The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (6 page)

A cloaked figure, dark and with a menacing air, hovered behind the leader.

Goody. It’s the demon thing from inside the pyramid.

“My name is Marisol. He doesn’t need to know who I am, and I have no idea why I’m here. Why have you not told him who I am?”

“Because it doesn’t serve my purpose to share the information.”

Well, all right. She waited while he repeated what she’d said to the king. For a few seconds, she observed the ruler. He was definitely taller than the rest and clothed like a king, yet there was also something solid and steady about him. Mari cocked her head. And familiar. It wasn’t his appearance. She didn’t know anyone with a thick nose or overly full lips. It was something in the dark eyes drilling into hers and the way he stood that struck a chord with her. Her eyes widened. Jackson. He reminded her of Jackson. Was this guy some ancestor of Jackson’s?

“He says you lie,” the demon said. “You are an emissary of the enemy gods and must die.”

She snorted. “An emissary of enemy gods? Your king sounds a bit paranoid.” Yeah, that was Jackson.

The king spoke again, gesturing at her.

“My king says you are to be sacrificed at the foot of their god Ah Chuy Kak as a warning to all who would trespass on our lands,” the demon translated. Then his cloaked head turned to face her directly. “Now, we shall see, Fallen, whether or not you have a soul.”

Before he’d finished speaking, she was surrounded by more men. “Sacrifice?” she said, throwing off thoughts of Jackson. “I don’t think so.”

Whirling, she struck out with the palm of her hand, busting one man’s nose and snapping his head back. At the same moment, she side-kicked one of the other guards. Two down, several more to go. Hands up into fighting position and her body balanced over her feet, she waited.

Something hit her from behind, knocking her to her knees. Agony split her head in two. Her eyes watered. Fires of Hell, is this what human’s felt when they got hurt? With her head spinning, she was wrested to her feet and dragged over to the platform. A couple of the peacocks held her upright while another grabbed her chin and forced her head to face the grinning skull.

Chanting began, a singsong sound that should have sounded sinister, given that she suspected whatever was about to happen wouldn’t be good, yet the chant didn’t. To her ringing ears, clear tones resonated strong and clear into the day and were almost soothing.

Get a grip, Mari. You are about to die here.
Whether she could or not, whether Michael would actually allow her to die, didn’t matter. For the first time in her life, she was terrified.

Mari tried to turn her head. Punishing fingers squeezed harder, grinding teeth into soft flesh. A flash of red from the skull caught her eyes. She looked and was immediately ensnared in the glow. Her vision narrowed, focused only on the skull and its flame-lit eyes. Flickers within beckoned her to move closer.

She was only half-aware when the fingers released their hold. Even the throb of pain subsided until there was only the skull. She reached for the skull; her hands cupped the smooth, cool surface. Whispers of sound filled her mind. Voices? What were they saying? Moving closer, she strained to hear.

From within her body, she felt a tug. No, not a tug. Something ripping, pulling free. A part of her yearned to join with the skull. To become part of the light and the voices and its reality. In the deep recesses of her mind, another voice shouted, trying to drown out the seductive whispers. The ripping felt stronger. More pain now. A frisson of doubt crept into her mind, egged on by the shouting.

But the skull was stronger and Mari lost herself to the lights. A scream tore from her throat as her soul was sucked into the skull.

Chapter Four

With a wrench of stomach-turning motion, Mari jerked to the present. Her heart pounded a violent skip that left her dizzy. Slight pressure on her chest made it difficult to take in deep gulps of much-needed oxygen.

What the hell was on top of her? She flung out her hands and struck something cold and hard that yelped.

“Easy, doll. Watch the merchandise. I bruise easily.”

Her eyes snapped wide and trained on the small figure, about three feet tall, sitting on her chest with his legs crossed. He rubbed one of his shoulders and gave her a disgruntled
humph
.

“Get off me, imp,” she snarled and bucked her hips.

“Fine, fine,” he said and vaulted into the air. With the ability to fly that all Illianian demons possessed, he hovered. Close but far enough out of her reach. “You know, I was just making sure you were okay. You sure are grouchy when you wake up.”

“Rocky, by all that’s holy…”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” The imp looked past her. “I dunno, boss. Maybe something happened here,” he said and twirled a finger in a circular motion around the side of his head, “that messed her up.” A wide grin split the shapeshifter’s mouth. “Hey, Jackson, maybe you should, you know, like give her mouth to mouth.”

That’s it.
Mari surged to her feet, a fireball formed and ready before she was upright. Rocky yelped again and disappeared.

“Damn, that demon can dig himself into a hole, can’t he?”

She looked over at the speaker and her gaze lit upon Jackson, who leaned a hip against a desk. His green eyes were dark with concern and she could tell by the shifting of his feet he wanted to cross over to her to ensure she was fine.

Her gaze swept her surroundings, passing over Michael—she was not ready for him yet—noting the merrily crackling fire in the huge fireplace with its assortment of Egyptian canopic jars. Beyond that was a large wall filled with all kinds of lethal-looking weapons that were not just for show. A sudden onslaught of dizziness overtook her and she fell backward, landing in the soft easy chair.

“Lucifer’s balls,” she murmured.

Jackson was at her side in an instant. A strangely comforting gesture. So was the alarm darkening his gaze.

“Jesus, Mari, what happened? One second you were fine, the next you screamed and turned whiter than marshmallow.”

His green eyes bore into hers as if he were seeking to look deep into her soul. Obviously, he’d decided that the stoic male routine had lost its audience. As comforting as his presence was, she pulled back, an unreasonable fear tightening her muscles. His eyebrow lifted but he didn’t say anything. A blessing because she had no idea what she would say to him if he asked.

