Coming Darkness E-Book

Susan-Alia Terry

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A 900-year-old vampire, a dangerously charming demon, and the Morning Star himself: they are the creatures that haunt human nightmares, but a new threat is coming that even nightmares fear to face.

Kai is having a rough week. His impulsiveness has led to consequences he'd rather not deal with. As a powerful vampire and Lucifer's lover, he views the petty supernatural politics as beneath him.

Lucifer is not inclined to listen when his estranged brothers come begging for help, preferring the comfortable life he has built with Kai. But when the archangels reveal that their Father is missing from Heaven, he realizes he can no longer ignore the family he walked away from.

Kai will have to question everything he thought was true, and whether their love is real. And soon, that may be the least of his problems.

This book contains adult content and is not recommended for readers under the age of 18.

Leseprobe

Coming Darkness

Susan-Alia Terry

Copyright (C) 2016 Susan-Alia Terry

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgements

Keith Abbott and everyone in his classes at the Jack Kerouac School in Naropa University for helping me develop this work from a loose collection of notes and ideas to a full-fledged narrative. Susan Livingston for your role as editor, even if life asked you to step aside. Rachel Johnson and Mindy DeBaise for your friendship, encouragement and enthusiasm. Joe Cook for the invaluable notes and feedback that helped me figure out what to keep, what to rewrite, and what to save for later. And to Rev. Treneater-Nur C. Horton for always being there to talk me down from the ledge and to help me remember who I truly am.

Dedication

To my Dad, who always believed in me, even when I didn't.

With a special thank you to CK for igniting the creative spark that inspired me to find my Voice.

One

“You're not wearing that.”

Suppressing a sigh, Kai looked down and watched his clothes change. Instead of black slacks, shirt, and boots, he was now attired in tailored tan and cream—with loafers. He hated loafers. He turned, waiting for his lover to enter the foyer.

Lucifer, white hair unbound and loose around his shoulders, with a recently acquired black cat in his arms, entered the foyer and fixed critical silver eyes on him. For someone who always wore shades of white—and who knew there were so many?—Lucifer had a lot to say about what Kai wore. In fact, Lucifer dressed him with such dedicated fervor that anyone less sympathetic would call him obsessed. It was why Kai had been trying to sneak out of the house before Lucifer caught sight of him.

“Come on, Luc, that's not practical, and you know it,” said Te, joining them in the foyer and changing Kai back into his original clothes. “How you expect him to do reconnaissance and retrieval in loafers and kakis, I'll never understand.”

“Thank you,” Kai said to him, smiling.

“I live with Philistines,” Lucifer said with a mock sneer. “The least you could do is wear silk.” Kai was now wearing a black, raw silk shirt, and he refused to admit he liked the way it felt.

“Are you both done?” he asked, trying for exasperation but only succeeding at fond acceptance.

Te laughed. Brown-skinned and gleaming from his bald head and single, gold earring to his white teeth, Kai was hard-pressed to remember a time when Te's silver eyes weren't sparkling with good humor. Always nattily dressed, he shared Lucifer's penchant for sharp, expensive clothes. Unlike Lucifer, however, Te had never met a color he didn't like or look good in. His current suit was red pinstripe, complete with matching bowler hat, bow tie, and spats.

Lucifer gave them his patented put-upon look and, with his nose in the air, sauntered into the adjacent sitting room. Taking a seat on a couch, he stretched out, positioning his long, lean body to the greatest visual effect. The cat mirrored his posture and stretched out atop him. Even after more than seven hundred years together, Kai never grew tired of watching the one he considered his mate. Lucifer held endless fascination for him, as well as his love and devotion.

Te entered the sitting room behind Lucifer, took a seat in an antique wing chair, and put his feet up on the matching footstool. It was always a surprise that the old and delicate furniture in the house didn't protest when Te sat on it. But then, his size was deceptive. True, he was at least six-foot-five and powerfully built, but his personality, much like Lucifer's, made it seem like he was so much larger.

“What's on tonight?” Te asked when the sixty-inch smart television came on.

Lucifer made no secret about how much he hated humans. In fact, he'd go out of his way to expound on that hatred to anyone who'd listen. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't enjoy the food, clothing, and endless gadgets created by them. The house was filled with anything that caught his fancy, including the latest technology.

“Housewives,” Lucifer answered as the channels flipped.

“Is that the one with Kendra?” Te asked, a bowl of popcorn appearing in his lap. Four more cats appeared, as if out of nowhere, and positioned themselves around the two seated figures.

“Not the Kendra you're thinking of, no.”

The big demon made a face and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Kai leaned against the doorjamb, taking a moment to enjoy his little family.

“Wait, wait, go back,” Te said.

“Is this Rosemary's Baby?” Lucifer asked, having flipped back to the channel requested. “Oh, it is. I almost missed it. Good catch.” He looked up at Kai and crooked his finger. “Come on, you know you want to stay.”

