Retribution, Devotion (25 page)

“You seem in a rut, my dear,” an amused male voice whispered against her ear.

Goddammit!
She did not have time for this. Of course, he would find a way toward her. “Hello, Lord Jacques.”

“Princess. It is good to see you and a shock that your Harpy is nowhere near. Who was that human you found yourself looking for?”

“My next meal, if you'll excuse me. I have a man to suck and eat.” Rushing past him, she huffed.

She did not have time for his banter today, which was shocking for her. She usually always was interested in spitting blades with him but right now a human had her high and that was not something she could accept.

“Of course. Maybe later, if I'm still around and not checking on my old property, you and I can pick up where we left off. Enjoy your dinner,” Jacques cajoled.

“I hate your laugh!” Reina spewed out and disappeared, her hunt underway as more people swarmed around her.

Hours later, nails scraped the wide span of a broad, muscular back before sinking their stiletto length into taut flesh, cutting deeply. Erratic heated moans lifted and filled the looming corridor of the intricate hallway. Sharp tears of fabric and the repeated pounding of flesh slipping in and out of each other rent the air with both the sweet and spicy scent of a male and a woman. The sharp intake of breaths becoming continued pants stopped with a loud release and a final grunt marked the end of the intimate display. Red splashed then dripped in tendrils into an ominous pool. Music seemingly made its gleaming surface vibrate with its tune. Its warm, sweet velvet liquid slowly seeped over the creamy tan marbled floor and flowed toward a pair of spiked golden-toned open-toed Louboutin Pigalili stilettos.

“M'lady? Princess?”

A deep voice resonated near her as she held her dinner between her fanged clenched mouth. It was like this for her every time she fed. She'd zone out and lose her awareness, which was why she always kept her protector near at all cost. The loud thump of a heavy mass reverberated down the hall of the hotel where she resided, making her look down at the crumpled male at her feet.

Delicately stepping upon the chest of the corpse in front of her, she huffed and lifted her golden draped trail attached to her golden dress. It showed off her sculpted soft thighs and long glistening legs. The dampness between her lush thighs made her drop into a crouch on the body to retrieve a handkerchief and move to a clear spot as she wiped his seed and her juices from between her. A simple black card fell and floated in the blood near the body, making her narrow her eyes to read the silver inlaid script:
Mikael Lawson {Atlanta, GA}.

“Take him and feed him to the dogs. They'll enjoy his flesh as much as his polluted soul. Then put him in the wall.”

The mention of that holding cell, a place humans called Purgatory, made her own supple flesh crawl. Her skin felt it was crawling as she threw the white cloth she held over the body and studied him. The sound of her protection gargoyles taking the body away, their mouths suddenly dripping in hunger from the meal she had gifted them with, instantly irritated her. A disgusted huff formed in her throat as she watched her demonic pets drop to their knees and lap at the blood, cleansing the area from any evidence of anything going on.

Something in the way the blood pooled made her lost in its glossy surface. The pulsing beat of her dark husk of a heart made her stumble forward and move down the hallway away from the party her father had demanded she oversee. Music thumped over her, instantly adding to the forming headache she was having and shifting vision plaguing her senses.
What was in that bastard's blood?

A click of additional heels made her look up and she gave a quick smile.

“My pet, Medusa?” Reina languidly asked. The image before her hazy stare made her blink, once, then twice at the curvaceous body walking her way and stood in a fear that unexpectedly had her gripping the side of the walls.

Nydia?
She found herself screaming in her mind. The fact that her pet was mingling with other Cursed representatives at the ballroom was forgotten on her as the indescribable body inched closer. A dipping undulating of the marble floor and walls around her made her footing unstable and hard for her to pull out her blades and she couldn't understand any of this. She was trained beyond the usages of blades; and whatever that was coming from her instantly washed in clearing white light drowned her nose in sweet lilac and honeysuckle and made her swing out against the affront.

“This game you are playing will not be allowed, Nydia!” she screamed in crazed confusion.

