Key of Solomon: Relic Defender, Book 1 (21 page)

“Can I have that in writing?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Mikos. It doesn’t become you.”

She couldn’t stop the inward smile even though she was careful not to let him see her amusement. That’d be great. Let the arrogant angel see she found him entertaining. A thought occurred to her. “You know, you act nothing like an angel.”

Mikos angled his head, his brow furrowed. “Oh? What does an angel act like?”

“Kind, good, gentle and very supportive.”

He snorted again. Freaky. “I am very supportive,” he said.

Interesting. He completely ignored the kind, good and gentle part. “Sure you are.”

A shrug. “I’m an unusual angel.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday.”

His eyes flattened, the amused expression fleeing the ice gray depths. “Someday, I might.”

Uh, oh. What did that mean? For a moment, she considered pushing him on his cryptic response then decided she didn’t care enough to know. Right now, her mind wouldn’t stretch to learn more secrets.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to get you rested and start training tomorrow.” He eyed her battered backpack. “This is all you require?”

Her turn to shrug. “I don’t need much. Why?”

“I would have thought you’d like more of your things around you.”

“I have everything I need. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be here long.”

Sure, she was fishing for information. She’d made a promise to stay for training. She hadn’t made one to stay forever.

No response. He just kept his gaze on her, a spark of some indefinable emotion glowing behind the mask of unconcern.

Amusement? Anger? Uh, maybe horny? God help her.

Just when the silence began to grate on her already unsettled nerves, he spoke. “Very well. I’ll show you where you’ll stay. Rest. We’ll start at sunrise.”

“Whoa, sunrise? What is that? Six a.m.? Maybe you don’t need to sleep, but I need more than—” she paused and looked at her watch, “—five hours of sleep if you want me to function tomorrow.”

Mikos frowned then nodded. “Nine o’clock?”

“Terrific.” She swept out an arm, gesturing for him to precede her. “Lead on.”

Later that night, Lexi stared up at the ceiling. Moonlight danced, casting the room into cool shadows of flickering, waving light. A slight breeze gently shook the branches of the large maples outside her window, a comforting rustle of leaves that determinedly hung on when their compatriots had already fallen to the ground.

Left alone in the strange room to sleep in a strange bed. A whirlwind of thoughts plagued her mind. No matter how much she tried to relax, she couldn’t. Her mind refused to shut down.

Not only that, it was too damn quiet. Mikos didn’t live in any of the seedier sections of Chicago. His home sat on the edge of one of the more affluent areas in suburban Chicago. Despite its affluence, Lexi expected some noise. Cars passing, dogs barking, cats fighting. The usual. Instead, nothing.

She sighed. At the same time her breath puffed out, her stomach groaned. Then groaned again. More insistent. When was the last time she’d eaten? A day? Two days? She couldn’t even recall what she’d last eaten much less when.

Another rippling gurgle. Now that she’d settled down, her body obviously planned to force her to pay attention to its needs. She was flat out starving.

Flipping back the quilt, Lexi swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Angel or not, there had to be a kitchen. Surely he had to eat.

Padding across the wooden floor, she cracked open the door and peered out. Nothing moved in the darkness of the hallway. A faint glow from the bathroom gave her a modicum of visibility. Enough so she wouldn’t fall on her ass tripping over some unseen object.

Down the stairs, she made a turn to the left. Stainless steel and crisp cleanliness greeted her when she pushed open the door. The kitchen. She didn’t flip on the lights. It wasn’t necessary. The moon’s clean light gave her enough light to find her way across the linoleum to the refrigerator.

She felt her eyes widen. A cornucopia of food filled the bright interior. Stuff for salad, sandwiches and other assorted goodies tickled her senses. Her stomach agreed, the rumbling deeper and more urgent.

Grabbing at the sandwich fixings, she put together a Dagwood-size meal. If she was going to train tomorrow, she needed the fuel.

A far off, yet clear, meaty-sounding thud interrupted her enjoyment of her meal. She lifted her head, the sandwich halfway to her mouth. In the stillness, the noise seemed to echo. To her mind, not such a bad thing. At least something broke the thick silence.

