There was a cold and terrible fury in his eyes when he
mentioned Asmodeus.
“Sssh,” she said and gestured for him to keep his voice down.
“Yes.”
Another of them looked at her slightly askance, his skin
like polished ebony, with shimmers of silver that slid beneath it like
moonlight on a primordial lake. In the cold light his eyes were a lambent
silver touched with aqua.
“I’m Ba’al. Hearing your warning, we put silence around this
room.”
There was no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that Asmodeus had been
correct in his description of his people.
Every single one of them were tall, gorgeous, sexier than
hell, beautifully built and generously endowed beneath the light, open vests
and loose, drawstring pants they wore.
Asmodeus had been right in more than one way.
Gabriel’s body responded nearly automatically to them, to
the Daemonae, to so much testosterone, to so many whirling, glowing eyes,
twitching tails and flared wings in the same room.
Intense sexual heat flashed through her.
But she belonged to Asmodeus. She was his.
Already her heart ached for him, yearned for him.
Was it possible she truly loved him? In so short a time?
There was an undeniable connection between them. She knew
his mind now as she knew no other, intimately. You couldn’t lie, mind to mind.
She knew his honor, his courage, his determination.
A kind of breathless wonder filled her, a sudden stillness,
a certainty, as both heart and soul lightened.
She took a deep breath.
Her career had always been important to her, she was good at
what she did and she knew it. She was also a woman in a field dominated by men.
And a small woman at that. Where a man could be merely good, she had to be
outstanding. She dared not make the kinds of mistakes in relationships a man
could make, could not stand the slightest stain on her record or have her
judgment called into question. So work had taken up all her time and there had
been no room for anything but the most casual relationships, all kept firmly
separate from work.
The few men who had come close had, in the end, not matched
the qualifications Gabriel required—a sense of honor, intelligence and a sex
drive that could match her own.
Until now.
She couldn’t deny the truth. She had fallen in love with
Asmodeus.
But that was for later.
Gabriel looked at those who had come.
“Well, you won’t believe this,” she said, with a wry grin,
“but my name is Gabriel.”
Every one of them straightened a little to stare at her in
bemusement, and a few with outright amusement, including Ashtoreth for all his
apparent sternness. His features lightened. It was just so startling, that
change.
“Truth,” she said, holding up her hand as she would if she
were taking an oath.
Shaking his head, Ashtoreth said, smiling, his tone amused,
“Trust Asmodeus to find himself an angel for his
mishea
.”
Despite the circumstances, she had to smile back but time
was growing short. She had to hurry this up.
“I need your help if you want to set him free.”
Once more she was the focus of a dozen or so lambent eyes.
Another of them looked at her as if she were insane and
said, “Help? He is our prince. Of course we will help.”
Prince? There was no time to think about that, but suddenly
a lot of other things fell into place. Not least of which was that Templeton
would not have summoned a lesser demon when he could have a prince. It
shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.
“Ba’al,” Ashtoreth said sharply, his golden eyes glowing
with fury. “Asmodeus, he is a prisoner?”
Gabriel nodded. “But not for long if this works. It might be
a trap to catch more of you as Asmodeus was caught but there may be a way if we
move fast.”
“There is no risk we will not take for Asmodeus,” Ashtoreth
said.
If Asmodeus could conjure up those firepots, could they
conjure up her gun, her badge? The picture of them was in her head, she longed
for them, felt naked without them. It was something she hadn’t dared to
consider when she was with Asmodeus as it was extremely unlikely that
Templeton’s watching men would have failed to notice.
“Can any of you get my weapon? My badge?”
A gesture and Ashtoreth produced both, her gun in her
holster.
Like Asmodeus and the firepots, they were suddenly just
there in his hand.
Magic.
Gabriel blinked.
“Damn,” she said in surprise as she took them.
Ashtoreth looked at her. “The picture of them was clear in
your head.”
After all she’d seen it was still startling.
With a shake of her head, she maintained focus.
