HALLELUJAH! HE WAS FREE! Gulping the fresh air, Af raised his face towards the sun that graced the glorious blue sky. Breathing deeply, he felt optimistic for the first time in days. Step one of his plan was a success: he was out and his powers were humming at full capacity.
Now on to step two . . .
Torture, maim, and kill the demon. Then piss on his ashes. Then scoop up the mess and bury it in the center of the deepest pit in Hell. Then piss on it again.
Then maybe he’d feel better. Then again, maybe not.
Striding down Park Avenue with Seth’s smirking face front and center in his mind, he ignored the scattered storefronts and residences that lined the sidewalks. Seth wasn’t there. The ornate entrance of the Church of Our Saviour blurred right by too. Seth damn sure wasn’t inside that building. Waaaay too much holy water.
And priests. Seth wasn’t big on priests since he was exorcised during the Inquisition.
Bottom line? Seth wouldn’t be hanging around Park Avenue. Period. This was too high end for his activities. The demon would surround himself with thugs and criminals and his favorite demon soldiers in some decrepit, skanky warehouse by the riverfront or up in one of the boroughs. He might do business here, but he wouldn’t linger. If he could only get a bead on his prey, he could zoom in and end this once and for all. But where was he? Hunting with intense focus, he swept his eyes back and forth across the road while dodging a woman with a rat-dog on a pink leash before stopping at the crosswalk. Tense and impatient to move, he tapped his fingers along the side of his thigh.
He needed to think. Needed a calm place to gather his thoughts and come up with a real plan of attack. Charging through the city like his ass was on fire wasn’t going to help him find Seth. He had to put together a strategy, but between the traffic and the heartbeats of millions of people, he was bombarded with brain-numbing sound. Friggin’ angel hearing didn’t have a low enough volume setting. Going back to the penthouse was a no-go. Was there anywhere around here that was quiet? The drawn out wail of a fire engine grew louder as the truck inched its way through the congested traffic two streets over. The cars either didn’t or couldn’t move so it sat there with its damn siren destroying his eardrums. Stuck in the mass of pedestrians waiting to cross, he ground his teeth at the delay.
Tick-tock, humans! I’ve got a demon to kill.
By the time he spotted a tree-filled park on the other side of Union Square, he was one more car horn away from smiting every person in a five-mile radius. Clenching and unclenching his fingers to keep them from strangling someone, he zigzagged through clumps of aimlessly wandering humans. The ungrateful animals would never know they were saved by trees. He loved trees. Trees were calming. Trees were quiet.
Trees didn’t have sirens.
This park would be a good place to get his thoughts together, but he had to cross through Union Square to get to it. The massive concrete square was filled with the rank stench of thousands of sweat glands competing with the heavenly fragrance of cooking meat over smoky coals. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. This is why I hate people.
Here and there, small tents and tables stacked with cooked food or farmer’s produce broke up the large stretches of pavement. Shoving his way to the middle of the square, he tried to get his bearings. Good God! It was chaos! Everywhere he looked there were people, people, and more people. He was surrounded by the exact creatures he wanted to avoid. Like cockroaches in a storm drain! They swarmed around him with their chattering cellphones and their music players. Every heartbeat and breath battered his ears, every nasally voice assaulted him; even the subsonic hum of their souls seeped into his brain. And the motherfucking fire engine was still stuck in traffic!
What the hell was wrong with these people? Let the truck through for fuck’s sake!
Narrowing his eyes, he heard himself growl, “You want the city to burn? I can make that happen. Keep this shit up, and I’ll burn the city to the ground!”
Behind him, the sound of two vehicles colliding only added to the racket. Really? Couldn’t these morons drive? The horns, the sirens, the breaking glass was all too much. Too friggin’ distracting! He needed to get the hell out of this shithole of a city before he lost his temper and killed everyone.
Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, he searched the crowd for a path to peace. To his right, a woman balanced a toddler on one hip while trying to pay a vendor for a plate of something that smelled like burnt cow. Instead of waiting quietly like a good child, the boy was busy trying to grab the money and shrieking his head off. Every time she tried to hand the money to the vendor, the brat grabbed at it until the vendor finally had to lunge for it. As Af watched with his nose curled against the smell, the child let loose an earsplitting screech that went on and on and on until the mother slapped him. The kid shut up immediately. Bravo! Better her than Af. He was on the verge of decapitating the noisy creature.
