Chapter Two
“I want to thank all of you for taking a break from sex long enough to attempt to save the world.” Zavier made sure that sarcasm coated his words thicker than the layer of gravy he’d heaped on his mashed potatoes. Because, yeah, he was tired of picking up extra assignments because Rhys and Gideon needed “quality time” with their girlfriends.
There was a reason that the Right and Holy Seraphic Order of the Nephilim had a no-relationships rule.
Sure, they’d peaced out on the order decades ago. Broken more than a few of their rules since then. That one, though? It’d prevent a two hour push back to the start of a mission because “Maisy got a new bubble bath for us to try.”
Zavier was eighty-seven years old. He could see through the euphemism of “bubble bath” to the reality of “sex in the bathtub.”
“Sounds like you’ve caught a wicked case of FOMO,” Gideon joked.
Rhys snickered. “Or Z just needs to get laid.”
“Hey.” Maisy jabbed her fork in the air. “That kind of juvenile joking is not a good look on grown men.”
Evangeline—who, as a Dark Nephilim, was far less dramatic than the two human women at the table—arched a blonde eyebrow. “It’s especially ridiculous when said men are pushing ninety. Have some class.”
It was nice having somebody else poke at his friends. Zavier got to sit back and enjoy the show.
Yeah, dinners at their WatchTower behind Niagara Falls were a lot different now with the addition of girlfriends.
And Liss.
Zavier appreciated how Maisy had managed to pull the stick out of Rhys’s ass and loosen him up. Eva was good for Gideon, too. He’d always been the happiest of them, but after his wife betrayed all of them—and was killed by demons for her trouble—that had turned into more of a veneer. It was good to see his friends truly happy.
As long as they didn’t expect him to follow in their footsteps.
“Sorry, darling.” Gideon kissed the back of Eva’s hand. Then he slid off his chair to one knee and continued kissing all the way up her arm until she gave him one of those melting smiles.
Not that Zavier was jealous.
It was simply an observation. That it must be nice to be on the receiving end of a smile like that.
But Rhys was staring straight at him across the table loaded with platters of meatloaf, rolls, potatoes, and broccoli. “We’ve been asking you to pick up a lot of the slack, haven’t we?”
“Maybe some,” was all Zavier allowed.
Because he’d tease them, and give them shit, but he wouldn’t complain.
Not ever. Not really. Not to the two men who’d risked everything to save his life.
“Shit, Z. I’m sorry.” Gideon plopped back into his seat. He shook his head so hard that the front blonde swoop of hair flopped onto his forehead. “That’s not fair. You should’ve said something.”
“He shouldn’t have to,” Liss countered.
Huh.
Zavier leaned back, enjoying his meal even more. He was definitely not used to having a champion. Liss must still feel guilty about the demon he’d killed for her two nights ago. And he didn’t plan on doing a damn thing about it.
That guilt, and fear, could be what made her just that much more aware going forward. Cautious. Alert.
Because it ate at him how vulnerable she was, by the simple act of being their friend. Well, they didn’t have friends. They had fellow Nephilim they fought with and—mostly—trusted. Other contacts in the paranormal world that fell under “solid to work with” and “fairly trustworthy.”
But as for friends? Ride-or-die people you wanted to talk to at your lowest point? Yeah, it had always been just the three of them.
Until Maisy got folded into their group. And, by extension, Liss. And then Evangeline. Zavier trusted these women with his life.
In principle.
It was just taking some getting used to.
“We split the profits evenly. Doesn’t matter who does the fighting.” But sure, he’d let them do the dirty work for a while. “That said? I wouldn’t complain if one of you volunteered the next time a call comes in for help with a Bukavic .”
Evangeline tried to disguise her laugh with a cough. She didn’t come close to pulling it off.
Maisy was all interested, wide bicolored brown and green eyes. “What are those?”
“Six-legged monsters with horns. They live in lakes and pools up in Norway and Denmark.” Zavier relished giving the description. To remind his friends just how bad it’d be when they repaid him for his overtime. “Fighting them means you get wet and freeze your ass off doing it.”
“Done,” Rhys declared with a slap to the table.
“Great. Now can we get back to saving the world?” That was the point of meeting tonight. To have a war council.
A war council ought to be flirting-free. A kiss-free zone, too. Because they had big, serious plans to make. To, as always, save the world.
Eva tsked her tongue. “Some people chat about theater over dinner. Events of the day. This really can’t wait until, oh, dessert?”
