hands. “Three Marks lost today. Two Marks acquired. Possible sighting of a new breed of Infernal. Uriel called and would like you to call him back—”
Raguel scowled. “Three Marks? Who were the handlers?”
“Mariel lost a mentor/Mark team to the Infernal she didn’t recognize—”
“Is that the possible new breed sighting?”
“Yes.”
He loosened his tie. “I want her full report.”
“The recording is on your desk.”
“Who else?”
“Abel lost one.”
Raguel paused, disquieted. “Who did Abel lose?”
“Takeo, a former Yamaguchi-gumi yakuza member. He was very good. Forty-seven kills.”
Relief flooded the archangel, and reminded him that he was taking a dangerous gamble. The loss of Evangeline Hollis would create an enemy in Cain that would jeopardize centuries of work. But the possible rewards were worth the risk.
Raguel knew that Ms. Hollis needed to find self-confidence in her abilities in spite of Cain rather than because of him. Past observations of her had revealed that she was ambitious and determined. Cain’s mentoring of her had been a curve Raguel wasn’t expecting, but he believed it was still possible for her to achieve an identity separate from her mentor.
The seven archangels were tasked with the training of new Mark recruits. They rotated the duties for the sake of fairness. For seven weeks a year, each archangel was given free rein to use his or her powers in the training process. Raguel had deliberately delayed Ms. Hollis’s training so that it would fall into his rotation. He would give her a level of attention he’d never bestowed on any other Mark. A bond would form organically. He fully intended for her to align with him so completely that she related to him more than with her mentor and her handler.
Cain responded to stress with aggression; he always had. By keeping him edgy and off-guard, Raguel would promote tension between him and Ms. Hollis. Abel’s obvious infatuation with his brother’s lover would assist with that. She couldn’t have both of them, and being torn between the two would prevent a deep attachment from forming with either one.
“Is Abel’s report on my desk, too?” Raguel asked.
“He hasn’t filed one yet. Just the herald has come in.”
The archangel frowned. Abel was unfailingly prompt with all his reports, which were voice recordings made on the scene that were later transcribed onto celestial scrolls for future reference. While some handlers required time to absorb the loss of a Mark, Abel found }solace in the act of witnessing the Mark’s sacrifice for divine consideration. Some Marks were forgiven their trespasses, regardless of the number of indulgences earned.
Raguel moved to his office. He briefly skimmed the various items that had been left on his desk for perusal and approval. He flipped through several mock-ups of advertisements for his numerous ventures, pausing briefly on two options for invitations to the grand opening of Olivet Place. It was fortunate that the tengu had been vanquished prior to the ribbon cutting. Then he picked up the disk labeled Mariel.
Something niggled at him.
“Ms. Bowes!” he yelled.
“Yes?”
“Confirm Cain and Ms. Hollis’s whereabouts.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll see to it immediately.”
Eve never thought she would be happy to hang out in a Motel 6. Her personal preferences were much more upscale. But right now, she was looking forward to the tiny room off Highway 10 as if it was the penthouse suite in the Mondego.
She climbed out of the passenger side of the Focus and stretched. An aftereffect of the mark’s release of adrenaline was the lingering sense of physical restlessness. Emotionally, however, she just wanted five minutes to enjoy some chocolate.
Pulling the motel key from his pocket, Alec unlocked their ground-floor room and ushered her inside. The space was small, about the size of Eve’s guest bathroom. The two double beds barely fit inside, with the bed farthest from the door pushed up right against the bathroom wall and the nearest bed having scarcely enough room to fit in the window air-conditioning unit. The decor was motel classic—busy-printed coverlets that hid stains, nondescript wallpaper, and a three-paneled painting of the beach above the two headboards. A small fridge sat by the dresser and the sink waited beyond that, conveniently—though unattractively—built outside the shower and toilet area.
Alec set the keys and their purchases next to the television and pushed his shades onto his forehead. He leaned back against the dresser and crossed his arms.
Eve sank onto the edge of the bed nearest the door. “Can you pass me a Kit Kat?”
He reached for the bag. Digging inside, he laughed. “What the hell did you