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Still, they studied him. What was he to make of this unexpected visit? Had he slipped up? What did they know? His brain whirled with possibilities, his thoughts unraveled as he ran through any errors he could have possibly made. All the same, his face remained passive, open, and questioning. He’d gotten good at slipping on a mask to hide his private thoughts. He’d made a deal with someone best not crossed to ensure that no one could read his thoughts or sniff out his intentions. Nor, in the case of those standing before him, dig up his past deeds from his memories alone. He was pretty sure that even the Almighty themself couldn’t detect his deeds, neither then, now, or yet to come. And boy, did he have some doozies in the works. It was going to be a fun day in Hell one of these days . . . For him anyway.
“You may or may not be aware that we keep detailed records of all cases that come through our department, including the histories of those involved as they relate to each case?” The shorter, slightly balding of the two Jurors, Shamsiel was his name, said, drawing Gabe’s wandering attention back to them.
“We haven’t, until now, kept track of any banished angel or other ethereally created beings. Except, of course, for what their punishment, as ordained by the Almighty, entailed. It has been brought to our attention that the time may have come for us to rectify such a lapse in judgment. We have been requested to look into several banished angels and maintain awareness of their locations and general interactions. So far none of those beings have been ones who were sent to the Realm of Nightmares, of rot and ruin, death and decay. I’m sure you are most likely aware that those who enter Nestradia never leave?” he added. Gabe was sure he heard a note of warning in the angel’s tone.
The other angel said nothing. Taller than the first, Ramiel was also wider and more intimidating. Menace radiated from his shrewd eyes. He was an angel of many talents. One with even more secrets. The head of the Praesidium always seemed to know things no one else could ever know. A trait he shared with Caine, except there was something more to Ramiel, something no one liked to dwell on long enough to figure out. His gaze bored a hole through Gabriel, at least to him it felt that way.
“And that brings you to our door. Why?” Shaking himself out of his musings, his tone seemed almost hostile, though he’d managed to rein it in by the barest amount as it left his lips, even as his eyes gleamed with a calculated hardness he hoped neither of them noticed.
“We will need to look through all personnel records of those no longer under your command, including those before you took command, as temporary as it currently is. Rest assured, we will be doing the same with the Shadow Hounds,” Ramiel rumbled, his voice was gruff and raspy as though he hadn’t used it in decades.
“Again, what are you hoping to find? As you said, you already keep track of all information pertaining to their cases. So, what do you hope to find?” Gabe pressed, knowing he had to tread with care. He watched as Ramiel’s full lips twitched, and his eyes glowed a light gold.
“There have been . . . reports of suspicious interactions with banished individuals and active angels. A direct violation of protocol, unless explicitly sanctioned.” Ramiel paused, for effect Gabe was sure.
“Accordingly, it is our duty to investigate each and every accusation and/or suspicious circumstance. In accordance with that, we will actually need access to all personnel records; past and current. Also, we have complete authority to access all areas of this compound and question any person we deem of interest. All teams, no matter how involved in the day to day they may be.” He finished, a full-fledged smirk on his brutal features. His teeth flashed white like the predator he absolutely was.
Gabe felt sweat slide down his spine and coat his palms. Shit. Fuck. How the fuck was this happening? He was always careful. He had no leaks, of that he was sure. It was even more imperative to tread carefully. His contacts would need to lie low, and he’d have to back off his plans for a while. After calling Denario into the room, he turned back to his pesky guests.
“I understand. You will have the full cooperation of all angels under my command and access to any area of the facilities that you need. Denario will be your guide and help you in any way you need while you are here. Although, I do request that should you need to enter the rooms or private facilities of any of the females herein, please notify Denario. We have a policy of no males entering those facilities while they are in use. If a female is to be questioned or their rooms inspected, another angel of her choice is to be present. Such has always been the protocol, but reminders never hurt.” With a nod to Denario, he introduced them and instructed his lackey to assist them.
“If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I still have a lot to do today.” With a half bow, he turned on his heels and headed to the doors. He only made it two steps before turning his head back to them.
“I would appreciate it if you could share any pertinent information with me once you have finished your investigation here. If any of my Reapers are involved, I need to know. I’m sure you understand steps would need to be taken to ensure it doesn’t happen again, yes?” With that he walked with haughty assurance out the door, striding toward his private office, one last phone call to make before it was too late.
The call had been expected. Dreaded more like it. Things had not gone the way Gabe had envisioned. Hadn’t gone the way he’d expected them to either. It wasn’t his fault Gabe had failed to highlight Lucifer’s deterioration. His intel had been good. He had no idea what had happened between then and now. What he did know was that he’d probably get reamed in four . . . three . . . two . . . one.
Drawing in a deep breath he hit the answer button and Gabe’s face appeared on the magically enhanced, untraceable human cell phone. Whatever he’d thought would happen . . . He’d been wrong.
