Eve of Chaos (20 page)

“You know what I
mean.” Irritation and impatience crawled through him, making him eager to get
away. Whatever endorphins his recent orgasms had afforded him were rapidly
diminishing. “You’ve had the masking ingredients for months. I expected more
from you by this point.”

Fred whistled
and sidestepped out of the light.

Hank’s beautiful
features hardened. “Go away now, Cain,” she said with dangerous softness.
“Before one of us says or does something that we both regret.”

Knowing that
Hank was right, Alec shifted away.

“Hey.”

Sara smiled at
the cocky young man who called out to her. As she passed the volleyball court
in the open courtyard of Izzie’s apartment complex, he watched her with avid
interest. Dressed in only board shorts and a pair of sunglasses, he was
handsome enough and boasted a well-muscled physique. She briefly considered
dallying with him just for the sport, but the notion quickly soured. His leer
told her he lacked the experience to properly satisfy her.

Dismissing him,
she climbed the steps to the second floor and knocked. She had to knock again
before the door opened and Izzie was revealed. Fresh from a shower and makeup
free, the blonde looked impossibly young. Fragile and wary as only a child
could be.

Sara pushed her
way inside when the door didn’t open fast enough for her. The apartment was
expansive and bilevel, with vaulted ceilings and steps up to the open dining
area and kitchen, as well as a guest bath and bedroom. The master suite was on
the same level as the living room and steam from the shower brought humidity
into the lower half of the space.

“What happened
to you?” Sarakiel demanded, eyeing the Mark critically.

“Cain.”

“Really? You
look worse for wear. Not that I am surprised. Cain is Cain, after all.”

“I am not so
sure about that,” Izzie said wearily. Bundled inside a thick terry-cloth robe with
wet hair hanging around her shoulders and wan face, she padded over to a red
velvet sofa and sat.

Sara joined her.
“Tell me.”

When the tale
was finished, Sara settled into the crook of the sofa arm and considered the
possibilities. “Did Cain give a name to the seraph?”

“No.”

 
“Can
you
get it out of him?”

“You don’t
understand.” Izzie’s slender fingers played with the loops of cotton. “He was
reluctant at first, and later, like a.
. .
machine. There was nothing in his face.
. .
in his eyes. Nothing. He spoke in a language I
couldn’t understand.”

“Hmm.
. .
I will see for myself.”

Izzie’s head
cocked to the side. “How?”

“There are video
feeds all over the tower.”

“He is not the
same man I met before. Something isn’t right with him.”

Sara pulled out
her cell phone. She tried Abel again, knowing she would only reach his voice
mail but needing to make the, attempt regardless. On a whim, she texted a
message to Evangeline.

How would the
Mark handle the news of Cain’s infidelity? And how far would Cain go to keep
the knowledge from her?

A seraph. She
hid an inner smile. That limited the scope of her search considerably. Whomever
it was, he’d paid a visit to Cain recently enough to spark the ludicrous plan
he’d presented to Izzie. Perhaps the meeting had taken place in the tower.
While the divine radiance of the seraphim was undetectable to mortal technology
such as the video cameras used in Gadara Tower, perhaps Cain had spoken the
seraph’s name in the course of their discussion. It was a lead, however faint.

“What do you
want me to do now?” Izzie asked.

“Mariel will not
assign you once Cain speaks with her, so enjoy some time to yourself.”

“I’m here if you
need me.”

Sara brushed the
back of her fingers across Izzie’s pale cheek. “You will go far, Iselda.”

The Mark curled
deeper into the couch with a weary sigh. “As long as I go to Heaven. Having
seen the alternative, I will do whatever it takes to go the other way.”

“Anyone up for
tacos?” Eve entered the living room and noted the setting sun just beyond her
balcony window. The sky was multihued, telling her that she’d spent hours in
bed with Reed. Long enough for Sydney to give up on the Wii and switch to her
laptop. Montevista was nowhere to be seen.

“I am.” Sydney
snapped her computer closed and stood, stretching. “Montevista went to check on
the perimeter guards again.”

“Great. We can
catch him downstairs and save him the trip back up.”

Sydney rounded
the coffee table. Eve once again marveled at how different the Mark looked in
street clothes versus her work attire. Dressed in a dark pink Juicy Couture
jogging suit, she didn’t look anywhere near her centuries-old age.

“Are you okay?”
Sydney looked her over. “You look sad.”

Eve was taken
aback a moment, then realized that while she might not consciously acknowledge
her feelings of loss over Alec, that didn’t mean they weren’t visible. “I’m
fine.”

And she would
be. Eventually. She didn’t regret her afternoon with Reed, even though she’d
further complicated her already messy love life.

After grabbing
some cash from her purse, Eve followed Sydney out the door and locked the many
dead bolts she’d had installed for protection back when she was Unmarked. Then
they set
off,
passing the door to Alec’s condo. He’d made it clear on
more than one occasion that he would prefer to be living with Eve and not
beside her, but the Hollises were Southern Baptists and shacking up before
marriage was a serious no-no in her family. Even the next- door neighbor thing
was a little too close for comfort .

The ride down to
the lobby level was quick and they moved onto the marble-lined entryway with
light steps.

“I’d kill for a
place like this,” Sydney said.

“Don’t you?” Eve
quipped, glancing at her. “You should check with someone about moving, if you’re
not happy where you live.”