The moment she swung forward, that body dropped into a low crouch to come forward. A hand covered in matching gold rings and a filigree braided chain jeweled glove, slammed over her face, covering her mouth and nose to drop her in a slow backward fall. With that hand, the mirror of her own features followed and her eyes widened at that familiar face. It smiled lovingly at her before shifting into a contorted darkness with soul-tearing pupils that reminded her of the Reaper, the Sin Eater: her cousin.

The simple word
“No,”
softly tore into her mind. She fell backward by that hand that pushed her to the ground then straddled her.

“Momma,” Reina sputtered out, paralyzed in her mind and that face bowed her moving head then her hand to kiss her temple. The sound of the blades that came out too late falling to the marble floor clattered in sad disarray.

“Remember your place. Remember you are mine, not your father's, but mine, and His. Remember what you did and what you promised. As was before, shall be again,”
the woman said.

With those simple words, Reina seemed to watch from the side of her body as her mother tore her heart from her body, covering its decrepit husk with threads of entwining white light, making it turn red and plump with life.

The instant it pulsed with a beat, a charge hit her and set her flying into darkness and light. Reina saw everything that happened with that male was nothing but her mind twisting her reality. None of it had happened and all of it triggered by her dead mother. Fury made her reach out to her mother in one last failed attempt, but the final image was of black wings ripping from her mother's back. She locked in on those piercing orbs of knowledge and truth, pupils of a Sin Eater, which left her paralyzed in shock. Fear made Reina scream and fight for a life she never knew she had to a right in claiming. All the while, those threads of light cut through the light and covered her in a blanket, sending Reina into the deepest recesses of her mind.

 

I am the scorn. The deceiver. The vilified. Number two in the line of people who brought a plight to the human race. Titles of hatred I wear due to my own weak resolve. Thirty pieces of silver were my reward for my betrayal. My name remembered with those who brought shame unto the human race. Nevertheless, before that, I was just a man. A devoted disciple, gifted with extended knowledge of protecting the coinage of the One Son until I was made tainted by that silver's promise.

Before that, I was just an innocent businessman. My tribulations were as any other, yet it was the teachings I heard from other men and women, scholars who were called Disciples that changed my life. I was drawn to them instantly and it was that meeting with the One Son, a man who instantly felt like family, a brother who made me accept my place as a fellow Disciple. He welcomed me.

In his tutelage, I learned that several of his scholars were legends in the flesh and that my wife and children carried the same gifts, which was why they accompanied me and why I instantly felt safe with them. I gave up my old home to travel and learn with these fellow Disciples. Absorbing the teachings as if it were bread and water. I was at peace with being the treasurer to the One Son and assisting in his healing help to those lost by the hands of the enemy.

My travels were wondrous and I saw breathing myths. Men and women who were called Dragons from the far East, some from Egypt, as well. Trusted protectors, whom the One Son entrusted with his Word and who assisted in preserving his Word. Those were peaceful times until we came home. Whispers of Nephilim, a word used in tandem with demons, began following us.

Traitors, liars, killers, also followed us. Danger surrounded us at every turn and it became hard to protect our families. Those Disciples with divine gifts, including my children and wife, who passed the gifts to them, had to go into hiding and I became scared. It was indoctrinated in us all to never to allow such fear into our hearts because the enemy whom we fought, the ones who tainted the good name of Nephilims, could creep in and twist our psyche. I wish I had listened.

I recall being ordered to meet the chief priests of the land before the grand Supper. My wife and children had gone to her family and I was left in our home. Like everyone in the towns and cities we traveled through, the One Son was wanted as were we and we vowed to keep our families safe. As did the One Son and the Angels who followed him as Disciples, as well.

We prepared for any dangers that may have come our way and we sent many families into hiding. Everywhere I went I saw demons watching us in the flesh of humans who gave way to their sins. Every night I prayed for the nation's safety with that of my children until it came to the day of the Supper. I remember sitting in my home thinking of my family as I readied for the night gathering. I should have gone with them, for it was that night when the chief priests invaded my home. Three men came into my modest home. These men dressed in opulent attire stifled me with their power. I knew as I stared into their pupils that they were pure evil, but I was forced to stay where I sat.

