The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (11 page)

She hoped to make the demoness angry so she’d lose some of her control on Jackson. Even as Mari shifted around the pair, her maneuvering placed Jackson closer to the human female. If she could distract Jahi enough so she’d release him, he’d be able to snatch the human from the Vonki demons holding the mortal.

Jahi’s eyes narrowed and she dropped her hands from Jackson, shifting slightly away from him. “Our plan will not fail, Marisol. And you should consider what will happen when Beliel rules Earth if you are not on his side.”

Move away a little bit more, you bitch.

“Careful, cousin,” Mari drawled. Her fingers tightened on the hilt. “Too much frowning and you’ll make lines in your face. Then what use will you be to Beliel? You know he’s partial to the young, pretty ones.”

Jahi hissed and took another step away from Jackson. Mari cast him a quick glance. Saw the passion-filled fog in his eyes begin to clear, turning the green clear instead of muddy.

“Beliel will never put me aside. Not as long as I continue to give him what he wants, and he wants the skull.” As Mari was about to shout to Jackson, Jahi must have guessed her intentions because she turned to the Vonki. “Now you’ll never find out where it is.”

Suspecting the bitch’s goal, Mari shoved the spell-stricken Jackson, sending him stumbling backwards. She leaped at Jahi, swinging the sword at the demon’s head. Jahi laughed, whipping her hand up in a warding gesture, and the strike bounced harmlessly off the shield.

“Donde tu et amera pitak,”
she said. As the words left her mouth, one of the Vonki lifted a long-clawed hand and swiped at the human woman’s chest. Blood swelled from the three slashes, coating the woman’s chest like a waterfall. She slumped to the ground. Not dead. Not yet. Mari could still hear the beat of the woman’s heart.

The other demon leaped over the woman, his claws reaching for Mari. With the edge of her sword, she cut one arm off at the joint. He roared, the sound shaking the house like a passing train.

Jahi shouted something else. Both demons, after sending baleful glares Mari’s way, disappeared. “Don’t worry, Marisol. I will make sure Beliel has a special place for you in his new world.” She spat the words as if they were bullets, then fell into the shadows and was gone.

For a moment, Mari thought about following them—she could track them through the dimensions as long as she moved quickly. She stopped when she heard the mortal woman’s death rattle as she tried to talk. Fires of Hell, Mari had to see what she could learn from the human before she passed.

She pivoted and strode to the woman, Lisa. Free from his bewitchment, Jackson was there, on his knees beside her, cradling her head in his lap. One of his hands pressed on the wounds. When she neared, she saw the lower scratch had cut deep into Lisa’s stomach. Glistening, pale strands of internal organs were visible through the gash. Under the metallic scent of blood, the sour smell of bile and intestines mixed with the fresh aroma of day lilies and roses strewn about the floor. Death covered with perfume.

Jackson lifted his head. In his haunted gaze, a bunch of emotions swirled—anger, guilt and pity mixed with lingering lust—darkening the green eyes to black. While Mari didn’t empathize with his emotions, she understood the first two. However, he’d have to wait to deal with all of them later. Right now, she needed to see what she could get from the woman before she died.

Inwardly cringing at the idea of ruining her Roberto Cavalli studded jeans, Mari knelt at Lisa’s other side. As she rested on her knees, Mari caught a whisper of movement from the corner of her eye and saw translucent forms begin to converge on the mortal. Death’s spirits, coming to remove the human’s soul and send it to Heaven or Hell.

“Can you do anything?”

Mari frowned at Jackson’s question. “I have no power over life or death.” What had prompted him to ask such a thing? They’d seen death before. Why did he seek to intervene now? For this Lisa?

Even if Mari could, nothing would save the woman. Not the human medical workers, likely called by concerned neighbors—she heard them fast approaching in their screaming vehicles. The spirits were harbingers of death—not a second chance.

