Marked - Eve Of Destruction Part 13

"I'm not coy, d.a.m.n you. I'm scared."

He knew that much was true; he smelled the fear on her. "Tell me why."

"Tell me you're not going after Charles Grimshaw."

Alec smiled. "I'm not telling you s.h.i.+t. The sharing between us only works one way."

"That's not fair!"

With a quick glance at the rearview mirror to check for traffic, he eased diagonally across the second lane and pulled to a stop on the shoulder. "If you don't like the rules, get out."

Her features altered into the enraged mask of her Infernal soul. "You're a d.i.c.k."

"You're right."

"You need me."

"You wish."

She crossed her arms. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Cars and trucks roared by, shaking the Mustang on its wheels and stirring exhaust in the slightly chill air.

"Make me care," he challenged. "Tell me why I should."

"Do you want to die?"

"Not gonna happen. I've known Charles for years."

"No one knows the Alpha, not really."

"Don't talk in riddles."

Her too-slender fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shorts.

"Okay." He backtracked. "What does Charles have to do with you?"

Mares and wolves weren't known to a.s.sociate. They were too different; one a physical aggressor, the other a mental marauder.

Giselle chewed her lower lip, her eyes darting over their surroundings, running in the only way she could- mentally. Alec was more than alert now. There was no doubt she wanted to reveal only the amount necessary to stem his questions.

"I don't have time for this," he snapped.

"If I tell you everything here," she whined, "what leverage do I have to get you to take me back to Anaheim?"

"You have no leverage. I need your blood, that's it. Obviously, I don't need you alive to get it."

"I'm running from Charles," Giselle blurted. "I need to get away from his territory, not drive into it."

"Does he have anything to do with what happened last night?"

"Start driving south and I'll tell you."

Alec's mouth curved. "Nothing you can say will get me to turn around. I have business to attend to and until it's done, everything else takes a backseat."

She looked prepared to argue, then her gaze met his and she knew it was pointless. "If you won't listen to me, will you listen to Neil?"

"Who is Neil?"

"The vamp who staked himself."

He recalled the events of the night before. Servo vestri ex ruina.

"Save myself from ruin?" he scoffed. "I'm getting a tan; Neil's dead. He should have taken his own advice."

"Save yourself from destruction, you idiot. And trust me, if Destruction gets a hold of you, you'll be dead, too."

Alec tossed his arm over the back of her headrest and pushed his shades up with the other hand. He stared at her with cold eyes. "Want to rephrase that?"

She pouted. "Sorry."

"Start from the top."

Giselle groaned and collapsed back into her seat. "Can we talk about this in Anaheim?"

Knowing they would attract the California Highway Patrol if he stayed on the shoulder too long, Alec faced forward and eased the car back into traffic. He pulled off the freeway at the next exit and into the parking lot of a gas station/convenience store. From the sudden gleam in Giselle's eyes, he knew she thought their stop was a good sign, which just showed how different the reasoning was between Infernals and Marks. Alec knew who ran the show in his world. He had been given an order by G.o.d. Ignoring it was not an option. Demons, on the other hand, were all egomaniacs. None of them wanted to admit that Sammael ruled the roost in h.e.l.l. They all preferred to delude themselves with the thought that Sammael's commands were optional and they followed them because it was fun.

"Okay." He slid the manual transmission into first gear, pulled up the emergency brake, and turned off the engine. "What is Destruction?"

Giselle's mouth took on a mulish cast. Her arms crossed.

Alec opened the driver's side door and unfolded from the seat. Rounding the trunk, he reached into the pa.s.senger side and plucked her out. She hadn't worn a seat belt-against California law-and he hadn't cared enough about her well-being to enforce it.

He returned to his side of the car and slid behind the wheel. "See ya."

"You are not leaving me here!" she protested, her lips white. "You need my blood."

"I also need my concentration, and being p.i.s.sed off at you affects that." He reached for the ignition.

"Destruction is Sammael's pet."

Pausing, Alec glanced over at where she stood. "His pet?"

"A h.e.l.lhound, but unlike anything you've ever seen before. It's a hybrid of demon and Cerberus, nephilim and Mark."

His jaw tightened.

Giselle's shoulders slumped and she looked even more gaunt, which he hadn't thought possible. "Sammael has been working on a new breed for centuries. None of them were viable; they all died."

"Except for Destruction."

"Right." She pulled the door open and dropped wearily into the seat.

"Was it the Mark blood that made the difference?"

"Yeah. Mark blood regenerates; it held all the parts together."

Holy s.h.i.+t. They were using Marks to create new demons. "What does Charles have to do with this?"

"Charles was the key. He's the Hound Whisperer. Sammael was able to keep the mutt alive, but he couldn't train it."

"Use a canine to train a canine."

Charles was one of the most powerful Alphas in the world. He ruled his pack with an iron fist. He was also wily enough to stay under the radar, which enabled him to expand his territory with only minor interference from Marks. He might have continued to grow in power, if he hadn't sought revenge for the death of his son by killing Eve in the Qualcomm Stadium bathroom. And now this.

"What does this have to do with you?" he asked.

"Once Sammael saw how successful Charles was in training the beast and how destructive it was, he wanted more of them. The hound is powerful and ravenous." Giselle's eyes turned fever-bright and she began to pant, her body thrumming with excitement. "If there were enough of them, they would wipe you all out. Every single Mark and angel. Every archangel. Even G.o.d. They're unstoppable."

