The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (3 page)

“I’m sorry, Mari.” Lexi gave Mari an apologetic look. “Michael’s message was explicit. Just Mikos and I are to go.”

Mari frowned. “Where? What is the mission?”

Lexi and Mikos exchanged another look. “We are not permitted to speak of it,” Mikos said.

Mari’s frown deepened. “Not permitted? What game is Michael playing?”

“No game, Marisol. Michael doesn’t have that kind of humor.” A smile twitched at the corner of Mikos’s mouth.

“Then what?”

“Listen, Mari, we aren’t happy about this either,” Lexi said. “It’s not like Michael gave us a choice. You know how he is.” She crossed her arms. “‘It is your destiny to battle the demons of Hell and save the world from darkness’,” she intoned, sounding remarkably like Michael.

Even pissed, Mari couldn’t stop her chuckle from escaping. Mikos shook his head, the twist of his lips indulging.

“Okay, okay,” she said holding up her hands. “I get it. Just stop with the Michael bit.”

Lexi laughed. “Hey, just telling it like it is.”

“So,” Mari said, “how long will you be gone?”

“At least a month.”

“A month?” Restlessness tugged at Mari’s feet. “What are we supposed to do for a month?”

“I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time, Marisol.” As if he couldn’t bear to be so close to Lexi and not touch her, Mikos put his arm across her shoulders and pulled her tight to his side.

Another pang swept through Mari at the tender gesture. “Oh, I can,” she drawled, glad that at least her voice was even toned and clear. No mushy feelings cluttering her mind and ability to fight. “I just didn’t think you’d want me to find something to keep myself busy.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Jackson drawled. “I’ll make sure you’re not bored.”

She slid him a flat glance. “I don’t need your help, human. I can take care of myself.”

“Well, sure, honey, but it’s not you I’m worried about.” He leaned forward and an eyebrow lifted. “I’m afraid my fellow humans wouldn’t survive the experience.”

Three days after Lexi and Mikos left on their secret mission, Mari slouched in the big chair in Mikos’s study, a recent woman’s magazine open on her lap, showing the newest must-haves for the fall. Or so the writer claimed. While some of the clothing had a stark attractiveness to them, the styles were neither comfortable nor sturdy. She’d found this out when she’d first taken to human form.

The high-heeled shoes and boots had definitely been sexy, but she could barely walk in them, much less kick ass. And the narrow skirts and tailored jackets left her unable to move and flex. When she’d been surprised by a demon attack, the hell-spawned clothing had nearly been her undoing. So she’d burned all the wicked high heels and traded in tight skirts and confining tops for formfitting black jeans and long-sleeved tee shirts with an occasional fitted jacket made of flexible material.

Her one indulgence was her boots. Most times she wore ankle-high, sturdy boots with low heels and solid toes, but sometimes she couldn’t help donning the higher heels and more decorative styles.

Mari kicked her jean-clad leg back and forth, restlessness she couldn’t seem to shake threatening to burst forth in a flurry of teeth and claws. The flickering flames from the fireplace reflected her mood as they seemed to struggle to burst from the confines of the surrounding stone. Fires of Hell, boredom tugged at her will, sapping her strength.

For the first time, she was left alone in Mikos’s huge mansion with no one for company. Even Gordie was gone. He’d been allowed to join Lexi and Mikos.

At the sound of masculine singing—a deep-timbered voice mixed with the sandpaper scratch of another—coming from somewhere in the house, Mari frowned.

Not alone at all. How could she have forgotten?

Before she could ignore the raucous noise, words crept under her defenses.

While she couldn’t make out the words with total clarity—she heard lyrics, sung in horrendously off-key tones—about a Scotsman stumbling behind a bush. When the Scotsman lifted his kilt, he saw something that made him think he’d won some kind of prize. Following the chorus, the discordant sounds of masculine laughter set her nerves on edge. Mari pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes skyward, the direction of the clamor. Jackson and the Illianian shapeshifter, Rocky, had formed an immediate bond. Probably because of their affinity for debauchery and drunken carousing.

