Eve of Destruction
PROLOGUE
Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.”
—GENESIS, 4:15
Anno Domini 2008
Class R4AD08
Student/Origin:
Callaghan, Kenneth: Scotland
Dubois, Claire: France
Edwards, Robert: England
Garza, Antonio: Italy
Hogan, Laurel: New Zealand
Hollis, Evangeline: United States
Molenaar, Jan: Holland
Richens, Chad: England
Seiler, Iselda: Germany
Number of Graduates:
CLASSIFIED
Number of Casualties:
CLASSIFIED
Status:
PENDING INTERNAL REVIEW
CHAPTER 1
Evangeline Hollis woke to the scents of Hell—fire and brimstone, smoke and ashes.
Her nostrils flared in protest. She lay on her back, unmoving, willing her brain to catch up with her circumstances. Licking her lips, she tasted death, the bitterness coating both her tongue and mouth in a thick, immovable wash. Her muscles shifted in an attempt to stretch and a groan escaped her.
What the hell? The last thing she remembered was . . .
. . . being burnt to a crisp by a dragon.
Panic assailed her with the memory, quickly followed by her mind lurching into full awareness. Eve jackknifed up from her sprawled position, sucking in air with such force it was audible. She blinked, but only inky darkness filled her vision. Her hand reached up to her arm and her fingertips found the raised brand there. The Mark of Cain—a triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it. The eye of God filled the center.
The mark burned whenever she took the Lord’s name in vain—which was often—and whenever she lied, which was less often but useful on occasion. When dealing with Satan’s minions, playing dirty leveled the playing field.
Where the fuck am I? In her upright position, the smoky stench in the air was magnified. Her nose wrinkled.
Maybe I’m in Hell? As a longtime agnostic, she still struggled with facing the reality of God. Heaven, Hell, souls . . . They were concepts that couldn’t be explained with reason.
Besides, if there was a merciful God and a Heaven, she’d be there. She had only been cursed with the Mark of Cain for six weeks and she hadn’t yet been properly trained in how to kill Infernals, but during that short time she had eradicated a tengu infestation, killed a Nix, and managed to vanquish a dragon. She’d also helped put a lid on a major new threat to the good guys—a concoction of some sort that allowed Infernals to temporarily hide in the guise of mere mortals. And she’d managed to get Cain and Abel to work together for the first time since they were kids.
If all that wasn’t enough to save her soul, she would take her chances with the Devil. Maybe he’d have a better sense of fair play.
As Eve’s mind struggled to catch up with her present, the sound of singing penetrated the fog of her thoughts. She couldn’t understand a word, but it was familiar all the same. The language was Japanese; the voice, her mother’s.
The idea of sharing Hell with her mother was oddly both comforting and chilling.
Eve’s hands clenched tentatively, testing the soft surface beneath her, attempting to discern where she was. She felt satin, like the sheets on her bed. A cool breeze touched her brow and Eve’s vision exploded into living color. She jerked violently in surprise.
She was in her bedroom, sitting atop her king-size bed. As if her senses had been muted, the steady crashing of waves against the Huntington Beach shoreline increased in volume. The soothing rhythm drifted down the hall from her living room balcony and brought welcome relief.
Home. As her tension dissipated, Eve’s shoulders relaxed. Then, a brief glimmer in the periphery of her vision made her turn her head.
Lifting her arms to shield her eyes from the blinding light, she barely made out the silhouette of a winged man standing in the corner between her bleached pine closet doors and her dresser. Eve blinked back an unusually thick wash of tears. She risked another glance at the angel and found that, once again, her mark enhancements knew what to do even when she didn’t. Her arms lowered. She could see him now without damage to her vision.
The angel was tall, with brawny arms and legs displayed by a knee-length, sleeveless robelike garment. The gown was white and belted with a tan braid. The black combat boots with wicked spikes running up and down the outside were a surprise, as was the impossible perfection of his features. His jaw was square and bold, his hair dark and restrained in a queue at his nape. His irises shimmered like blue flame, and he had an air about him that warned her to keep on his good side.
His gaze lowered to her chest. Hers followed. She was nude.
“Yikes!” Grabbing the top sheet, Eve yanked it up to her neck.
Miyoko Hollis appeared in the doorway, buried in an armful of laundry.
“Hey, you’re awake,” her mother called out, her voice flavored with a Japanese accent.
“I guess so.” Eve was so happy to see her mom, her eyes burned. “It’s good to see you.”
