Fate's Consort Read online

What do you want, Peter?

  You as my Consort, Analise Willoughby. You will become a second Lilith and rule by my side.

  Nathanson stood over her, his hands bloodied, a slow beating heart rested on his right palm, his harsh face colorless as he stared at her. Crimson-tipped wings flared behind him, his anger vibrating along their edges. She trembled with each thump of the bloodied heart. Unable to stop herself, she tilted her head. Mer mouth opened in a silent scream when she saw the gaping hole in her chest, blood seeping rather than flowing from the opening. She lifted her gaze to Peter’s face. His pale skin and lifeless blue of his eyes sent shivers down her spine.

  She died for him, gave her life for my brother. He took from me, I will take from him. I lost my life mate. You will take her place as my bond mate, Analise. You and everything you possess will belong to me as a blood gift.

  Peter extended his hand. Here is Lilith’s heart, take it.

  Analise’s scream echoed in her bedroom as she bolted upright in her bed. Her heart pounded, her breaths coming in desperate gasps. She pressed her palm to her chest before she jerked it away and stared at her fingers. Where was the hole, the blood? Where—

  Dream Candy’s voice whipped into her awareness. You must leave now, Consort. My brother knows who you are.

  “What fucking game are you playing, Peter?”

  This is no game, and I am not Peter Nathanson. Come to me.

  Rage streaked her voice as she demanded, “And where would that be?” When he pushed an image into her head, she shook her head. “No, I won’t return there. Ever.”

  Analise Saria, you must leave now.

  An incessant buzz grew louder, adding urgency to the moment. It took Analise a few seconds to recognize the source of the noise. Reaching over to her nightstand, she patted the surface until her fingers closed over her phone. She unlocked it and pressed an icon. Mark’s face filled the screen.

  “Get dressed, Lise, we’re waiting outside.”

  “Mark, what the hell is going on? Why are you calling me at zero-dark-thirty?”

  Her brain went from zero to one hundred wakefulness. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “What do you mean you’re waiting outside? What’s going on?”

  “Get dressed and to the lobby, Lise,” he snapped.

  Analise scrambled out of bed and hurried into her bathroom. Washing her face and brushing her teeth, she shook as panic set in. Mark was in a state, and in all the years she’s known him being in a state wasn’t part of his makeup. Then there was her nightmare, and Dream Candy’s bizarre demand. Something wasn’t right about the dream. Rather than worry the thought to death, she dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Grabbing a jacket, she left her apartment.

  It wasn’t until she walked out of the elevator and into the lobby that she realized she hadn’t doubled-checked her alarm system. A shiver slid down her spine when she approached the security desk. Through the plated glass lobby doors she saw Roger walking toward the building. The man’s expression was pure granite, not even his usual half-smile creased his dark brown face. Her gaze swept the area around the SUV parked near the curb.

  “What are you doing up so early, Ms. Drake? I never see you when I leave for work.”

  Analise whirled to see one of the building’s residents coming toward her from the elevator. The woman’s smile was cheery and Analise couldn’t help but return it. “Hi, Tampa. Not sure but I’ll probably pay for it. Since I know you have a drive, go ahead.”

  She stood to one side to let her leave. As she followed Tampa through the door, Analise froze. A thick, noxious mist formed and positioned itself between her and Tampa. What transpired happened so quickly, Analise wasn’t sure she was fully awake.

  Sinewy arms grabbed Tampa and dragged her into the fog. Analise reacted without thin king and reached into the cloud. She gripped Tampa’s arm and jerked. Tampa’s body fell onto on the sidewalk. Her stomach had been ripped open, blood pouring over the curb into the gutter. Barely alive, Tampa tried to speak, lifting her hand to Analise’s blood-splattered ones. Tampa’s arm fell to the pavement, her body shuddering violently before it ceased.

  Analise slowly backed toward the building as something emerged from the mist. It stepped on Tampa’s lifeless body as if it weren’t there. Too shocked to scream, Analise stared at the creature. Part of her mind recognized it, recalled where she’d seen its likeness on a cave wall in Algeria. That part of her mind labeled it, and wondered what the hell was a soul-seeker—a demon—doing outside her building?

