Читать книгу Death Sword - Pamela Turner - Страница 8

3

“You can’t be serious.” Xariel stared at Metatron. A direct order of immolation would have made more sense. He glanced at Karla. Metatron wanted her for this?

Metatron nodded. Even seated behind his massive desk, one couldn’t ignore his towering height.

“I am. Train Karla as an angel of death.”

“Why not Gabriel?”

“Because I want her to work with you and Samael.” Metatron beamed at Xariel from beneath blond bangs. Wide blue eyes only enhanced his innocent expression. Xariel knew better. Other angels might call Metatron “pretty boy” behind his back, but assuming he was a pushover often resulted in career suicide.

“You know how Samael is,” Xariel protested.

Metatron cocked his head. An endearing gesture, but Xariel sensed tension crackling underneath.

“Thanks for talking about me in front of my back.”

They turned. Karla leaned against the concrete wall, arms crossed. She frowned. “I don’t know why I’m here, and I’m not interested in this angel-of-death gig. So maybe you–” She jabbed her index finger at Xariel. “–could send me home.”

Metatron’s smile faded. “Impossible.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Metatron leaned forward, chin resting atop interlaced fingers, arms forming a modified triangle. “Your will means nothing here.”

Karla opened her mouth as if to argue, but Metatron raised his hand.

“Like it or not, your future’s set.” He leaned back. “Haven’t you wondered why you’re different from other people?”

Karla stiffened. “Pretty obvious.”

“The heterochromia’s only part of it. Your mother never told you about your father?”

“Mother left right after I was born.” Karla spat the emphasized word as if it were poison.

“I see. I assume your adopted father didn’t know.”

Karla gave him a what-the-hell-do-you-mean look.

“Your real father is Azazel. You’re a descendant of the Grigori.”

Karla’s expression didn’t change. “Grigori?”

“Angels also known as Watchers,” Xariel explained. “We left Heaven to live among you. Azazel was one of our leaders.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Any reason to doubt us?” Metatron’s stern tone of voice reminded Xariel of a strict teacher disciplining an unruly student.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a lot to process,” Metatron admitted, coming around the desk. He took Karla’s chin in hand, tilting her face until their eyes met. “Your destiny is to be an angel of death. Fight it and not only will you suffer, but others will as well.”

He turned to Xariel. “Take her to meet Samael.”

Xariel groaned inwardly but nodded, not allowing his expression to give a hint of displeasure. “It’d be better if you talked to him.”

“There’s no reason Samael should question you. He knows it’s a direct order.”

Xariel knew better than to argue. He opened the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the rest of the dysfunctional family.”

He swore Metatron snickered as the door shut behind them.

“Who’s Samael?” Karla hurried beside Xariel, her shorter legs no match for his long strides.

“My boss. He and Gabriel are Metatron’s seconds-in-command.”

They stopped at a bank of elevators. Xariel pressed the down button. Moments later a car door hissed open, allowing them access.

They stepped inside the elevator. Karla stood in the corner, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket. She wore the same outfit from last night, but now she looked vulnerable and not at all like the confident young woman who’d challenged him. Xariel watched as she glanced from the doors to the control panel, chewing on her lower lip, as if fearful he’d hit the stop button and trap them between floors. Not that he had any intention, although he wasn’t eager to reach their destination any time soon.

Bad enough she had tried to evade him at the nightclub. If Metatron wanted him to train her as an angel of death, she needed to accept her circumstances. True, she’d been thrown into a situation she probably felt powerless to control and, technically, she’d be right. But he also had to deal with this new problem thrust upon him, one he didn’t appreciate. If he had known Metatron’s intentions, he would have refused the assignment and taken any punishment.

The car shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open. Karla glanced at Xariel before stepping out. He followed, steeling himself for the dreaded meeting. Face-to-face encounters with Samael always left him in a bad mood and he doubted this time would be any different.

They stood in the hallway. Here, temperatures hovered near freezing and Karla shivered, despite her coat. Concrete walls painted battleship gray and floors covered with sky-blue industrial carpet added to the overall austere atmosphere.

“It’ll get colder,” Xariel warned her as he led the way down the corridor.

They stopped before a locked gray metal door. Xariel rapped three times. “Watch your step.” Before he could elaborate, the door swung open on silent hinges.

Once inside, the door automatically closed and locked behind them. Karla peered around Xariel’s side, her expression apprehensive.

He didn’t blame her. Samael’s office unnerved him, no matter how many times he entered it. Memories best forgotten reared taunting heads whenever he crossed the threshold.

Here walls were painted dark red. Lanterns cast sickly yellow glows. Lights flickered madly, casting long, erratic shadows from ceiling to floor. Wall-to-wall black carpet rounded out the Gothic decor.

