Fact was, the majority of the United States population believed in a higher power.
He steepled his fingertips. “The Army gave me a way out of South Central. God gave me a way out of the Mexican Mafia. Okay, so I’ve told you mine. Now, you tell me yours.”
“It’s a long story, and one you wouldn’t believe anyway.” She reached up and tightened her loosened ponytail.
“Try me.” He bumped shoulders with her. “The Lord keeps bringing you back my way. There’s a reason for that.”
“Father. . . Trust me. If the Lord is deliberately pushing me into your life, that’s not a good thing. Not for either one of us.”
“We won’t know until all is said and done, oh ye of little faith.”
“You don’t understand me, Father. And I sure as hell don’t understand you. Don’t you read that Bible you preach from? God isn’t perfect. He’s just like everyone else. Have you read the Book of Job? First, God brags to Satan about how loyal Job is. Then, when Satan bets him that Job will turn against him if they make him miserable enough, God takes the bet.”
Riesgo’s gaze was on Montevista as the Mark abandoned his position on the lower right infield to head toward Sydney. “Do you have any idea how many times the Book of Job is tossed out as an argument, Ms. Hollis?”
“Eve,” she corrected.
“I expect you to be more original, Eve.”
She smiled without humor. “Have you ever considered that Job’s story might be a piece of a larger whole? Maybe Job is a construct that represents the entirety of man. Maybe his tale is a parable and not absolute truth. Maybe Satan and God are still trying to win that bet.”
The priest turned his head to look at her. “You’re attributing mortal qualities to God, like the Greeks did with their gods. The One True God is above those frailties.”
“Really? I don’t get that from the Bible,” she muttëred. “What I get out of the Bible is a God so high on himself that he has minions running the show while he lounges around listening to cherubs sing his praises endlessly.”
“I can put up with a lot, Eve.” There was an edge to Riesgo’s voice. “But disrespect and blasphemy aren’t on the list.”
She blew out her breath in a rush, suddenly feeling very weary. “I’m sorry, Father. I don’t mean to belittle your beliefs. It’s just that I’m never going to see God the way you do. It’s like we’re looking at different sides of the same coin. Please don’t ask me to come around to your side.”
“That’s my job,” he said gruffly, looking obliquely at her. “I bring God into the lives of others.”
“God is in my life, Father.” Eve looked him at him squarely, willing him to see the truth of her words in her gaze. “We’re working out our issues in our own way. But, in the meantime, that dude on my corner is seriously driving me insane.”
“What do you suggest I do about that?”
“You can come and vouch for me.”
“Vouch for you,” Riesgo’s half-smile returned. “For all I know, he could be right about you.”
“Ouch.” Crossing her arms, she straightened.
“Okay, how about I take you to my office first? Have you been to Gadara Tower? It was voted Anaheim’s most beautiful property a couple of years ago.”
He reached over and patted her on the knee. It was a grandfatherly gesture, but his touch was so hot it surprised her. The contact was brief, over as soon as it began, but the heat lingered. “Give me directions to your place. I’ll run by there in the next couple of days and talk to him.”
“Thank you,” She returned his earlier bump to the shoulder before standing. “I owe you one.”
“Yes, you do.” He rose in an economical, yet graceful movement. Power leashed with an iron fist. “We’re having a potluck picnic at the church in three weeks. I expect you to come. Bring your boyfriend and those two—” He looked toward the field and frowned. “Where did they go?”
Eve’s gaze followed his. Montevista and Sydney were nowhere to be seen. She engaged her mark- enhanced vision, but delving into the darkness beyond the reach of the powerful field lights was impossible without the nictitating lenses that engaged only when she, too, stood in the dark. “I don’t know.”
She started down the bleacher steps with growing apprehension. The moment her foot hit the dirt, a flash of white caught the periphery of her vision. Too fast to be mortal. Lightning-quick, Eve darted after it. It was faster than she was, feinting to the left and right. Several seconds later, she found herself on the pitcher’s mound again. She ran back to Riesgo. The priest was presently rubbing at his eyes with his fists.
“I must be wiped out’ he said. “My vision’s getting blurry. One second, it looked like you were over there. Then the next, you were right here.”
Catching his elbow, she tugged him toward home base. It was rarely good to be cornered, but at least she’d have one less side—their rear—to worry about defending.
“What are you—” He quieted, sensing her preoccupation. Without another word, he bent and picked up a metal baseball bat. Sans the collar and dressed in black sweats, he looked like someone you didn’t want to fuck with. . . if you were mortal.