He was right. Rosemary's Baby was one of their favorite movies, and the pull to join them was very strong, but he had a job to do. Kai retreated to the coat rack by the door and removed his leather trench from it.

“I need to get going,” he said apologetically, donning the coat. “Te, would you mind giving me a lift?”

Te looked over and smiled. “You sure? Gregory's not going anywhere.”

“I'm sure.”

“Then of course. Happy hunting.”

With a last wave, Kai was gone.

Two

Starr Roberta Maxwell sat at her desk and contemplated killing her boss with the letter opener or, better yet, the stapler. It would take longer. Nothing was too good for William Ford Gregory III.

“Starr, did you fax those numbers to Geneva yet? What's taking you so long? And get me another cup of coffee. This one's cold,” Gregory, a.k.a. the Asshole, bellowed through the open office door.

As she walked to the door to answer him—she felt yelling in the workplace was unprofessional—she cursed her mother's naming choice and aspirations for her daughter for the umpteenth time since coming to work here. Introducing herself as Roberta had been a wasted exercise. The man had known her full name and, upon seeing her for the first time, had refused to call her that, instead choosing to inflect “Starr” in such a way as to remind her that she was not and never would be.

Telling herself again that this was just a temp job, and that once the week was over, she could burn the son-of-a-bitch in effigy, she answered politely, “I faxed it twenty minutes ago. It's after two in the morning in Geneva, so I doubt anyone's there to receive it.” She moved over to the desk and picked up his coffee cup.

“Of course they're there. That's what I pay them for. Where's my coffee? Slow and stupid. Makes me wonder what I'm paying you for.”

Roberta sighed and tried to keep it together. “I'll get Mr. Prideaux on the line and get you your coffee now, sir.”

She tried to make the “sir” sound like “fuck you” but failed. Her strict upbringing kicked in, refusing to let her be rude to her boss, no matter how rude he was to her. She hurried into the outer office, wondering which she should do first, the coffee or the phone call. She was screwed either way, so she refilled the mug, not bothering to brew fresh, but emptying the dregs that remained in the carafe. If she couldn't tell him to go fuck himself, she could at least fuck with his coffee. Wearing a small smile, she brought the cup back to his office and placed it carefully on the desk.

Returning to the outer office, she placed the call to Switzerland, preparing herself mentally to tell the Asshole there was no answer.

The line picked up on the third ring. “'Allo?”

Roberta inwardly collapsed in relief. “Yes, I have Mr. William Ford Gregory III calling for Mr. Pierre Prideaux.”

“This is Pierre.”

“Hold the line, please.”

“Mr. Gregory, I have Mr. Prideaux on the line; transferring now.”

“Pierre, you son of a bitch, how are ya? How's that beautiful wife? Excellent. Did your little girl get the birthday present I sent? Loved it, did she? Good, good. I know it's late, and I appreciate this; I really do. Listen, my girl said she sent you the fax. Well, did you get it? You did? Okay, this is what we need to do…”

Roberta quietly closed the door to Gregory's office, effectively muting his voice. She could feel her eyes prickling, and she closed them and held her breath, refusing to let herself cry. Hearing the concern and sincere apology in his voice just seconds after yelling at her made her want to break down. How could he be so nice to everyone but her?

Just three more days, she told herself. Three more days, and I am so outta here.

* * *

Cloaked in shadow, Kai sat on the high wall surrounding the Gregory compound. He'd been there two days now, watching the comings and goings, and was eager to get this job done. The complex where Gregory lived and worked was a huge, sprawling thing that covered at least forty acres of land in upstate New York, about an hour's drive from the city. The driveway was long and wound through the property until it reached the main buildings, which were hidden by foliage at the end of the serpentine path. Obligatory surveillance cameras dotted the landscape, providing more than adequate coverage of the property. There were guards posted at the gate and, Kai knew, at a checkpoint closer to the buildings. All in all, the security was surprisingly light and would not pose a problem.

What did pose a problem, however, were the cats. They were everywhere—prowling among the trees, hunting, playing with each other, and lounging in the grass. He could see no spot that was clear of the little beasts. There was no way to approach the building without causing a ruckus. No doubt, Gregory had anticipated an attack from Te and prepared accordingly.

A strong scent of ozone with an undertone of cinnamon filled his nostrils, and his lips tilted in a smile. “Uriel. Here I was, thinking you'd abandoned me.”

“Careful, vampire, lest you grow too familiar,” Uriel responded.

“As if you'd ever let that happen.”

Kai turned to look up at the archangel, checking to see if his retort had gone too far. Even though Uriel had taken to accompanying him on these jobs, Kai had only just begun to relax in his presence and still felt uncomfortable with their banter. As usual, Uriel gave no signs of displeasure, although Kai had no idea what that would look like if he did.