“You are a follower of the treacherous Messiah?” was asked of me by a man whose face I recalled. He was the Iberian Roman general and soon to be King Caius Grete. He was as was told by the locals. As tall as a giant with dark, long hair that curled around his neck. Eyes dark as soot but a face as handsome as sin. One glance from him and my soul was open to fear and it was if he knew and fed from it. A madness seemed to choke at me due to his look and I tried to remember the faces of his partners. It was hours that I sat locked in my home with them. I fought them and tried to make them leave but to no reprieve. Those two silent men, who seemed to guide General Grete, eventually threatened my safety.

The hood fell back from one and I almost tumbled backward. He was divine. His features golden and perfect, eyes of many hues, a smile of sunlight and I knew that he was related to the One Son yet he wasn't. My heart quaked and whispered to me, as this man calmly spoke in a voice that felt like silk. His hand brushed my own and I felt sinful lust and engulfing hatred at that moment. I never felt such before and it burned me great. This man was a fallen Angel. The ruler of hell.

I was instantly condemned. The third cloaked figure poured us cups full of a dark wine that stunk of sweetness and sulfur. It was then that the devil himself handed me the cups as General Grete coaxed me into the drink.

“Thirty pieces of silver will be your reward if you tell us where your Messiah is. If you tell us, your family will go free.”

This for me was my moment of failure when darkness crept into my heart. Fear tore at me, but I still fought. I fought until the third cloaked figure dropped his hood and stared into my soul. His head was bald and he shone with an odd power of his own. He wore a branding on his wrist in the shape of two twisted interlocked S's and he simple stated, “You want to do this and you will do this to keep your brothers safe. You know we will never harm thee. Thus is your birthright.”

I was drowning and I felt my world turn apart. It was then that I heard myself pledge myself to General Grete. I kissed his rings and I felt a nick, no a bite, on my wrist. The General looked down at me with blood around his lips: my blood. My vision then was overcome by sinewy rotting wings as the two men he came with disappeared like dark mists.

Coldness with that of a sudden sickness took me over and my path was set.

I still tasted that sickening wine they gave me coating my mouth like oil. I tasted it at the Supper. I tasted it when I found myself betraying my divine brothers and I tasted it when those cold coins lay in my hands. That taste. That acidic, vile, sulfuric taste.

It followed me to my wife's family home where I saw them slaughtered. Demons hovered over them, their very souls ripped from them as the mark of General Grete lay branded into their skulls. This was my punishment and I understood that it was time for me to meet them for my deception. That silver. My faith. My life. All torn from me.

It was suddenly easy to allow the rope to wrap around my neck. It was easy then to fall for my sins as I asked for forgiveness again. The One Son had known this would happen, but he did not stop me. I finally understood why. I had to learn to see Him in my soul, fight as I had and fall all the same. I started a humble man and died a legend. I betrayed and I vowed that I would set it right. I prayed with my last breath that I would set it right.

The sound of “Life is a Highway” incessantly rang near his side. Accompanying it was the irritating clicking of typing that followed right behind it. Khamun stopped his pacing to glance at his boy Calvin while he tapped at his cell, cursing and scowling at it. His boy had serious frown lines etched in his forehead and around his mouth. As of late, since capturing the Medusa a week ago, Calvin's cell had been buzzing or ringing nonstop with intel from the Medusa. From what he shared with Khamun, other times it was annoying texts such as:

Khamun could only laugh. From the anguished look in his boy's emerald irises, Khamun could tell already that Calvin was in the trenches of a reluctant forming rekindling romance, regardless of how fucked up it began in this life. Calvin sat with both legs stretched out on the table near the TV. Across from him were Ryo, Take, and Dare who were watching a basketball game but fighting over which basketball game to watch. The crap was hilarious, because it was over old games that had passed awhile ago and some off-the-wall bet.