“Hey! Don’t slap that child!” Red faced with indignation, another woman shoved her way forward and grabbed the mother by her arm. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t do that!”
“Get your hands off me, bitch!” Disregarding the child completely now, the mother set him down and punched the first woman in the face.
And then all kinds of shit hit the fan. The rangy vendor began yelling in Ethiopian. Another customer cut in line to get his meal. As soon as he did, a third man scolded him on cutting. A fourth man pushed his way between them, trying to settle things until someone punched him in the nose. He let loose with a string of curses and tackled the man who’d cut first. The two women fell to the ground and were rolling around, punching, and slapping each other. Meanwhile, the boy wandered into traffic. Tires squealed. Yet another person screamed. Metal crunched.
“You moron! Get out of the street!”
Slapping his hands over his ears and clamping his lips together before he said something he’d get in trouble for, he stalked towards what he thought would be the quiet of the park. Stopping dead, he groaned. No! He swiveled his astonished gaze in a 180° sweep. Humans everywhere! Talking! Laughing! Breathing! Where did they all come from? His sanctuary was packed. There were benches along the sidewalks, but they were filled with people eating their food. There wasn’t an empty seat in sight.
Growling under his breath, he cut across the sidewalk to a tree and pressed his back against it to think. His head ached. If he had his wings he could simply fly away! If he had his fucking wings, he wouldn’t be in this damn mess to begin with. Would he be trapped in this hellhole for eternity? It was inconceivable. He’d kill every living thing and his father would be displeased. His job wasn’t to kill the human race. Not yet anyway. That mission was still on the distant horizon. No, even if he despised the noisy creatures, his father did not. He couldn’t smite the island of Manhattan either. Raphael would have his ass if he hurt his precious pets.
Wincing at the sudden staccato sound of automatic weapons fire, he rubbed his eyes in search of some relief. If he could somehow tune out the noise . . . Closing his eyes helped to settle his thoughts until the obnoxious blasting of two car horns jarred him from his musings. The horns, followed by the squealing of tires and the crunch of metal, were nearly outshouted by the humans who were driving the cars.
That’s it! He couldn’t hear himself think, let alone make plans.
“Quiet!”
Everyone within one hundred yards went silent—muted by the power of God—or at least the power of Af. His father would likely frown on his methods, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was losing his mind. Surely a wee bit of angelic interference was better than an insane Angel of Destruction? Of course, all the people ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, their mouths moving with silent screams.
The key word being silent.
They’d live. Drawing a deep breath, he tamped down the distracting rage pouring through him and prepared to meditate. Leaning back again, he closed his eyes and brought Seth’s image to the front of his mind. Where are you, Seth? Here demon, demon . . . Come out, come out, wherever you are!
Beginning with his most recent memories, he backtracked to the day Seth got the jump on him. The more he remembered, the more furious he got. By the time he visualized the friggin’ asshole eating the flesh off his bones, he was glowing with rage. Rubbing his healed ribs, he clenched his jaw and imagined all the ways he’d kill Seth. He’d been around awhile so there were plenty of ideas floating around in his head. He just had to find him first.
After ten minutes of scanning the world for Seth’s energy, he came up with a big fat zero and an irritating buzz in his ears. Damn it to Hell. Where was he? That smarmy demon had a lot to answer for. Before he killed him, Af was going to force him to undo the dark mojo he used to pin his wings. Uriel was sure it was Lucifer’s doing, but Af wasn’t convinced. What would Lucifer gain by grounding him? Af was one of his go-to guys. It didn’t make sense.
Just as he opened his eyes, a drop of rain plopped onto his head. Then another. And another. All around him, people had fled to gather in terrified clusters outside his sound-free zone. Now they glanced up at the sky and began to wander off.
Oh, look! There’s a helpful policeman staring at him with the urge to be a hero stamped all over his face. He took a step in his direction, but Af shook his head, and warned, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, officer.”