Popping the last bite into her mouth, she brushed off the crumbs and stood. Still not sleepy. So, she’d see what’s up. She whirled around and snatched a big handled butcher knife from the block on the counter. Curious. Not stupid.

Even in an angel’s home, she didn’t trust there would be no danger. And, she didn’t trust in anyone except herself so having a weapon made sense.

The noise seemed to come from the large ballroom-type room where she’d confronted Mikos. When he’d set her on her ass. Figuratively. The first time anyone had done that in a long time. Of course, she got her own back. Even if his backside hadn’t dusted the floor, she’d had the satisfaction of seeing him off balance.

Although, if she thought about the scuffle hard enough, she’d have to question as to who actually won. After all, he’d managed to make her feel both terror and lust at the same time.

She neared the double doors and halted. Yep, the thud and thwap sounds came from behind the heavy wooden barrier. Nothing else vocalized led her to believe someone was being attacked, but that didn’t stop her from hammer gripping the knife handle.

She turned the knob and pushed. On silent hinges, the door swung open. Sliding along the threshold and into the room, she froze when she looked at the tableau laid out before her.

Mikos, wearing nothing more than a worn pair of cut-off jeans grappled with a slender, redheaded woman. Equal to his height if not his build, the woman’s crimson hair swung over her shoulder in a tight braid.

Neither one indicated they’d heard or seen her arrival. Despite the distraction of Mikos’s nearly naked temptation, Lexi focused on the woman. Clad entirely in unrelieved black, the redhead matched him move for move.

Lexi studied their movements, wondering why they seemed familiar. Then it struck her. KM or Krav Maga. He and the woman sparred using KM attacks and defenses.

A hybrid of karate, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, boxing, and street survival tactics, KM was commonly used by Israeli Special Forces.

People who lived on the streets as she had didn’t receive formal training on how to fight. They found out the hard way. And if lucky, only ended up with bruises and broken bones.

If not, they ended up dead.

Krav Maga stressed fighting under worst-case conditions and assumed a no quarter situation. Meaning, even when sparring, combatants could, and frequently did, get hurt. The goal is to inflict the most pain possible in the shortest time.

What made the sparring between Mikos and the woman fascinating was the total lack of any kind of body protection. No pads or headgear. The strikes were hard, fast and potentially lethal. Neither the angel nor woman appeared to be landing any hits, yet, to spar without protection meant these two had to be masters.

Or stupid.

Mikos may be an arrogant ass but he didn’t strike her as the stupid type.

Without any flicker of warning, the redhead spun around. Lowering into a crouch, the woman bared her teeth in a loud hiss.

Shit! Lexi stumbled back, feeling her eyes widen. The woman had fangs. Freaking fangs. Like a vampire. Even her eyes glowed red.

As if she were an observer instead of a participant, Lexi watched Mikos freeze, his expression shocked at the woman’s reaction. At the same time the woman hissed again, Mikos turned his head.

His gray gaze grabbed Lexi’s and in what must be a mirror image of her own, widened.

She flipped the butcher knife around and went into a modified crouch of her own. If the vampy woman was going to attack, Lexi didn’t intend to stand still and beg for it.

The redhead tensed and sprang.

“Marisol! No!”

Mikos’s command rang out, sharp and echoing in the vast chamber. In mid-air, the woman twisted and landed about five feet from where Lexi stood. Holy crap! Nothing natural could move like that.

“A human in your home?” While she spoke, the redhead kept her eerie red gaze on Lexi.

The woman’s accent was thick. Made sense, coming from behind those fangs. Did she forget to mention that? The freaking fangs?

“Mari, I’d like you to meet Alexandria Michaela Thermopolis Harrison, or Lexi as she prefers. The new Defender.”

Lexi heard the clipped tone behind the low and smooth voice. Not fear. Concern. For Lexi? Or for Marisol?

“The Defender?”

Marisol’s stance, while it didn’t relax, at least shifted so Lexi didn’t get the impression the woman was a hairbreadth away from lunging again.

The woman looked over her shoulder at Mikos. “You did not mention you found the Defender. Or that she was staying with you.”

“You hardly gave me a chance to speak before you attacked, Mari.”

Now that the immediate danger had appeared to pass, Mikos’s voice came out sounding less taut. Less grating. With an affectionate edge to the words.

