Eve of Destruction
Page 39CHAPTER 14
Alec briefly considered redialing his brother, then thought better of it. Abel would need to digest the state of affairs for a while. The dig about shifting was a knee-jerk reaction. All the archangels were stripped of their powers except for seven weeks of the year. They managed without them; so would Alec.
He dialed 4-1-1 instead and requested the phone number to the commandant’s office. A few minutes and connections later, he was told that the colonel had left for the day and wouldn’t be available until tomorrow.
“Shit.” He needed a Plan B. After considering his options, he called Hank.
“Cain!” The coarseness of the answering voice was reminiscent of Larry King, yet Hank’s true gender was a mystery. An occultist who specialized in the magical arts, Hank was a chameleon, changing form and gender to suit the client. The only things that never changed about Hank was the flame-red hair and head-to-toe black attire. Those were staples.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Hank husked.
“Death and destruction.”
“Sounds like my kind of party.” Hank made a choked noise, then shouted, “Be careful loading that box! The contents are irreplaceable.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the Monterey Municipal Airport in Northern California. Raguel called me up here. I had to bring my equipment, so I was forced to fly. Can’t expect Marks to understand how important my gear is. If I left it to them, they’d break everything in transit. Even loading up the rental van seems to be too much for them.”
Alec considered Hank his favorite Infernal. In the dozen centuries or so since Hank joined Raguel’s team, the demon had proven to be extremely helpful. “Who’s with you?”
“Two investigators from the Exceptional Projects Department and two guards.”
Alec exhaled with relief, then explained the situation as it now stood.
“I know,” Hank said. “I felt it the moment Raguel was gone.”
“How?” After noting the complete lack of celestial reaction to Raguel’s disappearance, Alec was more than startled to hear that an Infernal had sensed what no one else appeared to.
“We’ve been working together a long time. He bonded with me just as he has to all the Marks who work for him.”
Alec reached a hand out to the wall, bracing himself against what he considered to be an earth-shaking revelation. “Do all Infernals working for archangels bond with their firm leaders?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Holy shit. Infernals bonding with archangels. Sharing information. Seeing how each other’s minds worked.
Shaking off his astonishment, Alec went back to the original point of his call. “When you get to McCroskey I need you to report all of your findings to me in real time. Don’t wait for an official report.”
There was a short pause, then, “Have you stepped into Raguel’s wings?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Archangels had a unique resonance to their voices that inspired both awe and capitulation.
“Roll with me on this,” Alec said.
“As you wish. I look forward to seeing your lovely girl again.”
“Keep her out of trouble for me, will you?”
“And away from Abel?” Hank purred. Working for the good guys didn’t mitigate the innate desire Infernals had for chaos and conflict.
“That, too. Call me when you know something.”
“Will do.”
Alec hung up and headed into the adjoining room’s bathroom. He stood over Giselle and called out, “Wakey wakey.”
The Mare didn’t budge.
Alec turned on the faucet. He filled his cupped palms with the flowing water, then dumped the whole of it on Giselle. As she sputtered and lurched into a seated position, he backed up swiftly. Her attempt to swipe at her eyes was arrested by the handcuffs, resulting in a yanked arm and a string of muffled bitching.
He crouched beside her and pulled the gag down to hang around her neck. “Sweet dreams?” he asked, smiling.
She glared at him through wet, spiky lashes. “What did you do that for? I wasn’t finished.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“You suck, Cain,” she grumbled. “Totally suck. Get me out of these cuffs.”
“I need you to draw a layout of Charles’s compound. You gonna give me a hard time?”
The petulant curving of her lips changed to a bright smile. “Does this mean I don’t have to go with you? I’ll draw you the best map ever. Then I’ll just wait here for you to finish and we can drive—”
“I need some blood, too.”
“—down to Anaheim and—” Giselle’s blue eyes widened. “My blood? After you chained me to a bathroom sink? You’ve got to be—”
“Okay.” Alec pushed to his feet with a dramatic sigh. “Have it your way.”“Where are you going?”
