A Devil Named Desire (18 page)

She nodded, heart sinking.

“I can always use smart people,” he said, picking up a pen and toying with it. “Particularly if they know how to cover their tracks, capische?”

She didn’t “capische,” and had no intention of being used. “I do Web site design,” she told him. “I’ll leave you my card.”

Tony gave a short bark of laughter, flicking his eyes toward Gabe. “Bet she’s a handful, man. It’s always the ‘sweet and innocent’ types who give you the most trouble, you know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t,” Gabe answered grimly.

“Your sister was never the sweet and innocent type, now was she?” Tony seemed to enjoy toying with her, and Hope disliked him more with every second that passed. “In and out of foster homes, shoplifting, time in juvie. Lots of boyfriends, real party girl.” He gave her a leer. “It’s one of the things I like about her.”

Hope bit her lip to keep from telling Tony to go fuck himself.

“Is she all right? Why hasn’t she called me?”

Tony shrugged, putting down his pen. “She’s fine. As to why she hasn’t called you, I guess you’ll have to ask her that yourself.”

“When can I see her? Where is she?”

“What’s it worth to you?” All the amusement was gone from his eyes.

“I—” Hope faltered a little. “I don’t have much, but . . .”

“Oh, you got plenty, baby.” The tone of his voice left no doubt of his meaning.

Gabe gripped the arms of his chair, leaning forward, but Hope put a hand on his arm, knowing he was outnumbered at least three to one by guys with guns.

Tony let the tension build, then, to her surprise, burst out laughing. “I’m just fuckin’ with you guys. You’re wound way too tight to be in this business, baby doll.”

Oddly enough, Hope found herself offended, but refused to show it other than a lift of her chin.

“Although,” he said lingeringly, “some guys like the smart ones.”

“Yeah,” Gabe ground out, clearly unamused. “We do.”

Tony gave him a flat stare, perhaps becoming bored with his game of baiting Hope, and willing to go for bigger game.

A short beep sounded, and Tony’s eyes went to the monitors. A slow smile spread across his face.

“I guess today’s your lucky day,” he said.

Hope turned her head, and there, walking into the bar, was her sister, Charity, wearing high heels, short shorts, and a fake fur jacket. Hope watched in the monitor as she smiled and waved at the bartender, clearly at home, and started walking toward the office with a sway in her hips and a smile on her lips.

Shockingly, the relief Hope thought she’d feel at seeing her sister again was transformed into nothing more than an urge to slap her silly. Unconsciously digging her nails into Gabe’s arm, she found she couldn’t wait to do just that.

Chapter Eighteen

D
own Sammy dived, deeper and deeper into murky grayness that went on and on and on. There was life of a sort in the Sea of Sorrows, ghostly creatures with blind, unseeing eyes, drifting to and fro without purpose on unseen currents. He ignored them, forced to use his body instead of his mind, for the depths of these waters were unknown, leaving him no focal point for transport. His immortality left him no need to breathe, no worries of being crushed by the weight of the water, but his movements seemed torturously slow. What kept him going was the image of a blond-haired child, dragged to his doom by Galene the Nereid, and the knowledge that he—and he alone—had failed to keep him safe.

Cain wouldn’t die alone in these murky depths, for by all that was unholy, Galene was going to die, too, or his name was not Samael the Black, Ruler of the Abyss.

Far below, a flicker of movement caught his eye, and there she was, taunting him with the languid wave of her tentacles and an upward, sloe-eyed look. She bore a lantern, glowing green with phosphorescence, and as he watched she turned, swimming even deeper into the depths, leaving him a clear trail to follow.

Follow he did, though he knew she lured him into a trap, for traps could not contain him, and his fury knew no bounds.

Staying well out of his reach, lantern bobbing as she swam, Galene led him to a crevasse, deep within the Sea of Sorrows, and slipped within it.

