Seal of Destiny (2 page)

Divinity remained placid as she detonated the information. “Kagan, the location of the Seals has been discovered. We need you to ensure both the first Seal and its host are protected.”

Host?
This was new information.
Kagan’s gaze ricocheted between Divinity and Xander, who now slumped in his chair, deflated. He refused to meet Kagan’s gaze while he answered the unspoken question. “Yes, Kagan. The Seals now reside in human hosts.”

“But I thought — ”

“Enough!” Divinity fiddled with the pearls adorning her neck and stared into the fire. “The truth is, for most of their existence, the Seals were secured here. Then my vaults were breached, and the most expedient solution was to bind the Seals to seven human hosts. A place no one thought to search.”

Kagan scowled at the Persian rug beneath his bare feet. “You said ‘we.’ Who else is involved?”

“Other than myself and now you, Scion?” She met his gaze, golden turbulence sparking behind her pupils. “Lucifer.”

“
Vasto
!” Kagan gulped the rest of his brandy and rose to a warrior stance, his expression one of staunch intent; the same look had caused the soiling of many a stalwart man’s shorts through the millennia. He considered the current downward slant of his fortunes and decided facing Satan himself was the perfect assignment at the perfect time. “I’d be honored to escort the Viper straight back to Hades for you,
Divinita
.”

Divinity blinked, completely unmoved by his statement. “Kagan, your focus must be on protecting the first Seal and its host. Can I trust you to handle the situation?”

Kagan gave a brief nod, disgruntled. Of course he could be trusted! Now his loyalty was in question as well?

He sought the support of his commander. Xander refused to meet his gaze, his attention fixed on the blasted fire. Nostrils flaring and arms twined tight, Kagan’s glare burned an imaginary hole through the opposing wall. “I’m to guard this Seal and host? Nothing more?”

Divinity’s serene tone sliced scalpel-sharp through his anger. “This mission is the most important summons of your career, Kagan. Important enough to require a lengthy sabbatical to ensure your full competence.” She hesitated, meeting his pointed stare with unapologetic confidence. “I had to know you were ready. If you fail, the results will be catastrophic.”

Kagan forced himself to relax. Divinity had ordered his century-long retreat? Didn’t make sense to him, but then it wasn’t his place to question. Those were the rules. The rules did not, however, dictate his chosen attitude about said assignment.
Oca! Nothing more than a glorified babysitter. Again.
Kagan inhaled deeply and raised his tensed jaw, his response swift as a dart. “Fine. Where?”

His commander’s answering glower showed his irritation at Kagan’s less than enthusiastic attitude. Kagan was well beyond caring.

Xander finished his brandy and placed the empty snifter on the mahogany desk with a resounding
thwack
. He then fired off the mission details, bullet-point style while he paced. “Your target’s name is Mira Herald. She’s in Chicago, and she works at a bar called The G Spot. We’ve already arranged a place for you to stay. You must make contact with the host tonight and keep her under guard until otherwise notified, understood?”

With a curt nod, Kagan glanced at his robe then up at his commander. While he might not be able to refuse the job, he could still have some fun poking Xander’s over-regimented bear along the way. “Will I be provided with a more appropriate wardrobe? This garment’s useful, but Chicago’s on the windy side and with it being December, I — ” Jeans and a black T-shirt smacked him in the face. Xander flashed a silent dare in his direction before he resumed pacing on the priceless carpet.

“Ah, so generous of you,
amico
. What about boots, a coat — ” Items continued to fly while Kagan listed them off. When he’d finished, he stood fully dressed and faced his taciturn commander, his lips twitching to hide a grin in response to Xander’s peevish scowl. “Weapons?”

“Check yourself,” Xander said before stalking out to lean against a marble column in the foyer. He shot Kagan a final, forbidding glare, then pulled out his phone and dialed.

The front pockets of Kagan’s long wool coat bulged. He reached in to find a Glock 17 in each pocket; inside his boots, the familiar weight of a sheathed dagger rested against each shin.

Locked and ammo-loaded, Kagan took the phone Divinity handed him and checked the current Chicago weather report. An involuntary wince crossed his features when the frigid forecast appeared: temperature in the teens with a below-zero wind chill.
Che palle!
This job got more hellish with each passing second.

