The Holy Dark Page 3

  He turned his head until his nose met the nape of my neck, inhaling. “Still, it’d be a shame to just kill you. I want to have a little fun first. Got to see what makes you such a hot commodity that a Prince of Hell would let himself get killed over you. You must be one sweet piece of ass, baby.”

  I bit down on his first finger and elbowed him in the gut as hard as I could. He grunted and let go of my face on instinct alone, but not my arm. I whirled around and kicked him in the crotch. He howled in pain. Didn’t matter that he had superhuman strength. Nuts were nuts.

  I snatched my arm free and held out my hand, palm flat. “Strike!”

  An invisible shard of energy sliced through the air and plunged into the upper part of his chest, spilling blood onto the linoleum. Dammit! I’d aimed too high. Not a killing blow.

  “Bitch!” the demon growled and then he tackled me onto the floor. I hit it hard, the wind knocked out of me, but didn’t stop to feel the pain. I had only seconds to get the upper hand or he’d rape me and eat me and laugh while he did it.

  He wrapped his huge mitts around my neck and choked me, grinning as I thrashed and scratched his arms. “Please, keep struggling. That only makes it better.”

  My limbs got rubbery and numb. Less than a minute now. Come on, Amador, move!

  Feebly, I grabbed the rosary dangling from my neck, wrapping it around my fingers. I slammed my fist into the side of his head. The cross dug into his temple and burned an impression into his skin. He belted out an agonized scream and let go.

  I gulped in a quick breath and kneed him in the side, knocking him over onto his back. I straddled him and punched him with the rosary again and again. His blood splashed against the floor, painting it crimson. I didn’t stop until my entire arm shook with pain and my knuckles were marred with blood—both his and mine.

  He lay prone underneath me, moaning incoherent words from the pain. There were imprints of the cross burned all over his cheeks, his nose, and his forehead. The son of a bitch would look in the mirror and remember not to fuck with a woman ever again.

  I grabbed a fistful of his blond hair and jerked his head back so he’d meet my eyes. “Listen and listen good, shitbrain. If you ever touch someone I love again, I will shove this cross down your throat and watch you choke on it. You want to know why a Prince of Hell wanted me so bad? Now you do. I’m not a nice girl. I’m a Seer. It is my job to save the people of the world from vultures like you. Now you take that back to whoever your boss is and let him come find me, if he’s stupid enough. I’ll bury you all if I have to.”

  I slammed his head against the tile. He made another hurt noise. I relished the sound. Then I stood up, unraveled the rosary from around my hand, and headed for the door. Just after I opened it, I heard an unearthly roar from behind me. He was making a last ditch attempt to stop me. I turned, reaching for the rosary again, but instead someone behind me from the hallway spoke one word.

  “Strike!”

  An energy shard flew past my cheek and lodged itself in the demon’s forehead. He fell backwards, dead on the spot.

  “Awful manners, these demons. No respect for their elders,” a polite male voice said from the hallway. It was one I had known for years, one that had soothed my fears and given me strength more times than I could count.

  I turned to see the archangel Gabriel smiling softly down at me.

  “Welcome back, Jordan.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  JORDAN

  “Gabriel? What are you doing here?” I asked, raking my gaze across him just to make sure I was seeing right. It was slightly difficult to do, as Gabriel was six-foot-six and his short feathery blond hair nearly scraped the ceiling. As always, he was impeccably dressed—his trench coat was dark grey, his easily three-thousand-dollar black suit pressed to perfection, and his Armani dress shoes shone in the fluorescent light overhead. He’d chosen these clothes to accent his sky blue eyes, no doubt. It worked.

  The suspicious lack of spectators to the murder was his doing. Gabriel had people everywhere, angels and humans alike, so he’d cleared the area ahead of time to talk to me. In the real world, he was the head of a multinational corporation, one that had come under fire a year ago thanks to me. He had less money and less status now, but it was still enough to get around.

  “I am saving your life, apparently,” he said, eying the dead demon behind us. He motioned for me to go back into the room.

