Seal of Destiny (15 page)

Kagan stopped short when a noise clanked to his left. A jolt sizzled through him. Argus was close. Kagan smiled. He was going to enjoy making the
bastardo
suffer this time.

The blow struck a millisecond later.

His skull crunched, and his world splintered. A diabolical giggle followed him down to his knees. He landed hard on the concrete, his arms useless to catch his weight. His face collided with pavement and more bones shattered. A single orange eye peered at him from beside the tenement’s entrance. Kagan struggled to speak, but a venomous claw sunk deep in his neck. His last thought was of the trapped woman in the building.
Mira.

• • •

Mira’s shirt was ripped open at the shoulder and cold air swamped her torso. Something slimy and smooth traced her mark before dropping away. Her wrists were freed then bound again to the arms of the chair in which she now sat. Soon her ankles were also secured, and the chance for escape vanished. A groan rife with suffering drifted in from her right. The effects of the venom made focus difficult, but if she narrowed her blurry gaze, she could distinguish the outline of a large blob. Her demon captor passed by and stirred the air, his reeking scent now joined by something more. Something familiar. Vanilla and sandalwood and protection.
Kagan!

Mira struggled to scoot closer, but her chair stayed rooted in place. The demon’s laughter echoed, followed by his snarky drawl. “Aw, ain’t that cute? You missing your boyfriend, bitch?”

Argus grabbed a corner of the cloth gagging her and yanked it free. Her airway cleared and Mira gasped for breath. Head up, she spoke in a croaky voice worthy of a pack-a-day smoker. “You’re a dead man.”

“Bitch, I’ve been dead for eons.” Argus patted her cheek and moved to the counter.

He flipped open the gunmetal interrogation case and eyed the rows of pre-filled syringes like a starving dog in a butcher shop. Almost reverently, he pulled out several and held them up to the light, inspecting their contents before making a final selection. He moved behind her and Mira lost track of him, only to jump as he sliced through the other shoulder of her T-shirt and bared her to the waist with only her bra for cover. His fingers hovered over her breasts, clenching before dropping away. Revulsion cramped her stomach. Cold wetness preceded a sharp prick as an IV needle slid into her vein. Argus turned her chair to face Kagan’s before returning to the counter. Wonderful. She’d have an audience for her final hurrah.

She studied Kagan’s unconscious form, noting the pallid tone lurking beneath the tan of his skin. Her gaze snagged on the blood caking the side of his neck, stretching like an arrow to the rear of his skull. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest assured her he was still alive.

The demon lifted one of the syringes and removed the cap. He jabbed the needle into the port on her IV and pushed the plunger to release the drug into her system. Her hopes for survival plummeted.

Pain built, a surging fire destroying her from the inside out. Her screams reverberated off the cinder-block walls. Argus chose his lairs well. Her pleas for help went unheard, unheeded. The convulsions intensified and Mira’s jaw spasmed. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. White-hot agony seared her mark.
Christ! I don’t want to die!

Mira lost the battle with her stomach and vomited. In between heaves, she registered Argus now hovering beside Kagan. He smacked the unconscious warrior hard across the face, and she flinched. Argus noticed, picking up another syringe and heading in her direction. “Here comes round two, bitch.”

This time when the chemicals struck, her teeth chattered and her blood froze. Goose bumps covered her skin and her core temperature plunged. Mira’s last thoughts were of the wounded man beside her before blissful unconsciousness dragged her under.
Please wake up, Kagan!

• • •

Kagan cracked open an eye. His vision doubled, yet he forced himself to focus on the details. Mira’s horrified screams ripped through the room before she passed out. He tensed. His efforts to undo the knots around his wrists and ankles doubled. He moved slow, avoiding detection while he worked the knots free with his fingers then clutched the ropes in place and maintained his position. He lifted his head to test the extent of his healing, turned slightly to see the IV in his arm. Dizziness overwhelmed him, bile thick in his throat. He took a deep breath, willing the nausea to pass.

He waited until Argus returned to ogling the drug vials before he checked in on his earpiece, murmuring low to avoid detection. “In place.”

The world stopped spinning, and he tapped the shank of his boot against the chair leg, relieved to find his dagger in place. The jolt of Wyck’s bright voice made his stomach lurch anew. “Morning, sunshine. Nice of you to join us.”