The man stopped suddenly and turned around to leave. Good idea. I don’t have time for interruptions.
As the rain fell hard enough to plaster his hair to his skull, he thought of another rainy scene.
A rainy tropical scene.
A rainy tropical scene with the cause of all of this trouble kicking and screaming in the middle of it.
If she was still alive, he could track her. If she was still alive, she was with Seth. He’d made it clear he was going after her himself. The girl would be easy pickings for Lucifer’s bright and shiny suck up. Feeling more optimistic in spite of the rain now molding his clothes to his body, he extended his sight to tap into Rori’s mind as she lay sleeping in the penthouse.
Every human’s soul had a unique signature that allowed it to be tracked. He only needed to see the girl from Rori’s vision one more time. Once he identified her signature, he’d commit it to memory and use it to find her. Find the girl. Find the demon.
Find the demon. Get his wings back.
It took only a few seconds to locate Rori and get to work. She was still soundly asleep on her bed. Perfect. In sleep, her subconscious was vulnerable to exploitation. He was inside and nosing around in a flash. It really should’ve been harder to slip into her head, but it was a piece of pie, or cake, whatever. Once inside, he shoved aside her recent memories until he came to the vision of the girl. There you are.
Struggling and probably screaming her bloody head off, the girl was exactly as Rori described her. As he watched, the soldiers dragged her away from her boyfriend’s body. One tossed her over his shoulder and took off. Seth.
Gotcha, you prick. I’m coming for you.
Rori mumbled in her sleep and twitched her middle finger. Was she coming around? Pushing thoughts of vengeance to the side for now, he used his sight to identify the girl before Rori figured out what he was doing.
Irina. Her name was Irina.
Rori gasped and stiffened. Poof! Irina and Seth dissolved into blackness. Had she sensed him? Noooo, definitely not possible. He was too good for discovery. Backing out, he drew his sight back to his own mind.
Wiping his hands on his pants, he took a long, slow look around the park and smiled with satisfaction. My work here is done.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Irina screamed and turned to run, but the freeway vanished in a screeching whirl of light. Crushing pressure twisted her body until her spine nearly snapped. Then it was over. Seth held her flush against his chest in the middle of a bland hotel room.
“Oh, my God! How did we get here?” Hysteria forced the words from her throat.
“Shut up.” He clutched the back of her head, bending her over his arm, covering her mouth in a brutal kiss that drew blood. His fingers dug into her skull as she struggled to break free. Clawing and kicking, she fought with all of her strength, but it was like throwing herself against a mountain. He ignored her struggles as he let his anger loose. Gripping her braid in his fist, he pulled her head back to bare her throat.
Nipping the skin, he flicked his tongue over her artery before saying, “What part of demon do you not understand? I warned you. You were afraid before. Now I’m going to give you a reason.” With that, he dropped her to the bed and straddled her waist. She screamed and he jammed his hand over her mouth. With sharp, angry movements, he jerked his belt free and wrapped it around her head, gagging her with it. “I wanted to make this fun for you, my sweet. I really did. Since tomorrow’s your last day on the human plane, I was going to give you a treat tonight. But, no, you had to run.”
Shaking her head, she shrieked around the gag, tears flowing as if the dam had finally broken. Above her, he only wagged his head in disapproval. Clucking his tongue, he dropped his gaze to her chest and began unbuttoning her shirt. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her neck almost gently, murmuring soothing words in that guttural voice that sent dread swarming over her skin. Flicking his tongue over her throat, he lingered over the pulse jumping in her neck for the space of a heartbeat before sinking his fangs into it.
The quick burst of pain receded to an ache as he suckled slowly. One lean hand held her head at the angle he wanted while the other gripped her shoulders, holding her still and holding himself in position. His weight pressed her deeper into the saggy mattress until she was nearly cocooned. Helpless to push him away, she lay there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling while hot tears poured over her cheeks. It was funny how clear certain things become when you’re about to die. Her mind fixated on the creature that would kill her. She felt the hot softness of his tongue as he used it to coax her blood into his mouth. Every few seconds, she felt his lips press more tightly as he swallowed. She’d thought it would hurt, but it didn’t really. The hypnotic motion of his tongue stirred something deep inside. Her belly coiled in on itself as an ache throbbed between her legs. His fingers were firm on her shoulder, but she wanted him to touch her in other places. Secret places he had no right to know. Places he’d already been. Her hips curled upward seeking more shame. She was going to die. Now she was surely going to Hell as her soul must be damned to have lust for this monster taking her life.