  Her back bumped the door handle. Analise fisted her fingers, prepared to fight even if she lost. The soul-seeker halted. Tenting its fingertips, it brought them to its forehead. “My Queen, I come to escort you to my Sire.”

  “This is unexpected,” she mumbled as she reached one hand behind her to grip the door handle. “I think you’ve made a mistake about. . .what the hell?”

  The fog formed once more. Damp tentacles snaked around her legs and began to crawl up her thighs until they reached her hips and tightened. Finding herself jerked from the door, Analise began to fight. A growl rose to her throat and died as she attempted to shift. The demon’s energy locked her muscles and organs, keeping the cat contained inside her. Unable to move, her fear grew. She was going to end up like Tampa, her body ripped in half and her blood feeding the gutter. Then, as if things couldn’t be worse, she stared openmouthed as the demon’s fingers clenched her forearm and tugged.

  She was so fucked.

  Analise closed her eyes, refusing to look death in the eyes, which was why it took a second to notice a) she wasn’t dead, and b) the odd heat swirling about her. She focused on the two patterns that made up the heat. One pattern was dark and shaped like a thin tail flowing from the soul-seeker. The second heat moved in faint swirls of white tinged with blue. It was wrapped tightly around the mist. Analise gasped when the invisible restraints loosened. Afraid to move, she glanced down. Gray droplets spatter on the sidewalk and evaporated like water on a hot pan.

  “Get to the car, Ms. Drake.”

  Without thinking about it, she skittered away from the door and toward the SUV. The demon immediately blocked her escape until a blinding brightness shoved the demon out of her path. The soul-seeker whirled to face the threat and froze. Analise’s lips parted then snapped closed when she saw what emerged from the brightness. She’d been rescued by an angel.

  Magnificent alabaster wings fanned out behind the angel’s naked dark brown torso. Damn, the man’s abs were ripped. Her gaze lifted to the angel’s face and she shrieked. It was Roger, well except for the wings and the golden highlights in his dark auburn hair.

  The familiarity distracted her from the demon as she tried to place what she was seeing. It was like a scene out of a movie or. . .

  It was a painting of a Black Raphael done by a sixteenth-century Dutch painter. She wished could remember his name. That didn’t matter. Roger was a shifter capable of mimicking angels.

  As she stared at Raphael, Analise forgot all about the demon. Excitement surged inside her and her brain immediately went into analytical overdrive. Roger was a unique type of shifter to be capable of creating illusions, which meant shifter DNA was more complicated than she thought. She needed to get Roger’s DNA.

  The hiss of a sword breached her thoughts and Analise squinted. Roger/Raphael held a silver sword, flames dancing along the edge of the blade. Oh yeah, definitely Raphael.

  He glided between her and the soul-seeker, his voice sizzling with fury when he commanded the demon to return to his master. The demon’s head swung toward Roger. The soul-seeker’s striated gray eyes were ominously bright. “You would interfere in my master’s business?”

  The soul-seeker leaned toward Roger. “What is your name so I can add it to the list of those who would challenge Abdiel?”

  Roger lowered the tip of his sword. The edges of his wings flared blue and his mouth curved upward into a mocking smile. “Do you not recognize me, Abdiel?”
r />   Both Analise and the demon squinted against the unnatural brightness to see a pair of the blue-tinged wings. Abdiel abruptly stepped back, never taking his eyes off Roger, which surprised Analise. She studied the demon’s face. Fear replaced his confidence as his entire body curved inward. His chin lowered until it rested against his chest.

  “Guardian.”

  Roger acknowledged him. “How did you find the Tamahaq?”

  The demon’s gaze shot to Analise as if seeing her for the first time. His body began to leak a foul-smelling wetness. She covered her mouth with her hand, struggling not to breathe in the odor. Note to self: a terrified demon is nasty.

  She wondered whether the nastiness was also the case for shifters or telepaths. Turning her head, she sniffed her shoulder. What she smelled was her favorite body soap. Telepaths were apparently exempt. She’d have to discover if shifters suffered the same problem as Abdiel or whether it was unique to the demonic.

  Focus, Tamahaq. She chided.

  Analise blew out an embarrassed breath. Sorry, but it is really curious.