Eyes clamped shut while the singsong tone ricocheted in his damaged skull, he vowed Wyck would pay once this mission was complete. He gave his perky Scion brother a less-than-hospitable grunt.

Wyck was unfazed. “Wake up on the wrong side of the torture chair this morning?”

“
Basta!
Tell me we’re ready to end this
cazzo
then shut the hell up!” Kagan growled low, watching Argus pull out another syringe and disappear behind him.

“Fine, Mr. Crankypants.” Wyck chuckled. “Ready when you are.”

He waited until Argus’s rank breath fanned his face, forcing himself to remain still. The demon hovered at his side, inches from his IV port.

“I know you’re awake, Kagan. Not totally functional,
I’d guess, but awake.” Argus snorted. “Don’t worry, my brain-damaged friend. I’ll put you out of your misery soon enough.”

The needle plunged into the port and Kagan struck, knocking Argus sideways before yanking the IV from his arm. He bent to remove the dagger from his boot and stood too fast. Kagan clutched the wall while the world spun out of control.
Merda!

Argus charged and sent them both tumbling, skidding across the carpet into the next room. Kagan’s dagger flew from his hand and clattered away. The demon pulled another syringe from his pocket and plunged it deep into Kagan shoulder.

Kagan grabbed Argus’s wrist before he could push the plunger. He twisted until the bones cracked then followed with a hard punch to the side of the demon’s head. Kagan fumbled for his dagger while Argus stretched to grab the syringe. His vision blurring and pain pulsing behind his eyes, Kagan fought to stay conscious. A loud crash sounded from the doorway.

Argus’s body slumped forward over Kagan’s chest, Chago’s dagger protruding from the side of his portly neck.

Kagan pulled the needle from his shoulder and tossed it across the room before collapsing back to the floor.

Chago crouched beside him and shoved Argus’s body off before helping him to his feet. Kagan ducked his head as he stood and Chago whistled low. “
Uff!
That’s one nasty skull fracture.”

“Give me a minute.” Kagan collapsed into a kitchen chair and dropped his face in his hands. Chago freed Mira and reached to secure her shirt. Kagan leapt to unsteady feet and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No. I’ll do it.”

He slumped back down, and Chago placed Mira’s unconscious form on his lap. Kagan tugged the sides of her shredded T-shirt around her shoulders and tied the loose ends into a crude tank top. She curled into him. He tucked her closer, warmth spreading through his chest. “You’re safe now,
piccola
. I’ve got you.”

A loud boom issued from the living room, and the smell of rotten eggs filled the air. Chago’s curse followed close behind. Kagan swiveled to find Chago beside a pool of blood, his dagger dangling from his limp hand.

“Where’s Argus?”

Chago met his gaze and spoke into his earpiece. “Houston, we have a problem.”

“What the hell happened?” Xander said, his attention zeroing in on the syringes scattered among the blood. He trekked through the junkyard of an apartment, stopping to untangle a battered throw rug from his feet and narrowly avoiding a collision with the garish black velvet Elvis room divider. The combined smell of well-used gym socks, ammonia, and stale pine room freshener completed the location’s meth lab ambiance.

Chago looked at Xander and shook his head, his expression still tinged with disbelief. “He shouldn’t have regenerated so fast.”

Xander grunted in response then moved into the kitchen to examine Kagan’s skull. “You okay?”

Kagan gave Xan a terse nod. Mira stirred and he tucked her closer.

“Hey Xan, you better come see this.” Chago called from the living room.

“Be there in a sec.” Xander pressed his finger to the pulse point on Mira’s neck, frowning at the unsteady rhythm. “How long’s she been out?”

“Thirty minutes.” Kagan said. “I already put in a call to Sloane.”

Xander nodded, hiding his uncertainty beneath a thick layer of efficiency. The brilliant Scion researcher’s drugs were never meant for use on humans. He scanned Mira’s ashen complexion and twitching muscles and hoped they weren’t too late.

“Check this out,” Chago said, tossing a piece of paper to him.

Xander snatched the note and scanned the contents. The scrawled language was like fingernails on the chalkboard of his already sour mood. “Sorry. My Enochian’s a tad rusty.”