Eve’s brows rose, but she put her back to his and tried angling him to face the corner. He, being the chivalrous type, tried to maneuver her the same way.
The flash of white came again, but this time it stopped in front of her. An Infernal such as she’d never seen, with white hair and eyes. He was wearing an ice-blue and silver Halloween costume that included a doublet and bombastic hose.
Her connection with Reed allowed her to recognize the demon inside the getup.
“Azazel,” she greeted grimly.
“Hello, Evangeline.”
Riesgo positioned himself shoulder to shoulder with her. “Is this the guy that’s after you?”
“One of them.” Eve sent up a request for a flaming sword. She wasn’t too surprised when nothing happened. She widened her stance and raised her fists. The demon laughed, a sound made more maddening for its rich, deep tone.
This Infernal was clearly confident about his skills. “Stand easy, Evangeline.” The unknown voice rumbled through the air from no discernable source.
The ground shook and a fissure opened. Blood rushed upward from the depths like a geyser before settling into the shape of a man with massive, beautiful crimson wings.
Satan. Eve knew who it was without any help.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Riesgo breathed. He made the sign of the cross with his free hand.
“Mary can’t save you, priest;’ Azazel said, with a malicious smile. “God won’t save you either.”
Fear blossomed in Eve’s chest like a spreading stain. The Prince of Hell was impossibly beautiful, far more so than even Sabrael. His skin shimmered as if coated with gold dust. Shiny black hair fell halfway down his back, rippling and writhing with a life of its own. The silky tresses moved sinuously, covetously; caressing him as a lover would, framing a face that could not have been more perfect. His irises flickered like flames, while his mouth curved in a smile that was terrifying for its seductiveness. The urge to undress and spread her legs for him was strong enough to tug Eve forward one step. She jerked herself to a halt by clinging to Reed in her mind, like a snapping flag anchored to a pole.
“Ah’ Satan murmured, circling from a distance with a smooth alluring gait. Sex incarnate. “I see why they want you. Looking at you makes a man hard and ready to fuck.”
Eve flipped him the bird.
With a careless wave of his hand, he snapped the digit, bending it backward until her knuckle touched the back of her hand. She dropped to her knees, screaming.
Riesgo stepped forward, but she caught him with her left hand around his ankle. As a mortal, she would never have been able to stop him. As a Mark, she nearly toppled him.
“Don’t” she ordered in a richly nuanced rumble.
He stilled instantly, frozen.
Persuasion. A gift given to Marks that she likened to the Jedi mind trick. Why it would kick in—for the first time—now, when what she really needed was a weapon, was a gripe she would add to her long list. . . later. And while she was bitching, she’d mention the failure of her mark to kick in and give her some ass-whupping mojo.
Where was Reed? Alec? Anyone?
She released the priest and reached for her broken finger, groaning through gritted teeth as she wrestled it back into place.
Azazel tsked. “They teach less and less respect as the years pass, my liege.”
Satan came to her, looking down at her with gorgeous, emotionless eyes. His clawed fingertips lifted her chin and moved her head from side to side. His touch was cool, almost tender. She was riveted as much by that tenderness as by horror. Deep inside her, something trembled in paralyzing fear.
With proximity, the full effect of the Devil’s allure was undeniable. He wore a three-piece suit that reminded her of Reed, but the overlong hair and Dr. Martens were Alec’s. Even his features and build resembled her lovers, as did his scent—smoky, exotic, and deeply male. She wondered if he wore a guise to disorient her, or if she and God just had the same idea of what constituted a hot guy.
“Get away from her;’ Riesgo growled.
Satan shot him a bored but dangerous look.
Eve caught the Devil’s wrists, wincing at the throb of her injured hand. It would heal with time, but would hurt like hell in the interim. “It’s me you want. I’m the one who ran over your dog. Let the priest go.”
The Devil’s sleek head turned back to her. He looked amused. “But the priest is the means by which I will force your hand.”
She quivered inside. “No. You don’t need him. Deal with me.”
“You do not yet know what I want,” he crooned, cupping her face in his hands. His touch was so invasively cold it seeped into the very marrow of her bones, making her shiver violently. “Perhaps I want to defile you, lovely Evangeline. Perhaps I want to do things to you that will break your mind and spirit. Perhaps I want to watch while others do those same things to you. Listen to the melody of your screams until there is no fight left in you.”