The woman had grown up in Hell. Yes, more or less protected by her aunt in an enclave of Fallen angels. Fallen who’d been in Hell longer than some angels had been in Heaven. But Eva had still been harassed on the daily by demons and Hellspawn and generally made to feel less than from her lack of evil powers. It cracked Zavier up when she pretended like she knew what a normal family meal was like.
But he’d play along.
“What’s dessert, Maisy?” Not sexist. She and Liss baked for fun. Which gave two extra checks in the pro column of accepting the humans into their circle.
She shook her head until her fiery red ponytail bounced and pointed at Liss. “I had my hands full with dinner.” Maisy waggled her eyebrows. “Liss is responsible for the sugar that’ll be on your tongue.”
Holy fuck . When she said it that way? All Zavier could think about was his tongue on Liss’s skin. How sweet it would be.
He didn’t try to go there. In fact, he actively worked at reining in his mind—and his dick—from thinking about Liss as anything but fully clothed and giving off sisterly vibes. Seeing as how she was, in all the ways that counted except DNA, Maisy’s sister. And Maisy was in love with Rhys. Who, in all the ways that counted except DNA, was Zavier’s brother.
Most of all, he couldn’t allow himself to be with anyone. Not after all that had happened.
The problem was? Those attempts at mental lockdown didn’t work a solid 84 percent of the time. There was just something about the combination of her hourglass figure, Disney princess brunette hair and doe eyes, and a mouth that never stopped snarking.
Liss pointed at the rosewood puzzle box they used to trap imps and djinn. Because in the WatchTower, their weapons and armor and potion ingredients mingled with their human furniture and—of course—plasma TVs. On top of it sat a tall cake. “I made a chocolate whiskey cake with salted caramel frosting.”
Hell, yeah, she still felt guilty about making him fight the Leyak . Liss was well aware of his super-sweet tooth. “I’m not spoiling a dessert that good with talk of battle. Let’s get it over with now.”
“This shouldn’t take long. The list of what we do know doesn’t compare to what we don’t .” Rhys leaned his elbows on the table and counted off on his fingers. “Attacks from the bad guys are increasing.”
“Nameless, faceless, unidentified bad guys,” Maisy clarified.
“Not entirely.” Zavier shrugged. “We know they’re demons.” That was the straw they’d drawn in the lottery of life. Nephilim killed demons. And no matter how many they killed? More always managed to slither their way out of Hell.
Just, recently, lots more. More than they’d encountered in their decades of fighting. More now than the Order’s library tracked happening ever at one time, in all of the Order’s record keeping.
There was nothing Zavier loved more than a good battle. But the influx in attacks had passed “controllable” more than a month ago. They couldn’t keep up.
Even as it pained his ego to admit it.
“We suspect all the killing is done by demons.” Rhys always led their battle huddles. He also always was an annoying stickler for describing the situation down to the last oozing freckle. No generalities got by him. “Just like we suspect that someone is issuing the kill orders. Non-demon. A team of troublemakers from the side of Good.”
“Either full bad seed angels, or bad seed Nephilim , or run-of-the-mill evil demon lords.” Evangeline ticked off the possibilities on her fingers.
Liss tapped her knife against her wineglass. “Hang on. This sounds an awful lot like a recap for the humans in the room. You know we’ve been right here with you as things have escalated. Don’t pull this pedantic crap on me.”
Scrubbing his napkin across his mouth allowed Zavier to hide his near-grin. He’d told Rhys that the women would see right through it. And be offended.
“This isn’t about your humanity.”
“Bullshit. Or is it that we’re female?”
Rhys had stepped in it now. The way this was playing out was sweeter than that cake waiting for him.
Rhys interlaced his fingers and set them on the table. Zavier knew that move. It was his “I’m losing patience, but I refuse to admit it” gesture. “You’ve never sat in on a battle huddle before. Yes, we repeat details that everyone probably already knows. Not to insult. To ensure that nothing is assumed and thus missed.”
“Ooh. You pulled a ‘thus’ out of him,” Gideon mocked. “Now he’s serious.”
“The longer you mock my recap, the longer this will take. Unnecessarily so. Caution and repetition and practice—”
“Prevent mistakes, wounds, and death. Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t make it any less boring. Nobody warned the ladies they’d need shots of espresso to make it through a huddle.” Zavier winked at Liss.
Or he started to. Then caught himself. It turned into a flinch. Like a ghost had just squirted a lemon toward his eye.
