The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Page 11

  “Is that so?” Moss harrumphed. “Well, I have been having trouble retaining any of the samples I’ve taken. As soon as I remove the tissue, it dissolves into a sooty substance.”

  Julius almost rolled his eyes. That was the thing about vampires—they were long dead. Once you removed tissue from the dark Magic keeping them alive, it faded to the ages. Whatever Azazel had hoped Moss could do, was doomed.

  LeAnne’s eyebrows drew together. “Is that normal?”

  Azazel chuckled. “For my kind, yes. Add blood to the vial before you take the sample. It will preserve whatever tissue you decide to take.”

  Moss turned toward the woman, giving her instructions as he put gloves on.

  Azazel’s voice filled his mind. “You see, host? You lack faith. Everything is under control.”

  The whole thing seemed anti-climactic, truth be told. He talked to Azazel in his head. “Ooh, the big bad Watcher is teaching the human how to make vampires. Big fucking deal.”

  Azazel corrected him. “Not vampires. Nephilim.”

  Julius froze. Nephilim? He’d seen Azazel create them once. The creatures had decimated an entire town within minutes. They’d destroyed the old coven. His mate. It’s why he sacrificed himself to trap the Watcher inside his body in the first place. “You have to be outside my body to make those.”

  “Or the good doctor needs to remove a bit of me, when he removes a lot of you. I may be invisible and stuck inside your weak form, but I am solid. I am real.” As if to prove his point, Azazel stretched until Julius was sure his skin would split from the pressure.

  Christ. The Nephilim were relentless. Hungry. Thoughtless. Once created, their disease spread like wildfire. And Azazel had told Moss how to do it.

  Hello, Nephilim. Bye-bye civilization.

  Moss picked up the bone saw. “I’ve decided to take you up on your generous offer, Mr. Crowley—”

  The restraint holding down his right arm released. For a split-second, Julius thought Azazel had had enough of his games. Thought he might be getting them the hell out of there. Azazel forced Julius’ arm to jerk out, his fingers closing around Moss’ throat.

  The woman screamed.

  Moss sputtered, clawing at his hand, gouging his skin.

  Azazel forced his hand tighter. “If you must address me, call me Great One.”

  “G-g-great One.”

  They released Moss. He stumbled back, panting. Azazel forced Julius to lay his arm back in the restraint and it clasped around his wrist again. “You may proceed.”

  Chapter 13

  Carnation, WA

  Trina took her time showering and dressing, drawing out the chore as long as possible. When she couldn’t find any other reason to stall, she called Lilith.

  James answered. “Yeah?”

  “Where’s Lilith?”

  He was silent so long, she repeated her question. Finally, he said, “The darkness came back right after you talked to her.”

  “What?” Her gut churned.

  “Started in her hand and around her ear . . . everywhere the phone touched. It’s not going away this time. Kat hasn’t been able to help her. Lil keeps saying it’s not your fault. Keeps asking if you got the Grimoire.”

  “I . . . .” This couldn’t be happening. How could she infect Lilith over the phone? “I did, but I didn’t find any answers. Not about why this keeps happening.”

  “Look, I planned to visit the Historian, but . . . .”

  He didn’t want to leave Lilith. She closed her eyes. “I’ll go. Text me the address.”

  “Okay. I gotta go. She’s restless.” The phone went silent as he hung up.

  She glanced at the clock. They couldn’t leave for another half hour. Not if she intended to take Duncan with her. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. That would be like admitting they couldn’t heal Lilith. She refused to give her friend up yet. The Historian would have answers. They’d figure this out.

  Her stomach grumbled and though she didn’t feel like eating, she should. She needed to keep strong for the night ahead. She headed downstairs.

  Not ready to talk to Duncan—not about what happened upstairs, at least—she tiptoed straight to the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder into the living room where the television was set to CNN, the volume too low for her to make out the newscaster’s report. She turned into the kitchen and damn near jumped out of her socks.

