Eve of Chaos (29 page)

“Reed drives a
silver Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder. And we took Harbor to Brookhurst.” She
glanced at Ishamel, who somehow conveyed reassurance without any alteration in
his stance. He would find a way to make her fictitious trip home happen for the
detectives.

“Lamborghini,
eh? Must be nice. Thank you.”

The detectives
rose to their feet. Ingram collected the photos. His gaze lifted and locked
with hers. “Think about what happened last night. Every detail. Every word
spoken. Anything that might strike you as odd in hindsight. The smallest detail
can sometimes break a case.”

“Of course.” She
stood along with them. “I’m eager to help.”

Ishamel walked
the detectives out. Eve expected him to return, so she waited for him. But he
didn’t come back.

Knowing she’d
see him on the way to the police station, she set off to find Hank instead.

Raguel smelled
the scent of ripe mortal terror before the door to his cell opened. Using what little
strength he had left, he altered his appearance, tucking away the wings that
kept him warm and altering his features to those of a teenager. He
would
get
out of Hell, and when he did, he couldn’t risk being recognized as the real
estate mogul who was so widely known.

The new arrival
was pushed into Raguel’s stone enclosure with such force, he stumbled. Shock
had already begun to set in. The man’s eyes were dilated and his breathing was
too quick.

It took a moment
before recognition hit Raguel.
Evangeline’s priest.
The one to whom she
had turned, which had in turn prompted an investigation into the tengu
infestation at Olivet Place. She must be the reason why the priest was here.

“Have a seat,
Padre,” Raguel said, gesturing to the wide expanse of stone floor. “As you can
see, there is plenty of room.”

Like Jehovah,
Sammael employed drama for effect. In this instance the allusion was to the
Spanish Inquisition, a time when atrocities had been committed in God’s name.
Manacles hung from the wall, and distant screams kept nerves on edge and
prevented restful slumber.

“Where are we?”
the priest asked, sinking to a crouch with unfocused eyes.

“I think you
know.”

In a rush, the
man stood and moved to the door. He gripped the rough iron bars and tried to
see outside. There was nothing out there but fire and heat. No ground below, no
sky above. Sammael could choose to make it the most gorgeous of spaces, but
that would be too kind. This way, the feeling of safety came from their
imprisonment.

“There was someone
else with me,” the priest said roughly. “A young woman.”

“Evangeline is
fine. For now.”

“How do you know?”

Raguel wrapped
his arms around his knees. His soul was cold when separated from God. “You
would be dead otherwise, or not here at all.”

“Who are you?”

“A prisoner like
you. Leverage to force those on earth to do a demon’s bidding.”

“Are you one of
them?”

“No. I am a
servant of God, just as you are.”

“How can I
believe you? How do you know Evangeline?”

“You will have
to take it on faith, Padre.”

The priest’s
knees lost strength and he dropped to the floor. His lips moved in what was
likely a silent prayer. Raguel didn’t see the point in telling him that

Jehovah couldn’t
hear him here. Hope was something neither of them could afford to lose. They
had time enough to talk after circumstances sunk in through the shock. There
was no point in questioning the man when his brain wasn’t running at full speed.

A long time
passed. Raguel had begun to doze when the priest spoke again.

“She asked me if
I believed in demons.”

Raguel scrubbed
his hands over his face, hating the smell that coated his skin. “What was your
answer?”

“I’m not sure I
gave her one.”

“Understandable.
Even those with faith have their limits.”

The priest
looked at him. “She claims to have no faith, yet she believed. She even hired
bodyguards to protect her.”

With narrowed
eyes, Raguel asked, “Did you meet these guards?”

“Yes.”

“What were their
names? Do you recall?”

“Montevista and
Sydney. Why do you ask?”

She was in
danger. Somehow, Cain or Abel had known she was at risk before the priest’s
abduction. What was happening? Why would Sammael want Evangeline?

“How long have
you been here?” the priest asked. “Are you the reason she believes in demons?”

Raguel leaned
forward. “You and I have much to talk about if we are to find a way out of here
alive.”

“Can
we get out?”

“We must.”
At
the very least,
I
must.

Cain would have
to relinquish the position he’d stolen. Somehow, Raguel would find the tools he
needed to make that happen. The priest was all he had to work with and time was
short. A prolonged stay in Hell was like a cancer that ate its way in from the
outside. The longer the mortal was here, the less of his soul and sanity would
remain. Raguel was already feeling the effects and he was far stronger.

“Get
comfortable, Padre;’ Raguel murmured. “I will need you to be as precise in your
recollections as possible.”

***

Eve had just
raised her hand to knock on Hank’s door when it swung open of its own accord.
It was dark inside, as usual, with only strategically placed lighting over
counters littered with petri dishes and glass tubes. Unlike usual was the
racket resounding from the depths of the room. It was the first time she’d
visited Hank’s domain when it wasn’t deathly quiet.

“Hank?” she
yelled.

He stepped out
of the darkness as a man, dressed in black slacks and dress shirt. The
somberness of his garments allowed the brilliant red of his hair to take center
stage. Eve was slightly envious of that color.