What has he done to me?
Seth drank carefully. He couldn’t afford to damage her. She had to be unscarred for the final buyer. The tiny puncture wounds would be healed easily. Any larger wounds would be a problem. So even though he was so pissed he wanted to rip her throat open and shower in her blood, he took his time enjoying the rich sweetness flowing down his throat. Her body was lush, young, sweet. He’d sample more than her throat before this night was over. There were many veins to tap. Next he’d drink from her breast. Then after giving her a rest, he’d press his mouth to the thick artery in her groin, but for now he needed to stay in control and not give in to his nature. Carefully toying with the artery, he was able to keep the flow slow enough to keep her alive, but fast enough to satisfy his hunger.
His fingers were numb from gripping her shoulders when she’d finally stopped struggling. Good. She’d given up on the fight. Things would be easier now. More pleasurable for them both.
Leaning back, he reached for his athame. Bringing the flat side of the blade to the punctures, he murmured, “vi diate,” and the holes were sealed.
Her eyes were closed now. Her breathing should be slow, shallow, from blood loss and fear. He studied her more carefully and smiled with real pleasure. Her lips parted as she panted softly. Her hips lifted to rub against his thighs. The uptight little Christian was aroused. Well, now. This was a nice surprise.
The sun rose as it always had—in the east. Why she thought it would be different today, she didn’t know. With her face pressed against the passenger side window, she stared with unseeing eyes, missing the scenery as it blurred by. They were on the way to meet one last buyer. This one was in Washington D.C. It was the capital of the United States. Was this man a politician? Someone important? Rich? Perhaps she could plea for asylum. She had heard the United States offered this. What it was, exactly, she didn’t know. But if the man was a politician, maybe he would save her. Or maybe not. In her country, politicians were not elected for their honor but for their military followers. She had not heard of any who really cared about the people. They all wanted to taste absolute power. Was it the same here in America? Perhaps it was. She lost nothing by asking the question, though. She would beg if she had to. She fiddled with the button for the window. The tiny purple bruise on her wrist mocked her. She was ruined. It did not matter what happened to her now. She was going to Hell.
The demon—that was what he was regardless of how he’d made her feel last night—cast his eyes in her direction as he pulled the car into yet another hotel parking lot. He’d explained this was only a few miles from the big white house where the president lived. Perking up, she peered through the window. Could she run to this place? There would be police there. Would these police help her or were they corrupt? She searched in all directions, but the only thing she saw was more freeways. Perhaps he had lied. Perhaps there was no white house.
“We’re here. Touch up your lipstick so you look pretty for this man.” He waved aside her sullen glance. “Watch your attitude. I’ve heard this one’s rich and mean. You may want to keep on his good side.”
“For what? I am as good as dead no matter what I do, right? At least let me keep my dignity.”
He leaned across the console and smiled. “Too late for that.”
Seth ignored the girl while he scrolled through his messages for the name of the next bidder. Senator William P. Scott was registered under the name James Brassard in room 319. The room sat on the back side of the hotel. The building was situated near a cluster of chain restaurants, a strip mall, and two gas stations. Not quite D.C., it was close enough to have the high taxes, heavy traffic, and occasional terrorist alerts. Seth didn’t give a shit about any of those things. He didn’t pay taxes. He didn’t have to drive. And he was sometimes the chief planner of the terrorist attacks. What he did mind about this area was the obsessive use of security cameras. He preferred to keep a low profile. It was best for business. As he closed the car door, he studied the cameras located at the entrances. Turning his face away, he caught the girl by the elbow and towed her inside. This was the last stop before the auction tomorrow. If they made good time, they’d make it to the house in the Catskills early enough to relax before the camera crew showed up.