Dressed in a black tunic with red accents, black breeches, and black leather boots, Uriel's shoulder-length, vibrant red hair framed attractive features that might as well have been carved in stone for all the expression they held. Kai wondered if Uriel's skin would crack if he dared to smile.

Uriel didn't look at him, but instead let his copper eyes roam the grounds. It was just as well. Having that heavy gaze on him always made Kai uncomfortable, as if Uriel was judging him and finding him lacking—which, given his general air of disdain, was probably true. Before these visits, Kai had known the archangel only by his reputation, through stories. Uriel was known as an assassin and a zealot. Grand-scale destruction à la Sodom and Gomorrah was in keeping with his reputation. This helpful version standing next to him was not. Of all of his lover's family, he found Uriel's presence the most unsettling.

“It appears you have a problem,” Uriel said.

“Merely a nuisance,” Kai bluffed, pretending he hadn't been on that wall for two days because of the cats. Leave it to Uriel to not only point out the obvious but also make him feel inadequate in the process.

“How had you planned to get by them?”

Kai looked up. Was that amusement in Uriel's voice? Damn him. “I hadn't actually gotten that far,” he admitted, feeling his throat tighten in embarrassment. “I could use your help.” Kai knew that was what the archangel had wanted to hear and hated having to ask.

Uriel glided off the wall to the ground. The cats in the immediate vicinity came running. They purred, rubbed, and wound themselves between his feet, altogether thrilled with his presence. The Egyptians had been right to revere cats. Uniquely attuned to the supernatural, the presence of a cat could keep ghosts and spirits away, and their saliva was poisonous to Other-kin. While the cats couldn't hurt Kai, they would raise the alarm, and having Uriel prevent them from doing so would be immensely helpful.

Kai watched from his perch as Uriel walked among them, stooping every now and then to stroke, pet, and scratch behind their raised ears. Eventually, he picked up a smoky grey one and walked a few feet ahead with it in his arms.

He turned and addressed Kai. “Come down, vampire. They will not announce your presence.”

* * *

Roberta looked at the pictures of two cats on her desk, her predecessor's pets. She wondered what had happened to them. The woman who'd held the position full-time had died quite suddenly of a stroke after working there for almost fifteen years. Roberta couldn't imagine it. She'd been the third temp in as many days and, because of it, had been offered a ridiculous amount of money to take—and keep—the job. Having a reputation for being able to work for anyone, no matter how difficult they were, had its perks.

She'd been under the impression that she had seen it all, and that she could handle everything with a smile and professionalism. Gregory tested that theory within the first fifteen minutes of their meeting. He was rude, crass, and insulting. By the end of the first hour, she was in tears in the bathroom.

It was then that she realized the reason behind the forty-dollars-an-hour salary—it was a bribe, pure and simple. The agency had finally acquired his company's business and were eager to keep it. If she couldn't handle it, they had no one who could. For forty dollars an hour, she could do it. Just the idea of that kind of salary left her thrilled. She could actually create a savings account.

That was then. Now she just wanted to make it to Friday. Once Friday came, she would refuse to continue the assignment, and they could bribe someone else. She could be bought, but only so far.

She blew out a breath and looked out the large windows of the outer office. It had surprised her to find out that Gregory's home and office were located in a sprawling estate in upstate New York. As it turned out, he was a workaholic recluse that lived and worked on his property, and he expected certain others in his employ to mimic his bizarre lifestyle.

She'd taken residence in his former secretary's cottage, an adorable, one-story, picture-book structure with a stone fireplace and exposed stone walls. A dormitory was provided for other employees. She had yet to understand why he required so many to live on-site. The main office building housed a cafeteria, a small convenience store, and a fitness room with a spa and sauna. The meals were delicious, and most of the workers were friendly, if not slightly odd. Overall, it didn't seem like a bad place to work. She had free room and board, plus a very nice salary.

Unfortunately, the person who made it unbearable was the person she had to work for.

She admonished herself for being seduced by the money, free food, and free place to live. A month had already passed. At the end of every week, she intended to quit and tell them to take the job and shove it, but she never made the call. She would tell herself it wasn't that bad, and to rest over the weekend and see how she felt on Monday morning, planning to call then if she really wanted to quit.

But she always managed to talk herself into staying. When she was first offered the cottage, she'd refused, saying she didn't want to move until she had permanent employment. It was a polite way of saying, “No fucking way.” Then, abruptly, her apartment in Brooklyn had gone condo, and she'd needed to move. The Asshole's wife and personal aide, Catherine, a.k.a. the Iron Lady, had stepped in and had her things packed up and moved. Just like that. Roberta had wanted to object, but every time the opportunity arose, her reasons felt flimsy, and she felt ashamed for even thinking about complaining. Besides, living on the property was so much easier.

