Eve of Chaos
It would be safer to shift, the mal‘akh said. But it appears we have no choice.
She disengaged the car locks and alarm with the remote, and Jones opened the driver’s-side door. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “No scissor doors?”
Eve gave a clueless shrug.
The detective stood in the V of the open door and looked at the interior. With the top down, he had an unobstructed view. She glanced at Ishamel, who stood guard on the other side. The feel of Infernal eyes was strong.
If they could just get in the car…
“Very nice,” Jones said. “How does it drive?”
“Like a dream,” she said, with a smile that felt strained. “Detective, I’m sorry. I really do have to run.”
“Right.” He backed out of the way. “I’ll give your office a call tomorrow.”
“Great.”
Eve hopped into the car and got it started. Ishamel waited until she put the transmission in reverse before climbing in beside her.
Jones stood nearby, watching them with an eagle eye. The detective didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.
Backing out of the spot, she hit the road.
It was hard driving while trying to keep an eye on any possible threats. Eve relaxed slightly when they reached the intersection of Katella and Harbor, feeling somewhat safer in a crowd. The sidewalks were clogged with tourists and business-attired pedestrians leaving the convention center. The excited screams of riders on the various California Adventure amusement park attractions competed with the thumping bass of a nearby car radio. There was a tiny souvenir shop next to the 7-Eleven on the corner; its wares spilling over into its equally tiny parking lot. Customers picked through racks of Disney- and California-themed T-shirts, while a postcard display stand reminded Eve of unfinished business.
“Would you investigate a postcard I received right after I was marked?” she asked, returning her attention to the road. “It came from Gadara Enterprises, so someone there has to be responsible for it.”
“What do you want to know?”
The tower was only a short distance away but from the looks of things, Eve was pretty sure Ishamel had already called in reinforcements. There seemed to be an inordinate number of white Chevrolet Suburbans around them.
“Well, for starters,” she said, “who sent it. I want to ask them why.”
A police car flashed its lights and chirped its sirens until it maneuvered into position directly behind her.
“Jesus,” she breathed, wincing at the burn of her mark. “Is he trying to pull me over?”
Ishamel looked over his shoulder. “I sent it.”
“What? Why?” She eyed the cop through the rearview mirror. The Infernal revved his engine and grinned beneath his shades. The vamp again. Her hands fisted on the wheel.
The Lamborghini was at the light, first one on the line, but in the middle of the multilane road. She was stuck until the signal changed.
“Divine compulsion, perhaps?” Ishamel replied. “I saw the postcard on Raguel’s desk and thought it might pique your interest. The building wasn’t done and it needed a designer.”
“If you’re trying to say that it had nothing to do with turning me into a Mark, I don’t believe you.”
He looked at her, then resumed staring at the squad car behind them. “It had everything to do with the Change. You were agnostic. Appealing to your secular talents was a substitution for appealing to your faith, which is why Raguel scheduled a job interview with you. The postcard was meant to be a follow-up, an added lure. But Raguel was called away and Abel was. . . impatient. You were marked before it reached you.”
The opposing traffic light changed, turning yellow. Eve prepared to hit the gas. “What about the tengu?”
“I didn’t know about the tengu. As I said, perhaps it was a divine compulsion. Not all coincidences are bad, after all.”
An eighteen-wheel barreled west down Katella. As the pedestrian countdown timer began to flash red, the semi’s front tires crossed over the line.
The demon revved his engine again. She pretended to run her hand over her chignon to disguise flipping him the bird. He slammed into her, shoving her forward into the middle of the intersection.
The semi hit its horn. Eve saw her reflection in the chrome grill and screamed.
CHAPTER 18
Look at that car, Adam. There’s nothing left of it’ Alec kept his eyes closed and pretended he
was sleeping. His mother’s fascination with the news and daytime drama programming was beyond his understanding. Why couldn’t she watch chick flicks or the action movies Eve favored? Instead, she’d been surfing through cable news stations since the soap operas had ended, switching channels whenever a commercial popped up.
A soft snore from the opposite couch told Alec that his dad had managed to crash. Alec couldn’t, and not just because his mother insisted he hang out in the living room with them. His hand kept straying to his chest, rubbing at the amulet even as his mind pondered how the thing worked. Good luck charm? Bullshit. It was designed to repress something, and he wanted to know what it was. What was in him that was affected by the amulet, and how did Hank create the suppressant?
