In fact, since leaving Hell, Raum had come to realize that he didn’t know anything at all about Leviathan. And the serpent shifter, for his part, seemed happy to keep it that way.
“I don’t like it,” Levi said, trading the BlackBerry-thing for the glass of water he’d opted for instead of the beer. “Too many Reapers hanging around. Too many nefari skulking around in one place, for that matter. It’s not like this is anything like a big city, and this half-breed hasn’t killed anyone.”
“Yeah, I’d say killing is pretty far down on her list,” Gadreel snorted, trailing a finger absently down the waitress’s arm as he accepted his beer. Raum saw her quiver before she headed back to the bar, and knew that Gadreel, at least, would have plenty of company to distract him later. For once, Raum envied him that.
He thought again of Ember’s eyes, the way they’d turned from warm honey to hot gold when he’d touched her. She was a luscious little creature, though she was trying rather badly to hide it behind those ridiculous glasses: small but perfectly curved, and with pointed little features and a rosebud mouth that made her look like a sexy faerie. It fascinated him, that she would run a shop devoted to scent when she wore none but her own natural one. The heady combination of sweetness and spice that poured from her creamy skin had made him want to tug the band out of her wild tangle of fiery curls and plunge his hands into it, holding her still while he ran his tongue over every inch of her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.
Stupid. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. She was a job, nothing more.
“Do you think the Reapers are here just because of all the extra nefari?” Raum asked, frowning. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”
“Don’t think so,” Levi replied with a small shake of his head. Then he indicated the window. “Look at them. It makes no sense. They’re all just waiting.”
Raum followed Levi’s gaze and watched a black-robed man, slim and pale and dark, flicker into existence across the street, walk past several shops, glance his way and vanish once more. Around him, humans walked and drove on the bustling main street, enjoying the crisp fall day. Raum wondered how complacent they’d be if they could see what he saw … if they knew their sleepy little town was now a hotbed of supernatural activity of a rather dark kind.
He wished they could. It would at least make for some entertainment.
The bell above the door rang again, but Raum didn’t bother to look. Not until Gadreel growled several colorful curse words with venom that was uncharacteristic even for him. Then Raum knew who it was, even before he heard the creak and groan of the vacant seat at the table as another, very large, body settled into it.
“Well,” said a familiar voice. “This is cozy.” Reluctantly, Raum turned his attention to the new comer. His white wings, tipped in gold, were hidden away, but everything about him still bespoke his exalted status. Light gleamed from his short, wavy cap of golden hair, from his gold-dusted skin, keeping him in a nimbus of light that even human eyes would be able to see faintly. Hard, intelligent blue eyes swept the three demons, and from the expression on the angel’s face, he didn’t much care for what he saw. As usual.
“Hello, Uriel,” said Raum, not bothering to disguise his lack of excitement. “To what do we owe the plea sure?” Levi was normally the only one who had to deal with the seraphim running the little operation they had going, and that suited everyone just fine. But every once in a while, the highest rank of angels stuck their nose in a little deeper than their demonic recruits would prefer. And because Raum’s existence had turned into one epic failure after another, it seemed like every time this happened, they sent Uriel.
“I wouldn’t think another half-breed would merit so much attention from someone of your … elevated status,” Gadreel added. “We are but your lowly exterminators. Isn’t that about right?”
Uriel shot him a look. “Shove it.”
“It’s not just the half-breed,” Levi said coolly, draw ing a surprised look from the angel and demons alike. “Maybe you should tell us what exactly is going on here, Uriel, before we go any further.”
Uriel snorted, but Raum caught the quick flash of something one rarely saw in an angel’s eyes: fear. It only validated his own suspicions about this mission. There was something very off about this place, even beyond his odd reaction to Ember Riddick.
“I’m not sure what you think you’re entitled to,” Uriel said with a hard smile.
“We’re entitled to some small amount of courtesy, considering we put our asses on the line for you on a regular basis.”
“You’re paid well for it,” Uriel replied. The light around him contracted and turned a deeper gold, a sure sign of his rising anger.
“As we should be, considering your kind has turned a blind eye to demonkind for so long that you can’t see what you need to anymore. Levi’s right,” Raum said flatly, his own temper flaring. “This place has the stench of death all over it, and it’s not coming from the woman.”
Uriel shoved a hand through his cap of golden hair, agitated. “No, we thought not.” He shook his head and gave a mirthless little laugh. “I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s so much like last time. Come on, Raum,” he said. “You were there. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” Again, that hint of bitterness in his voice. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit that day.”
The door opened and shut as the bar’s one remaining patron left, sending a gentle rush of chilled air past the table. Again, Raum caught the faintest hint of brimstone, and this time the memory rushed to the surface so quickly that he wondered at having missed the signs before. Of course he remembered. Even now in Hell, they sang songs about that glorious day.
The witch had been the key. Young, untried, with power it would take years to hone, she’d drawn the hand some lust-demon to her like a moth to the flame. She had caught him, bound him to her, loved him … while the incubus had twisted her into the most deadly weapon that humankind had yet seen.
On a cold day in November, she had stood in the center of her little English village, in the place where worlds touched, and for a few dark hours thrown open the gates of Hell.
“You’re thinking Hellhole,” Raum murmured, his mind fogged once again with the smoke that poured from the flaming thatched roofs, from the massive chasm that had opened straight down into the bowels of the earth and beyond. The air had been thick with screams of terror, the wild screeches and howls of the nefari, the shouts of Fallen and angel as the two engaged in bloody battle. Raum remembered the harsh music of clashing swords, the taunts and catcalls that had risen above the destruction as the angels had slowly fought the demon horde back into the ground.
Not soon enough, though. Not before the horseman called Plague had ridden off into the night.
“This is one of the thin places,” Uriel said softly, looking directly at him. “And I have no doubt there is an actual Nexus point here, where Hell touches Earth.”
“You think the woman is the key,” Levi said, threading long, elegant fingers together on the table. “How?”
“I wish I knew,” Uriel growled furiously, fists clench ing reflexively on the table. “I can’t seem to see their kind like I used to be able to. The half-breeds are like the rest of the Lost Ones, without hope, without Light. What reason was there for us to watch them destroy themselves? Except … now I can’t seem to see like I should … and the Balance is precarious enough as it is … “
“Oh, come on, Uriel,” Gadreel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You can whip yourself later, in private. I may be a demon, but that’s not really my thing.”
Raum just watched Uriel’s impotent fury with interest, and no small amount of trepidation. Right now, the Balance, the natural equilibrium between Light and Dark here on Earth, was the only thing standing between him and a permanent swim in a