Eve of Destruction

• PROLOGUE
  
• CHAPTER 1
  
• CHAPTER 2
  
• CHAPTER 3
  
• CHAPTER 4
  
• CHAPTER 5
  
• CHAPTER 6
  
• CHAPTER 7
  
• CHAPTER 8
  
• CHAPTER 9
  
• CHAPTER 10
  
• CHAPTER 11
  
• CHAPTER 12
  
• CHAPTER 13
  
• CHAPTER 14
  
• CHAPTER 15
  
• CHAPTER 16
  
• CHAPTER 17
  
• CHAPTER 18
  
• CHAPTER 19
  
• CHAPTER 20
  
• AUTHOR’S NOTE
  
• APPENDIX
  

EVE
of

DESTRUCTION

TOR BOOKS BY S. J. DAY

Eve of Darkness
Eve of Destruction
Eve of Chaos
*

*
Forthcoming

DESTRUCTION

S. J. Day

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK

 
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

EVE OF DESTRUCTION

Copyright © 2009 by Sylvia Day

All rights reserved.

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor
^®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

ISBN: 978-0-7653-6042-7

First Edition: June 2009

Printed in the United States of America

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To all our soldiers serving in the United States military: Thank you. You are respected and deeply appreciated.

For those of you on foreign soil: Come home safe. We love and miss you.

•  •

My time in the military was deeply enriched by the soldiers who crossed my path. From Foxtrot Company, 229th Military Intelligence Battalion: Oglesby, Frye, Antonian, Doughty, Anderson, Edmonds, Calderon, McCain, Slovanick, and Pat.

Christine: You will always be the sister of my heart.

I love you, guys. Never Quit.

My deep gratitude goes to:

My editor, Heather Osborn, for giving me the time I needed and for all the cheerleading she does behind the scenes to support this series.

Nikki Duncan (
www.nikkiduncan.com
) for the McCroskey name and enthusiasm over
Eve of Darkness
.

Jordan Summers, Karin Tabke, Sasha White, and Shayla Black for always being there for me. Y
ou rock, ladies!

Melissa Frain at Tor for loving the first book enough to clamor for this one.

Seth Lerner for breaking one of his cardinal rules. I’m honored.

Denise McClain and Carol Culver for assisting me with the French dialogue.

Giselle Hirtenfeld/Goldfeder, whose first name I gave to a nightmare in this book. The real Giselle is actually a dream to work with.

Susan Grimshaw of Borders Group, Inc., whose last name I appropriated for an alpha werewolf. Far from being villainous (like my Alpha turns after the loss of his child), Sue is one of my heroes.
Thank you, Sue, for all the support you have given to me and my books over the years.

My father, Daniel Day, for his help with the Italian dialogue.
Thanks, Dad!

Th
erefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.”

—GENESIS, 4:15

Anno Domini 2008
Class R4AD08

Student/Origin:

Callaghan, Kenneth: Scotland

Dubois, Claire: France

Edwards, Robert: England

Garza, Antonio: Italy

Hogan, Laurel: New Zealand

Hollis, Evangeline: United States

Molenaar, Jan: Holland

Richens, Chad: England

Seiler, Iselda: Germany

Number of Graduates:

CLASSIFIED

Number of Casualties:

CLASSIFIED

Status:

PENDING INTERNAL REVIEW

Evangeline Hollis woke to the scents of Hell—fire and brimstone, smoke and ashes.

Her nostrils flared in protest. She lay on her back, unmoving, willing her brain to catch up with her circumstances. Licking her lips, she tasted death, the bitterness coating both her tongue and mouth in a thick, immovable wash. Her muscles shifted in an attempt to stretch and a groan escaped her.

What the hell?
The last thing she remembered was . . .

. . . being burnt to a crisp by a dragon.

Panic assailed her with the memory, quickly followed by her mind lurching into full awareness. Eve jackknifed up from her sprawled position, sucking in air with such force it was audible. She blinked, but only inky darkness filled her vision. Her hand reached
up to her arm and her fingertips found the raised brand there. The Mark of Cain—a triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it. The eye of God filled the center.

The mark burned whenever she took the Lord’s name in vain—which was often—and whenever she lied, which was less often but useful on occasion. When dealing with Satan’s minions, playing dirty leveled the playing field.

Where the fuck am I?
In her upright position, the smoky stench in the air was magnified. Her nose wrinkled.

Maybe I’m in Hell?
As a longtime agnostic, she still struggled with facing the reality of God. Heaven, Hell, souls . . . They were concepts that couldn’t be explained with reason.

Besides, if there was a merciful God and a Heaven, she’d be there. She had only been cursed with the Mark of Cain for six weeks and she hadn’t yet been properly trained in how to kill Infernals, but during that short time she had eradicated a tengu infestation, killed a Nix, and managed to vanquish a dragon. She’d also helped put a lid on a major new threat to the good guys—a concoction of some sort that allowed Infernals to temporarily hide in the guise of mere mortals.
And
she’d managed to get Cain and Abel to work together for the first time since they were kids.

If all that wasn’t enough to save her soul, she would take her chances with the Devil. Maybe he’d have a better sense of fair play.

As Eve’s mind struggled to catch up with her present,
the sound of singing penetrated the fog of her thoughts. She couldn’t understand a word, but it was familiar all the same. The language was Japanese; the voice, her mother’s.

The idea of sharing Hell with her mother was oddly both comforting and chilling.

Eve’s hands clenched tentatively, testing the soft surface beneath her, attempting to discern where she was. She felt satin, like the sheets on her bed. A cool breeze touched her brow and Eve’s vision exploded into living color. She jerked violently in surprise.

She
was
in her bedroom, sitting atop her king-size bed. As if her senses had been muted, the steady crashing of waves against the Huntington Beach shoreline increased in volume. The soothing rhythm drifted down the hall from her living room balcony and brought welcome relief.

Home. As her tension dissipated, Eve’s shoulders relaxed. Then, a brief glimmer in the periphery of her vision made her turn her head.

Lifting her arms to shield her eyes from the blinding light, she barely made out the silhouette of a winged man standing in the corner between her bleached pine closet doors and her dresser. Eve blinked back an unusually thick wash of tears. She risked another glance at the angel and found that, once again, her mark enhancements knew what to do even when she didn’t. Her arms lowered. She could see him now without damage to her vision.

The angel was tall, with brawny arms and legs displayed by a knee-length, sleeveless robelike garment.
The gown was white and belted with a tan braid. The black combat boots with wicked spikes running up and down the outside were a surprise, as was the impossible perfection of his features. His jaw was square and bold, his hair dark and restrained in a queue at his nape. His irises shimmered like blue flame, and he had an air about him that warned her to keep on his good side.

His gaze lowered to her chest. Hers followed. She was nude.