After a long sigh that clearly shouted why am I punished by spending my life with disrespectful idiots , Rhys continued. “This unknown coalition of bad seeds, thanks for that term, Eva, have been targeting Nephilim . Why?” He finger-gunned at Gideon and waited.
“Oh, is this an all play?” Gid was great at pushing Rhys to the edge of losing his temper, and then falling in line. “Our best guess is that certain factions are unhappy with leadership.” He made a slow, significant look to the ceiling and pointed an index finger up. “Classic office politics, am I right? They want to overturn leadership. Upset the status quo.”
“A status quo that still has us fucking protecting humanity and risking our lives on the daily,” Zavier added. It wasn’t like there was a truce or anything. Nephilim were just damn good warriors.
“As the Nephilim were killed in record numbers, thus ”—Rhys flipped off Gideon—“the Keepers of the Key lost their partners and were more at risk. And several of them also died.”
Luckily, they’d caught on. No one else in the Order had noticed or much cared. Nephilim were seen as replaceable. The pawns in the army of Good. It was one of the reasons the three of them had quit the Order. They’d been pissed at all the needless deaths of their comrades.
Might as well jump in to get this over with faster. “We pulled the plug on Nephilim getting murdered, but humans are still being picked off in record numbers.”
“Witches, too,” Evangeline added. “Aradia says that covens all over the world are suddenly experiencing unusually high numbers of losses. They’re on high alert.”
Gideon frowned as he laid an arm across the back of Eva’s chair to stroke her shoulder. “Why would they target witches? Nephilim I get. But a witch could probably only fight some lower demons, but not a Duke of Hell. Definitely not a full angel. They shouldn’t be as much of a target.”
“Good angle to chase.” Eyes the same blue as his wings narrowed. “Figuring that out might steer us in the right direction. What threat could witches possibly pose to their mutiny? Until we do—”
Rhys really liked to get into lecture mode. Whereas Zavier was allergic to rehashing facts. “—we’re doing the equivalent of feeding breadcrumbs to Themur. A Norse Jotun . Giant,” he added for Liss and Maisy’s benefit. “We have to find the cause.”
Gideon slammed the serving spoon against the bowl as he went for seconds on potatoes. “We know the cause. I just said it. Angels and demons teaming up to stage a coup by releasing the Titans. It’ll overthrow the current leadership of Heaven and Hell. In their twisted minds, they’ll be kingmakers and rake in the power and attention.”
Rhys passed the bottle of Merlot down the table. “That’s the end game. What we don’t know is how, or when. The cause of targeting witches would be that, somehow, they must be a deterrent to the plans.”
“You’re both wrong. You know their motivation. What you’re missing is their strategy.” Liss curled her lip when Rhys gaped at her. “What? I was a high school teacher. I hear a mistake in grammar or syntax or vocabulary, I’m going to fix it.”
Zavier shoved up the sleeves of his black sweater. Then he spread his arms wide, palms up. “Question is, what’s their next move?”
“Something worse than the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” Eva asked. Her voice didn’t so much as tremble. But the blood did drain from her face.
She’d been the one to face down Pestilence and his horse just a few weeks ago. It had been her very first mission. She’d triumphed, but lost her aunt and almost lost Gideon. It was obvious that she was still shaken.
“ Is there something worse than them?” There was a distinct tremble in Maisy’s voice. Rightly so.
Damn it.
Rhys, Zavier, and Gideon all exchanged looks. They’d sworn not to hide anything from the women. From the humans, more specifically, since Eva knew more than they did on some angelic and demonic subjects. It was better for them to be scared and knowledgeable than blindsided.
“Uh, TBD,” Rhys muttered.
“What?” The shriek of outrage from Liss was so piercing that the wineglasses should’ve shattered. Pretty damn close to a siren’s cry. “What kind of an answer is that? We’ve only studied a bit of mythology. Dozed through Christmas and Easter services. You’re the ones who have the actual wealth and decades of knowledge when it comes to apocalyptic beasts.”
Big nope. They were like…ER docs. Who did ten times the number of flu and food poisoning cases as they did anaphylactic shock. All of those things were probably 100 percent more common than, say, dealing with a patient impaled by a telephone pole.
Nephilim were in the trenches. Daily. Fighting small potatoes. Why? Because Hell saw them as expendable. The big-time demons, the dukes and marquis, didn’t like to leave their cushy digs and do their own dirty work.