“I’m okay. But I
could be happier in a place like this,” Sydney smiled. “Not worth it for me to
hit up Ishamel about it, though. He freaks me out.”

Frowning, Eve
asked, “Who’s Ishamel?” They crossed through the parking garage and exited out
a self-locking iron gate. Eve glanced to her left, searching out the corner
where Evil Santa missionary usually hung out. He was there and talking to
Montevista. Luckily, the nut job was facing away from her, while the Mark
looked directly at her.

“Heading to El
Gordito,” she said, in her normal conversational tone, knowing his
mark-enhanced ears would easily allow him to hear. He gave a surreptitious
thumbs-up.

“Ishamel is
Gadara’s factotum.”

“The secretary?”
The man who kept Gadara’s office running like clockwork was white-haired and
slightly stooped at the shoulders, with a penchant for sleeveless sweater vests
and bow ties. Whenever Eve crossed his path, she wondered what he could have
done to get marked. Since the mark arrested aging, he’d been old from the
get-go.

“No, that’s
Spencer. He handles everything inside Gadara Tower.” Pushing sunglasses onto
her face, Sydney turned toward the beach. “Ishamel is the off- site guy. I’m
sure you’ve seen him around. He dresses in gray from head to toe. Rides around
in a limousine.

Eve’s stride
faltered. Gray Man. She’d met him back when she was a brand-spanking-new Mark.
He’d picked her up in a limo and driven her to Gadara Tower. “He’s creepy.”

They hit the
sand and turned left. The restaurant was within sight, a casual Mexican cantina
with a Plexiglas-framed patio.

Eve considered
whether or not it had been a mistake to forget about Ishamel. If he was
Gadara’s right-hand man, he would know how archangels functioned. Maybe he
could help her figure out what was happening to Alec.

“I get the
willies just thinking about his grin,” Sydney went on.

“It’s really
more like a constipation-induced grimace.” Eve tried to recall other details
about him, but without much luck. “What is he? I don’t remember him smelling
like anything—Mark or Infernal—but I was really green at the time.”

“Ishamel is a
mal’akh,
but not a handler like the others. His sole purpose to make life easier for
Gadara, handling all the pesky little details that are beneath an archangel but
too important for Marks.”

“Arranging
housing is too important for Marks?”

“Moving into
more expensive digs would take authorization a mere Mark couldn’t give.
Especially in this crappy economy. All the firms are taking a hit.”

“I didn’t think
about that,” Eve’s nose wrinkled. “I hate to admit it, but I guess I’ve come to
see the firms as solid, invincible. But you’re right. We’re based in
California—the epicenter of the housing market collapse. And Gadara specializes
in real estate.”

They reached the
patio and took an empty table with an unimpeded view of the beach. Trays and
trash littered the surface due to an inconsiderate patron, but they tossed the
mess in a nearby trash can and waited for a busboy to wipe the table down with
a rag.

Montevista
walked up just as the waiter approached.

“Three taco
plates, please,” Eve ordered. “Extra pico de gallo and sour cream.” She looked
at her companions. “What are you having?”

Sydney laughed.
“I had no idea interior design worked up such an appetite.”

Eve was grateful
the mark prevented blushing.

After the orders
were in, drinks were on the table, and they were relatively alone, Montevista
leaned back in his plastic patio chair and said, “The reverend on the corner is
really gunning for you, Hollis.”

“Reverend?”

Montevista
smiled. “Presbyterian.”

Eve reached for
her iced tea. “He’s a whack job. Zealots like that should be marked. They’re
clearly devoted. If the seraphim sent enough of them after Satan, he’d give up
quick.”

“He thinks
you’re a call girl.”

“What the hell?”

“Because of the
number of men you have visiting

“Maybe I’m
holding Bible study. Did he ever think of that?”

Montevista’s
eyes twinkled behind his dark shades. “He says you have a body built for sin.”

“Gee, thanks. Did
you straighten him out?”

“I fought the
good fight, but he says I’m bewitched. I don’t think anyone short of God will
get him to change his mind.”

“Great.” Eve
crossed her arms.

Sydney smiled.
“Hey, look on the bright side. I wish someone said I had a body built for sin.”

“You do have a
body built for sin,” Montevista said with a soft purr that made Eve look twice.

Sydney stared at
her partner for a long moment, then gulped down her soda. Eve’s brows rose. How
long had Montevista had the hots for Sydney? And why did Sydney seem so
surprised? After working together for decades, any sort of attraction shouldn’t
have gone unnoticed.

“Anyone short of
God, eh?” Eve repeated, considering. “You just gave me an idea.”

“Uh-oh.”
Montevista looked at her with brows raised above the top edge of his
sunglasses.

Eve gave him a
mock glare. “I have to return a Bible to Father Riesgo. I’ll ask him to come
over and put in a good word for me.”

“Tossing a
priest into the line of fire?” Sydney asked dryly.

“Have you seen
Riesgo? That man can take care of himself. Besides, he seems determined to save
me.” Eve sat back as the waiter returned with a tray overflowing with plastic
plates. “He can start with Evil Santa.”

Alec
sat on the steps of the old Masada fortress for nearly an hour before the power
he gained from proximity to the firm waned and he felt remotely like himself
again. He breathed slowly and deeply, battling against his new nature until he
reestablished enough control to consider associating with others. He needed
help, but he wouldn’t get it if he kept being an asshole.