Chapter Two
Archer pulled into the driveway of his brick colonial home, exhausted after a long night of performing emergency surgery on a trauma victim. The temperatures had dropped unexpectedly, and ice covered the roads. He loved his job as an orthopedic surgeon, but the hours could be grueling. At least he didn't have a neglected family to worry about.
Living alone suited him just fine. Sure, sometimes it could be lonely, but whatever. His career kept him busy. And whenever he had time off, there were the season tickets to the Red Sox that the hospital provided to the top surgeons. He grunted to himself as he stepped out of his BMW. A couple of those guys weren't too annoying to hang out with.
It was still too early to check the mail, so he made his way to the front door. All he wanted to do was jump into the shower then fall into bed. However, as soon as he stepped into the foyer, he knew something was terribly wrong. His security alarm didn't beep, and he wasn't the type to forget to set it.
Archer flipped on the light then sucked in a sharp breath. What the hell? His large living room looked as if an actual tornado had torn through it. A surge of anger built inside him, and he marched forward, wondering how the thieves who'd broken in managed to get past his security system. The company he’d hired assured him they were the best. He gritted his teeth. As soon as he assessed the situation and called the police, he was going to have a very terse conversation with the so-called security company.
Right as he stepped into the open room, a movement like a shadow caught the corner of his eye. Archer whipped around, squinting his eyes in the dim area and trying to see if anyone was there. The house was eerily quiet, and a thread of unease coursed through him. Either whoever had broken into his home was still there, or he was delirious from exhaustion and hallucinating.
Not wanting to take any chances, he decided to call the cops now rather than later. Archer reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone when a deep voice sounded behind him.
“Don’t call anyone, it’s not safe.”
Archer whirled around, startled to find a tall, handsome man staring back at him with dark, almost black eyes that held a tinge of a golden glow around the irises. Before he could ponder the odd occurrence, the seeming glow disappeared. That left him with nothing to do but consider the meticulously dressed man with striking features, deep bronze skin, and a piercing gaze.
Whoever he was, he didn’t seem like someone who’d just robbed and vandalized his home. Archer almost chuckled at how out of place the sophisticated man seemed amidst the chaos. This gorgeous specimen would more likely be found in the boardroom of a high-powered corporation or hosting an exclusive party on his yacht. Yet, here he was, standing in his living room and claiming danger.
Archer was yanked from his appraisal as he remembered this was a stranger in his half-destroyed home and that there could indeed be danger. Archer clutched his phone in a tight grip and took a step back, ready to run if the man had a weapon or stand his ground if necessary. The stranger seemed strong, probably in his mid-thirties like Archer was, but he was a student of martial arts and could put up a decent fight if necessary.
“What’s going on here and who the hell are you?”
Archer bit out.
“I’m not the hell, but they were here. I’m sorry your home was damaged while my colleagues and I fought them off. I’m only grateful you weren’t here at the time.”
His brow furrowed before he continued. “I’m afraid they would’ve tortured or killed you in order to obtain the relic you’re hiding.”
Hot or not, this guy was clearly a nut job. “I need you to leave right now.”
The guy had the nerve to shake his head. “You don’t understand. The mortal authorities can’t help you, can’t keep you safe. Only my colleagues and I have the skills to protect you from what you’re up against.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand, but it’s still time for you to leave.”
The guy advanced again, and Archer stumbled back.
“I can’t allow you to call the authorities. It’s too risky. You need to verify whether the relic was stolen or if it’s still here. Then we can secure it and keep you safe.”
The man rubbed his chin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave this world behind. Now that the demons have found you, they’ll never leave you alone.”
Yup. This guy had taken a one-way trip to Looney Town, and it didn’t appear he was planning to return.
Archer jetted to the door, reaching for the knob, but he was yanked back and spun around. He gasped from the electric charge that surged through him. The man stared at him with wide eyes as if Archer was the one who’d shocked him.
Now that he was being held in the powerful grip of the stranger, his muscular frame that wasn’t noticeable in his suit was rather apparent. Archer swallowed hard, not sure why he was overcome with the desire to let this stranger, this man who was clearly a threat to keep touching him.
Archer forced himself to snap out of whatever trance he was under, struggling in the man’s arms. He quickly realized the guy’s strength exceeded what he believed possible for one person. The chances of him breaking free seemed miniscule.
“Let me go. Immediately.”
The situation was becoming more awkward by the second. Being held by this man so they were chest to chest, his muscled arms wrapped around Archer’s waist, his warm breath fanning across Archer’s face, awakened something in his body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to another man, especially one so intoxicating. Archer tried to focus on the danger, not the inexplicable attraction he felt.
“I can't let you go,”
the stranger said, his voice low and husky. “Not until you understand the gravity of the situation.”
A sharp knock at the door jolted them both. The man's eyes rounded, a flash of golden light pulsing in their depths. He released Archer abruptly, pushing him behind his broad back in a protective stance.
"Dr. Blackwood?" called a muffled voice from outside. “Special delivery. Signature required.”
Archer frowned, glancing at his watch. Who would be delivering anything at this hour?
The stranger tensed, his fists curled as if ready to attack. “Don't open it,”
he whispered urgently.
But Archer was over this this nonsense. He shoved past the man and yanked open the door, determined to get answers and end this bizarre standoff.
A courier stood on his porch, holding out an electronic pad. “Sign here, please,”
he said, his voice the type of monotone indicating he’d used the same phrase countless times.
Archer hesitated, eyeing the small package in the courier's other hand. Something prickled under his skin, like a silent alarm going off. The stranger's warnings echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside. This was ridiculous. He was a respected surgeon, not some character in a supernatural thriller.
With a resigned sigh, Archer scrawled his signature on the pad. The courier handed over the parcel without a word then left.
