Of course, their association wasn’t happenstance. Alec swore nothing was a coincidence and everything followed a divine plan. If that was true, the loss of her virginity to Cain and her subsequent marking had both simply been a matter of time. Therefore, working for Gadara had also been inevitable.
To her, the whole thing was wack.
Richens appeared from the kitchen. He skirted Gadara and set a plate of store-bought garlic bread on the table. “I’m starved. Let’s eat.”
“Who will say grace?” Gadara looked at Eve.
Her brow arched.
“I will.” Claire stood, towering over the table.
The Frenchwoman’s brown hair was super short and looked as if she had cut it herself. Her skin was porcelain perfect, her lashes thick and dark behind cute black-framed glasses that were worn for aesthetic reasons only—the mark cured myopia and every other imperfection. She was so beautiful it was hard not to stare, yet she didn’t pay much mind to her looks. She wore no makeup or hair products. However, she did have a weakness for clothes. For this short trip, she had brought a duffel almost as big as she was.
The moment the short prayer was finished, the group settled elbow-to-elbow at the makeshift table and began passing the food around. It wasn’t gourmet cuisine, but it was still pretty good. For a while, everyone was too busy shoveling food to talk—sating the need to refuel often and in large quantities—then excited discussion about the week’s upcoming events kicked into high gear.
Eve ate mechanically, feeling disconnected from the boisterous atmosphere by a fuzzy sensation she called a “brain cloud.” She felt as if she was coming down with a nasty cold. She was exhausted and suspected she was running a mild fever. Since the mark prevented illness, she was more than a little concerned. As soon as she had a moment alone, she planned to call Alec about it. She didn’t feel like discussing any weakness in front of the others.
“So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Ken asked, always ready to leap in headfirst.
“My training plans are a closely guarded secret, Mr. Callaghan,” Gadara said, smiling. “Besides, in actual field conditions you will have to think on your feet.”
“What should we do to prepare?” Eve asked.
“Dress in layers. It is chilly in the morning here and depending on how well you progress tomorrow, we may be out until evening.”
“That is when the ghosts come out and play,” Izzie said in a deliberately affected low and dramatic tone, followed by a bwa-ha-ha bark of laughter that sounded even funnier with a German accent. “Maybe they will visit us tonight.”
“Don’t make jokes,” Claire muttered. “Real Infernals are bad enough.”
“Who says I’m joking? I watched a television show on this place just last week. One of those ghost hunter series.”
Richens nodded. “We have similar programs in the U.K.”
“What are you talking about?” Claire asked.
“There are people,” Edwards explained, “who go to allegedly haunted locations and try to find proof of supernatural activity. They record their activities for television.”
“Vraiment?” Claire’s brows rose. “With what type of equipment do they search?”
Ken laughed. “A camcorder and a torch. Mostly all you see is screaming in the dark.”
“Yes,” Izzie agreed. “That is what I saw. It was strange that they waited until the middle of the night to ‘investigate.’ They deliberately turned the lights off, too. What is the reasoning behind doing that? If there are Infernals in the place, they don’t give a shit if the lights are on or not.”
“Torches?” Eve asked.
“Flashlights,” Gadara explained.
Claire frowned. “What is the purpose?”
“Entertainment,” Richens muttered.
“For whom? The persons screaming in the dark? Or the television viewers?”
“I don’t get it either,” Eve said, figuring she could contribute at least that much to the discussion.
Everyone looked at her, then resumed speaking.
“So are there truly Infernals in this place?” Claire asked. “Or just overactive imaginations?”
“There are Infernals everywhere,” Gadara reminded. “But what fuels these shows are rumor and conjecture. However, if there are Infernals nearby when the shows are filming, they sometimes play along for their own amusement.”
Eve pushed back from the table and stood, taking her plate with her. “I need to make a call before it gets too late.”
“To Cain?” Laurel’s smile was brittle.
“Who I call is none of your business.”
“You are fortunate to have someone to answer you,” Romeo murmured, rubbing his fingertips up and down Laurel’s spine.