Fearlessly he followed, using the ancient stone on either side of the crevasse to propel himself along, making better time that way. Soon, her light disappeared, leaving him in inky blackness, but a few feet farther the crevasse angled up, and he saw yet another, stronger, gleam above him. A few feet after that, Sammy’s head broke the surface of the water, and he found himself in an underground cavern, filled with ghostly, greenish light.

“Father!” Cain’s voice echoed throughout the cavern, filling him with an exultation so fierce he could scarce contain it. His son still lived, and for that he would merely kill Galene with a quick snap of her neck, instead of rending her limb from eight-legged limb while she still lived, as he’d planned.

It was not to be so easy, however, for as Sammy pulled himself from the water, he saw that Cain was lashed to a large rock by chains, and beside him lay the monstrous, scaly head of the Leviathan, its reptilian eyes wide and unblinking. The creature had clearly been roused from its long, legendary sleep. Its body, long and thick, was mostly hidden in shadow, for the cavern was vast, but all around it lay piles of treasure: caskets overflowing with coins, jeweled cups, strands of pearls, and fantastic jewelry gleaming with gems, everything glowing greenish silver in the eerie phosphorescent light. On a rock to one side of the cavern sat Galene, surrounded by five other Nereids, their onyx eyes shining, inky tresses trailing over their bare breasts. Their many-legged lower halves seemed unable to stay still, coiling and twisting over the stones upon which they perched.

Slowly, very slowly, the Leviathan stirred, the ripple of its scales like the hiss of waves against the sand.

“Welcome,” it said, in a deep voice that Sammy heard only within his mind. “I am honored.”

With uncharacteristic caution, Sammy debated how best to answer. The creature was ancient, and he had no power over it. For eons, it had been content to stay quiescent in its slumbers below the Earth, and he had been content to let it remain that way.

“I’ve come for my son,” he told it, deciding on the direct approach.

“Of course you did,” said the Leviathan, with a slow blink. “That is why I took him.”

Sammy’s eyes went to Cain, chained to the rock. The boy was wet, and clearly frightened, but appeared unharmed. “What is it you want?” he asked.

“Be at peace, O Lucifer, Son of Morning. I have no quarrel with you,” returned the Leviathan, keeping its slitted yellow eyes on his. “I wish merely to talk.”

“There are better ways to get my attention.” Sammy’s anger, still close to the surface, made him add grimly, “Your methods leave much to be desired.”

“Would you have come otherwise?”

Behind those yellow eyes, surrounded by scales, lurked an intelligence that Sammy decided best not to underestimate.

“No,” he answered honestly, “for you appear a formidable foe. I’ve had no reason to disturb your sleep, nor any desire for your treasures. I want only my son.”

“And you shall have him,” returned the Leviathan, “as soon as I get what I want in return.”

“Which is?”

The Leviathan raised its massive head as Sammy tensed, shooting another glance toward Cain, who appeared tiny and helpless in comparison.

“I want the Lightbringer,” said the Leviathan. “The one known as Gabriel.”

Inwardly he froze, though he schooled his face to betray nothing. “I have no control over Gabriel—he is both my equal, and my opposite. We are evenly matched, the Lightbringer and I.”

“Not so,” said the Leviathan silkily. “You have brought him low, and would bring him lower still, for I have seen it in my dreams. Strike now, while he is weak, and bring him to me. Only then will I let the child go free.”

Rage, impotent and burning, rose like a wall in Samael’s mind. He forced it down, tamping it back with reason and control.

“What do you want with Gabriel?”

“He holds the key to the magic which binds me here, beneath the deep. I would see the sun again, feel the wind upon my face. The cry of the gulls has long been lost to me, and though my friends the Nereids keep me company, their songs merely lull me into slumber, when it is wakefulness I seek.”

Sammy shot a hostile glance toward the Nereids, Galene in particular. Cocking her blue-green head, she gave him a small smile that he couldn’t read. She knew herself safe here, or she would never have dared to taunt him so.

“There is one more condition, O Son of Morning.” The Leviathan gave a slow blink. “The Lightbringer must come willingly.”