A couple of the cats outside chased each other past the window. Were her predecessor's cats among them? When she had asked about the cats, The Iron Lady had told her that she and her husband loved cats so much that they had made the grounds a sanctuary for them.

Roberta found it hard to believe that either of them could love anything that wasn't power or money. They had loads of both and no heirs. Maybe the cats would get it all, unless the two planned to live forever or have it buried with them, neither of which would surprise her.

* * *

“After all this time with Lucifer, vampire, it surprises me that you are still afraid of cats,” Uriel said as they walked, still stroking the cat in his arms.

“I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them,” Kai countered, eyes on the ground in front of him as he navigated through the surrounding animals. “Gregory is in one of the buildings ahead. Can you tell which one?”

“No, he is hiding himself. His presence is masked and echoes throughout. I could find him eventually, but obtaining the information the old-fashioned way would be faster.”

“And probably more fun,” Kai added, before tripping over a large, orange tabby. “You did that on purpose,” he accused. The cat blinked and chirruped back innocently. He had no doubt that both Uriel and the cat were laughing at him. “Do that again, and you'll be warming my feet as a pair of slippers,” he told the cat, who continued to appear maddeningly unfazed.

“It was my understanding, vampire, that your kind is celebrated for its heightened reflexes.” Uriel's lips curved, hinting at a smile. “Perhaps the centuries spent with my brother have made you soft.”

Kai stopped walking and turned to face him. “You would make yourself unwelcome so soon, Uriel?”

The archangel looked it at him, assessing. He inclined his head. “Careful, vampire, lest you become thin-skinned in your old age.”

Kai couldn't help the smirk. Despite his discomfort, he liked Uriel. They resumed walking.

Eventually they came to a stop at a row of hedges. There were no cats on the other side. Uriel put the grey cat he was holding gently on the ground and gave it one last stroke.

“Those runes on the edge,” he pointed out a line of stones, “keep the cats from crossing the boundary of the hedge. The amount of effort, time, and expense Gregory put into warding the property is impressive. He is well protected from all but my kind—and you, of course.”

Te had told Kai that Gregory had magical deterrents, which, due to Kai's protections, neither of them had taken seriously. The cats had been a surprise, but thanks to Uriel, they had been only a minor inconvenience. It all proved Gregory's guilt rather eloquently. No one went to this much trouble if they weren't hiding from something.

* * *

Roberta's stomach growled. She wondered if she could get away to get something to eat, maybe bring the Asshole his dinner as well. Bound to get yelled at either way, after a quick look around to make sure that nothing needed doing right then, she decided to chance it. On the way past the door to the inner office, she listened, trying to determine if he was winding up the phone call and would be calling for her soon. He was still engaged, so she kept moving toward the office's outer doors.

Taking a fortifying breath, she stepped out of the office, keeping her head down and eyes on the floor. Moving quickly, she passed the Asshole's bodyguards stationed along the hall. Asian in countenance, tall and lean, they wore their hair long, varying in style from a single, thick braid to many braids tied back from their faces. Dressed identically in black, with intricate tattoos in the tribal style on every inch of uncovered skin, they had an air of menace about them that always made her stomach twist. They didn't carry guns that she could see, but each had a mean-looking blade attached to his hip. She wasn't afraid of them exactly. They just made her uneasy.

Having made it through the bodyguard gauntlet, she took a relieved breath as she turned down the corridor toward the cafeteria. Once again, her eyes didn't roam as she passed the stone statues that lined the walls at regular intervals.

The Iron Lady had horrible taste in art. The hideous things were all over the place. Then there were the nasty knick-knacks on the Asshole's desk and shelves, some of which looked like they could have been made from parts of real animals—or people. Thinking about them made her shiver in disgust. Once, when she'd commented on the décor, the Iron Lady told her that both she and the Asshole loved primitive art and that they made frequent trips to forgotten places around the world specifically to add unusual pieces to their collection.

Upon entering the cafeteria, she immediately forgot her train of thought and stood frowning at the menu for a moment. Once recovered, she decided on a cheeseburger with bleu cheese and fries for herself—damn the calories—and meatloaf with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables for the Asshole. Undoubtedly he would look at her plate and ask her if she'd “ever seen a salad, ha ha.” She would laugh politely and wish she'd poisoned his meatloaf.

Of course she knew she was fat; it was obvious, like having brown eyes. But there were other things about her body that she was happy with. At six feet tall, she towered over both the Asshole and the Iron Lady, with heels and without. Her hair was long, thick, and heavy, and she loved how it accepted a curl or color at her whim. She favored a reddish-brown dye for it, believing it gave life to her otherwise unremarkable appearance. It didn't all have to center on her weight, and she was fine with that.

Unfortunately, when she'd been to see her parents last Christmas, her mother, a perfect size six, had turned her nose up at Roberta's insistence that her weight not be a topic of discussion. Since Roberta had “thrown away” her “promising career in entertainment,” her mother felt that she should understand that all she had was her looks, actually putting forth the question—what man wants a fat wife?

