Sealed in Sin (8 page)

“Right,” I said, “and the break-in at the Vatican happened around that time, if you’re sources are correct.”

“They are.” She smirked. “I have some helpful friends.”

“I’m sure you do.”

My mind drifted back to the scene with Bleed, where he practically drooled on Kat’s boots, begging her to torture-pleasure him. “Kat, why do they all call you Domina?”

She lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug, her lips compressing for a second. “I guess because I’m a Mistress of Demons, not a Master.”

“Are there other female hunters?”

“Only two, actually. One works in Russia, the other is in the Far East. I’ve only met them on one or two occasions. Demon hunting is a busy business,” she said, absently peeling off the beer bottle label.

“Bleed was working himself into a frenzy around you.”

Focusing on peeling off the label in one piece, she said, “Yes, well, pain and torture turns them on.” Her speech was terse and clipped. She ripped off the label, tearing the edge, and tossed it aside. “Speaking of Bleed,” she added, changing the subject, “I believe he was right in that Damas has the lost prophecy, but perhaps he shared the information with his brother. That’s what changed Bamal’s mind. He now has the
full
prophecy.”

I met her frowning gaze. “That means there’s something in the second half of this prophecy that requires me to be alive, if I am actually the One the prophecy speaks of.”

“You are, Gen.”

“But why would Damas share it if he’s kept it hidden all this time?” I couldn’t keep fear from trembling through me. There was a truth I was missing. I could feel it. My VS pulsed inside my breast, trying to find the answer.

“Gen. Look.”

I glanced down at my hands. A white light glowed under my skin.

“You are definitely the One in the prophecy. It’s like the power within you knows we’re nearing the time.” She pulled my phone from my trembling hands.

“
Have mercy on the mindless twin, when Wrath is right and Virtue sin. Sun and Moon, eye to eye…
and that’s all we have. I’ve never been able to sort through this last part. Twin? What twin? And why mindless?”

I focused on the last. “And how can wrath be right and virtue be sin? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense. We just can’t make any sense of it. We
need
the rest, the lost part.”

“But it’s not lost,” I pointed out. “We know who found it.”

Kat scoffed. “And we’ll never get it from him. Not on our own.” She stood and paced one length of the fireplace before pivoting to face me again, grinning from ear to ear. “What about your angel?”

“Thomas? What about him?”

“Maybe he could help.”

“I thought guardian angels were on the lower end of the totem pole. How would he know anything?”

“In hierarchy, yes. But they are the only angels who spend enormous amounts of time on earth. Besides, he would have more souls than yours to watch over. Maybe he’s come across something that can help.”

“Maybe so. I’ll ask.”

“What does Jude say about him?”

I stood from the sofa, feeling tired and weary all of a sudden. “He doesn’t know.”

“Why not?” Kat grinned. “Your angel is hot, isn’t he?”

I choked on a laugh. “Aren’t all angels?”

“And demons too, I’m afraid.”

“And saints,” I added with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “On that fine note, I’ll say good night. But you should tell Jude. He might be miffed another Flamma is trying to play protector to you, but angels don’t have ulterior motives. Not bad ones, that is.” Her pretty brows puckered into a frown for about the fourth time tonight. “Not that I know of, anyway.”

With a whoosh, she sifted out, a wave of sandy beach wafting through the room. I wandered into Jude’s bedroom, kicked off my boots and clothes, donned one of his T-shirts and climbed into his bed. Alone.

I wasn’t so sure Thomas didn’t have an ulterior motive. It might not be wicked or evil per se, but it definitely might not be one Jude would approve. The look of adoration in his eyes as he shielded me from the filth in that demon pit tonight would not leave me as I wrapped my hand around my moon opal and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Eight

My bare feet made no sound in powdery snow. A feather-soft gown whispered against my ankles. The white blanket of winter stretched wide and long, an endless plane. Naked trees, stark and black against a pristine canvas, circled a clearing. My pounding heart drew me closer. No wind. No sound. Only my quick breaths puffing out in swirling vapor.

I stepped beyond the trees where a small pool, clear and blue-green, marked the center. The pool steamed. Squatting at the edge, I peered at my reflection. Dark hair long and loose, blue eyes shining bright, pink lips parted in wonder. The pool rippled, speaking to me, beckoning.

Reaching forward, I touched the pad of my middle finger to the surface. Warm water rushed up my fingers, my hand, my arm, pulling me down. I went without a struggle, longing for the comfort it offered, embraced in blue serenity. The water transformed. Strong arms, broad shoulders, muscled torso, heavy thighs wrapped me in deep calm. This prince of winter had a face, a beautiful one with sea-green eyes, shining down with affection, admiration…longing. He leaned close, whispering something I couldn’t hear.