“What you ask is impossible,” Sammy snapped. “Why would Gabriel do such a thing?”

“No greater love than this, that a man lay down his life for his brother. How much love does Gabriel, Servant of Truth, bear you?”

“None, now,” was his brutally honest answer, for surely he’d killed any remnant of brotherly love when he’d tricked Gabriel into losing his wings.

“Then your son will die.”

Unable to help himself, Samael looked again toward Cain, bound with chains and totally, utterly dependent upon him. To the boy’s credit, he said nothing, merely waiting for his fate to be decided. Pale with fear, blond curls dripping, he raised his chin and looked his father in the eye.

In that look, Sammy saw complete faith, and complete trust, and in that moment, he was so painfully proud of his child that he thought his heart would burst.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Within him were the first stirrings of defeat, for he could not—would not—betray the trust in those nine-year-old eyes. “How do I know you’ll let him go once I’ve done as you asked?”

The Leviathan stirred again, a mere whisper of scales against rock. “I am not like you, O Prince of Darkness, for when I give my word, I keep it.” The monstrous creature lowered its head, its huge yellow eyes giving a slow blink. “The child will be safe here, until you come again. Whether you come empty-handed or not is up to you. Go now, and do as I ask.”

“Cain . . .” Sammy murmured his son’s name one final time, whether in blessing or apology, he knew not.

“I’ll be all right, Father.” The boy’s chin quivered, then firmed. “I’ll wait for you.”

Swallowing his pride along with his rage, he ignored the watching eyes of the Nereids and the hulking presence of the Leviathan to say, “I’ll be back for you, my son, I promise.”

“I know,” Cain returned simply.

He turned to go, but stopped short as Cain asked, “Father?”

“Yes?” His heart, so long dormant, was near to breaking.

“Tesla . . . is he . . .”

With a grim smile at his son’s concern for his friend, even at such a critical time, he answered. “Tesla is fine. No need to worry about him.”

Cain swallowed and gave a short nod, apparently no longer trusting himself to speak.

Behind him, Galene began to sing a song about love and hate being two sides of the same coin—a song that Sammy had no desire to hear. She was joined by her sisters, their voices rising and blending in strange harmonies within the vastness of the cavern.

He watched as the Leviathan blinked again, his giant lids drooping as he listened.

It was to this eerie soundtrack that Sammy turned and dived back into the water, beginning his long, long swim to the surface.

When he reached it, he waded ashore in the cove to see that Nyx awaited him, a hulking black shadow pacing anxiously along the shoreline, arms crossed. Tesla was there as well, huddled in a miserable heap on the sand. When the imp saw that Sammy was alone, he covered his ugly face with long-fingered hands, and set up a wail of grief that carried far out to sea.

“Silence,” snapped Nyx, and kicked the imp to emphasize his point.

Tesla scuttled away from him like a crab, but continued his wailing. A few feet away he stopped, rocking to and fro in his sorrow.

“Master,” said Nyx anxiously, as Sammy left the water. “What happened? Where is our Prince?”

Scrubbing the water from his face and hair, Sammy said tiredly, “He’s alive. The Leviathan has him.”

The imp’s wailing stopped, subsiding into whimpers. Nyx’s eyes flared red with rage, his hands curling into fists. “How do we get him back?”

Tesla, clearly unable to be still, wrung his hands and moaned softly as he listened for his master’s reply.

Sammy shook his head, speaking his thoughts aloud. “At the moment, I’m not sure.”

“But Your Majesty . . .” Nyx looked him askance, clearly baffled at his master’s indecision. “What should we do?”

Wearier than he’d ever felt in his long, long life, Sammy didn’t answer. He stared out over the cold, gray ocean, remembering his son’s courage, and the look of utter faith in his blue eyes.

Behind him, Tesla sniffled. Turning to the imp, uncaring of Nyx’s opinion of his actions, he reached out a hand.