  “Evening, Duchess.” He sat at the kitchen table, the Black Book of Daemonology open in front of him.

  “You scared the shit out of me.” She pressed her hand over her thundering heart.

  He shrugged. “Should’ve been looking where you’re going instead of sneaking around like a thief.”

  Ignoring his barb, she went to the fridge. Lilith didn’t have much. A couple yogurts, a box of pinwheels, cream cheese, soda. May as well add a stop at the grocery store to her mental to-do list—if the looters left anything. Hell, she could slip “looting food” right between “avoiding Duncan” and “saving the world.”

  After she selected a yogurt she went in search of utensils. Found them in the second drawer she opened, grabbed a spoon, and leaned against the counter. Come on, look at him. At least pretend everything is normal. She forced her gaze up. He wasn’t a handsome man, but wasn’t ugly, either. He did have a fantastic body . . . but he wasn’t the type of guy she usually got hot and bothered for.

  “You’re making eyes at me again.” He winked. “Gonna give me a big head.”

  She snorted, using her spoon to indicate his high forehead and close-clipped hair. “So, is that a Guardian requirement or something?” James kept his head shaved bald. Duncan didn’t have much keeping him from the same state.

  “What, being ’andsome?” He tipped back in his chair.

  She rolled her eyes. “No, the whole lack of hair thing.”

  “Now, why hide something this gorgeous with long locks of hair?” He shot her a feral grin, flashing straight white teeth.

  Goddess help her, she loved that he had no problem poking fun at himself.

  “You always this cheeky first thing in the evening, Duchess?”

  Then he had to go and irritate her. “Why won’t you use my damn name?”

  He patted his knee. “Maybe if you come ask real nice-like.”

  She planted her hand on her hip. “Showing off your misogynistic tendencies, today? What’s tomorrow, caveman speak?”

  The low rumble of his laughter rolled over her. “Does that usually work? Do big words and a bit of contempt scare the lads off?”

  She froze with her spoon in her mouth. It had always worked, damn him. That and her wardrobe choices tended to keep men away….when they could see her. At least the kind of men who’d have been a challenge for her—the kind of men a woman fought for and kept. She set aside the yogurt and spoon, her appetite gone. “What do you want, Duncan?”

  “How about some information for starters. We’ll get to the rest later.”

  If he insisted on digging himself in any further there might not be a later. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s death.

  “Come on, I ain’t gonna be much help if I don’t know what I’m bloody well doing, now can I? We’ll both end up dead if we’re working at odds.”

  Her mouth went dry. He was right. She either needed to tell him everything or get rid of him now. She started searching for a glass. Took four tries before she found the right cabinet. Why had Lilith put them by the refrigerator instead of next to the sink like a normal person?

  “How is it, you don’t know where anything is in your own home?”

  She filled her glass at the tap. “I’ve only been back a couple days. When Lilith took possession of the house, she put me down as co-owner.” She took a long drink, staring out at the twilight beyond the kitchen window. What should she do? If she were honest, she had no desire to go on this mission alone.

  “When did you get out of the Navy?”

  “Two
years—” She closed her eyes. If she wanted to keep her secrets she damned well better start paying attention to the conversation. She hadn’t even told Lilith that.

  “Ah. Makes more sense. You don’t have the bearing of someone who’d recently been in service. Why’d you stay away so long?”

  Gods, there were a ton of reasons. Because no one knew she’d been discharged two years ago. Because she hadn’t wanted to come back to the coven in a shambles. Because it was so much easier to hide in her apartment in Bremerton than to accept what she’d done and move on. “My mother, for one thing.”

  “I thought she’d passed.”

  “She did.” She turned to him. “It’s silly, but while away, I pretended that she was still alive. Here in Carnation. Waiting for me to come home.”

  A small smile curved his lips. “That’s not silly.”

  “She passed when I was seven. I had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact she’d died, but still, when I left . . . .”

  “All beings have one thing in common, the need to feel cared for.”

