Inception (The Reaping Chronicles, 1) (31 page)

The white-haired woman began laughing, tossing her head back as she did. Javan studied her as the group conversed. The tugs on his memory were more urgent. There was clearly something he needed to remember about that house and the woman living in it.

He watched them finish their meal, and then the older woman cut and served her pie. The two teens and child began a game of tag. Now that they were out of earshot of the younger ones, the adults shifted the conversation to something more serious. At least, that was what their expressions and body language indicated.

They moved themselves into a tighter circle, leaning in toward each other. Javan guessed it was so they could speak privately. He was only able to see the older woman’s expression sporadically and only from just below her eyes up. He saw something in her eyes he recognized, and a memory from seventeen years ago burst forth.

His breath caught in his chest as images flooded back to him. Instinctively, his hand went to the left side of his face and traced the scar that ran jaggedly from his ear, down his jaw line and to the front and middle of his throat. He could almost hear the sizzle of his skin as the Sundering Whip grazed it and feel the awful, burning pain it caused. A growl rumbled in his throat as he replayed the image of the whip as it split his flesh.

Now he knew why the street, the house, and that woman were familiar to him. She was the one who came into the house when he killed Mason Hunt and his family.

“Bitch!”

He hissed the word as though it was as a weapon that could strike her down. The desire for revenge surged inside him, seeping into every part of his body, causing a rage of ideas for retribution to flood his mind.

“Your turn at the receiving end of a Sundering Whip is coming.”

He wanted his revenge on this angel to be slow and painful. He wanted her to experience the pain her strike had caused him on her own skin. He wanted her to suffer in ways she never imagined. He wanted to enjoy seeing her in agony in a place she could never be found.

I want the human living in your home who thinks he deserves to be with Gabrielle to join you in that eternal misery.

And once he became the Destroyer, he could ensure it
would
be eternal.

As he sat in his car, tossing early ideas for vengeance around in his mind, a crow passed his car and landed on a limb of the oak. He watched as it turned and looked directly at him—cawing once as if to say hello.

“Ahh … the messenger of the gods,” he said and laughed snidely. Then he repeated a counting rhyme he’d heard many, many years ago.

One crow for sorrow,

Two Crows for mirth,

Three Crows for a wedding,

Four Crows for a birth,

Five Crows for silver,

Six Crows for gold,

Seven Crows for a secret, not to be told,

Eight Crows for heaven,

Nine Crows for hell,

And ten Crows for the devil’s own self.

Before he finished the rhyme, more crows joined the first one in the large oak. They were all turned toward his car, their eyes fixed on him. Javan counted the birds. When he finished, he said the number aloud.

“Nine.”

Another crow landed on the driver’s side windshield wiper of Javan’s car. It studied Javan, then spread its wings as it lowered its head and cawed.

“Ten.” Javan smirked. “Hello back
.
”

Chapter Forty-eight

Lucas ~ No Escape

Lucas took in the scenery as Gabby pulled onto a small side street flanked by large, two and three story brick and stone homes. Some looked as if they were small hotels, and others were lined with hedges so high he was barely able to see the houses as they passed. The driveways became further apart as the property sizes grew larger.

After driving several more blocks, she finally turned into a driveway between some of those high hedges. The towering shrubs weren’t able to hide the structure behind them anymore.

“Wow …”

The house was massive. Americans would have classified it as a mansion. The grounds were perfectly groomed, and he saw a sizeable garden behind it. From what he could tell, there was a maze hedge, as well.

Gabby pulled around the circular driveway until she stopped at the steps to the front door, ignoring the spaces right next to them for parking. Lucas looked at them with a puzzled expression.

Gabby glanced at Lucas. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in response to his unspoken question. “They aren’t accustomed to day visitors, and I assure you, we’ll be half way back to London before the sun even gets close to the horizon. I’m not taking any more chances than needed.” She shot him a perturbed look. “Unlike some of us.”

They got out of the car and Lucas waited for Gabby before continuing up the steps. The butterflies he had in his stomach when they were leaving Nashville were now more like full-grown condors. It didn’t help his apprehensive feelings or nervous stomach when a crow drifted down and landed on the roof above the entry, then another did the same with every step they took.