Roberta was probably all of ten when she'd realized her mother was delusional when it came to her daughter's supposed talents. She'd suffered through dance classes, painfully aware that she wasn't graceful, a realization that sapped her confidence, which in turn made her an even worse dancer—as if that were possible. She had nightmares about singing classes. Regardless of how much she'd practiced, she could not make her voice match the music. She was hopelessly tone deaf and tormented by guilt because of her lack of ability.

Still, she'd gone along with it, enduring the embarrassed looks by the other kids and parents as her mother bragged about how Roberta would be a star. Passable at acting, she'd managed a few commercials as a young adult, but after a very frank—and private—talk with her agent, Roberta had quit.

Temp work had been her salvation. Finding that she had a knack for office work gave her a deep sense of pride—finally she was good at something. Of course, her mother never forgave her and still lamented the fact that she'd squandered her chance at stardom. Subsequently, holiday trips and the occasional phone call was about all the contact with her family that she could stand.

When the meals were ready and packaged, she gathered them and made her way back to the office, wondering whether the Asshole had noticed she was gone or not. Afraid she had been away too long, she decided to take the back way through the kitchen. It would get her back to the office much quicker than if she returned the way she had come.

When she returned, the inner office doors were open, and she could hear the Asshole yelling. Assuming he was yelling at her—she seemed to be the only person he ever yelled at—Roberta momentarily tuned him out while she placed her dinner on her desk. Standing straight and tightening her mental armor, Roberta carried his dinner to his office, prepared for a verbal lashing.

* * *

Once Kai passed the hedge border, he caught a scent and understood why the cats were confined to the lawn. Scenting the air more thoroughly told him that there were five werewolves ahead. He didn't need his nose to tell him that they were all half-breeds, as no pureblood were would ever work for a human.

Taking off at speed, he headed straight for them. They stood in a group near the second checkpoint. The shifts must have just changed; they were at ease, laughing and smoking.

Not slowing, using surprise to his advantage, Kai snapped the necks of two of them. Half-breeds only changed during the full moon, and since that was a few weeks away, the best they had to answer his challenge was heightened senses and speed. Given his age alone, it wasn't even close to being enough. They circled him, preparing to pounce. He dodged one, intending to leap at another when three flaming arrows appeared out of nowhere, taking them out instantly.

“Dammit, Uriel.” Kai spun toward his offending companion.

“Come along, vampire. Don't dawdle,” Uriel said as he passed, heading up the driveway.

Disarmed, the bark of laughter from his own throat surprised Kai. Implausible as it was, he was more amused than irritated. He jogged up the road and stopped alongside the archangel. Two mongrel guards stood talking near the entrance. They appeared calm, not having heard the commotion from further down the driveway.

“From now on, let me handle it,” Kai said, giving Uriel a sidelong look.

“As you wish, vampire.”

“I have a name, you know,” he muttered, before walking up the driveway toward the guards.

“Of course. Vampire,” Uriel replied.

Kai snorted and shook his head. He'd never get the last word.

Moving toward the mongrels, he felt gleeful anticipation at the opportunity to stomp out two bastards of the race. Reigning in his hatred, he strolled up the driveway, reminding himself that he was here in a professional capacity, and that called for him to dispatch them cleanly, without lingering long enough to torture. Knowing they couldn't sense him, he moved at a leisurely pace, giving them ample time to see him. Once they spotted him, the one closest to him raised his gun.

“That's far enough,” he said.

“Mongrels with guns,” Kai replied, not slowing his pace. “If you had any self-respect, you'd be ashamed.”

“Maybe you'll rethink that,” the grinning guard replied and pulled the trigger.

The round hit Kai in the upper chest. He grunted in pain even as he sprinted forward, grabbed the gun, and smashed it through the guard's head. The other guard shot him in the back.

Kai cursed, turned, and leapt, snatching the gun while simultaneously kicking out and breaking the guard's legs. The guard screamed and fell to the ground. Kai broke the gun in half and threw the pieces away.

Even now he could feel the bullets working their way back out. He didn't like being shot, and he would probably use more effort to avoid the bullets but for one thing—the look on his assailants' faces when the bullets didn't stop him. It was worth the pain every time.

“When the first bullet didn't take me down, you should have switched tactics,” he admonished, squatting down to address the guard at eye level.

The shocked guard tried to shrink back and away. “Those bullets were not only silver, but they were blessed and soaked in holy water. You were supposed to go down with the first shot.”

“Unfortunately for you, I didn't.” The sound of the bullets hitting the ground punctuated his reply. He pulled a flask from his coat, unscrewed the cap, then took a mouthful, and swallowed. Reaching out with the flask in his hand, he poured a little on the guard who screamed and tried to move away. His terrified eyes fixed on Kai.

