Eve of Darkness

Eve took the postcard back and read the text on the reverse. It was an invitation to view the Gothic-style building infested by the tengu. Olivet Place it was called. Only the date preprinted on the card was still a few months away and the collage of photos on the front included blank sections with notes like “insert lobby photo here.” It was a mock-up and should not have been mailed.



“Someone wanted me to go to that building,” she said, frowning.



“Looks like.”



“Why?”



“That’s the question.” Alec mantled her with his body and rested his chin on her shoulder. “This isn’t good.”



“Ya think?” She exhaled in a rush, her gaze riveted to the suddenly threatening piece of paper in her hands. “What are the chances that I would be lured to a demonic building at the same time I was marked?”



“Slim to none, I’d say.” His voice was grim, his touch possessive.



“Is there any possibility that the bad guys knew ahead of time? The two events have to be connected, right? Seems like too much of a coincidence.”



“There is no such thing as coincidence.”



She didn’t say it, but she was glad Alec was with her. Yes, he’d gotten her into this mess to begin with, but at least he was around to help her deal with the aftermath. “So what do we do?”



“Ms. Hollis?”



Eve jumped at the sound of her name. Alec turned fluidly, pushing her behind him as he faced the man who addressed her. The visitor was dressed flawlessly in a three-piece suit of dark gray, his tall and slender frame motionless with his hands clasped behind his back. His hair and eyes were as gray as his garments, and his thin lips were curved in the vaguest glimpse of a smile that did not touch the rest of his face. Behind him waited a black limousine.



“Yes?” She stepped around Alec despite his protesting murmur.



“Mr. Gadara would like to meet with you now,” the man said in a voice without inflection.



“Now?”



“Yes.”



“How did you get in here?” The parking garage had a gate that required a remote or a resident code to enter.



One gray brow arched. “Gadara Enterprises is the trustee of this property for your homeowners’ association.”



Eve glanced at Alec, whose jaw and frame were tense. “I’ll need a few moments to change,” she said.



“I am afraid there is no time for that,” the man in gray replied, pivoting to gesture at the open rear door of the limo. “Mr. Gadara has a flight at four.”



“I’m wearing wet jeans,” she pointed out. She had no makeup on, her hair was in a messy ponytail, and she probably had a shiny forehead and nose. Beyond that, however, Gadara had stood her up for their last interview, so she wasn’t feeling too accommodating. “I also need my portfolio.”



“Mr. Gadara is familiar with your work.”



“He can’t expect me like this.”



Gray Man said nothing, simply waited patiently.



“Okay, fine,” she conceded.



“I’m coming with you.” Alec’s gaze never left their guest.



“That is not advised,” Gray Man interjected.



Eve’s gaze narrowed. “He comes if I say he comes.”



“Mr. Gadara will not appreciate the request, Ms. Hollis,” Gray Man drawled.



“Well, I don’t appreciate the last-minute notice to go see him,” she retorted.



“As you wish.” Gray Man moved to reenter the limo. “I will advise him of your sentiments.”



Eve made a split-second decision. She could keep protesting the crap being shoveled her way, or she could do something about it. She looked at Alec. “I have a jacket in my trunk; could you get it for me, please?”



Alec looked startled, then none too pleased with the request. “You’re not going alone.”



“That’s fine. I knew you wouldn’t like being left behind.”



She glanced at Gray Man, who had paused. He didn’t seem to catch her hint, but Alec’s pursed lips told her he hadn’t missed it. “You could toss all the mail in there, too,” she suggested with a wide innocent smile. She secured her mailbox and handed him the keys.



Alec headed toward her car, glaring over his shoulder. While he was occupied with finding the right button on the remote to open the trunk, Eve slipped into the backseat of the limo. “Let’s go.”



Without hesitation, Gray Man climbed in and they set off. Alec shouted something after them and Eve winced inwardly. She knew he was pissed at her, but she thought it best to dance to Gadara’s tune for a bit and see what “shook out,” as Alec said. She’d been marked in Gadara’s building, after he stood her up. Since Alec insisted that there were no coincidences, Eve thought it was necessary to go back to the beginning. If the only way to do that was to go alone, so be it. She wasn’t helpless; not with her new super skills. Clueless about being marked, maybe, but not helpless. And Alec would be only a step or two behind her.