“To get my knife. If you don’t squirm, it might not scar too badly.”
He stood just outside the door with his back to the wall, smiling.
“Cain! Damn you,” she complained. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? This is not the way you’re supposed to treat guests!”
Backtracking, he kneeled at the sink and pulled the cuff keys out of his pocket. “When you’re an uninvited guest, all bets are off.”
He released her and stood.
Giselle rubbed her wrist, then she held out her hand to him for assistance gaining her feet. Her blonde hair was a mess from both the handkerchief and bed head, but the look was a good one on her. “This floor is hard and cold.”
“If you hadn’t wiggled so much, you might have been somewhat comfortable.”
“You shouldn’t cuff people to pipes!”
“Don’t make me gag you again.”
“You are really not a very nice person.”
“Says the demon who gives people nightmares,” he retorted.
“I have to eat!”
Alec preceded her out of the bathroom. He went to the nightstand and withdrew the hotel letterhead from the drawer. Setting it on the tabletop along with the provided pen, he said, “Draw. Now.”
“Go. To. Hell.” But she plopped onto the edge of the bed and caught up the pad. Her hand began to push the pen across the paper. “It’s a gated community. I don’t see how you’re going to get past the guards. You stink.”
Alec opened the backpack he’d set on the other bed and pulled out a bottle of body wash. The contents had already been laced with an anticoagulant. He just needed some Infernal blood to add to the mix.
“You’re going to fix that.” He faced her.
Giselle’s eyes dropped to the syringe in his hand. Her mouth fell open. “Uh . . .” She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid of needles.”
“It will only pinch a minute.”
She shook her head violently and stood. The pad dropped to the floor. “You don’t understand. The sight of blood makes me vomit.”
Alec’s brows rose. It figured that he would end up with the one demon who had a gore complex. “You don’t want to find out what happens if you puke on me.”
“Then don’t stick me with that! What kind of sick torture is this?”
“You know damn well what I’m doing.” He gestured to the bed with a jerk of his chin. “Sit down.”
“For you maybe. Now sit.”
Giselle opened her mouth, but the look on his face must have warned her off. She dropped back onto the bed and held out her slender arm, turning her face away.
Alec kneeled and said, “I’m good at this. It’ll be over before you know it.”
She kept her head turned. “People only say that about things that last forever.”
“Count to twenty.” He secured the tourniquet. As always, he took a moment to absorb the similarities between them—the beating hearts, the pumping blood, the fragile shell of their skin.
“Ett, två,” she began, shivering as he tapped the inner fold of her elbow with his fingertips, “tre, fyra—”
Alec slid the needle into a plumped vein.
Giselle screeched and jumped to her feet. Her knee struck him in the chin, sending him toppling backward into the neighboring bed.
He started to laugh, then pain lanced his brain like a white hot poker. Clutching his head, he yowled in agony.
She screamed, too, then smacked him on the shoulder. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing yelling like that?”
Falling onto his side, Alec curled into the fetal position.
“Oh, please,” she muttered. “Drop the drama. I barely touched you.”
Acid pumped through his veins, eating its way through his system from the inside out. Tears burned his eyes and his throat clogged.
“Are you serious?” Giselle prodded him with her foot. “Cain. Are you bullshitting me or not?”
Alec’s back arched and his frame tautened like a bow. He writhed in torment, his bones altering with such alacrity he felt as if he were being ripped apart.
“You’re not kidding,” she breathed, standing over him. “I really did a number on you.”
If he lived, he was going to kill her.
“This could save my ass!” Giselle clapped her hands. “I can tell Sammael that I didn’t return to Hell because I had a shot at knocking you out of commission! This is perfect. I’ll be a hero. Charles is going to be sick with envy. A Mare taking out Cain of Infamy. Who’d have thought?” 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">