Beneath the Skin (15 page)

If it wasn't for Dante, Heather wouldn't be on the run. If it wasn't for Dante, this whole mess never would've happened. Yeah, but if it wasn't for Dante, Heather would be dead and in the ground.

The fallen angel's hands slid away from Annie's arms and she rubbed her bruised and talon-pricked flesh.

Her sister's words whispered through her mind:
He sacrificed himself for you. He saved my life. Now he needs us.

Annie felt sick. She closed her eyes. "You're not gonna hurt him, right? 'Cuz he's a cool guy, don't get me wrong, and I usually love bad and dangerous boys with a capital L and Dante's
soooo
fucking beautiful and bad. He sang to me in Cajun, y'know? Even kissed me, but he's
too
goddamned dangerous and I'm scared he'll hurt Hea--"

"Enough."

Annie opened her eyes as a finger topped by a thick white talon pressed against her lips, stopping her stream-of-consciousness flow of words. She looked into the angel's blue eyes.

"He is the
creawdwr,"
he said. "I would never harm him. I only want to take him home to Gehenna, where he belongs."

Annie pushed away the fallen angel's silencing finger. "Great," she breathed. "And Dante'd be happier there too, right? In his true home?"

"Of course. He's spent too much time in Hell as it is."

Annie frowned. "Hell?"

The fallen bastard waved a taloned hand around the room. "Here."

"You mean the motel? Yeah, it pretty much sucks. But the sun was rising and we needed to get Dante and Von inside so they wouldn't burn and--"

The fallen angel sighed. "I meant the mortal world."

"What the fuck's wrong with the mortal world, asshole?"

"Aside from the fact that it's filled with mortals?"

"Fuck you."

The fallen bastard smiled, but his holier-than-thou expression made a liar of his lips. "What's your name?"

"Annie. What do I call you besides asshole?"

"Star shall suffice."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Star, huh? Think it might've been the ego that got you kicked outta heaven, dude?"

The fallen angel--Star--regarded her with icy disdain. "Hardly--even if you choose to believe that particular fabrication." He crossed his arms over his bare chest. His knee-length cobalt blue kilt rippled like water whenever he moved, a braided black belt with a gleaming silver Celtic knot-work buckle holding it in place at his waist.

"You promise you won't hurt Dante?" Annie said. "Everyone's gonna be pissed as hell that he's gone and I'm gonna just pretend that I slept through everything like they did and--"

"I said I
wished
I could take him. I never said I
would
take him."

"Why the hell not?"

"Free will. Perhaps you've heard of it?" Star arched an eyebrow.

"You fucking kidding me?"

"Not when it comes to free will," Star replied. "I need to win Dante's confidence, his friendship, so I can bond with him. Then I'll return home, the
creawdwr
at my side. If I take Dante with me now, he might turn every living thing in Gehenna to stone. Or side with my enemies. No, given the seizures you mentioned, I need to bond with him and soon."

Star's face blazed and Annie squinted, wishing for sunglasses. "What if you don't become BFFs? What if he hates you on sight?"

"BFFs?"

Annie sighed. "Best friends forever. What then?"

"Of course we'll become friends. He'll choose me to be his first
calon-cyfaill."

"Kaw-lawn what the fuck?"

"Best friends forever. Heartmate and bondmate."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"I have you, Annie," Star said, another smile gracing his lips. But this one was warm and ripe with lusty possibilities.

"Me?" Annie shook her head, but stepped closer, surprising herself.
Great
--
his magic Word or whatever the fuck
it is doesn't work on me, but sex does. Lovely. Just. Lovely.
She couldn't stop wondering if his lips tasted like Dante's, amaretto sweet and heady. "No. No way. Keep me outta this. I just wanna protect Heather."

"You'll be sowing the seeds that'll allow Dante to open himself to me." A seductive whisper, Star's voice reeled her in.

Annie kept shaking her head. "No. No. No."

The fallen angel chuckled and the sound of it, musical and fluid and warm, poured through her mind and down her spine like heated oil. "But you're already in it, Annie."

He tipped her chin up with a talon, the point pressing delicately into her skin. "You need to do this for your sister. The
creawdwr
's beauty has bound her heart. You can free her, keep her safe. Plant the seeds, little mortal. Make Dante yearn for the Elohim. For his place among us. Then I will take over and make him yearn for me."

