CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Layla opened her eyes and sat upright, her hands on Tan’s chest. She was panting a little as she looked around the room. The fire was long dead—how long had she been in his dream? Looking down at him, she saw his flame blue eyes staring up at her. She put her hand to her heart, worry rushing through her.
“Annabelle!” Her eyes went wide.
Layla almost fell on her ass with how quickly she got off his body. She ignored his groan and ran up the stairs two at a time, pausing by her daughter’s door. The soft blue glow of the nightlight showed through the crack. Her hand shook as she pushed open the door, terror that she would find her daughter taken from her by the nameless monster from that nightmare.
She let out a held breath upon seeing her child’s light-colored head, her little chest rising and falling in undisturbed slumber. Pressing her head to the doorframe, she wanted to scream and rage. She might seem like the most in-control person on the planet, but she had depths even she didn’t wish to explore.
She left the door ajar and headed back downstairs to see the Wolfman rekindling the fire and getting it going again. They had learned an awful lot from that winged nut job, more then she thought he wanted to let on. But she was one smart cookie, and her brain was already piecing things together.
Wrath. The angel had called him a demon of Sin—Wrath was one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Was it possible? It made a weird kind of sense given the unescapable rage he seemed to have in his beast form. He had stripped out of the t-shirt, exposing his tattoo-covered body. He turned and watched her from where he stood, regret dulling his usually vibrant eyes.
“Stop that, it’s not your fault.” Layla descended the last few steps and walked over to him. She reached out and pressed a hand to his chest, tilting her head back to look up at him.
“If I had not come here, he would not have found you. How is this not my fault?” It was as if he couldn’t stop touching her, his hands moving to her arms, his thumb brushing against her warm skin.
“I get the feeling he has been looking for people like me for a while. If the Fates indeed have had a hand in our meeting it would have happened anyway. My mother always said Fate has a plan for everyone—you have to ride out the rapids to smoother water; it may seem endless but it will come.”
“She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was. I wish she were here now—she would know what to do. Sometimes Annabelle says she talks to her. I like to think she still watches over us. I just hope she can give me some guidance. On cold nights like this when we couldn’t sleep she would make us spiced apple cider. I think I will make some now. Bring some warmth back into this room.”
The demon let her go and watched her walk over to the kitchen. The revelations from the dream were still sinking in. He was a demon, not a man, but he had the form of a man. It was that being who cursed him, and apparently owned him. He felt an unimaginable rage when he’d looked at that winged bastard, and now he knew beyond doubt that the angel was the Michael that cursed his dreams.
Turning to the couch he frowned at the torn foam. Guilt bit hard at him; he had done a real number on the furniture. Looking at his hands he couldn’t help but worry. What if Layla was not there next time? What if Michael got in his head again as he clearly had done tonight? So many things rushed around in his head he couldn’t stop the torrent.
So, he had a name—Wrath. This angel, or whatever the fuck he was, knew a hell of a lot more about him than he knew about himself, and that just pissed him off. What had he done to this being to warrant being tortured like this? Something terrible, no doubt. You didn’t have your brain turned into swiss cheese because you accidentally bumped into someone in the street. Dragging his fingers though his hair, he tried desperately to remember anything relating to his past and came up with a whole lot of nothing.
The smell of rich apples and cinnamon reached his nose and pulled him from his melancholy thoughts. Layla returned with two steaming mugs of sugary goodness. He even blushed a little as she looked at the couch, then at him, and chuckled. She sank down on the thick rug and leaned back against the couch before sticking her feet out near the fire. He followed her down, staring at the amber colored liquid in the mug.
“Sorry about your couch. I will get you a new one.” He lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip of the foreign drink—it was sweet and tasted of hearty apples, and he loved it.
“It was old, needed a new one anyway. So, Wrath, is it?” She turned her head to look at him. He raised his eyebrows over the almost empty mug and nodded. She chuckled at the look on his face. He put the mug down and wiped his mouth.
It looked like he had a sweet tooth. Good to know. “Sorry, that tasted fantastic, is there more?” Layla nodded and pointed at the streaming pot on the stove. Layla took ample opportunity to watch his ass as he walked to the kitchen to refill his mug. She felt like a perv staring at his butt as he walked, but he was seriously one hell of a male.
“I prefer the name you gave me to that. I don’t remember that name, although now that the dream is over, I do remember someone. Pride. That is all I get—a fuzzy face. If what that angelic sonofabitch said is true, he plans on wiping out the people of this world. I can’t let that happen.” He looked down at his mug again.
“Wait here.” Layla got to her feet and jogged over to a door under the stairs. Her sister’s computer office sat there with all her camera equipment and a laptop—the only one in the house. She returned with the computer and settled back down, opening the screen and logging in. Wrath watched her fingers moving on the keys as she brought up Google.
“Let’s see what we can find on the Seven Deadly Sins.” She watched him blink and frown while lifting his hand to his head. “That bring a memory?”
“Yes, seven flames, darkness, but feels like home. I don’t know what I’m saying. It feels foolish.” He sat back and leaned his head back against the torn couch.
“No, it is good. Let’s see.” Layla hit search and the usual suspected pages showed up. Opening one she began to read. “The Seven Deadly Sins—Pride, Wrath, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Sloth and Greed. Each have an associated color, yours is blue. Now I know why your eyes flicker like flame.” He turned his gaze to hers and gave her a half smile, his ears tinted a little red. He was just too perfect.