“Those expensive sports cars fall apart when they get hit,” his mother continued. “If Abel wasn’t a mal’akh, I’d make him get rid of that car of his. The one on TV is just like his and look at it now, you can’t even tell it used to be car. I can’t believe a police office was responsible for such a horrible accident
Alec opened one eye and glanced at the TV. The reporter stood on the corner, pointing at the vehicle splattered like a bug against the grill of an eighteen- wheeler truck.
“. . there are said to have been several repair requests on file for the police cruiser—a Ford Crown Victoria—involved in this accident. It is not yet known whether the patrol car malfunctioned or if driver error played a part in this tragedy. The name of the officer involved and the identities of the occupants of the Lamborghini convertible have not yet been released.”
Alec froze, realizing that the twisted and charred metal on the screen was silver not due to chipped paint, but because silver had been the color of the car.
He bolted upright. Abel!
What? his brother snapped in reply.
Leaping out of the recliner, Alec startled his mother into a screech, which in turn caused his dad to roll off the sofa.
Where is your car? he asked carefully.
In the driveway of the tower
His eyes squeezed shut, along with his throat. Where is Eve?
She’s at—
The sudden silence was ominous. Broken by a sudden banging on his front door.
“Cain”
Recognizing Ishamel’s voice, Alec shifted out to the hallway, pushing the mal’akh aside to look left and right. When he didn’t see Eve, he set off toward her condo. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know”
Alec spun about. “Say that again.”
“I had her wrist in my hand before I shifted out of the car.” Isharnel’s voice had a slight, uncustomary rasp. “But when I reached the tower, she wasn’t with me.”
***
Beyond closing his eyes, Raguel hadn’t moved since a pair of Infernals had taken the priest out of their cell. He barely had the energy to reopen them when Riesgo was returned. Maintaining the guise of a mortal was draining. Unfortunately, he didn’t need his eyesight to see that the priest was badly shaken.
Still, he watched Riesgo retreat to a corner and sit. The priest’s arms wrapped around his knees and he curled into a ball. It was alarming to sense such vulnerability in so proud and strong a man. Sammael intended to break them both, and this was a way to accomplish that task with one blow. Raguel was deeply affected by Riesgo’s tangible shock and desolation.
“Are you hurt, Padre?” Raguel asked gently, pushing up from his prone position.
There was a drawn-out silence, then, “No.”
“You were not gone long.”
“Really? It seemed like forever.” Riesgo sighed heavily. “I thank God something called him away. I’m not sure I could have borne a moment longer in that place.”
“Want to talk about what happened?”
Riesgo set his cheek on his knee. “I’m not sure I know.”
Leaning back against the stone wall, Raguel waited patiently. The deeper the silence, the stronger the urge to fill it.
“He wasn’t what I expected,” the priest said finally. “Satan, I mean.”
“He is always what you need him to be. That is his gift.”
“He was. . . paternal”
“Because you seek God in this Hell, he tries to fill that role for you. Did he meet with you alone?”
Riesgo stared at him almost blankly. “No. There was some sort of celebration. An orgy. Sex, dancing and.. . other acts that don’t bear repeating. There was blood. . . so much…”
“He plays the role of an anchor in the storm. A stalwart presence in a world gone mad.”
“Like God in the world above, offering peace amid the chaos.”
Raguel was impressed by the priest’s perceptiveness. “Did that disturb you, Padre? Did it shake your faith as he intended it to?”
“I-I don’t know.” Riesgo shrugged lamely. “He was reasoned. Quiet. His confidence frightened me more than anything.”
“You imagined him to be volatile.”
“Yes. Wild and out of control. Someone with a hair- trigger temper. Someone I could see arguing with God enough to get kicked out of Heaven.”
“Instead, you found someone cool and calculating. Sammael does not get angry. He gets even.”
Riesgo’s fingers dug restlessly into his knees. “He had me sit with him on a pallet in the middle of the room. He offered me something to eat and drink. I was so thirsty, but I didn’t take anything from him.”
“It would not have harmed you if you had,” Raguel said, knowing the mortal wouldn’t survive long without sustenance. The priest wasn’t the only fragile one. After weeks in solitary, Raguel wasn’t certain he’d survive the loss of his only companion.”