Conspiracy of Angels (27 page)

She shifted her weight till she was sitting fully on the arm of the couch, legs primly crossed at the ankles. She balanced with a shoulder against the wall.

“Like I said, we had a deal,” she repeated. “I give you the means. You confirm that the Eye is back in play. I got you to that ship once, Anakim. I didn’t expect you to fail. You’re normally more efficient than that.”

I wanted to smash the disapproving look right off her face. Instead, I pressed my palms hard against my temples. There were so many scenarios whirling in my head. I didn’t know which way to jump.

“And Remy?” I asked. “He in on it?”

Saliriel stood so swiftly I didn’t even see her move. One minute she was lounging on the arm of the couch, the next, she had me by the shoulder. Her long fingers vised into the leather of my jacket as she spun me around.

“You tell him
nothing
,” she hissed. Her face was inches from my own.

“Back off,” I said and shoved.

To my surprise, she let me. Crossing her arms again, she started pacing. Her heels ticked like a metronome against the tiled floor.

“The icon must remain a secret,” she said with quiet intensity. “From everyone.”

I watched her as she moved, trying to get a read on her body language. I’d grown accustomed to a certain level of flounce from Sal. Back here, however, all of that was missing. Lil’s many warnings clamored in my head. How much of Sal’s demeanor was genuine? I was tempted to drop some of my shields, to sense my sibling on that other level, but the pressure from Alice’s death bore down on me even though I was standing at the far end of the room. I wasn’t certain I had the control yet to block out one while sensing the other.

“So all that posturing and denial the other night—that was for Remy’s benefit?” I wondered.

“In part,” she allowed, “but as I said before, I thought you might be bluffing. The attack that followed in your wake? You work with spirits. You could have set that up.” She grimaced unhappily. “And it would be just like you to use my resources, then keep the goods for yourself.”

“That’s not like me at all!” I objected.

Her pale yellow eyes locked onto mine.

“Are you so certain of that?”

I couldn’t respond. What did I have for an answer? All that was left to me were ragged memories of the man I once was—and if I was being honest, I wasn’t certain that man was exactly a saint. I leaned wearily against the back wall, my wings ghosting out of the room.

“All right,” I acknowledged. “Forget that. You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you. We’re even,” I said. “But if you wanted to keep it secret, why bring me in on it at all?”

The edges of her plump, pink lips curled into a delighted smile. I had a sinking feeling that the proverbial scorpion once wore a smile like that—right before it stung the equally proverbial frog.

“My dear Zaquiel,” she answered, “you were the one who told me the Eye might have been recovered.”

I blinked. “I did?”

“That meeting, Thursday morning. Lake View Cemetery,” she prompted. “I set a time and a place to hear your offer.”

“What offer?”

“You promised to wipe a certain file in exchange for passage to Dorimiel’s vessel.”

“How did you even know about those files?” I choked.

Saliriel’s smile widened, exposing her fangs. “Because I am very good at this game, brother… and you are extremely predictable.”

I stood there and quietly fumed, reminding myself that she could be making all of this up—and with my ravaged memory, I had no sure way of knowing better. So I waited for her to continue.

“With your typical blundering boorishness, however, you failed to comprehend why I would refuse to act directly against another decimus of my tribe.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying you told me no?” I asked.

Saliriel laughed once, a harsh, dry sound. “Not exactly, Anakim—simply that I required more incentive to risk my own neck for a single missing woman. Transporting one of your kind across the water, so you could infiltrate my sibling’s ship? Treasonous. So you brought up the matter of the Eye, insisting that Dorimiel was a threat to us both.”

“And I was willing to hand over the Eye to you, just like that,” I scoffed. “Not likely.”

She arched a perfectly plucked brow. “And why not? I’m a decimus of the Nephilim. I’ve handled it before. I know its powers—and its price.”

“No,” I insisted.

Her painted lips curled in a feral grin. “Yet you brought pages torn from an obscure archaeological text in French, to prove to me that Dorimiel had acquired the Eye,” she purred. “Do you recall that book, or did he take that from you, too?”

I struggled to process all this new information, reconciling it with what I already knew. Was Sal lying? Of course she was—her lips were moving—yet some of it rang true. So I tried poking holes in anything that struck me as inconsistent.