His lips found mine, brushing soft and sweet, kissing them open for his tongue to come inside. Still no sound, only the sensual caress of Thomas covering me with his body, his hands, his mouth. We lay in the clearing on the snow, but no cold touched me. Only the sensation of heat filling my blood, pumping my heart, racing along my skin. I floated in some surreal place. A paradise offering pleasure not peace. Desire was a constant, desperate thing, urging me on. I arched against him, pressed my breasts to his chest, opened my legs, laced my fingers into his silky hair, stroked my tongue against his, needing him closer, closer…deeper.

I gasped awake. Panting. Shaking.

The sound and smell of bacon frying in the kitchen snapped me from my daze.

I jumped out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After stripping and placing my necklace on the counter, I stepped under the shower, letting the steaming water wash away the dream-memory of Thomas’s hands on my skin, his lips on mine.

What was that?

By the time I dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a top from the bottom drawer of Jude’s dresser, I felt ten times better. I’d recently started storing some of my clothes here for sleepovers, which seemed to be more and more often.

While brushing my teeth, I tried to rid myself of the guilt. It wasn’t cheating if my subconscious did the deed. Right? But why would I be thinking such things, even in sleep?

Now in the full light of day in Jude’s home, I felt grounded, stable, safe. Far away from wicked thoughts that had no place in my head.

I walked into the kitchen, twisting my hair into a messy bun. Sitting at the table, I pulled my knees under my chin. Our morning routine had become habitual in recent weeks. Some nights, I stayed at my place, but Mindy and David were so disgustingly wrapped around each other that I felt like I was invading their honeymoon suite rather than living in my apartment. I’d opted to crash at Jude’s more times than I could count. He didn’t seem to mind, though I rarely had the pleasure of his company at night when he was out on the hunt for the prophecy.

Shirtless in jeans, Jude stood over the stove, stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. I let my eyes have their fill. Strange thing was, I never did get my fill, never did get bored of shamelessly ogling this beautiful man. His magnificent, full-back tattoo of St. Michael the Archangel slaying the devil rippled as if it were alive, moving over tight muscles beneath tan-and-ink skin.

Scooping eggs and bacon onto a plate, he turned to bring it to me, knowing I was already there. I jumped to my feet.

“What happened to your chest!”

“Good morning.” He pecked me on the forehead and placed my breakfast on the table.

I angled his hard-muscled body toward the light filtering through the bay window. He let me move him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have budged him an inch. A long gash crossed from his inside shoulder about seven inches across his pectoral, slashing across the right arm of his Celtic cross tattoo. He’d stitched it up himself. I recognized the stitching, having had his handiwork on my abdomen after a scrape with demons two months ago.

“It’s fine. I had a run-in with a demon spawn last night.”

“It doesn’t look fine.” I kept my fingers away from the wound, examining closer under the morning light. “What kind of demon spawn?”

“A titan. A big one.”

Most spawn, created by high demons, took small unassuming forms, such as the dark mind-mist Gorham used to control the innocent girls in his strip club. Rarely had I heard about the furies or titans. I’d never seen either myself.

“What were you doing confronting it alone?
Damn it
, Jude.”

His hands wrapped my waist, pulling me closer. A small smile creased his typically grave expression.

“Worried for me?”

“Of course I am, you stupid oaf. You go wandering off by yourself to God knows where doing God knows what. You don’t tell me anything, and you come back here with a huge gash across your chest. Just a bit higher, and it would’ve taken your stupid head.”

He chuckled.

“It’s not funny.”

“I know.”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not.”

He pulled me closer. I scowled, arms crossed to keep him at a distance.

“It’s been a long time since anyone has worried about me.”

I sobered at the thought. He wasn’t mocking my irritation. He was genuinely happy someone cared. I opened my arms and gripped his biceps to keep from pressing against his wound.

“And if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t alone. George joined me last night.”

I exhaled in relief. “Good. So tell me what kind of spawn could do something like this.”

“A nasty piece of work. Not sure who created the creature, but it guarded an ancient place in the East believed to hold old relics. George and I thought the prophecy might be within.”

“And was it?”

He shook his head, expression fading to the pensive stonelike façade I knew so well.

“Kat and I discovered something, though I doubt it will help much.” He waited rather than ask me to spill it. Jude preferred nonverbal communication. His hands tightened on my waist a fraction, reminding me of his dominant presence. As if I could forget. “The lower demon we visited said he once worked for the demon prince who had the prophecy last. Damas.”

Jude’s expression darkened. He released me in a slow, deliberate manner, turning to face the window. The room heated by several degrees. Jude carried an aura of flame wherever he went. Unseen except in moments of pure rage, it simmered along the surface. Most of the time, he kept this odd quirk of his under control. But when his anger rose, so did the fire within.

“When and where did this demon work for Damas?”

The menace infused in his tone when he spoke the prince’s name made me shiver. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such malice. The demons were scary monsters, but Jude was scarier.

