Fall From Grace (10 page)

Evie shook her head.
His western accent had become stronger as he told the story, a true
drawl.

“Well, I do. Usually
a healthy fellow can survive a snake bite but not always. James was
18 years old and he was going to die. Now I didn't matter so much.
I had turned into a bit of a wastrel. Figured I'd end up shot in a
gun fight or stabbed over cards. Anyway, I knew some people who
knew some people. They found me a Skinwalker. Navajo fellow. Very
different from their Shamans. All evil and darkness. He had no love
for white men, I can tell you. 1879 Arizona? He practically paid me
for the ceremony. Well, that Skinwalker was the real deal. Called
up a big time demon and we negotiated our terms.”

“Demon, not the
Devil?”

He
gave her an astonished look, “Course not the, the...” he hesitated
as though unwilling to say the word directly. “
Him
. Nobody can actually summon that
order of consciousness. You should know that, Angel. My master is
Marcus, a very high order demon.”

“
Marcus?
Your
demon is called Marcus?”

He made a face. “Not
every dark lord is named after something that sounds like a Greek
dessert read backwards. In fact I know a heroin addicted wraith
called Bruce. Which is probably what got him into drugs in the
first place.”

“Are you sorry?”

“For Bruce?”

It was her turn to
make a face.

Trick was about to
make a joke of it, turn the conversation along a different path.
Somehow he couldn't. Not with her. Staring up into the sky as the
blush of sunrise tried to break through the gray cloud cover and
chase away the darkness, he finished his story.

“James studied law
and championed the rights of small farmers, helping to establish a
bank especially for their needs. His son took up the call of water
rights for the poor – which in a place like Arizona is vital. That
boy became a State Senator. I've got great-great nieces and nephews
all of whom put the good of others before themselves. They've done
wonderful things. What legacy would I have left?”

She ran her fingers
through his hair, following the dark brown waves with her
fingertips, tucking the strands over one ear. “You never had the
chance to find out.”

An accented voice
called out from nearby, “Anyone hungry? I'm always starving after
sex.”

Evie and Trick
scrambled up and out of the sand. Evie grabbed her sword and
scabbard. Trick, moving into a fighter's crouch, gathered up a
large handful of sand. Summoning his power, he shaped it into a
flaming ball that hissed and sputtered like lava.

There in front of
them stood the elegant Fallen with one gray wing, dressed in a
different yet equally elegant velvet suit. At his side, one of the
black dogs held the handles of a large brown paper bag between its
long teeth. The other two panted just behind. Almost casually the
man signed a complex rune in the air. A symbol flashed out from a
burst of darkness. Instantly Evie and Trick were enclosed within a
ring of black flame that burned deep into the sand.

Trick threw the
flaming fire ball straight at the Baron. The ball seemed to hit an
invisible barrier and ricocheted off, knocking Trick down and
singeing off part of an eyebrow. Evie drew her sword – which can
cut through anything – except, it seemed, this dark spell. The wall
of flame merely bent around the blade. Putting all her weight
behind it and fanning her wings to increase the pressure, she was
only able to inch forward. No matter how hard she tried, she could
not break through.

The Baron waited as
they exhausted every spell and power between them. Breathing
heavily they stood side by side, staring at the Fallen.

“All done now are we?
Good.” Taking the bag from the black dog, he removed a cardboard
carrier with two cups and a smaller bag, all with the familiar
green logo. Reaching through the flames, he set them in the sand.
“There's a branch right across from the Redondo Beach Police
Department that opens at four a.m. Of course you know that already,
don't you Miss Grace? Let's see, an ice espresso is your regular
order. At least that's what the Barista there said."

Evie
stared. He had
tracked
her.