“Take and Ryo, man, your asses are so foul, bros. I won that bet on the court that you both didn't know that teeth are called canines right?” Dare griped.

“No, that was your imagination, dude.” Ryo chuckled.

“Man, shut up, but I wasn't wrong either. We have dentine, damn,” Take grumbled, scowling, brushing off his black jersey. His partially shaved hair on both sides of his head was pulled back into a ponytail and his jade eyes were glowing like flames.

“Man, no one is thinking about this shit; turn the game on,” Ryo retorted giving Take dap while they both laughed.

Dare's chocolate gold-rimmed eyes lit up as he let out a deep laugh. He shook his fitted-hat-wearing head and crossed his muscled arms over his chest. Ryo headed to the kitchen.

His shoulders shook wittily before continuing, “Yeah, man, but teeth are also called canines! Ante up, brahs, ante up. No point in being salty. I get the right to the TV. I let you sit back to eye hustle my twin, so go back to that shit so I can watch this game.”

“Just disrespectful, man,” Ryo said, chuckling while strolling to the couch with a bowl of popcorn.

“But guess what? Dare is right. Take should be focusing on choppin' it up on you know who.” He plopped on the couch and started singing Miguel's “Adorn,” teasing Take about Amara. Every young guy busted out in laughter as Take caused Amit's popcorn to fly out of his bowl.

“This shit,” Take growled.

“It's just jokes!” Ryo countered in jest.

Listening to the new kids in his House reminded Khamun of his relationship with his brothers, Marco, Calvin, and Lenox. It felt like good to have the male banter in the room. In the security room, Kali clicked on her keyboard showing Amara as well as Miya the prayer lines that made up both Chicago's city grid and STL on the security board. A map of Atlanta's massive grid instantly popped up while Amara pointed out different places she'd said had high levels of Cursed or demonic activities.

“See, if you throw a Mystic spell over a prayer grid like the ones I'm showing you, if you tailor it just right, you can blow up a whole neighborhood or army of Cursed, if strong enough. Let me show you,” Kali explained. She typed into her keyboard, pulling up a Mystic spell, and went into teaching Amara and Miya Mystic skills.

“Oh, so, um, a random question: when you made the Medusa see her past, then linked it with Calvin, what type of power was that?” Amara casually asked.

Kali gave a lighthearted giggle then pointed to the screen on the monitor. “It was all still Mystic power, cuz. Like I was explaining, everything on our side, is on their side, so if it helps, think of me as a White Light Witch, who had psychic abilities.”

Being who Amara was, she let out a slow, “Ohhhh, so, why are you scared to fly planes; can't you just create a spell that helps with that? And teach me how to see the past of my ancestors. I want to sit in a café in Harlem and listen to Langston Hughes. By touching Calvin, he should be able to help ground me and take me back then for a bit right?”

Kali stared slack jawed at her cousin. Khamun himself couldn't help but to stare too. She just spit out some wisdom, all wrapped up in common confusion of what it is to be Nephilim. There were limitations to everything in life, power was one of those, but the idea of being able to go back in time with just the whisper of a Mystic spell was damn interesting. Maybe one day Kali could find such a spell because it could definably help in this war against the Cursed.

Behind him, Dr. Eammon sat with a laptop speaking with his son Zion and Kyo's parents on Skype about additional intel that was pouring in from STL. Through the whole conversation, Zion would have to repeat himself multiple times to his father, as Kyo's dad Hideo watched via his Web cam in Boston with the same quizzical look Khamun had. Worry was etched across Dr. Eammon's face, but Khamun could tell that Zion felt confined in what he could do since he was in STL.

As they continued their conversation and Pop Hideo signed off, Sanna's mother Tamar regally strolled into the rec room of the compound with Sanna. Nestled between his beloved's hands was a filigree-carved silver box that Calvin and Amara had dug up from Bishop Steele's grave. San's mother was dressed in a cream pencil skirt and a white blouse with a hat that accented her short, wavy chin-level bob. Both women spoke quietly to each other as they moved to sit down at a table.