Chago peered over Xander’s shoulder. “Looks like an incantation.”

“Why would Argus need a spell?” Xander said, more to himself than anyone else. Chago supplied one anyway, blithely unaware of Xander’s sudden urge to punch something.

“Based on those ingredients, I’d guess it’s some kind of releasing magic.”

Skata
. Xander began his customary pace, his mind churning out possible motives. “To release the Seal?”

The squeak of a chair against linoleum stopped Xander in his tracks. He looked up to find Kagan rubbing his eyes with a shaky hand.

“
Cristo
, Xan, stop pacing and let’s get out of here before the smell makes me puke.”

Mira mumbled something incoherent against Kagan’s chest and Xander relented.

He phoned Wyck to bring the Suburban around then helped Kagan stand, Mira still clutched to his chest. Chago grabbed the metal briefcase from the counter. “Seriously, Xan, hurry up. This place smells worse than a barnyard.”

Minutes later, Wyck slid into a spot by the building’s entrance. Chago opened the rear door of the Suburban and helped Kagan into the vehicle with Mira, then climbed into the vacant rear passenger seat while Xander took the front seat. Wyck pulled out into the early morning traffic. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Mira’s pale face and torn shirt. “What the hell’d he do to her?”

“Shot her full of Sloane’s drugs. She’s lucky to be alive.” Xander removed the amulet and spell from his pocket. “You guys head to Kagan’s. I’m taking this to Divinity.”

Wyck merged onto the expressway as Xander flashed from the truck.

• • •

Xander blinked, adjusting to his new surroundings. Divinity strode toward him across the marble floor with the precision of a drill sergeant. People rushed around the large room in every direction. Furniture was being carted to and fro while priceless artwork was crated and tagged.

“This better be important, Xander.” She paused at his side, her cropped white hair mussed and faint lines marring the corners of her otherwise perfect, iridescent eyes. The terseness of her tone made Xander feel like an errant schoolboy in the headmaster’s office.

“We found this in Argus’s possession.” He held out the parchment, frowning when a handmaiden loaded down with scrolls and manuscripts bumped into his arm. “What the hell’s going on, Divinity? And don’t tell me you’re redecorating.”

Divinity yanked the note from his hand and scanned the contents. Her hesitation, so brief only someone who knew her well — like himself — would have noticed. She stuffed the document back into his grasp and marched into the foyer, barking orders to the moving crew.

Against his better judgment, Xander pursued the issue, intrigued by her avoidance. He’d never known anything to disturb Divinity’s well-structured serenity. Until today. Her stilted movements and air of agitation indicated she was definitely discombobulated, and he intended to find out why.

“Chago thinks it’s some kind of magic.” Xander followed her into the den while angels, handmaidens, and the occasional celestial spirit toted possessions and artifacts from the room. “A releasing spell, perhaps.”

Divinity turned to face him, her smile thin and her gaze hard. “Xander, surely you spent enough time training with the angels to pick up some of their language?”

Xander’s mouth puckered. He’d spent a lifetime around the pretentious pricks and hadn’t been inclined to study their rarified Enochian. He knew a smattering, enough to survive, and that was fine by his standards.

“You boys never did play well together, did you?” Divinity perched on the desk’s edge, her expression softening. A second handmaiden glided in with documents requiring Divinity’s signature. The faceless handmaidens were distant relations to angels and almost as obnoxious. Unreadable and untrustworthy, they gained an identity of their own only after fulfilling an eon of faithful service to Divinity. They also gained their independence and free will. A pang of something akin to jealousy nipped his guts. Independence.

Xander looked away, exasperated. He was getting nowhere fast and contemplating the handmaidens’ undeserved advantage wasn’t helping. Argus’s vague incantation taunted him from the page. Two words caught his attention, repeated again and again, always together.
Gohed Aziagier
. Everlasting Harvest.

“What would this spell have to do with the Seals?”

“It’s a key, Xander. To unlock the barrier between the living and the dead.” Divinity paced on the marble steps. “What I’d like to know is how Argus got his claws on it. It’s supposed to be locked up tight in Lucifer’s private vault.”

Two archangels broke into an argument while moving a sofa, and Xander glanced in their direction. No translation required on those words. His mouth quirked into a grin and he turned back to Divinity. “You going somewhere?”