“How did you
not
know?” I asked.

“Hrm?” Sal responded.

“The Eye,” I insisted. “It’s an ancient Icon that belongs to
your
primus, and it’s in the hands of another decimus. Someone from
your
tribe. If you’re so good at this game, how did you not know?”

The smug expression faltered.

“I wish I had an answer,” she responded, “but if Dorimiel truly uncovered the Eye during that expedition—and we must accept the possibility, given what’s happened to you—then he has been extremely… discreet about it. I would have expected him to flaunt such power.”

At no point did she mention the Stylus. I filed that away for later—I needed every advantage to keep on top of her game.

“He has kept his secrets well,” she observed, and the wily quirk of her lips returned by degrees. “But this works in our favor.”

“Your favor, you mean,” I said bitterly. It still didn’t sit right. “Why the hell did you meet with me Thursday morning, anyway? I heard how things went down Tuesday, when I first came to you for help. What changed your mind?”

“Let’s be clear,” she snapped. “Tuesday night you didn’t come here looking for help, Zaquiel. You came in here to accuse me of attacking you and your precious museum. Even Remy lost his temper—and that should tell you something,” she added with a sneer.

“Fine. I’m an asshole,” I responded. “Which makes Thursday even more confusing.”

She sighed. “Wednesday night Dorimiel sent one of his people to speak with me.” With a sniff of disdain, she continued. “That was the first I learned they were out on my lake. They had been there nearly three weeks, and hadn’t even had the courtesy to email me.”

I bit back a smart-assed comment. Sal was as delusional in her own way as Terael, who thought the museum was his own private temple.

“So what—Dorimiel’s lackey just copped to breaking into the museum?”

“Actually, he asked for my help in retrieving some things he felt belonged rightfully to his decimus.” There was a sudden edge to her voice, switchblade sharp and directed at me. Eyes agleam with yellow fire, she said, “You’d never told me what was stolen, Zaquiel. Which of my people are bound in those things?”

“Your people?”

“I read the papers today,” she spat. “That’s why Remy’s so agitated about this now, isn’t it? You were keeping demon jars—soul prisons—and all were made within the last two centuries. You neglected to mention that very salient detail,” she growled, and she started pacing again. This time her heels struck the floor like she intended to pound straight through it.

“Who were they, Zaquiel? And how did your tribe manage to circumvent the strictures laid out in the Covenant of the Six, in order to lock more of us away? Anakesiel couldn’t do it—he’d sworn as surely as my own primus to never use those skills on any of our brethren. Never again.”

“Whoa. Hold on,” I said, showing my palms. “You think
my
tribe’s responsible for the jars?” That confirmed it—she knew nothing about the Stylus.

She whirled on me. “Of course your tribe. Who
else
but your tribe? Anakesiel and the rest of you and your endless judgments—those sanctimonious atrocities should have ended with the Blood Wars.”

Slipping a hand into my leather jacket, I pulled out the photo I had tucked away. Wordlessly, I held it out to her. She sneered at it and hesitated, as if expecting some trick.

“All our cards on the table,” I said. It was a lie—but for once, a convincing one.

She leaned a little closer, peering at the letters pressed into the clay.

“This is an image of one of the stolen jars?”

“It is,” I responded.

Sal snatched the photo from me, incredulity twisting her features.

“Haniel?” she read. “But this is one of the Anakim.”

I’d made certain to leave the image of Anakesiel’s jar under the seat in Lil’s Sebring. Remy would tell her about that one, sooner or later, but the longer I could deflect her from asking about the Stylus, the better.

“Surprise,” I said.

“
T
ime’s up, Zack!”

That was Lil’s voice. She yelled so stridently from the other room that the words actually carried through the soundproofing of the door.

“What the hell?” I murmured.

“You don’t come out right now, I’m coming in after you!”

I pulled the door open a crack. Outside, there were muffled sounds of a struggle. Saliriel caught my wrist and pushed the door closed again, pressing the lock on the knob.

“Are you saying that Dorimiel bound him?” she hissed. “How?”

