Eve of Chaos

Riesgo looked back at Eve. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

“Who said I’m in trouble?”

“You have bodyguards.”

She blinked, startled by his perceptiveness.

He jerked his head to the left. “I charge for favors. Park your car and come with me.”

Eve looked at where he gestured and saw an open parking spot at the end. She glanced at Montevista, who clearly wasn’t keen on the idea of her being out in the open. Despite it being a very public place, Infernals would come for her if they thought they could get away with it.

“Close the doors, guys,” she said. After a brief pause, both Montevista and Sydney did as she said, joining Riesgo outside. She pulled into the empty spot, exited, and hit the lock button on her remote. She was lucky there’d been a space available. The alternative would have been to park in the larger lot on the other side of La Palma.

Riesgo was waiting nearby. Montevista was saying something to the priest that had both men looking absorbed. Sydney, on the other hand, was scanning the area. Eve followed her lead and noted the stragglers that loitered around the perimeter of the stadium. There were only a few Infernals, for now. They had to be working in packs, reporting her whereabouts in a chain that led from her house to here. She flipped them off, encompassing them all with a wide arc of her hand. One of them flicked his forked tongue at her, reminding her of her first run-in with the Nix.

Another problem to deal with some other time.

As a group, Eve and the others traversed the curving cement path that led from the lot to the stadium bleachers.

Ahead of them, a group of kids played on the dirt near the pitcher’s mound. They appeared to be in the eight to ten year range. Their laughter drifted on the early evening breeze and made Eve tense. They were so young, and innocent of the proliferation of demons she had brought to their doorstep.

“What happened to the coach?” she queried, wondering at the man inside the priest. Physically, he was big and powerful, although not in the way of Alec or Reed. Riesgo was barrel-chested, with thick biceps and thighs. A juggernaut.

“He’s having an emergency root canal. So I’m helping out.”

“Yuck.”

“You’re helping out, too,” he said. “You can pitch.”

“No, I can’t.”

He glanced at her.

“I’m not kidding,” she insisted. “I can’t throw worth a damn. I never hit what I’m aiming for.”

Of course, Riesgo didn’t believe her until he actually saw her in action. Some of her pitches didn’t even make the distance to home plate. Others were skewed to the left or right. He thought she was pretending at first.

“Gimme that,” he said finally, approaching her from his position as catcher. “You take first base.”

She plopped the dusty ball into the palm of his extended hand. “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

In short order, Riesgo replaced her with Sydney, who threw like a professional. Montevista took second base. Practice took an hour. The bright field lights came on, turning dusk into day. Like vermin, the Infernals in the area encroached to the edge where light met night. Parents eventually started showing up to reclaim their kids. The team’s coach appeared just in time to close shop, mumbling instructions through numbed lips. Montevista and Sydney took opposite positions on the field, staring down the Infernals that the mortals couldn’t see in the oppressive darkness.

Riesgo came up beside her. “So, what’s with the protection detail?”

She shrugged and told him the truth. “I pissed someone off.”

He glanced at the two Marks. “Must be a pretty dangerous someone.”

“You could say that.”

His mouth tilted up in a mysterious half-smile. “So, how can I help?”

“There’s this vagrant on my street. He’s a bit of a nut.”

As he started toward home base, Riesgo gestured for her to follow him. He picked up discarded mitts and balls as he went along and she helped, finding an odd comfort in his presence. She’d shortchanged him by crediting his charisma and velvet-smooth Spanish accent for the size of his congregation. He had an air of confidence; a rock-solidness that was soothing. He clearly found strength in being devout, yet Eve didn’t chalk that up to naïveté as she did with most pious people.

“You want me to find him a shelter?” he asked.

“Uh. . .“ She hadn’t thought of that. Some days the guy was on the corner, some days he wasn’t. He was rarely there past dark. She’d just assumed he had a place to live and chose to haunt her corner for the hell of it. “Well, I’m not really sure he’s homeless. He claims to be a reverend. One of those wrath-of- God, hell-and-damnation types.”

Riegso glanced over his shoulder at her. “Does he wear the same clothes every day?”

Eve shoved a mitt into the mesh bag. “I really haven’t paid attention. He wears jeans and a T-shirt, but whether or not they’re the same daily? Couldn’t tell ya. I have a good excuse though. It’s hard to pay attention to clothing when you’re getting screamed at.”