He shoved the phone in his pocket and contemplated the fastest route to get this mission concluded. One host. One Seal. Should only take mere hours to secure and ship them wherever Divinity requested. One problem solved. Not so terrible. Kagan gave a perfunctory wave in Xander’s direction then turned to Divinity with a flourish. “As always,
puro paradiso
.”

“Please be careful, Kagan.” Divinity studied him with a cautioning stare.

Kagan nodded and stepped away. Eyes closed and power concentrated, he disappeared moments later in a brilliant flash.

• • •

Mira burrowed into the collar of her coat and climbed the stairs to the platform. The stiff wind blowing in from Lake Michigan fogged her breath and stung her eyes, chafing her skin with bitter coldness. She clung with fleece-covered hands to the railing and waited for the arriving train to come to a complete stop. Once it halted, Mira pushed through the exiting commuters to plunk down dead center on a double seat and stare blindly at the scenery beyond. The train neared her destination a short time later. They jerked into the station and she bulldozed toward the entrance. The sudden prickle of prying eyes skittered over her and Mira snapped sideways, glowering at the crowd behind. No one dared meet her hostile glare, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.

Mira fidgeted at the exit, leaping out when the doors opened. She disappeared into the crowds on the platform and jogged down the steps to street level. Through the crowded pre-holiday hustle and bustle, Mira spotted a bright red beret and waved its owner over. “Hey, Munchkin!”

The munchkin — at least six inches taller than Mira herself — rolled her eyes and fell into step. The curvaceous brunette clutched a steaming cup of chai between mitten-covered hands. “Damn, it’s freezing out here.”

“Yeah. Tell me something I
don’t
know.” Mira looked both ways before crossing against the light. She stopped on the opposite corner and waited, arms akimbo. “C’mon, Zoe. We’re going to be late.”

Zoe pursed her lips and stepped into the lane. A taxi screeched to a halt inches from striking her and honked. Tea flew everywhere. Mira shook her head while Zoe bustled across the street, patted the front of her red wool coat with a napkin and scowled, the remains of her decimated cup landing in the nearby trashcan. “Remind me again why you’re my best friend?”

Mira studied her, then locked arms with Zoe and took off toward the club. “Because, Zoe girl, you’re all I’ve got.”

Once they arrived, Zoe slipped away into the kitchen with a wave. Mira shrugged out of her coat and scanned the clipboard work schedule to confirm her evening assignment. Security and …
Oh, Hell No! Not cover again. Second time this week, dammit, and tonight’s open mike night too.
She’d be out there forever.

She complained to the buxom bartender polishing glasses. “Shit, Bebe. It’s ten degrees outside. I’ll be a human popsicle by the end of the night!”

Bebe ran an assessing look over Mira’s outfit and returned to her barware. “Girl, you know they’d let you serve if you dressed up. Showed some skin.”

“Whatever.” Mira gave a dismissive wave, covertly eyeing Bebe’s skin-tight shirt and painted-on denims. She could have shown some skin. Hell, she
had
shown some skin, before the attack, before her innocence was shredded by trusted hands, before she’d realized the hard truth of vulnerability. Her mind screeched to a halt. Snippet memories of sticky vinyl seats, groping invasions, and brutal violations bombarded her psyche. Eyes squeezed shut, Mira forced the memories back into containment. Bebe shrugged at Mira’s silence and tossed her long blonde hair over a shoulder, shifting her attention when one of the male bouncers walked in. Mira took a deep breath and checked her watch. Showtime.

“I’m heading outside now,” she called and rewrapped her winter layers. Mira shoved her hair under the enormous hood and peeked out the entrance at the area set up for collecting cover. Dusk descended, and she still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling she was being stalked. The brisk wind churned and Mira failed to suppress a shiver. One of the bouncers brought out a stool and the cashbox and took up his position by the door. With a last glance at her surroundings, Mira climbed up on the tall seat and pulled her gloves on before the first partiers arrived.