“Eh, you say that now.” Striding toward the bed with the brisk stride of a retired nurse, Miyoko was a compact whirlwind of energy, a tornado that often left Eve feeling exhausted. “You didn’t move a muscle for a while. I nearly thought you were dead.”
Eve had been dead, that was the problem. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
Another noxious breeze assaulted her nostrils and Eve waved a hand in front of her face. Her gaze found the source on her dresser—an incense stick.
“Whatever fragrance that is,” Eve muttered, inwardly reeling that she had lost two days of her life, “it stinks.”
Miyoko moved to the end of the bed and dumped the still-warm pile of clothes onto the comforter. She wore Hello Kitty pajamas—pink flannel pants and a T-shirt that had a giant Hello Kitty face on the front. With her black hair in pigtails and her unlined face, she looked more like Eve’s sibling than a parent. She also acted as if she owned the place, which she didn’t. Darrel and Miyoko Hollis lived in Anaheim—home of Disneyland, California Adventure, and Eve’s childhood. Still, whenever her mother visited, Eve found herself fighting for her place as alpha female in her own house.
Eve watched her mother walk right past the angel without batting an eye. Standing with crossed arms, widespread legs, and folded wings, he was impossible to ignore . . .
Unless you couldn’t see him.
“Aromatherapy aids healing,” Miyoko pronounced.
“Not when it smells like shit. And why are you doing my laundry again? I wish you could come over and just relax.”
“It’s not shit. It’s jasmine-chamomile. And I am doing your laundry because it was piled up. Can’t relax in a messy house.”
“My house is never messy.” Her mom did laundry every time she came over, despite the fact that at twenty-eight years of age Eve was perfectly capable of doing her own. No matter how spotless her condo might be, her mother cleaned it—rearranging everything to her liking in the process.
“Was, too,” her mother argued. “You had an overflowing basket by the washing machine and a sink full of dirty dishes.”
Eve pointed at the boxer briefs, men’s shirts, and towels in the pile. “Those aren’t my clothes. The dishes aren’t mine either.”
She wondered what her mother would do if she learned that she was washing Cain and Abel’s clothes. The brothers went by the names Alec Cain and Reed Abel now, but they were still the siblings of biblical legend.
“Alec has been using all the towels and leaving his clothes on the bathroom floor.” Miyoko’s tone was starkly chastising. No man was good enough for Eve. They all had some flaw in her mother’s eyes, no matter how small. “And both he and your boss get new glasses every time they have a drink.”
“Alec lives next door. Why doesn’t he go mess up his place?”
“You’re asking me?” Her mother snorted. “I still don’t know why Reed spends so much time at your house. It’s not natural. Or why your boyfriend is CEO of a corporation like Meggido Industries, but I’ve never seen him in a suit.”
The thought of Alec in a suit made Eve smile. “When you run the place and you’re good at it, you can wear whatever you want.”
Eve stretched gingerly, wincing at the lingering tenderness in her spine. Then, she hollered, “Alec!”
“Don’t yell.”
“It’s my house, Mom.”
“Men don’t like to be yelled at.”
“Mom . . .” She heaved out a frustrated breath. “What do you care, anyway? He leaves towels on the bathroom floor.”
It was a pet peeve of Eve’s, too, but she didn’t think it made a man unsuitable for marriage.
“It’s inconsiderate,” Miyoko groused. “And unhygienic.”
Eve glanced at the angel, embarrassed to have him witness their squabbling. His burning gaze met hers, then his nose wrinkled.
“Mom!” Eve’s tone was more urgent. “Put that incense out, please. I’m serious. It stinks.”
Miyoko grunted, but moved to tamp out the incense stick. “You’re difficult.”
“And you’re stubborn, but I love you anyway.”
“You’re awake,” Alec interjected, walking through the open bedroom door. He stared at her with fathomless eyes, his gaze darting over her in search of any cause for concern. “You scared me, angel,” he said gruffly.
Angel. It was a pet name only he ever used. Every time she heard it, her toes curled. Alec’s voice was velvet smooth and capable of turning a reading of Hawking’s A Brief History of Time into an orgasmic experience.
Dressed in long shorts and white tank, he looked hotter than most men did in a tuxedo. His black hair was a little too long and his stride boasted a bit of a swagger, but no matter what he wore or how casually he moved, he looked like someone you didn’t want to piss off. It was the hunter in him, the predator. Alec killed for a living and he excelled at it.