“What are you?”

“Is that really relevant considering your current state?”

The mongrel on the ground looked helplessly back at him. Kai took another sip of the holy water. “Gregory. Where is he?” The guard's eyes never left the flask.

“How do I know you won't pour any more on me?”

“You don't. What you should have guessed, however, is that I certainly will if you don't answer correctly.” Following through, Kai poured another thin stream over the vampire's broken legs, eliciting more screams.

“Please—down the hall and to the left. Stop,” the guard pleaded, frantically waving his arms.

Kai inclined his head. “Thank you.” He recapped the flask, pocketed it, and then stood up to leave.

“Wait,” the guard cried after him. At Kai's inquiring look, he spoke again. “You can't leave me like this.” He gestured to his broken and melting legs.

“What would you suggest?”

The guard dropped his eyes and looked away.

“If you can't ask for it, you don't deserve it.” With a dark smile, Kai turned and walked away, the sounds of the guard's soft sobbing at his back.

Torturing mongrels before killing them was a favorite pastime The idea that he could actually kill one without even a little bit of torture had been truly absurd. He chuckled to himself, holy water was like acid on mongrel flesh and even if washed away would still poison them to death. He satisfied himself with the knowledge that the guard's death would be slow and painful, even if he wouldn't be around to see it.

Uriel was waiting patiently for him at the door. Kai felt rather than saw the archangel's amusement.

“What?” he asked, unable to suppress his smile.

“Are you quite finished? There is no need to rush on my account.”

Kai laughed outright. Mongrels were vermin; Uriel understood his mindset. They entered the building together. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Kai could feel the magic, old and hanging with oppressive weight in the air, but he couldn't account for its origin. Uriel pointed out the statues along the corridor. Kai looked to him in question.

“To make the uncommon seem common, to confuse and confound the mind into not asking questions,” the archangel replied in explanation.

Kai instinctively wanted to smash them. Uriel saved him the trouble, launching arrows and destroying the statues as they passed. No more guards came running at the noise, which was surprising. The thought that there would be no more obstacles was slightly disappointing, until they turned the corner.

“Ronin.” Kai's spoken word met an accompanying surprised breath from Uriel. Six tattooed fighters stood halfway down the hall, blades drawn. How could Te not have known that Gregory had Ronin guards?

“I cannot help in this fight,” Uriel answered his unasked question. “I can do this, however.”

A sword appeared in Kai's hand. He hefted it and took a few practice swings, finding it not only beautiful but nicely balanced. When he looked up at Uriel and whispered his thanks, Kai was surprised to see what looked like compassion in Uriel's copper eyes, although he said nothing. Kai turned his head back toward his opponents and took a step forward, searching his memories for everything his master, who had been Ronin-trained, had ever told him about fighting them.

First, of course, was to never engage them in a fight, because he would lose. Second, engage briefly while searching for any opportunity to run. The Ronin code of honor forbade chasing a retreating opponent. Fear drew his nerves tight and beat around his gut. Neither he nor his master was a coward, but facts were facts. Ronin were unbeatable.

The fact that Gregory had this ancient race as guards was surprising. Finding someone who actually knew the Ronin rituals was practically impossible, and even if you did, their rituals were highly precise and convoluted. One misstep and it was over—the seeker was either dead or dissuaded from continuing so thoroughly that they were unable to even speak of the experience.

Ronin never turned their violence against each other. Stories of them leaving the battlefield when opposing sides commanded them to fight each other were legend.

They were telepaths, masters of every imaginable weapon, and possessed supernatural strength, speed, and stamina—killing machines. Even the Kazat knew enough not to tangle with them.

Kai breathed deeply and let his instincts take over. His last thought, as he took another step forward, was to wonder if Luc had listened to him and not put an anti-beheading sigil in place, because he would surely die if he did.

Walking down the corridor, one Ronin broke from the group to meet him. Their code dictated that if they outnumbered a foe, they would only fight in numbers with matched opponents. Since he was alone, it was one at a time, a small mercy.

They stopped a few paces apart. Kai bowed as was appropriate, not missing the look of pleased surprise on their faces before the bow was returned. A beat later, he raised his sword and engaged. The two circled each other, testing skill. Each thrust that was parried, each swing ducked, brought them closer to the actual fight. Kai relaxed into each posture and move, muscle memory making him more confident in his skill.

Too soon, the testing phase was over, and the fight ramped up. He managed to duck a swing to his head, and followed up with a thrust to the gut that was gracefully sidestepped. Trying a disarming move, he caught air as the Ronin disappeared and reappeared behind him. He recovered, barely managing to prevent being split in two. They continued, neither gaining ground, nor Kai losing any.

“Enough.” His opponent immediately stopped, bowed to him—deeper than before, Kai noticed—and stepped back.