Fear didn’t enter into the equation. Or maybe she was scared to death and her brain was too scrambled by shock to notice. Without the accompanying physical reactions it was impossible to tell. She was grateful for that, since the lack of emotion kept her mind clear.



Reaching up, Eve removed the elastic restraining her hair and ran her fingers through the mass. Luckily, she had inherited her mother’s thick locks, which seldom tangled too greatly.



“How did you know I wasn’t at work?” she asked, taking a lame stab a conversation.



Gray Man’s face split with his grimace-smile that made him look more constipated than pleasant. He said nothing.



“Is Mr. Gadara going on vacation?” she prodded. “Or is he leaving for a business trip?”



Again, nothing.



Eve refastened her hair and looked out the window at the passing scenery. Despite the uncomfortable silence, the trip to Gadara Tower passed swiftly. That was no doubt due to the traffic lights on Beach Boulevard, which stayed green for them 100 percent of the time. She had barely gathered her thoughts when the limousine drew to a halt outside the revolving front doors. Foot traffic was steady as usual.



As Eve followed Gray Man out of the car, she lamented her lack of heels and suit. She would have felt armored then. In jeans and a T-shirt—and reeking like a demon—she felt worse than naked.



They crossed the packed foyer on their way to the glass tube elevators. Unlike the last time she was here, she found the sickly sweet fragrance of the atrium flowers almost nauseating. She concentrated hard on turning off her Spider-Man sense of smell but it didn’t work. And then something else drew her attention.



The door to the stairwell where she had been marked.



Memories hit her in a rapid-fire series of heated images. She could smell Reed’s scent in her nostrils and feel his rough touch on her skin. The recollections were both disturbing and a turn-on.



She growled low in her throat. Her libido was now officially a royal pain in the ass.



“This way, Ms. Hollis,” Gray Man said, gesturing to an elevator that was separated from the others.



Looking away from the past and ahead to the future, Eve began to notice the number of stares directed her way. They were prolific. She tugged surreptitiously at the hem of her shirt and lifted her chin. When the elevator doors closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief.



Gray Man inserted a key into a lock in the panel and the car shot to the top without pause. She looked down at the atrium below, watching normal-size people shrink into teeny ants. So industrious. So inconsequential. Is that what she looked like to God? Is that why he didn’t care that he had set her life spinning like a top?



The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Eve turned and found herself looking directly into a massive, well-appointed office. An intricately carved mahogany desk was angled in the far corner, facing the bank of windows on the opposite side. Two brown leather chairs faced the desk, a fire crackled in the fireplace, and a portrait of the Last Supper decorated the space above the mantel.



“Ms. Hollis. So glad you could come on such short notice.”



Her head turned to find Gadara. He faced away from her, his attention on a file he read directly from a filing cabinet built into the wall. He returned the file to its place, then closed it. The drawer front settled into a clever wooden facade that looked like a wooden chest of drawers.



“Mr. Gadara.”



“Please, call me Raguel.” He faced her and smiled.



She had seen photos of him, but they didn’t do him justice. Dressed casually in a guayabera and linen slacks, Gadara was no less imposing than he would have been in suit and tie. He was African American, his skin espresso dark, his salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, his cheekbones dotted with sunspots. His eyes were dark and ancient.



He assessed her from head to toe, then gave a nod that seemed approving. “I apologize for missing our last appointment.”



Her mouth curved slightly. He couldn’t sound less apologetic if he tried.



Gadara’s eyes narrowed when she did not reply. “Do you still want the job?”



“The position as described would be a dream come true. I’m sure you know that.”



He gestured toward one of the chairs set before his desk. When she was seated, he rounded the corner and settled opposite her. His pose was deceptively relaxed, as if this was a social visit. He had one ankle crossed over the opposite knee and his forearms rested lightly on the armrests. But his gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s and when he picked up a remote control from his desktop, she grew wary.



“I am not certain breaking into my construction site today was advisable then,” he drawled, pushing a button that lowered a screen over the windows, blocking out the light and providing the canvas for a projection.



As images of her accessing the computer at the tengu site flashed in guilty testimony, Eve froze.



Gadara smiled. “I could have you arrested.”



She pulled herself together. “If you wanted to do that, you would have done so already.”