Dr. Eammon abruptly ended his conversation with his son, then moved to pace around the room before noticing Tamar. His hands were behind his back. His brow furrowed lost in thought, resulting in Khamun watching the Elder closely. Tamar lightly sashayed to the Elder, reaching out to take his hand. A smile spread across her butterscotch feathers as she held the hand of Dr. Eammon Toure in love.

The Elder's broad, muscularly lean frame stood intimately close to San's mother, almost respectfully shadowing her in a manner that felt very much like a gentleman. A comforting grin, which held a hint of seduction, played across his magnificent face and it made Khamun think of his own love for Sanna. Quietly studying the Elder, it appeared as if his hand fit perfectly around San's mother's and Tamar bashfully gazed up into his handsome face. Her fingers adoringly reached up to remove his frameless glasses to clean them, calming the Elder instantly.

Khamun admired how they looked together. Dr. Eammon's almost regal attributes and welcoming aura was comforting on a mentoring level. His strong jaw, duo lines in his cheeks that almost could be called dimples appeared when he smiled at Tamar. The Elder's salt-and-pepper spiky low afro and crisp-cut goatee melded nicely with his mahogany skin.

Khamun noticed the way he stared into San's mother's eyes made Sanna smile. The Elder exhibited the strong stature of a loving man that Tamar needed as much as Eammon needed her, which marked Dr. Eammon as a man who could have been of royal blood in his past life. Khamun was inspired. He hoped he looked that same way in the presence of the woman he loved: Sanna.

Coming back to reality, closely observing the tense Elder, Khamun realized that for a while, slow change had been occurring in the male. Over these past couple of weeks, he had learned the Dr. Eammon had gone on a much-needed hiatus from his job at the hospital. From there, he had been spending a lot of time at the compound talking with Sanna, Dare, and now Amara with Zion on call.

There was something odd going on with the man, more and more every day. Some days it felt as if Dr. Eammon was forgetting everything. On other days if felt as if he knew more than what he was letting on. It was strange to Khamun, which caused him to assess the Elder's aura. Twin interweaving lines of color twisted to fuse around each other, brightening in magnitude. The shape of a phantom shadow, with its hand on the Elder's shoulder drew in Khamun's interest.

“Is . . . is that my box? The box I found years ago?” Dr. Eammon gloomily questioned.

Khamun noticed Sanna's curious gaze. Her cinnamon pupils warmed in kind then she pulled out a chair and patted its surface.

“This is your box? Amara and Calvin found this box at our father's grave. Would you like to see what is inside with me?” San gently asked.

Dr. Eammon hesitantly moved toward the table as if unsure if he should approach. It was crazy to Khamun how the man had just been an assuring, strong Elder but now seemed to be a frail, confused stranger. Something was going on. Khamun could taste it, and from the look of it, Sanna felt the same. His beloved gently glanced his way and told him to keep silent and let it play out for what it is, without saying a word. The strong, refreshing scent of ancient Mystics' spells filled the room, stopping everyone in their tracks to focus on Sanna and Dr. Eammon.

“Eammon has been acting this way for a week or so now, sweetie. He's been having dreams about us . . . Dreams about things that only your father knew of,” Tamar softly explained.

Sanna glanced toward her mother then stood to hug her gently. “Let's open the box then, to see if we can find some answers.”

Tears fell down Sanna soft cheeks the moment her hands touched the box. Khamun watched her urgently flip the box over, finding a hidden lock on it. The sound of a click then the pop of a latch allowed it to open. Stepping forward, the musty scent of age filled the compound and Khamun stood near Sanna's side peering into it. Inside rested what appeared to be a gossamer-wrapped book; next to it was a glass vial holding rusted misshapen pieces of metal. He watched as Sanna carefully removed each item, setting them on the table.

