If I Fall...: Will You Remember Me? (Angelore Saga Book 3) Page 6
Quabin gritted her teeth. Soon, she reminded herself. Very soon it would change.
Stepping from the heavily carved wooden box she was immediately flanked by two of her most trusted companions. Satrin, a tall, slender woman, whose youthful appearance belied her two hundred years as demoness. Her long white hair swirled about her in the biting breeze that surged through the canyons. She was clad in black leathers from her booted feet to the high collar of her long sleeved blouse. Her skin was very white, offset by the dark of her bottomless black eyes, which reflected no light. Quabin well remembered the night Satrin had trespassed into her territory, seeking to dethrone her shortly before Quabin had been captured. It was a battle Qaubin had thoroughly enjoyed, for never had she gone against someone who was so close to her experience before. Satrin was beaten, but Quabin offered her a position with her legion as second in command.
Quabin trusted her most of her two attendants, though, trust was a rare commodity in the dark legions. Fear is what guaranteed loyalty and Quabin made sure Satrin knew and feared her power. Quabin slid a glance at the taller woman, noted the glint of gold beneath the black lace around Satrin’s throat. Satrin stood tall, staring straight ahead. She hardly spoke, and when she did, it was to agree with Quabin. Quabin glanced at her other companion.
Kema glanced up at Quabin. The petite red haired woman had elven like features with large blue eyes and a small rosebud mouth. From a distance, she appeared to be a young woman around 20 years of age, but, she moved with a deadly grace that hinted at much experience in the art of stealth and martial arts. Her form was pleasing to mortal eyes, and she had used her beauty and charms to her advantage to keep her cravings satiated, if only for a brief time. Quabin disliked her immensely, but the woman had proven herself very useful in the past. She had come to Quabin’s service like a black winged crow seeking scraps from the ruins of a battle. Skittish, determined, pecking, and grabbing her share of the spoils, until Quabin trapped her and made her conform to her dictates. Kema resisted violently, but Quabin had easily subdued the younger woman, slapped the golden circlet about her throat and kept the impish woman on a tight leash, otherwise, Quabin knew the younger woman had potential to grow quite powerful if she put her mind to it instead of hiding on the fringes and sneaking scraps.
This was how most of her legion came to her. Promise of spoils of war with the mortals. A war that mortals seemed oblivious to, until it was too late. Quabin relished the thought of going out again and feasting on the essence of the mortals, of absorbing the energies they emitted when influenced by things that went contrary to the light that they had come from. The more darkness mortals invited into their lives, the more they gave up their will and choices and the more power they gave to the Shadow People who lived off it and the stronger her Shadows became, and the stronger and more powerful the shadows became, the stronger and more powerful Quabin became. And eventually, she would be god of this world. It would just take time and she had all the time in the world to turn one mortal soul at a time to her use.
“At dawn,” Quabin said suddenly to Kema, “Give the signal to move the Legion into the box before sunrise.” Quabin motioned towards the entrance of the coffin sized box that stood on end. It’s capacity was limitless in the void that had held her and her minions for nearly a century. “We must keep our activity quiet and the mortals unaware.”
Kema lowered her head in deference, “Yes, Mistress.”
Quabin looked at Satrin, “Send two pairs of your most reliable scouts to shadow the one called Julia Halstead, and the other to Nathan Parker. Report their activity.”
Satrin lowered her head as well and in a husky voice, replied, “Yes, Mistress.” She turned and departed swiftly; not a sound did she make. Kema remained, but with a flick of her hand, summoned two Slicks to take Satrin’s place. Slicks, long faced and pale members of the Shadow Kind, were once human, but who chose to remain after death had ended their mortality, not able to depart the hold that the Earthly realm had with its riches of sensory delights. Slicks had the power to slip in and out of mortals when they were at their darkest phases and assisted the demon’s to feed on the energies while Slicks enjoyed the earthly pleasures humans indulged in during their dark phases.
Quabin looked out over her legion of swarming Shadows and wished she had the technology the Host had; the flat golden tablets which saw everything. She was forced to use what she had, minor demons, imps, freelance Nephilims and Slicks that were difficult to control and most times unreliable unless severely threatened or compensated to some degree or another. That was one thing the Host had that she didn’t, a united force with a single mind and eye for the greater good. None of that was to be had amongst her kind – the lot of them were only there because of promise of spoil and could hardly be expected to work in unison unless it benefitted them to do so, like a golden circlet about their throats – but that only worked on fleshed shadows, not the wisps of darkness that congregated around her, thoughts that were born from the wicked imaginations of humans. Besides, coming across golden circlets were hard to come by. She spent the better part of the last century before her capture, robbing the humans of gold for this purpose of controlling her legion she intended to employee in her bid for power of this world. Her lust for gold had made her weak and vulnerable – that and the likes of Butch Cassidy had completely taken her off guard. She shook herself, she would not allow herself to dwell on him and the deep betrayal he had caused her. He would pay once she was god.
In the blackness of the night, the legion below swarmed, moving about, coming and going. It would not be long before they grew restless with impatience for the command to move upon the Humans. Until then, they would be hidden from the eyes of the Host in the very prison they had used to hold her. She grinned with the irony.