The one who had spoken stepped forward. Kai had the distressing thought that since he could not beat the other, he would have to fight this one, and on and on until his strength was gone. His earlier confidence evaporated, leaving him saturated with uncertainty.

“You are Ronin-trained.”

Taken aback, it took Kai a moment to answer. “My master, Aram, was, yes. He, in turn, taught me.”

The Ronin nodded, a look of admiration and amusement on his face. “Aram. Ronin remember him to be disciplined and diligent, a fine student. You honor him.”

Kai bowed at the acknowledgement, unsure as to where this exchange was going, even as the mention of his master tightened invisible fingers around his heart.

“The reason for your presence has been ascertained. You may pursue your objective.” At Kai's bewildered look, the Ronin explained, “Lord Te is a friend. Ronin will not interfere.”

Once again, they bowed deeply to Kai and passed by him on the way to the exit. As one, they stopped in front of Uriel, bowing deeply once again. The one who spoke to Kai stepped up and spoke so quietly that even Kai's sensitive hearing could not catch it. The archangel stood still, a look of astonishment on his face before he quickly schooled his features, inclining his head at the Ronin as they then passed him, exiting the building.

Kai knew better than to ask Uriel what the Ronin had said, even though he was bursting to know. He contented himself with seeing respect light Uriel's eyes when he joined him in the middle of the corridor. Kai believed Uriel no longer saw him as just Lucifer's pet or Te's errand boy, but as a warrior, and pride bloomed inside of him. Uriel could have his secrets.

They headed straight for the inner office and opened the door. Gregory, deep in a telephone conversation, looked up and frowned at the interruption.

“Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?” he barked. “Starr? Where is she?” he asked, looking out into the office. “Pierre, I'll have to call you back,” he said into the phone before hanging up. He sprang out of his chair and pushed past the two intruders to the outer office. “Starr,” he called again, even though it was obvious that she wasn't there. “Stupid woman, where did you go?” he muttered under his breath. He peeked out the door, “And where the fuck is my security?”

Kai and Uriel moved farther into his office and waited for him to return, which he did almost immediately.

“I should have known those Ronin were too good to be true. Undefeatable my ass,” he said, as he marched to his desk and sat down.

Although Kai knew he was far older, Gregory appeared to be a vibrantly healthy man of about fifty with a thin build and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair.

Now that the surprise had worn off, he looked them over with shrewd, brown eyes. “Well, what do you want? Who sent you? Was it the Saudis? The Russians? Whatever they're paying you, I'll triple it.”

Uriel scoffed at him from his place by the window.

“I was sent by the only one who should matter to you,” Kai replied, placing his sword carefully on the desk. Gregory looked at him, considering, and then continued as if he hadn't heard.

“Well, hell, you obviously bested my men. How would you like a job? Apparently I need new security.” He laughed.

Kai placed his hands on the desk and leaned over it. “Lord Te is very upset with you.”

At the mention of Te's name, Gregory's eyes grew wide, and his skin paled with sudden understanding. “There must be some mistake. Let's get him on the phone. I'm sure we can straighten this out.” He reached for the phone, and Kai grabbed his wrist, trapping it on the desk.

“No, there's no mistake. Apparently, you've gotten greedy in your dotage. Shortages in tributes, I believe.” Kai squeezed Gregory's wrist, pressing it against the desk, making the man wince. “Did you think Lord Te wouldn't notice? He has, and I've come to collect his due.”

“Of course. Let me get to my safe. You can have it all with my sincerest apologies.”

Kai slowly shook his head, a cruel smile distorting his features. “In exchange for wealth, power, and immortality, you promised certain things. You signed a contract. A contract you have since reneged on. You think you can simply open your safe to make things right? You of all people should know that the time for such an easy resolution has passed.” He seized Gregory by the neck, drawing him up close to his face. “The payment that's due now? Flesh and, at my discretion, blood,” he said, licking elongated fangs.

“Wait, wait, let's not do anything rash.”

“Rash? You mean like this?” Kai grabbed a flailing forearm and squeezed, breaking bones.

Gregory screamed. “Please, please, I'll do anything, just—just let me go. Say you couldn't find me. Please!”

“No.” Kai shook him, and he went limp. “That's it?” He shook Gregory again, and the man flopped like a rag doll. “After all this trouble—you had me fight Ronin.” He shook him again. “And for what?” He dropped the man, who cradled his arm and crumpled at his feet. “Sniveling. You don't deserve Lord Te's consideration, much less his mercy.”

Rage, hot and insidious, bubbled within Kai on the heels of his dissatisfaction. He thought he'd have to do a lot more convincing, spill a little blood even. Anything but have this pitiful excuse for a mogul show his belly so easily. He noticed a picture on the desk, and an idea began to percolate. For all the trouble he'd gone through Kai wanted—no, needed his pound of flesh, and he figured he'd found a way to get it.