She had always carried light, small-caliber weapons, because
there was no point in her wrists aching when she needed to keep them steady,
and second because, if you were good enough, that should be all you would need.
She was good enough.
There wasn’t much time. She concealed both beneath the loose
folds of the dress.
“Can you get the iron off him?” she asked.
Knowing how it chafed him, she didn’t know if any of them
could touch it either.
His horror reflected in his voice, Ashtoreth said, tightly,
“They put iron on him?”
Shadows moved in those golden eyes, fiery sparks whirling as
his face set.
Gabriel nodded.
Grimly, he nodded and said, “We can.”
Letting out a long, slow breath, Gabriel looked at them. It
wasn’t the first time she had directed an operation like this, but never with
demons…Daemonae.
It had not been her intention to call them into the circle,
but if she could somehow manage to summon them while outside it…
For a moment she considered having them try to take the
place but it was too much of a risk. There was too great a chance a warning
would get out. With Asmodeus still out there, she couldn’t, didn’t dare, take
the chance that Templeton would kill him or hold him hostage. Not with the risk
to his people. Or him.
“Do you have a plan?” Ashtoreth asked.
She looked at him steadily and nodded. It was what she did.
She outlined what she had in mind.
Those golden eyes met hers evenly.
He inclined his head in respect, eyes glowing.
* * * * *
The land they drove through was heavily wooded, the trees
lush and green. It was such a contrast to the barren landscape to which
Asmodeus had become accustomed. With a sigh, he looked out the window of the
limousine and up at the clear blue sky. He could almost feel his wings flex,
the yearning to be free was so intense.
Except his wings were not there.
He looked at the faint reflection of his face in the glass
of the window. As much as it was his own, in a way, it had been so long since
he had seen this human face that it was almost as unfamiliar to him as a
stranger’s. The lines, planes and angles of it were his, but the color was
wrong, no horns sprouted from his forehead, and his wings did not rise behind
him. He flexed his hands and felt the iron shift on his wrists.
With interest, he watched a motorcycle pass them on the
highway. What would it be like to ride one of those? It would be much like
flying, the wind blowing through your hair, the sense of speed. Longing tugged
at him.
The car turned from the highway onto a dirt road.
Already Asmodeus could feel something amiss and then he saw
the gout of flame rise up from a pipe just as the trees gave way to a great
open area filled with machinery, more pipes and equipment.
It was devastation, the trees had been cut down in great
swaths, the puddles gave off rainbow shimmers, the soil was blackened and
churned. He almost shuddered at the sense of violation of the earth. He didn’t
know what this was, but it was wrong.
All the car doors were flung open. All but one.
The driver hopped out of the car and opened the door for
Templeton.
Everyone else stepped out of the car nearly simultaneously.
His three guards and the man with the
Book
.
An anxious little man wearing an ill-fitting suit hurried to
meet them, his eyes frantic and worried.
“Mr. Templeton…sir…uh,” the man said, swallowing nervously,
“perhaps this might not be the best time to visit.”
The little man glanced at Asmodeus and his eyes widened just
a little. Asmodeus could smell the fear on him as the man’s gaze returned to
Templeton, and the man visibly cringed.
One eyebrow arched at the temerity, Templeton’s expression
grew thunderous, further cowing the man. Templeton’s jaw worked.
“Isn’t it, Mr. Kenyon?” he said, his tone icy.
If the man hadn’t been frightened before, he certainly was
then.
“Mr. Templeton,” Kenyon stammered, “we have a problem.”
His tone almost too even, Templeton said, “A problem.”
The little man nodded frantically. “Yes.”
His voice dropped to a near whisper as he glanced across the
compound at a man wearing plastic coveralls over his suit. The man had a
clipboard in his hand.
“The government inspector is here. He wants a list of the
chemicals we’re using. There’s been complaints.”
“Complaints?” Templeton repeated, following Kenyon’s glance.
“About the water.”
“You have assured him we’re in compliance?”