Annie chewed her lower lip. "Okay," she whispered.

"Close your eyes," Star said. His fingers settled on her temples. Hot hands. Dizziness whirled through Annie. "I'm going to find out how you resist my spells and I'm going to learn who your companions are and then I'm going to make you forget all of this so Dante doesn't pluck it out of your pretty little mind. But the seeds--those will remain--in your subconscious, your dreaming mind."

Annie closed her eyes, her heart kicking hard against her ribs. Splinters of ice shivved her mind and she gasped. Then everything disappeared in a blaze of molten heat and honeyed light as Star's lips pressed against hers and his hands began to peel off her clothes.

11
A NIGHTMARE BEYOND IMAGINING

OUTSIDE DAMASCUS, OR
THE WELLS/LYONS COMPOUND
March 25

EMMETT STEPPED PAST THE headless body on the dirt-streaked bed, his gaze drawn to the photos thumb-tacked to the walls. The same photo over and over. Dozens, maybe a hundred. Pictures of Dante Prejean in night-vision green/gray. Emmett studied the image, the vampire's rapt face, his closed eyes, the rays of pale light whipping around him.
From
him.

Emmett's skin prickled. What the hell was
that
?

What the hell.
His new catchphrase, used ad nauseam throughout the day. A catchphrase he heard repeated every few minutes by the jumpsuited techs prowling the compound grounds.

Emmett caught another rank whiff of decaying flesh, of mud and clotted blood, and his stomach rolled. Pulling out a stick of Vicks VapoRub from his pocket, he smeared more underneath his nose. The sharp scent of menthol burned through the stench--for now. No matter how many bodies he'd dealt with throughout his years in the SB, the smell always got to him. Sometimes it lingered in his nostrils for days, effectively murdering his appetite until the stench no longer haunted him.

"Where's the head?"

Emmett turned around to face Gillespie. The chief stood beside the bed, his gaze on the headless body dolled up in a blue, dirt-streaked nightie. A small black beetle scuttled from beneath the nightgown's neck.

"Damned good question," Emmett replied.

Gillespie's jaw moved as he chewed a wad of gum. He studied the dirt clods leading to the mud-streaked bed and the headless body that rested on it. "Looks like she was in the ground first. Someone dug her up."

Emmett took in the body's withered arms, the wasted flesh, the bony fingers half-curled into claws. "Doesn't look like any of our perps."

"I heard that Lyons's mother had cancer," Gillespie said.

Emmett nodded. "Could be her body, yeah. But I get a feeling it wasn't the cancer that killed her."

Gillespie sighed, scrubbing a hand back and forth over his scalp. "I get the same feeling." His hand dropped to his side, balled into a fist.

The chief looked tired, his eyes bloodshot behind his glasses. He chewed his gum with grim determination. Emmett wondered how much booze Gillespie had downed before being ordered to Damascus. Not enough, judging by the chief's weary expression.

"Looks like a high tide of madness rolled in over this place," Gillespie said.

"More like a goddamned tsunami of crazy, Chief. A tsunami of monumental proportion."

Gillespie's gaze skipped past Emmett to the Dante Prejean pinup-fest on the wall behind him. He nodded. "Yeah, you can say that again." He waited a beat before adding, "Where's your partner?"

"Outside," Emmett said with a nod toward the door. He knew Merri was watching the crew load up the stone-trapped Fallen for transport--to Alexandria, most likely. The Virginia facility was the SB's largest and best, equipped with state-of-the-art labs and detention facilities.

Gillespie's attention shifted back to Emmett, his gaze sharp.
Might be tired, might even be a bit soused, but looks like his mind's working fine.
"Do either of you have any theories about what happened here?"

"Nope. Wish I did."

"Any thoughts about the statues?"

"The level of craftsmanship is amazing," Emmett said. "But I haven't a clue on where they came from or who played Stonehenge with them."

"What does Goodnight think?"

Emmett trailed a hand through his hair and ordered his thoughts. Kept his voice thoughtful. "She thinks the statues are supposed to represent fallen angels. Something about the wings. But other than that ..." He shrugged.

Merri's words, spoken while standing in front of the white stone angel kneeling among the pines, sounded loud and clear in Emmett's mind.