“The thing about apocalyptic creatures?” Zavier topped off her glass. “They’re kept under lock and key until the actual apocalypse. We don’t run into them on the daily.”
Gideon waved his hands in a no-foul gesture. It showed off the big-ass Tag Heuer he’d rewarded himself with after successfully not dying at the hands of Pestilence. Rhys wouldn’t have done anything. Zavier would’ve bought a sweet, sweet set of customized throwing knives.
“A more accurate answer is that the Horsemen were probably their last big attempt before the end. These daily skirmishes are simply to wear us down. Distract us.”
“Thinning the Nephilim herd?” Eva asked.
Gideon rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. Man, had it even been two full minutes since he’d last touched her? “Well, they didn’t succeed in flat-out murdering us. So exhausting us until we get sloppy isn’t a half-assed plan.”
“Hang on. Remember, it’s helpful to have Maisy and Liss here as we strategize. They’ve got an outsiders’ viewpoint. An objectivity that you all lack.” Eva pointed at the men in turn with the serving fork.
Rhys smirked. “You’re saying they’re the ones shouting that the emperor’s got no clothes?”
“More that perhaps we can’t see the forest for the innumerable green, scaly monsters hiding in it.”
Ha—Gideon had lucked into a woman with a dry wit and a stunning face. Although what Zavier had noticed about Eva first was her stubbornness. Like responded to like.
Maisy fluffed the cowl of her pink and white sweater. “I agree with Evangeline. You accept things without question. Sooo many things. Liss and I, we’re full to the brim with questions. I’ll bet our fresh eyes turn something up. Some hint at what could be the next step to the apocalypse. Or a deadly creature that’s a harbinger for it.”
Gideon and Zavier both waited for Rhys to respond. They were a team, but when one had to be chosen, Rhys was their de facto leader.
More to the point, Maisy was his girlfriend. So he had to respond to her offer of help. Zavier wasn’t at all sad to be let off the hook. It was a tricky situation. Like an adult trying to explain to a five-year-old why things weren’t fair. Why good people died and bad people lived their fat, happy, greedy lives three times longer.
“You know what? It can’t hurt.” It proved how head over heels in love with her Rhys was that he didn’t roll his eyes as he said it. “We’ll keep fighting. Keep poking at our contacts around the world. Evangeline will spend more time at the Nephilim stronghold’s library. Maisy, you can try to talk to the other Keepers to find us a clue.”
Liss clasped her hands on the table with a can-do smile. “I’m great at research. I’ve got a magic touch when it comes to refining Google searches. Plus, most of my temp jobs give me very little responsibility. I’ve got loads of time to pore through websites.”
Hell.
Just as Zavier was about to stick a harpoon in her bubble of hope, Eva did it for him. “That’s the thing, Liss. You can help. A little. But a lot of these older stories and legends are from other countries. Nephilim can read every language. You can’t.” At least her tone was gentle.
“Ah. Right. I should’ve known better than to think there was anything I could do besides being an albatross around your necks. I’m like your mascot. Unimportant.” She visibly shrank. Her shoulders hunched beneath her black jacket. Her head drooped, sending all that thick, inky hair spilling onto her chest.
That wasn’t Liss.
Liss was bold. Brassy. Always offering to pitch in, and always ready to poke fun.
It was obvious, between this and their talk at the yoga studio, that it hurt her, not to be able to do anything .
Zavier wouldn’t let any creature hurt her. And he damn well wouldn’t be the reason she was hurting.
“There’s a lot you can do online. Especially with Google Translate.” He looked deep into her dark eyes, framed with lashes so long that the ends almost touched her brows. “I’ll take you to a store I know. All the mystical books are in English. Old and rare. We’ll stock up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We’ll go tomorrow. Unless you’ve got a shift at one of your eighteen jobs.”
“I can swap it. This is worth losing what I’d make in a shift.” She beamed at him. “Thanks.”
“No need. Just making it so you can pull your weight.” Was he gruff? Yeah. Liss shouldn’t thank him. Not when it was his world that was currently fucking up her life.
“Can I ride that goodwill to ask another favor? Will you help me pick out a serious, witchy tome to give Aradia for Christmas?”
She could ask him to pluck her off the chair, fly to Hawaii, and lick her all over on a bed of moss. Or any variation of that.
Zavier would say yes …
Except that getting together with him would only end in disaster. So he kept his hands—and his tongue—to himself.