Forbidden (23 page)

“You mean they can’t walk the earth like us?”

“Not as humans, yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” He shrugged. “Personally, I think they died out, and only the legend remains. It has been centuries since anyone has reported a Turn.”

The idea of Michael turning Grigori—of being trapped in the spirit world—was slowly threading its way through their thoughts. It would easily account for his behavior, and Michael could sense his brothers searching for excuses to support him.

“I’ve never even seen a Grigori in the spirit realm. It’s probably impossible to Turn anymore,” Raph said.

“Highly unlikely, at any rate,” Gabe offered.

“Sophia still could be a test from the Halos,” Raph continued, and Gabe agreed.

“Yes! Of course! And we haven’t discounted that she might be some demon’s vessel! I mean, theoretically, she could be any number of things.” There was hope in their arguments until Michael scowled at them.

“That’s enough!” He stalked across the bridge and stopped beneath the giant tree in the center of the garden. “Sophia is not a test or a vessel or turning me into a Grigori with forbidden emotions,” he said, eyeing the branches above. Then he lifted an arm, gently rising thirty feet off the ground and coming to rest on a thick branch. He looked down through his dangling feet. “You’re forgetting that we have three very powerful, very unpredictable demons living among us. Something we’ve never had to deal with before. Our energy level and intuition are reaching volcanic proportions. Raph, even you’ve come close to attacking Wolfgang several times. You’re having trouble controlling your energy, just like I am. If you think about it, it has to be natural. I mean, hell, we’re forced to sit around and wait while three Demon Knights stalk our friends.” He hesitated, giving them time to deliberate his alternative reasoning. It was the only explanation he was willing to give.

He just hoped they would buy it.

Gabe raised his arms, drifting across the narrow waterway to land softly at the base of the tree. His face was flushed with renewal and hope. “You’re right, Michael. We’re all in uncharted waters, so to speak. We don’t know what effect three powerful Demon Knights could have on us.”

Michael exhaled his tension, happy for the reprieve. He needed their faith, their trust, if only to bide time until he could resolve this issue himself. He still had no answer for the mysterious second heartbeat he felt when Sophia was near. He had no understanding of her strange aura, which encompassed enough colors to fill a rainbow.

Raph flashed unseen across the stream and appeared on the branch above
Michael. He emanated a strong sense of doubt.

“You better be right,” Raph murmured, destroying Michael’s smile. “So as long as you haven’t acquired the second forbidden emotion,
desire
, we don’t have anything to worry about, right?” His question was more of a challenge, and Michael knew that Raph was searching for an emotional reaction, a spike in his energy. Anything to give him away.

Michael cleaned his slate, his emotions retracting with enormous effort. He wouldn’t take the bait.

“Stay away from her, Michael,” Raph whispered. “If not for us and our duty, for yourself. Promise.”

“I promise,” Michael whispered on reflex, and then closed his eyes against the pain wracking his heart.

Chapter 22

Dante

The dead-end alley was long and narrow and shadowed by apartment buildings. A crummy Laundromat with barred windows sat on the left corner, opposite an all-night convenient store. Bawling infants behind grimy windows filled the bulk, and the air reeked of public toilet.

The Demon Knights were too proud to be lurking in skanky shadows like evil forces in some poorly imagined, low-budget horror flick. In fact, they wouldn’t have been mussing their fine Italian leather jackets and boots if not for Santiago’s strange comment. The kid said he saw Degan the soul seeker lurking around Haven Hurst’s football game and had struck up a conversation. Degan mentioned that, aside from scrounging for freak accident victims, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the human girl who could see into the spirit world.

Santiago, an underling, hadn’t realized the significance of Degan’s statement. But when he’d repeated it to the Knights, they demanded to know everything Degan had said. Who was the girl? Where did she live? Unfortunately, Santiago hadn’t cared enough to ask. But he did know where Degan planned to be around midnight—the parking lot of the Grab ’N Go convenience store.

It was ten after, and Wolfgang felt Impatience jonesing for a fight. “How much longer are we going to wait?” he growled, looking around the alley for something to destroy. He extended a hand and concentrated on a rusty can from a garbage heap. The can jerked, wobbled into the air, and he batted it away without touching it. The can crashed into a third-story window and shattered the glass. A woman shrieked in the dark and a light flicked on. A man appeared at the broken window.