The
Fallen wagged a finger in her direction, "Ah, you see, you are not
the only detective. Your scent, incidentally, is lovely. Like fresh
lavender. And you, Mr. McKitrick. My sentinels criss-crossed the
city looking for yours as well. Then you gave the Voodoo master
your blood. Very careless. Might as well have sent up a flare.” He
made explosive motions with his hands, giving a snort of disdain.
“It has been a rather tiresome two days. Here we are at last. All's
well that ends well." He pointed at the other cup. "A hot latte
with an extra shot, Reaper. Just guessing, I hope it meets your
approval. Oh, I added a few things to snack on.
Bon appetit
.”

From the large bag he
removed an oversized plastic cup filled with a frothy green mixture
topped with whipped cream. Taking a deep drink, the Fallen gave a
sigh, “I do like these green tea confections.” He removed a fourth
cup, a clear plastic one, the condensation from the ice beading up
on the side, and set it on the sand nearer the cliff.

Digging his jeans out
of the sand, Trick gave them a shake and pulled them on. Evie
quickly slipped into her yoga pants and the now very sandy tank
top, slapping the velcro straps together. She picked up the little
bag and looked inside. Choosing a blueberry scone, still warm, she
took a bite.

Trick gave her an
incredulous look.

One eyebrow raised,
she looked right back at him. “What? I love blueberry scones. And
he's right, I'm always starving after sex, too.”

With a resigned shrug
he picked up his cup and took a drink. It was warm but not hot.
Generating a little burst of heat, he warmed it up between his
palms.

The three massive
black dogs ran around in circles, chasing the foam in the waves
behaving for all the world like frighteningly oversized labradors.
Kneeling, the Baron picked up a stick of driftwood and tossed it
out to sea. Barking madly, the dogs dashed after it.

“They are really much
happier as dogs,” he said watching them.

She and Trick sat
trapped inside the magic circle. They sipped their coffees and
waited for the Baron to explain. It wasn't as if they really had a
choice. The dogs ran back and forth on the beach, the Baron drank
his green tea concoction and Evie couldn't help thinking that they
must look for all the world like a little gathering of friends and
their dogs to someone looking down from above. Until you saw the
high black flames dancing and the size of the dogs' teeth.

With a last slurping
sip, the Fallen tossed the drink aside. The dogs, reading his
posture, became suddenly alert, returning to stand sentinel once
again.

“The relic. I would
like to see it now.”

Evie looked at Trick
and saw his face flush.

Trick pulled his
jacket out from where it sat, half buried in the sand from their
lovemaking. Reaching into an inside zippered pocket, he took out a
slim, cylindrical leather case. Old and worn looking, it was tied
round with a number of knotted leather straps threaded through
dozens of tiny, complex metal and stone amulets.

She stared from the
case to him, anger burning through her.

“You had it all
along.”

Trick said nothing,
his eyes on the Fallen.

“Open it.”

Trick began to unwrap
the binding. With each complex knot he untied and every charm
unhooked, Evie thought she could see an emanation begin to leak
from the case. A miasma of evil pressing against the amulets and
spells designed to keep whatever power lay inside contained. Little
tendrils of darkness thrust themselves out, turning and twisting in
the air as though questing for prey. One last knot and the Reaper
flipped back the top revealing a thin-bladed weapon no longer than
a man's hand. Evie felt her heart constrict at the sight of it.
Even from where she stood, she could sense it pulsing with deadly
menace, almost as if the metal was alive.

The Baron smiled,
“Now kill her.”

Trick dropped the relic as though it burned
him.

The Fallen gave an
impatient flick of the flight feathers on his gray wing. “Why is it
people grow a conscience at the most inconvenient times?”

“What does it do,”
Evie whispered.

“The relic kills
Angels,” Trick replied just as quietly.

She looked at him,
appalled.

“Actually it can kill anything,” said the Baron.
“
Anything
. One
time use only. But, and this is a very important 'but', only in
human hands. Not demon, not Angel, Fallen or otherwise. Despite his
current powers, Mr. McKitrick is still human or at least human
enough at his core. The relic was meant to kill you.
He
was meant to kill you
with it.”

Trick reached out and
touched her right breast with one fingertip, directly over her
heart, and whispered an incantation. At his touch, his master's
rune burst into light, shining right through the cotton top.
Looking down she saw the Demon Mark for the first time. Saw and
understood.