“Centuries ago at Glastonbury Abbey. But Dommiel’s informant claims Damas hid it somewhere else.”

Silence reigned for what felt like forever. Jude could be the poster boy for dark and brooding.

I could practically see the heat recoil into him as he regained his composure. He spun to leave the room. “Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.”

I followed after him. “What are you going to do? Go after Damas?”

He made a laughing sort of noise, denoting hatred, not humor. “I’m afraid Damas is the master at hiding. No one has seen him for ages. Trust me. I’ve been looking.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

I trailed after him into his weapons room. He headed straight for the glass-encased wall and removed a rough-hewn iron sword with a Crusader’s cross engraved in the hilt. The moment Jude touched it, my VS sang to life, pulsing a white light under my skin. Distracted by my VS power, Jude captured my gaze, drawing me in, rocketing my pulse faster as if he had a control fastened to my heart. He slowed his movements, coming closer with the sword at his side. The aura of Vessel power I’d come to think of as my underlight glowed brighter as he closed the distance.

He smiled. “Your power grows.”

“Yes. But don’t ask me what this means, because it often has a mind of its own.”

His gaze roved over my skin with a sense of awe.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Go to Glastonbury.”

“But the prophecy isn’t there anymore. That’s where it was written. Surely, Damas wouldn’t keep it there.”

“Perhaps not, but sometimes demons leave something behind that marks a trail.”

“Like what?”

His grin was a feral thing. “Demon spawn.” He glanced down at the sword again, placing it on a velvet cloth near his whetstone.

“Jude, take me with you.”

He gave a noncommittal shake of the head before setting out an oil used in sharpening the blade.

“Jude. You have to take me with you.” My voice cracked.

He halted and put the weapon down. The recognition of my desperation shone clear in his immediate attentiveness. We were so attuned to one another.

“What’s wrong?” He pulled me into a gentle embrace, holding me so that he could see my face.

I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d let the fear and darkness of last night start to smother me. The demon pit in the swamp had weighed down my spirit, making my heart heavy. The fear came from those feelings of helplessness, of drowning in the murky depths of evil and sin. An emotion I knew every Vessel before me had felt, a sensation I’d experienced myself when Danté had possessed my soul for the briefest of moments. I also knew the fate of every Vessel before me, my chest clenching tight at the thought. A fate I refused to acknowledge would be mine.

There was something else that poured dread into my spirit ever since I’d awoken this morning. The fact that in that hellish pit last night when the heaviness swelled to breaking me, Thomas was the one to buoy me back up to the light. Thomas had been there to keep me from slipping under. I wanted Jude, not Thomas. No matter what my subconscious might be trying to tell me, Jude was the man of my heart.

His warm, callused hand cupped my cheek, angling my face to meet his gaze. Sparks of amber broke apart the black swirling pools. A rare sight. Knowing that the true gold of his eyes grew brighter—glittering through the black residue of the souls he’d cast into hell—whenever his emotions shifted away from darkness, I smiled. My eyesight blurred. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not realizing how desperate I’d become in a matter of minutes.

“What is it, my heart?” The soft tenor of his rough tone made me want to sob.

I closed my eyes, unable to tell him all I felt. Especially unwilling to speak of Thomas—too afraid he would see last night’s dream written in lines of guilt on my face. A tear slipped down my cheek.

“We’re always apart these days, Jude.” I opened my eyes, imploring him to understand without my having to confess too much. “I want to be with you. Not just in these brief moments hidden away in your place. Or mine. I want to fight with you, to do this together. I want to really
be
with you.”

Something had come over me so suddenly, the reality that this battle between good and evil was setting up residence between us, dividing us by day and night. A supernatural presence within me warned of the danger, warned of all that was at stake should Jude and I ever separate.

On the other hand, I felt foolish. Was I being overemotional because the moment of my twentieth birthday, my world had begun falling apart? I’d been chased and nearly killed by demons on a daily basis. I spent more time lurking in demon pits than I did in the campus library. I’d realized that college was of no real use to me because the world was soon coming to an end. Or the world as we knew it. I’d come to the horrifying realization that I’d outlive every person I loved. Except for the one standing before me.

I watched as his emotions warred behind otherworldly eyes—fear for my safety against the undeniable need to make me content. He pressed my cheek to the warmth of his bare chest. I sighed, breathing in the masculine scent of him, my heart tripping faster at his nearness, at the protective grip of his arms around me.

He pressed a kiss to my crown, gliding his hand up and down my back, soothing me with gentle strokes.

“Okay,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll take you with me tonight.”

My spirit soared. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. Not only would I finally travel with Jude tonight, but I also suspected his presence would keep Thomas from making any sudden appearances. I needed to put some distance between myself and the guardian angel who’d found his way into my dreams.