Beneath the Skin (26 page)

"Will the
creawdwr
restore to flesh those he turned to stone?" Hekate asked.

"Yes, all will be well, little dove, once the Maker has been bonded," Gabriel murmured, gold light sparking in his eyes. "In the meantime, I ask that you continue to tend to Samael. Keep him alive."

"If I must," Hekate said.

Striding to the balustrade, Gabriel kissed the curls coiled atop Hekate's head, then turned away and unfurled his golden wings. Without another word he launched himself into the night, his wings stroking through the jasmineand-myrrh-scented air.

Hekate watched until he disappeared from view, then she swiveled around. She looked at Lucien for a long moment, her face composed, her gaze speculative.

"Do you need help sitting?" she asked, voice cool.

"Hardly."

Lucien had used the last of his strength to force himself onto his feet. Sweat beaded his forehead and his heart tripled-timed against his ribs. Thighs shaking, he managed to drop semigracefully onto the couch.

"More tea?" Hekate asked, picking up the teapot.

"Wine would be better," Lucien said, lying down on the couch. He draped an arm over his eye.

"I agree," Hekate murmured.

Lucien listened to the gentle
clack
as she returned the teapot to the table. A few moments later he heard the sound of sandals on marble as a summoned servant brought a pitcher, heard the liquid sound of wine poured into glass.

Why had Dante turned Lilith to stone? Had Dante refused Lilith's protection because he was still angry with Lucien or had she never had the chance to speak to him?

Despite Gabriel's threat to force him to watch as he bonded Dante, Lucien had a sneaking suspicion the puffed-up
aingeal
hoped that the
creawdwr
wouldn't be found until
after
Gehenna and Lucien had faded from existence.

Otherwise Dante's energy would feed the land, restoring its and Lucien's vitality. Gabriel would then either have to kill Lucien outright to be rid of him or convince the
creawdwr
to unmake him.

Gabriel no doubt believed that Dante could be persuaded to create a new Gehenna, one shaped by a young and powerful
creawdwr,
one that wouldn't bear the stamp and quirks of
creawdwrs
past; a new age for the Elohim.

Gabriel's words rolled like thunder through Lucien's mind:
And he's been injured
--
perhaps by a severed bond.

How badly had he hurt his child in his effort to protect him?

The warm scent of apple blossoms and fruit-laden wine curled into Lucien's nostrils. He lifted his arm from his eyes and accepted the moisture-beaded glass Hekate offered him. "Thank you."

She nodded, then sipped from her glass of ruby red wine. She gave Lucien a sidelong glance, long silver-and-frost lashes shading her eyes. "My mother hated you for ages," she murmured. "And Gabriel worked hard to make sure I'd despise you."

"And you don't?"

" 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' " Hekate quoted, holding Lucien's gaze.

Lucien chuckled. "You are your mother's daughter." He took a long, cooling swallow of wine, tasting the clean bite of lime beneath the pomegranate.

"No, I'm nothing like Lilith. I have no desire for power. I don't understand why anyone would crave to rule a dying land anyway."

"It wasn't always dying," Lucien said softly.

"But that's all I've ever known--a dying land, a stagnant people, endless wars."

Disappointment curled through Lucien. A spy for Gabriel, after all. Albeit a radiant and alluring spy, even if a bit clumsy.

"And all you'd need to fix that is the
creawdwr,"
he commented, voice flat. "I don't know where he is, nor do I care."

Rosy color blossomed on Hekate's cheeks. "That's not what I meant," she said.

Lucien laughed. "Tell me, what
did
Gabriel mean for you to say? Perhaps you should've practiced a bit."

Indignation and chagrin chased across Hekate's lovely face. "I am
not
speaking for Gabriel," she said, chin lifted. "Only for myself."

Yes, very much Lilith's daughter. And yet ...

Hekate crossed to the purple-cushioned bench and sat down, her back straight. She cupped both hands around her stemless wine glass. "I've been Gabriel's hostage for most of my life," she said, her voice low. "Well-treated, yes. I've lacked for nothing. Except my freedom. Oh, Gabriel never would've stopped me from winging to the mortal world to see its wonders. But he would've hung my parents from hooks in Sheol until I returned."