The world narrowed to
just the two of them.

“So that's what was
meant to happen? Chat me up in the bar. Then, in the alley, the
Baron knocks me out and you do the dirty deed.”

Staring at the
glowing Mark, a nearly desperate look of misery on his face, Trick
said, “Marcus promised me my freedom if I did this last service for
him. I didn't know it would be you, not until the alley.”

She
made a sound between anger and exasperation, “And
that
makes it all right?
You didn't know it would be me but you were prepared to kill
another Angel?”

“Yes, no, I don't
know! Damn it Evie, from the moment I saw you bite down on that big
green olive, Dirty Martini in one hand, it was over. You took far
more from me in those brief moments in that bar than anything the
demon ever has or ever will.”

He looked directly
into Evie's eyes, never an easy thing to do with an Angel. They see
far more than you would like them to. She looked back, deep and
then deeper still; reading the man that lay behind the sea green
gaze, seeing the evil he had done – or been forced to do. How much
he hated himself and this half life. The desperation that pushed
him towards that final bargain with his Master. She saw herself
there as well, then Trick could bear her ethereal stare no longer.
He looked away, his face pale as death.

The Baron made an
impatient sound. His three sentinels moved silently to place
themselves around the circle of flame, red tongues lolling over
long, pointed teeth.

“Don't make this more
personal than it needs to be, Mr. McKitrick. Kill her so I can take
what I want.”

Growling, the dogs
pressed closer.

“I can probably make
you and if I can't, which I doubt, your Master should be here
shortly and most certainly will.”

Trick said nothing.
Quickly tying one of the leather strips, he closed the deadly case
and slipped it into his back pocket. When he faced the Fallen, it
was with a sly, sure smile. “Let him come then. I wouldn't be so
hasty to welcome him, Baron. What makes you think Marcus told me to
use the relic on her? There was more than one Angel in that alley,
after all.”

The elegant man's
eyes widened.

There was a
pop
like a small caliber pistol going off and the smell of
burning.

The Fallen looked
over towards the base of the cliff and smiled, though his eyes
showed a very different emotion. “Hello Marcus, I've got you an ice
latte.”

Evie saw the blood as
it flushed through Trick's arms and chest, his muscles suddenly
tense, adrenalin pumping, ready for battle. She looked from Trick
to the Master of his soul. Like the Fallen, the demon was dressed
in the manner of an old-time aristocrat, though of a slightly later
date: slim trousers tucked into polished Hessian boots, cutaway
coat, cravat, vest and watch fob all in the colors of coal black
and ash gray. Tall and heavyset, his features were blunt, very
different from the fine, delicate planes of the Fallen's face. He
wore his thick, wavy brown hair pulled back in a simple ponytail
that hung halfway down his back. The only thing that gave him away,
supernaturally speaking, was a long tail standing up in the air
behind him like an exclamation point. Flicking it out as he
approached them, he wrapped it around the iced coffee and brought
the cold drink to his hand.

“How kind. My
favorite.” Taking a long drink, he gave their little group a slow
assessing look as he sipped.

The Fallen's
sentinels closed ranks. Transforming in one fluid motion from dogs
to whatever the three silent beings were. Trick stepped closer to
Evie, never taking his eyes off Marcus. Evie had once more picked
up her sword. She flexed her fingers around the grip, swinging the
blade in a circular motion to loosen her muscles. They all seemed
to be waiting for something, though Evie wasn't sure what.

Above them the cloud
ceiling was very low and they heard the rushing of wings before
they saw the swarm. Flying demons dropped from the sky, short,
jagged swords drawn. They rained down around the Fallen like hail,
screaming. Behind Marcus, higher demons jumped from the cliff,
throwing spells like daggers at the Fallen and his dark guards.

With a tight smile,
the Baron flicked his fingers and the black wall of flame trapping
them in the circle dropped. “My enemy's enemy is my friend, eh
children?”