Alec growled low, disgusted by her joy. "Answer the f.u.c.king question. What does this have to do with you?"

The glazed look of pleasure faded from her expression. "Every Infernal from the Oregon border down to Seaside, California, was tasked with feeding the growing pups. They take decades to mature, and they eat. And eat. And eat." She growled. "Why do you think I look like this? You try getting a plate of food and only eating ten percent."

"They're feeding from you?" he asked, incredulous.

"Like I said, ten percent is our share. That's why Neil and the others checked out. Sammael gave strict orders-no leaks of the Lebensborn-2 program. If we're too weak to fight off a Mark attack, we are to take ourselves out of commission before we're captured. I thought Charles would back me up when I argued against that, but I was wrong. He's hot and a great f.u.c.k, but I'm not going back to h.e.l.l for anyone or anything. Especially not for a guy who thinks I am just a disposable piece of a.s.s."

Lebensborn. Alec's fists clenched. Sammael considered the Holocaust his greatest masterpiece, his trial run for Armageddon. That he would revisit the horror, even in name only, made Alec fit to kill. "I've never met an Infernal willing to commit suicide."

"You've never met an Infernal with Destruction on his tail," Giselle retorted. "Charles warned us that if we returned to h.e.l.l as a traitor to the program, Sammael would make us pay. When the choices are to get ripped to shreds by a h.e.l.lhound then tortured by the Prince or to kill yourself and wait in the earthbound queue, suicide is the lesser of the two c.r.a.ppy options."

"You didn't follow through."

"Thanks to you." She smiled. "What are the chances that you would come along? Cain of infamy, the only Mark powerful enough to give me a shot at staying on Earth. It has to be fate."

Alec's gaze lifted heavenward. He never knew at moments such as this whether he was following a divine plan or just monumentally cursed to always step into s.h.i.+t. Perhaps this was all part of an elaborate punishment for his machinations to resurrect Eve. If so, he would consider the price worth it.

"Are the puppies still with Charles?" he asked.

She nodded. "That's why we want to drive in the other direction. They're housed in a kennel dead center of a gated, wolf-only community. You're good, but you aren't that good."

Alec turned the ignition. "Was that a dare?"

Giselle paled. "No! I didn't mean it that way."

He backed out of the parking spot and headed toward the northbound onramp. Brentwood was an hour away. "I've never been one to turn away from a challenge."

Raguel. The archangel needed to be brought up to speed. Then, Alec would grill Giselle to formulate a plan of attack. And when he found a private moment, he would touch base with Eve and make sure she was okay. As long as she was doing fine, he could manage the rest.

"This isn't a challenge, you idiot!" Giselle screeched. "This is a kamikaze mission. We. Are. Going. To. Die."

Alec grinned, then opened the throttle.

CHAPTER 8.

Eve hated horror movies. She didn't believe she had ever watched an entire one. Usually she had her face buried in her hands or she left the room. Her best friend, Janice, refused to sit next to her during slasher flicks and boyfriends quickly learned that it was safest to stick to blow-'em-up action films. She loved to watch stuff explode, but creepy music and waiting for ma.s.s murderers to pop out of closets was too much suspense for her.

Too bad Richens hadn't figured that out yet.

The Mark lagged behind her, as if she would be of any help at all during a surprise attack. He also exacerbated the problem by stage-whispering all manner of provoking statements, like: "Did you see that?,"

"What was that noise?," and "Do you smell anything?"

Thankfully, Edwards held his tongue, bringing up the rear with a silent stride. They were searching through the ground floor of a three-story building that was dressed as an office unit. It was the tallest building in Anytown and perhaps the most inhabited by vermin. Roaches climbed gray walls and rats dashed across the retro-patterned linoleum. A worn mannequin with a broken face staffed the receptionist desk, its dead eyes staring blankly. Eve shuddered and tried not to look at it. Her overactive imagination made her feel as if she was being watched with malicious intent.

Morning light spilled in through the windows, many of which were broken. Shards of gla.s.s s.h.i.+mmered on the dusty floor and crunched beneath their booted feet. Outside, the cries of seagulls filled the air with a mournful cacophony.

"This would have worked better at night," Edwards said gruffly. "We're open targets in the daylight."

"Gadara says fifty percent of hunts are conducted during the day." Richens snorted. "I'll be asleep then."

"You can't sleep through a call." Eve's tone was wry. "The mark burns like h.e.l.l."

"I can sleep through anything."

No point arguing. He'd figure it out soon enough.

"Ow!" he screeched, lurching into her.

She stumbled. Her armband heated to burning, defeating any need to ask him what his problem was. From the outside, Ken whooped a joyful war cry. A smile curved her mouth, and Eve pivoted to face her companions. "Too bad you're not asleep."

Richens glared.

Edwards hissed, "How can you joke at a time like this?" He spun around wildly, his posture hunched and his revolver up.

Eve sniffed the air. "The Infernal isn't near enough to smell. Yet."

"It's around here somewhere."

Richens looked at Eve with wide eyes. "Now what? Is this how it happens in the field?"

She nodded. "Your handler will also communicate with you, either in person or with some kind of telepathy."