Eve knew her situation was rare. She couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or not. Did her lingering connection to her family mean she didn’t have many indulgences to earn to gain her freedom? Or was her connection to Cain so valuable that her family ties were worth overlooking?
Setting her plate on the counter by the sink, Eve exited out the kitchen door and sat on the cement stoop. Above her, the sky was a gorgeous midnight blue. An inordinate number of stars twinkled between rapidly moving clouds. In her hometown, pollution created a charcoal gray night that hid much of the universe’s celestial beauty, but Eve would gladly trade being there for here.
She punched in Alec’s number. As the phone rang, Eve brushed her hair back from her damp forehead. She became dizzy if she moved too quickly, and her breathing was coming fast and shallow. The mark only allowed such reactions when arousal or a hunt was involved. Stress and illness weren’t factors.
So what the fuck is wrong with me?
Her physical acclimation to the mark had been screwy from the get-go, fading in and out like someone twisting the volume knob on a radio.
“You’ve reached Alec Cain. Leave a message or call Meggido Industries at 800-555-7777.”
The sound of Alec’s voice made Eve’s throat tight. “Come back in one piece,” she told his voicemail. “And call me when you can.”
Feeling in need of some fussing, she speed-dialed her parents and waited impatiently for one of them to pick up. They would check the caller ID first, since they never answered calls from numbers they didn’t recognize—
“Hey, darlin’.”
Eve smiled at the sound of her father’s familiar drawl. “Hey, Dad. What are you doing?”
“Watching television and telling myself to go to bed. How about you?”
“I’m up in Monterey.”
“Oh, that’s right.” The smile was evident in his voice. “Your mother told me you had some work up there.”
“Yes. Work.”
“Well, take some time to see the aquarium.”
“I’ll try.”
There was silence for the space of a few heartbeats, but Eve was used to it. Her father was the master of silence—companionable, awkward, and disapproving. She could handle screaming shrews and bellowing assholes, but Darrel Hollis’s wordless disapproval could make her feel smaller than an ant.
Usually she’d try to fill the void with inanities, but tonight she was just glad to have an open line to someone who loved her.
Her father cleared his throat. “Your mom isn’t here right now. She went to her tanka group.”
“That’s okay. I’m fine with just talking to you.”
“Is something on your mind? Are you having trouble with Alec?”
“No. We’re good.”
“You both should come over for dinner when you get back into town.”
“Sure. We’d like that.”
Another stretch of silence, then, “Are you having work trouble?”
Not that she could share. “Nothing’s wrong, Dad. I just called to say hi. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Looking forward to having dinner with you.” He yawned. “I’m going to call it a night, honey. Don’t work too hard.”
Eve sighed, wishing they were capable of doing more than making small talk. “Say hi to Mom for me.”
“Of course. And find a way to the see the aquarium. You can’t go to Monterey without seeing the aquarium.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Night, Evie.”
She snapped the phone shut just as the kitchen door opened behind her. As she pushed to her feet, a hand settled on her shoulder and urged her to stay down.
Eve looked up. “What’s up, Richens?”
“Stick around,” he said, joining her on the small step. “I could use the company; this place gives me the screamin’ abdabs.”
“Is that like the creeps?”
“Yeah.”
It was the first real overture any of the Marks had made to her, so she stayed.
She slid over a little to give him more room. “Me, too.”
“Is that why you called home?”
“Kinda.” She was keeping her health to herself.
“Your old man isn’t very chatty, eh.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you that eavesdropping is rude?”
“No. So what’s your sin?”
Glancing at him with arched brow, Eve was struck again by his youth. He’d been a pudgy teenager when she met him just three weeks ago. He would retain that youthful appearance until he lost the mark, but the baby fat was gone. The mark made the body too efficient to carry around extra weight. His acne had cleared up, too, and the scars from them. What remained from the transformation was a young man of average height and build with somber features and wily gray eyes.
“Is that like ‘what’s your sign?’ ” she queried.
Richens shook his head. “I wouldn’t piss off Cain by hitting on his girl. Besides, you’re a bit long in the tooth for me.”
“Ouch.”
He shrugged. “So, what did you do to end up here?”