• • •

Kagan reclined against a streetlight across from The G Spot, hidden in shadow while observing the line now snaking down the block. Brutal frigid air smacked him in the face and he huddled inside his wool coat. For all its appeal, the Windy City was too far on the polar side for his taste. A century living in the remote Tuscan countryside had transformed the ancient Latin of his mortal Roman life into a fluent tide of Italian and rekindled his love of the sun and sand and heat. Chicago lacked all of the above. Here chill invaded his bones and people struggled with his accent. Kagan was now a man without a country, without a home. He ignored the slow burn of loneliness eating at his gut and flipped up the collar of his coat, squinting through watery eyes at the gathered crowd.

The weather didn’t seem to affect the odd assortment of people waiting to enter the non-descript club attached to the liquor store. Mini-skirted women with no coats at all flirted with the bouncer and guys in the latest designer hip-hop wear talked on their cell phones. Goth rockers waited next to men in suits who’d finished up a hard day on the financial markets while the ever-present college horde laughed and carried on, out to party.

Kagan shuffled to increase his circulation and surveyed his target. Whatever he’d expected, Mira Herald wasn’t it. Though difficult to see exact details, her legs dangling high off the ground from atop the not so lofty perch of her stool hinted at a petite frame. Otherwise the girl remained a complete mystery, well barricaded within her voluminous outfit. No, voluminous was too polite a description. The mass of fabric surrounding her was nothing short of a circus-tent monstrosity — all funhouse shapes and baggy clown flounces. Except for her feet. The shapeless jeans were shoved deep inside a pair of boots more inclined to kick some ass than walk away.

Suspicion niggled as he eyed her footwear. This target may not prove as easy to secure as he’d first anticipated.
Merda!
Kagan’s gloved hands bunched and the wind howled. The fact he’d practically begged for a summons, any summons, did nothing to improve his temper. Divinity’s words echoed in his head.
The most important summons of your career.
Kagan snorted, kicking ice chunks down the curb with his frozen toes. Not likely.

A gust caught the edge of his target’s craterous hood and tipped it backward. Chestnut curls tumbled out in riotous chaos. The long strands blew wild, and his mind dredged up a line from a favorite Yeats poem:
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams. Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
Kagan shook his head and snorted.
Cristo!
He was getting senile. A strange tingle drifted through his gut and his lips pursed. Not the buzz of another immortal. Something different. Odd.

His mood darkened as the bouncer to Mira’s side leaned closer to help pull up her hood while she stuffed her hair inside. The bouncer’s hand lingered a second longer than Kagan deemed necessary and a muscle began to tick near his eye.
Dai!
Must be hypothermia.
Another blast of arctic wind gusted, and Kagan decided now was the time to get his damn mission over and done. First order of business — make contact with the target.

He pushed off the light pole and jogged across the busy street, dodging cars along the way to approach the end of the line. Kagan kept an eye on Ms. Herald from under lowered lashes and pulled money from his wallet. Despite his best efforts, his gaze continued to stray toward the long, errant strands still swirling out of her hood. No matter how viciously she crammed them back inside, they continued to dart out, defiant. With a glance at her boots, Kagan smiled in spite of his foul attitude.
Brave hair.

• • •

From the entrance, Mira glanced across the street while she collected cover and released her pent-up a breath. After two hours, he was gone. She blew on her fleece-covered hands, desperate to generate some warmth. Fatigue assaulted her mind, and she huddled inside the huge down jacket. Her emotions always rode closer to the surface when she was exhausted. Crankiness boiled full-tilt in the pit of her stomach, and with each passing hour, she longed for the end of her shift and an escape from the pre-holiday craze.

“
Ciao, piccola
.” A deep male voice, vaguely accented, brushed over her. Money was thrust under her nose. Mira reached for the bill, her gaze ticking upward to lock with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Mesmerizing eyes. Probing eyes. Recognition dawned.
Shit!
Her pseudo-stalker continued to study her, expectant.

Up close, the guy was taller than she’d expected — at least six and a half feet if she judged by the enormous bouncer at her side. The bulky winter clothes did nothing to disguise the breadth of his shoulders, and the heavy material cleaved to his brawny arms testified to the power contained therein. A loose, easy smile spread across the planes of his tan face, revealing even white teeth behind lips full of sensual promise. It was the smile of a man used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The casual ease of an alpha predator at the top of his game.