  Did that mean he wanted the same? He’d been around a long time and must have learned to circumvent some of the more impractical aspects of living. Love. Caring. Intimacy. Goddess knew, she’d spent the last two years trying to avoid them.

  *****

  For a moment there, she’d allowed herself to be open with him, vulnerable. Now, though, her whole expression closed off. It was time to change the subject. He tipped his chair back on its rear legs. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

  Trina began to pace across the kitchen. Must be a habit with her, pacing when anxious.

  “I talked to James. Lilith isn’t doing well. He’d planned to go visit the Historian to ask about Crowley.”

  “Which one?”

  “Augustina Saar.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Interesting. Last I heard, Leo ordered Pasquino to ash her.” Guess he wasn’t the only one who shirked the Council’s more questionable orders.

  “Well, he didn’t. I guess she’s like an oracle.”

  He nodded.

  “But James is afraid to leave Lilith. Now that it’s dark, we should go—”

  She started past again and Duncan grabbed her hand, keeping her in place. “That’s fine. Before we go, I’d like to see your Magic in action.”

  Like a hedgehog caught in the porch lights, her whole body stilled.

  “Don’t want to risk getting in a fight and being surprised by whatever it is you do.”

  Her eyes closed. She turned her face away.

  “What are you scared of?”

  That got her temper up. She skewered him with her glare. “My Magic isn’t acting right.”

  “Show me.”

  “It won’t be much.” She touched the choker at her throat. “This is a dampener that keeps my abilities at a minimum so I can control them.”

  He almost smiled. She feared disappointing him? “Understood. I won’t expect much, but I want to know if you can protect yourself in a fight.”

  “Don’t move.” She fisted her hands at her sides.

  The whole house splintered inward.

  He damned near jumped out of his own skin. He did grab hold of Trina to shield her, not that they had much room to move in.

  The whole bloody thing imploded, freezing millimeters from where they were. Pipes, beams, siding and drywall all slivered into sharp, jagged spikes that aimed straight at them.

  “I have chaos Magic.” Her words were muffled against his chest. “I can manipulate things on an atomic level. Even get into a mind or an aura.”

  “You can get into a mind . . . like read it?” He didn’t like the idea of that. He had plenty of secrets no one would understand.

  “I don’t do that anymore. It’s not pleasant getting all that unfiltered information. Except with Lil—up until James transformed her, I used to leave a door opened for her so we could communicate without being heard. Now, I can’t hear her anymore.”

  “Jesus.” He swallowed. That wasn’t any sort of normal Magic he’d ever heard of. Satrina had been a whiz at precognition and Tarot. He’d expected something similar. Two minutes ago, he’d thought things were bad, having to protect her from both the Council and Crowley. Now . . . who the hell wasn’t going to want a piece of this woman and the power she possessed?

  Not to mention he was a tad bit afraid of her now. “Thought that dampener thingy made your Magic less powerful.”

  The house returned to rights. She squirmed out of his lap. “Without the dampener, my Magic is too strong. My problem isn’t protecting myself. It’s trying not to kill everyone else when I use it.”

  Hell, yeah; she scared the shite out of him.

  Chapter 14

  Smyrna Island, Pacific Oceania

  U.S. Department of Defense

  Revelations Industries, Inc.

  Julius Crowley wavered in and out of consciousness. He longed for the deep oblivion of sleep to dull the constraining hood and the pain of Moss’ experiments, but Azazel began to stir, capturing his attention.

  Visions flashed through his mind. He didn’t dare try to focus on the spectacle of everything that was happening now, at this moment, everywhere in the world. He waited as Azazel brought his attention down to one event.

  The island came into focus first, the wind-whipped palms, the white sand beaches, then the facility. The name and logo etched into front doors—four running horses; one each of red, green, white, and black beneath which read: REVELATIONS INDUSTRIES, INC.

  Julius’ gut rolled. Another little detail of Azazel’s joke.

  Ha, ha, very funny. Dickhead.

