Eve of Chaos

Her lips twisted wryly. “Burning a stick of dynamite at both ends makes me nervous.”



An image of him covering a disheveled Sara on the floor entered his head, and subsequently hers. Her breath held as she absorbed the searing flash of jealousy she wasn’t expecting.



Reed stared straight ahead. His Ray-Bans hid his gaze and his profile revealed nothing more than a ticcing muscle in his jaw. “It’s not what you think’ he bit out.



Eve blanked her mind. “You don’t know what I think.”



“You drive me nuts.”



“That’s not me. That’s all the stuff you have rushing through your brain.” There was a tremendous amount of information moving through him—kill orders flowing down from Alec, assignments meted out to the Marks under him, reports coming back in from them. The human mind could never handle such an influx and outpouring of information simultaneously, but mat ‘akhs dealt with it daily. The teeny bit she felt through him was cringe-worthy.



Eve tugged at the hand he held. He released it. “I think we need some distance between the three of us.”



His lips thinned. “Why do women always pull this shit when they get jealous?”



“Fuck you, you conceited bastard.”



“I’m not the bastard,” he bit out.



“I’m a liability and you know it. This dating bullshit isn’t worth the risk. Alec can.’t feel anything for me and you’re not there yet. We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. Better sooner than later,” His head turned toward her. “Is Cain getting this little speech, too?”



She nodded. “He will.”



“So. . . you’re saying Cain is heartless, and you think I don’t care enough yet: Where does that leave you? Still pining over him?”



“Not enough to hang on, obviously.” Her gaze went back to the road. She merged into the left-hand turn lane at Harbor Boulevard, one car behind Alec. “Listen, the cons outweigh the pros here. I’m a vulnerability that neither of you can afford. And I feel guilty. I hate that.”



Reed’s fingers tapped his thigh. Because he was rock-hard muscle, the flesh was like a solid surface beneath his impatient touch.



You’re gonna notice shit like that, he scoffed, in the same breath that you ‘re saying you don’t want me?



“I didn’t say I don’t want you. I just said this isn’t going anywhere.”



“Quit worrying about where it’s going and focus on where it’s at.”



“I want to focus on staying alive.”



“You need sex to do that. It’s the way Marks are wired.”



“I know.”



The silence that filled the car was heavy enough to block out the cavorting of the trapped tengu.



Reed’s voice came dangerously low, “Oh, hell no.”



She made the turn onto Harbor, then glanced at him. “Excuse me?”



He pulled off his shades and stared at her with hard eyes. “I’ve played this game by your rules. Now you’re telling me the board’s getting put away before I score? Fuck that.”



Eve gaped. “Don’t tell me I owe you a screw.”



“Damn straight. And I’m collecting.”



“That is the most immature, chauvinistic—”



“Yeah, yeah. Save it.”



“Give Sara a booty call if you’re hard up enough to blackmail someone for sex,” she snapped.



“I’ve been celibate for you. You owe me.”



Celibate for her.



Didn’t make up for him being an asshole. “From what I saw, Sara seems to miss your caveman side.”



“So do you.” He slipped his shades back on and crossed his arms. “That’s where I’m blowing it. I should be listening to your body language and not the crap coming out of your mouth. I should toss your ass over the arm of your couch and nail you. Then you’d know this brush-off shit doesn’t work with me.”



“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth.”



Reed held a hand to his ear. “Did you hear that? That was the sound of the gloves coming off.”



“Whatever. Grow up.”



“I wanted you to make the first move. Now. . His heard turned toward the window. “I just want you.



The last was said without the cockiness of the rest. It was softer. Resigned. There was more to his need than the physical. Outwardly, he didn’t show it, but she felt it.



While it wasn’t particularly common for Marks to connect romantically with their handlers, it wasn’t unheard of either. The flow of assignments and field reports between the two created a sense of intimacy that sometimes blossomed into love.



“Even if wanting me is what’s setting me up as a target for Satan?” she asked, hoping to goad him into lowering his mental guards.



“Even if.”



Eve turned her head toward Reed, only to find that he’d left; shifted off to someplace else in the world. That ability to be here one second and gone the next reminded her of superheroes like Superman or Spider-Man.



“But I’m not playing the role of the always- a-hostage love interest’ she insisted aloud. “You hear me?”