“Come, Tesla. Let’s go home.”

Chapter Nineteen

“H
ey, babe, how’s it—”

Charity, looking every inch a Vegas stripper in her high heels and short shorts, froze with her hand on the door handle when she saw Hope sitting in Tony’s office.

Hope, not trusting herself to speak, felt her face crumple. Her eyes filled with tears.

Charity’s did, too, and as Hope rose from her seat, shaking, she threw herself into her sister’s arms.

“Hope,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Oh, Hope, I’m so sorry.”

Unable to sustain the anger she’d felt when she’d seen Charity in the monitor, waltzing in like she owned the place, Hope hugged her tight, burying her face in her sister’s hair. Charity felt thin, too thin, and all she could do was hold on and cry. The next few moments were a wild mixture of relief, gladness, frustration, and confusion, punctuated by “sorrys” from Charity and sobs on both their parts.

“Hope and Charity,” Tony said sourly, “ain’t that sweet. What’s the matter, ain’t you got no Faith?” He chuckled at his own joke, while Charity stiffened.

Hope, feeling her sister’s sudden tension, reluctantly loosened her hold enough to look Charity in the face. It was the face she remembered, but different somehow, older, yet still so beautiful. “Where’ve you been all this time? What’s going on?”

Charity, fresh tears welling, bit her lip. Her eye makeup, of which there was far too much, had gotten smeared, her lipstick smudged.

“Enough with the waterworks,” Tony ordered, “me and Galahad here are gonna need our own Kleenex in a minute.”

“Gabriel.” The sound of Gabe’s voice, calm and even, reminded Hope to take a deep breath. “The name is Gabriel.”

“Whatever,” said Tony, making it clear the malapropism was deliberate.

Charity slanted her eyes toward Gabe, giving him a quick look, and used the interruption to swipe at her cheeks, pulling away from Hope.

“Sorry, babe,” she said to Tony, not yet looking at him. “I’m just, y’know . . . surprised and all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony was obviously getting bored with the show. “You and your guests take this outside to the bar; I got work to do. Go have Larry pour the three of you a drink, do some catching up.”

Charity nodded, still not looking at him, and Hope realized it was because she didn’t want Tony to see her face all tear-stained. That, along with his wise-guy attitude and lack of empathy over their reunion, told her pretty much everything she needed to know.

“Thanks, hon,” Charity told him. “We’ll do that.”

Gabriel didn’t waste any time, holding the door open and motioning for the two women to precede him into the hall.

With the sound of horrible eighties music reverberating in her ears, Hope followed Charity back into the bar area.

She led them to a table in the corner, digging in her silver sequined purse as she walked, her heels so high it almost appeared as though she were tiptoeing. Her hand came out clutching a small pack of tissues, one of which she offered to Hope.

Gabriel, being a gentleman, waited until both sisters were seated before taking his own seat.

Charity glanced at him curiously, but gave her attention to Hope. In between swipes and sniffles, she said again, “I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to see me this way.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Hope urged, doing her own swiping and sniffling. “What are you
doing
here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Hope said grimly, determined to get an explanation.

Charity shook her head, glancing toward the bar. The bartender was eyeing them curiously, as were Tony’s two goons. “This isn’t the best place to talk about it, Hope.”

“Then let’s go someplace else.”

Charity started digging in her purse again, this time to pull out a small mirror. “I can’t,” she said, keeping her voice low. Using it to see the damage to her face, she started dabbing at a smear of eye makeup on her temple. “I have to work tonight.”

“Work?” Hope found herself getting angry again. “You’ve been gone for two years!” She reached out and grabbed her sister by the wrist, forcing her to stop fixing her makeup. “I thought you were dead, Charity!”

Charity wouldn’t look at her, just stared at herself in the mirror. “It was better that way,” she said hollowly.

“Better for
who
?”

All those nights, worrying . . . all that guilt, smothering her until she’d done the unthinkable . . .