“Most of this is mainstream crap. I am pretty sure you are not a figment of Christian creation. So that means we need to go back further. He mentioned Pandora’s Box.” Layla changed the search, bringing up millions of Pandora’s Box references, including a website for some interesting sex toys that the demon got far too interested in.
“Look at this. Pandora’s Box, mistranslated, is actually a jar, said to be housed in the lowest levels of Hades, protected by the Lord of the Underworld himself. It says that when Pandora opened the box, only seven sins escaped. The rest were stuck inside. Maybe that explains why he wants the Box— he wants to let the rest out? He mentioned wanting it open, why else?”
“What good will that do? If I am one of these Sins, won’t opening the Box make more like me?” He frowned, taking the laptop from her and placing it on his lap. His fingers hovered over the keys, a memory flashing of a large set of computers—state of the art, very high tech, him typing code. He made fists with his hands and frowned.
“You remember something?”
“I think so. Computers. I think I had lots of them; I was programming something, and then a roar filled the air. I left the code half done, ran to see what happened.” His eyes stared blankly at the screen, his voice sounding distant to his ears—he could see the scene playing out in his head.
He could see the backs of five men as he entered the room, the bestial roar of a demon bleeding out all over the floor. A face turned to him, the one he now associated with Pride—his mouth opened in an order but he couldn’t remember the words that had been spoken. Yet he turned and ran to a com system, calling for Greed to come up. They had trouble.
Pain started to throb behind his eyes and he winced, pushing the memory away and handing the laptop back to her. He leaned his head against his knees and pressed his fingers into his eyes. The cooling touch of Layla’s hand on the back of his neck swept away the pulsing in his brain. He groaned and hung his head as she stroked her fingers through his hair.
“It’s a good start. If there are six other demons out there, there has to be some way to contact them. Unless they are living in a castle in the middle of nowhere, they must have a phone.”
Her smile always managed to push away the encroaching darkness. His eyes skimmed the computer screen as Layla prepared to click on another link. She suddenly went very tense beside him, her eyes locked on the screen. It took him all of two seconds to find what had caused her such distress. There, emblazoned in blue lettering was, “TRENDING NOW – Miracle in Montana, girl with apparent healing gift brings local back from the dead!”
Layla was white as death. Before he could stop her, she had clicked on the link. It took her to a website showing a shaky video of the Stillwater main street, dust still hanging in the air, the sounds of screams filling the audio. But Annabelle could clearly be seen walking to a covered corpse and kneeling beside it. It took a few moments. There was a blinding glow and a voice, Lexi’s voice, shouting something. Then her daughter convulsed, and was caught by her sister just as the body of Carla Kane sat up and looked around confused.
Layla’s hand moved to her mouth and he watched the video of her sister running and grabbing Annabelle. She ran off camera. The person holding the phone must have dropped it; he could be heard swearing and scrabbling about, trying to pick the phone up. He didn’t get a shot of the Jeep or the license plate, thank god, but this was devastating. His eyes went to the views—it was up over three million in just twelve hours. This was very bad.
Seeing Layla like this bit at him. Her whole body shook, and fear permeated the air around her. He grabbed the laptop from her and put it down before literally lifting her into his lap. He cupped her face, bringing her terror-filled eyes to his. He then covered her mouth, kissing her until the paralysis broke and she sobbed against him. She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes wide.
“What am I going to do? She is so recognizable! Someone will know. If not her, then Lexi! Oh my god!” He could see the panic was about to swamp her again so he summarily claimed her mouth. Hot lips drove off the panic, and Layla blinked in clear shock, her whole body trembling.
“What we are going to do is watch it again; See if there is anything which could identify her or Lexi. Then I am going to follow my instincts, which tell me I can hack that site and remove that video in under ten minutes.”
He watched a small smile spread on her lips before she stood and grabbed a slightly dusty bottle of scotch from a shelf. With the clink of glasses, she unceremoniously dropped back down beside him and poured herself an overly large drink. By the look of abject disgust on her face as she took a huge mouthful of the amber liquid and swallowed, he guessed she was not a regular drinker. This felt right—his fingers flew over the keyboard—it felt familiar. Beside him Layla refilled her glass and downed it again, screwing up her face in the process. He looked at her and shook his head. He reached out and plucked the bottle from her hand.
“Quiet, enough of that, Layla. Drinking will not change what has happened. We can only move forward and hope to mitigate the fallout.” His fingers danced over the keyboard and he fell into silence as the back code of the website scrolled on the screen. It was poorly protected, and it didn’t take him long to take down the posting. Unfortunately, it had been downloaded over forty thousand times. The internet was cruel when it came to social media—one thing could spread like a virus and become unstoppable.
“It is gone from that site, but I can’t guarantee someone else won’t upload it somewhere else. I couldn’t see her face, or her eyes. The only one who is recognizable is Lexi, and you only see one side of her face. They would have to know you damn well to know that little blond girl was your daughter.” He put the laptop down and grabbed the glass Layla had been using.
Pouring himself a drink, he watched the female that had saved him stare at the fire. He reached out and snagged her hand, and she looked at him with fearful eyes. When he pulled her gently, she followed and slowly climbed into his lap.
“It will be okay, so much stuff happens online that people will call it fake within twenty-four hours. Someone will have debunked the film, and everything will return to normal.” His hand rubbed her lower back in circles as her eyes moved to his.
“You think so? How did you learn to do that?”
“I have a feeling I have been around a long time. It is like computers are built into me—I knew just what to type, and when to type it. I guess I am a computer nerd.”
A ghost of a smile played over her lips as she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Nerds are hot.”
“I am glad of this, very glad.”