Samael (20 page)

The play had just begun, with a slight nod from Sam to the director who waited at the edge of the curtain, when Sam’s senses kicked into overdrive. His ears pricked. His skin began to over-sensitize, his nerve endings sizzling to life. He became hyper-alert, and ultra-wary, and for the first time ever, he was unable to sit back and enjoy one of his favorite scripts, which he’d very much been looking forward to sharing with Angel.

Something was wrong.

They can’t find us here
, he attempted to reassure himself. He’d rid them both of their powers, effectively cutting off their traceable signatures. He’d greased a lot of capable palms pretty much across the globe in the name of their safety. The two of them were virtually surrounded by an army of bodyguards disguised as something else. And yet, he was in full code red.

No doubt, the
Four Favored
and their good for nothing Guardian were scratching their chins over the Adarian business and the fact that they’d become heart-gobbling monsters straight from the abyssal imaginations of Hollywood. But Samael was fully aware of Gregori’s motives. The more the world looked as if it were coming to an end – and what screamed “apocalypse” like zombies? – the more the archangels were going to want to stop it from happening. And if Gregori assured the archangels that the only way for the end of the world to fully come about was for Sam to mate with his archess, then surely, they would join him in attempting to stop it.

Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew the rumors. Hell, he ate rumors for breakfast. He knew Gregori had approached Azrael in San Francisco and warned him to stop Samael. Yes, Sam had people there too. In the fog. In the wind.

Sam also knew, now, what had happened to Jason. Gregori had killed the incubi and re-animated him prior to setting him upon Sophie Bryce like some sort of well-trained attack dog.

And at this point, Sam was up to speed. And everything pointed to Gregori and his general plan to deny Samael the one thing he wanted. All so that the Culmination wouldn’t come about. Because Gregori had a vendetta against the Old Man – and apparently the Old Man was here on Earth.

Now…
that
was interesting. Samael’s teeth ground together as he pondered the implications. The possibility that the very same man who’d cast them all down here thousands of years ago had actually resided amongst them all this time was mind boggling. It was also infuriating.

Gregori was not the only one who had a bone to pick with the Old Man.

But could it even be true?

Sam glanced at Angel, taking in her profile, the curve of her chin and neck, and the corner of her beautiful smile. She’d worked her whole existence fighting the evil on the planet. With no help from anyone. And sometimes she failed. Sometimes the evil was too strong, and she went home with a job half-done, and it destroyed her. He knew.

Oh, he knew.

Sam had often wondered about the lack of any kind of communication any of them had experienced from the Old Man all this time. He’d never once appeared to any of them. He’d never interfered on any of their behalves, much less the mortals he’d left down here to rot. For all intents and purposes, he may as well not exist.

But… if he’d been
here
instead of
there
, then that would explain a few things. Maybe here on Earth, he was altered somehow? Maybe he was
incapable
of helping? Maybe… maybe he was even injured! Now
there
was a thought!

One to give anyone good dreams. The son of a bitch.

At once, Sam’s recollection of the Old Man turned to bitterness. There was no avoiding the memories of betrayal. The loyalty he’d shown, the devotion. Only to be replaced at a moment’s notice because he, like Lilith, had thought to speak up about something. And Michael, the
perfect
, had
not
. Michael the most favored. Michael the kiss-ass.

Sam felt his teeth begin to throb, and he realized several things at once. First, he realized that if Michael and his archangel posse did decide to take Sam on to prevent him from being with Angel, Sam would relish the fight. Bring it.

The second thing he realized was that his teeth would not throb the way they were throbbing if he weren’t suddenly mortal. And
that
reminder was grounding. Not that he wouldn’t give the Warrior Archangel a run for his money, but in the end, Sam would probably lose. Michael was a paladin archangel with a chip on his shoulder and more power than a little boy knew what to do with.

Sam was only a man.

The final thing he realized in that moment was that the air in the play house had grown so heavy, people were beginning to notice it. It wasn’t a humidity kind of thick. It was thick with something else – a foreboding. A
darkness
.

Up on the stage, the actor and actress continued expertly with their lines; they were professionals, consummate and wonderful, and that was why he’d chosen them for his play house. However, out in the audience, people were exchanging glances. At the entry way, Charles was speaking with security. Small signs of trouble moved like ripples through the area.

As he’d surmised earlier, something was indeed wrong.

He held up his hand – one finger, just slightly. Up on stage, the play stopped at once. Two men approached their table, flanking it and awaiting instructions.

Angel was at once alarmed.

Sam stood, rounding the table. When she looked up at him, her brows were raised, and her eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Angel, please come with me. We need to leave immediately.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have worn heels!
Angel quickly stood up and joined Sam in front of the table. She’d lived long enough and been through enough shit in her time to know better than to look around like an idiot when someone yelled
duck
. When someone told you to duck, you hit the ground. Shit was about to fly, and Angel could tell.

She’d noticed the air growing heavy with darkness a few minutes ago, but she’d figured it was just her nerves, or maybe even someone in the audience of the play house. After all, Sam owned it, and there was no telling what kinds of connections he had.

But the tension in the play house increased, and her instincts kicked in. Something wasn’t right, and from the look on Sam’s face right now, and the way the play house was emptying out, she’d been spot on.

The patrons managed to maintain a fairly orderly escape, as if they’d been prepared for something like this all along. They hurried quietly, filing out in two separate lines. One headed to the cave opening on the left with the beach, and the other to the right with the dense forest.

Sam had grabbed Angel’s hand and was leading her down another hallway in the opposite direction, but she managed to glance over her shoulder in time to watch as people stepped
through
the barriers she’d known had been there, and into the worlds beyond.