Stretching her consciousness outward she felt and touched random members of the group below, familiarizing herself with each one and where they had come from. Each member wore their origins like a badge of energy – a signature that Quabin recognized from the reports Satrin and Kema had given her about the current conditions of the Mortal world during her imprisonment. It was nothing to Quabin to recognize where her legion of followers were coming from.
A light touch only, so they could not sense her, like an errant breeze, revealed the source of her growing legion. The first one she crushed past was a demon from the heart of the place the Humans called Las Vegas. Quabin sensed he had much experience in luring mortal’s to alcohol the nectar of Slicks. Slicks flock to those whose bodies are saturated with the substance since it’s so easily accessible nowadays. He would be useful in empowering her imps and minor demons to infiltrate the minds and hearts of the surrounding population.
Her touch wandered before she lighted upon a young female Deluder who flirted with the Fallens that mingled nearby. This one would be useful in the art of seducing mortals into destructive relationships with each other. If there was one thing Quabin was pleased to see, was an abundance of Deluder’s at work in the media of the Mortals world and how easily accessible it was. Her work was cut out for her. All she had to do was turn up the heat just a little bit with a few well-placed Deluders with the right people.
Further away she felt the presence of a group of Aerial Powers. She grinned. She knew they would not be able to resist her call. Of all the Dark Ones, Aerials were the most suppressed by the Host and relished any chance to whip up some chaos in the heavens to frighten and confuse Mortals and wreak havoc with the Host. Quabin chuckled.
Aside from the Aerials, there were Furies, Revengers, Vessels of Wrath, Accusers, Tempters, and Ensnarers – all she lacked was the Spirits of Lies which were hard to find and lure to her cause. Most Spirits of Lies were employed by greater Fallens than she, but she would find and lure one to do her bidding once she had Torrey subdued and then all the rest of the area – steadily moving outward.
Quabin was pleased with who had answered the call and more were arriving by the hour. She reached out an
d around them to absorb their essence, feeding and growing stronger from the dark power they had brought with them already. She fed on them, and though it would weaken them, she would send them out soon enough to feed and replenish themselves.
It was while she was feeding, that something on her periphery alerted her to an unknown presence. At first it felt like a threat, like perhaps a nearby Watcher had taken an interest in their activity and intended to harass them, but the more she tested the energies surrounding this newcomer, the more she realized the power of the one coming. Strong, it was. Almost as strong as her own, but definitely unlike a demon, Slick or imp.
“Not one of mine,” Quabin murmured. Kema glanced at her with a questioning look.
“Kema,” she alerted her Third and nodded in the direction she felt the disturbance. Kema looked toward the direction, eyes narrowing.
“Someone comes,” Quabin said. “Provide escort. Be careful, this one is very powerful. Be swift.”
Kema gave a short nod and sped off into the air, drawing with her a dozen or so Slicks to accompany her on her mission.
Quabin watched and waited. Who could possibly have that much power and come alone to her territory? Satrin had dared years ago, but she had been a young, arrogant and ambitious Newling. Satrin didn’t have half the power this newcomer was displaying like a proud beacon taunting Quabin. There was only one explanation. The intruder was a Master Demon. But he came alone.
Quabin considered summoning her guards, but then dismissed the idea. She didn’t sense he was a threat, like Satrin had been all those years ago. No, he was perhaps curious. Had perhaps noticed an influx of activity as he was passing through? She wanted him to understand that she was not fearful of him and would meet him without protection as she could handle him herself if need be, quite easily.
It was several minutes before he would arrive, so she had had ample time to probe and learn everything she could about him before she actually saw him. He was broadcasting his presence on purpose, she realized, not that he was threatening her, just broadcasting that he was coming.
The sunlight was a but a thin reddish streak in the western sky, but by the time he dropped on the ledge before her, his arms spread wide as he ducked into a low bow, the last of the light vanished. He was still bowing by the time Kema and her Slicks dropped in a defensive half circle between him and Quabin.
Quabin smirked. Young, she thought.
“Speak your business here,” Kema commanded.
The stranger returned a friendly smile and placed a hand on his breast, “I am Drogo, my Queen.” he said to Quabin, completely ignoring Kema. “I’ve come to make your acquaintance and offer my allegiance.”
“Who are you, Drogo, that you think I would need your allegiance?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and taking in his relaxed posture, his glittering eyes, the way he looked over her as she looked over him. She couldn’t help but allow a small grin to turn the corner of her full lips up.
Drogo lifted his chin slightly and spread his hands out before him, palms up. “I am Drogo of Los Angeles, beautiful lady. I have been Lord of one hundred and thirty years, since I overthrew the previous Lord and banished him to the isles of the Pacific Ocean. I have heard of your release and came as soon as I could to introduce myself and welcome your return to the world of Mortals.”
Quabin considered his words a moment crossing her arms before her. “I’ve been detained for a little over a hundred years, Drogo. Last I heard, Los Angeles had barely a 100,000 souls within its borders.” She raised her brows. “Not very difficult to usurp a Lord with so few souls. What kind of allegiance can you possibly offer me?”