“You don’t understand.” Charity pulled her wrist away.

“You’re right, I don’t!”

“Hope.” Gabriel’s hand reached out to take hers. “Give her a chance to explain.”

Charity shot him a grateful look. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” she told him, “but I’m glad my sister finally met a nice guy.”

“She’s been worried sick over you,” Gabe said. “Come with us to the hotel, where you two can talk in private.”

Hope appreciated Gabriel’s support more than he knew, and squeezed his hand.

Charity appeared extremely uncomfortable. “I can’t,” she repeated.

“Just tell me what’s going on, Charity.” Hope leaned in, keeping her voice down, though she doubted the three men over the bar could hear them over the strains of “Imaginary Lover.” “I’ve been looking for you for two years, ever since you disappeared. Why didn’t you call me? Why haven’t you come home?”

Just then, the door to Tony’s office slammed, and the man himself came strolling into the bar area. He glanced at Hope and Charity, adjusting his suit jacket, though it needed no adjusting, and went over to his men at the bar.

Charity, who’d been leaning in to talk to Hope, straightened and took one quick look at herself in the mirror again before tucking it away.

“Home?” she asked loudly, arching a brow. “You call that cracker box little apartment of yours
home
? I had to sleep on a pull-out couch.”

Bewildered by the sudden change in attitude, Hope blinked. “We were going to get a bigger place, remember?”

Charity shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. I’ve got my own place now.”

Gabriel leaned back in his seat, eyeing Charity narrowly.

“So you just ran off on purpose and let me think you were dead?”

“I didn’t want to listen to your nagging,” Charity said. “Just like I don’t want to listen to it now.”

Dumbfounded, Hope literally felt her jaw drop.

Gabe squeezed her hand again, and she looked to him in disbelief, seeking some vague reassurance that she hadn’t heard what she just thought she had.

To her surprise, Gabe skewed his eyes quickly toward the bar, and said nothing. It was then that she realized what was going on; Charity’s words were for Tony’s benefit.

“I’m sorry if you don’t approve of my lifestyle,” Charity said loudly, “but not everyone is a dried-up stick-in-the-mud like you.” She gestured negligently toward Gabriel. “You and your boyfriend need to get the hell out of here.”

Unlike everything Charity had said in the last few moments, it was clear that she meant the last part. Deep in her sister’s eyes was a look of pleading.

The door to the bar opened, admitting light into the dimness.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed grimly, surprising her. “We need to get out of here.”

She looked at him again to see that he was staring toward the door, and the men who had just entered. There were two of them, dark figures silhouetted by the daylight.

Gabe stood up, moving fast, but the men moved faster still. They rushed him, ignoring everyone and everything else in the room, including Tony’s shouted “Hey!”

In one smooth motion, Gabe picked up a chair and swung it at the two strangers. It broke like kindling over the first man’s arm, doing nothing to deflect him. He just batted it away and kept coming, grabbing for Gabe’s throat. To Hope’s horror, she saw that his eyes gleamed red, as did the second man’s, who was right behind him.

“Hey!” Tony shouted again, “take it outside!”

Pandemonium ensued, during which Hope grabbed Charity by the wrist and dragged her away from the three men who were now grappling on the floor. It didn’t look like Gabe stood a chance against them, and Hope was almost relieved when Tony’s two goons jumped into the fray. One of the strangers—a demon, Hope now realized—turned on the interlopers, snarling, and sank his teeth into an arm. Hope saw his teeth, razor-sharp and inhuman, and heard the crunch of bone a split second before she heard the man’s cry of agony.

More dark figures swarmed through the open door, some of them heading toward the knot of men on the floor, others heading toward Tony and Larry at the bar.

Charity was screaming, but Hope was silent in her shock, dragging her sister as far away from the fighting as she could while doing her best to keep an eye on Gabriel, who fought like a demon himself. The wall was at their backs, so she dragged Charity down on the other side of the stage and crouched there with her, an arm around her shoulders.