Her jaw clenched. Glad someone could relax. She kept a tight grip on the knife handle.

A smile stretched the woman’s lips, her fangs no longer visible. Lexi still couldn’t wrap her mind around the whole fangs bit. Time for her to say something.

“Excuse me, but the Defender would like to know what the hell is going on and who this is?”

Both fixed their gazes on her. For a brief moment, she felt like squirming under their intense looks. That pissed her off. She straightened and lifted her chin.

“My apologies, Lexi.” Mikos gestured at the redhead. “This is Marisol Asheni. A friend and occasional sparring partner.” He paused, bent his head at the woman, and then continued, “Who usually gives me more warning before she attacks.”

Amusement lit the gray depths, not the silver she associated with anger or battle, but a soft glow that softened the lines on his face. So, not just friends, then. Something more? A past relationship? A past love?

At the flip-flop of her stomach, Lexi frowned inwardly. Why should the thought of them as lovers bother her?

Snap out of it, Lexi. You don’t care. Just do the training, find Devyn and go back to your life. Just because Mikos’s happy face quickened her pulse, didn’t mean a damn thing.

Marisol bent in a half bow. “My apologies as well. I would not have attacked had Mikos told me he’d found you.”

“What are you? A vampire?” Lexi blurted out the questions. She couldn’t help herself.

Mikos frowned slightly. The vampy woman tossed her head, the braid swinging across the other shoulder. Her laugh echoed in the cavernous room, peals of laughter skipping on the air.

“No, not a vampire.” Marisol cocked her head. “You do know there are no such things as vampires, right?”

Lexi scowled. “Uh huh, sure, and there are no such things as angels or demons.”

“Ah, sarcasm,” Marisol quipped. “I’m very aware of that mortal trait.”

“I’m happy for you. Now, who, er, what are you?”

“Lexi.” Mikos’s voice came from her side, a warning in his voice. A warning for what? Of what?

Marisol flashed her eyes to Mikos, who gave an imperceptible nod. She faced Lexi. “A fallen angel. Now.”

“A fallen angel? What does that mean?” She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t this mean you are really a demon?”

Marisol shrugged. Her gaze flicked back to Mikos.

“I will tell you the tale later,” he replied to Lexi, his tone leaving no opportunity for questions. “Mari, if you don’t mind…”

The fallen angel nodded then locked gazes with Lexi. Something passed between them. An acknowledgement? A warning? She wasn’t sure. One thing she was sure of. She and Marisol were going to be great friends. Or terrible enemies.

Chapter Thirteen

“History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon.”

Napoleon Bonaparte

Snuggled deep into a cozy armchair and covered by a soft wool throw, Lexi flipped through the oversize book. Wood crackled in the fireplace casting the room in amber light. She was supposed to be reading but instead, she focused on the pictures. Mikos said a Watcher, or Grigori, had written the book containing the history of the defenders. Her heritage.

She absently fingered the
Nativitas
. The smooth metal and ruby stone felt warm under her touch. Since it had done its job, Mikos said it was just plain metal and stone now. Sometimes, though, she thought it still seemed to have something left in it. Something powerful.

At the thought of Mikos, she sighed. According to the angel, time flew by on swift wings and in less than a week, she had to find the Key and wrest a large vase containing seventy-two spirits, uh, demons from Beliel to stop him from opening it with the Key. Supposing she could find the Key.

According to legend, God had given Solomon a book, the Key, in order to not only summon demons but to make them do whatever he wanted. In particular, to build his Temple. Once they’d done that, he decided he no longer needed them so locked them, again with the Key, into a large bronze jar.

This is where her ancestress, Sophronia, showed up. The same woman who took the Vessel and hid it in a location she didn’t bother sharing with anyone, but her progeny. Except the bad guy had found that. This left the location of the Key with Lexi.

Who had no freaking idea where the thing was.

“Hey, girl, whatcha got there?”

Lexi started at the honey and cream tone. The book slipped from her fingers and slid across her lap heading for the floor. She lunged and grabbed the weighty tome before it hit the floor.

“Oops, sorry!” Kat giggled. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s cool.” Lexi grinned. Kat’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Can’t think of anyone I’d rather be surprised by.”