  “Let me return to my Sire, Guardian. He doesn’t know an archangel has claimed her.”

  “I cannot Abdiel.”

  The blade descended so swiftly Analise wasn’t sure what she saw was real. Only when Abdiel’s head toppled to the pavement did she react, her scream piercing the air when the severed head burst into flames. She screamed a second time as Roger pushed the tip into the demon’s chest, twisting until what remained was a gaseous cloud.

  Her body began to shudder. Closing her eyes, she muttered, “I didn’t see that. I did not see that.”

  The rapid pounding of her heart replaced the echo of her words in her head. Nausea pushed up her esophagus and into her throat, a thick clog that competed with air to flee her lungs. She fought to bring the sick feeling under control, to stop the shaking.

  “We need to leave, Ms. Drake.”

  Analise jumped, her fist swinging wildly until she realized it was her driver. Roger stood before her fully clothed, his russet brown hair. . .was russet, and. . .“you were the archangel Raphael,” she stammered. “How—“

  “We have to go, Ms. Drake. Please get in the car, there may be more of them,” Roger hissed.

  “Fine,” she said, but I want answers.”

  Roger moved in front of her and opened the door. She scooted as close to Mark as possible. Her gaze swept the front seat. Will was driving so she latched on to that fact. Roger slid in beside her and she had to stifle her reactive recoil.

  “What are you?”

  He glanced at her before he closed the car door. “Your guardian, Ms. Drake.”

  Will pulled away from the curb. Analise eyed Roger. Shifter, archangel, or whatever, he was still on AnthroGen’s payroll. First, she needed to deal with Tampa’s death and the demon.

  “Mark. Tampa—”

  “It’s taken care of,” he said tersely. “Lise, Mei Li is dead and Iris is missing.”

  Analise’s gaze whipped to Mark’s face. Her chest tightened as if someone just punched her. Nausea forced her to swallow hard. “What do you mean . . . how can . . . I was with them last night.”

  She squeezed her fingers into tight fists. “I dropped them off at Iris’ place last night after dinner. Roger was driving. Mei Li was to see her aunt today before heading back to Santa Cruz. She was fine. They were both fine.”

  “Someone broke into Iris’ apartment,” Mark said. “Because they worked for AnthroGen, the homicide detective contacted Jess. I just left the morgue.”

  Her fingernails dug into her palms as Analise shook her head. “No, no, this isn’t happening again.”

  When Mark reach for her hand, she slapped his fingers away. Rage and fear welled up inside her. “Was it like Martine’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  He reached for her again. “Lise.”

  “Tell me,” she shouted. “My day is already insane. I had a nightmare about Peter Nathanson and a bloody heart and a hole in my chest. I walk out of my building to watch a neighbor ripped apart by a demon.” She sucked in air and blew it out. “Roger turns into a Black archangel and beheads the demon. A demon who shouldn’t exist but does . . . did. I’m hysterical and trying hard not to be.”

  She grabbed Mark’s hand. “You’re not doing me any favors by opting for the gentle blow. Just tell me, did Mei Li die the same way as Martine?”

  Mark sighed and flattened his back against the seat. “Yes.”

  “Where were they, the marks?”

  “Lise.”

  She growled at him. “Fuck, Mark, affirm what I already know.”

  “The mandrake root was above Mei Li’s navel. The two pentagrams were on her chest, one on each side of her heart, and a burning branch carved on her left cheek.”

  “What kind of sadistic asshole. . .?” Analise shuddered and closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she lifted wet eyelashes. “Was it there?”

  Mark handed her a plastic police evidence bag. Her fingers trembled as she took it. The contrast between the transparency of the bag and the feather inside was jarring. The feather was stark in its whiteness except for the faint line of burnt umber color running along its edge. Not a single drop of blood existed on the feather, which didn’t surprise her. The killer was thorough. She knew because, even without testing the feather, there was no DNA residue.

  “It’s my fault. They’re dead because of me, Tampa and Mei Li.”

  “We don’t know that, Ms. Drake.”

  She jerked her head in Roger’s direction. “I fucking do. Remember the soul-seeker? It came after me.”