There was a gunshot, more shouting, the crash of furniture and the snarls of the demons as they made short work of Tony’s men. Blood splattered, and bone crunched, and through it all Gabriel fought grimly for his life while Hope watched, helpless and terrified. From the corner of her eye she saw the bartender go down under the weight of two demons, while Tony stood motionless, hands in the air, as chaos went on around him.

It was all over in just a few moments. A third demon joined the two attacking Gabe, and held him, pinned but still thrashing. Three men, all Tony’s, lay dead on the floor.

Charity had stopped screaming, but Hope could feel her shuddering as they clutched each other. To her relief, it appeared the demons wanted Gabriel alive, for while blood ran down the side of his face, and they were none too gentle with him, they didn’t immediately kill him.

They hadn’t killed Tony, either, who stood like a statue as one of the demons approached.

“You did well to stay out of it, human,” the demon rasped, in a grisly parody of a man’s voice, “for you will live to see another day.” It gave a chuckle, one that chilled Hope’s blood. “Your time will come soon enough, however. When next you see us, I have a feeling you won’t be so lucky.”

Tony blinked rapidly, eyes huge in his face. He didn’t look quite the tough guy anymore, Hope noted. Whatever skin these demons were in, they were still demons, and he obviously knew it.

“A trade,” he blurted, keeping his hands in the air. “I offer the master a trade.” Tony jerked his head toward where she and Charity crouched, afraid to move. “Take the girl . . . hell, take both of them.”

Charity gasped, but Hope said nothing, her attention focused on Gabriel, who struggled uselessly against the inhuman creatures in human bodies who held him pinned to the floor.

“We do not make deals on the master’s behalf,” the head demon rasped. “If you wish to make a trade, you must offer the girl yourself, on the altar.” It turned its head to look at Hope and Charity, eyes flaring red in the dimness. “Whether or not the Dark Master takes your offering is up to him.”

W
herever they were, it was pitch black. Hope could hear Charity’s breathing, rapid and shallow, and squeezed her hand. After Tony had expressed his willingness to slit their throats if it meant saving his own, they’d been taken by the demons who looked like men and dragged, kicking and screaming, out into the sunshine, then thrust into the trunk of a car. Despite the broad daylight, no one had seen them being abducted, or if they had, no one had cared.

She’d had to leave Gabriel behind, and Hope was worried sick about him. He’d fought like a mad thing as they were taken, and the last she’d seen of him, he’d been bleeding profusely, shouting her name. They’d driven for what seemed like hours, and by the time they’d been released from the trunk into the extremely dubious care of yet another guy with a gun, it had been full dark. The guy hadn’t said a word to them, and she had no idea if he was human or not. He’d merely motioned them with his gun into a darkened building in the middle of nowhere, thrust them into a room, and locked the door behind them.

“Hope,” Charity whispered. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to have gotten you into this mess.”

Hope let go of her sister’s hand to wrap an arm around her too-thin shoulders. “I got myself into it, Char.” If she had any tears left, she would’ve shed them, but she was saving them all for Gabriel. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“This is my fault, all of it,” Charity insisted stubbornly. “I should’ve listened to you, and never come to Vegas. I can’t believe I was so
stupid
.”

Talking took her mind off Gabe, and what those inhuman monsters might be doing to him. “What happened, Charity? What are you doing with a creep like Tony?”

Her sister leaned against her in the dark, reminding her of the times when they were both small, and one of them had had a nightmare. This time, it was a joint nightmare, and neither one of them was going to wake up to cartoons and cereal.

“I met him in the casino,” Charity said softly, “playing blackjack. I’d lost all my chips and was about to leave the table when he asked me to stick around, be his good luck charm. He was winning, and I”—she gave a soft huff of disgust—“I was actually flattered by his attention. One drink led to another, and eventually . . .” Her hair brushed Hope’s nose as she shook her head. “I don’t have any memory of how I got there, but the next day I woke up in a place a lot like this.”