“Is this your wife?” Gregory looked up at him with dawning horror. “She benefited from Lord Te's generosity as well, didn't she? I think I'll bring her in as a bonus.” He didn't try to conceal his glee at the man's terrified scream.

“No!” he shrieked with renewed vigor. Kai planted a booted foot on his back, pinning the now struggling man to the floor. “I won't tell you. I don't care what you do to me, but not her… not her.”

Finally, some life, some fight. Kai took in the trapped and sobbing figure, mentally reviewing the damage he could inflict that wouldn't be fatal, when he realized they weren't alone. Looking up, he saw a woman standing in the doorway, transfixed.

* * *

Stepping in the doorway, Roberta stopped cold. Standing in the middle of the spacious office were two men. The one dressed in black had a dark, olive complexion, long, black hair, and tattoos on his face that trailed down his neck and under his collar. The other had brilliant red hair and looked like he stepped out of a fairy tale, and was that a bow and quiver on his back?

The most astonishing part of this scene, though, was not the oddity of the men, which was par for the course around here, but that the tattooed man had the Asshole pinned under his boot. Crying.

She didn't know what to do. A small voice somewhere in the back of her mind told her to run before any of them noticed her.

Too late. The tattooed man stopped what he was doing and looked at her. The other one, following his gaze, turned to look at her as well. Both gazes fixed her to the spot, and she trembled.

“His wife?” Tattooed man asked, taking a step toward her. “Where is his wife?”

“Don't you tell this bloodsucking son-of-a-bitch, you fat fucking cow. Don't you say a fucking word.” The Asshole raised himself onto his knees and shouted at her.

Even on his knees and blubbering, he insults me. She felt a tickle of satisfaction when the tattooed man cuffed him on the side of his head.

“That's no way to speak to a lady,” he told the Asshole, who started another bout of crying.

“Please, you can't take my wife. Let me—let me call Lord Te. I'm sure we can work something out.” He was alternately trying to grab the man's pant leg and shying away from touching him. Roberta watched, fascinated, as he did this a few times while making his pleas.

She pitied him, which surprised her, since the only thing she had felt for him since the day they'd met was intense hatred. The tattooed man drew a metal band attached to a length of chain out of his coat pocket and, grabbing the Asshole by the hair, fastened the metal band—a collar?—around his neck.

That's it. I'm asleep at my desk. There is no way something this crazy could be real.

“You were asked a question.” The man out of a fairy tale addressed her, immediately dispelling her illusion. “You would do well to answer it.”

He came toward her. Finally able to move, she threw the tray at him and turned to run. Vaguely she thought it odd that she didn't hear the tray hit him or crash to the floor. That thought drowned in the realization that she wasn't moving.

“Turn around.”

Her body was not her own, as it obeyed without her consent. Absently, she noted the tray positioned neatly on the floor by the door, as if she'd carefully placed it there. The man was moving toward her now. Too late she realized she shouldn't look into his eyes. Her will to do anything but what he wanted dissolved the instant she did. Something about him squashed any sense of self-preservation. He burned through her, and she would gladly smolder to a cinder and not lift a finger to save herself.

“Knock it off, Uriel.” She heard an exasperated voice say. Uriel? What a beautiful name. The tattooed man brushed past the one named Uriel to come toward her, leading the Asshole by the leash.

“Do you want the information or not?” Uriel replied, never breaking eye contact with her.

The conversation flowed around her as she floated on white puffy clouds of adoration.

“Not if you make a drooling idiot out of her, I don't.”

Uriel's hair is so red. It can only be what true red looks like.

“Do you actually care?”

This was the red that nature and man alike strove to capture. Vibrant fire! The truth of it will always elude them, but I see it. I know. She did and was warmed from the inside by the knowledge, knowing it was special and only for her.

“Yes, I do actually, and you should too.”

* * *

Kai looked at the blank look on the woman's face and shook his head, disgusted. He'd warmed to Uriel but now felt a rush of disappointment as he was reminded how ruthless the angels were in the pursuit of their goals, innocents be damned. It galled him that they were so unnecessarily cruel.

The woman smiled in delight when Uriel raised his hand toward her. “Take my hand, child,” he said. The oozing sweetness of his voice was nauseating. He watched as the woman took Uriel's hand. “Now, this one's wife is hiding from me. Do you know where she is?”

“Most likely she's in their house on the grounds,” the woman replied, breathless.

“Good girl,” praised Uriel. “Picture it in your mind… that's it.”

They were all instantly transported to the foyer of the main house. Gregory moaned. The woman swooned and would have fallen if Kai hadn't caught her. He gently lowered her limp body to the ground, throwing a murderous glare at Uriel in the process. Once he'd released the woman, Kai turned to Gregory.

“Now, call your wife. If you try to warn her, I swear to you I will request that you be given to me, and your fate will be ten times worse than the worst Lord Te could ever do. Do you understand?”