Mari bent close to the dying human female. “Lisa, listen to me. I need to know where the skull is and what you told the other woman.”

Lisa whimpered and turned her face away.

Mari grabbed Lisa’s shoulders and shook her. “You will tell me.”

“Shit, Mari,” Jackson growled as he knocked her hands away from Lisa. “She’s dying. Take it easy,” he muttered. “Let me try.”

Mari pulled her lips between her teeth and stood. As much as she hated to admit it, he should try. The female was dying and their only hope of getting the information she’d provided to Jahi was to be compassionate.

Problem. Mari didn’t know how to be compassionate.

The irritation in his gaze fell away as if he understood her struggle. Focusing once more on Lisa, he smoothed the hair from her face and smiled down at her. A tender smile, honest and warm. It took Mari’s breath away.

“Listen, darlin’.” His voice poured over Mari like warm honey. Suddenly, she wanted him to talk to her with such a tone. “I wish there were something we can do for you. The ambulance is on their way but they won’t make it in time. You understand?”

Lisa turned her head and stared at Jackson. After a few seconds, she nodded. Resignation smoothed out the pain lines on her face. “I don’t want to die.”

Even as she said the words, Mari could tell it was a simple statement of fact—not a wish to be saved. Her heart skipped a beat, something within her chest suddenly aching. She’d seen many humans face their mortality, fight against death with a desperation she recognized but didn’t understand. This woman’s calm acceptance moved her like none of the others’ fear had.

“I know, honey. It’s a good place, though. Heaven. You’ll be happy there.”

Lisa nodded again. “You are looking for the skull too, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Do you know where it is?”

“I don’t…have it. I sold it five years ago to someone in…Iraq.” She lifted her chin, defiance in every thrust. “I needed the money.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Who was it?”

“The guy…who died.” She paused, struggling to find her breath. Pain deepened the lines on her forehead and whitened the corners of her lips. “I don’t remember his name. Someone else must…have it now.”

Lisa started coughing. Blood came from her mouth and trickled down the side. A shaking hand reached up and grabbed Jackson’s shirt at his throat. “That…thing…is evil. It wants to have someone as evil as it is control it. It gave me horrible nightmares. Promise me you’ll destroy it.”

Jackson looked up at Mari. She bent her head. That wasn’t the plan, but they would make sure no one would ever get it again.

“Sure, darlin’,” he said. “We’ll take care of it.”

Lisa breathed a long sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered and let go of his shirt. As if the effort to speak took the rest of her strength, and life, from her, her head fell backward. Her breath exhaled heavily, and she died.

Mari caught the jerk of Jackson’s jaw. He gently closed Lisa’s eyes, then lowered her to the floor. Bowing his head for a moment, he whispered a prayer for the woman’s soul. Mari had not realized he was the practicing-religion sort. Not with the kind of life he had lived before coming to their group.

Death’s spirits swarmed in, the shadowy forms embracing the woman’s soul as it lifted from the lifeless shell. She looked around, her expression sad. When her gaze landed on Mari, she stiffened and her eyes widened. Ignoring the spirits around her, she floated toward Mari. She had no fear the new spirit could harm her. However, she was surprised Lisa would now approach her.

“There is something wrong.”

Mari’s brows lifted. “Of course there is. You’re dead.”

Concern wrinkled Lisa’s forehead. Her eyes narrowed. “No, something is wrong with your soul. A piece is missing. Right here,” she said and touched Mari’s chest, right about where her heart would be if she had one.

She hissed and moved backward, away from the cold touch. Considering she’d only found out recently she had a soul, the fact some of it was missing should not be shocking or a concern. After taking a deep breath, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. You must be so lost without it.”

“Mari, who the hell are you talking to?” From his position at the side of the mortal shell, Jackson interrupted their conversation, his tone sharp and impatient.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “The woman’s spirit.”

“Right.”