“What the hell?” the man hollered down at the four black figures in the alley.

“Hey!” Vaughn yelled up. “Go back to bed!”

“Naw, come on down, I’m bored,” Wolfgang coaxed with a sinister smile. “If you want to know what Hell is all about, come on down.”

The man pushed a pair of thick glasses onto his pale face and leaned out the window frame. The moon illuminated his face like a searchlight. “You have to pay for the damage!”

“Of course I do,” Wolfgang called up jovially. “Come down here and I’ll give you everything I have. I promise.” He laughed and cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

“I’m coming! You stay right there!” The man turned to leave but stopped and stared at Dante. Pale green eyes dilated until they were solid black, as Dante gently released his demon to hypnotize the man.

“Hey, get out of his head!” Wolfgang chided. “He’s mine!”

Persuasion’s manipulation was too efficient, and before Wolfgang could intercede, the man shut off the light and returned to bed.

“We are not looking for trouble, Wolf.” Dante blinked out of the trance, his eyes sizzling back to pale green. He inhaled, sounding tired, and rotated his neck sideways. “Keep your demon under control or—”

“Or what?” Wolfgang snarled, feeling antsy.

Screeching tires along the wet pavement interrupted their impending argument. The demons and Santiago emerged from the alley to find a beater Honda Civic parked sideways on the curb outside the convenience store. The driver stayed inside while two guys climbed out, skinny teenagers weighed down by oversized jeans and jackets and guns. One wore a ski mask and the other a baseball cap and mirrored shades.

The guy with glasses turned and looked at them. “Beat it, man!” he warned. “This ain’t none a ya biznus!”

The teens threw nervous looks around and then strutted into the store.

“What do you think?” Vaughn asked, and Dante considered.

“Let’s go in spirit form. It’ll pass the time until Degan shows up.” Each demon took a deep breath and started up the sidewalk. They faded by degrees until they were invisible to the human eye. Then they exhaled carbon dioxide from their lungs and blinked oxygen out of their eyes. The transition back to spirit form was flawless, as all traces of human elements were purged from their bodies. They adjusted their eyesight and continued to walk in a smooth rhythm that defied movement.

Dante led them into the store, stopped on the dirty white linoleum, and immediately heard a resounding
boom
behind him. Santiago had missed the doorway and smashed into the glass wall. He was stumbling backward and holding his head.

“Has he made the transition before?” Dante asked.

“Apparently not.” Vaughn laughed.

“Well, why didn’t somebody tell him what to do?” Dante sighed, frustrated.

Santiago was walking sideways and blindly reaching out at nothing. He was babbling and sounding like he’d sucked helium. He bumped into the ice bin and swung haphazardly like he was being attacked. He would be disoriented until his system was
clean.

“He looks like an idiot,” Dante said. “Take care of him, Vaughn. And keep him out of my way.”

His attention back on the store, Dante surveyed the interior: rows of typical fried munchies in a bag, chocolates entombed in plastic, cavities on a stick. A slushy machine was rotating neon blue and red ice. There were no customers at this hour so the guy in the ski mask walked the aisles, stuffing various sundry items into his coat pockets. The guy in the baseball cap and sunglasses stood at the counter with a gun aimed at the clerk.

The man behind the counter was Jamael Kingston, a twenty-two-year-old college student from Biloxi on a partial scholarship to Yale. He had cropped black hair and dark-rimmed glasses. His hands were raised and trembling against the gunman.

“C’mon, man, you don’t wanna do this,” Jamael said.

The guy in the cap punched his gun in the air. “I said open the safe!”

“It’s midnight, man. They don’t keep anything in there.”

“Open it or I’m gonna unload! I swear!”

Jamael pushed aside a Doritos display and revealed a small gray safe embedded in the wall. The digital readout said
LOCKED
. Jamael was nervous and punched the wrong numbers on the keypad. He had to start over.
I can’t believe this is happening! I thought I was out of this shit! Climbed out of the projects and still have to deal with this shit!

Wolfgang lounged on the counter next to the baseball cap guy and called Dante over. “Come here and watch this.”