If he did, he didn’t answer.



From his position at the head of a massive U-shaped table, Sammael relished the view of Raguel, the most arrogant of all the archangels, kneeling on the stone ground before him with head bent and fingers curled with white-knuckled force. The pure brightness of his brother’s white wings was incongruous compared to the underlying wanness of his coffee- dark skin and the ragged appearance of his woolen shift.



Sarnmael leaned back into his chair with a smile. Pain. So beautiful and effective. Of all of Jehovah’s creations, pain was his favorite. Terror and depression followed a goodly distance behind.



But pain alone would not be enough to break Raguel.



Despite over a month of hellfire burning, there was a lingering elegance to the set of his brother’s shoulders, the sight of which Sammael welcomed. The archangel’s display of his gold-tipped wings was an additional act of rebellion designed to inspire fear in the lessor demons. It inspired amusement in Sammael.



“Are you enjoying your accommodations?” he asked solicitously.



Raguel’s head lifted, his dark eyes revealing a wealth of hatred and fury. He said nothing.



Perfect. There was no room for love of God when the soul was filled with viler emotions.



“Speechless? Ah, well. . . Are you hungry?” Sammael tossed a hunk of meat onto the floor. “It’s quite good.”



His brother’s eyes never left his. No move was made to reach for the sustenance, despite the obvious signs of emaciation. Raguel wouldn’t die of starvation, but he was suffering from it.



Smiling, Sammael raked his gaze over his surroundings. Both the Great Hall and the wooden table that filled it grew in proportion to its occupancy. So while it appeared that every seat was taken, in actuality the space was bereft of the number of minions that usually filled it. He hoped the absent ones were enjoying the lovely Southern California weather. Their vacation would soon be over.



“What do you want?” Raguel’s voice was hoarse from endless days of screaming. He was kept suspended over hellfire in a metal cage, his flesh seared with every flare, then rebuilt by his angelic gifts. Drained by the need for constant healing, he lacked the strength to free himself. Even now he kneeled, not because he deferred to the Prince of Hell, but because his legs would not support him. He’d put too much effort into re-creating those magnificent wings.



Suddenly irritated by that display, Sammael stood. His wings snapped outward, blood red and tipped with black. The demons in attendance roared and raised their.fists. Raguel’s chin lifted. Ever defiant.



“Cain is helming your firm,” Sammael purred, his hands clasped beneath his wings against the small of his back. “Our siblings do not seem to be in any hurry to bargain for you. Perhaps they do not miss you. The Seven is intact without you.”



“I am not concerned.”



“Cain has implemented some changes which have increased productivity and lowered Mark causalities. He has also exposed flaws within the existing system.”



“Is he hitting you where it hurts?” his brother goaded.



Sammael laughed. He began to round the corner to his left, his cloven feet striking the floor in rhythmic clops. The massive ruby chandelier above them followed him as he moved. It was the fate of lessors to live in darkness, except for the light he brought them. “For a time it seemed as if his fascination with Evangeline Hollis had passed, but now he courts her again. What does he see in her? What is it about her that makes him cleave to her as he has not done with any woman since his wife, Awan?”



“I care not.”



“Truly? Now I see why they have abandoned you. You have grown lazy.” He brushed a hand across a succubus’s cheek as he passed by. “After all these years, out of all the females in the world—all the Marks and Infernals, all the nephilim and mortals—he finally recommits to this one unremarkable woman. And you do not ask yourself why?”



Raguel’s jaw tightened.



“I ask why,” Sammael murmured, having no need to raise his voice since no one would dare to speak over or around him. “What distinguishes her? Would you like to know what I have decided?”



“Not especially, no.”



The silence remained unbroken, but the shock of Raguel’s disrespect rippled outward. It would spread like a cancer if allowed.



As Sammael passed a berserker, he touched him. A loving, gentle caress that made the demon smile... before he dissolved into a rancid puddle that splashed over the bench to pooi on the floor. Fear spread through the room and tainted it with an acrid scent.



“I am feeling generous,” Sammael said, smiling, “so I will tell you anyway. I think it is her lack of faith that fascinates him. I think he relates to her agnosticism and finds compelling similarities between them.”



“Cain is pious,” Raguel bit out.

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