Let's keep this just between us for right now. I'd like to talk to my
mere de sang
first, get her advice. This is huge, Em.

I know it's huge, but why keep it a secret from HQ?

Uncertainty flickers in Merri's eyes, her expression shadowed beneath the brim of her straw hat. She shakes her head, her words low, almost whispered: I don't know. I just feel it in my gut.

And that's all Emmett needs to know. He nods. Good enough.

Gillespie looked at Emmett for a long moment, his jaw working his gum fast and furious, then he said, "Walk with me. I've got an assignment for you and Goodnight."

"Sure, Chief."

Emmett followed Gillespie from the bedroom, through the cottage, and out into the gray morning drizzle. Gillespie paused on the front step, just underneath the roof overhang. Rain misted the air, fragrant with pine, and Emmett sucked in deep draughts, trying to clear the stench of death from his nostrils and the back of his throat.

A couple of techs walked the cave's perimeter, tapping in data on their handhelds. A semi with a WE MOVE U! slogan painted on the trailer was parked ass end toward the angelic Stonehenge, its doors wide open, a ramp extended from its interior like a metallic tongue.

A forklift loaded one of the stone angels into the trailer. Two yellow-jumpsuited men wrestled it into place inside the trailer.

Merri stood beside the ramp, her back to the cottage, her weight slung on one hip. Rain dripped from the brim of her hat, darkening the shoulders of her suede coat. She looked even smaller beside the semitrailer and the circle of stone angels, like a child. Smoke curled up into the air from the cigarette held between her fingers.

As though sensing his presence, Merri swiveled around in a graceful little twist of motion, her gleaming gaze catching his. Emmett tilted his head--
C'mere.

Merri nodded, took one last drag from her cigarette, then flicked it onto the wet grass. Breathing pale smoke into the air from between her lips, she strode across the ruined lawn to the cottage.

"Chief," she murmured as she joined them. "What's up?"

"The two of you will be escorting Sheridan to Alexandria for debriefing," Gillespie said. "A plane's waiting at Portland International. The sooner you get going, the better. Things are starting to heat up around here. Reporters. Nosy neighbors."

Emmett studied the camouflage netting strung over the entire site. "What about Sheridan's injury?"

"A medic will be flying with you," Gillespie said.

"The statues going to Alexandria too?" Merri asked.

Gillespie nodded. "Why the interest?"

"Plain ol' curiosity, Chief," Merri offered with a half shrug. "Never seen anything like them before."

Gillespie grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, Gore-Tex jacket rustling.

From the cave mouth a now-familiar song swirled into the air:
Holy, holy, holy.
A chill breathed against Emmett's neck. The techs circling the cave's mouth stopped, their bodies still and straight as they listened.

"What the hell
is
that, anyway?" Gillespie asked, voice tight.

Merri hugged herself as if cold. "Whatever it is, my advice is to leave it alone."

Gillespie looked at her. "Leaving it alone isn't one of my options, unfortunately. So if you know anything I don't, I want to hear it."

Merri's arms dropped to her sides. Leather creaked as her gloved hands curled into fists, then relaxed. "I saw something move down there," she said quietly. Her gaze slipped over to the cave's ragged rim. "It ... humped along like a slug or something. But large, y'know?" She looked at Gillespie. "It was just a glimpse."

"Duly noted," Gillespie said. He didn't look any happier now that he had additional info. He nodded toward the driveway. "Get going before more civilians stumble across the scene and Sheridan."

"We're on our way." Emmett glanced at Merri. "Ready, partner?"

"To get out of the rain and into a comfy jet with a wounded and whacked-out fed?" she murmured. "Bring it on, baby."

"Roger that," Emmett said, bumping his bare knuckles against Merri's gloved fist. A weary, buzzed-on-goddamned-stay-awake-pills smile brushed her lips.

He stepped out into the rain, Merri beside him, somehow managing--as always--to keep up with his long-legged stride. Cold rain trickled down the back of his neck as his windbreaker decided to prove it wasn't waterproof.

"Hey, let me have one of those clove cigarettes of yours," he said.

Merri snorted. "Man, it's gonna take more than that if you're hoping to go all hip and cool," she drawled. But understanding softened her expression and she handed him a slim, brown cigarette.