As soon as the door closed, the stranger was at Archer’s side. “Let me open it,”
he commanded, reaching for the package.
Archer yanked the padded envelope behind him and narrowed his eyes at the intruder. “I don't take orders from strangers who break into my home.”
The man sighed. “For the last time, I didn't break in. I realize how bizarre this must seem, but I did save your life.”
His features softened, his shoulders dropping. “I apologize for my harsh tone. I don’t want to frighten you, and I promise I’ll explain everything in detail. However, time isn’t on our side. He laid a hand on Archer’s shoulder, catching him off guard. “Don’t fear. I will protect you with my life.”
There’s that electric jolt again. Archer drew his eyebrows together. The sensation was less jarring this time, more pleasant. Odd.
Archer held back a snort. Nothing was making sense. Why on earth would this stranger be so damn protective over him? It’s not as if he was cowering in fear, or hiding behind the furniture. And he’d give his life? Archer glanced down at the return address and frowned. Whatever was inside the puffy envelope had been sent by an attorney. If he was being sued or there were other private documents, he certainly didn’t want this guy to get a look at his personal business.
“That’s bizarrely thoughtful of you but also completely unnecessary.”
Archer turned the package over, the large padded envelope unremarkable except for the weight of its contents. The stranger reached for the envelope again.
“Please. I would be devastated if anything were to happen to you.”
This time, Archer had to chuckle. The guy was too over the top. “You’re not opening my private mail, so get over it.”
The stranger pressed his lips in a severe line and crossed his arms. He didn’t, however, stand back.
With a shake of his head, Archer tore open the envelope. Inside was a single key, a handwritten note, and the attorney’s business card. He glanced at the back, where the attorney wrote that he’d been instructed to send Archer the key upon word of his death. Archer unfolded the paper and glanced down at the signature. His blood seemed to turn to ice. The signature belonged to a recently deceased patient, Colin Fitzgerald.
The memory of Mr. Fitzgerald saying he’d chosen him as his surgeon for a reason he wouldn’t reveal came rushing back to him. Who was his former patient, really?
“My dear Dr. Blackwood,”
the note read. “If you're reading this, I'm no longer among the living. I entrust you with a great responsibility and an even greater secret. The key enclosed opens a safety deposit box at First National Bank on Boylston Street, containing an artifact of immense power. Guard it with your life, for dark forces seek to claim it. Trust no one but those who speak of the Divine Spark. The fate of our world may rest in your hands. Godspeed, Colin Fitzgerald.”
Archer’s hands trembled as he re-read the cryptic message. He tried to recall all he could of Colin—an eccentric but kind older gentleman who came in for a routine hip replacement. He'd died unexpectedly of cardiac arrest just days after being discharged. Now, he wondered if something more sinister was behind his demise.
The stranger's deep voice broke through Archer’s racing thoughts. “What does it say?”
Archer cleared his throat, his mind a jumble of confused emotions. The paranoia was real. He rubbed his forehead. Colin’s message was eerily similar to the stranger’s ramblings.
“Here. Read it.”
Archer shoved the note at him but curled his fingers around the key. It felt as if the fate of the world truly was in his hands.
The stranger's eyes widened as he scanned the note, his posture tensing with each line. When he finished, he peered up at Archer with an intensity that made the surgeon's breath catch.
“This changes everything,”
the stranger said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to move. Now.”
“Who’s we?”
Archer snorted. “I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know your name.”
The stranger paused as if debating whether to reveal this information. Finally, he sighed. “Ezekiel. My name is Ezekiel.”
“Well, Ezekiel,”
Archer said, crossing his arms again. “You still haven't given me a good reason to trust you. All you’ve told me so far is I’m in danger. What if you’re the reason for that? I need more information before I do another thing.”
He clutched the key in the palm of his hand and his phone was at the ready in his pocket. Calling the police remained on the table unless this Ezekiel guy gave him a damn good reason to go along with his wild story.
Ezekiel's expression softened. “I don’t mean to be so abrupt with you, of all people. Several of my colleagues can be rather bossy, and I don’t appreciate it.”
He ran his hand across the top of his head. “But it would put me more at ease if we left your home. I don’t think the demons or their minions will return right now, but it’s hard to say. They’ve been becoming more brazen.”
Archer weighed the options. He could dig in his heels and refuse to leave with Ezekiel, the mysterious regal hunk who may or may not want to kill him. Or, he could lock up his house and go somewhere in public and maybe figure out what the ever-loving hell was going on. Should it become clear that nothing dire was happening and Ezekiel was merely delusional, it would be a much easier task to get help if they weren’t alone.
Yet, something about the situation nagged at him. How likely was it that his former patient would send him a key regarding an ancient relic right after Ezekiel claimed that was why his house was broken into? In which case, Ezekiel might be trying to trick him by pretending to be on his side. Maybe it was Ezekiel who’d broken in and was behind all the destruction.
However, when Ezekiel promised to shield him from whoever was at the door and protect him with his life, the idea had sent a thrill through him, even if he couldn't explain why. With a sinking heart, Archer reminded himself that he was crap at reading people, especially men he found attractive. His pathetic attempts at relationships certainly bore that out, and those hadn’t been guys spouting off about demons, holy relics, and the fate of the world.
“All right. I’ll go with you. But first, I need some coffee. There’s a place I frequent downtown where we can talk.”
Ezekiel’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. The sooner I get you away from here, the better. We’ll still need to be vigilant, and you must follow my instructions to the letter.”
He held up his hand in a placating gesture. “Not because I want to boss you around, but so I have the best chance of keeping you safe.”
That thrill of Ezekiel being concerned for his safety coursed through him again. So ridiculous, yet so wonderful at the same time.
“Fine. I’ll play along.”
Archer jabbed a finger at the mysterious Ezekiel. “For now.”