Irritation with herself aggravated her already dark mood. She tossed the magazine to the floor and with a flick of her fingers, incinerated it. With satisfaction, she watched it burn. Just the magazine—not Mikos’s carpet. He likely would not approve of her using fire in his house, but since he wasn’t currently in residence, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, as the humans said.

“In a bit of a snit, cousin?”

The cool voice broke into her reverie, the rich, sensual tone sending a ripple of awareness up her spine. And she hadn’t thought she could be more aggravated. She really didn’t have the patience.

“Since when does Lucifer’s Slayer consort with those lesser beings other than his magnificent self?” she retorted, pleased at how sarcastic she sounded.

She raised her eyes and met the hard, washed-out eyes—like glacial ice—of Asher Dakeni, Hell’s most ruthless warrior. Like many of the Fallen, he wore black from head to toe, the unrelieved darkness broken here and there by buckles and the silver flash of weaponry tucked into his belt. Dark hair flowed over his shoulders, absorbing the fire’s reflection. His face was a study of hard edges and a chiseled jaw that did nothing to diminish his striking appearance. A lethal appearance designed to instill fear into those who pissed off Lucifer.

A list she and Mikos currently topped.

In the shuffle for position within the two hundred angels who had fallen with Lucifer, it hadn’t taken Asher long to dominate the others and take the most coveted and deadly position at Lucifer’s side. Because of his role, Asher spent his time alone. Except lately, he’d been hanging around Mikos.

Once, the two angels had been as close as brothers. When Mikos gave up Hell and allegiance to Lucifer, Asher hadn’t been able to forgive Mikos and they’d become enemies. But now, they were wary allies. During the last confrontation with Lucifer’s son, Asher had offered, without charge or invoking fine print, information which ultimately led to Beliel’s defeat, even if Asher had neglected to tell them of the familial relationship. Whether or not Lucifer knew what his Slayer had done, judging by his appearance, it seemed that Asher had come out just fine.

And for a demon, especially one of Asher’s status, to give something with nothing in return was rare. But then, a demon as powerful as Asher had no need to barter.

What he wanted, he took.

“Come now, Marisol. Is that any way to show respect?”

Mari snorted. Deadly or not, Asher had never seen her bow to him. She’d not start now. “Slayer, if you want respect, then you should go bother someone else. I’m sure you can find any number of sycophants willing to kiss your booted feet for a chance to get on Lucifer’s good side. Supposing he has one.”

Asher sauntered over to Mikos’s large mahogany desk and sat in the chair. Leaning back, he placed one aforementioned booted heel on the polished surface. She winced. He was going to leave a dark smudge. She frowned. How the hell was she going to explain that to Mikos? Especially since he thought his wards were now strong enough to keep Asher out? Wary allies or not, Mikos didn’t like the idea Asher could enter and leave at his will.

Apparently his wards weren’t powerful enough. Or Ash had gotten much stronger. It didn’t bear thinking about either one of those options.

In what she hoped was a casual movement—it didn’t pay to be too unconcerned around the Slayer—Mari uncurled her legs and stood. After crossing to the large window looking out into the garden, she halted and pulled back the drape then peered out. In contrast to her mood, the sun shone brightly, illuminating the multicolored leaves as they changed from the dull green of summer into their fall display.

In one of the more affluent areas of suburban Chicago, Mikos’s place was nestled in the center of a veritable forest. One of the few places where the next house was a distance from the other. Especially good in Mikos’s case. He valued his privacy. Good thing, because many things that happened here should be private.

She glanced over her shoulder at Ash. At ease, he stared at her in silence as if he had all the time in the world.

Finally, she offered, “Mikos isn’t here.”

Gloved fingers drummed on the dark wood. Not impatience—probably designed to unsettle her.