Shifting his stance, Drogo glanced warily at Kema. The petite blond glanced at Quabin, she wanted nothing more than to tear this interloper to shreds, especially because he was a man. Surely Drogo had noticed that the dozen or so Demons surrounding him were all female.
Drogo swallowed and tucked his hands behind him and in a low voice, said, “It is true that Lord Sapo was easily dispatched. But with his dominion over Los Angeles ended, I was able to increase the number of souls there and attract a large amount of Shadow Folk to swear allegiance to me.”
“How many souls?” Quabin asked, unimpressed.
“Three million,” Drogo stated flatly.
Kema flinched and glanced from Drogo to Quabin and back again. The van guard shifted uneasily. The cold wind that swept in, pulling at Quabin’s cloak, billowing it about her shoulders was the only thing that made a sound in those few seconds after Drogo’s statement.
Quabin turned on her heel and strode away, her hand signaling for Drogo to follow. He glanced at Kema who leveled a dark look at him. Drogo returned it with a devilish grin and wink.
***
Drogo glanced at the dark looks surrounding him. Each of the guards were very beautiful, very deadly and Drogo pitied the mortals that would come in contact with these of Quabin’s forces as she grew stronger. And her numbers were swelling fast.
Chapter 10
Matthew’s final words echoed in the hallway, “I know where Quariel is!” Nathan shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the sound of his brother’s voice from ringing in his ears. Once outside the walls of the Prison, Nathan launched himself into the darkening sky, fueled by the grief and hurt that was building inside him, he just wanted to get away as fast and as far as he could from Matthew.
Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and flew faster until the atmosphere heated up around him. He knew that humans below would think they were seeing a meteorite. If he pushed it harder, he knew he could create a spectacular display for them below. Instead, he wheeled away, slowing his speed and headed for the lights in the distance. He didn’t want to think about Matthew anymore. What he wanted was still in Torrey and she was waiting and unfortunately he could do nothing about it without breaking his own vows ad that would only further delay his sentence.
He headed towards Torrey, thinking of her smile, her bright eyes, her laugh, her touch. No matter how he probed, Julia couldn’t remember anything more than kneeling at his side and administering to his pain before he died.
Lost in his thoughts, Nathan found himself drifting to the Parker ranch. Not because therein lie the family that had adopted him, took him in and cared for him as he worked alongside the Nephilim Local Deputy, Roy Parker in keeping law and order amongst the mortals as well as the immortals. It was also where Matt’s truck was stored in the back of the barn, after Matt nearly escaped with Julia as hostage.
Nathan went to the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. He put his hand on the door, hesitating. What if this was a trap? Matthew could be lying. Nathan stepped away – Matt was lying. Julia was Quariel. There is no other way that Julia could possibly know about the incident that took his life. He turned away and started for the exit. Doubt sparked in his heart as he heard Matthew’s words echo in his mind. What would he have in his truck that would prove Julia was not Quariel? Nathan paused. Then back to the truck he went, angry. He threw open the door and pulled the seat back to see what evidence Matt had stowed away.
A small white envelope was tucked behind the seat’s cover straps. An address scrawled across it. Inside, Nathan found a pair of wedding rings. A man and a woman’s rings. As soon as his fingers brushed against them, he felt Quariel’s energy for the first time since they were separated. He had forgotten what her energy had felt like, how soothing and calming it was, how it enveloped him completely. The deep longing for her overcame him.
But just as soon as those thoughts entered his mind, he was struck with guilt. His vows he had taken as Watcher forbade the thing he longed for. He knew this. He knew it then and had accepted the vows until such a time as he fulfilled his commitment as Watcher. It could be centuries before he could move to the next level, further separating him from Julia, who up until now he had believed was Quariel. If she wasn’t Quariel he didn’t know what he would do. He loved Julia, but that love was based on the thought that she was Quariel
. He looked at the envelope in his hands. Should he search for Quariel? The address was scrawled in a woman’s hand, was it hers?
Nathan slipped the envelope into his back pocket and walked out of the barn. He could hear the noise of the Parker children playing in the backyard of the ranch house. The children who called him Uncle and adored him as he spent much time playing and roughhousing with them. But in his current state of confusion, anger, and anxiety, he didn’t dare let them see him. He sped away. Instinctively, he went to the Bed & Breakfast, remaining cloaked in light so that Julia couldn’t see him. He just needed to see her, feel her presence, her energy, her warmth. Maybe he was seeking reassurance that she was Quariel.
He got as far as the front door, then stopped. The invisible sentries at the door looked at him quizzically. This was a sanctuary of peace, they kept darkness out, and a darkness had entered his heart. Nathan couldn’t bear to see Julia with so much doubt clouding his thoughts. The only way he could confirm that Julia was not Quariel was to find Quariel first.
***
In his black fiat parked just down the road from the Bed and Breakfast, Drogo grinned as Nathan bolted away from the building. Drogo glanced over at his passenger, the sleek Kema, who granted him a bare acknowledgment with a raised brow. “The hunt is on,” she purred.
Drogo laughed.