then instantly went for my gun, yanking it out as the box made contact with the asphalt—
And everything went sideways.
The reliquary bounced hard on the asphalt as an explosion ripped through the space with a percussive blast, though there was no sound, not even much light. I was knocked to the side, away from the manhole, but I had the easy end of it. The commandos standing around me all burst backward as well, like leaves caught in a strong wind, stumbling to the ground, smashing up against the alley’s wall, while I was yanked to my feet, and—
Found myself staring into the face of the second most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.
“Second?” the impossibly beautiful vision in front of me said with a twist of his sensual lips. “How disappointing.”
Outrage swept through me, flavored with a salty dash of fear that I stamped down with more outrage. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” I snapped. “Armaeus sent me after the actual Devil ? As in the Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, Enemy of Righteousness— you’re what I just stole from the Vatican?”
The Adonis before me gave me a lazy grin.
“Speak of the Devil,” he said, his voice as heart wrenchingly beautiful as his features. “And he shall appear.”
Chapter Ten
With that, the Devil shot out his right hand toward the closest SANCTUS guard. “Besides,” he continued, “they stole me first.”
The guard screamed as his gun turned to flames, the fire jumping from his weapon to one held by a soldier across the alley so quickly I could barely follow it. Then it leapt again.
“Aleksander Kreios,” the Devil said by way of introduction. He didn’t let go of me as he stooped to pick up the golden box at his feet, examining it with marked distaste as the men around us erupted into screams. “I think we should be leaving. Where is the plane?”
“Ciampino Airport,” I said, trying to process the carnage in front of me. Not very easy, given the smell of burning flesh on either side of us. “Thirty miles south of the city. Were you the one watching me in the catacombs, then?” I frowned more deeply. “And how did you get in that box?”
“It appears Armaeus did not expect us to meet. He always was a man of no manners, despite his protestations.” He shrugged. “But it’s time to go. As enjoyable as it would be to see these men suffer longer, there is work yet to be done.” He turned, guiding me over a man whose cries of torment only increased on seeing Aleksander Kreios standing over him. Kreios paused long enough to stop the guard’s screams—by kicking him savagely in the head. Then he turned back with a satisfied smile. “After you,” he said, gesturing me on.
I glanced back as we strode down the alley. The fires dissolved into dirty smoke as I watched, but half the men still seemed in abject pain, and the other half were held in some kind of thrall, none of them making a move.
“Um, are you doing that to them?”
“Not at all, Sara Wilde. They are doing it to themselves.”
Breaking out onto a main street, Kreios walked right into traffic, moving ahead of me to flag down a sleek Alfa Romeo. The driver stopped, pole axed with alarm, gaping at us as we approached his vehicle. Kreios put his hand on the hood appreciatively. “It is a fine car.”
The man—a prosperous-looking businessman, judging by his suit and tie—promptly exited the vehicle with his briefcase in hand. His expression had that same enthralled look about it, and he stood by the driver’s side while the few cars that were on the street pounded their horns and angled around us. Kreios nodded to him and spoke in musically fluent Italian, something about a Banco Credito . The man gestured magnanimously to his car. “ È tutto tuo. ”
Then he walked off. Whistling.
“You see?” Kreios said, dropping my hand to open the passenger door for me. “Men of refinement yet walk
And everything went sideways.
The reliquary bounced hard on the asphalt as an explosion ripped through the space with a percussive blast, though there was no sound, not even much light. I was knocked to the side, away from the manhole, but I had the easy end of it. The commandos standing around me all burst backward as well, like leaves caught in a strong wind, stumbling to the ground, smashing up against the alley’s wall, while I was yanked to my feet, and—
Found myself staring into the face of the second most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.
“Second?” the impossibly beautiful vision in front of me said with a twist of his sensual lips. “How disappointing.”
Outrage swept through me, flavored with a salty dash of fear that I stamped down with more outrage. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” I snapped. “Armaeus sent me after the actual Devil ? As in the Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, Enemy of Righteousness— you’re what I just stole from the Vatican?”
The Adonis before me gave me a lazy grin.
“Speak of the Devil,” he said, his voice as heart wrenchingly beautiful as his features. “And he shall appear.”
Chapter Ten
With that, the Devil shot out his right hand toward the closest SANCTUS guard. “Besides,” he continued, “they stole me first.”
The guard screamed as his gun turned to flames, the fire jumping from his weapon to one held by a soldier across the alley so quickly I could barely follow it. Then it leapt again.
“Aleksander Kreios,” the Devil said by way of introduction. He didn’t let go of me as he stooped to pick up the golden box at his feet, examining it with marked distaste as the men around us erupted into screams. “I think we should be leaving. Where is the plane?”
“Ciampino Airport,” I said, trying to process the carnage in front of me. Not very easy, given the smell of burning flesh on either side of us. “Thirty miles south of the city. Were you the one watching me in the catacombs, then?” I frowned more deeply. “And how did you get in that box?”
“It appears Armaeus did not expect us to meet. He always was a man of no manners, despite his protestations.” He shrugged. “But it’s time to go. As enjoyable as it would be to see these men suffer longer, there is work yet to be done.” He turned, guiding me over a man whose cries of torment only increased on seeing Aleksander Kreios standing over him. Kreios paused long enough to stop the guard’s screams—by kicking him savagely in the head. Then he turned back with a satisfied smile. “After you,” he said, gesturing me on.
I glanced back as we strode down the alley. The fires dissolved into dirty smoke as I watched, but half the men still seemed in abject pain, and the other half were held in some kind of thrall, none of them making a move.
“Um, are you doing that to them?”
“Not at all, Sara Wilde. They are doing it to themselves.”
Breaking out onto a main street, Kreios walked right into traffic, moving ahead of me to flag down a sleek Alfa Romeo. The driver stopped, pole axed with alarm, gaping at us as we approached his vehicle. Kreios put his hand on the hood appreciatively. “It is a fine car.”
The man—a prosperous-looking businessman, judging by his suit and tie—promptly exited the vehicle with his briefcase in hand. His expression had that same enthralled look about it, and he stood by the driver’s side while the few cars that were on the street pounded their horns and angled around us. Kreios nodded to him and spoke in musically fluent Italian, something about a Banco Credito . The man gestured magnanimously to his car. “ È tutto tuo. ”
Then he walked off. Whistling.
“You see?” Kreios said, dropping my hand to open the passenger door for me. “Men of refinement yet walk
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