Gabe’s face was pale. More pale than normal, and that’s saying something for someone who gave white chalk a run for its money on a good day. He looked clammy, and his hushed and whispered words passed through barely moving lips on a tidal wave of panic.
“Cease all activities until further notice. Put the word out to all operatives. The Praesidium has eyes and ears everywhere. Soon they will be on your doorstep too. For the time being, all plans are on hold. Cover your asses and hope to the high heavens you all cover mine, or you won’t like the consequences.”
The line disconnected with a click that sounded loud in the silence of his room and left a sour taste on his tongue. The Praesidium . . . His hand clenched around the device still clasped within it, hard. The dust of what remained drifted to the floor as he relaxed. Luckily the cell phone was the only physical evidence of his involvement. Still, the reality of his situation was filtering through the thrill of the game and the haze that always hung behind his eyes.
Chapter 7
The moment Azaroth entered the room lightning sizzled up and down Athon’s spine. If he didn’t know better he’d think his rainbow mohawk had lit up like a tree at Christmas. It hurt to look at the male across the room from him, feelings flooded him with an intensity he could never deny, but it hurt so much more to look away.
Once upon a time they’d been so much more than what they’d become. They’d loved so hard, so completely, but they both knew they’d been missing something. Some indefinable piece of the puzzle, yet they’d been so determined to make it work. Then, Athon had run across Mara, and she’d seemed like the answer, the piece that might make their puzzle whole. What a royal fuck up that had been. Her name meant female wrath and bitterness, and she’d taken that and ran with it. She’d torn Azaroth apart and stomped on Athon’s hopes and love until they’d both crumbled. Neither left with a piece fit for any puzzle for a very long time.
Hundreds of years had passed since then. Athon had rebuilt himself, always holding the love he had for Azaroth within, waiting for him to realize they still had each other . . . And still he waited.
About eight years ago Roth had changed again. No matter what they tried, he’d brushed them off again and again. It felt like history repeating. The angry outbursts, the withdrawal from the team, the weird behavior . . . only milder, less, yet so similar to how Luc had returned to them all those years ago.
Speaking of Luc. Dante’s little prank had helped break the mood and lifted him out of his own head. He was in for some major retribution though. About time too. Dante tended to get away with his pranks and juvenile shit far too often. It was so fucking good to see Luc simply be Luc again. Watching Roth smile, his eyes sparkling, his kissable lips parted on the cusp of a heartfelt laugh . . . Thinking on it, his tongue played with the ring through the right side of his lower lip and his cock hardened. The last time he’d had the pleasure of Azaroth’s company his own body had been free of piercings and art. He knew that Roth had some of his own. He didn’t know what though as Roth had kept his distance and Athon avoided temptation as much as he could. God, what he’d give for the chance to explore that male’s body again. Relearn every hard plane, discover every difference . . .
He’d have to thank the little shit later, his friend had done so well in bringing two of his favorite people such a moment of lighthearted joy.
Throughout the meeting with Gabe, Athon’s eyes never wavered from Roth’s face. Gabe could go screw himself if he thought he’d show the prejudiced asshole any respect. He was an intolerant prick who’d made it very clear as to what he thought of his and Roth’s relationship when he’d found out. Fucking hypocrite. Like he hadn’t caught him with his pants down a time or two in a less than hetero scenario. Probably why he glared at Athon with jealous envy and hatred whenever their paths had crossed. Like he gave a shit how Gabe got his dick wet as long as it had nothing to do with him, Roth, or anyone he cared about. He wouldn’t want Gabriel near any decent being.
Funny that Luc had brought up Jeannie though, considering Gabe and his proclivities had extended far beyond just the king’s mistress, even if he post-justified it as a way to secure the lady in question. Kinda made you feel sorry for the guy, until you realized what an all around asshat he’d always been.
Finally, the farce of a meeting was over, soon they’d be dismissed, and he could watch Roth’s ass as he strode from the room. Honestly, some of the best moments of his life in the last few centuries had centered around watching and thinking about that ass and those ‘let me fuck you’ eyes. Except, a new report flashed up on the screen, and for the first time since the meeting had started Athon’s gaze left Roth and focussed on the viewscreen. Roth’s gasp and the sound of snapping wood put him on immediate alert. Something major was about to go down.
The screen went black and Luc seemed to calm somewhat. Roth dropped his head into his hands and ran agitated fingers through his hair before looking up and staring blankly over Athon’s shoulder. Seriously, what the fuck was up with that anyway? Roth’s words looked like they were lodged in his throat and Luc’s jovial prodding shocked them all. It also put them all on alert. Because maybe, just maybe, it could be that bad.
Roth inhaled deeply before the words spilled from his mouth, leaving Athon’s hanging open. What he said was baffling and yet made so much sense. He informed them about a mysterious pale woman with killer red hair and gray eyes from a random alley eight years ago. The zap he felt as her arm brushed his. Athon’s brain tripped over the details. Roth was feeling again, about a woman . . . Not the same as he’d felt for Athon, but equally as intense. Where did that leave him? What did it mean?