Karla stepped forward, boots sinking in plush pile. Before Xariel could shout a warning, a massive black dog, its red eyes glowing, snarled and lunged at her.

Karla screamed. She stumbled back against Xariel, who steadied her.

“Black Shuck, heel,” he commanded.

The hellhound lowered his head, glaring at her. Karla trembled. Xariel placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. Black Shuck doesn’t like strangers.” He scratched the canine’s shaggy head.

After licking Xariel’s hand in greeting, the dog lumbered to where Samael sat behind an obsidian desk, carved and polished to a sheen, engraved demons, gargoyles, and skulls decorating the front and side panels. Black Shuck lay down beside Samael, muzzle resting on forepaws. Every so often, he growled low in his throat at Karla.

“What brings you here?” Samael’s voice was smooth, like aged whiskey, but undercut with a hint of annoyance. Strands of blood-colored hair fell into his amber eyes and he brushed the bangs back, giving him an uncombed, careless appearance. Despite the chill, he wore short sleeves.

Xariel drew a deep breath. This was it. He’d deal with repercussions later. “Metatron wants Karla to work for you as an angel of death.”

He expected Samael to dismiss him with a derisive comment, but one never knew what the capricious angel of death and chief of satans would do or say.

“I see.” Samael waved Karla over. He gave her a cursory look, yawned, and turned away.

“What the fuck–” Karla looked over her shoulder at Xariel.

Xariel put a hand on her arm, staying her. He shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. Angering Samael wasn’t like upsetting Metatron. Xariel knew firsthand the ramifications of Samael’s punishments. He wanted to spare her the unpleasantness.

“Wait outside, human,” Samael ordered.

The door swung open. Karla looked at Xariel for confirmation. He nodded. She shrugged and left, muttering expletives loud enough for them to hear.

The door locked again. Xariel tensed. Samael moved toward him, a predatory look in his eyes. Xariel shrank back and Samael huffed in disapproval.

“Not pleased to see an old friend?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Xariel retorted.

Samael smiled, tracing a finger up Xariel’s suit jacket sleeve. The latter trembled. “Maybe not. Still, why bring human filth here? A human as an angel of death?” Samael sneered. “Don’t tell me Metatron’s become senile.”

“Hardly.”

“What do you think?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve my orders.”

“Why not have her work with Gabriel?” Samael’s finger caressed Xariel’s nape, his touch icy.

Xariel shivered.

Samael’s smile turned into a smirk. “I forgot. You’re not on good terms with him, are you?”

Xariel glared. “You made sure of that.”

“It’s better this way.” His palm cupped Xariel’s cheek. “We could go back to those days. Remember? You were happy. Don’t deny it.”

Xariel shook his head.

“Do you think it’s over? Or have you already fallen in love with her?”

“Of course not!” Xariel’s voice choked. “We just met.” He liked Karla, but if Samael even assumed he was interested in her, his boss would see an opportunity to cause trouble. Xariel’s skin crawled as he remembered what had happened to the other women in his life.

“Then she won’t mind this, will she?” Samael caught Xariel’s wrist, pulling him into a deep kiss. One arm snaked around Xariel’s waist, holding him fast. Xariel’s eyes widened as Samael’s tongue invaded his mouth, breath hot and smelling of cinnamon mints.

Samael broke the kiss first. He spat at the floor, face twisted in disgust. “I can taste them.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and scowled. “You still choose humans over me.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised.” Xariel’s knees gave way. He gripped the edge of Samael’s desk to steady himself. “I told you we’re through.”

Samael didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to a vertical black-lacquered cabinet mounted on the wall behind his desk. Xariel swallowed as he watched Samael remove a rapier, the basket-hilted handle intricately carved with ancient scrollwork. His eyes fixed on the dark yellow substance coating the blade tip. Venom. One drop would kill a human. Even angels weren’t immune.

The sword glinted beneath the lights and Xariel thought he saw, for a brief second, Samael’s eyes blaze red and his hair fan about his face in a fiery halo. Xariel choked back a gag reflex when tiny eyes popped up over Samael’s skin and the chief of satan’s mouth twisted in a cruel grin, revealing sharp incisors.

Xariel closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, the illusion was gone and only Samael’s smile remained, minus the vampire impression.

“Perhaps I should make the human your partner.” Samael stroked the blade, running his tongue between his lips as he watched Xariel’s reaction. “After all, you seem to prefer their company.”

Xariel winced at the inference.

“However, if you think I’m giving you up, you’re mistaken.” Samael lowered the sword to his side. “Dismissed.”