Templeton’s glance was a warning to Kenyon.
The man’s eyes darted around but he licked his lips and
nodded. “Yes, Mr. Templeton. Of course.”
It was clear that he was lying, maintaining the fiction that
Templeton demanded.
“Hmmmm,” Templeton said, eyeing the stranger with distaste.
“I’ll take care of this, Mr. Kenyon.”
He waved Kenyon off but his eyes were on the man inspecting
the site.
A cold chill ran over Asmodeus, his veins seemed to fill
with ice water as a sense of foreboding went through him. He knew Templeton’s
mind by now. This did not bode well.
He thought of Gabriel, waiting. His heart wrenched at the
thought of her but there was nothing to be done except to let it play out. And
accept the consequences.
Templeton turned to him, his black eyes flat.
“Kill him,” he said. “Make it look like a heart attack, make
it look like an accident, I don’t care, but I want him dead.”
Asmodeus took a deep breath but inwardly he was calm. It was
as he had told Gabriel—he would not kill. Not in cold blood. And certainly not
a man innocent of anything except trying to do his job, trying to protect
others.
He met that flat black gaze evenly.
There would be hell to pay for this, true hell, but he would
pay it. Templeton wouldn’t kill him, he hoped. At least, not on purpose.
In the end, it didn’t matter. There was only one answer.
“No.”
It was as if they had all been plunged into an ice-cold
lake. Silence seemed to surround them in the midst of that great noisy place
with its foul smells and roaring flame.
All of that faded.
Every eye was on him.
None of that mattered. Asmodeus met Templeton’s gaze without
flinching.
“I said,” Templeton repeated, his gaze fixed on Asmodeus,
“kill him. I want him dead.”
Asmodeus looked at him, saw the madness in his eyes. He knew
the punishment for refusing would be far harsher than it had been for cloaking
himself and Gabriel in smoke.
In his mind’s eye he could see her. She was so beautiful.
He loved her, heart and soul.
She would not love him for giving Templeton what he wanted.
Not that Asmodeus intended to do that.
“No,” Asmodeus repeated clearly. “I will not. You can ask
again but I will still refuse.”
Color flooded Templeton’s face. His jaw clenched. The color
receded as the muscles in his face worked.
Asmodeus stood firm.
“You will pay for this,” Templeton said, keeping his voice
even with clear effort.
Though Templeton’s eyes did not move, Asmodeus was suddenly
and sharply reminded of those around him.
It was bad enough that he had shamed Templeton but he had
also done it in front of Templeton’s men.
The punishment for that would be severe. His shoulders
flinched in reflexive memory.
In the end it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t kill in cold
blood—not an innocent man, and certainly not at Templeton’s command.
With his past requests there had always been the chance that
someone would discover the changes he’d made, the flaws he’d exploited.
This, though? No.
Demon or man, he would not kill an innocent.
Templeton looked at him and then turned to one of the
mercenaries.
“You know what to do.” He turned to the others, deliberately
not looking at Asmodeus. “We’re done here. Get in the car.”
Obediently, they did. All but the one mercenary.
Watching the man trot toward the woods, Asmodeus waited
until he stood at the edge of the forest. He gestured.
Templeton had not denied him all magic—he wouldn’t have been
an effective tool—and the life here had much of which to complain.
No one would be surprised that a sinkhole might open. The
mercenary would not die. He might break a leg but he wouldn’t die.
Neither would the inspector.
It was a long and very silent ride back.
Chapter Seven
It was clear from the moment Templeton entered the room with
his minions in tow, Asmodeus under guard and a grim look in his eyes, that
things had not gone well. Templeton was also in a vicious and vile temper. It
practically radiated off the man, snapping and crackling in the air around him.
Something had gone very wrong.
Gabriel could see the stoic resignation in Asmodeus’ glance
and her heart sank even as her throat tightened.
That did not bode well.
She had seen that look before in both Asmodeus’ and
Templeton’s eyes.