“That little Nephilim trinket you sent me after takes powers, as well as memories. How do you think?” I shot back.

Sal’s nostrils flared as she considered this, but she didn’t relinquish my wrist.

“
Zaquiel
,” Lil roared, and the power she put behind it crashed against me, making the insubstantial bits of me flare with silver fire.

“Someone get that woman under control!” Saliriel bellowed back, loud enough to make my ears ring. She didn’t bother to open the door, just counted on her orders to carry through sheer volume. As soon as the words were out, she turned her attention back to me.

“If I help,” she said, “I require an oath.”

“I’m not swearing to anything,” I said.

“We can’t blithely barge in on another decimus of the Nephilim—especially not if he’s armed with an Icon,” she answered. “Dorimiel pretends his vessel is a pleasure boat, but he’s on that lake for security. No one approaches without approval. It was risky enough the first time, getting discreetly within range so you could slip onboard through the Shadowside.”

“Obviously you didn’t stick around long enough to help me with an exit strategy,” I grumbled.

“That wasn’t part of the arrangement,” she replied tersely, “but it was your plan, and it failed. This time, we do things my way.”

“Not a chance.”

More noise came from the main floor of the club. I thought I heard Remy yelling, but with the door closed, it was too muted to make out anything of substance.

“They’re looking for you. They’ve already come to me for help on that point. It’s a perfect opportunity. They’ll let us on board if they believe I’m delivering you.”

I didn’t like it. “How do I know this isn’t some trick to get me out there willingly?”

Sal tightened her grip on my wrist, and I had the sick realization that she could crush bones if she wanted. She locked eyes with me.

“You want my help? This is the cost. You will follow my orders without question until we get you on board Dorimiel’s vessel. Everything discussed back here—including the Eye—remains our secret. You don’t breathe a word to another living being. Swear it to me.”

“I don’t trust you, Sal. Not as far as I can shot-put your implants,” I snarled. “Even if you move against them once we’re on board, how do I know you won’t just grab the Eye, and use it on me?”

Something heavy slammed against the door, rattling the whole frame.

“Would you rather it stay in Dorimiel’s hands?”

The door shook again, and someone twisted the handle. I still had my hand on it, and Sal closed her spindly fingers over mine, forcing me to hold it in place.

“Are you seriously using the lesser of two evils argument?”

“You don’t remember our previous agreements,” she hissed. “I assure you, this is not our first back-room deal.”

Again—frustratingly—I couldn’t dispute her. I ground my teeth while she ground my knuckles.

“You swear, then,” I answered. “Swear you won’t use it. Not on me. Not on Remy. Not on anyone.”

“As a gesture of goodwill, I will swear not to use it on you,” she allowed. “Others? No—I can’t predict what circumstances may arise in these changing times, and I refuse to be hobbled in matters of survival. But I assure you,” she purred, “it’s not my intent to abuse the Eye. I want it for safekeeping.”

“Bullshit,” I spat.

“With the information that I have, I could go and seize it without you,” she threatened. “You
must
swear that you’ll keep it a secret. No one learns of it. Not even Remy.”

I hesitated, uselessly trying to tug my hand out from under hers. Sal’s grip was unyielding.

“I get why you want something that powerful in your arsenal, but why hide it from Remy? He’s like Alfred to your Batman.”

Sal leaned down so she was nose to nose with me—so close I could see the green striations in her otherwise yellow eyes.

“I don’t have time to explain to you why it’s so important,” she hissed, “but I won’t do anything without your oath. Secrecy, and you follow my lead.”

Lil and Remy’s voices rose and fell on the other side of the door, and I thought I heard the muffled roar of the lioness.

Another impact battered the frame.

Yellow fire flared in the depths of Saliriel’s eyes.

“I could make things very difficult for you without the slightest inconvenience to me. Dorimiel’s man left me ways to contact him. Should I call to inform him that you’re here with me?”

I couldn’t risk calling her bluff. What would they do to Lailah?

“I’d really prefer not to burn my bridges with you, Anakim,” she said. “Now swear. On your strength and on your Name,” she urged, “swear to keep this discussion a secret. You will not speak of the Eye to any living being except for me, and until we get you onto the boat, you will do as I say.”