Lucien sat up. "I didn't know."

A hostage to ensure the good behavior of Lilith and the Morningstar. But that still didn't explain why Lilith had never mentioned Hekate.

A dark possibility brewed in Lucien's mind.
Maybe she never told me because she hoped to trade my son for her daughter; every word uttered from her lush lips a lie.

Lilith of Lies.

Anger smoldered deep in Lucien's belly. He tossed back the rest of his wine.

"I think the
creawdwr is
your son," Hekate said, her violet eyes searching Lucien's. "I think everything you've endured in the pit and from Gabriel has been for your son's sake. I think you've been protecting him from
aingeals
like Gabriel and my father. And I think you severed your bond with him to keep Gabriel from following it."

Lucien said nothing.

Hekate finished her wine, then set the glass down on the marble floor. She rose to her feet, her hyacinth blue dress flowing like liquid silk along her curves, and walked to the balustrade.

"My
calon-cyfaill,
Jvala, was among the emissaries who went to greet the Maker," she said. "She's now silent, just like my mother."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lucien asked.

Hekate swiveled around to face him, one slender hand still holding the carved marble rail behind her. "I would do anything to find and free my
calon-cyfaill.
I would do anything to see my mother restored to flesh--despite all the harsh words between us."

Lucien forced himself to his feet. His heart kicked hard against his ribs once, then calmed. He walked across the terrace and joined Hekate at the balustrade. She lifted her gaze to his, and Lucien saw steel in the depths of her eyes, a heart-rooted resolve.

"I believe you."

"So if the
creawdwr
is your son, you would know where to find him, how to reason with him," she said. "If he's injured from the severed bond, you can balance him again. All I want is my mother and Jvala."

"Whether or not the Maker is my son doesn't matter," Lucien said gently. "I am captive here, bound to Gehenna. I can't help you."

"If you help me find Lilith and Jvala, I will help you escape," Hekate said, urgency edging her musical voice. "You'll still be tied to Gehenna's fate because of Gabriel's spell, but at least we'll be free."

"Hard for Gabriel to punish Lilith or the Morningstar with both of them in the mortal world," Lucien murmured. Tilting his head, he studied Hekate.

Perhaps she was more skilled in subterfuge than he'd first thought. Maybe she'd only played at being clumsy.

"How do you know I wouldn't abandon you the moment we arrived in the mortal world?" Lucien asked.

"Good question, and blunt." Hekate regarded Lucien, her index finger tapping against her chin as she considered. "I think I would have to place a
geis
upon you."

Lucien nodded. "And since I would need to be sure of your intentions as well, I would need to place a
geis
upon you too."

Hekate's eyes widened. A smile flickered across Lucien's lips. She hadn't thought things through all the way. A true schemer would have. A point in her favor.

Lucien shrugged. "How else can I trust you?"

Holding his gaze, Hekate drew in a deep breath of myrrh-scented air and lowered her shields. She lifted her chin again, daring him to refuse her gift--her unguarded mind.

But he couldn't delve into her mind. Not with his weak and fading shields. If he did, Hekate might see Dante in his thoughts, might see all his fears for his child.

"Name your
geis,"
Lucien said.

"You would be forbidden to leave my side. And yours?"

"You would be forbidden to lead anyone to my son or reveal his location."

"Accepted," Hekate said breathlessly. "Your son. I knew it."

Lucien pressed a finger against her lips. "Never say or think that again."

Hekate pushed Lucien's silencing finger aside. "I won't."

"Then I accept your offer and your terms."

A radiant smile illuminated Hekate's face, then she gasped. Wonder blossomed on her lovely face, illuminated her violet, gold-flecked eyes. Her wings untucked and fanned out--creamy white, the smooth undersides pale lavender.

"Anhrefncathl,"
she whispered, voice trembling. Tears glinted in her eyes. "So exquisite. So haunted."

Lucien felt like his heart had turned to stone. The glass slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor, wine spraying the blue marble like blood.

He neither heard nor felt Dante's song.

