Death of a Demon (The Dark Angel Wars 3)

I ignored the jab at my sense of style and focused on what she’d just promised. Was that supposed to be a veiled threat? Who would she want to talk to? She had my life. What else could she want?

“Ahh...now this is better.”

She snatched a crimson tank from behind my clothes. It was silky with a plunging neckline. Raquel had given it to me last year. It’d gone straight to the back of my closet, and there it had remained until now.

“Honestly, I’m not sure why you hide under all those yards of fabric,” Mona continued, pulling the tank over her head. “We’ve got a nice body. Gabe certainly enjoys it.”

I shuddered as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror. Luckily, the duties of battle had kept Gabe busy all last night. He hadn’t tried to kiss me again. I hated to think of anything more happening while I was trapped in here. I didn’t think I could ever forgive Gabe for being physical with Mona, even if it was my body and he didn’t know it wasn’t me in control. As irrational as that sounded, I couldn’t help it.

Can you at least put a bra on? I hissed. The soft curves of my body were clearly visible to anyone with eyes. I wanted to throw my arms around my chest and hide them from view.

“Nah, this is good.” She swept her hair over her shoulders and gave the image one last approving glance. “Perfect for our date.”

What date? Who are we meeting?

She wouldn’t respond to any of my probing questions, so I took a backseat and watched through our eyes as she left my room. When we got to the staircase, I was surprised to see her ascend to the next level. The dining hall was down two floors. The fourth floor was reserved for the library, various conference rooms, and classrooms. There wouldn’t be anyone up there right now. The Nephilim had declared a state of emergency, pausing all non-essential daily activities like school and training.

What are you doing? I asked.

She ignored me and finished ascending the stairs. Down the hall we went, past empty doorways and lifeless paintings on the wall. The plush red carpet below our feet hid any sound of her footsteps. The only light came through the windows, leaving most of the hall blanketed in shadows. A statue at the end came into view. It was a life-sized marble bust of a man with a heavy brow and disapproving eyes. His cheeks drooped and a scar marred his left temple.

“Here we are.”

Mona stopped short of the statue and glanced over her shoulder. No one in sight. Inching around the square base to the back, she crouched and ran her fingers over the gray marble. It was cold to the touch and smooth. The base had been slightly hollowed out, just enough to leave room for a wooden box which sat innocently in the crevice. I recoiled at the sight of it, recalling the last time I’d seen that cursed thing.

Psyche’s Urn had put me here. I wished it had been burned.

“Like taking candy from a baby,” Mona whispered, grabbing the box and shoving it into a black bag she’d brought along.

No one stopped her on the way out of the manor. No one gave a second thought as to why I might be dressed so strangely and headed away from my home. No—the Nephilim stayed busy and Mona walked across the border into the quiet forests of my childhood.

I wished I could say that their familiar presence felt calming on my nerves, but I couldn’t lie. Mona’s secret mission had me quaking inside my own head. I had been under the impression that all she wanted was to take over my body, but maybe I was wrong. She had control, but her mission wasn’t over. With head held high, she strode deeper into the forest and far out of range of Westward Manor.

Finally, we reached a small entangled copse of trees and she paused, jutting out her hip. Her eyes searched the shadows beneath the trees, but could spot nothing unusual. Mona took a deep breath of air and whistled low.

“I knew you’d come.” That familiar husky voice sent shivers down my back. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my fear or Mona’s feverish excitement. Her chest began to heave and the tank top clung to her frame. “I hope you liked my gift.”

Seth stepped out from behind the copse. He wore the same black wool suit with an infuriatingly cool pose. The face which I’d first regarded as handsome had grown into a fiercely attractive facade, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Full lips, a sensual smile, strong jawline, the perfect brow line, and shiny black hair combed back from his forehead. He was everything a woman, young or old, could desire. At the same time, there was a charge in the air. The kind of sensation that I had when staring down a bear or mountain lion in the woods. He reeked of danger.

“It was delightful.” Mona sighed and twirled, the box held aloft in her hands. “See? All me. She’s trapped inside, poor thing. Doesn’t want to share.”

“That really is too bad.” Seth’s eyes wrinkled when he smiled. “Sounds like someone needed a time out.”

I realized they were talking about me and growled. Mona swatted at the air as if a fly had been buzzing next to her ear.

He gently took Psyche’s Urn out of her hands and tucked it under his elbow. “Thank you, my dear.”

As Mona stared up at him, starry eyed, my mind whirled. What could he want with that thing? Hadn’t it served its purpose? I was trapped in here.

“And now,” he continued with a flourish of his hand, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to our guest.”

“She’s right here.” She tapped on her temple. “All the time. She can hear you.”

He laughed and patted her arm. “No, no, no. I need to talk to Ms. Redding face-to-face. You can do that for me.”

I leaned forward, hardly believing my ears. Was he asking her to give control back to me? She could do that?

Mona’s lower lip pushed out. “But...”