Key of Solomon: Relic Defender, Book 1 (12 page)

She looked up to see Pete poised near her, his hand raised as if he intended to offer assistance. She waved him off then asked, “When?”

“Two nights ago.”

Two nights ago? That would make it Monday. The last day she’d seen him. The day he’d given her that box with the strange amulet carefully protected inside. The same amulet which pressed against her chest, but now felt as if it had increased a ton in weight.

The same amulet that had supposedly saved her life.

An urge to rip the freaking thing from her neck and throw it into Lake Michigan filled her mind. Could it be a coincidence that Professor Xaviera was murdered the day she received the amulet? From him?

“Listen, you want to go and get some, uh, coffee or something? You look pale.”

Lexi turned her gaze on Pete. His gaze flattened, and he stepped back a bit. She could only guess at what he saw in her expression. Were her eyes as shocked and wild as she felt?

She shook her head. “Thanks, Pete, but I can’t. I need to, um, go to the library to meet some friends.”

Great, Lexi, thought you were a much better liar than that
. She pasted a weak smile on her face. She could tell Pete didn’t buy her lame excuse, but was grateful she turned him down. Probably wondered if she was losing it. Hell, she wondered the same thing herself.

Not caring if she alarmed Pete further, Lexi ducked around him, tore out the office and fled back down the hallway.

Slamming open the outside double doors, she avoided clipping an entering couple by fractions of an inch. She mumbled an apology and dashed down the stairs.

Only several blocks away did she slow. When had things started spinning out of control? All she wanted was to be left alone. To finish school. To create a new life somewhere else.

Two fucking days. That’s all it had taken for her life to come crashing around her.

Lexi opened the door to her apartment. After tossing her backpack onto the ratty piece of furniture that passed for a couch, she headed for the kitchen. She rubbed her temples, her head screaming for an aspirin. Or two. Then a shower. And food. In that order.

Halfway to the kitchen, she stopped. Her nose wrinkled. What the hell was that smell? She sucked in a deep sniff. The stench, a cross between rotten eggs and wet ashes, seemed to fill the small space.

“Terrific.” She sighed. Despite keeping very little food in her fridge, something had gone bad. Seriously bad. Her stomach churned. So much for food. Pivoting around, she headed to her bedroom.

“Nice place you have. A bit shabby, but it does have a certain rustic charm.” The cold, clipped tone cut into the silence.

Lexi whirled and stumbled backward a couple of steps until she bumped into the end table. The lamp wobbled, tipping toward her. Instinctively, she grabbed it, never taking her eyes from the man. At least she thought it was a man.

The man-shaped…thing stood near her front door. Skin of glossy black, dark as the darkest coal, and etched with strange ruby sigils glowing in a vivid display of color. Matching the hue of the swirling symbols, his eyes shone deep red, like a carmine pool of blood.

Holy hell. She didn’t know what to say. Yanking her mouth shut, she swallowed.

“Get the hell out,” Lexi finally said in a low voice taut with anger. She ignored the fear turning the blood in her veins to ice water.

Her apartment was her sanctuary. She didn’t care who, or what, he was. Or even if he was a milestone on her path to a breakdown. No one had ever invaded her home before. Suddenly, her sanctuary felt unclean.

“Tsk, tsk, that’s no way to speak to a guest.” His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality like an evil purr. “Wouldn’t you like to know who I am and why I’m here?”

Lexi barely kept from shuddering. Tinged with a deep bass tone, his voice reverberated through her body, flicking her nerves until they jumped and all she wanted to do was run.

“I don’t care. Just get out.”

The man raised a brow and shook his head. He strolled over to the window, the natty gray duster he wore swirling about his legs. She hadn’t really noticed the coat, her attention fixed on the coal-black skin.

He stared out the glass. Without turning around, he asked, “Would you care if I told you I was here to change your life?”

He’d turned to face her. Now his red eyes held a hint of churning bruise-shaded yellow. Their gazes collided, his scrutiny seemingly measuring her with a cool appraising look. A single look, that if she read correctly, appeared to not only judge but to dismiss her as inconsequential.

Lexi lifted her chin. Screw him. Like she gave a flying fig.

