A heavy, impenetrable silence filled the car, despite the instrumental Barry Manilow elevator music that whispered around them. He listened to her breathing, then sharpened his hearing to listen to her heart beating. It was so impossibly steady, like a machine. He used to listen to his own heartbeat, and he’d curse the mark that stole its ability to race or skip. Was a person’s humanity contingent upon that organ? And if so, was the removal of its frailties the catalyst that led to the removal of a Mark’s soul?
In the past, it was only when he was in a firm that he felt truly vital. He had come to crave the feeling of renewal. Until he’d met Eve, he hadn’t known of any other way to feel so alive. It scared him that the last time he had entered this building—in his pursuit of Eve—he hadn’t felt anything at all until he found her.
The elevator slowed, then stopped with a ding. The doors opened and Manilow’s “Mandy” was drowned out by pandemonium.
A screaming banshee’s wail rent the air, as well as any nearby eardrums. Two writhing bodies, locked in combat, rolled past the elevator. One was covered in coarse animal hair, the other boasted flowing inky tresses. A werewolf and a lili. Around them, a crowd made up mostly of Infernals had gathered to feed off the negative energy.
In the corner on the left, a receptionist’s desk was staffed by another wolf, this one in human form. She stood, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, watching the melee with a wide smile. To the right, chairs lined the walls, filled with both Marks and Infernals waiting for processing. The untrained eye might see the crowd and think it was Halloween. The mixture of oddly dressed and naked Infernals wouldn’t make sense on any other day of the year. Straight ahead was the hallway that led to the various offices. That’s where Alec was headed, if everyone would get out of the way.
Alec stepped out of the elevator and held the door for Eve. She stared at the ruckus with wide eyes. Her fingers pinched her nostrils closed and she yelled, “What is this place?”
“Hell on Earth.”
He didn’t raise his voice, but the din around them quieted as if he’d shouted.
“Cain,” the receptionist breathed, blinking momentarily before dropping into her seat. The standing crowd also sank into their chairs. The couple on the floor gaped at him; the wolf with his terrible maw and the lili with her perfect pouting lips. Locked together in a mock embrace, they seemed to forget that they had been tearing each other apart mere seconds ago.
“Are you done?” Alec asked them with a raised brow.
“It stinks down ’ere,” Eve mumbled through her plugged nose.
“He insulted me,” the lili said, disentangling herself and pushing to her feet.
“She has a nice rack,” the werewolf rumbled, straightening.
Alec looked at the lili. “You couldn’t take that as a compliment?”
“I could die today,” she muttered. “I want to go out with some respect.”
“We could all die today,” Eve drawled, dropping her hand. The wolf shifted into his naked human form and she whistled.
Alec gritted his teeth. “It’s not polite to stare.”
“I have a better chance of dying than most,” the lili retorted, glaring at Eve. She turned her demonic green gaze to Alec. “You suck. I thought older brothers were supposed to be protective.”
“If I’m older than you,” he countered, “I’m not your brother.”
Eve’s mouth fell open.
“You could act on the principle of it,” the lili argued.
“She’s a lilin,” he explained to Eve, grabbing her elbow with his free hand and tugging her away from the blatantly interested wolf. “One hundred of them die daily. They never know when their number is going to be up.”
“Brother?”
“She wishes,” he scoffed. “My dad hasn’t talked to Lilith in ages. And that lili is too impetuous to be older than me.”
“I’m confused. Who’s Lilith?”
Alec looked at the receptionist just as she was lifting the phone receiver from its cradle. “Cain’s here,” she said to whoever had answered. She beamed at Alec, then winked. Wrapped around that flirtatious eye was the detail that labeled her a werewolf, formerly under the rule of Mammon, the demon god of avarice.
“Lilith was my dad’s first wife.” Alec hefted the punch bowl and directed Eve down the hall. The sound of their booted footfalls on the polished concrete echoed ahead of them. Behind them, furious whispers followed.
Eve’s sloe eyes widened. “First wife? I thought Adam had Eve, and that was it.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, seriously. Why didn’t I know that? No one’s ever told me that.”
“Angel.” Alec opened a glass inset door that said Forensic Wiccanology in gold sticker lettering. “One thing at a time.”