“Seriously,” Lucas began, “I’m beginning to get completely freaked out by the crows. Does it mean something?” He looked at her, then back to the crows. As usual, they were staring back.

Gabby’s expression was troubled. She didn’t take her eyes off the birds as she responded, looking at each of them as if she were counting. When she finished her assessment her brows drew closer together.

“You don’t want to know, Lucas.”

Yeah … I probably don’t.

The front door opened before they climbed the last step, and Lucas found himself even more apprehensive about looking at who—
what
—opened it. Gabby put her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“She’s human.”

He looked up and saw an attractive blond holding the door open for them. With her hazel eyes, full, red lips, and model looks, she would have turned most men’s heads.

She would have turned mine, too, over a month ago.

Though now that he’d met Gabby and fallen for her, he couldn’t imagine anyone holding a candle to her in any way. Now the most he thought of this woman was that she was attractive. The blond looked at Gabby and then him, moving her eyes slowly over his body. When she found his eyes, a flirtatious smile spread across her face.

“Welcome.” Her eyes stayed on Lucas as they entered the house. “The Elders are expecting you.” The Elders’ greeter stayed several steps behind Gabby and him, but he could feel her eyes on him, anyway. They paused at the end of the long entry until the woman could move ahead to guide them.

Gabby seemed oblivious to the opulent surroundings. Lucas could only imagine how this must pale in comparison to the things she’d experienced. As they continued walking in silence, Lucas wondered what it must be like to live the life she had, thinking back to their conversation about how different things were for them when he was at her home in Nashville.

Right before her vision about the attack. From vampires like I am about to meet.
Vampires
, for crying out loud.

Lucas shook his head slightly as he thought about what he was doing and how the differences between the lives he and Gabby had lived—would continue to live—were becoming more apparent with every day they spent together.

More distinct than Lucas wanted to face.

Unlike Gabby, he was impressed with the Elders’ home, to say the least. Paintings, some he recognized from his fine arts class, adorned the walls in both rooms that flanked either side of the entry. He guessed that at least some of them were authentic. The room to the right must have been intended for a sitting room, but the velvet covered couches and chairs didn’t show signs of wear. He wondered if they had ever been used at all.

Heavy burgundy drapes hung from windows at least ten feet high, the fabric pulled back and pooled on the floor. Lucas studied the floor for several seconds. He’d never seen wood like that and wondered what exotic place it had been shipped in from. He was about to turn his attention to the room on the left when their escort interrupted his pondering.

“This way.”

She led them down a hall to the right, but it was more like a large, long room.

He laughed to himself.
This
hall
is bigger than my entire house.

She stopped at two massive wooden doors stained a rich mahogany that were intricately carved with what seemed to be Biblical scenes. It wasn’t what Lucas expected. Then again, he’d never been in a vampire’s house, so he shouldn’t be expecting anything at all.

With noticeable effort, she pushed the doors open, exposing another very large room. This one was much darker than the ones he’d just seen. The walls were paneled in the same shade of mahogany as the doors, and the wood floor was stained almost black. The lights in the room were covered by large, thick, maroon shades that bathed the room in a deep red hue, and the seating was dark brown leather. There were four oversized sofas, two facing each other on each side of an enormous stone fireplace that he could easily walk into with height to spare.

A generous fire burned lazily, lighting the area in a golden light, teasing the red hue the lamps cast as the flames licked at the surrounding air, making its light dance further in and out of the room. It mesmerized Lucas until a loud pop came from the burning wood, breaking the spell. He laughed at himself quietly, trying to calm his nerves, and continued to take in the layout of the room as though it would help if he needed a fast escape.

Between the sofas were three large round tables, again in an exotic dark stained wood, with wide flower arrangements on them that were low enough that they wouldn’t interfere with people’s—
vampire’s
—ability to see the other side. The walls displayed several oversized paintings of people from a long ago era.

Hmm.

He looked around the walls of the room again.