  I obeyed, shutting the door behind us and locking it. “Thanks. Really. But you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

  He stepped around the corpse and slid his hands into his pockets. “I heard Lauren was hurt. The nature of it seemed unusual, so I decided to come down to check it out. Lo and behold, the chatter around the fallen is that someone lured you here to kill you. Seems the rumor had some truth to it.”

  “No shit. But why now? We’ve been hunting down the coins for months. Think they’re getting desperate?”

  “Most likely, but that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

  His expression sobered. I got uncomfortable very quickly. Gabriel had always been a jovial kind of guy, even before we broke ties with each other. If he got serious, then things were at their worst.

  “I need your help, Jordan.”

  “With what?” I asked, wanting to cross my arms, but then remembering it would smear blood all over my favorite duster. Couldn’t have that. “I don’t see why you can’t ask any of the other Seers. They seem to get in less trouble than I do.”

  “They lack a particular skill that you possess.”

  “And that is…?

  He cleared his throat. “I need you to help me find Michael.”

  My spine stiffened and my blood practically vibrated through my veins. The room swam in front of my vision for a few seconds before I could control it. No one had spoken his name to me in months, and for good reason.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, not hiding the anger.

  “I am afraid not.”

  “How can you not find the Commander of God’s Army on your own, Gabriel? I thought you were angels. You’re the ones who get shit done down here.”

  “He went AWOL about a month ago. We thought we’d be able to find him, but we can’t. He’s hidden himself too well. You know I would never ask this of you unless it was a serious matter.”

  “I’m already up to my ears in a serious matter. Do you really expect me to drop everything to go after the man who dumped me?”

  “I understand your reluctance—”

  “My reluctance?” I said with a bark of harsh laughter. “Understatement of the century, Gabe.”

  “—but,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. “It is important that we recover him. It is not just your life that the demons have declared war on. It’s his as well.”

  “Yeah, well, last time I checked, he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need me to watch his back. He made that perfectly clear.”

  I turned and opened the door, but then he appeared behind me, pushing it closed. He sighed—a quiet, but deeply emotional sound.

  “Jordan, please. I am asking you as a friend. I am worried about him. He has not been himself since he left you. I cannot change what happened between you two, but you are both still my family. I want you to be safe. Truly.”

  I let go of the doorknob and faced him. It hurt to see the pain etched into his features. He was still sweet, sensitive, and like an older brother to me. Truthfully, if he asked for the moon, I’d fly my ass up there and get it for him.

  I touched his cheek with my non-bloodied hand. “You know I’d do anything for you, Gabriel. But this…I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Michael is a big boy. If he doesn’t want to be found, there is a reason for it and you know that. You’re just worried it’s something bad. It won’t be. He’s better than that.”

  The archangel nodded, lowering his hand from the door so I could leave. I rose on my tiptoes. He stooped to my height and let me lay a kiss on his cheek.


  “By the way,” I said, pausing in the doorway. “You look great.”

  He smiled. “So do you.”

  I closed the door behind me. I’d been right.

  Hospitals definitely had it in for me.

  “Is it just me, or can Jordan not stay out of trouble for two seconds?”

  I sighed. “It’s not just you.”

  “Thought so.”

  The other Seers in the Skype chat agreed, filling the air with equally sarcastic comments. I leaned my head back against the cheaply-made headboard to my bed, wishing it would just bash me unconscious. They had a point, though. For some reason, people tried to kill me a lot. It was getting to be slightly ridiculous.

  “I mean, I’ve been a Seer for what? Five months? Someone’s only tried to kill me once.”

  “Right? What’s she doing that gets the demons so hot and bothered? Er, poor choice of words, but you know what I mean.”

  “Guys—“

  “I don’t know, maybe she’s like demon catnip. They can’t resist.”

  “Seriously, guys—”

  “Or maybe she’s like that stupid Twilight chick and her blood is some kind of crazy demon aphrodisiac and they just want to eat her.”