Inside the room, the overhead lights were out. Pendant lamps hung over various island stations, spotlighting specific work areas.
“Cain!” The coarseness of the voice was reminiscent of Larry King and it originated from the distant right corner. “It’s been far too long since you came to see me.”
Alec’s head turned to find the robe-clad crone who approached with a shuffling stride. As she moved from the shadows into the light, she changed from a hunch-back into a lovely, willowy redhead. Her robe altered from an all-encompassing shroud to a tightly fit and strategically cut gown.
“Hello, Hank,” Alec greeted. He held out the punch bowl. “I need you to find the Nix who touched this.”
Hank’s full lips curved in a winsome smile. “I’ll do my best.” She looked at Eve, her head tilting. She shifted form again, taking on the appearance of a firmly muscled, carrot-topped male. The gown changed into a black dress shirt and matching slacks. “Nice to meet you.”
Eve blinked rapidly. “Hi.”
Alec touched her elbow. “Evangeline, meet Hank. Hank, this is Eve.”
“Hi, Eve.” Hank licked his lips.
Eve waved lamely.
“We’ll check in later,” Alec said, pulling Eve toward the door.
“Bring her with you when you come back.” As Hank moved away, his form returned to that of a stooped crone.
Once they were in the hall, Eve took a deep breath and wondered if the stench of Infernals was affecting her brain. She looked at Alec. “I feel like one of my teenage acid trips has come back to haunt me.”
“Not possible.”
“What is Hank?”
“An occultist. A demon who specializes in the magical arts and tapping into the power that threads through all of nature.”
“No, I meant is it male or female?”
Alec shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Great. What is this place?” She tried breathing through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, but it was pointless. The odor was steeped into the walls. “Unless my nose is completely wrong, I’d say most of these beings are demonic.”
“Your nose isn’t wrong.” He pointed down the hall. “It’s an amalgamation of things. Various Infernal entities are kept here because they’re useful in some way.”
“Kept?” Eve took in her surroundings with an examining eye. The lower level of Gadara Tower reminded her of a fifties film noir with its muted lighting, inlaid glass doors, and smoky air.
“Some are held against their will,” Alec clarified, “others come by choice, because they want protection. There’s no such thing as honor among the damned. If you piss off the wrong guy, they’ll hunt you down.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” she muttered, noting the occasional alcoves that boasted widows featuring a nighttime view of a metropolis. It was amazingly believable, but it was still daylight up above. “Is that real?”
“No. Most Infernals go nuts if they feel confined in any way. They prefer night to day, so that’s what Raguel went with.” Alec paused before a new door labeled Orange County Power and Water Management. Eve frowned, knowing that there was no such entity. He knocked and they waited. “The illusion of being topside keeps them functioning properly.”
The door swung open, revealing a young, lanky man standing behind a desk situated directly before the door. He wore gray overalls with his last name—Wilson—embroidered on the breast and military-grade “birth control” glasses; nicknamed for their ability to make anyone look like shit. Beyond him, a partition blocked the view of the rest of the interior. Filing cabinets flanked his left and a large potted palm tree flanked his right. The air escaping the room smelled like cotton candy, which told Eve the man was a Mark and not an Infernal.
“Cain,” Wilson said, smiling. “What can I do for you?”
Eve snorted softly. Alec entered a room and everyone started kowtowing. With every day that passed, the image she’d long held of an evil, reviled Cain wore away.
She was bringing up the rear when a group of three Marks rounded the corner—two females and one male. The girls were sporting an odd sort of look consisting of jungle boots, black parachute pants, and strategically ripped tanks in bright colors. The man wore jeans and a baby blue polo shirt. In unison, their gazes raked her from head to toe.
“She’s not all that,” one gal said to the other with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Cain gets all the pussy,” the male said. “I hear Asian chicks are hot in bed.”
“Excuse me?” Eve said.
“There’s no excuse for sleeping your way to the top,” hissed the second girl as they passed.
Eve turned to watch them go, feeling an odd mixture of anger and nausea. “There’s no excuse for those clothes you’re wearing either,” she called after them. “News flash: the eighties ended a couple decades ago.”
“Angel?” Alec’s voice drew her gaze. He held a clipboard in his hands. “What are you doing?”