And why did she suddenly feel as if the skull priest’s face was superimposed over Jackson’s?

“I apologize for resorting to such extreme measures to show you the proof of what I speak,” Michael said, his tone low and soothing. “You had to understand just how dangerous the skull is. If Beliel and his human find the skull, not only will they be able to take human souls, but the souls of immortals.”

Like her soul. Something she hadn’t believed she possessed. That no angel, Fallen or otherwise, possessed. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Her mind felt battered. Bruised. Torn. Not quite the same as it was before.

She looked up at the tall Archangel. “You couldn’t have just told me?”

He tilted his head. The ever-present, slight smile curled on his lips. “Would you have believed me?”

“Sure,” she began, then stopped.

Would she have believed him if he’d simply told her she had a soul she was in danger of losing it? She’d never trusted him before. What did that say about her, anyway? That she wouldn’t trust the mighty Archangel Michael to tell her the truth?

His smile widened. “Yes, so you understand. As distasteful as it was, you had to see.”

Oh, she definitely saw. “Okay, so I believe you. Now what?”

“Now you and Jackson will go to Canada to the house of the woman who owns the skull. Buy the skull and bring it back here, where it can be kept safe from Beliel and anyone else who would use it to claim lives and destroy the world.”

She had one more question. “Why me?”

“Return the skull. You will understand then.”

Damn Michael and his crypticness. Why couldn’t he have responded with a straight answer?

His smile widened. “Go to Canada and retrieve the skull.” A gleam of something mischievous entered his brilliant-blue gaze. All her senses went on alert. “And Marisol? Travel there as the mortals do.”

Mari felt her mouth drop open and eyes widen. Travel as the mortals? She knew of only one way mortals traveled long distances or over vast bodies of water in a speedy manner. A flicker of apprehension shifted through her.

Before she could protest that, by his words, there wasn’t enough time, Michael lifted a brow at her, then went to the center of the room. “God be with you, Marisol Asheni and Jackson McKay.” He bowed and, in a burst of dazzling light, disappeared.

Shit, she thought, using a common expression she’d heard from Jackson. It seemed appropriate.

Mari glared at the spot Michael had stood. He asked much of her to expect her to get into one of those metal tubes. When she’d made the choice to follow Mikos after he decided to leave Hell and follow the Light, she’d chosen to obey Michael. This though… He was asking too much.

Mari sighed. Yet she would do it. She would hate it but she would do as Michael requested. After all, she had made the choice and she would abide by it, no matter how much her skin crawled at the idea of being in a plane.

She sensed Jackson come up beside her.

“Damn, Mari, is he always like this?”

She turned her head slightly. Jackson’s eyes were shiny with moisture, and he blinked rapidly. The angel’s light was definitely blinding. Frown lines creased his forehead.

She took a deep breath then answered on an exhale. “Yes, he is.”

With a wobbly push, she propelled herself out of the cushions. Testing to see if her powers had been returned, she dampened the fire with a murmured command and turned to leave the study.

“Where are you going?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to Canada.”

He put his hands on his hips and grinned. “How do you propose to do that? I heard the angel clear as day say for you to travel as the mortals. I’m thinkin’ that means an airplane. I’m also thinkin’ you know nothing about booking flights.”

She growled. “Of course I do not. I have never ridden in one of those ridiculous contraptions and I don’t intend to.”

“I suspect you don’t have a choice, darlin’.” The grin stretched into a full, bright smile. “Wouldn’t want the Archangel to be angry with you, would you? No telling what he might do.”

Mari growled again, low and long. Jackson kept his chuckle internal, knowing that if he laughed outright at the mesmerizing fallen angel, she’d likely rip his heart from his chest. And he was rather fond of the beating thing.

Under the glamour she wore to keep her demon appearance hidden, a spark of hellfire flickered in her gaze.

What in God’s name had happened to her? He wasn’t kidding when he told her she’d screamed and turned white. What he hadn’t told her was that he’d seen some kind of light pulsing from her body like a busted artery. The scream had been filled with pain and pure terror. What had the angel shown her that would terrify the lethal woman?

Granted, he’d only known her for six months but in that time, he’d never seen her express fear of any kind. She handled the missions and her life with an abandon he envied. No worries. No expectations. Just abandon.

He, on the other hand, had enough concerns to fill the Grand Canyon.

“Fine,” she snapped. “You will
book
the flight to Canada. I will ride in one of the contraptions.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll get us set up first class all the way. You’ll love it.”

She cocked her head at him, one hand on her curving hip. Clearly, she doubted his promise. “Let me know when you have made the arrangements.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find a demon, or a few hundred, to fight.”

In the space of a blink, she was geared up, her long sword held before her. Silver flashed, gleaming bright enough to make him want to shield his eyes. The only thing she didn’t have were her wings. His head canted. Come to think of it, he hadn’t ever seen the things.

As if in rebellion to Michael’s proclamation she was to travel as a human, Mari disappeared, apporting to only God knew where. Jackson pitied the poor demon, or few hundred, that crossed her path.

As for him, he had a stop to make before he went on another mission. A visit to a place he hadn’t been in far too long.

The being dressed as an old man waited. It wouldn’t be long before his guest showed. Even as the deadly storm whipped around him, he was untouched. With a mere thought, he could make the storm cease, but found he enjoyed its wild beauty.

He knew the moment his visitor arrived.

Asher Dakeni, Lucifer’s Slayer, stood before him in all his lethal glory. Despite the freezing temperatures and cutting wind, Asher remained unaffected. The old man calmed the storm as Asher bowed his head.

“My appreciation,” he said.

“All is well?” the old man asked. Even with all that he was, there were still limitations to what he could do. And where he could see. Which was why the Slayer was so important to his plans. A deadly game the old man played, he knew.