tengu screeched, before launching like a missile toward Eve.
“Oomph!” She hit the floor on her back, her teeth snapping together painfully.
Her arms wrapped around the heavy beast and she rolled, knowing from experience that it was best to avoid taking the bottom position with a tengu.
They grappled like wrestlers. Eve’s stilettos made it difficult to gain purchase on the polished cement floor. The Infernal took advantage, cackling in a manner she’d never heard before. Less mischievous, more maniacal. With a resonance that sounded almost as if there were multiple beings laughing instead of just the one.
Fred bounded out of the darkness in wolf form, barking.
“Enough,” Hank roared, reaching down to free Eve. But the tengu caught a fistful of her chignon and held fast. Eve screamed as he pulled. In the violent jostling, the necklace fell from the V of her neckline. The moment it touched the tengu’s forearm, the demon stilled. His mouth opened in a surprised O, then he blinked as if waking. The hand in her hair loosened and the arm fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Pretty Mark,” he said in a soft whisper, appearing dazed.
She yelped as she was hauled upward by Hank.
The occultist grabbed her necklace and stared hard at it. “Where did you get this?”
Eve blinked as rapidly as the tengu had. She thought of Satan and hoped that Hank would read her mind as he often did. Instead he glared at her. When the tengu began to stir and rumble low in his throat, Hank pulled the necklace over her head and dropped it around the tengu’s neck. The Infernal quieted, sitting with hands in his lap and his head cocked to the side. His cement fingers caressed the charm reverently.
“Sammael’ Hank murmured, setting Eve on her feet and straightening her collar.
“I need that’ she said, pointing at the necklace.
“I can’t read you when you’re wearing it.”
“And you can’t hear me when your friend is having fits. We kill two birds with one stone this way. You can recover the piece later”
“Gotcha.”
Fred altered shape, shifting back into her lili form. Since she was nak*d, Eve looked away, but she heard Fred pick up the tengu and pad back into the darkness.
“You’re in deep shit,” Hank said, gripping Eve’s elbow and puffing her deeper into the room.
She was startled by the sudden appearance of a wooden table and chairs. Hank sat and she followed suit, once again wondering at the lack of gentlemanly manners.
He studied her intently. “It’s clear that neither Cain nor Abel know. If they did, you’d be locked away. Pointless as that would be.”
“I can’t say anything.”
“And your memories of Sammael are like static on a television.” Hank sighed. “Very well, then. I’ll do the talking. You just have to ask the right questions.”
Eve nodded. She had no idea how old Hank was, but there was no doubt that he held a staggering amount of information inside him. But did that information extend back to the beginning of time?
“Do you know,” she began, “exactly how much of the Eve and the apple story is true, and how much of it isn’t?”
“Ah, Genesis.. . Interesting.” Hank’s lips pursed momentarily. “The tale varies depending on who you ask. Some say the Bible is as accurate as can be expected. Others say it’s more of a fable, with hidden meanings.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Sammael’s serpent being a phallic allusion and the Tree of Knowledge referring to female sexual awakening.”
She whistled. “Holy shit.”
“There are those who go so far as to say that Cain is the son of Sammael and not Adam, and that is why he’s so good at killing.”
Eve heaved out a shuddering breath. If Satan wanted some reunion nooky, they were all f**ked. Talk about disasters.
“He’s a good-looking demon,” she said. “He wouldn’t secretly pine for her, would he? He’s got endless choices.”
“You have to understand the layers that exist.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck, one of very few times that Eve had ever seen signs of stress on him.
“Go on,” she coaxed.
“It’s a misconception to say that Sammael rules over a place called Hell. Sammael rules the earth. He was banished from Heaven, but given domain here. He isn’t roasting in some fiery pit.”
“He isn’t?”
“No. He can create that visual effect and often does because we’ve been trained to fear it, but it’s just window dressing. There are layers to Heaven and there are layers to earth. Like an onion. Sammael can strip or combine layers in order to create the desired effect.”
Fred appeared from the darkness dressed in a lab coat and bearing a slight smile. Carrying a tray with a pitcher and half-filled glasses, she looked more harmless geek than killer demon.
Eve leaned back to make room for the refreshments. “Will you join us?” she asked the lili.
“I can’t, but thank you.”
Hank’s gaze followed his assistant as she retreated. “She’s worried that she’ll die at any moment. She never relaxes because of it.”
One hundred him died every day. Eve couldn’t imagine living with that hanging over her head.
“Okay, back to the layers,” she redirected. “The layer that you and I occupy most of the time is tricky to navigate for both Jehovah and Sammael. As you know, they don’t play well together. So when they want to function here with the full range of movement that mortals have—to touch, to taste, to lust—they need emissaries.”
Understanding hit her right between the eyes. “Like Jesus Christ.”
“And the Antichrist. You may feel the hand of God or the claws of Sammael in a figurative sense or through secondary beings such as demons and mal‘akhs, but you can only feel them literally if they gain access to this earthly layer through an emissary.”
“So let’s say—hypothetically—that Satan wanted to give me a gift. Not a power, but an actual thing, like a necklace, he would have to do so through an emissary?”
Hank wrapped a hand around his drinking glass, but didn’t pick it up. “Or he would use an emissary as a gateway to do it himself. If the emissary was strong enough, perhaps Sammael could even manifest separately and the two could occupy the same plane at the same time.”
If the emissary was strong enough...
Eve wondered why the room didn’t spin. She thought it should, considering how shaky she felt on the inside. “Is Cain the gateway?”
How else could Sammael have known that the original Eve would be visiting this layer?
Hank’s gaze lifted from watching his thumb draw lines in the condensation on his glass. “Now, you’re starting to ask the right questions.”
***
“Why won’t anyone give me a straight answer?” Alec rolled his shoulders back, fighting fatigue when he shouldn’t be tired to begin with. “You’ve kept me cooling my heels for hours, then you talk in circles. It’s a simple yes-or-no question.”
Uriel handed him a bottle of chilled water and sat in the wicker chair opposite him. The head of the Australian firm was shirtless and barefooted. His long, sun-bleached hair fluttered gently in the ocean breeze coming through the open French doors of his office. He was considered one of the foremost yacht builders in the world, but had recently diversified into wine making. The world economy was unhealthy, curtailing luxury purchases.