  Analise handed the bag back to Mark. “Were Mei Li’s aunt and Iris’ family notified? We need to call Richard and let him know So he can talk to my employees. I have to go to Santa Cruz. And Tampa. . .we need to contact her next of kin.”

  She heard the detachment in her voice. Cool, calm, and collected — the perfect poster child for the unemotional professional in a time of crisis. What in the world was wrong with her? How in the hell did she get to a place of acceptance? Family and friends murdered. What does she do? Slip into CEO mode, start managing things.

  Richard’s words came back to her and Analise trembled. When did she lose her ability to weep, to ugly cry? To feel? A woman torn apart in front of her, Mei Li was brutally murdered, and what burning question did she have? Where did the killer put the symbols on Mei Li’s body?

  “Richard’s been contacted. Grief counselors are with Mei Li’s aunt and Iris’ family,” Mark said. “We can’t go to Santa Cruz, Lise. We also can’t stay in the city.”

  “Why not, and where are we going?” Her voice was shrill but she didn’t care.

  “You can blame me, Ms. Drake. There’s business we need to take care of related to your security. Your employees and their families will have to wait until we return.”

  The front-seat passenger turned and peered at her across the top of the seat. Analise’s eyes narrowed when she spied the Tamahaq braid along the left side of his face. She’d never seen an Imohag with one. It was the Tamahaq’s mark.

  Analise’s eyes speared the face turned to her. “What gives you the right to wear that braid? And who the hell are you?”

  “Gabriel Angelis. My company sees to all your security needs, Ms. Drake.”

  The man’s gray eyes revealed nothing. Just this one time she wanted to snatch a person’s thoughts. She noticed he answered only one of her questions. She nodded and looked at Mark.

  “I need you to talk to me, Mark. My paranoia has jumped to unprecedented levels over the past ten minutes. I’m also on the edge of maniacal screaming. I take it all my drivers are employees of Mr. Angelis. I also assume they are Seal or Ranger trained, even sweetheart Patrick.”

  She thought she heard Roger snigger but when she side-eyed him, his face was impassive. “What unnerves me is not knowing I’m protected by a shifter or shifters. There’s more going on than driving Miss Daisy. Especially
since the head of a security company is engaged in a ride-along.”

  “Don’t you think it’s odd, Ms. Drake, a demon suddenly appears at the same time Peter Nathanson makes an offer for your company?” Angelis asked. “Or, one of your employees is murdered, and the other kidnapped the day before the demon pays you a visit.”

  Analise’s gaze whipped to Angelis. “Are you saying one of the wealthiest men on the planet arranged for the soul-seeker to show up at my door and rip one of my tenants in half? One word, asinine, Mr. Angelis. I’m sure Peter need not hire a demon to get what he wants.”

  “Merely food for thought, Ms. Drake,” Gabriel offered. “Glad you recognized the demon who came after you. It will make guarding you easier.”

  Analise glared at him. “After this morning’s meet and greet, I’m less skeptical about supernaturals. I suppose I’ll meet an angel next. Wait, I already did,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t you think you should inform your clients you employ shifters?”

  Angelis offered her two plastic bags. “I found these feathers near your Santa Cruz lab and your apartment building. They’re identical to the one left next to Ms. Kwan’s body.”

  Analise glanced at the feathers without taking the bags. She knew what they meant. “We’re dealing with a human psychopath.”

  “I’m not so certain,” Angelis stated. “Until I’m sure these incidents are unrelated, I will treat them as connected.”

  He turned his back to Analise. She clenched her teeth, struggling to control her temper. Something about Angelis set her teeth on edge, and it wasn’t just that he wore the Tamahaq braid. She slow counted to ten before she asked, “Where are we going, Mark?”

  “New Mexico.”

  “Why New Mexico, and don’t you think it’s strange we disappear the day after Mei Li dies? I’d want to speak with the person who last saw Mei Li and Iris alive, which would be me.” She paused. “I guess having a police commissioner husband comes in handy.”

  “Unbecoming, Empress,” Mark returned.

  She gripped his hand. “Turn the car around. Mei Li was an employee and a best friend.”

  “You’re AnthroGen. It makes you a target,” Mark stated. “What’s to stop the killer from coming after you next?”