Angel squeaked when she tripped a little in her heels. Then she let out a low curse when Sam immediately stopped, and she went barreling into him. He steadied her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but held up her finger and bent over, ripping the heels off her feet to toss them to the side. Once she was barefoot, she straightened again. “I’m good.”

Sam took her elbow again and guided her very quickly through the hallway. One of the men who’d approached their table earlier was in front of them, and the other followed behind. She guessed they were bodyguards of some type; both men were very large, but it was the magic moving through them that stood out to Angel. She wondered how mortals could perpetually miss something like that in a person, because she was mortal at the moment, and she could definitely sense it.

The hallway was the same one she’d gone down to find the restroom. But it was changing now as they hastened through it. The windows were fogging up as if the humidity in the cave was rising rapidly and drastically. It wasn’t humidity, though; she would have felt that on her skin and seen it in curls around her face. It was
magic
making them fog.

The stalactites wrapped in their tiny lights that were so plentiful before were becoming scarce, and the bathroom door was gone. The walls were smoothing out, becoming featureless.

She and the others seemed to run for full minutes, the cave changing around them. Eventually, it was a man-made hall, square and perfect. Angel was just getting winded when they finally reached the end of the hall. It bore a single door.

The man in front of them placed his hand on the door knob and signaled for Sam and Angel to step back. Sam pulled Angel back several feet and stood in front of her. The bodyguard whispered words Angel didn’t recognize – a magic spell. The doorknob lit up with spinning runes, and those runes spread out and began to speed through the door as if a spell were literally writing itself across the metal surface.

But the runes grew redder and redder, and Angel could feel their heat. The man let go of the knob and spun to face them. “Get down!” Sam turned, taking Angel to the ground, covering her body with his. She felt an extra weight squeeze down upon her as well and knew the other two men were shielding them both.

A humming sound rose, lasted around half a second or so, and then there was a blast. It was nothing like thunder, which crashed right through the atmosphere with a spear-like sound that announced itself all at once and sizzled through the brain. This was a rapidly building popping sound that made her head feel fat for an instant, right before it exploded outward and hurt so bad that she knew she was screaming and couldn’t hear it over the roar of fire and debris.

The weight atop them became heavier. With a budding sense of doom, Angel realized why. The men who’d shielded them were unconscious. Probably dead.

But there was smoke everywhere now, and even under several layers of people, she was inhaling it. It burned her lungs and stung her eyes. She tried to move, but just as she was beginning to panic due to the pressing weights on her, Sam moved above her, shoving off the bodyguards to get to his feet. He grabbed her arms and lifted her alongside him, and Angel found her footing in a world of blaze and ash.

Sam spared the slightest glance to the fallen men, and Angel saw something there in the depths of his gaze. But then it was gone, shoved into the background of a world of chaos and misery.

She coughed when she tried to inhale.

Whatever had been behind the door was now in the hall, and it was burning like mad. “We have to get out of here!” she cried, then coughed again because the last word got stuck in her throat behind a building grime.

Sam didn’t respond. He’d already been pulling a transport orb from his pocket; she’d forgotten they were there. Now, he palmed it tightly with one hand and yanked Angel closer with the other, wrapping his arm around her waist so hard, she could barely breathe. But that was okay; she couldn’t breathe anyway.

A moment later, the smoke and fire blurred into smears of red and gray, the heat began to ebb, and the world spun. They were in a transport tunnel.

Angel closed her eyes and hugged Sam back. Whether it was self preservation or something else, she had neither the time nor the desire to ponder. The tunnel came to an end nearly as quickly as it had spun to life, and Angel felt carpet under her feet.

She opened her eyes as Sam stepped slightly back, loosening his grip on her enough that she could regain her balance. Once he knew she was fine, he let her go completely and pulled away.

Angel stood in the center of a hotel room with a double queen bed, television, and an opening on the other end that no doubt led to a bathroom. It was a standard room, not a suite, and nothing too fancy, but not exactly low-end either. It was just a basic hotel room.

“Where are we?”

“This room is one of several I’ve had shielded over the years. We’re in Boston at the moment, but we won’t be staying long. We’re just going to get you changed and then we’re moving on.”

Angel blinked. She looked down, only now remembering that she was in a gorgeous satin red dress and wasn’t wearing any shoes. The dress was now ruined, fraught with miniature tears and smoke stains.

She nodded. “Right.” Then she frowned. How was she supposed to change? This wasn’t her place. She had no clothes here, and no powers with which to summon them.

Sam moved to a large ornate piece of wooden furniture against one wall. “This armoire will supply any clothing you need. Simply imagine what you want, then open it.”

Now that she looked at it closely, it was obvious the armoire was not a normal part of the décor in the room. “I’ve heard of something like this,” she said as she moved toward it. “But it was a small box that supplied food.”

“The Hollow Box.” He nodded. “It so happens the armoire was made by the same genius. I believe he also has a hat box, a gym bag, and most impressively, a garage.”

She gaped at him. “You mean you can imagine whatever car you want –”

“That’s the idea.” He smiled.

She pondered that for a moment, suddenly imagining Sam speeding along in some sexy muscle car. Or on a
motorcycle
.

She’d actually seen him on a bike once. Just once.

Her mouth watered, and her knees at felt weak.
There
was a picture she’d never be able to get out of her head. It was a candid shot taken of him while he was out riding his own Harley Davidson Fat Boy. Until then, the media had only ever seen him in suits. But in the photo, which had been caught by someone with a camera phone, he’d been in jeans, a black T-shirt, and a rugged pair of riding boots. His hair was messy. He was suddenly the very portrait of a laid back billionaire with a body like Superman’s and a mind like Lex Luthor’s.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet. Of course, the world had viewed him as a gorgeous fool; men all over added a note of dangerous recklessness to their lists of things to be jealous of him about, and women everywhere began drooling buckets. But Angel had known a helmet was simply pointless.