And severed bond or not, he should've heard. For whatever reason--Gabriel's spell, the severed bond--he'd lost Dante as son
and creawdwr.

The hole inside of Lucien ripped wider.

19
EVENTS BEYOND THE SCOPE OF MORTALS

ALEXANDRIA, VA
SHADOW BRANCH HQ
March 25

TEODORO DION HARVESTED THE last image from Sheridan's unraveling mind, then withdrew--but not before causing, then rupturing, several arterial aneurysms within the fed's brain. No choice; the FBI agent's mind had been too fragile to wipe.

Teodoro rose to his feet and smoothed the wrinkles from his Italian-style charcoal slacks as Sheridan's vitals monitors flatlined. An urgent and steady
beeeeeeep
filled the room. He arranged his face into a proper expression of concern and touched his fingers to the cold metal of the bed rail with just a dash of hesitancy.

A female med tech in blue scrubs dashed into the room. Teodoro stepped back from the bed and the dead man nested within its beige blankets.

"Can I do anything to help?" Teodoro asked.

The med tech shook her head, her razor-cut blonde shag sweeping across the back of her neck. "Just keep outta the way." She lowered the bed railing.

Several more med techs hurried into the room; one pushed a crash cart, his mustached face calm and focused. Swarming around the bed, the med techs went to work, shouting out instructions and observations as they worked to resuscitate Sheridan.

Teodoro walked from the room and into the corridor, the high-pitched
beeeeeeep
declaring game over fading behind him with each step away.

His report to Purcell would be interesting, to say the least.

An image from Sheridan's mind played behind Teodoro's eyes:
Light flares in the sky. Waves of intense blue, purple, and green light shimmer through the night--a dancing aurora borealis.

The statues had once been flesh.

And Dante Prejean was not what he seemed to be.

PURCELL WAS A NARCISSISTIC dickhead.

Looking all offended when she'd sparked up one of her clove cigarettes and ordering her to put it out. And what was up with his little speech to Emmett--the
never presume to know what Prejean would or wouldn't do
bullshit?

Man had one seriously big honking bug up his squeaky-tight ass.

Closing and locking the door to her temporary quarters, Merri swiveled around and looked the place over. Twin bed, nightstand, little trash basket, two-drawer dresser, easy chair--all in varying shades of beige--along with a small bathroom and closet.

Not bad for an overnight stay, all considered. The recycled air stank of ozone and fake pine. Ozone. Even though she knew the odor was due to the air filtration system, a cold finger traced her spine. She thought of blue sparks skipping along white stone.

I need to let Galiana know what we discovered in the woods outside Damascus. Maybe she has some ideas about what the hell is going on.

Merri tossed her overnight bag, ugly floppy-brimmed hat, and leather gloves onto the easy chair, then flopped onto the bed. Pulling her pack of Djarum Black cloves from the pocket of her suede jacket, she lit one up and took a long, delicious drag.

Merri exhaled spiced smoke into the air and thought of her
mere de sang,
Galiana al-Qibtiyah, strolling the evening-drenched streets of Savannah, tall and regal in a long, gauzy, sunset-shaded dress that showcased her chocolate brown skin and wavy, black hair. Tapping ash from her cigarette into the trash basket, she sent to Galiana.

<
Merri-girl, what's wrong? Exhaustion edges your thoughts.
>

<
Stupid stay-awake pills. Had a job to do during daylight hours.
>

<
Ah. I still don't understand why you want to work for mortals.
>

<
Sometimes I don't either.
>

Merri laid down on the bed and rested her head on the pillow. She described the Fallen Stonehenge circling the cave in the pine-, oak-, and elm-forested hills outside Damascus.

Blue sparks. Ozone. Heart beating within stone. Smooth wings.

<
Fallen magic, girl. But on this scale ... I think something huge is taking place.
>

<
Like what? How were so many of the Fallen transformed at once?
>

<
I'm not sure. Maybe this is the beginning of another war for power among the Elohim, or maybe it's a return of the Fallen en masse to the mortal world, but ...
>

A return? Merri wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. <
But what?
>

<
Something went wrong.
>

<
They're the Elohim, the Fallen. What could go wrong? How?
>