  I slammed my palms down on my laptop. “Can we focus please?”

  They laughed. “Relax, Jor. We’re just poking fun. Give it a rest.”

  “Yeah, ha-ha-bloody-ha. My wounds are healing fine, by the way.”

  “Stop with the pity party,” Myra chimed in, sounding as though her mouth were full. It was dinnertime in her neck of the woods—and coincidentally my neck of the woods—so she was probably eating something out of the fridge at the moment.

  “What do you want from us? Seems like you’re rightfully screwed.”

  Such a supportive group of people. I tried not to dwell on it. “Did you find out why Matthias offed himself?”

  “Not precisely,” Myra said. “But rumor has it that he was just a small fry. He works for someone bigger, and if they find out he lost a coin to us, he’s boned. We figure he took the fast and nasty way downstairs to plead his case before they find out through the grapevine like usual.”

  “Are we talking an archdemon?”

  “Not sure,” Rachel said. She sounded sleepy. Made sense. She lived in London and God only knew what time it was there. “Still no sightings of them since last year when the Leviathan awoke. It’s likely. Just don’t know if it would be one of the usual suspects.”

  “It sounds more up Mulciber’s alley,” Martinez said. Of our group, he stayed up the latest on a regular basis since he was a hardcore gamer and thus sounded the most awake. Plus, he lived in Dallas. It wasn’t that late in his time zone.

  “According to Jordan, Belial’s a lot more devious. He likes to make things personal. Then again, putting a price on her head is pretty personal,” Mickey said, though his voice came through a bit tinny because he lived in Sydney, Australia. Bad reception.

  “Point taken,” I said, trying not to think about it too much. I hadn’t seen the archdemon Belial for close to a year either and I was praying it would stay that way. “What do you think should be our next course of action?”

  “I think the original mission should still be in focus,” A.J said through the crunch of what I guessed was popcorn. Dammit, they were all making me hungry now.

  “Only half of the coins left and this whole mess’ll be over. If the demons get antsy, we’ll have to call in the big guns. Ask some angels for back up.”

  “That might be harder than I thought,” I admitted. “I bumped into one today and he was not happy with me in the least.”

  “You, probably not. Us? Eh. We might get some leniency, y’know?”

  “Thanks for the sympathy.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I rolled my eyes. A.J. was a dyed-in-the-wool, Bronx-born New Yorker. That was the most sympathy I was probably ever going to get. “Fine. See what they say if we ask for some extra backup. What’s the word with those psychotic necromancers in Berlin? Any luck catching them?”

  “I’ve been in contact with the angels there,” Rachel said. “They haven’t been using them to murder anyone for a couple weeks. The trail’s gone cold, for now at least.”

  “Any theories as to why?”

  “The chatter is that they’re not just bloodthirsty or mad with power, but rather mercenaries for hire. They think someone’s hired them for a big job and that’s why they’ve gone ghost. Er, no pun intended.”

  “More good news,” I said with a sigh. “Keep me updated. I’m staying in Albany another day or two to make sure they don’t come after Lauren again. Stay on mission. I’ll check in tomorrow night if it stays quiet here.”

  Five other voices chorused in agreement and I ended the chat. I stared up at the crookedly swinging ceiling fan above me and wondered if my head would explode from the stress of recent events. Well, at least I was back in Albany. It had been a while. If I had time, maybe I could swing by my old job at a Southern cuisine restaurant called the Sweet Spot. I had been a waitress alongside Lauren up until a year ago when everything went south. I still missed the old joint from time to time.

  I shut the laptop and laid it on the bedspread. Wasn’t in the mood to surf the web. I tried not to think about the angel in the hospital and how his eyes burned with hatred when he looked at me. Not too long ago, we’d all been amigos. I’d even saved their Commander from wandering the earth as a poltergeist. One little mistake and now I might as well be a demon in their eyes.

  The creaking sound of the ceiling fan above me began to lull me to sleep. I couldn’t resist its call, not after the last couple of days I’d had.