No windows. So much for escape options.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” The greeter remained focused only on Lucas, making him uncomfortable. “I’ll let them know you’re here.” Before she left, she turned and motioned to a small bar area. “There are some fine Brandy and Scotch choices if you’d care for anything to drink.” She shut the heavy doors behind her.

“Jeez!” Lucas said in a slightly exasperated tone.

Gabby put her finger to her lips. He did as she wanted and said nothing else while they waited in silence for the Elders.

They didn’t have to wait long. Lucas heard the doors begin to open again and then saw Gabby stand to face them. Lucas mimicked her and stood, as well—prepared to meet creatures he’d once thought were only of peoples’ imaginings.

As the first Elder entered the room, the light from the fireplace seemed to reach further toward the doors as if to greet her. Although the fire’s golden light was what reflected off the vampire’s eyes, all Lucas could see was red.

Chapter Forty-nine

Javan ~ An Obstacle

Javan left the cozy scene on Haber Drive as soon as they all went into the house. Now that he remembered what happened in Lucas’s home, he couldn’t block the memory from his mind. It was like the replay button was stuck. Back in his loft, sitting comfortably on his patio with nothing to concern him except the cool breeze carried to him through the dark of night and the glass of whiskey in his hand, he allowed the images to consume his thoughts—letting his mind drift back seventeen years.

He’d been following the family around for a couple of weeks, waiting for his chance to eliminate Mason Hunt and his bloodline. It was Mara who told Javan about Mason’s lineage being related to either the arrival, or destruction, of the Destroyer. The angel who’d been sent to protect Mason was a Cherubim, just as Mara had been before she was cast from Heaven.

As soon as he heard the reason the man was being protected, Javan made the decision to kill Mason. But finding him had proved to be more difficult than Javan had originally thought. It took almost two decades to find him. When he did, he realized he would have to eliminate Mason’s daughter and grandson, too.

It took several more weeks of constant snooping, eavesdropping, and spying by him and Mara before he was satisfied that Mason had no other descendants. It was just the three of them. His opportunity to kill all three at once came when Mason’s daughter, Hannah, brought her child to Mason’s home.

He’d arrived at the house, simply walked up to the door, and knocked. Mason answered the door himself, but before he could speak, Javan thrust him into the wall fifteen feet behind him. Mason hit hard enough to shake the walls of the house, then landed on the floor. Instinctively, Javan knew death would consume Mason quickly and diverted his attention to the stunned audience.

Hannah’s husband, Stephen, was next. Javan hadn’t planned on killing Stephen, but he lunged at him. If he’d just sat and continued staring blankly, Javan would have let him live.

Maybe
.

But he had to try and be the hero. He died from a broken neck.

Hannah died a little slower. Javan smirked at the memory. She’d started screaming that he would be punished by God, that he was going to go to Hell.

Blah, blah, blah.

Javan suffocated her, covering her mouth and nose with his hand. But he didn’t let her die until she watched the life drain out of her infant son’s face first—tears had streamed out of her eyes faster than Javan knew was possible.

Then the angel came.

He knew as soon as she walked through the door what she was and that others would be coming. As he turned to the back door to exit, he felt the whip hit his face, then the burning of its scorching fibers as it sliced easily through his flesh. He was able to flee before he found himself out-numbered. As he vanished into the night, the angel in the house released a shrill scream.

It had taken nine months for his face to heal. The jagged scar often burned as though still fresh. But that’s what happens when a weapon designed for an angel is wielded. Not many angels could use the Sundering Whip. It took a great deal of practice and skill to use one with desired results. Javan knew the angel was talented in its use. If he’d been even slightly closer to her, the whip would have made quick work of removing his head from his body.

Recalling the incident made the scar burn again, feeding his desire for revenge. Javan could have acquired a new body, one without the scar, but he rather liked the visual reminder of his first accomplishment on his path to becoming the most powerful and worshiped being in the universe. He never expected to find that angel again. He never imagined he might be able to settle the score. He now entertained the many ways he wanted her to suffer, but he knew he’d have to be careful.

Javan began to wonder more about her, why she was not one of the Fallen, but also clearly not an active angel. She was aging.

Why is she hanging around?