Dr. Eammon reached out to brush his fingers over its covered surface before gripping it. Light crackled across his dark eyes, snapping his head back in a gasp. “My book.”

Khamun cocked an eyebrow, ready to question what the hell was going on, before Sanna's gentle voice spoke up. Taking both of his shaking bulky hands, Sanna tilted her head in question coaxing him to spill his secrets. “Who are you, good sir? It's okay, you can open your mind now, you are safe here. You are safe with us. Ahh!”

Sanna's screams put the fear of God into Khamun; instinct had him reaching to pull them apart, but the power of Oracle had him locked in place. His wings unfurled to wrap around her as both Amara and Dare stepped forward to anchor her gift. Roughly, like that of a seizure ripped through Dr. Eammon; the power charge was so strong that it also snapped his head back with force. The sound of monks singing on the bluffs of Alton, Illinois, surrounding the grave of Bishop Steele, ripped across Khamun's psyche before the sounds of his teammates brought him back to reality.

His heartbeat drummed in his ear. His vision waivered then returned to normal to see Dr. Eammon slumped over.

“Sweetheart? Baby? Eammon! Please, wake up! Sanna, baby, are you okay? Darius? Amara! Khamun, do something,” Tamar frantically yelled.

She stood shaking Dr. Eammon then moving to touch her children. Khamun observed unsure what to do. Feeling drained from his own power being spent and out of being needed, he slowly pushed up to rest his hand against Sanna's cheek.

A spark between them, a sharp current caught his attention the moment he touched her and the sound of her sharp gasp, with that of everyone else, had Khamun standing up. “San?”

Her coughing then abrupt thrust of her arms around his neck had him rocking her in relief. “I'm okay, Khamun, I'm okay.”

“The nails, the gauze, we'll need it when we go against Caius. Look at it,” Dr. Eammon sputtered.

Khamun turned Sanna on his lap to see, but his eyes kept going back and from Dr. Eammon to the gossamer sheet on his lap.

“Baby, do you know what you have? Look,” Khamun incredulously asked.

He rested a hand on her check and drew her attention back to the sheet. On its sheer surface lay what appeared to be the faded imprint of a man. A man whose features were clear and exceedingly defined, a man who Khamun knew, had come to Sanna in her dreams and told her that she and her family would heal the Society. A man known as the One Son. In the glass stopper, multiple ancient metal pieces clicked in vibrating power. Upon what appeared to be an iron surface were red flecks that illuminated in radiance to flicker new again.

“It can't be,” she whispered.

“Baby, but it is. I feel it in my DNA. This is legit.” Khamun's own eyes burned amber; tears of astonishment ran down his handsome burnish face. Two tears fell in sync down Sanna's illuminating cheeks.

“The shroud of the One Son and the Nails of Nazareth,” Calvin uttered. His hulking form cast a shadow over Sanna to reach out then touch the glass vial.

Astounded, Calvin gently picked up the glass. “I found this back in the day. Died keeping it hidden because if you use the nails as bullets, that's KOS to Lucifer and the Cursed King. Damn, I had forgotten all about it until now. Man look'eah, how did Uncle Bishop get this?”

“That's a good question; and how do you know what we need to use it for, Dr. Eammon?” Khamun cautiously asked.

Elder Eammon gently gripped Tamar's hand, casting a puzzled glance at everyone. It was as if you could see the wheels coming alive in his brain while he tried to remember something of importance. That something he shared next would forever change everyone's lives in that room.

“You've all earned the right to know that it was given to me by Archangel Gabriel. On my travels, I came across two elders; one was Gabriel. The other gave me a gift hidden in a 1930s record player. He told me that a close friend of his had died protecting it and he had taken it to continue in that protection. I had to protect it and learn its history, so I did. This and my children were the reason why Caius came after me, just like he sent the Cursed after you, Calvin. He knew once we got our hands on the Shroud but mainly the Nails that we would tip the scales and be able to snuff him out,” he carefully explained.