Wolfgang’s eyes sizzled as his demon stirred. He concentrated on the guy in the cap. “Hey, you look like a fool in that hat. Take it off.” He paused and repeated, “You really,
really
want to take off that hat.” The guy fidgeted, dragging a sleeve under his nose. He hesitated and then whipped off the cap and dropped it. Wolfgang raised his arms like, “Tah dah!” and flashed a triumphant grin. “Hat to floor in less than five seconds!”

Dante blinked, unimpressed.

Not letting himself be discouraged, Wolfgang leaned in toward the guy’s ear. “You
really
want to take off those sunglasses.” Within seconds the glasses were removed.

The ski mask guy in the back of the store hollered, “Dude, whutcha doing? They got cameras and shit!” Overhead, a surveillance camera was aimed at the counter, a red light flashing. The guy up front scrambled after the baseball cap and glasses.

“Aw, shit! I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’!”

Wolfgang threw back his head, laughing. Dante was mildly amused and wondered if Santiago had sent them on a wild moron chase.

“Let’s go,” Dante mumbled, but Wolfgang’s demon had shifted the compulsion to Jamael. The clerk turned from the safe and felt for the 9mm hidden under the counter. He knew it wasn’t worth the risk but he had an urge to go for it. He wanted to show these punks that he wouldn’t take their shit.
I can do it! It’s right there! I can grab it and blow them away!

By now, baseball cap guy was yelling and waving the gun. He pistol-whipped Jamael in the head, and pain exploded across Jamael’s scalp. Warm blood oozed from the cut and he grabbed his head, doubling over in agony. Jamael looked over at the gun resting on a stack of napkins.

Three blue bursts of light flashed outside the store as Michael, Raph, and Gabe appeared in spirit form twenty feet above the parking lot. With arms fanned out, the sharp fetching along their forearms eased their landing and then retracted. Michael’s glittering eyes swept the area. Vaughn and Santiago were standing near the ice machine by the open door. Inside were Dante, Wolfgang, and three humans.

“Well, well.” Vaughn chuckled. “If it isn’t Larry, Moe, and Squirrely.” Santiago snickered. The guardians ignored them both, and filed into the store.

Dante didn’t get the reference and lounged against the counter, posturing his amusement at the interruption. He and Wolfgang watched dispassionately as the guardians assessed the human souls like detectives working a case.

“Aren’t you boys a little too far south of Heaven?” Dante sneered.

Michael split his attention between the demons and the clerk. Jamael was struggling behind the counter, dizzy and angry. Pain radiated from his head and he wanted to go for the weapon but was afraid to make any sudden moves. Trembling, he returned to work on the safe.

“You know you’re wasting your time here, Dante,” Michael said tightly. “If you need a fix like some low-life soul junkie, there’s a couple of rats in the garbage you could snatch.” His smile was emotionless against Dante’s smirk.

Outside, a warm gust of wind carried the faint scent of sulfur. “Hey, Degan!” Santiago called, having completed the transition back to spirit form.

The soul seeker was striding across the parking lot in his familiar grungy clothes. The sulfur aroma did not belong to him but to his companion, Teriza, a veteran reaper of five centuries. Teriza was nearly six feet tall in three-inch black suede Jimmy Choo boots. She sauntered up wearing a black leather Dolce & Gabbana miniskirt and a red Brazilian bikini top. A leather strap crossed her chest and supported a quiver slung against her back. A black belt with a diamond-studded buckle that read
GRIM
rode low on her round hips. She carried a pair of matching daggers, one strapped to each thigh. A long
black whip was coiled against her right hip, and black iron manacles clamped her wrists. Each hand bore the mark of her Master burned into her flesh.

All in all, Teriza considered herself a simple girl who absolutely adored a good fight against greedy soul seekers or the occasional spirit walker who challenged her for souls. Degan was more like a kid brother who tagged along to watch her snatch souls. It was often theatrical and highly entertaining.

Teriza tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and slid into Vaughn’s arms. They hugged hello, but she was already distracted; a sapphire aura emanating from inside the store had stirred her dark energy. Michael Patronus had come. She was pleasantly surprised and strolled inside with mischief in each step.

“My goodness, there hasn’t been a spiritual gathering like this since Babylon.” She giggled and batted her solid black eyes. “For moi?”