  The vision narrowed further to a room inside the building. Dr. Moss sat in a tiny office, tapping away on a computer. Papers and energy drinks littered his desk. Sweat dripped down his temples. He mopped at his brow, pushing his glasses up his pug nose.

  LeAnne scowled. “You’re going to have to take a break soon, sir. I brought some data you might want to read through.”

  Moss raised his bleary eyes. “Data?”

  “Yes.” She smoothed her free hand down her plain brown dress. “I did some research on the Great Ones.”

  Moss’ gaze shot heavenward. “I don’t have time for nonsense. I’ve had a breakthrough.”

  “You don’t know what he is. . . .”

  He turned back to his notes. “The most logical answer is that he’s an extra-terrestrial.”

  “Even if he is, that doesn’t mean that these old poems weren’t written about his kind. People from thousands of years ago explained strange phenomena any way they could. At least read this.” She shoved some papers at him. “I don’t think you understand what you’re dealing with.”

  Julius wanted to grin. Unlike Moss, LeAnne had some serious doubts.

  Moss stood. “I don’t have time for this. You’ll never believe the extraordinary things I’ve found in the last couple of hours. Mr. Crowley is unlike anything I’ve ever studied.”

  “The Great Ones are bad news. He’s a fallen angel.”

  Moss kept talking, his voice trembling with the intensity of his excitement as he struggled to impart every detail of his experiments. “. . . The subject is also showing some regeneration capabilities. We removed the tip of his pinky. Within hours tissue grew back perfectly. We weren’t as successful when we amputated an entire digit. The finger did regenerate, but—”

  “Sir.” She shook the papers. “Even if Crowley is pretending to be a Great One, or trying to emulate them—”

  “I encountered some abnormalities. Regeneration is a rather reptilian feature. Goes along with their need for external sources of heat, I suppose. The sample I took—”

  The papers she’d been shaking dropped to her side. “You got a viable sample?”

  That sample was more dangerous than any bio-weapon RI might cook up on their own.

  “I tried a form of cryogenics first, of course, which didn’t work at all. But when I did what he told me to do, it work
ed perfectly. His sample altered my blood. Attacked it. I’ve never seen anything so aggressive. I had to feed the sample in order to keep the specimen intact.”

  “Aggressive?” She shivered. “You need to stop. What if he’s telling the truth? These legends I found say the Great Ones can’t lie.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I plan to start treating soldiers this evening. I’ll remove a pint of their blood, add Crowley’s DNA, and reintroduce the blood back to the patient. I should have a full report for you to transcribe by morning.”

  She backed away. “Don’t you need to do more testing?”

  “What? No. I need approval from the IRB board. Their representatives are on the way now. I don’t foresee any problems, though. I’ll begin treatments as soon as they leave.” He paused, studying LeAnne. “Maybe you should take the next couple of days off.”

  Azazel chuckled. “Soon, host.” Azazel used Julius’ voice. “Soon you’ll get a front row seat to what the world should have become.”

  Should have become? He couldn’t imagine what Azazel might think the world should have been like. “Everything has happened as it should.”

  “No.” The denial echoed in the sterile lab, even with the hood buffering the sound of the shout. “We were first. The Grigori were the first of all creatures, of the angels, even. Our children should have inherited the Earth. Mankind was meant to be nothing more than feed.”

  “You’re wrong.” Julius took control of his voice. “That plan failed. God washed your sins away with the Great Deluge. It’ll fail again.”

  “You’ve always been pathetically optimistic in your beliefs, host. But God, the angels, they promised to never interfere again. They’ll not break their promise. They can’t stop me. I’ll enjoy watching your hope fade to despair.”

  Chapter 15

  Duncan pulled up to a little cottage-style home in the middle of the woods. The green haze of a door-shield protected the house, signaling at least one human resided inside. Shutters covered the front windows, preventing him from being able to tell if any lights were on inside, but the front porch lamp glowed in welcome. “You sure this is the right house?”