“Yes. I am aware of that,” he said. “I did not come to talk to Mikos.” He held up a finger before she could speak. “Or the mortal female.”

Mari lifted a brow.
Interesting
. “Then what do you want?”

“I came to speak to you. To give you information. And a warning.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He’d never once sought her out. Not even when she was still in Hell, and certainly not when she’d left with Mikos. “Oh?”

Asher’s long legs swung off the desk, and he stood. With relaxed grace, he paced to the other side of the fireplace. “Beliel is free again.”

After she finished a less than satisfying bout of swearing under her breath, she muttered, “Someone needs to put a leash on that bastard.” She released the curtain as she moved away from the window. Scowling at Asher, she continued, “Is he coming here?”

If that was the case, she needed to warn Mikos and Lexi. Wherever they were. Eight months ago, they had defeated Beliel. The demon’s life had been spared only because he turned out to be Lucifer’s son. Something about keeping the balance and favors earned.

She didn’t care. If she’d been at that battle instead of in the Twilight trying to find her way back after the bitch succubus Jahi sent her there, she’d have killed the bastard. They’d all known Beliel would return. Mari just hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

Asher shook his head. “No. He seeks another relic.”

She sniffed. “Another relic? What does this one do? Give him a personality?”

“That would be dangerous enough.”

Amusement glittered in his icy gaze. Mari resisted a snort of laughter. Not that there was anything funny about the situation.

“He seeks the Mayan Death Skull.” Asher waved a hand.

Shimmering before her eyes, a human skull took form. Glimmering reflected light danced in the diamondlike material. In a pretty close approximation of a human skull, this one had a hinged jaw that appeared to be fixed with a gold wire. Deep-set eyes and broad nose filled the majority of the face. There was a feminine aspect to the skull. Her fingers wanted to trace the smooth outlines. She curled her fingers into her palms.

“He seeks a skull? What does he need a skull for? Even one made of diamond.”

Asher shook his head. “Not diamond. Quartz. This is not an ordinary human skull. At least, it didn’t start that way. What do you know of the human race called the Mayans?”

Mari moved closer to the skull image and circled it. She shrugged. She did not concern herself with human history. “Not much. An ancient race that disappeared without reason.”

After a brief nod, Asher continued, “The Mayans were once a great civilization with an advanced culture. More importantly, their priests were said to possess magic.”

“Did they?”

A crooked smile and another bob of his head. “Many did. Enough for the stories to be true.” He gestured at the skull. “Like the skull. Beliel has joined forces with a human to seek the skull, to use it to threaten the most powerful world leaders to give up their rule to him. He believes that since he cannot rule Hell, he will rule Earth.”

Mari eyed the gleaming object. “Fires of Hell, Asher, what can a skull made of crystal do?”

“The skull was given to the ancient Mayans by the Lords of Xibalba, the Mayan underworld. The priests used the power in the skull to will others to death. And to do…other things. It is how the Mayan civilization grew so large and what ultimately destroyed them.”

She couldn’t help herself. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? Lords of Xibalba? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Asher waved a hand again. “Minor death gods, lords of the Mayan’s belief of Hell, but still powerful in their own way. With the skull, they made the Mayans nearly invincible.”

“What changed?”

“The things that usually do. Greed. Power. A lust for both. The Mayan priests turned on each other and the people, until they numbered less than one hundred. This is why the Mayan civilization today is so much less than it used to be. In order to survive in any form, they had to mate with others outside the Mayan race.”

“That’s interesting, Ash, but what about the skull? What happened to it?”

“A Mayan peasant, at great cost to himself, took the skull and hid it. Since he died with it, it lay hidden for centuries. Until the 1920s when a human female is said to have found it laying at the base of an altar in an old Mayan ruin.”

“Is that true?”

He stared at her but didn’t respond. Damnation, she wasn’t going to get anything else from him. “Why are you telling me this, Asher? Won’t Lucifer be unhappy you are involved?”