“I’ve had enough life changing experiences, thank you. Get out. I’m not telling you again.” Lexi eyed the distances to her backpack and the kitchen. Either held something she could use as a weapon. Could she get there before he attacked?

At the same time, the feeling that weapons would have little to no effect on him crossed her mind. Still. She’d take that chance rather than stand here and let him continue to defile her home.

A faraway part of her wondered how, when, she’d stepped from disbelief to belief. But then, why not? After all, she’d died and had the ability to talk to rocks.

“Oh, I think you’ll like this,” he continued, sliding her a flat glance.

He, it, she didn’t know what to call him, waved his hand. The room spun, her furniture and the pictures on her walls blurring into one jumbled mass of brightly, swirling pigment.

After a teeth jarring halt, the spinning stopped, leaving her standing on shaky legs in the center of a cute Martha Stewart-like cozy living room crowded with soft touches like fluffy pillows, wispy curtains and framed pictures of happy people, their smiles filling half their faces.

She twisted, her eyes sweeping around the room, taking in everything. The black-skinned man was gone.

“Hello?” she called out not really expecting to receive a response but needing to hear something echoing in the tomb-like stillness of the room.

As she expected, no one responded. She walked over to a grouping of pictures on a side table. The faces in them pulled at her. One showed a couple with two children, a boy and a girl. She bent and looked closer, her focus on the woman. The mother?

Lexi’s stomach did a somersault then stopped, sitting like a block of ice in her abdomen. The mother’s face had her features. Slightly different, more rounded and soft, long, wavy hair, but still her face looked back at her.

Transfixed, she moved her attention to the two children. The girl, more so than the boy, also bore touches of Lexi’s features. Fascinated, she reached out and stroked a finger down the girl’s cheek imagining she could feel the silky smooth surface.

“This appeals to you?” The deep bass was back.

Although she stiffened, this time, she didn’t face him. All she could to do was take in the life the pictures depicted. The snapshots that showed the her-but-not-her likeness in various scenes with the man and the two children.

“You could have this life,” the cold, flat tone left her feeling chilled despite the fire flickering merrily in the fireplace. “A family of your own, a life where you don’t have to expose your body to the lust of men. This could be yours.”

For a price.

He didn’t have to say the words. She heard them anyway. A family of her own? She’d never had that, not really. Since her parents died while she was still so young, her memories were of being shuffled from foster home to foster home. Not all the families were bad. Most just didn’t care to get close to a lonely child not their own.

Only in the deep recesses of her heart could she admit she was tempted. She remembered the nights when she’d dreamed of having a family. She could never comprehend the other kids who talked about how awful their parents were and how yucky it was to have a sister or brother. Lexi would have given up anything to experience what those kids did.

She turned from the pictures. The man—it?—from her apartment stood in the center of the room, confidence oozing from his wide stance. Like he knew what he offered was everything Lexi had ever wanted.

A similar recognition of the sensation of power in Mikos’s eyes had swept through her. Except, unlike Mikos’s, the soul behind this man’s regard was as pitch-black as the skin under the colorful designs.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to give this life to you.”

She snorted. “That’s not what I’m asking. What do you want from me in exchange for this?” Lexi waved her hand, encompassing the room, the pictures and the chance to have a family of her own.

“It’s simple, really. You possess something of mine. Give it to me, and I will give you what you’ve always wanted.”

Unnerved, she stared at him, her mind spinning. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Was he, whatever the hell he was, McKay’s mysterious employer? “I don’t have anything of yours.”

She didn’t know what he wanted. Come to think of it, she couldn’t recall if McKay even told her what the mysterious object was.

“Indeed.” His eyes narrowed. “You lie.”

She glared at him. “Go to hell.”

The man threw back his head and laughed, a bark of sound that raised goose bumps along her arms and legs. “Very well. I have found that humans like to negotiate. We’ll negotiate.”

He walked over and sat down in one of the Queen Anne chairs near the table with the pictures. The fragile chair creaked under the strain, as if it might collapse at any second.

“As I said, you possess a certain object that belongs to me,” he continued. “The object is of little worth or consequence, still it has some intrinsic value. Of a personal nature.”