“Eve.” He held
out his hands to her. “What brings you to me?”

“What the hell
is that noise?”

“Your tengu
friend.”

In the distance,
she could hear Fred cursing and growling.

“What’s the
problem?” she asked.

“I’ve been
experimenting with the fellow, using him as a guinea pig for my masking agent
trials. This most recent test involved a higher Mark-to-Infernal ratio and the
demon in him is rebelling.”

She winced. “How
long will he be like that?”

“Another couple
hours, at least.”

“I don’t think I
can shout that long!”

His smile was
charming. “Should we go somewhere else?”

“If you don’t
mind.”

They were about
to exit when the rapid thudding of cement feet betrayed the approach of the
escaped tengu.

“Watch out!”
Fred yelled.

“Pretty Mark!”
the tengu screeched, before launching like a missile toward Eve.

“Oomph!” She hit
the floor on her back, her teeth snapping together painfully.

Her arms wrapped
around the heavy beast and she rolled, knowing from experience that it was best
to avoid taking the bottom position with a tengu.

They grappled
like wrestlers. Eve’s stilettos made it difficult to gain purchase on the
polished cement floor. The Infernal took advantage, cackling in a manner she’d
never heard before. Less mischievous, more maniacal. With a resonance that
sounded almost as if there were multiple beings laughing instead of just the
one.

Fred bounded out
of the darkness in wolf form, barking.

“Enough,”
Hank roared, reaching down to free Eve. But the tengu
caught a fistful of her chignon and held fast. Eve screamed as he pulled. In
the violent jostling, the necklace fell from the V of her neckline. The moment
it touched the tengu’s forearm, the demon stilled. His mouth opened in a
surprised O, then he blinked as if waking. The hand in her hair loosened and
the arm fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Pretty Mark,”
he said in a soft whisper, appearing dazed.

She yelped as
she was hauled upward by Hank.

The occultist
grabbed her necklace and stared hard at it. “Where did you get this?”

Eve blinked as
rapidly as the tengu had. She thought of Satan and hoped that Hank would read
her mind as he often did. Instead he glared at her. When the tengu began to
stir and rumble low in his throat, Hank pulled the necklace over her head and
dropped it around the tengu’s neck. The Infernal quieted, sitting with hands in
his lap and his head cocked to the side. His cement fingers caressed the charm
reverently.

“Sammael’ Hank murmured,
setting Eve on her feet and straightening her collar.

“I need that’
she said, pointing at the necklace.

“I can’t read
you when you’re wearing it.”

“And you can’t
hear me when your friend is having fits. We kill two birds with one stone this
way. You can recover the piece later”

“Gotcha.”

Fred altered
shape, shifting back into her lili form. Since she was naked, Eve looked away,
but she heard Fred pick up the tengu and pad back into the darkness.

“You’re in deep
shit,” Hank said, gripping Eve’s elbow and puffing her deeper into the room.

She was startled
by the sudden appearance of a wooden table and chairs. Hank sat and she
followed suit, once again wondering at the lack of gentlemanly manners.

He studied her
intently. “It’s clear that neither Cain nor Abel know. If they did, you’d be
locked away. Pointless as that would be.”

“I can’t say
anything.”

“And your
memories of Sammael are like static on a television.” Hank sighed. “Very well,
then. I’ll do the talking. You just have to ask the right questions.”

Eve nodded. She
had no idea how old Hank was, but there was no doubt that he held a staggering
amount of information inside him. But did that information extend back to the
beginning of time?

“Do you know,”
she began, “exactly how much of the Eve and the apple story is true, and how
much of it isn’t?”

“Ah, Genesis.. .
Interesting.” Hank’s lips pursed momentarily. “The tale varies depending on who
you ask. Some say the Bible is as accurate as can be expected. Others say it’s
more of a fable, with hidden meanings.”

“Such as?”

“Such as
Sammael’s serpent being a phallic allusion and the Tree of Knowledge referring
to female sexual awakening.”

She whistled.
“Holy shit.”

“There are those
who go so far as to say that Cain is the son of Sammael and not Adam, and that
is why he’s so good at killing.”

Eve heaved out a
shuddering breath. If Satan wanted some reunion nooky, they were all fucked.
Talk about disasters.

“He’s a
good-looking demon,” she said. “He wouldn’t secretly pine for her, would he?
He’s got endless choices.”

“You have to
understand the layers that exist.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck, one of
very few times that Eve had ever seen signs of stress on him.

“Go on,” she
coaxed.

“It’s a misconception
to say that Sammael rules over a place called Hell. Sammael rules the earth. He
was banished from Heaven, but given domain here. He isn’t roasting in some
fiery pit.”

“He isn’t?”

“No. He can
create that visual effect and often does because we’ve been trained to fear it,
but it’s just window dressing. There are layers to Heaven and there are layers
to earth. Like an onion. Sammael can strip or combine layers in order to create
the desired effect.”

Fred appeared
from the darkness dressed in a lab coat and bearing a slight smile. Carrying a
tray with a pitcher and half-filled glasses, she looked more harmless geek than
killer demon.