Regardless, he had to keep in mind
he
was
one of the Fallen, and because of that, he was weakened. Since she wasn’t damned, he didn’t know how much of her power Yahuwah had allowed her to keep. She kept at least one of her weapons, and there was no telling how many others she could use against him.

It was getting dark. He wondered where Lucas had been all day. Gabrielle’s car hadn’t been in her driveway when he drove by on his way from, or back, to his loft. They were together—he knew they were. He felt the familiar mixture of rage and jealousy that sprang to life inside him anytime he thought of that
boy
with Gabrielle. His blood felt like it expanded in his veins, his pulse echoing in his head. It was maddening.

Who was Lucas to the angel on Haber Drive?

He’d have to do some digging himself, and through the use of others, to get his answers.

He parked his car in the loft’s garage and entered the elevator. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, he saw Mara sitting by his door.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked.

“I could ask the same of you.” He smiled. An added glare showed it wasn’t friendly. “But since we aren’t each other’s keeper, fuck off.”

Javan opened the door and walked in, leaving Mara behind to close it.

“Lock it, Mara.”

He felt her eyes on him as he walked away—studying him.

“Since when do you lock the door?”

Javan sighed in an exaggerated fashion and threw his keys on the kitchen counter.

“Since
when
, Mara, do you find it necessary to play twenty questions with me? I want the door locked from now on. Period.”

Javan poured them both a drink. He needed her loosened up and tipsy so she didn’t have her radar scanning him or his loft so thoroughly. “Drink up. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Mara took the drink hesitantly from Javan, who smiled at her over the top of his glass, and drank his in one big swallow. Mara followed suit. He was sure she could tell he planned on getting her drunk right along with him.

She set her glass back down, and he poured them both another large shot, then took his glass and the bottle of tequila to the couch, flipping on the TV. The news was reporting the sad discovery of a police officer who had apparently committed suicide. A smile moved across Javan’s face and he turned the volume down.

“I already know how that story ends.” He focused his scowl back on her.

He had so much on his mind, and the last thing he needed to concern himself with was the local news. All he wanted to do right now was tell Mara what he needed from her, and then have her get the hell out of his way.

And out of my loft.

“Mara, I’m going to need you to be out a lot this week gathering information.”

There was another reason he needed her to be as scarce as possible for at least the next week, but she didn’t need to know about the impending visit from Cecily. Especially since he was looking forward to spending some more time with his new Qalal friend.

“Sure. What do you need me to find out?”

“I need you to do some research into the background of Lucas and that woman he lives with. I don’t know what her name is, but I’d venture a guess you know Lucas’s full name, so start there.”

“Sure, it’s Watkins. Why?”

He shot Mara a look, causing her to flinch.

This can’t be happening.

“Mara … how
old
is Lucas?” The name, Watkins, was Mason’s daughter’s last name.

He could see Mara trying to figure out why it triggered such a hostile response and maybe wondering what her next answer might bring out of him. Cautiously, she responded.

“Seventeen. He’ll be eighteen sometime in April. I can’t remember the date.”

Javan stared at the TV, but he didn’t see its images. All he saw was the scene from seventeen years ago, the baby Hannah held in her arms—the one she cried over as she watched him die.

Time seemed to stop as he realized he may not have succeeded in destroying Mason Hunt’s bloodline, after all. He could see Mara trying to say something to him, but he didn’t hear her. Instead, he heard his pulse echoing in his head again, thrumming loudly past his ears. As he contemplated his probable failure, he felt an inhuman growl begin deep inside him, coming from depths he didn’t know his hate and anger could reach. As the reality of who Lucas most likely was took root in his mind, added to Gabrielle’s relationship with him, Javan’s heart raced. Darkness caused by rage closed in around his vision. All he could see was that worthless
boy.
Lucas had
just been in the way of him getting his love back. Now, he was a huge obstacle on his path to becoming the Destroyer.

An obstacle I am going to take
immense
pleasure in eliminating.

With a guttural sound escaping his body, unleashed into the freedom of his loft, a second glass in as many days shattered—destroyed in the hand of the demon imagining Lucas’s death.