Before turning back to the spirit, Mari frowned at him. By this time, the death spirits had surrounded Lisa and locked her within their embrace. Even as she watched, Lisa’s soul began to fade.

“Wait! Tell me more. What do you mean my soul has a missing piece?”

The soul’s lips moved. Mari heard nothing except a soft crackling sound, like that of fall leaves underfoot, then Lisa and the death spirits disappeared.

“Damn it,” Mari muttered.

Jackson got to his feet. “What’s going on?”

She pulled her lips between her teeth. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” On the other hand,
she
was extremely concerned. Her newfound soul was incomplete?

He snatched his sword from the floor and stuck it into its resting place on his hip. “Well, now, I disagree. If it has anything to do with the mission, then I’d say it has everything to do with me.”

“It doesn’t,” she snapped, then blew out an exasperated breath. “It’s a personal matter,” she said, modifying her tone.

He stared at her for a minute. She refused to drop her gaze under his intense look. “Fine. It’s your rodeo,” he said and shrugged. “Looks like we’re going to Iraq. That might pose a bit of a problem with a war going on there.”

“Can you get us inside without notice?”

“Yeah. Have to call in some favors. I’ll get us there.”

She nodded, then watched as he strode over to the dining room table, grabbed the edge of the tablecloth and yanked it off. Dishes crashed to the floor, the sound of splintering glass and ceramic peppering the air. Coming back to the dead woman, he bent and draped the tablecloth over the shell’s face like a shroud. An expensive shroud, judging by the quality of the linen.

Mari studied him. Something about Lisa, her death, had disturbed him. More than another human being dying. Something that seemed to touch him personally. Would he tell Mari if she asked? Likely not. They weren’t in the habit of sharing personal information.

The shriek of sirens split the morning air. She looked at him. “We cannot be found by your police. We have to apport.” They didn’t have time to get to their vehicle and to Iraq. She’d have to disobey Michael.

He nodded and looked down at Lisa one more time. His lips twisted. “Let’s go.”

She crossed to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

“I have to touch you.”

“I got it.”

Even though he remained still under her touch, his posture was stiff. Unyielding. This was a side to the charming cowboy she was unfamiliar with. He was angry, yes, but not the same kind of anger she’d expect. This was anger fueled by loss. But he hadn’t known Lisa. Why would her death affect him so much?

Voices came from behind the front door, followed by pounding. The human authorities had arrived. Definitely time to go.

Chapter Eight

“Mother, please calm down.” Catherine could see the rage building in her mother’s emerald eyes, turning the brilliant green to black. An explosion waiting to happen. Even Catherine wouldn’t escape the backlash.

Lillian DeMartinez paced in front of the large fireplace, the silk of her evening gown making a soft, whispering sound against the thick-pile carpet. On her fingers, jewels winked red, blue and green as she wrung her hands. The only outward signs of her annoyance.

“Where the hell is he?” Her fine, cultured tone held the sharp edge of a knife.

When the front doorbell rang, Catherine prayed it was the man her mother was waiting for. An unhurried, confident gait followed the quick steps of Angella Morales, their housekeeper.

Lillian whirled around, her face taut with anticipation. The same anticipation that sang a siren song through Catherine’s veins. Her mother had spoken at length of the man she’d added recently to her conquests. And of his bodyguard—the man she really wanted but had done something no other man had ever done.

Turned her mother down.

For that, Lillian desired and hated him in equal amounts. Many evenings lately, Catherine had heard her mother muttering in her chambers about this man and what it would take to make him hers. But even her mother would not be stupid enough to have an affair while she was seeing the boss, given how dangerous she’d said he was.

Catherine wanted to meet the man who hadn’t succumbed to her mother’s potent sexuality. The same sexuality she herself possessed, but didn’t want. After watching her mother manipulate first her father, then the endless parade of men walking through the front door, Catherine would much rather find her own way without using sex.

A hesitant knock at the door pulled Catherine’s gaze to the entrance of the room.