“He screams at you?” The priest stilled.

Explaining the situation only took a moment. The silence that followed lasted longer.

“Why,” he said slowly, “does he think you’re a jezebel?”

“There’s a lot of foot traffic around my place. But I’m not a prostitute.”

“The bullet catchers are the traffic.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Bullet catchers? Oh, the guards! Yes. They’re nice people,” Eve defended. “The good guys.”

Riesgo caught her elbow and led her to the aluminum bleachers. “Who are the bad guys?”

This was the part where things got tricky. “That really doesn’t have anything to do with Evil Santa.”

“Sure it does. The guards attracted the zealot to you, you came to me; they’re connected.”

“In a six-degrees-of-separation kind of way, maybe’ She sat next him.

The field was now silent and the sound of numerous cars on Harbor Boulevard was only a distant roar. Above them, the sky was a charcoal blanket with few stars. Metropolitan light pollution vastly reduced the visibility of celestial bodies, which made her feel somber and lonely. Before she could stop herself, she reached out to Alec. Where the warm light of his soul used to be, she felt only roiling darkness. She withdrew, feeling even more melancholy.

Reed.

He touched her briefly, like a quick kiss to the forehead that was distracted and hurried. She pulled back when he did, resenting her own dinginess. Regardless of the numerous Infernal eyes watching her with tangible malevolence, she would take care of herself. This was her calling—for now—whether she wanted it or not. Damned if she wouldn’t own it while it was hers.

Pivoting at the waist, Eve faced Riesgo. “Do you believe in demons, Father?”

“Yes,” he said carefully, warily.

“Do you believe they walk among us? Live among us? Work alongside us?”

His brown eyes were watchful and alert. “Did you hire bodyguards to protect you from demons, Ms. Hollis?”

Eve exhaled audibly. “What would you say if I said yes?”

CHAPTER 12

Alec stared across the small table at his mother and wanted to reach out to her. She had always loved and accepted him just as he was. She had forgiven him when no one else would, and pleaded his case along with his brother Seth to turn his sin into his salvation. But the darkness inside him clenched his throat tight, preventing him from finding solace where he could.

“It doesn’t matter who helped me,” he managed finally.

“Helped you?” Ima scoffed. “Helped themselves is more like it.”

“Whatever,” He reached for the juice on the table just to have something to do. He drank it, but tasted nothing.

“What about Evangeline?”

Exhaling harshly, he snapped, “What about her?”

“Oh my.” His mother sank back into the chair. “What have you done?”

What had to be done. “I came here to talk about the archangels, not about me.”

“Are you no longer together?”

At that moment, he felt Eve gently prodding through the connection between them. Her sadness was a salve, soothing the voices inside him that were irritated by the relief he found by being with his mother. They wanted anarchy and chaos, not peace. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be still inside, a sleeper not yet awakened.

She will turn to Abel, they whispered, fighting his restraint. Let us have her before it is too late and she no longer wants you.

Alec mentally bared his teeth. Fuck off.

Eve pulled away. His hands fisted as he held back the part of himself that wanted to snatch her close and use her. Instead, he shut a door between them, a thick barrier that took great energy to erect and maintain. He had no choice but to trust that Abel would keep her safe for now. There was too much inside him that could hurt her, not the least of which were his most recent memories—

“Cain.”

His mother’s voice brought him back to the world around him. He opened his eyes.

“Your eyes,” she breathed, with a hand to her throat. “They’re gold.”

A prickling chill swept over him, like the shock of jumping into an icy lake.

She stood. “You still live next door to Evangeline, don’t you?”

Alec nodded.

“Good. I’ll talk with her while I’m staying with you, see if we can salvage things.”

“Ima. . .“ His tone was a warning. “You are not coming to visit now. It’s the worst possible time,”

“Bullshit.” She caught up her hair and twisted it into a knotted bun. “It’s the perfect time. Have you considered that things might be so crappy because I haven’t visited in a while?”

His brows rose. In every myth and fable, there was a grain of truth. In his mother’s case, the tale of Persephone’s journey between Hades’s underworld and Demeter’s Earth had been inspired by his mother. She didn’t make flowers bloom or increase crops, but she did seem to have the ability to rejuvenate Marks. For many, her existence established the veracity of the Bible in a way that not even he nor Abel could. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">