  Pain and I were sort of unofficial best friends and had been all my life. However, this night was different. This night, it had shed its skin and shown me the monster beneath. Tonight, pain evolved to a whole new level.

  The punches landed against my jaw again and again. The leather from her gloves scratched welts into my cheek. My nose had broken a while ago. Blood dribbled down into my mouth, which was already half-full of the salty substance. The pattern continued—jaw, nose, cheek, jaw, nose, cheek, jaw, nose, cheek. I lost count ages ago because all of my energy was spent trying to remain conscious. If I passed out, game over.

  The punches finally stopped. My arms, tied at the wrists with rope and stretched to capacity, were numb. I couldn’t lift my head. All I could do was wheeze and try to breathe through my cracked ribs and shattered face.

  A hand grabbed my tangled, sweaty locks, pulling my head back. “Had enough yet?”

  I licked my busted lips and spat a huge mouthful of blood into my attacker’s face. It splattered across her forehead and down the side of her cheek. My grin was ugly and had nothing to do with happiness. It was a reflex. If I was going to die, I’d go out a smart ass. Rule Number One in the Amador Handbook.

  “Not hardly. When does the torture start?”

  She tore away from me, wiping off the blood with a towel one of her flunkies offered her, and then narrowed her black doll eyes at me. “Laugh it up, bitch. I’ve got all night to spend taking you apart. We’ll see if you got jokes when I’m done with you.”

  “Sure. Just make the check out to Jordan Amador, your friendly neighborhood comedian. I’ve got bills to pay, y’know.” A hollow laugh shook through my aching bones. She wasn’t wrong. I wouldn’t last more than another hour, probably. It was just as well. The average Seer didn’t live to see the age of fifty. I was no different. It seemed fitting that I’d be killed by a normal human girl instead of an archdemon or a hellhound. After all, some of the worst people I’d met in this life were human.

  She shook her head. Her matted brown locks flopped against her cheeks. “I’m gonna shut that mouth of yours up one way or another. Maybe I’ll just sew your lips shut. What do you think? Would you like that?”

  “Wow, you can sew? That’s pretty nifty in this day and age.”

  She punched me in the gut this time, sen
ding a wave of pain down my stomach and into my legs. More blood pooled in my mouth. I spat it at her expensive looking leather boots. She made another enraged snarl. Ha. This was too easy.

  She jerked her head to the side, signaling one of her Mooks. “Go get the tire iron.”

  Heavy footsteps retreated. Great. Now things had kicked into high gear. It seemed this was the end of the line for me. I expected to feel an overwhelming sense of loss or anger or regret or fear, but…I didn’t. I felt oddly calm. At least it would be over. No more fighting, no more losing, no more loneliness. My thoughts drifted as the darkness began closing in and the footsteps got closer. Just before everything went black, I couldn’t help thinking one sad little question.

  Would Michael mourn me?

  The alarm clock in my phone went off, catapulting me out of the nightmare with the lyrics to “Stronger” by Kanye West. Total douche, but the man could seriously make some good music. The original Daft Punk song wasn’t too shabby either.

  I poked at the device until it shut up, rubbing my eyelids in order to push the grisly images out of my head. I tapped the bridge of my nose just to be sure it wasn’t actually broken. Nope. Still the same. At least for now.

  I showered, got dressed, and headed back to the hospital as soon as visiting hours opened. No one called during the night, meaning that so far, Lauren was alright. I hoped to keep it that way.

  She was talking to someone when I entered the room. I turned the corner to find her daughter, Lily, sitting next to her. The eight-year-old’s eyes lit up when she spotted me.

  “Auntie Jordan!” she exclaimed, hopping straight into my arms. I picked her up and hugged her. A warm spot filled my chest—pure, unadulterated affection. I would probably never have a kid with my lifestyle. Lily made my heart melt into a gooey puddle of ooze every time I saw her. She was sweeter than cotton candy dipped in chocolate.