Uh, huh. Anxiety muted by the stilted tone of his voice told her the object meant quite a bit to him. “What is this object I’m supposed to have, and why is it so important to you?”

“My brethren are being kept locked away. I want them released. You have the Key.”

He picked up one of the pictures—the one of the Lexi-like mother and the two children. His gaze focused on the photograph, a smirk twisting his lips. Shivers danced across her arms again.

“A key?” Forcing back the surge of uneasiness ripping through her, Lexi shook her head. “The only keys I have are for my apartment.”

The man gave an impatient shrug. “Yes, a Key, but not like your human keys. The Key is a book.”

“A book? That makes no freaking sense.” Lexi rolled her eyes. “The only books I have are on the shelf.” She started to gesture to her few shelves of books. “Oh right, I’m not in my apartment. Guess you’re out of luck.”

She knew she was being sarcastic and also knew it might not be such a good idea but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

An eyebrow lifted. Yellow churned wildly in the intent gaze. “Do you think to play games with me? I know you possess the Key.”

Games? What did he think this was? A version of
Deal or No Deal
? Except, instead of a chance to win money, her prize for picking the right case, in this case meaning a book, was a family of her own.

“Very well,” he said. “Here is the bargain. I will give you forty-eight hours to decide whether you want this…” He held the frame up. “Or this,” he finished.

In that instant, Lexi was back in her sparsely furnished, uncluttered apartment. A stab of loneliness briefly took her breath away. Bare windows looking out at more buildings just like her own. No pictures of a happy family. She wobbled on her legs.

“Forty-eight hours to decide. No more.” A shimmer, and his form wavered.

“Wait,” Lexi called out before she could stop herself. What the hell was she doing? “If I don’t need the forty-eight hours, how do I call you?”

“Speak my name. I will hear.”

He didn’t continue. When his silence stretched, she planted her hands on her hips. “Well?” she asked, hearing the impatience ringing in her voice.

“Beliel, King of Demons.” He bowed, then disappeared.

Open-mouthed, Lexi stared at the empty space the man calling himself a demon, a freaking demon, had vacated. The scent of sulfur lay heavy in the air. Was this for real? She didn’t believe in demons.

Or ghosts, faeries, mermaids, vampires, werewolves, angels or unicorns.

Or stones that morphed into tiny humans.

Lexi, get a grip
. What else could a man with coal-black skin and ruby eyes be except a demon?

She staggered into her bedroom and collapsed across her bed. The soft down of the comforter enveloped her, wrapping her in the sensation of warm arms. She lay there, trying to calm her galloping heart and untangle the knot in her stomach.

Did she want the perfect life he offered? A family of her own? Children? A husband? Little house, white picket fence?

Why shouldn’t she? She barely remembered her parents. When she said all she had left from them was a cumbersome name, she wasn’t fibbing. Except, of her father, she had one clear memory. His hug the day he died.

The woodsy scent she now knew to be sandalwood, clung about his body as he pulled her to him, his large hands brushing through her hair. He’d whispered something to her, yet no matter how hard she tried to recall his words, they slipped away leaving her frustrated. It seemed she should know what he said.

Of her mother, she remembered nothing. No images. No feelings. No sensations.

Lexi blew out a puff of air. Too many things were happening. She felt as if she could barely take a breath much less attempt any understanding of the events stacking up like dominos. One strong push and the whole mess would topple, one after the other increasing in speed until reaching the end.

And her sanity was at the end.

After a few minutes, Lexi pushed herself to her feet. Bemoaning her situation and her past didn’t do anything for her future. She needed that shower. And food. Maybe those routine tasks would help her put things into perspective.

She pulled off her top and pants, tossing them to the floor. By the other assorted piles spread about the room, it was past time to do laundry. Groaning inwardly at the thought, she headed to the shower.

Clad only in her bra and panties, her hair bouncing wetly against her neck, Lexi padded back into her bedroom. She picked up her discarded clothes then automatically put her hands into the right pocket of her jeans. At the stinging pain, she hissed and jerked her hand from her pocket bringing out a small white card, which fluttered to the floor.